#zash writes

[1zashreena1]

YOU ALREADY KNOW

Murder Panther

Don Daddy

Actual Werepanther

Voting ended onFeb 11, 2023

[1zashreena1]

Here, take this old short snippet from early on in their relationship

Rated E for sex toys, mentions of dick, Murder Panther being Murder Panther

My taglist is really old so please feel free to ignore if you're no longer into it, no obligations or expectations here

TAGLIST: @symbiont13 @girlpornparadise @heresathreebee @joalsglasses @mutantcookiesecrets ​ @demoncatstone ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog ​ @poeedamerons ​@massivecolorspygiant @fleurfatale89 @unicorn-cloud @adesertdaydream @nocturnal-milk-dud @chick-from-nz @oldstuffnewstuff @dashavau @revolution-starter

Bring your vibrator⚡🔋

That's it. That was the whole text from Diego. At 4:42 in the morning.

He's probably asleep now, but you have to answer him. Its impossible to ignore Murder Panther.

Its only Wednesday. Do you have any chill?

Getting him riled up is half the fun. You start to head for the bathroom when the little bouncing dots appear. Oh god, he is awake.

No. What are you wearing

You're not even mad. A pic of your bare feet in the bathroom disappears into the ether. You get a pic of his pants abandoned on the floor.

Now get in the shower Princess

Okay, you really do send him shower nudes because you can hear the growl and you like it. But the video he sends you almost makes you late for work.

So. Much. Dick.

[1zashreena1]

Experiencing sudden and violent possessive rage over Murder Panther

Your bitch is back y'all

[1zashreena1]

Rereading my own Murder Panther fic because I love the way he loves mePrincess voraciously and with a fuckton of orgasms and/or expensive ass bags

[1zashreena1]

53 💋

------------------

He's gonna freak out, you smile to yourself in the rearview mirror. Your level of glee has reached almost sadistic orneriness. It feels so different, you cannot stop touching it, Like I'm a different person.

The old security guard at the airport flirts mercilessly as only harmless old men can do, your normal pilot and her copilot both gasp about how stunning it is, and Bastian nearly drops his Starbucks when you descend the ramp in New York.

Diego is sitting at the breakfast bar, frowning sexily at his laptop, when you step off the elevator. One huge hand waves you closer, but he doesn't look up to greet you, "Hello Princess, come and tell me how was your flight. Good, yes?"

There's already an opened bottle of Mexican Coke waiting for you.

I love this man, you smirk and slide onto the stool next to your fiancé. He *still* doesn't look up though. Sighing, you finally respond, "It was fine, like always. What are you watching?"

The laptop seems to be playing security cam footage, That's never good. Diego replays the clip yet again before answering, "Do you see a woman--"

He finally looks at you. His reaction is worth the four hour salon appointment. Those bottomless brown eyes are huge, his brows shoot up comically, and that bearded jaw goes like a fish out of water until he eventually spits out, "WOMAN!"

You dissolve into shrieking giggles at the effect that your straightened hair has garnered. The thick curtain of locks falls well past your butt and makes an audible thunk on the countertop when you turn your head. Diego reaches out with both massive hands and begins to stroke over your crown almost obsessively. He tucks both sides behind your ears with childish delight before leaning in touch foreheads.

With a swift kiss to your nose Diego murmurs slyly, "Always so slick for me, Princess."

[1zashreena1]

Comfort Food

Taco/Female oc (plus size)

Please have this addled fever dream drabble

No porn, only soft. I can't breathe deeply enough to pant thru smut rn.

Gif credit @girlpornparadise

The knock wakes you up. You blink blearily around the little efficiency apartment while trying to remember which way is up. The tv is still on, it's just the little smart tv menu, so whatever voice you're hearing is definitely outside. 

It's also definitely male. 

Undeniably male. A soft rasp. Not so low as to be intimidating, but certainly intriguing.

Come to think of it, the grandma that you rented this teeny over-the-garage apartment from did say that she had a son who worked entirely too much. His own business.  Or something.

Your pajama pants aren't exactly clean, per se, but you're clothed, so it counts. He knocks again just as you get to the lock and slide the chained bolt back. The door swings open with its distinctive creeeeeeeeee-yip and…

Yeah. 

That is.

That is A MAN.

Holy jesus fuckin christ, Mary, and Abraham, too. What in the actual fuck.

