zorobot

i ate the scrunkly scrunkly fruit animanga, brain junk, smut reblogs MINORS DNI 21 | they/she

[zorogasm]

byf!

hi, you can call me zorobot for now : ) i mainly post one piece (general/zolu), other animanga i like, funny textposts, queer stuff. i also reblog smut/18+ content (usually fics).

DNF if you are a minor. DNI with any 18+ content on my page if you are a minor. if i have a popular, super relatable non nsfw post going around i don’t mind minors interacting with it. but still abide by my two rules please.

if you are ageless or ignore these rules as a minor i will block.

thanks, tehe!

[zaerilyn]

SUBLIMATION, guide on how to piss off a fire lord in 10 sec ♡

18+ MDNI, adult!zuko, established relationship, possessive & fiercely jealous!zuko, petty!zuko, touch-starved, spanking / light discipline, overstimulation, mirror sex, size kink, heavy fingering / clit stimulation, creampie, dom!zuko.

❝ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥? 𝘰𝘩, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ ❞ 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

The royal dining room smelled like braised komodo turkey, warm spices, and impending chaos. That last ingredient was entirely Sokka’s fault.

He had arrived two days ago under the very reasonable pretense of a “diplomatic visit” which everyone in the palace understood to mean he had eaten all the sea prunes in the South Pole and needed a change of scenery. He had immediately made himself at home in the most aggressively Sokka way possible—reorganizing the palace kitchen’s meat storage, loudly critiquing the royal chefs’ spice choices, and staging what he called a “cultural exchange” that mostly involved teaching three Imperial Guards how to play Pai Sho wrong.

Zuko was handling it with the strained, tight-jawed dignity of a man who genuinely loved his brother-in-arms and also, genuinely, desperately wished he would go home.

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life.

“The problem,” Sokka announced, gesturing with his chopsticks at nobody in particular, “is that Fire Nation desserts don’t hit right. Too much spice. Not enough—I don’t know—comfort.”

“They’re not supposed to be comfortable,” Zuko said flatly, not looking up from his bowl. “They’re supposed to be refined.”

“Refined.” Sokka repeated it like a curse word. He looked at you across the wide lacquered table. “Y/N, back me up. You’ve eaten in the North. You know what a good dessert tastes like.”

“I’m staying out of this,” you said serenely, pouring yourself a cup of jasmine tea.

“Smart woman.” Zuko reached for his own tea.

“Traitor,” Sokka said to you, but his tone was fond. He jabbed his chopsticks toward the small porcelain dish near the center of the table. It was a delicate Fire Nation layered cake, dark red bean paste between thin sheets of honey sponge, dusted with powdered cinnamon. “I’ll admit, though. That thing looks dangerous. In a good way.”

“It’s yuèbing-style,” you said, leaning forward slightly to inspect it. “Fire Nation adaptation. They bake it with dragon fruit reduction instead of lotus paste.”

Sokka’s eyes lit up with the specific enthusiasm he reserved for food and battle strategy. “Okay. Okay, that sounds incredible, actually—”

“It is,” you confirmed. You picked up a small serving spoon, cut a neat portion, and held it out. Not toward Sokka, but toward the man sitting directly to your left.

Zuko stiffened.

It was a nearly imperceptible thing. A millimeter of tension across his broad shoulders, a slight sharpening of his gaze as it dropped to the spoon now hovering in the space between you. The cake sat there, perfectly portioned, an earnest little offering from his fiancée.

He looked at it. He looked at Sokka, who was watching the exchange with the focused, calculating attention of a man who had once tracked a sea serpent across open water for three days on a bet.

Zuko looked back at the spoon.

“I have my own utensils,” he said.

You blinked. “I know. I’m offering you mine.”

“I can feed myself.”

“Zuko—”

“I’m twenty-eight years old.”

The silence that followed was exquisite. You held his gaze for one long beat. He held it back, expression perfectly composed, jaw set at the precise angle you had privately catalogued as his I am the Fire Lord and I am not flustered, what are you talking about, I am completely fine angle.

You lowered the spoon.

Across the table, Sokka made a sound that wasn’t quite a cough and wasn’t quite a laugh, but existed somewhere in the loaded territory between them. You caught his eye.

Something passed between you. It was wordless, instantaneous, and absolutely damning. It was the specific telepathy that develops between two people who both find the same man endearing in his mortifying stubbornness.

You looked back down at the spoon in your hand. Then, with the serene composure of someone who had absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever, you turned slightly in your seat and extended the spoon across the table toward Sokka instead.

“Sokka,” you said pleasantly. “Do you want to try it?”

Sokka’s expression went from conspiratorial delight to the studied, innocent blankness of a seasoned chaos agent. He straightened in his seat. He placed a solemn hand over his heart.

“I,” he said gravely, “would be honored.”

He leaned forward. He accepted the spoon. He closed his eyes as he tasted it with the theatrical reverence of a man experiencing a religious event, and then he let out a low, appreciative groan that was at least forty percent louder than necessary.

“Oh,” Sokka breathed. “Oh, that’s—Y/N. Y/N, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Isn’t it?” you agreed warmly.

“I might have to move into the Fire Nation palace permanently.”

“We have a lovely east wing.”

“Perfect. I’ll take it.”

The temperature in the dining room had been climbing for approximately twelve seconds. You felt it before you looked. It was the specific, simmering heat that radiated off Zuko when his composure was being tested. The barely-leashed inner fire usually only made itself known when he was in the middle of a council session gone wrong, or when his fiancée had just deliberately fed another man dessert right in front of him.

Zuko was staring at Sokka with an expression so flat and so incinerating it could have stripped paint from the walls.

Sokka, to his eternal credit, met that stare with the breezy, untroubled grin of a man who had survived a war and therefore had genuinely recalibrated his fear threshold. He set the spoon down on the table between you with a small, precise click.

“I mean,” Sokka said, in the tone of someone making a completely reasonable observation, “you did turn it down.”

You pressed your lips together very hard.

“You specifically said,” you added, with perfect innocence, “that you could feed yourself.”

Zuko turned to look at you. The flat expression had not moved. If anything, it had intensified. His golden eyes tracked from your face to the spoon to Sokka’s deeply satisfied expression and back to your face again, and you watched the precise moment he decided he was not going to dignify this with a response.

He reached across the table. He picked up the spoon. He cut himself a portion of the cake with the silent, deliberate calm of a man who was certainly not bothered. He ate it. He set the spoon down.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“Just fine?” Sokka asked.

“It’s cake, Sokka.”

“Y/N said it was incredible—”

“The conversation,” Zuko said, with a finality that had once ended full council meetings, “is over.”

You and Sokka thought it was funny.

Well. Your little prank is not so funny now.

Because right now, you are in the Fire Lord’s private chambers, stripped bare and face-down across his lap with the heavy silk sheets bunched uselessly beneath your palms, rapidly revising your opinion of the entire spoon incident.

He had been very calm about it. That was the most unnerving part. No raised voice, no dramatic declaration. Just the quiet deliberate efficiency of a man with a point to make and absolutely no intention of rushing. He walked you through the mahogany doors, turned the lock, sat down on the edge of the mattress, and looked at you. That was all it took. One look, and here you were: draped across his lap as his large calloused hand rested light and warm at the small of your back, the blistering heat of his thighs radiating straight through your bare skin, the horrible charged anticipation of waiting.

“You thought that was funny,” he said. Not a question. His voice was low, that gravelly unhurried register that did something catastrophic to your better judgment.

“A little,” you admitted, into the sheets.

His hand lifted. It came down with a sharp deliberate crack across the curve of your backside, and the sound that tore out of you was not dignified in any conceivable way.

“Zuko—”

“A little.” He repeated it perfectly even. His palm smoothed immediately over the sting, the scorching heat of his hand pressing into the bloom of warmth he had left behind. Your whole body clenched involuntarily at the contrast, the sharp bite of it dissolving almost instantly into a spreading maddening heat that pooled low and heavy in your core. “We’ll revisit that.”

