#I’m so so so greatful for all the compliments I’ve been receiving | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wisteria-blooms · 7 months ago

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P A R A D I S E // P O T I O N S!

PAIRING: Bill Weasley & You WARNINGS: smut!! so much smut!!, oral (giving, receiving), piv, sex pollen trope, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampies, all the makings of a bad porn plot **MINORS DNI** SUMMARY: As per Percy’s recommendation to his mother, you’re tasked to house-sit the Burrow while the family is away for the Quidditch World Cup. You’re Percy's closest friend and much like him, you are more than wary of his mischievous twin brothers, Fred and George. But what if their machinations lead you to something you’ve always dreamt of coming true? (8.0k words)

A/N: Been going through a bit of writer’s block recently, so hopefully a load of debauchery (as big as Bill's) breaks down that wall. I’ve been mad at how my sentences are coming out—they sound so redundant and boring. Also, I’m not great at editing my smut scenes because I get embarrassed reading them, so enjoy at your own risk. ;)

PARADISE POTIONS!

There was an undeniable feeling of late summer that nestled in the morning air, a pleasant marriage of warmth and wind. As you trekked up a tall, grassy hill, you breathed it all in. You were in disbelief that August had snuck up on you so suddenly. That meant only two weeks left of freedom before you were confined to a cubicle in the Ministry of Magic, wasting your life away.

‘It won’t be so bad’, you reminded yourself. After all, Percy Weasley would be there alongside you in the same department. He was your most supportive and reliable friend, contrary to popular opinion. And it’d been him that pitched the idea that you house sit the Burrow while he and his family were away at the Quidditch World Cup. Apparently, he’d told Molly that you were mature, responsible, and ‘very much like him.’ You had to tease him about the compliment he threw in about himself.

Molly would provide you room and board for the next week. Your tasks mainly included upkeep of the garden, feeding the animals, and ensuring the home didn’t seem completely empty as the whole family vacationed. Molly simply hated to keep an empty house.

“Good morning, Perce!” you greeted with a wave when you reached the tip of the hill.

He waved back from the main entrance. Then, he motioned for your luggage.

“How was your journey?”

“Uneventful,” you affirmed. “Though the walk up was great exercise. I feel very much awake now.”

“It’s quite the trek,” he agreed.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the orientation at the Ministry we had last week,” you gushed. “I’m so excited to start work.”

“Me too,” Percy agreed with a nod.

“Mum would like to have you in for a spot of breakfast,” Percy said.

“I’d be delighted.” You heard excellent things about Molly Weasley’s breakfasts.

Percy held the door open for you. The windchimes sounded from above you, signaling your entrance. You brushed past a fluttery overhead curtain. When the material unveiled itself, you came face to face with a long dining table. There were only six occupants: Ginny, Ron, the infamous Harry Potter, Hermione, Charlie, and Bill. You gave a small wave to the younger kids. They nodded wordlessly. You reckoned that in their eyes, any friend of Percy’s must be some masochist deviant.

To the side, Arthur was chatting with who you supposed was Amos Diggory, combing through their plans.

“Good morning, (Y/N) dear,” Molly greeted. You were glad she thought of you just as prim and proper and organized as her third-eldest son.

You took a seat with Percy. He sat where his newspaper and coffee mug laid, right in front of Charlie. With a nervous smile, you sat to his right and…

Your eyes immediately landed on Bill. He was Percy’s eldest brother, and by far the most handsome. You were embarrassed to admit that you’d always fancied him. Not in the soul-crushing-adult-love kind of way, but in a silly schoolgirl way. He was so tall, so subtly muscly from sports. And he was a little more fun than Percy, though you’d never tell him that.

But given that you were so young, there was no viable chance of anything happening. So, you chose to admire him from afar in the two years you overlapped schooling. You were now eighteen like Percy, but you maintained the fact Bill still saw you as a child, nothing else. It was an infatuation that would hurt no one, so you just let it be.

“Good morning, (Y/N).”

You suppressed a smile as he acknowledged you.

“Good morning, Bill.”

“Good morning, (Y/N),” sang Charlie.

You smiled. “Hi, Charlie.” Charlie was quite the handful. You preferred Bill’s calmness than Charlie’s calamity.

“I see it’s you who was tasked with watching our house,” Bill said. “I couldn’t have chosen better myself.”

“Thank you, Bill.” That compliment was going into your pocket for a rainy day.

Bill was still ever so handsome, appearances aging like fine wine, with his soft ginger locks that framed his sharp cheekbones. His blue eyes glinted in the morning sun. You peeked at his chiselled jaw and his—dare you say—kissable lips. His t-shirt barely hid the muscles in his arms. He might’ve been tall and predisposed to being lankier compared to Charlie, but you knew he had his own ways to keep fit.

You were so busy being entranced by Bill that you’d lost track of time and space. All you knew was that it was the best morning ever, sitting in front of him, surrounded by faint windchimes and the chirping birds outside to the window. Breakfast hadn’t even been served and you were already salivating thinking about Bill doing push-ups under the hot Egyptian sun, and that wasn’t even that deep in the gutter where most of your thoughts laid, in fact—

Suddenly, a large explosion reverberated through the house and shook the table. It jolted you and Percy. You yelped and ducked. When you regained your sense of place, you looked up. No one else besides you and Percy were fazed.

“What was that?” you asked Percy, trying to settle your heart.

“Fred! George!” Molly cried, walking over to the stairs with her spatula still in hand. “What have I told you about your experiments?”

“Sorry, mum,” George said, running down the stairs, a smidge of ash on his face. “That’s it for today, I promise.”

“I don’t want to hear this again, ever!” Molly shrieked. Then, she calmed down when she realised she was in front of guests. “Well, if that’s it, then help out a little bit, won’t you? We have to get going in less than an hour.”

“Sure thing,” George said with a smile. He ran over to the table and to the coffee pot. He gave it a jiggle, letting the remaining liquid slosh around. “Anyone need a top up of their coffee?”

“Mum made that pot, you can trust it,” Percy advised.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and then looked up at George, “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”

George sauntered over and poured you a cup. “Coffee, Bill?” he asked.

“That sounds good,” Bill responded.

“You’ll have to wait another ten minutes then,” George said with a frown. He tapped the empty glass container. “I’ve just run out. If only (Y/N) didn’t drink for two.”

“Quit it,” Percy warned his brother with a low tone.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You were about to offer Bill your cup when Percy held out a hand to stop you.

“Keep it,” Percy countered as she shoved the white mug back to your side. “I wouldn’t trust anything they put out. I’m glad it’s you that took the last of what mum made.”

You kept your voice quiet and giggled. “I hope Bill has an iron stomach, then.”

Percy nodded.

While Percy could be harsh on his siblings, you were grateful for his looking out for you. To be fair, you were also skittish around Fred and George. They weren’t as easy to read as other people. A friendly smile often meant something sinister.

“Would anyone like some liqueur in your morning beverage?” Fred asked, skipping three steps as he ran down the stairs. He reached underneath his coat as if selling contraband. “I have whatever tickles your fancy. In fact, Georgie and I have been working on something we reckon will be extremely profitable.”

Molly shot him a glare. You shook your head politely.

“Don’t feel like you have to respond to his foolishness,” advised Percy. “He doesn’t deserve your time of day.”

“Loosen up, (Y/N),” Fred commanded. “If you hang around Percy all day and refuse any fun, you’ll both die virgins.”

You went beet red immediately. It was a shade that rivalled Percy’s in speed and depth. You prayed that Bill wasn’t paying attention to you.

“That is ENOUGH!” bellowed Molly who whipped around so quickly that she nearly decapitated George with her wooden spoon. She’d reached her boiling point. “I won’t have you ruining our morning with your distasteful conversations, especially with all our guests presents.” She charged over to Fred and handed him a stack of plates. “Go on, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“(Y/N), darling,” Molly said, her sudden change in tone a little frightening. “I’ve cleared out Bill’s old room for you. Since he’s heading back to Egypt right after the World Cup, he’ll share Charlie’s room for the time for the last night. There are fresh sheets and towels and a change of clothes if you need. You are welcome to use the bath right next to the room.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Fred’s comment about your virginity went through one of Molly’s ears and out the other. Thank Merlin.

“Coffee’s ready, dear brother,” George sang. “How do you take it?”

“Just black,” Bill responded. “Thank you, George.”

You peered at Bill through a sip of coffee. Your heart fluttered again. Summers were really the best. It was the only chance to see him again for a flicker of time, an hour or two, before he travelled halfway across the world again. In this case, in a week. As the meal went on, you stared at him so intently during breakfast that your fork speared your cheek instead of your mouth multiple times.

When breakfast concluded, you assured Molly that you’d take care of the dishes and ushered her to the door.

“I hope you have a nice time,” you said to Ron and his friends. He mumbled a thanks. You smiled at him, happy that you were making some progress with Percy’s younger brother. Your peace was ruined by Fred and George murmuring amongst themselves excitedly. You hoped it was about the World Cup and nothing else.

Arthur was doing a routine headcount when he asked: “Where’s Bill?”

“He said he had some emergency work to finish up for the bank,” Charlie said. “Keep the portkey open for him for another hour, and he’ll be sure to make it by then.”

“If you need anything,” Percy said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You know where to find me.”

You nodded.

After the Weasleys left, you locked the door and headed back into the house. Knowing Bill was upstairs working, you got to tidying the kitchen in the quietest manner you could. You hoped the running water and the occasional clinking of dishes wasn’t bothering him. It would be really embarrassing if he came down to complain about the noise.

After the kitchen was cleaned, you went outside to trim the shrubs, water the plants, and feed the cows. You forced yourself not to peek at the front door to see if Bill had left. He probably had, and it hurt a bit that he’d gone without saying goodbye.

The temperature had risen dramatically since you arrived in the morning, and by the time you were done, you were a sweaty mess. Bill had likely gone which meant you’d have the house to yourself. You caved into the idea of a long bath to wipe the mud and grime off your body. You dashed up to the main washroom Molly offered you and began running the water.

When you were finished with your bath, you wrapped a clean towel around you and proceeded to your room. Maybe you could do some reading and take a nap before deciding on dinner, Your chest tingled when you realised it was Bill’s old room—how lucky were you? The first thing you noticed when you entered was that Bill’s room was clean and sparse. Molly had left a window cracked open to allow for a gentle breeze, and placed your clothes on the bed. You took a couple steps forward and let your towel drop on the floor to reach for your tank top when suddenly…

Your hand met a tuft of hair. Hair that was attached to a pale, sweaty head.

