Hi guys. Long time no see. How are you? You know, sometimes I still visit here because the fangirl side in me never dies. I do still watch anime and read fanfiction, and I miss all the things we had and shared here.
So, I'm back to writing, but I'm no longer writing fanfiction (to be honest, I'm working on something, but I won't promise anything for now. Maybe that'll be my super, super last fanfiction, and I'm a procrastinator).
I currently write various types of content: flash fiction, drabbles, poetry, and even essays, and I post them all on Substack. It's still fresh with fewer than 5 followers who are my fellow writers I meet across platforms.
From Meg to Garnett.
Hi, I'm Garnett. I talk about intimacy, desire, relationships, and vulnerability through fiction and essays.
Do I still write smut?
For now, I write in the suggestive sphere as I'm so down for restrained intimacy, vulnerability, and such. Maaaybe I'll write short erotica one day. How I write intimate moments has probably changed, though, and I'm always learning.
Why do I stop writing fanfiction?
Fanfiction has been my safe space for years, and now I want to expand and explore territories I haven't been to. Without fanfiction, I wouldn't pursue my hobby this far.
You can still find my old fanfiction in this masterlist.
I got married 2 weeks ago. And I'm looking back at the moment 4 years ago when I got divorced and was back to anime and wrote fanfics and made friends here.
My new status will never change my love for my fictional men ❤️
synopsis: upon hearing the news of you becoming single, snake takes it upon himself to comfort you
pairing: snake x fem!reader
wc: est. 2.1k
tags, warnings: smut, cunnilingus, unprotected p -> v, snake is obsessed with you, this fic is lowkey self-indulgent | @rottiens
Snake wasn’t one to meddle in his men’s personal lives, but the furrow between his brows deepened as he overheard his subordinates consoling their comrade with promises of a barrel of wine and a new girl to ease the sting of his parting from you. It was a mutual decision, the man claimed. Snake clicked his tongue against his teeth, unable to stomach any more of their foolish chatter.
His thoughts drifted instead to you — your hands deftly slicing vegetables as you prepared him dinner, the seagrass basket brimming with crops resting effortlessly against the curve of your hips. He wondered if your work on the farm ever left accidental bruises on your skin, and how sweet it would feel to kiss each one, tasting you as he soothed them away. No — he could never agree to leave you.
With a swift kick of his heel, he urged his horse to gallop faster, putting distance between himself and the fool who had once been your lover. “You lot keep patrolling this area. I’m heading that way,” he barked to his men before veering off on his own. The closer he got to your house, the more impatient he became, each passing second only deepening his need to see you.
By the time he stood before your door, night had fallen. The moon hung high on the iron-hued sky, and the flicker of firelight glowed softly through the cracks in the wooden frame. The aroma of freshly made supper wafted out, but for once, his hunger had nothing to do with food. All he wanted was to see your face.
When the door creaked open, his heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked lashes, your eyes rimmed with red sorrow, your chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. His fists clenched at the thought of your former lover finding solace in another woman’s arms while you sat here, weeping above the meal you had lovingly prepared for him.
“What brings you here, Snake?” you asked, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.
“Heard the news. Thought you might need some company,” he replied, his tone gruff, an attempt to mask the ache your sad smile stirred in his chest.
“Come in,” you said softly.
As he stepped inside, his broad frame seemed to fill the room, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. He set his sword down as you poured him a bowl of soup, your hands trembling slightly.
“How come you came here and didn’t tag along with the others?” you asked. You knew very well how the guards console their heartbroken comrades, and given Snake’s reputation as a gallivant, it surprised you to see him at your table.
“I’m more interested in how you’re doing,” he said, his emerald gaze steady on you. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. It’s about time I returned the favor.”
“Well, I was fine during the day. Work had my mind occupied a little, but I'm afraid the silence and the lonely night will break my heart in two at times. But it's just a part of life. You're a smart man, you know that,” you sat ahead of him, your tears pouring as you watched the steam curl above his bowl.
“Look at you,” he pushed the food to the side to be able to reach across the table and place his calloused hands on yours, his thumbs caressing the back of your gentle hands. “You're going through so much pain and you still find a way to flatter me. You deserve better than him. No sane man would leave a woman like you,”
“I hardly believe he's been viewing me as a woman in a long while, but … I shouldn't tell you this, you're his boss.”
Snake's hold tightened on your skin, his emerald stare studying your cheeks that you turned away in shame until he realized just what you meant by your words. “How long since…?”
“It's been months.” you took your hands out of his hold to wipe away your tears began to swell faster and played drums against the wooden table. You rested your face against your palms as you began to sob uncontrollably, your body trembling ahead of him.
This sight of you painfully clawed at his heart and set his soul into a flickering ember of rage. To think one of his men dared to make you think less of yourself by not worshiping your body every night angered him.
He was searching for you in every girl he chased after on Ketil's farm ever since he first laid eyes on you; your hair shining in the afternoon sunlight, the curve of your brows, the kind light in your eyes and the gentle simper sitting on your lips whenever you greeted him. No matter how many women moaned under him, he always wished it was your laughter vibrating against his lips. And to think he respected his subordinate's relationship with you to find out he took you for granted, “What an idiot,” Snake mumbled as he stood up and made his way over to you. “Come here.”
His shadow loomed over you before he sat down next to you, his palm finding the curve of your nape to lead your face to his shoulder as his other hand caressed across the length of your back. He smelled of horse sweat and leather, the frostbitten mud stench of wind still lingering on his shirt as your tears wetted the material. His warmth wrapped around you as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your temple, and his fingers massaged the back of your head and his other hand found the small of your back to pull you closer against him. “You deserve better than him. Someone who worships every inch of your perfect being, who thanks the Gods they get to wake up right beside you and the first thing they see is your beautiful face. Someone who yearns to have your pretty lips moan their name like a mantra every night.”
“Snake…” you whispered breathlessly as his words became hot against your sensitive neck, forcing you to hold your thighs together tightly while the liquid luster began to dwell in between them. You let go of his back, placing your arms between you and him to be able to pull away and look at his face. His dark locks framed his desire filled face, his eyes dark with wanton that threw your heart into a burning ache and need to taste his lips. But for a second, you hesitated. “So you're just a man, after all,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “Thought I'd entertain you tonight? After having my heart broken? I'm nothing but an easy prey to you.”
