A/N: Nani Pelekai is criminally fine. Maybe you feel the same. Or maybe you don't. But if you do, if you just so happen to share my fascination then sit back, relax, and enjoy:

That's Not What I Said

Stitch was watching her intently from just around the corner, his excitable eyes zeroing in on the voluptuous figure of his current caretaker, Nani Pelekai. She was busy making lunch, he could tell by the apron tied around her waist, and also by the very obvious scent of lasagna perforating the air. His elongated ears were treated to the wonderful hymn of her voice as she hummed a little here, sang a little there, her words soft and melodic.

And she was dancing. Ever so slightly, Nani was moving across the kitchen floor, gently swaying her hips, moving her arms to the beat she hummed, which was growing awfully familiar the longer Stitch listened. As Nani performed a graceful twirl on her toes, Stitch realized she was humming the same song that Lilo had once danced to with the rest of her class. The same class wherein she knocked the glasses off this one girl who made fun of her.

Stitch still laughed about to this day.

There was a reason Lilo wasn't here, why she hadn't been home for the past couple of days now, and as far back as Stitch cared to remember, it had something to do with a school field trip to one of the states. Beyond that was a blur, not that Stitch didn't know—because his memory retention was literally otherworldly—but he was far too busy concentrating on the woman in front of him, the one still dancing, oblivious to his presence.

Her exquisitely tanned skinned was glistening under the kitchen light, both naturally and because of the fine layer of sweat she had worked up during her dance. Watching her was a treat for Stitch, it was rare he caught her in such a carefree state as her usual demeanor normally consisted of being about two stringent warnings away from beating the tan off her sister. In the most loving way possible, of course. And while Stitch cherished Lilo more than his own life and would happily obliterate anything that crossed her path in the wrong light, he was glad for these moments where Nani could find some peace, some relaxation.

Because Stitch felt another kind of love altogether for the dancing Hawaiian goddess, the kind that made the fur around his cheeks burn a bright red; the kind that short-circuited his respiratory system; the kind that made this alien from another world so thankful he had crash landed on this planet.

The stove timer went off and Nani paused mid-twirl, one leg aloft, and bent backwards to tap the alarm button. "And noooow, the moment you've all been waiting for," she said to an empty kitchen, righting herself and slipping on an oven mitt. "Let's see if the great Nani P. still has what it takes to make her fabled "Lazzy Lasagna.""

It was a pretty stupid name, Stitch figured, but it was the name that Lilo had dubbed the dish with, so of course it stuck, and as he took a few more controlled sniffs of the air, there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Nani's skill in the kitchen hadn't moved a single iota in the proper direction. The sins she committed when cobbling ingredients together warranted some kind of sentencing but, thankfully, there was something else of an actual edible nature in the kitchen.

Her ass.

Dressed in a blue top that exposed her tone belly and a pair of frayed jean shorts, when Nani bent over, Stitch was treated to an unobscured view of her rear. Subconsciously, his eyes flashed from their rudimentary black shade to emerald, enabling his x-ray vision and allowing him to see through the flimsy fabric of her jeans to the bright pink pair of panties worn underneath. Those precious undergarments were stretched tight against the twin mounds of Nani's cheeks to the point where he could make out the tantalizing divide between them and Stitch, gripping the doorway so hard that it cracked, let loose an unruly amount of drool.

It didn't take long for Stitch to notice that Nani was indeed a woman. For so long he had considered her this tall, sturdy tree of rage and love, mostly rage—but during the times when Lilo was away and she was able to unwind, Stitch liked to watch her, and as he watched, he noticed several things about this Hawaiian queen. He took note that she used to be a very accomplished surfer, that she had this strange addiction to chocolate that she tried to hide from Lilo (probably for fear of ridicule), that she seemed to hate shirts that covered her stomach, and finally, perhaps the most important observation where Stitch was concerned, the fact that Nani had a body that practically screamed for someone to put a baby in her.