He did it again. And again. Slow and measured, with that ruthless patience he applied to absolutely everything—council sessions, fire katas, and the systematic dismantling of your composure. Each strike was followed by the same soothing pass of his palm, his thumb tracing the flushed curve of your skin almost tenderly, and the combination of it was genuinely unhinged. Your fingers twisted into the silk. Your hips rolled without your permission. You heard the low dark exhale that came from him in response.

That was the thing about him. Zuko’s jealousy was a quiet, suffocating weight. He operated with the exact same obsessive, single-minded intensity that had once driven him across the globe for three years. Now, all of that relentless focus was trapped inside this room, directed entirely at stripping away your composure until you remembered exactly who claimed you.

You supposed that’s just how Fire Lord Zuko is. The jealous type.

By the time he finally stilled his hand, your skin was flushed a vivid burning pink, radiating its own warmth, every trace of your natural waterbender’s cold chased clean out of you. Your breathing was a wreck. The sheets beneath your palms were damp from the faint frost that had spiked off your overwhelmed skin and melted instantly against the furnace heat of his thighs.

“There,” Zuko murmured, his hand resting warm and still against your lower back. His voice had dropped into something quieter. Not soft exactly, but settled. Certain. “There you are.”

What came after was not gentle, and it was not quick.

He put you on all fours. His hands were sure and unhurried as he arranged you exactly where he wanted you, and the first stroke of his cock splitting you open dragged a completely ruined sound out of your throat that you felt no shame about whatsoever. He was thick and devastating at this angle, every thrust bottoming out so deep you felt it behind your navel, his hips snapping into the still-flushed spanked curve of your ass with a sharp filthy sound that filled the entire chamber. His long dark hair had come loose from its tie and fell around his face as he leaned over you, the ends brushing your spine, and even half-wrecked as you were the sight of him in your peripheral vision made it worse—that sharp jaw locked tight, those golden eyes dark with focus, the broad scarred expanse of his chest sheened faintly with exertion, lean muscle shifting with every drive of his hips.

He fucked you thoroughly. Properly. Deep hard strokes at a pace that left you completely incoherent, your arms trembling, your face pressing into the pillow as your own voice became entirely unrecognizable to you. Tears tracked silently down your cheeks, the bright overwhelmed kind that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the total dissolution of every last piece of your composure. You came with a broken sob muffled into the silk, clenching hard around him, and he followed close after with a low wrecked groan pressed between your shoulder blades, his hands gripping your hips so tight you’d feel it tomorrow.

For a moment, you both just breathed.

Then he drew you up.

He positioned you with those large certain hands, your back against his chest, his legs bracketing yours, the scorching wall of him solid at your spine. You were facing the mirror at the foot of the bed. You understood immediately, completely, why it was where it was.

You looked absolutely catastrophic. Your hair was a total wreck, dark strands plastered to your flushed tear-damp cheeks. Your lips were swollen. Your eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, the look of someone who had been thoroughly taken apart and hadn’t been put back together yet. Your cool skin was flushed with heat and steaming faintly where it pressed against the blistering heat of his chest, the fire-and-ice contrast rendered almost obscene in the amber glow of the hearth.

And then there was Zuko behind you, which was a genuinely unfair thing to have to look at in this particular state. His dark hair was fully loose now, falling in thick dishevelled waves past his jaw and brushing his scarred collarbone. His chest was bare, broad and heavily muscled with the lean hard lines of a man who had trained every day of his life, old battle scars mapping his torso in silver and pale gold. His jaw was tight, a muscle feathering in his scarred cheek. His golden eyes burned steady in the low firelight, fixed entirely on you. He looked like something forged from fire and focused want. You looked like you’d been hit by a wave and hadn’t surfaced yet.

The contrast was genuinely criminal.

His chin hooked over your shoulder. His golden eyes found yours in the glass and held.

“Don’t look away, princess,” he said quietly.

His hand slid down your stomach.

You were already so sensitized that when his fingers found your clit, your whole body jolted on pure reflex. His other arm banded across your ribs immediately, dragging you back flush against him, keeping you exactly and inescapably in place.

“Zuko—” His name fractured in your throat. “I can’t, I’m already—”

“I know,” he said. He didn’t stop.

His fingers worked your clit in tight relentless circles, the direct pressure against something so oversensitized from everything before that every stroke felt like too much and not enough at the same time. His other hand slid up to cup your left breast, squeezing the soft weight of it before his fingers found your nipple and pinched, sharp enough to make you gasp and clench and dig your nails into his forearm hard enough to leave marks.

“Look at the mirror,” he said against your ear.

You looked. You wished briefly that you hadn’t. Your face was a complete disaster, mouth open, eyes wet, cheeks scarlet, expression stripped down to pure sensation with nothing held back at all. The image of you coming apart while he remained so devastatingly composed behind you, his dark eyes tracking your every reaction with that consuming focused attention, was enough to make your thighs shake all over again.

His fingers tightened on your nipple, a rolling pinch that sent a sharp spike straight down to your already screaming clit. Then the hand at your core shifted, two fingers curling inside you while his thumb flicked directly over your swollen bud, and you actually sobbed. Loud and undignified and completely beyond caring.

“Still think it was funny?” he murmured against your ear, low and dark and almost conversational. His fingers never lost their rhythm for a single second.

You opened your mouth. You were going to say a little. You had fully intended to say a little, purely on principle, right up until his thumb pressed down firm and his fingers curled deeper and his other hand delivered one sharp stinging flick directly to your clit. Your entire spine arced off his chest.

What came out instead was his name. Just his name, over and over, increasingly incoherent.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, low and rough against your temple.

The orgasm hit so hard your vision went white at the edges, your whole body shaking, thighs clamping shut around his hand. His arm was the only thing keeping you from sliding completely off the mattress. He worked you through every convulsing shuddering second of it without mercy, fingers pumping steadily through the clench of your walls, thumb drawing slow circles over your hypersensitive clit until the sounds you were making were mostly just breath and the occasional broken fragment of please.

He finally, mercifully, stilled.

The room was very quiet. The hearth crackled. Your chest heaved. His chin was still hooked over your shoulder and in the mirror his expression had shifted into something quieter. Still dark, still certain, but underneath it the faintest trace of the thing he could never quite say out loud in dining rooms and corridors. The thing that only ever came out like this.

A thin curl of steam rose where your sweat-damp skin pressed against the furnace of his chest. The hearth fire guttered once, sympathetically.

He lowered you both down onto the mattress slowly, tucking you against his chest the same way he always did, with that quiet absolute possessiveness, like the decision had been made a long time ago and he had no interest in revisiting it. His hand settled heavy and warm at the curve of your waist. His thumb began its slow idle circle.

You lay there completely and entirely destroyed, listening to his heartbeat gradually decelerate against your cheek. The burn of him had faded from overwhelming to something grounding, a steady bone-deep warmth seeping into places the cold had lived for years.

“For the record,” you said, into the quiet.

“Mm.”

“You could have just eaten the cake.”

A beat. Then, low and dry, his voice rumbling against your cheek. “I’m aware of that.”

“Would have been easier.”

“I said I’m aware, princess.”

You smiled against his skin. “I’m just saying. For future reference. If I offer you a spoon—”

“I’ll take the spoon.”

“Good.”

“Don’t test me again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, partially lying as you pressed a soft kiss to the scar over his eye.

prologue ⧽ read more

this is actually a bonus chapter from the main ‘sublimation’ universe ;)

[indiewritesxoxo]

COMMUNITY SERVICE SLUT

ᨦ ෆ ᨩ giving LOSER!CHOSO a blowjob for fifty bucks!