“There's nothing ‘just’ about the way I've been feeling about you. Had your love for another man not blinded you, you would've realized it a long time ago,” he smoothed his knuckles against the soft of your tear-streaked cheeks before his palms cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your lament. Your lips trembled, parting instinctively as he claimed them for his own that night; he tasted of dried meat and cheap, red wine as his tongue deepened the kiss with a fervor that made your breath hitch. “Your kiss is even sweeter than I've ever imagined,” he whispers, his fingers tangled in your hair at the back of your head to gingerly tug at it and open your neck for his trail of kisses.
Your heart was pounding against your ribcage with guilt and excitement; to make love with your past lover's boss in the same bed you adored him in for years on the same night you two parted ways. Yet, Snake's words and touches made such eager moans bubble in your chest. Heat rises to your cheeks as you notice the bulge tenting on his lap, a wet spot expanding on his pants while the tip of his tongue rushed across your collarbone.
“Don't think of him,” he whispered, sensing your hesitation from the way your moans got stuck at your throat. “Think of me. Only me. I'll show you how beautiful you are. Will you allow me? Yes?”
It was strange to see him like this - always so composed and calculated, now so eager, almost pleading, just for a taste of you. You nodded, and in an instant, his strong arms lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you, laying you gently across the bed beside the flickering glow of the fireplace.
A soft smile tugged at your lips as he began to expertly remove your clothes, his movements precise yet reverent. His gaze swept over you, drinking in every inch of your revealed skin, his dark eyes heavy with desire that made your heart race as his face was between your thighs.
“I can't believe I finally get to taste you, gorgeous, and you're so wet for me already,” he took his pointing and middle fingers to spread your folds, rushing his fingerpads across while the thumb of his other hand found your clit. “Soaking fucking wet, dripping.”
“Oh, gods,” your cheeks flushed into crimson at his words and the way he never broke eye contact with you, not even when his upper lip teased your clit and his tongue sheathed into your gummy walls as two of fingers massaged them inside. It made your back arch and your face turn away as a sharp peak of pleasure was building at the pit of your stomach.
“Don't look away from me, sweetest,” he got on his knees to have his palm on your nape, gently forcing you to look into his eyes as his fingers took you to your first orgasm and tears of pleasure swollen in your eyes. Your wetness overflowed, traveling down on your body and pooling under you by the time he was done and he was licking his fingers while his thighs spread your legs open. The mix of your liquid desire and his saliva coated the tip of his dick while he rushed it across your folds. “I'll fuck that bastard right out of your pretty your head, okay? You want it?”
“Yes, Roald, please,” the sound of his real name falling from your lips, the eager arch of your pack to have his cock inside you immediately made him stop with any teasing and he slowly pushed himself in. His jaw hung low as he felt himself stretching you out, the vehement pulsing in your walls massaging his dick. His size snuffed the air out of you, making your brows furrow as the two of you watched him push the last inch in until his dark pubic hair was right against your clit.
“You feel like you were made just for me, sweetest,” Snake placed his elbow right next to you, his naked chest resting against your breasts as he brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed you. “I love that you remember my name even though I told you about it once in a fleeting moment. Now, I want you to scream it to your heart's content. Don't hold back.”
As he began to move, his pace fast and measured, your nails raked across his back. Each thrust drew out a new whimper or moan against his groans, making you tightly wrap your legs around him as his hands rested on your shoulder blades to keep you in space. You felt your body reaching the heavens over and over again underneath him, your throat was dry from screaming the syllables of his name and your lips were raw from his kisses and love bites.
“Cum with me, gorgeous.” he groaned against your ear as his rhythm became uneven, but harder and faster. You felt the tip of his dick harden and throb before his seeds filled you up. His dark locks fell onto your face as he left gentle pecks all over your forehead, nose, eyelids and jawline while he kept cumming inside you. You whimpered each time his dick twitched with its last drop, and you moaned as he slowly pulled himself out.
“I made quite the mess here, darling,” Snake chuckled to himself as he found his subordinate's shirt to wipe you clean before he found a blanket to cover you with. Your gaze followed him as he put his clothes back on, your heart already aching at the thought that perhaps every word he told you that night was a lie.
As if he could read your thoughts, he sat right beside you and pressed his lips against your forehead. “I'm still on duty and I have to check on Gramps. I'll come back as soon as I can. I want you to rest now, sweetest.”
The mark that was burned into your skin, the mark that was a forever reminder of who you belonged to. The mark that still brought you pain even years after you dug your way out of the shining floors built upon dirt and rubber, blood and tears. The mark that stung in colder weather and ached when rain pelted against your skin.
You don’t realize he’s behind you when your back is exposed. A simple accident. Your relationship had been established only recently–the nerves from you and the teasing from him stayed but the awkward side steps were erased. A new era, one that you were possibly going to gain eternal happiness from. He hadn’t ever seen you this vulnerable–something you made sure would never happen. Not yet, anyway. You didn’t want to feel the emotions you were anticipating yourself to feel: anger, embarrassment. Shame. Shame you allowed yourself to be captured in the first place.
“Is that…?” his voice startles you and you cover your mark swiftly. Dread fills your entire being. Your heart begins to pump energy through you as if you are preparing to run far, far away. To start again once more in a foreign area. Your mind flashes back to when you did escape, when your fingers bled so bad they were stumbling with the slave keys, too slippery and wet and red.
“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, face burning. You lick your lips as you immediately avoid his gaze. You can’t. It stabs through your back with an intensity you have felt only once before. Or, perhaps, he’s becoming emotional, and his haki is leaking.
“It’s not nothing,” his voice deepens. It’s a tone he only uses when he must. When a situation becomes dire and he has to put on the face of a captain. He takes a deep breath. It’s shaky and you start feeling guilt gnaw at your belly. This mark is a lot to take in, especially if people recognize it. It holds a sign practically above your head that you belong to someone. You’re an object. You’re property. You practically have no rights and the fact you have it should mean you need to be shoved back on to that shelf.
What Shanks does next surprises you.
His arm pulls you into him so gently. You blink, not realizing he had moved from his spot at the door frame.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice still shaky. He doesn't offer a his usual banter. His tongue isn't sharp and teasing, it's not light-hearted and funny. It's full of sorrow. You can taste his sadness, no his anger for you and it makes you wonder if he's seen this before, witnessed its cruelty.
You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from crying, but the tears slip out anyway. You cover your eyes with one of your hands as you wrap the other around him. You taste iron and salt.
You two have a lot to talk about.
~
@airanke
@cuckoo-on-a-string (We were talking about Shanks and uhhhh yeah this happened...)
I know I'm not as active as I used to be here but visiting this platform calms me down. Maybe because this was the place where I found my way to cope with reality back then.
i can't believe i really wrote this.