Her face wasn't the typical kind of beauty that Stitch saw on the faces of models in those magazines he stole from the stands every now and then, no, Nani had very comforting, angelic features, soft and caring, a face that carried it's own personal brand of pretty that Stitch felt far outstripped those vapid magazine females. Her body didn't match their's either; she didn't possess their statuesque figure, and for that Stitch was grateful. He greatly preferred the athleticism of Nani's form, how her thighs, so thick and soft, held no gap, how her wide hips gave her this coke bottle shape, and that was even before one could lay eyes on that ass, so perfectly rounded and wobbling and malleable like pudding and—

"STITCH! Get your furry little butt out here—it's lunch time!" Nani shouted with trace amounts of annoyance, almost like she were prepping herself for whatever weird thing her resident alien was sure to do when he arrived.

So when Stitch tripped over absolutely nothing, landing noisily on his chin in the kitchen doorway, Nani merely stared down at him with an incredulous glint, tilting her hips with her arms crossed.

"That was… quick," she noted, narrowing her eyes with further suspicion, "almost too quick, actually." With reflexes honed over years of snatching Lilo up by the scruff of her shirt, Nani whipped out a spatula and pointed it at Stitch as he climbed back to his feet, nostrils flaring like a canine's. "Out with it, alien intruder—how'd you get here so fast? Were you…" She took a bracing step forward. "You weren't spying on me, were you?"

Stitch dug up his nose for a few seconds, eyeing Nani and the way she brandished her spatula like a sword, and easily envisioned at least ten different ways to disarm the cute Hawaiian queen that would leave her face down and ass up on the floor. And as tantalizing as the idea was, he only shook his head.

"I was staring at your butt wishing you'd sit on my face," he told her, pulling his claw free of his nostril with a comedic popping sound.

Still looking dubious, Nani sighed and tossed her makeshift weapon into the sink. "Whatever, whatever, you and your alien speak," she huffed, turning toward the two plates she had pulled out. "I bet you'd already smelled the food, huh?"

"That's not what I said," Stitch spoke evenly, already knowing that his words were coming out in the same rushed gibberish that Nani couldn't parse.

"Right, it's Lazzy Lasagna," Nani told him, producing a very beautiful smile aimed at her perfectly foul-tasting confection as she spooned some out. When Stitch scurried over to her side, sniffing boisterously, she patiently rolled her eyes and bent over to pet him between the ears. "I know, I know, you smell one of your favorite dishes—"

"Actually, your food tastes like the backend of something that died and doesn't know it's dead yet. What I really smell is the thick scent of your womanhood… You've been dancing around so much that it's worked up a nice sweat and it smells really tasty," Stitch replied, feverishly licking his lips.

"Right, but just so we're clear, I didn't make it for you," Nani continued with a haughty grin, "I made it because I wanted lasagna, you get me? It's for me, not you… buuuut," she added, dragging the word out playfully, "being the benevolent soul that I am, I figure I can share if you ask really nicely."

"Share?" Looking perplexed, Stitch tilted his head ever so slightly to the side when Nani turned around, leaning forward and teasingly waving a plate full of steaming lasagna in front of him. "You can keep your death lasagna, I want you to share that ass!" he shouted excitedly, making grabby hands at his tanned object of affection. "I'd much rather have you sit on my face until my lungs stopped working—can I have that instead?"

Now Nani looked thoroughly pleased with Stitch's desperate motions, with the way he continued to gab away in the manic gibberish. She could tell he really appreciated her cooking. "Alright, okay, I can see that you're head over heels with my lasagna—"

"—can you flip that ass head over heels onto my face?"

"—so here you go," she told him magnanimously, setting the plate down in front of the little experiment gone wrong. When Stitch didn't immediately begin to eat like a starved hyena being teased by a rabbit shaking its fluffy tail in front of its face, Nani placed both hands on her rather large hips and cocked an eyebrow. "Well? Aren't you hungry?"

Of course Stitch was hungry, he was hungry pretty much around the clock, but he didn't feel like choking down that Lazzy Lasagna and spending the next half hour in horrible agony as his digestive system tried to make heads or tails of it. In short, it wasn't what he wanted to eat right now. He wanted to taste the Hawaiian goddess leering down at him, who was tapping her foot quite impatiently.