"you're so fuckin', hngh-"

choso didn't get to finish his sentence when he was desperately trying not to finish ten seconds into a sloppy blowjob, his veiny hands tangled in your hair and tugging hard as he threw his head back and groaned.

you almost giggled, manicured nails cupping his already tight balls as he made some other strangled sound as you messily sucked on his cock. it was bigger than you expected, all thick and girthy, pressing up against the roof of your mouth, throbbing on your tongue.

half an hour ago, you'd never spoken to the cute emo loser huddling in a hoodie on the corner of the couch and sipping a bitter beer by himself. the sort of guy who rarely spoke to anyone, just stuck to himself and only showed up because his brother dragged him along. he'd been staring though, dark eyes following you across the room, drifting down to the way your dress clung to your hips, and all it took was your friends snickering and suggesting he'd cum before you even touched him for you to take their bet.

they'd been wrong though.

choso wasn't exactly the innocent virgin half the campus thought he was.

"filthy girl," choso hissed, and when you glanced up, you could see the thick lump bobbing hard in his throat, a necklace between his teeth as he pulled on your hair to guide you up-and-down his cock. his large glasses slipping lower and lower on the bridge of his nose, sliding past the thick tattooed strip as his dark eyes squinted down at you. "takin' my cock so goddamn good."

your thighs squeezed together, your throat constricting around around his swollen tip, arousal pooling hot and heavy in your stomach as you tried to remind yourself that he had probably just seen someone say that in porn, not-

"fuck."

he bucked his hips hard, forcing his cock in deeper, a weak whimper escaping your throat and erasing everything you thought you knew about him as the sudden realization struck you that he was the one fucking your mouth here right as his free hand wrapped around your throat, fingers slowly pressing down to feel you trying to swallow all the spit pooling around his dick.

"mmph, cho-" your whine was muffled by his next thrust up, your eyes scrunching shut as you found yourself stroking what you couldn't fit, squirming his other hand squeezed just enough to steal your breath.

"m'almost there," he grunted, all low and gravelly, the rough sound of his voice and the pressure of his fingers digging into your tendons leaving you craving him in a different hole.

but then he was cumming hard, his cock pulsing as it spilled down your throat, twitching as he let out the lewdest fucking moan you'd ever heard before - and immediately wanted to hear again.

you felt like a fucking idiot, on your knees and looking up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth when he slid his cock back out, watching him tuck it back into his dark jeans as he untethered himself from you only to shrug his shoulders and stand up.

unbothered as his bored stare dragged over your form, only bending down to wipe where a drop of his cum had been left on your lips.

"so did you win your bet?"

[ryoride]

ꮼ DO YOU LIKE THIS POSITION, DO YOU LIKE THIS POSITION !

cw: penetrative sex, detailed sexual positions, orgasms mentioned, fingering + eating combo, cunnilingus, strap-on use, freaked-out Sokka, men who yearn, not proofread.

ⓘ Featuring Aang, Zuko, Sokka, Toph, and Katara having very special, very favorite positions.

ⓘ AANG !

He got you in missionary once & has been addicted ever since.

He'll always be down for anything you ask for—but missionary is his go-to. From how easy it is to whisper in your ear, kiss your face, or massage your breast, he loooves it so much.

His favorite thing about missionary, though, is that whenever his thrusts hit just right, your nails will start digging in his back & leave red streaks as little secret reminders.

ⓘ ZUKO !

Zuko is easy to please; he likes every position you throw at him, but by far, spooning is his favorite.

One of the biggest reasons he likes spooning so much is the limited time before duty, or before resting, that you actually have to be intimate—he likes how sex never feels like a quickie even when that's mostly what you have time for.

Early in the morning? He can kiss your shoulder and whisper how pretty you look, taking all of him, and make sure you get breakfast in bed before going to work.

Late at night? He can feel you arch against him as you tell him how your day went—it doesn't matter what you're doing; if you're pressed up against him, thigh hiked over his hip, he's in heaven.

ⓘ SOKKA !

He cannot pick a favorite position for the life of him, so he likes to fuck in lotus & face off interchangeably.

They can be very similar depending on his mood & typically end with you moaning in each other's ears or making out, trying to drown out each other's noises.

If he wants to have something more intimate, he'll guide your legs to hook around his waist & try to kiss all over your skin between whimpers in lotus—or in face-off, he'll get a little less thoughtful with his thrusts & end up rougher than usual.

It depends on your moods, if you've been teasing each other, or if you just ask him to be rougher, but he likes both of those equally.

ⓘ TOPH !

Toph pulls the fingering & eating combo—that way, she can pull back to tease you and still be giving you stimulation.

She'll stop sucking or licking at your clit whenever she feels you tensing to tease you for finishing so quickly, as if she weren't putting her all into making you feel good.

Her favorite part is that she can pull off & talk you through it, though. Driving you crazy with just a little bit of dirty talk, it makes you both feel comfortable to giggle & deepen your connection.

She'll use her free hand to intertwine with yours & squeeze whenever she's really in the zone of munching—she's an expert with her fingers, taking great pleasure in the whines you make when she curls them just right.

ⓘ TOPH & HER STRAP !

Toph tries to be open to whatever you suggest but was very skeptical when you brought up buying a strap-on for the bedroom until you helped her put it on one night & rode her till your legs gave out.

The girl loves cowgirls, how your hands tremble holding yourself up, the whines of her name, and how you'll collapse into her chest whenever you're close, moaning against her neck & she can thrust her hips into yours to coax out louder noises.

She'll always stroke your back after you finish & is deeply grateful she agreed to buy the strap-on with you.

ⓘ KATARA !

She loves it whenever you sit on her face.

Her hands curl around your thighs, helping you roll your hips into a slow grind while her tongue explores your body—it's always so hot to know she's the reason your thighs are shaking.

Sometimes she'll trail a hand up to knead one of your breasts, eating harder whenever little gasps start to escape your lips for her.

Her favorite part of it is whenever you're getting close and start pulling at her hair & show her how much you need her.

ⓘ KATARA & HER STRAP !

She wanted to add some heat to the bedroom and picked out the prettiest sky blue strap to use on you—in every damn position she could think of. The position she'd had the best luck in was doggy style.

It's comfortable; she can rub your back, let you rock your hips back against her while adjusting & muffle yourself into your pillows.

She'll kiss your back when you're getting close & coo that you should let go for her and get so ecstatic whenever you finish.

[indiewritesxoxo]

HOP, BUNNY! starring easter bunny!nanami

mdni. fluff. smut. a certain cranky blond man has a soft spot for the hot MILF next door - and will do anything to get in your panties!

"do you wanna be my daddy?"

nanami choked on his cold coffee, hand flying up to cover his mouth before any could dribble out and stain the shirt he definitely didn't change three different times this morning before stepping outside for the short stroll to his car.

which, of course, just coincidentally lined up with you wrangling your five year old into your mini-van. which he also certainly didn't think about filling up with a few more car seats every time he saw the curve of your ass and the swell of your breasts when you bent to buckle your kid in. whether it was a pretty little pencil skirt clinging to your thighs or a t-shirt that looked sort of like you'd found it in the children's section considering how tight it was around your chest, he always ended up staring.

still, he was trying his damndest to be polite. simply neighborly when he offered to help load up your trunk with a cooler and snacks for your daughter's soccer game.

"honey," you softly scolded her, an adorable flustered expression flashing across your face as you rested your hand on your hip. truthfully, he didn't know what the situation was with your daughter's father. he didn't seem to be in the picture at all considering you always seemed to have custody of her. "you can't just ask him-"

"but you called him cute, and my friend said that-"

you shut the door before she could continue, pride flaring in his chest at the idea that maybe this feeling might be mutual right as he shut the trunk with his free hand.

"ignore her," you mumbled, avoiding his stare as fiddled with your key ring, readjusting your purse over your shoulder. "thanks for helping, by the way."