A/N: based on this request and this ask. this is so unserious. and serious at the same time. it's killing me. this one is just based on my personal thoughts, no maths involved, so size for some characters isn't the same than on my random math nerdy analysis. and YES, ikr some size aren't even humanly possible. oda decided to do unrealistic ass heights, so i’m matching his freak.☆
CW: gn!reader (just a bit of afab!reader only for marco), just pure smut lol
WC: 6,1k. i wrote a fucking widickpedia.
one piece masterlists. ☆ my ko-fi
Eustass Kid
7.8 inches - massive ego, massive dick, he needs some backup to be so arrogant.
A pure shower. Thick and veiny as hell. Even his cock looks angry, especially when it twitches. It sounds threatening and daring you to touch. Kid is always stretching you out so much you can barely recall your own name for a few minutes, your walls so tight, clenching around him, feeling every single vein and ridge as he sinks deep inside you, fat tip trying to fuck your soul out of your body. “I know it's big, tell me somethin' I don't already know.”
Backshots, backshots, backshots.
This man is breathing for backshots. He's an ass man. Slamming into you roughly from behind, hand gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The second he stops to hold you, you know what’s going to happen. Rough spank on your ass, leaving red handprints on your skin. And he does it again, just for the dark satisfaction of watching the little jiggles of your flesh, how hard you’re whining into the pillow or against the wall. “Keep cryin’, it turns me on.” He’s fucking you so hard, tears always spill from your eyes, lewd noises of skin slapping against skin filling the room, Kid’s raspy, husky breath driving you insane with desire. Don’t you dare turn your head to look at him with a lovey dovey expression, all he will do is pin your face against the mattress, keeping you helpless and at his mercy until you’re fucked dumbed, drooling on the sheets.
Donquixote Doflamingo
11 inches - dick as massive as his charisma
“I’m not even halfway,” is his favorite thing to say as he watches you sweat and squirm pathetically with every inch pushed deep inside you. He’s taking his time, but don’t mistake it for kindness; he’s just drinking in the sight of your face totally wrecked when he’s only halfway, how obscene your hole is stretched around his girth, how you look at him with big eyes silently hopping he’s balls deep inside. But his maniac laugh says everything as he slams the rest of his length deep inside you, so deep it feels like he’s rearranging your guts. The worst thing when you watch him undress for the first time is to think it's already big, only to find out this bastard is a grower. That wicked grin on his face when he gets hard and watches the colors leave your face? Terrifying. He’s such a sadist he loves to make you count the inch when he buries himself into you and if you lose, you’re doomed.
Mean missionary, custom cowgirl, master of shibari.
Doflamingo is kinky as hell, even a romantic position turns into something obscene with him. You’re just his puppet when he forces your legs on his broad shoulders, spreading your thighs so wide open your muscles are sore and begging for mercy, but his hands will keep you as open as his cock splitting you in half. “That's it, keep singing for me, little bird.” His eyes never leave your face; he needs to see your face and how you’re wincing. Deep thrusts that make your whole body shake until your legs start to twitch uncontrollably. And don’t you think you’re in control when you’re straddling him, all you can do is take it as he looks regal, resting his head behind his arms, lazy fidgeting his fingers to drive you up and down his cock with his devil fruit. “Look at this little bird bouncing on my cock and whining like a crybaby.” Don’t even think about holding onto his abs for support, he will just tie you down. When he’s in the mood, he will turn your body into art, suspending you… before slamming inside you so hard you need to grip the ropes for support.
Dracule Mihawk
8.2 inches - big dick energy, dick as straight as his posture.
He got the prettiest cock you will ever see; in fact, before him, you never thought a dick could ever look pretty. He never bothered taking measures on his cock; it just sounded ridiculous in his mind. That man was just born confident; he never brags, no need to brag when you know what you're doing. And Mihawk always knows what he’s doing. When he’s sliding inside you, it feels like he’s putting you to death, inch after inch, stretching you out around his girth, circumcised tip bullying your inside, but don’t worry, to you, Mihawk only gives little death.
Missionary, mating press, ankle over shoulder.
Mihawk doesn't fuck. He hunts. With deadly precision. Each thrust is languid, meaningful, designed to spill out helpless moans from your mouth until you’re totally drugged out, reduced to a quivering, shivering mess under his lethal control. He wants you on your back, blending the world of intimacy and control in a way that makes your knees weak. Eyes always locked to yours as he thrusts inside you, in control, targeting all your weaknesses, making you feel each inch, each vein of his length, cold necklace covering your skin with goosebumps. He will always pin your wrists above your head, combining eye contact with control until he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, sliding even deeper inside you, still keeping you pinned down and at his mercy. “Eyes on me, don’t move,” He will say almost cruelly when you try to shut your eyes or struggle to keep it with his firm pace - for him, rough sex is not about fucking you fast and rough like a jackhammer, but rather deep enough to leave you empty and needy for days once he’s done with you. When he wants you even more helpless, he will smash your legs against your chest, folding you in half, your wrists either tied or pinned with one hand. Languid kisses that always leave you breathless, piercing gaze that makes you feel like he's fucking you even when he's perfectly still inside you.
Portgas D.Ace
6.4 inches - with a super cute sensitive pink tip
Slightly curved upward, perfect girth, tip always glistening with pre-cum, thick vein running down one side, smooth skin. It doesn’t matter if you’re giving him a head, jerking him off or taking him deep inside you, he will always give you the prettiest moans you have never heard - Ace moans are so beautiful, in the top 3 of One Piece men moans, and he’s not the third. “ You’re so perfect for me.” He always praises you, the cute freckles on his cheeks all flushed when you’re clenching around him, milking his cock until he lets out broken moans.
Just ride this man.
He just loves watching you bouncing on his length - his eyes can drink in every single inch of your skin, keeping eye contact; it soothes him to see how much you love him and how good his cock makes you feel as you fuck yourself on his length, lips open on silent screams while he holds your hips, hair fanning on his forehead and on the pillows, face flushed from neck to ears, pearls of his necklace clicking together whenever he lifts up to grab your neck and kisses you so deeply, pouring all the feelings he doesn’t know how to express into his kiss - before moaning in your mouth, filling you up with hot ropes of thick seed.
Rob Lucci
8 inches - with a curve as lethal as his attacks
“Stay still.” Voice so soft and smooth like velvet while he’s literally impaling you on his length, his claws keeping you pinned and helpless, reminding you that each squirm will be punished with a scratch, or a bite on your neck. The first time you undressed him, eyes widening in shock, he didn’t even bother blinking, just stared at you with a detached, predator gaze, voice flat. “Run away now if you're scared.” You didn’t run away, but even now, every single time, you’re crawling on the bed and Lucci just watches your struggles with a cold face before impaling you back firmly onto his length.