Stitch felt his chest tighten. The look on Nani's face, that amalgam of stern confusion and annoyance, he found it utterly intoxicating. Almost as quickly as realizing Nani was indeed a woman, it didn't take long for Stitch to inwardly admit he was infatuated with this tanned vixen, that there was virtually no way she could treat him that his beseeched mind wouldn't twist into some show of affection. Even when she screamed at him to go away (after he had licked at her ankles for the tenth time, or right after she had caught him sleeping in her underwear drawer) it only served to tighten the hold she unknowingly had over his heart.

Hell, if Stitch didn't know any better, based off the way Nani regularly treated him, he would swear he was some kind of masochist, and if he was, then he could solely lay that budding kink at the feet of his creator.

"I love you, you know," he told her before scooping up two pawfuls of lasagna and shoveling it into his maw. "Otherwise I wouldn't touch this heated up sludge."

"You're welcome," Nani proudly responded in kind.

It was endearing to Stitch to know that even when Nani called him a "big-mouthed black hole with the table manners of a down-syndrome afflicted hippo" she still enjoyed his voracious display when attacking whatever she cooked for him. He just figured it was her feminine side exposing itself, the side that Nani rarely let slip. On this planet, Stitch came to understand that the women naturally possessed the instinct to nurture, to shield and help grow, and so such talents shined, however begrudgingly, through Nani in moments like this.

Except food wasn't the kind of nurturing Stitch wanted from her….

"H-hey! Stitch—c'mon now!"

Startled back to the present, Stitch paused mid-chew, glancing up to see Nani, still standing there, except now she was beaming him with the most dazzling scowl he had ever the pleasure to receive. As his gaze slid down, over her tightly crossed arms and lingering slightly longer than necessary on her tone stomach, Stitch saw the rather large splotch of lasagna staining her shorts.

At first, he blinked. Then realization hit that he must have accidentally flung some while lost in thought earlier. He did tend to get messy when unfocused….

When those long ears fell back submissively and he started twiddling his fingers, Stitch looked every bit the picture of apologetic. "Meega soka," he uttered sheepishly.

There wasn't much in Stitch's garbled up alien tongue that Nani could parse into something understandable, but because Stitch was such best friends with causing trouble, he frequently repeated the phrase 'meega soka' whenever he was caught or reprimanded, so Nani took that to mean he was trying to apologize.

She sucked her teeth, fiddling with the button of her shorts. "Tch, it's fine, you little monster, it's fine… these were my favorites though," she huffed, pulling down the zipper.

Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl for Stitch as he watched Nani wiggle side to side, struggling to push her shorts down past those childrearing hips. Stitch had to grip his chest. Nani's soft grunts of enervation were the most sexiest thing he had ever heard, followed by that sigh of relief when she finally got them down to her thighs. Then something pulled sharply at Stitch's groin when that sun-kissed beauty lifted her arms and began to belly-dance where she stood; it was this sensual little sashay of the hips that helped slide her shorts the rest of the way down, hands-free.

She was… having fun.

Having fun while Stitch struggled to remain conscious.

One foot at a time, Nani gently stepped out of her stained shorts, hefting them with an annoyed pout at the pasty red mess over the front. "This stain better come out, fuzzball, or you can kiss my Lazzy Lasagna goodbye forever," she said menacingly, but unfortunately, Nani's comical threat went by wholly unnoticed because Stitch had zoned out halfway into her struggle to undress.

Without even realizing it, he had fallen back against the wall, one paw still clutching at his chest as though he were suffering a heart attack. He stared at the half-naked woman before him, taking in everything from her alluring, curvaceous physique to the way her pink satin panties were on full display; his nostrils flared, all but snorting the overpowering scent wafting from between her legs, that dense, overly feminine musk that set fire to Stitch's brain and caused his legs to wobble.

"Hey," Nani called, yet she sounded miles away, her voice barely managing to penetrate the daze her mere presence had knocked Stitch into. "Hey, Mr. Messy, pay attention when I'm talking to you…"

She took a step toward him. Her thighs rubbed against each other with such a tasteful swishing noise that Stitch momentarily forgot how to breathe. Nani cocked a brow, not quite sure why Stitch looked like he had seen a ghost, and she glanced around, wondering if she had missed something, wholly unaware that every single motion she went through caused her hips to sway in tune. It was almost too much for Stitch to bear and he gripped wall behind him harder, his nails digging deep into the wood.