You screamed as you tumbled back, your bare bum hitting the wooden floor. Oh, where the heck was your wand when you needed it? You grabbed a pair of slippers in self-defence.

“Who’s there?” you said in the bravest voice you could muster. “You need to get out of here, now!”

The thing in the bed just groaned weakly. You saw a pale, shaking arm stick out of the covers. Whatever it was, it was at least human, hopefully.

Your hand grappled the top of the desk for your wand. Once you found it, you rose cautiously from the floor with the intent to peel away the covers. You’d dealt with Boggarts; you’d seen your worst nightmares in person. You treaded cautiously because the creature could rise at any moment. But it didn’t, forcing you to get closer.

Your heart almost stopped when your hands grasped the hem of the covers. Your life flashed before your eyes. You needed to survive. You needed to live to work with Percy at the Ministry come September. You needed to live for your family. You needed to live for the off chance Bill Weasley shared the same feelings as you—oh, you were about to die, what was the point of thinking about Bill?

With your wand in an offensive position, you ripped the sheets off.

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

What?

It took you a few seconds to process it, but this… thing wasn’t a creature at all. In fact, it was Bill Weasley. Well, an apparition of him of sorts. He looked extremely pale and sickly, his skin the shade of paper. His ginger hair stuck to his face, his sweat binding it like it was wet glue. There was an intense warmth radiating from his skin, and his body jostled slightly as the cold air hit him.

“Bill? You called out in complete disbelief. “Are—are you okay?”

He groaned in response. Slowly, he turned his head towards you. He looked even worse up close, or as worse as Bill Weasley could possibly look. His eyebrows were intensely furrowed, his breathing laboured, and he could barely open those pretty eyes of his—oh, not this again! Bill looked to be on death’s bed and all you were thinking about was how handsome he was.

“I don’t know what happened,” Bill breathed out. His voice was a mere rasp. “I was feeling fine this morning. I can hardly get up now. And I can’t talk,” he coughed as if to prove a point, “above a whisper.”

“Are you running a fever?” you inquired, concern thick in your voice.

“No, I don’t think—,” Bill mustered the strength to open his eyes. He looked startled. “(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Where…”

You looked at Bill intently.

“Where are your clothes?”

“Huh?”

You looked down. Your mouth went slack. You were barer than the day you were born.

“Shit!” you exclaimed. “I’m sorry, don’t look, don’t look, sorry, sorry!” So caught up in the heat of things, you’d haphazardly abandoned your towel in exchange for your life. You scampered back to retrieve it and tied it back on yourself. When you looked up, Bill was, fortunately, turned away, and only a sliver of his naked back was visible to you.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked in a state of panic. ‘Besides giving you a show?’ On the inside, you had to laugh at the thought of a striptease benefiting Bill’s health.

Bill was looking worse for wear with every passing second, and you were just prancing around without clothes. “Your mother keeps potions in the cabinet, doesn’t she? I’ll go find an antipyretic--”

Bill swiped at his forehead with his palm. “I don’t think it’s a fever, well, to the best of my knowledge.”

“Then perhaps some water?” you offered. “Or some soup?”

“(Y/N),” Bill called. Your name rolled off like velvet from his lips. “Come here, please.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart was beating erratically and whether it was out of fear or anticipation, you didn’t know. Still, you complied and began walking over. The floor felt like pricks underneath your feet.

“Could you please take these sheets off?” Bill asked. “I might try to cool down.”

You nodded. “S-sure.” You pinched the hem of the bedsheet with your forefinger and thumb and carefully stripped the sheet off. Every second that passed unveiled a new, delicious sight: Bill’s toned chest, the crevice between his chest and abdominal muscles, the veins running down his forearms, and the shapely twin creases that led straight down to his briefs. A chill of disappointment ran through your body when you realised he was still clothed.

‘Stay focussed’, you pleaded with yourself. You were here to help Bill, not to take advantage of him.

“Is that better?” you asked Bill, but your eyes weren’t on his face. They were instead fixated on the centre of his body and namely, the very present bulge at the apex of his black briefs. His manhood had tented so viciously that it stretched the black fabric until it was translucent. Was that a spot of pink flesh or were you just seeing things? You gulped and tried to reign in your imagination.

Bill breathed out as the cool air kissed his skin. “Marginally.”

“I can bring the fan inside the room,” you suggested so quickly you almost toppled off the bed.

“Wait.” Bill’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could get anywhere. Your skin scorched. “Can you help me with one more thing?”

You were about to explode. “Sure, Bill.”

“Could you help me remove my briefs too?”

Your jaw had, at this point, permanently detached from your face. “What?”

“Just one last thing and my temperature should regulate itself.”

Was stripping really a remedy to Bill’s ailment? Shaking your head, you decided to help him in any way possible before running back to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face to ascertain that you weren’t dreaming. This definitely had to be a dream. Today probably hadn’t even started yet. Any minute now, your alarm would ring and you would wake up so disappointed.

“Alright.”

Slowly, you hooked your fingers underneath the elastic waistband of Bill’s briefs. His blue eyes fluttered close and his face twisted in relief. You suppressed a groan at the sight of Bill like this, pleasured by your every touch.

You’d never admit that Fred was right in his observation this morning, but it was true that you’d never seen a… penis in the flesh. But there was no turning away now as your hands worked to expose every inch of pink flesh hiding underneath Bill’s undergarments. It was deliciously lewd, the way his long cock sprang out from the confines of his boxers and nearly slapping you in the face. A tad closer, and the appendage would’ve swiped your cheek. Just inches in front you pulsed a swelling, oozing pink tip that was connected to a thick shaft that only seemed to grow slightly in girth as you stripped him.

You had nothing but anatomical pictures and the circumference of your wrist to compare him to, but even you knew he was bigger than average. Bill had, truly, the prettiest cock to ever exist. Pale, smooth, pink, but an angrier shade coloured the head. He was thick, but even thicker near the base. Veins painted his manhood like art. You almost had to wonder how he’d feel inside you, splitting your virgin pussy open. It would kill you.

Holy shit. You had to stop thinking, because you were getting yourself wet.

Bill raised his hips up to help you bring the last bit of his briefs down from underneath him. Your hand grazed the back of his thigh. The unintended action elicited a not-so-subtle moan from Bill.

“I’m sorry, I—,” Bill said, pushing himself up on the bed. His neck was flushed crimson and his breathing heavy. You had plummeted into the ocean with the saltwater flooding your ears; you could barely hear. You gulped as a bead of wetness suddenly spurted out of the tip of his cock and threatened to run down the length of it. “I reckon I was cursed or hexed by someone,” he surmised. “It’s not like me to require such things of you, or anyone for that matter.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. Your hand was turning white with the deathgrip on your towel. “But Bill, did that… help?”

The smartest thing to do was to remove yourself from this conversation and call for help, but you kept pressing the topic. You planted your palms on the mattress and looked on in awe. Bill was well-endowed beyond your wildest dreams. You couldn’t stop admiring him.

Forgetting he was naked, Bill sat up. His cock curled closer to his navel as a result. “What?”

You ripped your eyes away from the bead of precum that’d captivated your attention. “When we touched. It seemed to bring some colour to your face.”

“Come to think of it, I reckon it did, yeah,” Bill responded. He furrowed his brows, his words dying on his lips. There was only one direction this conversation was going to go and you had steered it off the overpass and down the cliff.

You spoke up first. “Have you tried touching…”

“Myself?” Bill finished with a chuckle.

You blushed. “Yes, well,” you countered. “It’s not entirely unreasonable, and—”

“I have.”

You tilted your head. “And?”

Bill attempted to lift his hands, but they gravitated down to the bed. “Well, I’ve… tried,” he admitted sheepishly, “but it’s made it worse.” He chuckled and shook his head at the state he was in. “And now I can’t even manage to move my arm.”

“Oh.” You frowned. “But when I touched you, you felt better?”

Bill blew out some air which tickled the wet hair on his forehead. He gestured to his raging erection. “Can you… would you mind? You’re right, it might help.”

Would you mind?

Of course you wouldn’t.

“I’ve never, erm,” you countered. A blaze of heat rushed to your cheeks. You didn’t want to admit to Bill that Fred was right when he clocked you as a virgin, though it didn’t take a deep understanding of your person to come to that conclusion. You and Percy both looked down on dalliances as prefects back in school, even busting students in the act and sending them to be reprimanded. You reckoned Bill was going to find it uncool but it was better to be truthful. “I’ve never done this with anyone.”

He chuckled. “I figured.”

You wanted to shrivel up and die.

“But it’s absolutely fine,” Bill correctly quickly, knowing he’d offended you slightly. “You don’t need to have done it to know how to do it. I’ll guide you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He did his best to motion to the base of him with his hands. “Grip me firmly down here.”

You obliged, holding him at the base with your right hand as you clutched your towel in the other. For an usually flaccid body part, Bill was very, very hard and warm. All the blood in his body was concentrated into one area, so it made sense. You were grateful when your thumb still managed to touch the tips of your fingers because, well, he was quite big and you weren’t confident he was going to fit in your hand.

“Move up and down,” Bill instructed in between heavy pants. You nodded. When you started shifting your hand from the base to the head and back, he let out a low groan. His skin felt like velvet in your hands; he felt so good. “Yeah, just like that.” Precum dribbled from Bill and onto from the side of your fingers as you moved faster and covered more ground. Bill’s eyes alternated from open to close in erratic intervals as you began to adjust your speed and the tightness of your fingers around him. When Bill stopped talking, you reckoned you were doing a pretty damn good job.

Bill was powerless underneath you and you relinquished the feeling. But you wanted more.

So, you shifted from the edge of the bed towards the end of it, squeezing yourself in between his long legs. You never took your hands off him in the process so Bill was none the wiser about your mischievous movements. So, it was only when Bill heard the creaking of the bed that he looked up in surprise. By then, it was too late. You had already stopped pumping his shaft and leaned in to inhale the sweet musk instead.

“Can I?” you asked, batting your eyelashes.

Bill inhaled sharply, his cock duking out his brain for once the last shred of modesty. Oh, fuck modesty. “Only if you want to.”

In one swift motion, you leaned in and kissed the red and leaking tip. Clearly, it was you who really wanted to do this. When the soft skin of your lips met the soft skin of his head, Bill let out an audible gasp that was immediately swallowed by a throaty moan. He was not expecting you to be so brazen, so generous in your help. Little did he know you’d do anything for him at this point, his own affliction long forgotten.