Hunting you doggy style.
He’s a predator. He loves playing with you. His favorite game is to have you on your hands and knees, back arched in the most cruel, sadistic angle, his hands digging into your flesh, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he slides inside you, slowly, not by kindness but for predatory purposes. And then his favorite game begging, fucking you so deep your soul is leaving your body with each thrust, his tip punching against your sweet spot as if he was angry at it, until you start to crawl and squirm. He loves watching you struggle for a few seconds before gripping your hips tightly, slamming you right back on his length. He’s hunting until your hands give up, resting weakly on your forearms and when your arms are sore, you’re just reduced to a helpless mess, ass up, chest down. “Pathetic.” He snarls, pushing you flat against the mattress, ending you in prone bone, scratching you, biting you, leaving hickeys everywhere he can, keeping you pinned down, at his mercy, his long hair falling free on your broken frame.
Sabo
6.8 inches - twitching like hell, always happy to see you
Mushroom tip round and smooth but so fucking large, eager to choke you, just as Sabo always does with his fingers wrapped like a necklace around your throat. A grower that grows fast whenever you’re around, veins pulsing with need, cockhead always glistening with precum and throbbing even more when Sabo buries himself inside you. “Quit squeezing down so hard, sweetheart,” he whispers, while casually keeping you in a chokehold.
Mating press.
He’s folding you in half with an angelic smile, slamming so deep your eyes roll back with each thrust, your poor legs twitching and trembling. He just loves your drugged-out expression in this position, how you’re milking his cock, sucking him deeper. He can watch your face, his length sliding inside you, how your hole is clenching him so tight, but more importantly, he can wrap his fingers around your neck and admire your eyes turning blank and cheeks totally red as he chokes you to your heart’s content. You’re squeezing him so nicely when he chokes you, his eyes are shining with a twisted mix of lust, love and admiration, talking to you with a lovely voice that doesn’t match the obscenity he’s doing and saying to you.
Trafalgar Law
7.6 inches - flat ass, big dick, the true embodiment of skinny emo myth, trust me
He’s so twisted, he removed his foreskin just for the sake of science, but he will pretend he did it for real medical purposes. The girth is pretty average but that length can kill - the fact this dude is casually walking with a nodachi almost as big as him is a warning. Sadly, his tip isn’t black and dark as the emo he is, it’s a cute, deep shade of pink, little veins along that perfectly straight length because his cock is as rigid as his mind. “Stop staring,” he mutters, cheeks flushed as your mouth goes totally dry at the sight of length. His cock is unexpressive just like him, never really throbbing or twitching, but when it’s inside you, don’t worry, each vein is teasing you, that fat tip as well. A pure grower, I mean look at those tight skinny emo jeans he's always wearing, he is a grower.
As long as you’re on your stomach.
Intimacy is such a struggle, he just likes to keep you on your stomach and if you can please, keep your head buried in the pillow or the mattress. If you can’t, don’t worry, he’ll pin you down regardless. He loves to be in control, one hand on your lower back as leverage as you literally collapse flat on your stomach, his hips snapping forward with controlled thrusts - but sometimes he’s so rough it feels like he’s trying to fuck the insomnia out of his body. “What? I just want to see your face.” Whenever you furrow your eyebrows when he flips you on your back, because you know it only means one thing with such a teaser - he’s going to make fun of you as he edges you with that smug expression and annoying smirk. But honestly, what Law loves the most is just to make you cum with his fingers. “Try to hold back for more than 5 minutes if you want to have a taste of my mouth.” But the A & T are curled up so nicely inside you. On purpose. It’s so funny to see the pleasure blended with desperation in your gaze as you cum within 5 minutes. When he’s even more lazy, he will give you only the H.
Vinsmoke Sanji
6.6 inches - cute tip always glistening with precum
Smooth, velvety skin, not really veiny, average girth, twitching and throbbing with need whenever he looks at you for more than 10 seconds. It stands proudly, slightly curved upward just to please you better when he’s inside you, hitting your sweet spot so nicely it should be illegal. “You’re taking me so well,” he praises with his sweet voice, trying so hard to not cum in a blink whenever your tight warm clench around him. Shivers running down your spine whenever he buries his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his moans - pretty, pretty moans, in the top 3 prettiest moaners of One Piece with Ace.
Between your legs.
What do you mean living between your legs and driving you crazy with his mouth isn’t really a position? He doesn't mind, that’s what he loves the most. Licking you, sucking you, swallowing each single one of your orgasm until his jaws are so sore he has no choice but to give up. “You taste so good, I can’t help it…” While diving back between your legs, overstimulating you without even trying to, he just has an oral fixation. Will get all cute and pouty and ask like a good boy to have his perfect ass pounded. His ass is so juicy it's illegal, one of the prettiest ass of One Piece, maybe his ass is the One Piece. But if you really want him to take you, then missionary it is. He wants to offer you divine french kisses while rolling his hips in languid thrusts, even his hickeys are delicate and soft. His guilty pleasure? Watching you, nothing more, nothing else. Every part of your body is so mesmerizing he doesn’t know where to look. Sometimes, he likes spooning, especially for morning sex, and because his hands can wander on your skin.
Roronoa Zoro
6.4 inches - fat dick, you kinda want to cry
Probably did a dick contest with Sanji and was pissed off to see the 0,2 inches difference but then got that smug face because his girth is so scary it could leave you with a gaping hole if he was a sadist. Veins are pulsing with need, it almost looks like it’s mad at you, but if you say a comment about his dick, he’s going to blush so hard, such a lovely tomato with his green hair. Is either focused as if he was training, or lazy when he’s sliding inside you, stretching you out so wide open it’s almost obscene. “Cling onto my shoulders if ya want, I got ya.”
“That one where you’re on top”, “that one with your ass lifted up,” that one....”
Yes. That's how he’s talking. This man is living in his own world; he doesn’t even know sex position name. Honestly, sometimes he’s manhandling you so roughly he’s creating new positions without even trying to. “Come on, work that ass, don’t be lazy.” He grunts whenever you’re straddling him, reverse style; of course, he’s an ass man. Watching your cute ass bouncing on his cock, your hole clenching around his girth and his length disappearing inside you is probably one of his favorite views, so that’s why when he’s not lazy, he’s just fucking you doggy style, big muscles flexing each time he’s holding you in place, abs contracting so pretty, too bad you can’t see it. When he’s in the mood to face you, his usual go-to is to fold you in half in mating press, caging you in with his muscular frame, watching how wrecked you are as his hips snap against yours, sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room - the soft, delicate, metallic chimes of his earrings clasping together is a lovely contrast when your poor knees are almost brushing your ears. “Gotta focus on your stamina and stretching.”