Figuring it was just Stitch being his normal goofy self, Nani rolled her eyes and huffed. "Hey," she called, snapping her fingers, and when Stitch twitched, she took that to mean he was at least listening, even if his eyes remained fixed at a point just below her waist. "I'm gonna go find a new set of shorts since you've ruined these and while I'm gone here's what you're gonna do…."

When she paused, and so gently at that, Stitch was forced back to the present in time to watch as Nani closed the distance between them with those lithe steps of hers. The smell of her was enormous, a heady twang of sweat and her natural pheromones mixing together to form a mouth-watering cocktail of scents that had Stitch about to hyperventilate. Oblivious to the torture she was subjecting her alien roommate with, Nani courteously dropped to her knees, fixing him with a surprisingly teasing smile.

"You, my little furball friend… are tasked to wash these," she told him serenely, and without warning, Nani's shorts fell over Stitch's head. "That's the least you can do after I spent those long, long hours slaving over a stove to feed your bottomless stomach."

It was kind of funny to hear Nani talk about the long, long hours she had spent preparing him food when she initially said she had cooked it for herself—Jumba above, he loved her attitude so much, she was so cute—but there wasn't much time for him to call her out on it because the moment those warm shorts obscured his vision, the moment when the smell embedded in every single one of those threads struck his nose with all the force of a sledgehammer was the same instant Stitch's cognitive skills died.

Along with his ability to stand.

So when he fell over with a rigid thud, looking very much like a taxidermy version of himself, there was little Nani could do but stare down at him, both eyes wide.

"Um… are you okay?" she asked, using a single finger to prod him in the cheek.

Unbeknownst to his tanned queen, Stitch's new position, namely being laid out rigor mortis style on the floor, gave him a clear view between her thighs and he drank in the glittering sight of her panties. They way they hugged against her so tightly outlined her special place with a delicious clarity, so much so that Stitch subconsciously licked his lips.

"Look here, you freak, I'm gonna need you not to drool on my floor," Nani chastised, frowning at the little alien's antics. "You might've forgotten, since you have the memory retention of a flea, but you ate the mop last week."

"My memory spans back to the moment I was born," Stitch told her in garbled tones, remaining ever motionless, "and the sight of your panties is going to stick with me until I die…."

"No, don't try to blame that dog that comes around sometimes, I know it was you," Nani retorted, hearing a wholly different response in her head.

"That's not even close to what I said," Stitch said, beginning to grow lightheaded off her bittersweet scent. Not that it was enough to deter his doggish sniffing, it was just something he noticed on the peripheral of his thought process. "Before you go find another pair of shorts, can you scoot forward just a little bit? I really wanna see if I can get my head caught between your th—"

The rest of Stitch's alien speak came out as a jumbled mess when Nani suddenly stood, snatching her shorts off his head and swiftly replacing them with her foot. The pressure kept Stitch pinned to the hardwood floor, and under any normal circumstance, whatever was crushing him would have been reduced to rinds by now, but he found an ungodly amount of pleasure in being under Nani's foot.

She wasn't wearing any socks either, her bare flesh was mashed against his face; he could feel the entire shape of her elegant foot, from the smoothness of her arch all the way up to the toes squeezing around his bulbous nose. They were so soft, and extremely fragrant, coated with an amalgam of whatever body lotion she had previously used and the sweat she had worked up dancing earlier.

"So you're saying it wasn't you?" Nani demanded, glaring down at the alien trapped under her foot. "Don't think I'm stupid, you little blue nuisance—"

"I don't think you're stupid at all," Stitch struggled to get out with the heel of her foot crushing his lips, "but I can promise you I'm gonna explode if you don't get your foot off me!"

"Uh-huh, surrrrre," Nani muttered, dragging out the last word derisively. "A likely story, Mr. Stitch, but you see, I'm not one to fall so easily to the lies of an alien tongue." She brandished her shorts, dangling them on high while scrunching her dainty little toes over Stitch's face. "You're still going to wash this, get me?"