“How does that feel?” you asked.

“Amazing,” he rasped.

You licked the precum—salty, a little tingly, you noted—off his slit with the tip of your tongue. He tasted so good. Bill threw his head back. The ridges of his abs crinkled as he tried to hold himself upright with his elbows on the bed. He wanted to see you. You smacked your lips, unable to wait patiently to devour your meal. Then, in a moment of pure deviousness and sheer horniness, you enveloped Bill’s tip around your mouth.

“Shit!”

This was the last thing Bill said before he fell back onto the bed. You took that as a sign of surrender; what you were doing felt too good for him to keep his defences up. He’d long stopped giving you instructions and let you take reign. Emboldened, you licked the slit with your tongue with Bill still nestled in your mouth. You then began to take him in further, as far as you could before he reached a natural stopping point at the back of your throat. Your mouth tensed—he was too big to fit comfortably inside. You sucked in your cheeks, hypothesising that a tighter fit would feel better for Bill. Sure, you were inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid or ignorant on the subject of what was pleasurable.

“Yes, that’s it, (Y/N), just like that.”

You forewent your towel in favour of holding onto Bill’s thighs, placing one hand on the side of each of his legs. Still, you pressed your breasts down on the bed to hide your nipples to preserve what little was left for Bill to still see. Then again, what was the point of dignity when his dick was in your mouth?

Bill’s hands quietly crept along the bedsheets and floated towards your head. From there, his long fingers wove and nestled themselves in your hair so deeply that it wouldn’t be easy for you to untangle yourself. Clever of him. His fingernails glided across your scalp, slowly, tenderly, like a predator circling their prey before the attack. Bill then started guiding your head up and down slowly, his patience clearly wearing thin and needing to take matters into his own hands--literally.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to speak. Bill noted this and chuckled. You gave him a pointed look.

“Hard to look intimidating with my cock in your mouth, love,” he said, tightening his fingers around your hair. You grumbled something unintelligible. The wetness leaking out of your core spoke volumes for you.

Bill’s hands were fully entangled in your hair as he continued to lift you up and down. Slow at first, but he could hardly contain himself after the first minute. The way his big cock pulsed in your mouth, gods… The faster he commanded you to move, the more his visage grew streaked from the tears in your eyes. You tightened your grip on his thighs every time his cock glided across your palate and pushed itself down your throat. You did everything in your power to not gag or choke, but when he did strike particularly deep, you pulled off of him immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Bill quickly said. “Was that too much?”

You shook your head, wiped a wet line of tears from your face, coughed, and responded, “No, I’m fine.”

You crawled back to him and engulfed him without another word.

“Ah,” Bill breathed out. “Fuck, (Y/N). You feel so good.”

You shouldn’t be enjoying being used so much, but you loved it. Loved it especially when Bill held you in place and began thrusting into your mouth instead as a means to conserve effort and increase his speed. You were growing wetter and wetter with every compliment he spoke. You imagined Bill’s big hands gripping your hips, stilling you, as he thrust repeatedly into your pussy. You wanted to be used everywhere.

“Shit,” he growled, lazy eyes hovering on you. Deliciously lazy and so hazy. “I’m close.”

He stopped thrusting, but you hadn’t stopped bobbing your head up and down. You were so far gone in your quest to make Bill come that you’d thrown your own needs aside.

“Hold on, (Y/N),” Bill commanded. “Don’t you want to—ah—!”

You knew he’d reached his climax when his hips ascended and stilled above the bed. A deep moan left his mouth. Bill’s cock twitched heavily with every rope of cum that shot its way into your mouth. He didn’t quit until every crevice of your mouth was sloshing with his seed; he was a never-ending faucet of cum.

After a minute, you finally detached yourself from him, careful to keep the fruits of your labour in your mouth and not on the bed sheets that Bill’s mother had laundered so well. You swallowed all the cum in your mouth. It wasn’t as pleasant as the books and films had made it out to be—it was warm and slightly bitter, but it was Bill’s and heaven knew you’d do anything for him.

Bill threw himself back on the bed, his head meeting the pillow with a soft thud. He was still breathing heavily as he reposed. Though his hair stuck wildly to his cheeks—which were slowly regaining colour—his face expressed newfound calm.

Bill patted the pillow beside him, on the spot in between the wall and his body. “Come here,” he rasped, his eyes still closed.

You obliged and scooted upwards. Bill splayed his arm on the pillow to give you a makeshift headrest. You settled into the nook of his bicep. Through the corner of your eye, you stole little glances at Bill and the rise and fall of his chest. A warm, midday breeze fluttered through the open windows, the red curtains billowing out. Everything was so serene, so tranquil, so…Holy shit, what had you just done?

Just three hours ago, you were wistfully staring at Bill at breakfast, grateful to have seen him at all this year to feed your starving crush on him. Now, you were laying naked in his bed with him after giving him what you hoped was an acceptable blowjob. It was both great and terrible that you wouldn’t see him after today. How would you explain this to anyone if you couldn’t even believe it yourself? You needed to bolt and never see Bill again.

Bill snapped you out of your trance. “(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Bill?”

You turned around to find yourself reflected in his crystal blue eyes.

“Would you like to finish, too?”

“Oh, uhm!” Well, you hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “No, I’m okay.” An utter lie. Your pussy was pleading to be fucked. You sat up, preparing yourself to go. “I should finish up with my chores. You should get going before the portkey closes.”

Bill grasped your wrist again. “I don’t want to go.” He sat up with you and looked you straight in the eye.

He was serious. The intensity of his gaze was so overwhelming that you looked down. You sucked a quiet breath in.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said, placing a hand on your cheek. “Let me, please.”

You choked. Was Bill Weasley begging to go down on you? The resolute look on his face definitely extinguished any fight you had left in you. A fraction of a second after you nodded, Bill turned you over and kissed you. One hand remained on your cheek while the other wrapped itself around your naked waist to pull you closer until your chest was flush against his. If you weren’t focussed on how hard his lips were pressed on yours, you would’ve been more embarrassed about how your pert nipples were pressed against his chest. Bill obviously didn’t mind, in fact, he was trying to pull you in as close as possible, closing the last sliver of space between your bodies.

Bill tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His lips felt like hard silk—a walking contradiction— against you and now you wished to feel them everywhere: on your neck, on your breasts, on your stomach and in between your legs. You reckoned he should kiss heavily in between your legs.

Bill was all lean muscle and long limbs. He couldn’t splay out on the bed as easily as you could. He landed on his knees, then shifted you upwards until your head was resting against the baseboard of the bed. He spread your legs with his hands—so big that they absolutely swallowed you—using his thumb as anchors.

He looked back up at you. His eyes had darkened significantly, like a sudden storm that had broken through a clear day. Whatever drug was flowing through his veins, it was only growing more potent. “You’re so wet.”

You made an attempt to shut your legs. You were cycling through moments of confidence and embarrassment, and his words made you want to curl up and die.

“Don’t,” Bill said. “You turn me on so much. Who knew that behind such an innocent facade was a girl begging to be fucked?”

And just like that, your legs fell open in one buttery smooth motion.

”That’s it, such a good girl for me,” Bill praised. He leaned in and ran his tongue flat over your folds. You squirmed but his iron-clad hold on you prohibited any movement. You tried so very hard to quiet yourself as his tongue painted you in oscillating strokes. You gasped whenever he landed briefly on your clitoris. He hummed, pleased, and let the vibrations rock your body. Your breathing was dangerously unsteady as Bill pulled you closer to him and increased the intensity of his tongue. He unlatched one hand from your thigh and shifted them near your drooling entrance. Gently, he inserted a finger. Before you could jump upwards at the intrusion, he brought his tongue back to your clit to massage away any pain. “So sweet,” he hummed again. Bill kept his finger steady inside you until your squirming stopped.

“You’re so tight,” Bill whispered. He added another finger to your already taut hole. “I can barely fit two fingers in here. How do you suppose you’ll take my cock, hm?”

A rhetorical question. Instead of waiting for an answer, Bill began moving his fingers back and forth. You let out a small whine that you buried into the pillow. “Sh, it’s okay, just relax, darling,” Bill assured. In a matter of moments, Bill had gone from shallow little thrusts to burying his fingers to the hilt. The motion of his fingers curling inside you elicited a load moan from your lips, and your legs parted further in response. It was over when his stupid tongue found its way back to your clit; you nearly screamed. He flicked your sensitive bud over and over, building the pressure in the region. Between that, and Bill’s face buried between your legs and the wet sounds of his fingers inside you, you were just one thrust away from coming undone.

“Bill, Bill—” you tried to stop him, too scared to be thrown over the edge. But Bill showed no sign of stopping. When he sucked on your clit, you knew it was over. He had pushed you off the cliff. “Bill!”

You clamped down on his hand, but Bill hadn’t stopped moving; he was intending to fuck you through it. Waves of pleasure, sweetly punctuated by Bill’s nimble fingers, washed over you until you had no coherent thought left. You laid there for a minute, until your heart rate had finally settled back to normal.

“I’m getting impatient,” Bill chuckled. “Seeing you writhe around like that, coming on all over my hand, Merlin..”

You tightened your lips. “Me too.”

“What was that?” he teased, pretending not to hear.

“I’m getting impatient.”

“For what?”

“You know what for.”

He shot you a cocky grin. “I won’t know until you tell me.”

“Fuck me, Bill,” you almost screamed. “Fuck me, please.” It was killing you. You looked down at Bill’s manhood. He looked even harder and fuller than how you found him, if that were even possible. His cock twitched to stand at full attention when you shuffled back to him. You wanted to feel him, so warm and engorged, inside you, splitting you open with how big he was.

“You’re so needy, (Y/N),” Bill teased. He laid down. “Get on top of me, I want to see you.”

You clambered over immediately. You splayed a leg on each side of him and propped yourself up with your knees. Wordlessly, Bill pulled you in and your body listened. He met your lips for another kiss that showed no signs of being broken. Well, not until he decided to latch onto one of your nipples instead. His lips covered the circumference of your areola and sucked gently.

“Bill,” you whimpered, succumbing once again to his dexterous tongue. He swirled around your sensitive bud, flicking it back and forth, and sending little electric shocks down to your toes. You were getting so, so wet for him.

One of Bill’s hands trailed down to his cock and gave it a couple of strokes before he aimed it towards your core. You moaned every time he pressed against your throbbing clit before moving back to your opening and repeating the motion. You needed to come again, and Bill was intent on bringing you there. He rubbed the head back and forth, concentrating the slick to where he eventually wanted to be. He was showing great restraint; it was taking everything not to just thrust into you.