Buggy
5.9 inches - brightening red tip just as his nose
Average size and girth, a red tip looking almost angry and always leaking with precum because even his dick is way too expressive. He’s such a whiny mess, his dick throbbing and pulsing, but your hands aren’t even touching him yet. His hips are jerky when he’s inside you, crying out your name so loudly you always end up stuffing his mouth with your underwear to make him shut up, but he keeps whining through the fabric, with big crybaby tears when he cum. Muffled “Mmpf” , but he’s probably whining about how good you feel.
Cringe king of weird positions
He’s a sub even if he will always pretend the opposite, so basically, he’s going to follow your lead - when he’s not asking to get his cute ass pounded... with his own dick as a strap. But if you let him indulge in his wildest desires, Buggy got quite the creativity. He’s a clown and has a nice devil fruit for show time and will use both shamelessly to fuck you in impossible angles and position, his hands bullying you, sometimes even his head isn’t attached to his neck anymore but just going down on you shamelessly while you impale yourself on his length. “What’s wrong, you’re not comfortable?” He’s asking without even teasing you, deadly serious, confused that NO, you’re not comfortable when your legs are angled in such weird positions it almost looks like you’re a ragdoll with broken bones.
Smoker
7 inches - he’s ready to tame you with his dick
“I don’t bite, you know?” Smoker is not stupid, he knows he doesn’t have to complain about his size, but he never gets what his partners are looking at him with such big eyes. Maybe he’s a bit taciturn, but he’s also kind. He’s not going to shove his cock down your throat without a warning. It stands proud and thick with big veins and heavy balls. When you’re kneeling in front of him, drooling down his length while he’s taking drag after drag of his cigars, he always looks at you with a gaze full of lust and tenderness - he will always tangle his hands in your hair. If you ask him to guide your head, he’s more than happy to indulge but will probably accidentally choke you on his cock, pushing his tip down your throat until you’re coughing. He was too lost in his pleasure.
Against the wall.
Poor man is always busy with work and missions. He’s a workaholic, that’s why he needs two cigars; one isn’t enough to get enough nicotine stuck in his lungs. When he comes back to you, he’s too impatient to reach the bedroom, he doesn’t even bother taking off his uniform, his big hands are just pinning you down against the wall, watching how your hole is trying to swallow all of him. “Fuck, you’re always gripping me so tight when I come home. Missed me, yeah?” Hot palms squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them wide open until he gets tired of the view and flips you around, caging you with his massive frame, carrying you effortlessly and fucking you, your legs wrapped around his waist, back firmly pressed against the wall. He doesn’t moan, but damn, his raspy breaths are so pretty when he cum deep down inside you… as your body goes limp, he finally remembers about the bedroom and proceeds to fuck you again on the mattress, savoring the moment, taking his time.
King
20,8 inches - I don’t make the rules, he’s so tall.
Big bulbous brown head, it’s not just long and girthy, it’s also heavy, large balls hanging between his thighs, it could split you open, make you cry until you pass out. And yeah yeah, Alber got a prince albert and it stays on. Even behind his mask, he’s looking down at you with such disdain your gaze is locked on the floor. “You’re embarrassing.” He’s merciless, making sure you’re fully stuffed as he focuses solely on rearranging your guts, his hands on your stomach just to feel the bulge of his cock stretching you out beyond reliefs. “I knew human bodies were weak but yours is so ridiculously weak, it’s pathetic.” He’s a sadist; he loves the big tears running down your cheeks, torturing you, fucking you orgasm after orgasm, leaving you with a gaping hole, trembling legs, and a shaky body overstimulated and exhausted.
Prone bone.
One strong hand pinning your head on the pillow, massive length dragging over your ass cheeks, forcing you to arch your back, making you gasp and squirm already and it’s not even in. “You know I won’t be gentle, behave and take it.” His tone is dripping with dominance, strict, stern, but when he’s slamming inside you with angry thrusts, it almost sounds like he’s so mad at you and that damn weak body. But at least you’re entertaining, muffling moans, drooling on the sheets as he pounds into you from behind with rough, mean snap of his hips fucking your soul out of your body. “Choking on your moans, choking on my cock, choking on my name, are you trying to tell me you want my hands around your neck?” You don’t even have the time to answer, his fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing, keeping you still and at the very edge of passing out, heavy balls slapping against your ass. You're nearly a toy for him. But if you manage to handle him without whining and trying to crawl away, he will throw his mask on the bed, metal clinging loudly. “Don’t you dare look at me.” Before leaning down, beautiful, white long hair brushing your skin, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck or shoulders, his lips trailing kisses and hickeys everywhere, raspy, low, lovely moans against your ear. “Just like that, keep milking my cock and squeezing so tight like you won’t let me go.” That’s the closest loving, kind thing he will ever do or say when fucking you. The worst? You’re crying when he does so, his hair so soft, like silk against your skin, and his lips so soft. You wonder how his mouth can feel so good yet only speak so coldly and dirty. When he wraps an arm around your chest, you feel like you’re going to ascend, the sensation of his skin against your skin… is divine.
Sir Crocodile
10 inches - 0 curve, it looks strict and mean
Big head, prominent vein running along the underside, if you ever wonder if a dick could look down at you, now you know it’s possible. His cock is heavy as hell. Whenever you’re giving him a head, he will run his hook on the smooth skin of your neck and slap you if you dare to drool on him. But how aren’t you supposed to not drool when he’s stretching your mouth so wide open it leaves you with cramps. “Have some manners, you’re disgusting.” He loves to keep you on your knees while he works, looking down at you, blowing thick clouds of smoke while you try so hard to satisfy him.
Busy man, he’s bending you over his desk.
Whenever he needs some stress relief, he will either show you the desk with one thick finger, or just bend you over if you’re too slow for his liking, time is money. The rings stay on, digging in your flesh as he holds you in place, slamming inside you with a strict, firm pace. He won’t jackhammer, but each snap of his hips is so brutal it makes the desk shake regardless. And he will put the blame on you if some important papers are falling, so you better hold onto them tightly. For each paper falling, you get a mean spank. “Arch you back properly for me,” he commands, not even to appreciate the view of his cock ramming into you, but just to use the small of your back as an ashtray. He won’t manhandle you with his hand, but with his hook, wrapping it around your throat, your waist, running it along your skin is enough to make you obey.