"of course," nanami murmured, stepping closer as he attempted to sound casual. "anything for you two."

you laughed, like it was a joke.

as if he wouldn't actually do anything to be your daughter's step-father. to be the daddy to her future siblings.

"you know, if you need me, I'm right next door," he added, wondering if he was coming off as desperate as he felt.

you made a face. nose scrunching up, like you needed something, but didn't know how to ask. biting your bottom lip as you leaned in, and maybe it was the whiff of perfume he caught, all sweet and intoxicating, or simply the way the sun was catching your eyes, something about the warmth that surrounded you rendering him incapable of making sound decisions.

how else would he wind up in a stuffy bunny costume the next weekend?

creeping in through your back door to surprise your daughter just because you asked? holding a big basket that he had decided to put together himself, picking out candies and trinkets and toys he thought she'd like?

it was awful inside the costume. it reeked faintly of plastic and manufacturing, sweltering as he struggled to see through the fuzzy eyes.

still, when you let out that giggle and he heard your daughter's excited squeal the second she saw him, he supposed what he sacrificed in dignity was more than made up for in the brownie points he sincerely hoped he was scoring for this.

and underneath it all, being here brought him a strange sense of satisfaction anyway. contentment. fuzzy feelings stirring in his chest at how easy it was to fit in, to be a part of a family. your daughter hugging one of his legs through the suit while he patted the top of her head, wishing he could see more of your face while you reminded her to thank him.

experiencing the tiniest taste of fatherhood watching your daughter flounce across your living room, dragging the easter basket he spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time on back to her bedroom, giggling and grinning about her newest treasure without a single care in the world.

and fuck, he wanted more.

"i think you can take that off now," you murmured, practically in his big, floppy ears as you tugged on the arm of his costume. "i still can't believe you actually showed up in that."

"i told you before i'd do anything," he softly said. "i'll be whatever you two want."

"even be her dad?" you said it light enough that it might be a joke. like you were expecting him to just laugh it off too.

but as you pulled down the zipper on the back, he refused to let the opportunity slip by him.

even if he was in a goddamn bunny costume.

"if that's what you want too," he bluntly answered, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

you made a small noise.

almost a squeak.

"nanami-"

you froze behind him as you breathed his last name and he resigned himself to the assumption that you had no interest in sharing it. he had to awkwardly turn and twist to get out of it himself. he'd dressed rather casually compared to what he usually wore around you, a compression shirt he typically saved for the gym clinging to his chest to disguise his sweating and cotton gym shorts that hung onto his muscled thighs.

bending over to grab the suit once he was fully free, about to toss it somewhere where your daughter wouldn't accidentally stumble across it and realize it was just him in a cheap costume, but he caught a glimpse of your expression, and realized you were actually checking out his ass.

"well?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as he paused there. "do i have to hop to hold your attention?"

he'd honestly rather you hop on something else.

but he wanted you to admit you wanted it too. just say out loud that this wasn't only in his head.

your eyes slowly dragged over the body he'd been in the gym five evenings a week for since the first month you moved in. chewing on the inside of your cheek as your glossy lips parted, "are you really flirting with me, mr. bunny?"

he couldn't tell if you were teasing or taunting. flat-out mocking him, maybe. mouth making that pretty 'o' he'd been fantasizing about kissing nearly every night as your lashes fluttered.

"should i stop?"

you shook your head. just a tiny little bob, your breath catching in your throat, trying to dare him to do something just with the heat in your stare. "no."

that was all he needed to know.

nanami kicked the bunny costume under your couch.

bridged the distance between you, thick fingers hesitating as they settled low on your hip, wrinkling that tiny sundress he was hoping you'd worn for him. an even trade, he supposed, suffering in the bunny costume just to see you in that.

you were looking expectantly at his mouth, and he found himself gravitating towards yours on instinct, leaning down before he could stop himself, his other hand cupping your soft cheek as his nose nudged against yours.

"i promised you payment, didn't i?"

he never thought it would come in the form of you bent over your kitchen counter five minutes later, dress hitched up high around your ass and panties caught around your thighs as he pounded into you. your moans muffled into his hand while he decorated your thought with delicate kisses.

teeth skimming the skin but not sinking in to break it, teasing you as his swollen cock stretched you out with messy thrusts. hips slamming into that ass he'd dreamed of, your thighs trembling as his free fingers played with your clit.

toying with that sensitive bundle of nerves, figuring out what made you squeeze around him, walls clamping down on his cock as he tried to explore every sensitive spot that had you whining his name into his palm.

"mm, mhm," you whimpered, something that sort of sounded like his last name breaking through as he clicked his tongue with disapproval.

"it's kento for you," he corrected, his breath warm on your skin as he felt some tight string in his stomach pull tight at the simple idea of you calling him that, abs tensing as you wiggled your hips back to force him in deeper. "you'll have my last name one day anyway."

your response was another low moan, his fingers twitching as he pressed harder on that perfect bundle of nerves between your thighs, feeling you unravel fast and hard as he tried to hold himself back.

it just wouldn't do to accidentally knock you up now.

not before he took you out on a proper date. made himself an official member of your family before accidentally adding another one.

even if your pretty pussy was trying to milk him for it.

"do you have any idea how difficult you're making this for me?" he grunted, hips slamming down as he tried to keep rubbing you through your high, chasing his own, the thick veins of his cock throbbing, his instincts screaming at him to cum inside of you. "how much it's killing me to not put a baby in you right now?"

you tried to reply, but it was barely coherent, just a slur of syllables as he rutted into you even faster.

and then you nodded.

shit.

maybe he'd need to invest in a better bunny costume.

it looked like he'd need it next year after all.

div cr: @/tsumiinum

reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated :3 originally this was going to be a crack fic where witch!reader cursed her grumpy neighbor to transform into various holiday mascots but alas i changed my mind

series | latest oneshots | patreon

[hoffrev]

we built this village

[cumnation]

the only drawback to making kento a father is the lack of 'alone time' you now get.

he was made to be a dad, there’s no doubt about it. he’s the perfect contender, stern but patient and understanding and so infatuated with fatherhood that you almost don’t mind the nightly interruptions.

almost. the sound of little padding footsteps leading up to your closed bedroom door gives you a trauma response now. how your husband can hold himself above you, inches away from dipping inside your sweet center, and still remain kind-eyed and cheery when your daughter starts banging on the shut door to be let in is beyond you.

he's a good man. you hate him for it.

maybe you just need sex. you've been deprived of your husband's body for so long that you're going stir crazy, in a sense. he did marry you with a vow of servitude, after all.

thank god for takuma and his wide eyes. he looks like a deer in headlights as he stands at your front door, a huge bag of toys and snacks and just-in-case diapers in one hand and your daughters tiny hand wrapped around two fingers of his other hand. she beams up at uncle ino, ready to spend a night away from home (and get unreasonably spoilt in the process).

"no snacks after her teeth are brushed. and she's developed a penchant for climbing—don't let her do that. and if she comes home with even a mark, ino, i will be breaking each and every last one of your bones, starting with the toes and moving upwards until i reach your—"

"i think he gets the point, love," you place a gentle hand on your husbands tense bicep. "please stop threatening to snap takuma's bones."

ino, who is probably going over his last will and testament in his head, forces a grin. "loud and clear, she's safe with me."

"mhm," your husband can only eye him for so long before your daughter is tugging uncle ino away and leaving the two of you in the foyer.

finally alone. just you, your husband, and his teething paranoia. he's darting to the front window and peeking through it like a yappy dog would as their owner leaves. it’s cute. you feel bad for the future-teenage version of your daughter, who will have to deal with a man like kento nanami as her father. but now she’s just a baby and in the safe (albeit shaky) care of uncle ino, and you are vying for an orgasm or six.

“ken, honey."

his eyes are stuck outside.

"kento."

still stuck. you never thought the other woman would be sporting butterfly clips and drool as a statement piece.