“You already feel so good,” he praised. “So wet, so tight, love, all for me. I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy.”

Bill piled on the words and continued to ravish your breasts as a distraction of what was to come. The head of his cock was directly aligned with your opening that was weeping at the thought of him inside you. But the largest thing you’d taken ever were Bill’s fingers; he couldn’t possibly fit without absolutely destroying you. The universe couldn’t have gifted you with a warm-up, could it? Instead, it gifted you the girth of Bill. Still, you remained in place, readying yourself as he began to enter you.

You gasped at the first intrusion. You clenched Bill’s forearms in retaliation, your mouth parting in shock. You wanted him badly, but your anatomy wasn’t letting your desires take the front seat.

Bill placed a hand on your back. Stiff. “You’re tense,” he noted, kissing up on your neck. “Just relax. It’ll feel good, I promise.” You nodded, trusting him.

“Hngh—!” was all you let out when he pushed deeper. Your breathing fell out of sync as you tried to calm yourself. Maybe this was it, and all of him was already inside of it.

“That’s just my head inside you, love,” Bill stated, as if reading your mind.

You paled. “How are you so big?”

Bill chuckled in agreement before swallowing you in a kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you could taste the pure need radiating off him. He gave little shallow thrusts, trying to ease himself into you. Though it still burned heavily, a ring of pain, as he stretched you out, Bill’s pace was making it much more tolerable and frankly, more erotic.

When he was halfway in, Bill’s eyes fell shut in utter bliss. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, pulling them apart, as if it would help you sink further down on him.

“You take me so well,” he said as he continued impaling your poor little pussy. He never stopped littering you with kisses, whether it was on your lips, cheeks, neck, or breasts. He suckled your tits again when he rammed the thickest part of him inside you in one thrust.

You stifled a cry into the crook of his neck and tightened your arms around him. “Bill!”

“Give it a minute, (Y/N),” he assured, but his voice sounded garbled, so far away. “I promise, it’s going to feel so good.”

When he felt you relax a little, Bill began to increase the length of his thrusts, breaking into your pussy a little more each time. You fell onto him, the pleasure beginning to overwrite the pain.

Bill moaned as he sped up the slightest. “You’re so tight, (Y/N), tighter than I could’ve ever imagined.” His words only added fuel to the fire. “I can’t believe it’s me that gets to break into your pussy.”

“Then break me, Bill,” you pleaded. “Please. Harder.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to ask twice.”

Bill looped his arms around you to hold you in place. From there, he began to drive himself into you faster, harder, just like a hole to be used for his pleasure, just like you had asked.

“Oh!”

You could hardly keep your eyes open as he assaulted your body. He tested different depths and angles, watching your facial expressions for the perfect one. His long, deep strokes were landing on the perfect place - a place that had you seeing stars. So pleasurable but just millimetres away from being too much, too painful. There was so much of him inside you. Your legs stiffened, almost cramping, as the heat increased in pitches in your core. Your hands went wild, trying to find a place to stabilise your body. They found refuge on the top of the headboard. In one particularly hard thrust, he sheathed himself completely inside you, the widest part of him spearing you open.

That was the precise moment you came undone, screaming. White obfuscated your vision as you lost control of your body. You convulsed on him, your pussy contracting around his cock like a vice. Bill continued to fuck you through your orgasm, bottoming out in you repeatedly, letting you ride out the pleasure for as long as humanely possible. You fell onto him like a rag doll, limp, worn out from your second orgasm. Bill could only smile at a job well done. He withdrew himself from you and flipped you over. He nestled his manhood back between your legs. You watched with excitement as his cock, covered in your cream, sprang to his navel. You felt so hollow without him inside you, and you were about to beg for him again, but he moved quickly. He leaned towards you, placing the head of his cock to your opening once again. But instead of delving into you like you had hoped, he rubbed himself against you, occasionally pushing into you the slightest.

Confused, you raised your hips up, trying to align yourself perfectly with his cock and push him back in. But your attempts were futile.

“Don’t do that,” you chastised when you realised he was doing this on purpose.

“Do what?” Bill asked innocently.

“Tease me like this.”

He smirked. “Who said I was teasing you?”

Just as you were about to retort, Bill drove himself into you when you were least expecting it, burying himself entirely into you. Your body shivered in pleasure, legs straightening and stiffening. You screamed when he quickened his pace, pounding into you with deep, full thrusts. His hands gripped your bouncing breasts, keeping them in place and occasionally pinching your nipples. Bill pushed himself to the hilt, then almost withdrew completely, before filling you up again as hard as he could. At certain points, he would hit a bundle of nerves that caused your toes to curl. At some point, you couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure—it all felt so overwhelmingly good.

The lewd sound of his balls hitting your skin was heaven to your ears. In this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled with his seed.

“Come inside me,” you near screamed.

Your little request was enough to break Bill out of his trance. “What?”

“Come inside me,” you repeated.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

With no reason to ask you to clarify again, Bill obliged. He gave a couple more thrusts, so powerful it forced your body to slide up over the bedsheets and your head to almost slam into the headboard. Then, he let out a loud, choked grunt, his eyes screwing shut. You could feel his cock twitch heavily inside you as he deposited his seed, filling your pussy. He hovered over you, exhausted, draining every last bit of him inside you. Both of you shared the same laboured respiration. You reached up and pushed back the ginger hair that was strewn across his forehead.

Bill began to soften inside you, but refused to pull out just yet. If you stayed here like this any longer, there was no doubt you’d meld together into one.

With a heavy almost regretful breath, Bill reluctantly removed himself out of you. You felt his cum trickling rapidly out of you and onto the bed sheets. You sat up to look. There was so much. it was smeared all over your sex, all over your inner thighs, and all over the sheets. There was no doubt there was more deep inside you.

You looked up at Bill. Much to your disappointment, he looked to be back to his usual, happy self. Your services were no longer required. And much to your disappointment, he was looking around for his briefs. Well, it wasn’t like you could stay in paradise forever.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said.

“Of course,” you responded.

Bill gave you a small peck on the lips which made you smile. Then, it all went downhill from there, as he returned not more than a second later for another kiss. This time, deeper, thick with more lust. The next kiss, he had you pinned you on the bed by the arms. Unexpectedly, you felt him harden against you once more. His cock was back its previous stiffness and trying to find its way back to your cunt.

He paused. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into me,” Bill admitted sheepishly.

“You mean you’re not usually like this?” you questioned with a smile. You didn’t mind it, not one bit.

He contemplated it. “It has been a while, but it’s highly unlikely for me to go twice, let alone three times a day.”

“Really?” You cocked your head. “Is that not—”

Before you could speak, Bill plunged himself into you once more. Your mouth went slack. It was quite an effective way to shut you up. Most of his spend was still either deep inside you or running down your inner thighs, but he was intent on pumping you full of him even more.

You had no complaints. Instead, you succumbed to the wet sloshes of his thrusts and messy kisses once again.

…..

In a tent one long Portkey away from the Burrow, a very different conversation was taking place.

“How do you reckon our Paradise Potions did?”

“Considering that Bill hasn’t joined us, I’d say pretty well.”

END!

Part 2

#bill weasley smut #bill weasley x you #bill weasley x y/n #bill weasley x reader #smut #bill weasley imagine #why am i so horny!!#sex pollen #kinktober

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dollishmehrayan · 10 days ago

Text

𐔌 . ⋮ DAMIAN WAYNE AS A S/O .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ ── .✦ ( solo damian wayne x reader run )

𝜗𝜚 a/n: I’ve been reading damian’s run these days and aww stop he’s so adorable anyways I thought why not to write something for him to get out my writers block sooo enjoy?? anyways I was pressured by my bbg @kyriakis to post this so after this I’ll probably write genuine hcs of him only of things he probably does / used to based off canon, tags: ( damian wayne x reader ) ! Disclaimer the following tags include jason, dick, bruce, Tim even when not mentioned this allows for the fandom to equally react since most don’t follow damian tag

A BIT OF A GREAT GIFTER ── .✦

Damian’s idea of romance is... a little dramatic. You once casually mentioned how you like the color purple or any other color and the next day you received an extravagant bouquet of rare lavender flowers, LIKE THIS MAN REMEMBERS WELL.

“Purple is a necessary part of your aesthetic,” he states nonchalantly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

But then, if you ever mention how much you love a particular type of chocolate or a specific scent, he’ll track it down and somehow acquire it without you knowing and just say it’s a ‘gift’ as if he didn’t spend hours finding it.

And if you dare to ask him about it? PFFFF

“Tt, don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply noticed the details, as any competent person would.”

DRAMATIC BUT ON LEVEL 10 ── .✦

Damian acts like you’re going on an actual mission when you leave the house. “What do you mean you’re going for a walk? You can’t just walk around Gotham. There’s danger everywhere.”, “It’s just a bodega damian.”

And even if it’s just a trip to the store, he’ll insist on accompanying you with that “I’m doing this for your own safety” tone, but the moment you come back home, he acts like he’s been out on patrol the entire time.

“I’ve successfully completed the task of ensuring no harm came to you.” HIS LOVE IS IN ACTIONS NOT WORDS OKAY?!

He says this while wearing a full suit and tie, because of course, that makes sense for a walk to the bodega ( corner shop )

Not the Best at Compliments, but...

Damian’s way of showing affection can be a little... rough. But somehow, it always gets the point across, think of like people being sarcastic as a love language but his seems to be like kinda blunt? Where at first he won’t say out loud ‘oh I love you’ no but he isn’t ignorant either, he knows he loves you and that’s validated to him.

“You’re fine. I mean, I guess I could see how someone would find you attractive. It’s not the worst thing in the world.”

And then he’ll look at you, almost daring you to call him out. But in truth, his eyes are saying, “I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world, but I’ll never admit it because I am Damian Wayne, and I am far too cool for this.”

The thing is, though, he’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy, even if it means begrudgingly going out of his way to make sure you get exactly what you want.

WILL DEFEND YOU 100% ── .✦

one of his brothers say something mildly annoying to you?

“Don’t talk to them like that.”

Damian’s got your back no matter how small the offense.

Someone’s being rude to you in public? He’s ready to pull a full I’m Damian Wayne, son of Batman, sole heir to ra’s al ghul and start a verbal altercation, followed by a very intense, “No, they didn’t just say that about you” look.

You? Trying to defuse the situation like a normal person?

Damian? “Nope, too late. I already decided it’s a fight now, this is mockery.