Marco
6,4 inches - luckily the tip doesn’t look like a pineapple
The national birb doctor got the perfect curve to hit your sweet spot with each smooth thrust, making you feel the veins pulsing his need when he’s deep inside you. Girth is slightly above the average but not enough to split you in half. Just so you know, Marco knows what he’s doing, not only because he’s a doctor, but he has a fair amount of experience so don’t worry, you’re always in good hands with him. “Your hands are so pretty when they are wrapped around my cock.” He means it. Watching your hands when you’re jerking him off is always driving him crazy. Just for the sake of watching your pretty hands, he’s always letting you roll the condom onto his length.
AFAB reader: He has a boobs fixation, give this man a boobs job.
I just want to see your face.
Missionary and all its variants, mating press, carrying you against the wall, you on top, lotus… he doesn’t mind as long as he can watch your beautiful face. A big kisser, he’s so sad if he can’t kiss you and admires that expression of pure bliss when he’s bullying your sweet spot, sending shivers down your spine and making your body jolt. It's so steamy when he’s caging you under his frame, holding you tight and close, unfolding his wings to keep you in a warm, soothing embrace. “You’re always so perfect for me. You’re going to give me another orgasm, right?” If you have a mirror though, he’s not against doggy style - your reflection showing that lovely face of yours and the sight of your back arched while he’s gripping your hips, sliding inside you… is quite mesmerizing.
Killer
7 inches - veiny as hell
Oh, you thought Kid’s dick was girthy? Then you never saw Killer naked. Thick. Veiny. Circumcised. Tip is a deep shade of purple; it almost looks like he's secretly trying to match his tip color with his lipstick. When you run your fingers along his length, there’s a vein running along the right side that always drives him crazy. Unlike his captain, he’s a grower, not a shower. But damn, he’s packing. “If you keep gripping my hair like that, I’m going to lose control.” It doesn’t matter if he’s fucking you or going down on you, whenever you’re pulling on his beautiful blonde mane, it’s a total turn-on.
This man is picky, it’s so hard to see his face.
He can be so sweet, soft, and romantic or a total savage, but regardless, he’s a big fan of missionary. He loves the intimacy, the proximity, feeling your body beneath him, his hands can roam on every single inch of your skin… Sometimes he’s grabbing your legs, resting them on his broad shoulders to slam deeper inside you, reducing you to a quivering mess. All you can do is hold onto his hair as if it were your lifeline. Most of the time, if he’s fucking you in missionary, it means you’re wearing either a blindfold, or that he’s keeping his mask. When he’s not wearing his mask, then it means he’s fucking you from behind. He’s trusting you, so please, respect his will and do not try to turn your head, or you will lose his trust. Just enjoy the sensation of the sweat dripping from his forehead and big muscles flexing. “Fuck, you feel unreal.” This man is not afraid of moaning. Remember about Sanji and Ace? Killer got the prettiest moans with them. Low, husky moans. If you manage to win his trust, you might be able to drown into his ocean eyes and admire that beautiful face he’s hiding while he covers your neck with hickeys, smearing his lipstick everywhere he can.
Charlotte Katakuri
15,3 inches - sweet commander but not so sweet dick
Skin is surprisingly smooth with a few veins pulsing with need. Big boy with a big, heavy cock, but he’s almost shy when you wrap your hands around his length, his pale cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, tip glistening with precum, balls aching with need. Katakuri is just a bit self-conscious. “… your mouth feels so good.” He’s almost shy when he’s praising you, confused between his tendency to always hide half of himself behind a scarf and the aching desire of your sweet, hot mouth drooling all over his length.
69 - He loves to use his mouth.
At first, he’s nervous, scared to injure you with his fangs, but whenever he’s using his mouth, he’s hungry as hell yet surprisingly cautious. He’s savoring your taste as if he was eating something delicious and sweet. His big hands are spreading your ass cheeks, squeezing your flesh, spanking you, just for the sake of listening to your cute moans as you try your best to stretch your mouth around his girth. “Just cum against my mouth one last time and I swear I’ll stop…” He’s begging, trying to pull another orgasm out of you, eager to swallow everything. You can be sure that every single time he’s fucking you, it always ends up with a messy creampie, his seed flowing down your thighs… and his tongue sucking you clean, swallowing his own seed, pushing it back inside you or tasting your taste mixed with his own.
Unlike Usopp, Shanks won’t mess around and round up to reach 8 inches, he’s going to say the really specific size without any care for privacy. This hobo with ugly ass shoes is so carefree it’s probably one of the first things he said when you two started to date. Shanks knows he’s packing, he’s shameless, but he won’t brag. He just knows his way around. “C’mere, gonna fill you up juuust niiiice.” Probably one of the most experienced dudes on this list, but he’s so unserious, with stupid dad jokes, you’re almost surprised when he kisses you so good your brain is melting. This man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to keep things light. For him, sex is supposed to be fun, not deadly serious, silent and boring.
Lazy ass, ride him.
First he’s lazy. Second, he loves to watch you bounce on his cock, chasing your own high. Third, let’s not forget about his missing arm. Last, this man is living for the sight of your body and his cock disappearing inside you with each roll of your hips. He’s looking at you with a smug face, hand glued to your ass whenever you’re not facing him. “Ride me, don’t be lazy, you can do better.” With another playful spank. Even if you being on top is his usual go-to because it’s easier for him, this man just loves fucking you. Against the wall, doggy style, on the ground, against the railing of his ship, in the middle of a loud party… he’s not that picky. If you want to laugh, he can try missionary but let’s be honest, it’s hard to hold that kind of position and keep his balance at the same time. “Alriiight, gonna move your ass or what? Unless you really want to see me falling on you like a poor lost seal.” He’s so silly but you don’t have the time to burst into laughter, he’s too focused on fucking you through another orgasm.
Donquixote Rosinante
11,5 inches - a gentle giant with a fat cock
It’s long, thick, but don’t worry, Corazon is a sweetheart. In fact, he’s always scared to hurt you, his big goofy hands so shaky when they rest on your hips or legs. Of course, his tip is sensitive, always leaking with precum. Smooth skin with little veins running along the sides. “You’re so good for me…” He’s always kissing you, smearing his lipstick on your cheeks, adorable moans falling free from his lips.
For your own good, ride him.