"oh my fucking god kento nanami if you do not fuck me right now i will take that little sword of yours and stick it so far up your— oh hi."

he's standing in front of you before you know it, with your face held firmly in his hands and an awfully stern look on his face.

"my love," he drags his thumb from your cheek, down to your bottom lip. "first of all, i have every intention of ravaging you until you're so full of me that you don't have the mind to beg for more. and second, it's more of a cleaver than a sword."

"okay nerd," you pull your man into a deep kiss, one much more intimate than you've been allowing yourself of late. kento takes the lead easily, slipping his tongue past your lips in a way he'd never dare to do over the breakfast table.

before you can register your movements, the two of you are stumbling like drunk teens up to your bedroom, a garment of clothing lost with each step to the door. you loosen your husbands tie and drop it to the ground, and he manages to unclasp your bra just as his back hits the bed and you're falling on top of him in a mess of gross kisses and shared laughter.

it's sweet, until kento tires of the homely teasing and flips you over to press his heavy body (and even heavier cock, it seems) against yourself. your legs part naturally, as they will ever do for the man you love, and kento trails kiss after kiss from your neck all the way down to the dripping mess of your cunt.

when he latches his lips to your clit you gasp and shoot your hand down to his hair. he loves it being pulled, admitted to you after a drink too many that he finds in degrading in a way that is only pleasurable coming from you: he's sensitive to that sort of stuff, so you tug lightly at his blond locks until your fingers snag against something hard.

"what's in your hair?" you manage between moans as ken savours his most favourite meal.

he pulls away for a second, resting his cheek against your parted (and already shaky) thigh as you comb through his hair with your fingers once more and pullout not one, but two hot pink butterfly clips that you were looking for only this morning.

"oh," your husband smiles when he sees them. "i got a princess makeover last night. i stopped her before she could go looking for makeup but she did manage to find those."

"they suit you," you smile, and clip them back into his hair. it look silly, but it keeps his hair from sticking to his forehead in the heat of things, so you look past the glitter. "you're a good dad, you know?"

kento presses a kiss to your clit, which has your breath hitch in your throat, before rising up to climb over you once again. his cock is heavy and pulsing with heat as it rests against you, but ken denies himself for a moment in favour of pressing a very sweet kiss to your lips. you can taste yourself on his smile.

"thank you for making me a dad," he kisses your cheek next, and then your forehead. "and thank you for everything else you have given me in our marriage."

"all those orgasms..." you muse, which earns you a small laugh from your lover.

"oh indeed," he reaches down and lines himself up with you. "you always know just how to set the mood. very sentimental, you are."

"it's what you married me for," you lift your hips a little to help your husband in. "isn't it? you just love the way i—oh god, ken."

he pushes into you niiice and slow, feeling the way you stretch around him. it's been a while, so the usual ache of accommodating his unfair size is more of a burn this time through, but kento's lips against your neck are a nice distraction. he's slow and sweet and so in love with you that you can feel it in the way he fills you up. or maybe you're just delusional from the dick.

"love the way you feel," he finishes your sentence. drawing his hips back only a little to get you used to his movements, he presses his next kiss to your shoulder. "love the way you look."

"you don't need to flatter me. you're already inside of me."

kento bites the skin of your shoulder and picks up the pace to really start fucking you. "love the way you can take a compliment without being a smartass about it."

"god, kento," you can only manage a few words before he's adjusting his thrusts to brush against your g spot with each movement in and out. "it's so much."

"i love how well you take me," he goes on. "i love your heart. and i love your body. and i love your idiotic jokes. and i love how you smell."

"ken..."

"and i love—" kento runs a hand down your left arm to take your hand in his, bringing your knuckles up to his lips before pressing a long kiss to your wedding band "—how i'm all yours."

not his, yours. he's made it very clear since your first date (which was more of a study-situation than anything, that he is all yours. your property. your lover. your shoulder to cry on and your life partner and the man who would burn down cities for you and your kid.

and the only man who could fill you this deep and still be romantic about it. he fucks you like that until your legs are locked around his waist and you're begging him to fill you up with his load.

and of course he obliges, because anything you ask for he will give you enthusiastically. he rubs your clit until you're blanking on your own name and cumming in beautiful synchronisation with him. kento spills deep inside of you with a breathy groan and even then still manages to fuck you through your orgasm until he's softening inside of you and you're trying ultra hard not to cry from the overwhelming love (and pleasure) you're feeling.

and as he holds himself over you, smiling down at you like he didn't just possibly breed you out again, all you can do is look up at him with teary eyes and laugh at the ridiculous pink butterfly clips on his head.

"you're so pretty," you giggle, reaching up between your sweaty bodies to tap on the clips. "my manly husband."

"god," he groans, dropping his head down to your chest. you laugh some more, now with an even better view of his accessories, until he steals your laughter altogether with a sharp bite to your nipple.

"ow, fuck! that is not how a princess behaves."

"you are going to be the death of me."

[swearimnevergivingup]

nanami kento doesn’t do casual (18+)

you should have known early on there was no such thing as just being friends with benefits with someone like nanami.

the discussion about the nature of your arrangement had happened almost clinically, the same way nanami does most things. there had been clear boundaries laid out, and the firm assurance of no expectations to complicate things. “just sex,” he’d said, “no feelings attached” — all while you tried your very best not to snicker childishly at the rather vulgar proposition coming out of his mouth, of all people.

sorcerers don’t exactly have the luxury of thinking very far into the future, so if someone like nanami kento wanted to blow off steam with you, who were you to deny him? honestly, you half expected him to produce a contract drafted by his lawyers for you to sign — complete with terms and conditions and maybe a special clause about punctuality thrown in. but there was nothing of the sort. you simply shook on it, and then several minutes later he was buried deep inside you with his mouth hot on your neck.

and at first, it really was “just sex”. if you count the fact that the most stoic, stone-faced colleague you knew was somehow hung like a horse and had the skills in bed to ruin every other man in the world for you. precision was built into the very core of nanami’s being, so it shouldn’t have surprised you that it even carried into the way he fucked you, every thrust angled to make your breath hitch, every touch exact and devastating.

it should have ended there. but one night over at his place turned into two, two turned into ten, and before you knew it he was handing you the keys to his apartment and your own set of fluffy house slippers to pad around in. you found yourself straightening his tie for him before heading out of the door together, and the passenger seat in his car was always reclined just how you liked it.

the realisation that you were playing house with a fuck buddy — and enjoying it, no less — hit you hard in the chest one morning when you opened his cupboard and found your favourite tea stockpiled on the first shelf. it was so ordinary, so incredibly mundane — and that’s precisely what shocked the smile right off your face. you weren’t staying over because his bed was bigger than yours. you weren’t wearing his shirts and nothing else under it because it was convenient.

no, you stupid idiot, the alarm bells ringing in your head seemed to scream. you’re in love with him.

the same realisation didn’t seem to hit nanami until three months into the arrangement. he sat up abruptly early one morning, your arm still draped heavily over his body, and shook you awake with a panic you had never quite seen before. his hair was mussed, his eyes wide like he’d just seen a ghost, and for a terrifying second you thought he might be about to end it.

“this was a mistake,” he blurted, dropping his head in his hands. you blinked blearily at him, heart sinking to the floor in a single instant. “wait—” he cleared his throat, voice steadying. “no. that came out wrong.”

then, he looked at you with the same eyes that always carried an unflinching earnestness, and with the same mouth that never once minced his words. the confession fell from his lips slowly, the realisation unfurling itself as he spoke.

“the mistake,” nanami muttered, more to himself than to you, “was thinking i could possibly do this without falling in love with you.”

your breath caught as he leaned in, heart pounding frantically in your chest, faster than anything his body had ever pulled from yours. then, his lips brushed yours, softer than any other kiss you’d shared before, and one shaky hand came up to cradle your jaw.