If you’re lucky, he’ll look at you and say, “It’s okay. I’m protecting you,” with a glint in his eye that says, “And you better be grateful.”

GENUINELY DOESNT GET PDA BUT FOR A GOOD REASON ── .✦

Damian’s not one to show affection publicly. In fact, he’ll try to avoid touching you at all if he’s around anyone. But the second he’s sure no one is looking, you’ll catch him glaring at you from across the room like, “We’re together, and everyone should know it, but I won’t say it.” BUT he isn’t embarrassed by you or isn’t hiding you relationship

It’s just private not secret.

He’ll give you the occasional side-hug or brush your hand ever so slightly, then immediately retreat like nothing happened if you don’t grab it fast enough.

But if you’re standing near him, don’t be surprised when he casually places a hand on your shoulder or rests his head on yours... only for it to turn into the most awkward five seconds ever, followed by an immediate, “What? It’s not like I wanted to do that. You were in my personal space.” HE DOESNR WANT TO ADMIT HE’S DEPENDENT 😭

So, yeah. PDA with Damian is... complicated, BUT ITS DIFFERENT

“It’s a Normal Relationship. I Don’t Know What You’re Talking About”

Damian, when you ask if he wants to do something like go for a walk, or watch a movie together:

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re not doing anything special. This is just a normal... well, normal for us. What is ‘normal,’ anyway?”

And yet, there he is, sitting with you, absolutely enjoying the time together trying to act like it's nothing special, but he’s leaning in just a little too close to you to be that casual.

Sometimes, he’ll act like he’s too cool for the typical date stuff, but in reality, he’s all in. He’s just trying to pretend he’s not, to maintain his Bat-cred.

COMPETITIVE TO A TEA ── .✦

This seems like a regular occurrence for him where, it’s not only you but anyone, he likes competition and challenges in general by classmates, friends, you, teammates, anyone. ( This also why he doesn’t do well on teams in canon but we ain’t ready for this convo )

Whenever there’s something to compete over whether it’s a simple game or a sparring match damian’s all in. He takes everything way too seriously.

“I’ll beat you at Mario Kart.”

Damian: “Tt, you think I’m going to let you win? You underestimate me immensely this is social injustice to my name.”

And the next thing you know, he’s strategizing his every move, plotting out every turn like he’s planning an actual mission. MEANWHILE ITS JUST JENGA DAMN

When he inevitably wins (because he’s Damian Wayne, and you knew he was going to), he’ll throw you the most smug smile.

“I told you. You should’ve known better.”

BUT HE LOVES YOU ── .✦

Underneath the tough exterior, Damian’s a softie who occasionally lets his guard down when you're alone together. He might not say it, but you know when he's trying to be vulnerable.

For example, one evening, after a particularly intense patrol or he says something too smart during a simple game of uno , he’ll just stare at you, quietly, in the way that only Damian can.

“You’re... okay, right? I didn’t, uh, hurt you…. I apologize for my lack of understanding if that hurt you.”

You’ll blink and be like, “You literally saved me like 10 minutes ago?”

And he’ll just look away, muttering something like, “Well, I don’t want you to get hurt. I just... don’t want to lose anyone again.” ( damian ‘I will not have anyone dying for my mistakes the way he did’ Wayne ☹️

And then he’ll change the subject super quickly, because he doesn’t want to burden you with his fears

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onepieceisreeeeaaalll · 2 months ago

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Hiiiii so I was mayhaps wondering if I could get a Sanji x reader, (fem mayhaps) and when Sanji flirts reader flirts back just as much and they fluster poor Sanji :3

FLIRTING COMPETITION - Sanji x Fem!Reader

Hiiiii!! Omg I loved this request, I tried my best to write a cute little blurb. I hope it’s satisfactory! This is actually the first request I’ve ever gotten and I’m not gonna lie I giggled like an idiot hehe.

CW: SFW, Blood mention (nose bleed), anime Sanji antics, flirty remarks but nothing past pg

~1.3k

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A new woman on board the Sunny is cause for celebration for no less than five of the Straw Hats. Nami and Robin were elated that there's finally someone else to connect with, to break up the monotony of the otherwise male-dominated crew. Not that they minded, but eventually you can only take so much locker room smell and fart jokes. Chopper was also excited, having another person to dote on him (not that some of the men aboard didn’t also do it in their own ways.) Luffy was excited, but of course it had nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with having another member of the crew who he invariably adored. Another crewmate, another nakama.

Nobody is more excited than Sanji, though.

At first, it's a little weird. You notice how Sanji dotes on and tends to the women in the crew. Extra treats, googly eyes, nose bleeds. He'd roll out the red carpet if he had one, release confetti if there were any aboard. The little comments didn't really get to you, and it seemed that Nami and Robin are already used to them. So, the flirtatious remarks from Sanji weren't really given any weight, and certainly not any attention. At least, not at first.

It started small. Well, from you at least - for Sanji’s part, the flirting was as obnoxious as ever. You’d offer him a warm smile here, a chaste laugh there. Anything to show your gratitude for the extra attention, though the flirting was certainly becoming an issue. You couldn’t quite decide what was bothering you about it so much. Maybe it was the fact that it was relentless and constant. There wasn't a single meal that went by without it, and it'd be an off day if Sanji didn't openly ogle and flirt. Or that it didn’t actually bother you at all - rather, it bothered you that it was indiscriminate, not just meant for you. It was shared among all three of you women aboard. Yes, maybe that was the issue. The comments have been wearing you down, and something deep inside was feeling something that maybe wasn’t very smart to be feeling, especially when dealing with an insatiable casanova like Sanji. Though, could he really be called that? You’re certain the boy reeked of virginity.

So, Sanji is a flirt. That much is obvious. And there were plenty of times where it left you flustered or flushed or even unsure of what to say. Well, two can play at that game.

As the sun shines over the table where you’re sat on the deck, with the smell of lunch wafting heavily in the air, you’re suddenly consumed with the idea of getting him back today.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“Here you go, gorgeous! A special pâté served on seaweed with garlic, all plated with care for a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

You pick up your fork, finding the attention to detail he gives just a little funny. It's cute, anyway. You scoop a piece of the pâté from the seaweed, just to taste - the savory flavor is obvious, with some kind of roasted quality that forces a hum from your throat. You grin up at Sanji, your eyes flickering over his face with great interest.

“My compliments to the chef.” You respond, your tone a touch playful.

Sanji beams, and you swear you hear him giggle? For a man so confident in his craft, he can be a real dork when receiving compliments from women. This is going to be fun.

“Aw, I'm so glad you like it! There's plenty more where that came from for someone as beautiful and sweet as you! Oh - did you do something with your hair? The sunlight is catching it just right today, and-”

He's babbling, and definitely going overboard on the doting.

“Oh, brother…” Nami mumbles from her seat next to you, and you can hear Zoro scoffing from the railing nearby where he’s supposed to be taking a nap.

Everyone is just a little too aware of Sanji's actions, and even Robin suppresses a small chuckle. You shrug it off, though, giving Sanji a warm smile.

“We're very lucky to have you aboard as chef, huh? It's always dinner and a show.” You laugh, leaning your chin on your palm as you observe him. “With a great view, too. You ever think about getting into performing?”

Sanji stiffens, a hand moving to the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turn red. You can tell by his expression that he’s clearly caught off-guard, and probably just thinking you’re being extra friendly. It’s still clear the effects your comments are having on him.

“Well, of course not. I'm just a cook.” He laughs awkwardly, his tone still overly excited as he avoids your eyes. ��Why d'ya ask, princess?”

You stifle a giggle at the way he seems to get a little less confident.

“Oh, nothing. I'd just pay to see someone as handsome as you every night.” You reply simply, your smile widening into a grin.

“Seriously?” Nami mumbles from across the table, but you ignore it. Her annoyance at the scene isn't your problem.

Sanji doesn't grin, though. He freezes worse than before. You can see his curly brow twitching, and his mouth opens to speak. Nothing comes out, though, so it promptly shuts. The blush on his ears has slowly spread across his cheeks, and it brings out the color of his eyes in a way you haven’t noticed before.

You can't stifle the giggle this time. It rolls out, and Sanji clears his throat in an attempt to recover his demeanor. Even the giggle seems to have made his heart leap.

“W-Well, thank you, I'll-”

“And your hair looks better than mine today. Honestly, I'd love to run my fingers through it. You don't mind, do you?”

You reach a hand out to Sanji's sleeve, tugging on it gently to pull him closer. He doesn't move. Instead, he pulls his arm away, bringing it towards his face, which he turns the other direction. He’s covering the lower part of his face with his sleeve. What the hell? There were a lot of reactions you were expecting from Sanji, but that was not one of them.

”What’s wrong, Prince Chef? Can’t take what you dish out?” You tease.

”E-Excuse me!”

You watch Sanji stalk off, and you notice when he brings down his sleeve from his face that the once pristine-white fold over his coat is now red with what appears to be blood stains. Ah, so that’s what it was. You giggle to yourself, picking up your fork again and scooping some of the pâté. Damn, it really is good.

”Wow. I’ve never seen Sanji freeze up like that.” Nami says, and you can’t help but laugh a little louder.

“Just giving him a taste of his own medicine. Or, a taste of his own pâté.” You reply with a proud grin, leaning back in your seat. You take a bite, and the sound of Robin’s soft chuckle from across the table grabs your attention.

”You’d better be careful,” Robin chimes in, a soft smile on her lips. “You’re going to break his heart if you keep flirting with him like that.”

”Yeah, let her. Serves the idiot cook right for chasing everything in a skirt.” Zoro adds, not bothering to open his eye.

“Oh, come on. He can handle a little flirting. He’ll be alright.” You giggle, taking a bite from your fork.

Though the taste reminds you of Sanji, and how cute his blush was when you complimented his cooking. It was even cuter when you complimented his appearance. Just the thought of getting to see that look again stirs something in your chest that’s hard to pinpoint, but it grows as you fork another bite. Maybe, just maybe, the condition of Sanji’s heart in relation to you is something you’ll need to keep in mind.

#one piece #op #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #blackleg sanji x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #nami #robin #nico robin

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wannabeschyulersister · 8 months ago

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sleepy berzatto

Part of you didn’t want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful as he slept. For once, the anxieties of the day couldn’t mess with him.

He was still in his work clothes. You could tell that he meant to just rest his eyes for a few minutes before he fell into a deeper sleep. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport when your flight got in.

You touched his head lightly brushing his hair away from his face. It stirred him awake.