The truth is: Corazon has always been a bit goofy, but he turned even more goofy just to make the kids of the Family laugh. But now, it’s written in his DNA, he’s goofy even when he’s trying to be serious - so yes, even when he’s fucking you. Opening a condom wrapper? Thick, shaky fingers struggling to do so. Spreading some lube? Be sure the bottle is going to fall, lube flooding everywhere in the process. Taking off your clothes? He’s ripping them off, accidentally, unlike Lucci. So fucking you? Please, he’s so scared of literally crushing you under his weight. Just ride him, or he’s going to be super nervous the whole time. Plus, it’s quite satisfying to ride this giant, his face all flushed, hips stammering as you take him as deep as you can. “Don’t look at me or I’m just going to cum…” His cock is always throbbing and twitching inside you. A big kisser, a lover of hugs and aftercare. He has some kinks, of course, but he’s so shy about it. He’s a giver after all. If you indulge in his fantasies, he’s praising you so nicely, your heart is melting.
Bartolomeo
6 inches - with too many piercings
Girthy, veiny, hard in a blink whenever you’re around. But what’s interesting about him is the indecent amount of piercings he has. You never thought so many piercings were even possible on a dick. Sure, he has a prince albert. But not only. Magic cross, lorum, hafada, frenum, foreskin, dydoe, apadravya… you’re learning new names every day with him. And no, he won’t take them off. “Fuck, your tongue feels like heaven.” He’s a freak, he has no courtesy, but he’s also a simp, always worshiping you. Don’t worry, he knows how to use his piercings.
Full Nelson, mostly.
“Fuck, tremblin’ already?” He’s impaling you on his length, splitting you open, holding you tight, his fangs plunging into the soft flesh of your neck or dirty talking you. Big arms flexing as he holds the underside of your knees, slamming you down onto his cock hard enough because the sound of skin slapping against skin is his favorite music. You’re clenching like a vice around him, struggling to stretch around his girth, but those piercings are hitting all your sensitive spots. Once you’re wrecked, he will manhandle you like a ragdoll, flipping you on your stomach or back, feasting on your neck, covering your skin with bites, hickeys, scratches, printing in his memory your strained face, half-lidded eyes fluttering close every time his piercings are bullying your inside. He's a fucking freak yet an absolute sweetheart at the same time.
Usopp
5,5 inches - but will say 6 inches
Poor Usopp is way too self-conscious so he rounds up to 6, but honestly, he’s not small, just average length and girth, with a glistening brown tip and a few nice veins. Adorable moans when you’re jerking him off, shaky hands yet light-feathered touch whenever he’s touching you - so carefully, always afraid to mess up. “Am I doing this right?” It is probably the thing you will hear the most from him. He just needs a bit of guidance and reassurance. Let’s not forget this man is creative and has some good eyes. With enough patience and kindness, he will manage to map all your body and learn all your weaknesses.
Spooning is so soft.
It’s sweet, he can kiss you on the back of your neck, targeting all those weaknesses he cautiously learned. The only thing that annoys him is probably his nose. As long as he can hold you, he’s not too picky. You being on top is nice because he’s sure to not mess up, his focus split between how beautiful you look and fingers brushing your skin softly to make you feel just nice. The feeling of skin against skin is pure paradise to him, so lotus is nice as well, it’s sensual, steamy, he’s feeling the gentle beats of your heart. “You’re making me feel so good…” He’s remembering every single detail of you, not only to please you, but also to draw you. Will randomly draw you whenever he has some time and then show it to you, as a reminder of how beautiful you are when consumed by bliss.
⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.
I'm going to begin posting these weekly, where I will showcase a specific Card/Date/Secret Time/Memoria with some of my favorite voice lines attached! Zayne is my main, so I will probably be working through his cards first for the time being, but I promise I will eventually get to everyone! All of the actors are incredible!
If you haven't found the time, the desire to look-up, or even just missed out on Zayne's spiciest Secret Times, I've brought you some morsels to peak your interest and hopefully even your love of Zayne's voice.
Today, we're focusing on the absolute sleeper-hit, that is, Silent Poem. I will never be over this particular secret time. Those who disagree can pry it from my cold, dead hands, and it will still live on in my memory.
I'm going to let this card ruin you all now too...
I suggest using headphones so you will also be able to hear every delicious detail!
This whole card is quite suggestive, but for the love of God, the last three clips are pretty NSFW so PLEASE do not listen to this in a public environment if you're foregoing headphones!
Still alive? These next ones might just end you.
I placed the MDNI banner, because these are by far the most intense parts of the card and there are definitely...noises...in the background. However, this is also officially in the game itself, which does not yet have a Mature rating, so do with that what you will.
Have you ever wondered what he sounds like when he...you know..?
You can stop wondering now.
Roll call! Is everyone still in one piece? I'm definitely not!
This card RUINED ME in the best possible way. I went in completely blind when I was collecting all of these cards and was focused only on the gorgeous artwork.
Honestly, I went into this card expecting heartache, pain, and LORE. What did I get instead? Something completely unexpected and deliciously filthy. (AND YES, IT'S ALL OF THEIR CARDS, THE VISUALS SCREAM LORE BUT THE CONTENT SCREAMS "HOW IS THIS GAME NOT CONSIDERED 18+ YET?!)
As I've mentioned in my last three posts highlighting this man's sensational work through Tomorrow's Catch-22 banner, I am already this VA's biggest fan. He has my favorite voice of all the LI's (this is NOT hate, they are all PHENOMENAL and fit their characters incredibly well!)
Zayne's voice just happens to hit differently for me. It is definitely not for everyone, as clearly expressed by those who find him too stiff or monotone. And I agree, his voice is stiff. It absolutely is monotone when you first meet him and even through the first few dates and interactions you have with him. But here's the thing - it's supposed to be. He's supposed to be that stoic, unapproachable, awkward man who you really can't get a read on.
It's not as sinfully deep as Sylus', or dreamy like Xavier's. It's definitely not as playful as Rafayel's and it's not quite as charming like Caleb's.
Zayne's voice is dulcet. It's not incredibly deep, but it is pleasingly low and he speaks with an even, gentle cadence. Once you pass all the cute awkwardness of the first few dates, you start noticing it more and more. The difference becomes stark, so much so that people have even questioned if it was a different VA. But nope, same voice - just different situations and definitely different levels of intimacy!