“and the other,” he whispered, voice breaking into something unbearably raw, “was taking so damn long to realise that.”

[swearimnevergivingup]

when did nanami kento get hot? (18+)

you almost don’t recognise him at first. the nanami kento you remember in high school was stiff, reserved, and sported an abomination of side-swept bangs paired with too much hair-gel. he was cute, sure, perhaps in that awkward, alternative kind of way that somehow managed to charm a girl like you in the first place. but hot? no, not like this.

now, standing across the room at your ten-year school reunion, he looks distinctly different. broader shoulders, a jawline that could cut glass, and a perfectly tailored suit that fits his impressive frame immaculately. the bangs are gone — his hair is slicked back now, a pair of glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time you find yourself wondering — when the hell did nanami kento get so hot?

“it’s been a while,” he says when he finally crosses the room over to you. his voice is deeper, richer now, and when your eyes meet you find yourself wondering if he looks at just anyone that way now, or if he’s also thinking about study dates, shy kisses to the cheek, and the budding romance that fizzled out when you both went off to different colleges.

you’re still struggling to wrap your head around his transformation when he fucks you hard against the wall of his hotel room later on. his hands are firm against your waist as he eases into you, stretching you in a way that steals the air from your lungs. every snap of his hips pins you tighter and tighter against the wall, and you don’t know why your heart still manages to flutter when his palm comes to cushion your forehead from hitting the plaster, shielding you from the impact even as he drives into you harder.

every thrust is precise, deliberate, merciless — but his hands stay tender and his mouth presses gentle kisses to your back. he whispers praise and filth into your ear that has your cunt clenching pathetically in response, and god, you’re begging for this man to ruin you before you even know what you’re saying. you’re cumming hard around his thick cock in no time, but he doesn’t let up until your legs are shaking and your voice has dissolved into incoherent babble.

you may hardly recognise the man he is now, but there’s one thing that still hasn’t changed about nanami: he’s a man who always knows what he wants. it’s been that way when he first asked you out all those years ago, and it seems like it’s still that way now, when he asks for your number and a chance to make up for lost time. you’re still flushed, struggling to catch your breath when he finally speaks.

“i’m sorry,” he rasps, and for the first time tonight he actually appears a little shy. “i didn’t exactly do this in the right order. can i take you out to dinner some time?”

[polaroidsex]

🜼 ⋆ doing nanami kento’s skincare whilst cockwarming him.

he’s already buried inside you by the time you open the jar.

his cock rests deep and heavy, unmoving, your walls soft and warm around him—clenching every so often without meaning to. not riding. not grinding. just sitting, your thighs snug around his hips, chest to chest, full in a way that makes your whole body ache.

nanami’s not even looking at you.

his eyes are closed. head leaned back against the headboard. one hand loose around your thigh, the other resting across his stomach. calm. quiet. pretending this isn’t killing him.

you dip your fingers into the cream.

“look at me.”

his eyes open immediately. obedient, steady, almost bored, except for the muscle twitching at the edge of his jaw.

you smooth a layer of moisturizer across the high slope of his cheekbone. slow and focused. like you’re not straddling him with his cock inside you. like this is just another part of your routine.

“your skin gets dry when you don’t let me do this.”

he exhales through his nose—measured, deliberate—but his cock twitches inside you. a slow, dangerous throb.

“you shifted,” he mutters, not opening his eyes.

“you’re imagining things.”

but you did. only a little. just enough to feel him drag along that tender inner wall. enough to make your breath hitch, to make your core clench helplessly around him again.

you swipe cream down the bridge of his nose, then across his jaw, all while seated deep on his lap. you’ve never felt so full, so stretched without movement. the weight of it. the heat of him. he’s not even hard anymore—not fully—but he hasn’t slipped out. hasn’t let himself soften, not even for a second.

he grunts when you reach for the folded sheet mask on the side table, lifting one hand off his chest for balance. the shift makes you clench again, and his hands tighten around your hips like a warning.

“you like being difficult,” he says flatly.

“you said i could do your skincare.”

“not like this.” kento hisses.

“you didn’t stop me.”

you smooth the cool sheet across his face, gentle and deliberate, pressing it into place with both palms. your fingers linger at the edge of his hairline. you’re sitting so close now your nose brushes his.

“hold still,” you whisper, like he’s the one misbehaving.

his cock pulses inside you again, slow and deep, and you fight the urge to move your hips, to rock on top of him, to take.

he’s so still. so composed. but you know how tight he’s holding onto it.

“ten minutes,” you say.

he doesn’t respond. just closes his eyes again, face beneath the mask unreadable.

you shift your hips to get comfortable, clenching around him as your muscles adjust.

he groans. softly.

but he doesn’t move.

he just presses one large hand flat against the small of your back—fingertips splayed wide, warm against your skin—and pulls you just a fraction deeper onto his cock.

“don’t squirm,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. “or you can wait twenty.”

[tetzoro]

WAVES OF PASSION — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. zoro roronoa !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after teasing each other all day, you and zoro finally come to a point. question is, who will cave first ?

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader, alcohol consumption, alcohol play, zoro and reader are a little tipsy (dubcon?), use pet names (baby, good girl), dry humping, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, unprotected sex, light impact play (slaps your ass once), light praise, creampie, lot of teasing, yall are both stubborn — WC : 3.7k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : a big thank u to nesi for listening to me scream about this for the last 3 days . and for coming up with the name :3 couldn’t have channeled my insanity for this man without her !! please enjoy !! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

the infamous game of cat and mouse. a push and pull. a tango you and zoro often take part in, dancing until your bodies flush together only to be torn away with a smug look, challenge simmering in the others eyes. 

both of you are too stubborn to give in to the other, leaving nothing but fleeting touches upon each other's skin and sinful words curling around your ears, dizzying your minds and driving you both up the wall. 

the tension drawing so thin it was bound to snap, it was only a matter of when.

“come lay your head in my lap, zo.” you call out to your lover who was mindlessly nursing a bottle of sake. the fact he hadn’t finished it yet floored you, but you can only assume that wasn’t his first.

“what? no.” zoro blushes a little, cheeks turning red from the booze and the way you coo’d at him. he looks around, watching everyone still partying on the sunny, paying you both no mind as you’re tucked further away from them now. 

the party started hours ago, luffy insisting that it was time to celebrate their latest victory. everyone was having a good time but as time chipped away, all you could do was reach for the love of your life, yearning for his attention. 

“c’mon.” you whine, still tasting the alcohol you had earlier on your tongue. an idea pops into your head and you can’t help but smirk, moving your body so you were sitting up straight. “baby, let’s drink together.”

it never failed to make you smile whenever you called zoro ‘baby’. the way his ears would perk up before the tips dusted pink, his attention fully on you even if he wasn’t directly looking.

“thought you’d never ask.” he gives a half smile, bringing his sake bottle towards you. you pat your lap, insinuating what you had asked of him earlier. “i’m not gonna do that.”

“please?” you bat your eyelashes at him. a cruel act on your part. zoro would like to believe that he wouldn’t fall for your little vixen tricks, but the alcohol swirled in his mind, body already aching to touch you. 

“fine.” he huffs, sitting down on the floor and pressing his back against your legs, head hesitantly resting on your lap. “now what?”

“give me your sake bottle.” you hold out your hand, the other weaving through his soft green locks, lightly scratching his head in a way that had him fluttering his eye shut.

“no way.” he clutched onto the damned thing more, leaning his head up for a moment to take a swig. but you’re quick, snatching it from his hands. “OI!”

“lay back down.” you say, almost amused by the irritation in his gaze. whatever he was thinking he decided to bite it back down, muttering under his breath before resting his head back on your lap. “now, open your mouth.”

“the hell do you want from me, woman?” zoro huffed, but ultimately obliged. no matter how hard he tried, he could never say no to you.