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled. He felt like he was in a dream.

“Yeah, it’s me, Carmy.”

When the realization hit, Carmen quickly stood up from the couch stumbling a bit. He was clearly still half asleep, “Fuck! I fell asleep. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Baby. I didn’t mean to-“

You reached out to steady him, “Carmen, relax. Michelle sent a car for me. They didn’t want to wake you.”

He took a deep breath and pulled you closer to him, “I’m sorry.” It felt so nice to be in his arms after weeks of not seeing him.

“Don’t be. I made it safely. We’re together again. That’s all that matters.” You rubbed your hand soothingly on his back. You didn’t want him stressing at all during your visit.

“How was your flight?” He asked as you took your coat off.

“It was fine. I read for most of it. I had the whole row to myself.”

He grabbed your coat and went to set it on the hook near the door. When he joined you on the couch, he quickly captured your lips with his. Now that he was fully awake, he could show you how much he missed you.

“Three weeks is too long for us to be apart, Berzatto.” You said before he kissed you again.

“I’ve been goin’ crazy wishing you were here with me.” Carmen confessed.

“I have too. Sugar is probably tired of hearing how much I’ve missed you everyday.”

Carmen chuckled, “She told me that she’s always happy to have you around. You’re the sister that she’s always wanted.”

Your heart soared at his comment. It meant a lot that Sugar enjoyed your company.

“Mikey invited me to dinner at The Beef two days ago. I went and spent some time with him. Richie and Tina ate with us also.”

Carmen was a little quiet, “That’s-that’s nice”

“It was nice, Bear. I enjoy hearing his stories.”

He nodded, “I’m glad you had a good time.”

You touched his face gently, “When is the last time you spoke to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders a little, “I think three weeks or somethin’.”

“He told me that he’s really proud of you. I am too. I’ve always been proud but when I get photos of the stuff you’re creating, it’s a whole new level.”

Carmen smiled sheepishly. Before you, he wasn’t great at receiving compliments. He could hand them out easily but when it was reversed, he just didn’t know how to handle it. The longer the two of you were together, he was getting better at it.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you, (Y/n).” Carmen said softly.

“I’m so happy to be cheering you on. I wish I could come visit more but work has been insane and I barely got the time to come for a few days now.”

Carmen placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it soothingly, “I feel bad that you’ve been doin’ all of the traveling to make sure that we see each other.”

“There will be a time when you’re the one having to come to me. I don’t mind it right now.”

Carmen kissed your forehead, “I don’t deserve you.”

It tore your heart piece by piece every time he confessed that. You hated that it was a thought in his mind.

“Yes, you do, Bear. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you. Until that day comes, I will continue to tell you until you finally believe me.”

You wrapped your arm around his midsection and rested your head on his chest. His hand automatically went to your hair. It was moments like this that he cherished the most. All of the stress and headaches were worth it for the moment to be sitting with the love of his life.

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x (y/n)#carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto

679 notes · View notes

doyoulikethis-videogame-song · 4 months ago

Text

Ask Masterpost 1/25/2025

I will be answering the BLOG RELATED asks that I have received since opening my inbox. Lucky number three this finally becomes consistent :).

I would like to state here that even though I don't respond to them (I'm persnickety about keeping ask spam low) I very much appreciate everyone's well wishes and compliments and gratefulness for this blog. I screenshot all of them and keep them in a folder. Thank you so much and I hope you keep having fun :).

@forrest-knight asked: Hello! I am here to ask for some clarification regarding the rules: “Songs from multimedia series that are primarily NOT video games (such as the Homestuck minigames, for example) will not be accepted.” I’m a bit confused with this rule, does this mean we’re not allowed to submit songs from licensed video games (aka games made for non video game media), even if the song is originally made for the game (ex. To The Moon from the DuckTales NES game). Or does this rule is intended for something completely different? *please note that I’ve never read homestuck, so this might relate to my confusion Anyways, thank you so much for doing this! And I hope you have a great whatever time you are reading this!

SO Homestuck was the only example I could think of at the time as a series that actually did this. I was specifically thinking about franchises/series/works that 100% did not start off intending to be a video game but, in the nature of being a multimedia series, added video game minigames or mobile games as it developed.

This is referring to things like homestuck (a webcomic that featured small browser/flash games within the comic), many idol gacha games** (hypnosis mic, love live), etc. This does not include series that were 'completed' (loosely used since I know many of these frequently get universe-expanding sequels and threequels and whathaveyou) and then had video game spinoffs, such as Star Wars, Marvel, etc.

** exceptions being tracks that are exclusively used in the video game itself, such as BGM.

I know this rule is probably the most complicated one and I'm still trying to figure out how to word it clearly and precisely LMAO. Fundamentally it comes down to intent, which is why I'm still on the fence some things like tracks used exclusively in promotional materials and things like that.

That being said: if the song is originally from a video game as in literally you can hear it while you are playing the video game you are totally in the clear

And according to your second ask (I won't name the songs in case you want to submit them): The one made for and coming from the NES game is fine (of course), AND the one that is the 8-bit version of the NON-VGM one is ALSO FINE, because it was REMIXED for the NES game :).

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**NUMEROUS QUESTIONS ABOUT PUTTING DISCLAIMERS ASKING PEOPLE NOT TO SPOIL THE SONGS**

The blind listening and polling period is just for fun! If someone really likes a song and wants to know what it is/where it's from, PLEASE feel free to tell them!!! And PLEASE always enter the notes with the expectation that there may be song spoilers!!

I will ask that you keep it in the TAGS rather than the comments or reblogs (you're more than welcome to DM people the title if they ask), just for the sake of people who might want to discuss the song without spoilers. I'll put that in the pinned and the (eventual...) formal rules.

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What's up! New here so sorry if this has been asked before but has the exact same song been submitted more than once before? Like it's clearly different people but the same song keeps getting submitted over and over again?

Ever since Mod Rae cleared duplicates I have no idea anymore, BUT I know there have been a lot of different submissions for a few select Disco Elysium songs. That doesn't shock me because I know it's got a cult following here :).

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do you get a lot of the same people in ur notes or is it like. a few of the same and then it branches out to fandoms where people know the song? or do u not pay attn to your notes at all (also fair)

I do read the notes (when I remember)! I really like hearing people's opinions, and I always look through the tags on songs I know (I find it really hilarious seeing 'is this dark souls?' 'is this nier?' on any orchestral ever). There are a lot of familiar faces but I'd say the majority for any given poll are new or sparsely in the notes :).

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Would you ever consider adding two more "i dont feel strongly/have an opinion" options to the polls? Specifically, "it sounds familiar and i dont have an opinion" and "ive def heard it before and dont feel strongly/have an opinion"? Of course, if theres a specific reason why you dont add those two as options, feel free to ignore this, ty <3

I've considered this -- but honestly, that button has always existed as more of a 'I just want to click a button' option than an actual datapoint I'm looking for (I think I might have answered an ask similar to this before but I don't remember so I'm answering it again LOL). When that option dominates, I always read the notes and tags for discussion and I'd encourage anyone who is genuinely interested to do the same. Actual complex opinions, of course, cannot be captured with the limitations of preset poll options anyways LMFAO.

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@mkcannothelpyou asked: I'm beginning to wonder if spacing series severely further apart and prioritising picks further down the queue that aren't as represented would make for a more interesting order - as it is, it feels like you can more or less still track what people submitted and when, with waves of series (and closely related works within those series, at that) coming in conspicuously densely. Hearing the same style only days apart might impact poll results for the negative as time goes on.

This was mostly the fault of me allowing people to submit multiple songs at once, leading to songs with similar qualities (as they are all liked by one person with a particular taste) being grouped together, even if they're from different series. I limit submissions to one per period now so this will not be a problem in the future :').

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@the-mayor-of-space asked: how long do submissions typically stay open once they are open?

I originally wanted to have them permanently opened (thinking people wouldn't mind waiting for their submissions) until I got an insane amount of submissions, severely underestimating the popularity of this blog. I then tried to do a 24 hr submission period, and then a 12 hr submission period, but both of these still ended up with a fuck ton of submissions so the current answer is 'They're closed until I can figure out something proper'...

I don't want purging the existing submissions to be on the table, but if I get to the 1 year anniversary of this blog without a better option I might have to go that route -- in which case I'd probably publish all the unposted options so people know if theirs was cut so they know to resubmit it if they're still interested.

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**NUMEROUS QUESTIONS ABOUT HOW FAR BACK THE SUBMISSIONS ARE**

WE'RE FINALLY IN AUGUST!!!!!!!!

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are fan/non official/non licensed versions of songs allowed? because i am 100% certain #293 is a fan made remaster and medley arrangement (im not the submitter but i know the song well - i found the youtube video the audio is from and the comments from OP confirm it is a fan remix). if they are, that's totally cool, but i couldn't find anything in the submission rules about it. i dont intend this ask to be rude or hostile at all, and either way im grateful you've created such an active community with this blog!

They're not really allowed unless they're from a mod or fangame. Since it's a fanmade remaster it's kind of towing the line, so I'm not inherently against it, but it might end up just being a highly situational thing.

Note: I'm not familiar with Fire Emblem at ALL but I knew this particular song was from an older game, which is why I wasn't opposed to posting the remastered version. In any future submissions I'd appreciate if this sort of thing were indicated just in case! I will add that to the submission guidelines :). And of course if there's a better way to go about this (i.e if the game is like, 30+ years old fanmade remasters/upscales are permitted or something like that) I will make sure that's made clear as well :).

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sorry if you've answered this before but I was just wondering, are people allowed to submit spoiler songs for the polls? like final boss songs and songs from endings and secret endings

Absolutely! But I think for all future submissions (this doesn't apply now since there's a huge backlog) I might put a hold on the submissions of OSTS from new games for like 1-2 months (i.e No Mario Kart 9 OSTs until two months after the game drops!) so people who are playing/going to play the game have time to play it before hearing the OSTs unprompted.

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@its-daisukenojobito asked: Just out of curiosity, do you prefer the more obscure submissions, or more well known? I feel like for the sake of reach, the more well known the better, but as a participant, i love being able to hear something I wasn't expecting, and knowing it!

I have no preference, but it's always fun hearing good stuff from games and series I've literally never heard of!

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@venonomnomicon asked: am i allowed to DM to check the status of a submission? it was a couple of months ago though i do respect it's probably just deep in the queue as you get hundreds of submissions a month lol

Absolutely, but you'll have to DM my main blog (@himejoshi) because apparently tumblr doesn't let you have DMs when you have more than one blog admin.