(I also think with the OG 3 VAs, they evolved so much from all of their original content and have made these characters their own! Sylus' VA came in as a heavy-hitter from day one, he's incredible! I can listen to his voice all day. Caleb's voice is taking some time for me to really enjoy, but listening to some of his Secret Times have gotten me to fold a bit)
Zayne really hits his stride when him and MC are past that "will we, won't we" flirting phase. After that he's just an absolute menace, and his stoic voice suddenly comes alive with teasing and deadpan humor. You can hear the smiles and laughter in his voice, even if you don't always see it in his expression. And I think the VA does such a lovely job of it. He shows you that Zayne isn't cold or shy at all, and that beneath that reserve he's incredibly confident and flirty with MC.
Ok...I can go on and on and on (and I will in other posts, probably) so I'll pause here for now.
Hope you had as much fun listening as I did clipping these.
Hope they inspired some dreamy thoughts about our dear, big snowman and that he does indeed have some heat to him!
As always, see you in the next one.
If you have any suggestions/requests for upcoming showcases or even certain lines you want me to focus on, let me know!
Zayne x fem.reader | a Love and Deepspace fanfiction
wc: 1,1k | read on Medium
warnings: childhood friends, kissing
“It’s fortunate for us to be here early.” His words break the peace.
The windows remember how intense the downpour was. Fat beads of water sprint to the edge, only to be forgotten and replaced by new ones. The chilling air seeps through every space it can find. It dampens people’s desire to step outside the cafe unless they’re holding something warm to keep the cold at bay.
Zayne rests comfortably against the chair pad. Those hazel-green eyes follow where the wind blows the fallen leaves. Wet asphalt has witnessed it all—what sticks with you can go when the time comes. Like a destined goodbye. Feels familiar. Rain, every so often, drags him down into the undefined despair. A brief memory flashes, and the gaze glides along the breeze. It stops at the woman he’s sitting with.
The parted lips come to attention. His weary heart softens when they move. A higher pitch resonates when the man lands a joke that’s too vintage for his age. That lip makeup… he can’t name the shade. Can’t remember it. What he knows, the color matches your presence. Also, the texture. Creamy. Soft. How easily it smudged onto him, yet how stubbornly it lingered in the morning after that stormy night.
“Stay the night,” he suggested. Folded glasses in hand.
“Is that okay?” Hesitation colored your tone.
“Yes. The storm won’t end soon, and driving in this weather would only put us at risk.”
The silence tinted the room with a mutual understanding.
Your previous visits had always been in the golden warmth that fell through the windows. That night, it’s replaced by the yellow light casting shadows and quiet tension. The movie credits continued to roll on the screen. Mint wrappers and empty water bottles littered the table, and you remained glued to the couch. Your thigh brushed his.
The ticking clock almost touched the twin digits. The sound held the atmosphere like a ripple in a still lake—a soft countdown he feared would unravel his guard.
“Your hand feels cold.” The comment fell calmly as he took the remote from you. His own fingers weren’t any warmer either. It’s just a harmless attempt to break the awkwardness that still slipped between you from time to time, no matter how long he’d known you. What he heard next was a light protest that his touch didn’t help much either.
On most nights, stormy or clear, silence rings throughout his domain. His bedtime routine runs without interruption, broken only by the nurses calling him back in. Heavy breaths stirred by blurry scenes that leave a vivid pang within him. Damn. That nightmare again. Sweat gathers at his temples as his composure sinks into that quiet, unnamed longing.
That night, the voice that had echoed randomly in his mind, like when he saw carrot salad at lunch or when he got macaroons, was there.
The warm gaze darted to the empty bed for a moment and went back to you.
“We’ve spent much time sorting documents and filling our stomachs. It’s already late. You should rest,” he made sure he sounded steady. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep here.”
His hand smoothed out your hair, lit by the dim light. Your eyelashes flickered as he studied the lines of your face.
“You can sleep beside me. I mean… that’s your bed, after all.”
Your suggestion awakened feelings he had been holding back. Quiet, but there. One rational statement from you pulled the last strands of logic in him. It must have been the storm, he convinced himself. Ridiculous how the unpleasant weather made everything feel extra intimate.
“What do you mean by that?” his voice lowered. The stare stayed longer on your chin; he swore his heart would have frozen if his thumb hadn’t brushed it first. He waited, and waited, weighing his next words while reading the gleam in your eyes. “What if…”
“Zayne, you—”
Like snowflakes falling to the ground, his lips landed on yours. Cotton-soft, breath held, unmoving. Closing his eyes, he mentally counted, ready for any kind of turndown, even a slap. God knew he had lost, completely surrendered by the surging longing he suppressed, locked with the key thrown to the place he wouldn’t reach for.
What sticks with you can go when the time comes.
It could have been that time.
“Zayne,” the name left your lips softer, “we’re friends.”
Of course. He knew you had befriended him from the moment you bowed before his parents. Hair braided, red bandana around your head, tiny woven gloves keeping you warm from the hand-sized snowman he’d made. It won’t melt, he remarked, as if he knew you would be sad if it did. And he was aware, years of history would be the most reasonable counter. Stay where you are, how impudent, or whatever thoughts were echoing in his mind.
He pulled back. Your creamy-lipped mouth parted, a question trembling at the edge. Another moment of waiting, thinking about how he had already ruined everything, and maybe he would disappear for a while after.
But then, he could feel your arms around his neck. Gently, but firmly. The mint he’d tasted earlier returned—warmer this time, coming from your mouth, your desire for more. He followed your body down to the couch, caging you without a second thought. Is this what you want? What happens if I go further? Those questions faded the second your muffles and soft gasps filled the space as he went lower.
“…and they— Zayne, are you okay?”
Eyes blink, his back straightens. “Yeah. I am.”
“You haven’t touched your hot chocolate, and your croissant’s about to meet its new owner soon. Are you even listening to me?”
He glances to the side. The dark surface in the paper cup stops releasing steam. Long fingers reach, caress the white material for a moment, while settling the thoughts that drew him into a long train of memory. Sweetness, now in his dictionary, isn’t only the things he can order and taste whenever he wants.
“So, you’ll be going to Skyhaven next week?” Behind the glasses, the calm gaze meets its companion. He asks something he already knows, just to buy him more seconds. Your answer trails somewhere, an indistinct noise as his gaze dips—to your lips, then lower.
Your ring finger catches the light, unconscious movements as you’re talking. Adorned with nothing, unclaimed. His throat works before any sound does, as if it can clear the thoughts he shouldn’t be having. An index finger adjusts the loose glasses, then back to his cup, slightly tightening the grip before loosening it again.
He nods in all the right places. Smooth and chill. Keywords about wanderers and missions pass his ears, and your ring finger comes to his attention again. The chair creaks softly as he shifts his weight, pulling his gaze back to your face like nothing happened.