“keep it open, i’m gonna pour some in.” after a moment, he felt sake pour onto his tongue. on instinct, he started swallowing it down while you waterfalled it into his mouth, your other hand still woven in his hair.

you pull back, knowing he could take more — and probably wanted to — but you needed to see his reaction, see how much he enjoyed it.

and you weren’t disappointed.

“why’d you stop?” his head lays firmly in your lap now, only moving it slightly so he can look up at you. 

“oh, so you liked it?” you tease, trying to draw the confession out of him.

“a weird way to drink but sake is sake.” he shrugs.

“oh come on.” you roll your eyes, moving to rest the bottle on the bench beside you. but zoro’s hand snaps up, lightly wrapping around your wrist before you can set it down.

“i didn’t say stop.” zoro says before expectedly opening his mouth. 

“only if you say you like it.” you push, bottle hovering, the liquid almost slipping out of the top and into his awaiting mouth — he can almost taste it. frustration glosses over him for a moment but he knew what he had to do to get what he wanted.

“fine, i like it.” you hum knowingly at him, the sake fell from the bottle and into his mouth, drinking another gulp of it. this time, you don’t stop.

the liquid flows from the sides of his mouth, running down his neck and along his bare, heaving chest. you watch it weave and pool between his taut muscles, licking your lips as it streams down over his perked nipple.

it’s distracting, the way his body looks paired with the soft grunts he was making as he chugs has your already altered mind spinning. he looked good.

“damn woman, you trying to kill me?” zoro asks. you didn’t realize he swiped the bottle back, breathing heavily, lustful gaze set onto you. he rises up, towering over where you were still seated.

“oh, suddenly you can’t handle your liquor?” you poke, trying to gulp down your own desires. but it was impossible with the way he was looking down at you, prey set in the predators eyes. he just scoffs, small smirk taking up his face. 

“you’re always running that mouth of yours.” he grins, pulling you up off your feet. “better find a better use for it.”

in the little area you and zoro had taken residence, it was tucked away enough for you to steal some of his affection. normally, he wasn’t big on PDA but nights like these he was a little more lenient with a little bit of alcohol running through his veins, coated in the lust he held for you.

so you take a leap, stepping closer so your bodies pressed up against each other, tongue poking out as you lick up the sake still running along his throat. he all but gasps, your boldness taking him off guard. you stop at his collarbone, pressing a light kiss onto it.

“like that?” you purr, looking up at him again, mischief swimming in your eyes. a look he loved to extinguish before morphing them into stars as he has his way with you.

“little minx.” he breathes out, his voice so deep you feel it buzz against your skin. “let’s go.”

“go where?” you tilt your head, trying to play coy. he wasn’t having any of that, not now. he quickly tosses you over his shoulder, ignoring the way you squeaked at him, opting to give your ass a light tap instead.

“somewhere where you can finish cleaning the mess you made.” he starts walking, grabbing another sake bottle as he passes one. “and then i’d like to try that little game on you next.”

the two of you ended up in the crows nest, far removed from everyone else. zoro liked it up here anyway, one of his favorite spots on the ship. 

the moonlight filters through the windows and pools into the room, casting its soft glow over everything in sight. you watch as it trails along the surface of the benches, illuminating off of the workout equipment zoro left behind from earlier. you couldn’t help but walk towards the window, hoping to get a peek at the moon itself, but a voice cuts through the air interrupting your little plan.

“come here.” he demands, putting the bottle of sake down with a thump. you whirl around, amusement dancing in your irises. you don’t make any movement to obey, opting to stay put instead. 

with a sigh, zoro stalks towards you, a dangerous look in his eye before he crashes his lips against yours. the ferocity behind it causes a moan to slip past, only making it worse — zoro’s fingers digging into your hips. 

he doesn’t let up, air be damned as he continues to kiss you.

“you drive me crazy.” zoro groans loudly into the kiss, sitting back onto the bench, trying to pull you with him. you pull apart, teasing smirk on your lips as his mouth chases yours.

“quiet, zoro. don’t want anyone to hear you.” you graze your thumb over his tender, swollen lips, watching him with half-lidded eyes – an expression he easily mirrors back. lust filled eyes share a moment before something snaps in him – the fog clearing in his mind as he processes the tone of your voice. but you just kept running that sweet mouth of yours. “unless you want everyone to hear how much you like when i —.”

“enough.” his lips are on yours again, kissing you with a bruising force as his hands freely roam around your body, squeezing along it as he goes. you drown under the ministrations, his demanding aura easily overtaking yours as an aching need starts to settle in between your thighs.

the kiss only grows more heated with each passing moment – the tension long since dissolving into the room making everything sticky with desire. zoro effortlessly pulls you down into his lap now, not missing a beat as his lips continue to glide over yours, tongues swirling together as he gets drunk on your touch.

the strap from your dress falls to your shoulders, zoro taking the opportunity to smother the area with his lips, exaggerated kisses along the bare skin, licking his way back up your neck.

“taste s’good.” his voice is rough, coarse – similar to the way the seas would get when they’re trying to pull the sunny into their tide. but you weren't as resilient as your beloved ship, surrendering into the whims of the man before you, letting him have his way with you as long as he kept talking to you like you were the most treasured thing in his world.

need pulses through his length as it presses up against your core, begging to be free from its confines. his hips stutter up, chasing the sensation, craving it in ways he can only feel when he’s under your spell. it’s not enough, he needs more. as if you could read his mind, you start to slowly grind against his length, the thin underwear you had on left nothing to his imagination, he could feel how wet you were for him already.

large palms slide up over your chest, fingers trailing over the flimsy fabric that covered them, easily yanking down your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he continues onward, kissing back down your neck and over your collarbones – making sure to coat you in his sake infused saliva.

it only gave him an idea when he finally reached your breasts, wrapping his mouth around your nipple, groaning with satisfaction as he satiated his oral fixation for a moment. eye flashing over to the sake bottle he had put down earlier. one hand pushes down on your hip so you can control your pace, the other reaches for it, clasping around it and bringing it towards you.

“you made a mess earlier.” he says lowly, tongue poking out to trace along the edges your perked bud. “told you i was going to return the favor.”

the chill of sake runs over your skin, trailing down your neck to your chest, following the heated trail that zoro had set before it. his tongue easily chases upward, lapping up every drop before it could splash down to your waist and stain your pretty dress. 

“zoro!” you gasp out, fingers quickly finding purchase in his hair as his mouth returns to your breasts. “it’s cold.”

“yeah?” he takes a swig from the bottle before bringing it up to your lips so you can steal a sip. the liquid runs down your throat, his eye trained on the way it constricts when you swallow. “what do you want me to do about it?”

the question was a statement in disguise, another way for him to challenge you. but your resolve was weak, need bubbling up and spilling over your whole body in a tremor. zoro only grows impatient, missing the friction of you moving along his body. his hands grip your waist again, encouraging you to keep going.

“c’mon.” you tug on his shoulders, trying to bring him even closer. but it wasn’t enough – wasn’t going to be enough until he was deep inside of you, giving you exactly what you needed right now. he knew by the whine in your voice what you wanted, but he had enough of your teasing for the night. it was time for you to grovel, to play the fool begging for his touch, prey caught in the claws of its predator.