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@royvalentine asked: is the form supposed to be only submittable once?

Yes, so people would only submit one song per submission period. I intended to make a new form for every submission period... There just hasn't been one since.

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hi question, do pinball tables count as video games?

I don't think I have enough experience to answer this question... What do y'all think????

#vgpollasks #vgmpaskpost #not a vgmusic poll

113 notes · View notes

goorgeousz · 6 days ago

Text

(no) underwear | emily prentiss underwear trilogy

(no) underwear | emily prentiss

underwear trilogy

18+ MDNI

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader

summary: you go on a date, but all you can think about is emily. so you have no other option than to confront her about it.

content/tw: smut, oral sex (E receiving), thigh riding, fingering, nipple play, FxF sex, if there’s anything else lmk

word count: 4k

a/n: it took me long enough, but it’s finally here!!!!! thank you for all the love on part one and part two, and thank you for the patience!!! I’ve been going through a lot these last couple weeks, but I’m BACK! And a special thank you for @mrsines for the idea and for checking up on me these past days, you’re so sweet!!! Again, I’m sorry it took me this long, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out, I hope it’s up to your guys expectations!! I’ll stop yapping, brace yourself this is smutty smut!!!

Tag list @inlovewithjemily @snoopyaah @chestnutninny @piiinco @maryann1204 @babybeeelle

part one

part two

main masterlist

dividers: @uzmacchiato

He was a 10, but didn’t compliment your shoulders.

That was your take on the date you were currently coming home from. It was a great night, honestly. As perfect as a first date could be. He was prettier than the pictures, didn’t let the conversation die, not even once. Treat you like a real gentleman. Get there earlier than you, choose your favorite wine (you tweeted about it once), pull your chair out for you. Paid the bill before it even got to the table. He listened to you, actually seemed interested in you (which isn’t a lot, but a real surprise when it came to dating these days). He complimented you many times: about your intelligence, your appearance, your taste in food.

But not your shoulders.

And that sealed the deal.

—

Emily was at your place, helping you pick an outfit for the date. After about an hour of dissecting your closet from inside out, you narrowed your search down to two options.

So, as you were panicking to choose between two (very similar, mind you) tops, as one does, Emily stepped up, watching you explain the pros and cons from each one from the mirror.

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, analysing your entire figure like a pro. It kind of helped ease your nervousness.

“So, this one or the other?” you asked her, your voice tired and hopeless. She stepped closer, stopping just behind you, her eyes burning holes on your skin. You hoped she didn’t take too long in whatever the hell she was doing, because if she stared a bit longer she might notice you shaking.

“Definitely this one.” Emily stated, finally meeting your eyes in an assertiveness that instantly convinced you “It brings out your shoulders, they’re very athletic.”

“They are?” you repeat her words weakly, suddenly paying attention to your shoulders. She was right, the collar of that specific top flattered that area, and your shoulders were indeed beautiful. It was always like this: whenever Emily mentioned something to you, that specific thing seemed to be highlighted in neon lights. Her words worked like a spell on you, every single time.

“Oh, absolutely.” she emphasized it by grazing her fingertips along your shoulder blades. “You have gorgeous shoulders, I can’t believe no one ever told you.”

—

So, no. He didn’t compliment your shoulders.

It pissed you off. And it pissed you off that you were pissed off about that guy not mentioning how athletic your shoulders look in the first place. You had only Emily to blame.

For that exact (and only) reason, you found yourself giving the taxi driver Emly’s address instead of yours.

Your mind raced with thoughts, and by the time the car pulled up to Emily’s building, you’d made up your mind. She was going to pay for whatever spell she’d put on you.

The five flights of stairs you took didn't register on your brain, you spent those minutes rehearsing the speech you were about to give her. You had everything in order, all the words perfectly arranged to give her the talk of your life.

You took a minute to catch your breath because there was no way you would speak your heart out and have a heart attack in between sentences. This was too important.

So, after taking a few deep breaths and repeating the speech one last time on your head, you knocked on her door. Three loud bangs, to which you instantly cringed at the sound. It was way too late for that. But you puffed out your chest, you were going to own it.

It took Emily half a minute to open the door.

It took you one single glance at her to forget every single word you worked so hard to memorize.

She wore a skin tight white tank top (no bra!!!!!!), molding the curve of her perky breasts in a way that belonged to a museum. In a poor job to cover herself, she wore teeny-tiny plaid patterned pajama shorts. If you leaned down you were sure you could see her underwear peeking out from under it. That’s it, if she was even wearing underwear. You decided to not go down that rabbit hole.

“Hey, weren’t you supposed to be on a date?” she asked, seemingly glad to see you but confused.

“Yeah, we had a problem...”

Wrong choice of words to say to an FBI agent.

Her posture changed, her face giving place to a scowl while she instantly reached for her gun and badge on the entryway table.

“What kind of problem? Are you hurt?”

“NO! No, not that kind of problem. The date was fine, I’m fine.” you quickly explained, motioning for her to go back inside.

“Oh, thank god.” she muttered, putting back her belongings. You were too nervous to laugh at her instincts “What’s wrong, then?”

You took a deep breath, stared deep into her eyes, threw away the beautiful and grammarly correct speech you mentally wrote and just said whatever came to mind.

“You mentioned my underwear that time at the bar and my brain completely collapsed ever since. I know you’re just jokingly flirting and that’s what friends do and you probably don't even flinch when you do it, but every time you guess the color of my panties I swear to god all I can think about is you taking it off of me. With your teeth, when I’m ovulating. It’s driving me insane.”

Emily stared at you in surprise at your word vomiting. She opened her mouth and then closed. Once, twice. Nothing came out. Her eyes darted to a point behind you, to where she nodded and tried a tight smile.

“Mrs. Nolan, hi. Have a good night.” you widen your eyes, whipping your head around to find the elderly woman walking past behind you, the red burning on her cheeks contrasting comically to the white of her fluffy hair. “We should probably head inside.” Emily mumbled, taking your attention off of a very scandalized Mrs. Nolan.

You mumbled an apology, tilting your head down and stumbling inside Emily’s apartment. While trying not to bang your head into a wall in embarrassment, you hear her closing and locking the front door.

In Emily’s defense, she’s really trying not to laugh.

In your defense, she’s not doing a very good job.

“Stop.”

“I’m sorry!” she interrupted, her bubbly laugher finally making its way out of her mouth. The sight of her trying to cover up her face with her hands but only managing to laugh louder eventually cracks you, and you chuckle as well.

The two of you spend a moment just looking at each other and laughing at the insanity of the situation.

“Can we start over?” she asked, when her laughter finally died down.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Please don’t take it back.” she murmures, and it sounds so desperate and bare, you cannot find it in yourself to do it “Did you mean it?”

You took a deep breath “I did.”

Emily sighed like she’d been holding her breath for ages. She stepped closer, her hand sneaking up your cheek. You stared deeply into her eyes, trying to say everything you wanted to but couldn’t. She bit her lower lip, like she was holding herself back, while she searched for confirmation in your eyes. She was hungry, you could see it. You could feel it in the air. You only hoped she knew it wasn’t one-sided.

Whatever evidence of your desire she was looking for, she must’ve found it. Because the next thing you knew, her lips touched yours. They were soft, moist and gentle. Everything you hoped for but somehow so much more.

You held her waist into an embrace, deepening the kiss. You heard her hum into your mouth, her tongue grazing your lips like she was testing the waters before diving in. The kiss turned from chaste to deep within a second. It was hungry, but sure. Not desperate, but full of emotions. You kissed like you’ve done it your entire lives. Like you were meant to do it. And eventually, when air was made extremely necessary, you pulled back in sync. But not all the way, not letting go of each other. Emily rested her forehead on yours, both of your breathing uneven, eyes searching in each other the confirmation that it happened, that it was real. You were real.

“Hi.” she whispered, her hands squeezing your shoulders. You giggled “Hi.”

The two of you stared at each other for a while longer, until she pulled back, her hands finding comfort on the dips of your waist, holding you close enough for your bodies to keep touching, but far enough that you could see her face.

“I assume the date wasn’t great, then.”

“Wrong.” you smiled, finding it way too pleasing to correct her “It was amazing. It was also awful. It’s all your fault.” she laughed, knowing by your tone that you were just being dramatic and everyone (you, really) was safe and sound.

“Please tell me what harm could I’ve possibly done from the safety of my bedroom.”

You blushed at the thought of what she was doing in her bedroom.

“You ruined me. You flirt with me, and you spoil me. You compliment my shoulders, for Christ's sake. You treat me so well, no one could ever me enough. You ruined me.” you accused, smiling. She laughed loudly, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“Guilty.” you laughed, letting go of the embrace to smack her slightly on the shoulder “Earlier you mentioned I was jokingly flirting with you. I need to clarify: I wasn’t joking around. Not once. I've been crazy about you for ages. I was fine with being friends, I really do love our friendship. But I was flirting. Heavily.”

“Yeah?” you asked breathlessly, your heart drumming loudly on your chest. She smiled.

“Yeah. And on a serious note: your shoulders do look incredible.” you rolled your eyes, chuckling. “I mean it. I just want to… Can I?” you nodded eagerly, not having a clue of what she was talking about. She seemed to pick up on your desperation, smirking at you like a predator.

Emily leaned down, using a hand to pull your hair back, giving her plain sight of your clavicle. She sighed, her eyes darkening at the sight of your skin. She dipped her head, pepping kisses every inch her mouth could touch.

The strangled sound you let out was so loud you were sure her neighbors heard it. Her mouth worked wonders on your neck, your hands grasping on her hair for dear life, pulling her in while shoving your torso onto her at the same time.

It was like Emily saw right through you, knowing where to touch, to kiss and to press to get you worked up. And the best part was that it didn’t feel like she was doing it to please you. At least not entirely. She was doing it entirely for herself, like she was out of air and your skin was her oxygen.

Before you noticed, the two of you stumbled around into the living room, the back of your knee bumping against the couch until you fell seated on it. Emily giggled, stradling your hips and grabbing your face between her hands, kissing you passionately again.

“I’ve been dreaming of doing this for so long.” she whispers, between kisses. You feel her fingers grazing the hem of your shirt, and you hesitate for a moment. She feels it instantly “Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah… It’s just… You’re my first. I’ve never been… with a girl.”

Her eyes sparkled with a dangerous glint.

“You know we don’t have to do anything, right?” you nodded.

“I want to. If you want it too.” she smiles, leaning in again and kissing you hungrier. It was all the answer you could hope for.