First off, he's wearing flip flops. That should not be attractive. And plaid pajama pants. Also, categorically not sexy. A dark colored t shirt, the v-neck is displaying an impressive amount of ink in the form of neck tats that you have never before wanted to lick on a man. But above that is an absolutely gorgeous face with a chiseled jaw, full lips, salt and pepper stubble, high cheekbones, a long, straight nose, dark, bottomless eyes, and naturally perfect eyebrows. All set within tan skin and fetching laugh lines under a riot of black curls.

I am so fucked. 

--------------------

"Hey, uh, I'm, I'm Taco, Marguerite's son. She said she hasn't seen you in a few days, thought you might be sick, so I made some soup." That delicious rasp sounds about as confused as you are. He thrusts the tupperware container at you with a gentle sloshing (Good grief, that must be original '70s) and you stare rudely.

His hands are fucking huge.

Your brain immediately supplies thoughts of finally meeting a man whose hands are big enough to cup your boobs. No! The nails are really short, but it's obvious he does manual labor. Taco's forearms are rippling with muscle and your fever addled libido is fascinated. Beyond that are stupidly broad shoulders--

And we're right back to the neck tats. 

"Hi," you croak unpleasantly with a wince. Hell, even Taco winces. Gamely, you push onward, "Sorry, I sound like shit. Not the best way to meet someone."

Taco takes in your bedraggled hair and baggy pajamas with a not so suppressed smirk, although compassion shimmers in those chocolate eyes. Oh no, please not with the bottomless brown eyes. He rumbles soothingly, "Nah, you're fine. Everybody gets sick, right?"

The soup is still hot and it feels good enough that you clutch it to your chest. It also feels good to have someone care for you. As if he can read your mind, Taco asks, "You alone out here? Mama said you moved here from way out east."

Coming from virtually anyone else this question would be highly suspect. Despite his hulking presence and intimidating ink, Taco feels oddly safe. Oh, he could definitely fuck somebody up, but it wouldn't be you. You're nodding before you realize it, "Yeah. I had to get away. Like, really far away."

Anything else is cut off by a coughing fit that doubles you over. Tears drip onto your tie dyed pants while you gasp for air. Taco takes the container back with his left hand while the right lands on your back. The lack of oxygen results in the floor magically elevating itself toward your face, until a strong arm wraps around your middle. 

"Hey, easy there. I got you." The reassurance is growled directly into your ear and how the hell can your nipples be so alert when you're, like, dying? Taco proceeds to pick you up and gently drop your limp form on the loveseat about five feet to the left. The old furniture sags when he sits, too, but the massive hand rubbing your back is a great distraction from worrying about if the flowered monstrosity might collapse. 

"Sorry," your voice sounds like you just survived a horror movie, two hours of screaming included. Taco is still rubbing your back and it feels really nice. He smells nice, too, like coffee and fabric softener. Are you snuggled into that mysteriously broad chest? Yep.

"While I certainly don't mind holding a beautiful woman," His chuckle vibrates beneath your palms (When did you start groping him? Why the fuck does he have such magnificent pecs?) Taco continues, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. I mean, we literally just met."

Oh shit, he's a gentleman, too?? You are so screwed.

"Uh, yeah, true. Sorry. And thank you. For the soup, and, you know, the whole picking me up." Looking up proves nearly fatal, those brown eyes are soft and warm. The laugh lines and sprinkling of silver at his temples only make him all the more handsome. You feel like he could be legitimately dangerous, but only in a fierce protector way.

"So, um. Look, I'm just downstairs, round the back if you need anything. More soup, tissues, another hug from a virtual stranger, whatevs." He shoots you a wink and then stands to go to the door. You can't help but laugh, he's not wrong.

"I might just take you up on that." Are you seriously flirting with a nasty head cold? But, those shoulders… 

His voice is soft as he steps outside and closes the door behind him, "Get some rest, chiquita."

---------- 

The soup is really fucking good.

[1zashreena1]

Murder Panther.

But actual panther.

What level of monsterfucker would y'all be willing to tolerate here?

not like it's already written or anything

[1zashreena1]

Have you read my stuff?

THANK YOU

While I enjoy the likes and love the comments and adore the reblogs, you are under no obligation to do anything. I'm writing this because I like to, I'm sharing because I hope other people have a good time, too.

I appreciate you, Reader!

That's it. Go forth and do things you like, dear readers!