“what?” zoro asks, hands running up behind your back. he was too good at playing stupid sometimes, coming off as a brute who didn't know how to read people when in fact it was the exact opposite. weeks of getting to know you intimately burned into his mind, studying your reactions when he’d touch you in a certain way, kiss you a certain way. all of it stored behind the steely gaze he sets on the world. “you didn’t answer my question.”

everything in you screams not to fall into his trap, to feed into the game you’ve been playing all day. but your resolve was cracking down the middle with each passing moment, and you knew his had to be too.

zoro slips off his bottoms as you eagerly brush his opened robe off his shoulders, palms gliding over his taut muscles that ripple under your touch, shuddering at the soothing sensation. the dress remains pooled at your hips but zoro easily rids you of your panties, fingers pressing against your slick folds.

but two can play that game. you reach for his cock, watching droplets of precum pool at the top before rubbing it along his tip. he jerks into your hand with a strangled moan of your name, finger slipping into you in the process. you gasp out at the welcomed intrusion, hips moving on their own accord as you seek more friction.

slowly pumping your fist over his cock, you don’t break eye contact with him. he adds another finger, the sound of your sopping cunt filling the room. zoro presses his lips against yours before you twist your wrist the way he likes it — mouth hanging open as he lets out a guttural groan.

you push him back so he’s flush against the wall, sliding yourself so you're seated over his cock, arousal coating his length. you both groan at the contact, so close to what you both desire but still not close enough – neither ready to fully cave in yet, secretly begging the other to make the first move.

but you know his weakness, pressing a kiss along his jaw, moving up until your nose lightly brushes against his earrings, working your hips back and forth to make sure his cock was fully saturated in your essence.

zoro was squirming beneath you, his grip on your hips so tight you're sure it’ll bruise tomorrow, but it’s all worth it if you get him to crack. groans dripping from his lips sweeter than anything you’ve ever heard before.

“that all you got?” he rasps out, not knowing how much he’ll come to regret those words. you just give him one of your saccharine smiles. the man may have never been a fan of sweets but he’d fall for that grin anytime, absolutely mystified at how easy it is for him to fall under your spell.

“see that?” you tease, rubbing your slick folds over his cock head. he couldn’t help but thrust a bit, the sensation too overwhelming. “watch closely, watch your cock disappear.”

“you a magician now or —.” zoro starts, cutting himself off with a loud groan as you slowly slid down into him and sure enough, his cock started to disappear in you. 

“feel good?” your palms spread across his chests, fingers barely brushing along his nipple that has him arching his back slightly — the sensitivity rippling through him.

he ignores you, trying to thrust his hips up, gain friction, do something to chase the feeling that was currently simmering just beyond his grasp.

“no, if you want this then we’re gonna do it my way.” zoro's cock is fully seated in you, but you haven’t let him move yet. you weren’t planning on it either. “you don’t get to make the rules.”

“shut up.” he barks, trying to wiggle free so he can pound into you like his instincts are begging him to. you can tell he’s frustrated, his pride nipping at him. he doesn’t lack the strength to flip you but he still hasn’t made his move yet.

“what do you want zoro?” you tease, digging your nails into his torso and lightly dragging them all the way down before pressing them into his hip. he hissed at the sting, hips stuttering as it chases friction. “you need to learn how to use your words.”

zoro doesn’t like that, finally lifting you off of him and pivoting you around so your knees are on the bench, hands gripping the back of them as you’re finally able to look out the window. 

the moon was hung up just where you thought it would be, but the moment was short lived, a small but stern tap on your ass brought you back to what was at stake.

“fuck that,” he growls in your ear, biting against the lobe before standing up straight and pulling his hips back so his tip is prodding your entrance once again. the loss was monumental and now you were the one squirming for more. “now look at who the desperate one is.”

“so you admit you were desperate for me?” your breathless laugh turns into a moan as his cock runs along your folds, collecting more of your essence, dragging it all out even more than before.

“never said that.” he grumbled, lining himself up at your entrance once again, ready to sink back into you and give into his carnal desires. he just needs to hear you ask for it first.

zoro holds his breath as he watches your body shiver in anticipation before pushing in, not giving you anymore that just a taste.

he pulls back out, watching as his tip glistens with your essence.

“zoro.” you clench your jaw, nails digging into the bench. the world stops for a moment as it waits for your call, the one that will finally give you what you want. one word, six letters. “please.”

he lets out a breathy chuckle, sinks all the way inside of you, bottoming out even deeper than before, moaning in unison. the swordsman doesn’t waste another second before slamming back into you, setting a steady pace as all inhibitions cast away.

“you’re so fucking stubborn.” he grits out, each word paired with a deep thrust. “you know that?”

“me?” you gasp out, walls fluttering around him, clenching against him so tightly. “you’re the stubborn one.”

zoro just grunts out, gripping onto your hips as he chases his end. all day you’ve been teasing him — the lingering touches on his shoulders, the soft, breathy giggles you’d let out by his ear, chills coating his skin.

and now he finally has you where he wants you, under him and taking him like the good girl you are.

his fingers dance along your clit, electricity rushing throughout your body, running along each of your nerves before bursting at the ends. 

zoro couldn’t stop pounding into you, his cock pulsing with desire, anchoring his hands on your hips and using it to guide you back to him.  

“yeah, just like that.” zoro groaned out, his fingertips digging deeper into your hips as he watches you begin to take over, fucking yourself back onto his cock. the sight of your cunt enveloping his cock will never fail to make his head spin. 

“close—“ it’s the only word you can spit out right now, letting him know you’re almost there, right at the edge. the side of your face is firmly pressed onto the bench while zoro's pace never lets up. in fact, you think you can feel him go faster — deeper.

“go ahead and let go for me then.” one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you up so your back is flush against his back. the shift brought you over the edge, throwing your head back against him as you let out a moan of his name. “good girl, good fucking girl.”

as you come down, he speeds up, chasing the release he’s been staving off. after a few more precise strokes, he shoves himself as deeply as possible, filling you up with a low grunt of your name.

you fall limp against him, head resting on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath. zoro wasn’t fairing much better, you could feel the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, heart hammering against your back. 

he slowly sets you down, legs shaking as soon as you touch down, leaning onto him to keep you steady — a job he’d do time after time, pride swelling in his chest everytime.

zoro wasn’t always the best with words after the two of you finished, instead he found unspoken reassurance easier. his large hand cradles your face, a soft expression coating his features as he searches your eyes.

he could read you fairly easily, know when something was amiss. his shoulders sag as he finds only adoration in your eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“pretty baby.” the words so hushed you almost miss it, heat flushing to your cheeks at the soft praise. the two of you stand in each other's arms for awhile, your head opting to rest on his chest while you simmer down.

“we should probably head back down.” you sigh, breaking the silence, knowing it’s only a matter of time before luffy starts looking for you guys. you quickly slip the straps to your dress back over your shoulders.

zoro nods, but his gaze was set on your thighs, watching your mixed cum slowly drip down between them, the substance glistening in the moonlight. his cheeks were dusted red, mouth hanging open as he takes in the sight.

“or.” he says, fingers catching the mixture before sliding it back up into its proper place. you gasp as he shoves it back in, attention now set on you. “we could stay up here a little longer. we still have that bottle to finish and i’m definitely not done with you yet.”

thank you for reading :3

tags : @honeybleed @heart-of-trafalgar @astroelbow @eelnoise @kakashineedstotouchgrass @teffyx @latinokokonoi @sleepymarimo @lovethecoffeemom-blog @marimogf @kkittycries @oonlykooii @satorena @stuckinthewrongworld @kentopedia @agentofkrypton @7smexy7diva @bijuu-naginata @deluluforcarlos55 @zorosprincess ᰔ

[zorogasm]

Enemies to lovers forced proximity yakuza zoro and yakuza prince sanji idk am i crazy

[8balldoodles]

@yamanaiuta HAPPY HOLIDAYS i was also YOUR secret santa for the #zosanclubss hahah

I adored your prompt of prince 4 prince and ended up going very swan princess because it was my favorite childhood movie :0

I hope you had a lovely holiday and enjoy your gift

[8balldoodles]

Ahhh the little princes i love them very much

[8balldoodles]

When large dogs forget they’re large dogs and want to lap sit

[8balldoodles]

When large dogs forget they’re large dogs and want to lap sit

[8balldoodles]

While you were studying the blade she was also studying the blade but with women involved

[noraschweeps]

summer is coming ☀️