Control was something Stitch never really had a firm grasp on—control over his actions, over his mouth, over his impulses, over his instincts, he lacked in every area where control was concerned, and this was no different—so when his tongue darted from between his lips and began lashing about under Nani's foot, he reasoned there was nobody to blame for this but her.

His Hawaiian goddess.

"W-what in the… whoa—hey, hey, what're you doing?" Stitch heard Nani ask and he heard the disgust in her voice, felt when she tried to pull her foot free, but Stitch was quicker and gripped her ankle with both paws to keep her still. "W-wait, Stitch, that's…."

Whatever Nani had been trying to say, she never got out amidst the sudden moan that left her lips, surprising even herself and she slapped a hand to her mouth as Stitch's tongue expertly wound itself around her toes, slinking in between each one with a pleasurable deftness that sent shivers up her spine and caused her cheeks to flush.

"You… you perverted alien f-fuzzball," Nani managed to get out, smirking with a taunting flare, flinching whenever Stitch's tongue struck a particularly sensitive spot. Her toes scrunched; she couldn't believe this was happening, that Stitch was actually licking her foot… and so lovingly at that, his motions were almost sensual with the way his tongue moved, gliding and sliding over the balls of her feet. "You're really enjoying this…."

Clearly that was just an observation on Nani's part so Stitch saw no need to respond, only lowering his ears and continuing to shower her foot with masterfully placed strokes of his tongue. He enjoyed whenever the woman standing over him gasped, or whenever a hitched groan escaped; it was all music to his ears and worked to bring more out of her.

If someone had told Nani that her day would consist of watching as an alien from outer space found an addiction in kissing all over her foot, she would have called them crazy… but there she was, trying to keep her balance while an alien from outer space made oral love to one of the most sensitive spots on her body.

"Does it…" she started with uncertainty, giving an awkward shrug, "my foot doesn't smell or anything?"

What a very weird question to ask, Stitch figured. Did her foot smell? Of course it did. It was rich with her pheromones, enhanced by the energy of her dance routine. Probably to anyone else, that would be considered gross, but to Stitch and his acute sense of smell, there was only nirvana to be found with every desperate inhale.

"I guess not… or maybe not in a bad way," Nani surmised when Stitch didn't respond verbally, but rather with an uptick in the intensity of his licking. She winced, inhaling sharply. "E-even between my toes, though…? That can't… it can't be good there—"

Oh, but it could, and Stitch showed her as much by lovingly tracing the underside of her toes with the tip of his slick, pink muscle. The reaction that Stitch's work garnered, namely the breathless gasp that got lost amidst Nani's fingers, was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"You are such a nasty little—unngh… suh-such a pervert," Nani admonished, though she made no more gestures to reclaim her foot, or to even dissuade Stitch from his worship. She stared down at him, those long black tresses flowing over her neck, and he stared back up at her with the one eye that wasn't hidden under her foot.

Wait a minute….That look adorning her face, that flushed yet indulgent expression….

She couldn't have figured it out… could she?

Everything ground to a standstill when Nani blinked. Because that was in no way a normal blink. It was a slow, methodical blink, and Stitch knew what that meant. It meant the cat was out of the bag. The gears in her head were turning, numbers were adding up, previously unexplainable moments of perversion in the past were coming back with greater clarity—yeah, she knew she had power over him now. He could see it glinting just beyond those shimmering brown eyes.


His swear came out strangled under the ball of Nani's foot, and she merely scoffed.

"Right there… this is where you want to be… isn't it?" she questioned in hushed tones, beginning to smirk, and Stitch could feel the pressure of her foot growing with each passing second. She was purposefully stepping down harder. "You like me, don't you, Stitch?"



Why lie…?

Knowing she wouldn't understand his alien tongue, Stitch simply nodded, pausing in his fervent tongue ministrations.


If Stitch had to pick a moment when everything changed, when their dynamic shifted into the deplorable, he would have to say it was when Nani uttered that single little degrading noise… when she awarded his honesty with that simple laugh.

Because it only got wilder from there.

A/N: #yearoftheoneshot (I haven't forgotten, life's been life'ing something fierce)