This time, you didn’t wait for her to take the lead, you took your shirt off in a swit motion, letting it drop somewhere behind the couch. Emily looked at you stunned, a mist of disbelief and anticipation. She climbed off of your lap, her hands diving down to the buttons of your pants.

“Please…” you whispered when she hesitated, pushing her hand more firmly on you. Her breath hitched, and she started working on taking off your pants. You lifted your hips, your eyes glued to her face, her mouth kissing every bit of newly exposed skin.

With your shoes, pants and top already discarded around the living room, she seated back and stared at your body in awe, taking in the sight of your skin shining under the lacy set you picked out for the evening.

“There’s no way you did all this for him.” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

“I was thinking about you the whole time.” you meant it. You didn’t even realize how truthful your words were until you heard them coming out of your mouth.

Those words and the truth behind them lighted up something inside Emily. The way her eyes darkened was the last thing you saw before she close to jumped on you, the force of the impact making the two of you fall laid on the couch, her body on top of yours, her kisses hungrier and wetter than before.

You took advantage of your position, your hands roaming up and down her torso, grabbing the flash of her thighs and drowning at how soft she felt. It looked like a dance, you moving in synchrony and at the same time messily, trying to keep it going for as long as possible and racing to reach the long awaited relief.

With all the tossing and turning, eventually you found yourself laid flat on your back, with Emily curled up on your side, one of her legs on top of yours and her hand travelling all over your body. She latched on your neck, and her kissing and biting left you a moaning mess, back arching out of the couch and your hips grinding on her thigh.

“You’re so beautiful.” she says, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. Her hands play with your bra, tracing the lacy patterns with a feather-like touch. The softness of her touch made your body burn in need. She keeps up the torture for a bit longer before finally pushing the fabric down, freeing your breasts and playing with each of them attentively. She flicks both your nipples, relishing at how hard they were.

You grabbed her leg, placing it firmly across your legs and grinding against it, using her knee as a personal dildo against your core. Emily groaned at your desperation “Needy, aren’t we?” she managed to say, her voice as breathless as you. You moaned in response, only grinding harder.

Not wanting to be in your way, she let you explore your body (and hers) however you wanted. She loved being used by you, and even though there was nothing more she wanted than to pin you down and explore every inch of your body, she let you have it. It was just the beginning, after all.

She murmured praises to your ear, paying attention to what made you moan louder, eager to learn your wants and needs. All the biting, kissing, sucking she worked on your neck while whispering the most delicious words combined with her caresses on your chest was sending you over the edge faster than it ever did. When he felt your movements going sloppier, Emily flexed her thigh, grinding down harder on your clothered cunt, helping you reach your peak, and just like that, your orgasm crashed down on you. Hard.

You moaned loudly, repeating her name like a mantra and digging your nails at her thigh, leaving marks that would take long to heal.

She stayed right there, stroking you and murmuring praises and soft kisses to your cheek while you climbed out your high, breathless.

When your breath finally evened out, you turned your head to the side, staring at her with wide eyes. She looked at you hesitantly, like you were about to run away from her at any moment. You let go of her leg, letting one of your hands dart up on her face, using your thumb to massage her frown off of her face. You leaned closer, giving her a long peck on her lips.

She sighed against your mouth, her body instantly relaxing in relief.

“Can we move to your bed?”

The smile she gave you could probably stop a word war.

The two of you stumbled along the hallway to her bedroom, stopping only to get rid of her remaining clothes.

Emily sat on the edge of her bed, only her white cotton underwear on. Her body glowed under the light of her bedside table, an unfinished book left upside down on her pillow. You took your time admiring the sight before you, and felt she was doing the same to you.

Without one ounce of hesitation on your mind, you stepped closer, watching in awe the way she parted her legs to fit you between them. Your eyes were immediately drawn by her thighs, the sight of the nail marks you left on the right one startled you for a second, followed by a wave of pride and possessiveness.

“I’m sorry.” you muttered, biting your lower lip to contain a smile. She snorted.

“You don’t sound sorry.” she teases. You lift your gaze back to her face, feeling relieved by her look of amusement. Losing herself in her eyes made you forget what you thought was so funny moments ago, the urge to feel her closer being too strong to ignore.

“I’m not sure about what I’m doing.” you started, hating the way your cheeks blushed in embarrassment. Her hands cupped your face, giving you a kiss.

“We’ll take it slow.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up.” you admitted, your voice weak.

“You won’t.” she guaranteed “Just do whatever you want. Anything.” and it sounded more like a plea than an instruction. So you listened.

Taking her face in your hands, you closed your distance in a steamy kiss. Your tongue immediately found its way back into her mouth, getting rewarded with a sound so strangled and beautiful it made you shiver. Your hands roamed everywhere, her arms, her hands, her torso, her breasts. You cupped each one of her tits, squeezing and massaging them like you wanted to memorize its feeling when you were gone. She arched her back towards you, her legs tensing and moving around looking for something to ground themselves on.

You kept yourself from leaving a mark on her neck, but wasn’t so kind to her chest, biting, sucking, liking and kissing the thin flesh there. She shoved her tits into your mouth, holding your face close to her while letting the most beautiful sounds. You knew she was impatient and was in desperate need of relief, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

Her skin tasted addictively, you were sure you wouldn’t forget the way it felt so soft against your tongue even after years. You found yourself pushing her further into the bed, your kisses making their way down into her stomach, getting lower by the second. The way she squirmed under you only boosted your confidence, and there was no room for second thoughts on your mind, only desire.

“It’s this o…”

“Yes!” she yelped before you could actually ask the question, staring at your hands gripping at the side of her panties, like she could make you move by the power of her glance only. Turns out she could, so you moved the fabric down her toned legs slowly but surely, not hesitating in the slightest.

Your mouth watered at the sight, Emily laid down on display fully naked, begging for you. A sight you only let yourself dream about late in the night, when there was no one watching. Where no one could judge, not even yourself. As if you weren’t deserving of it. And there she was, in all of her glory, looking up at you with so much lust and adoration you swore you could do anything.

She parted her legs, her eyes darkened watching you every breath, and you opened your mouth without realizing

“You’re so pretty, Em.” you managed, leaning closer like you were under a spell. Your fingers darted on her slit, collecting her wetness and watching her reaction. She threw her head back, her hips jerking up in such desperation you should pity her. But you really didn’t.

Watching attentively her face, you started to learn quickly which kind of movements got the best reactions out of her, and by the time you let yourself kiss her there, she was definitely getting a noise complaint the morning after.

She begged, hummed, moaned your name, praising you about how good you were making her feel. You introduced two fingers inside of her, and she actively started riding your face.

“Come here” she demanded, her voice hoarse but still firm. You looked up confused, following her lead when she sat up to reach your lower back and push your hips closer to her hands. You sat awkwardly at her right side by her hips, her hands pushing your face back down to her pussy like she wanted to feast on her body. Already used to being bossed around by her, you immediately returned to your lapping at her cunt.

That’s when you felt her hand making its way between your legs, spreading them apart and quickly pushing your underwear to the side again, diving right back into your already too wet slit.

You laid down further to grant her access, and the two of you ended up in a kind of a sixty-nine position, with her hand working on you instead of your mouth. She shoved her fingers into your slit, making you moan loudly with your mouth glued to her. She felt the sound deep into her, her free hand pushing your head harder into her cunt.

“Right there, shit.” she begged “You’re so good to me, eating me up like that.” you moaned, lapping at her clit like a starved caveman. She nearly screamed, the heel of her hand pressing your clit while her fingers curved inside of you, hitting that sweet spot every time she moved them.

You felt Emily clench on your fingers, and you knew she could feel you doing the same “I’m so close, keep doing that. Can you come with me, pretty girl?” she asked, her voice completely out of breath. You just hummed, grinding down on her hand hoping this was enough of a response, not daring to take your mouth off of her. She chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

In any other moment, your eyes would roll at how cocky she was being. But right now, they were rolling for a completely different reason, and Emily was completely right to be cocky when she made you come that hard for a second time. She came right after you, her legs shaking so wildly you had to hold them down to help her ride it out with your tongue.

When the two of you climbed down off your heights, you pulled back from her, leaving one last kiss on her clit that made her squirm away. You laughed, and she pulled you by your arm to lay down closer to her.

She held you closer, caressing your cheek. You took in the flush of her cheeks, the thin layer of sweat covering her face and body, a few strands of her bang wet and glued to her forehead.

“Hi.” you whispered.

She giggled back, “Hi, pretty girl.” leaning in and giving you a kiss. Not a hungry and desperate one: it was passionate and slow.

It was a promise: this isn’t over.

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ilwonuu · 1 year ago

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hiii love all of your work btw!!

hear me out please!, this might be a long one😭

okay so you and jaehyun (or whatever idol you may want to use) are best friends. and have been since childhood! your a dancer and he’s a idol so your schedules are complicated. your very close with each other’s families. so one day you visit his mom like usual and surprisingly he is there with his group visiting home too, which you didn’t know he was visiting. you guys are excited to see each other and everyone can see your chemistry ( you get introduced to everyone) but you guys say y’all are “best friends” even his family see it. y’all flirt. (a lot) boom spend the night smut and boom😭😭😭.

(ik it’s a lot i’m sorry😭)

thank u for saying u enjoy my work ily<3 NO NO ITS NOT A LOT ITS OERFECT KSJSHA,,, i love this idea and of course i love rhis idea with jaehyun ehehshs!! i hope u enjoy,,, thank youu for requesting <3

multiply

⤑ jeong jaehyun

𖤓 pairing- best friends to lovers, idol!jaehyun x nonidol!femreader, softdom!jae x sub!reader, established friendship

𖤓 warnings- lots of cringe flirting, kissing, fingering(f receiving), dirty talk, slight smut heheheheh(dw lmk if you want another smut part), lmk what else<333

𖤓 a/n- hiiiii im fulfilling my lovely anon’s ask!!! im so happy that u requested something!! i based this fic off of some of the lyrics from this song<3 thank u for reading🙃🙃

you almost cry after finding out about your 4 days off. you’ve been working yourself to the core with dancing. of course it’s something you love but you really need a break. you decide to go your best friends house. you know he isn’t going to be be there but it’s fine because you’re just as close with his family. his mother always being there for you whenever you needed. today you could use the company. you knock on the door a couple times waiting for her to open the door. to your surprise your very handsome best friend opens the door with a big smile.

“get in here.” he pulls you into a big hug. “jae? you didn’t tell me you were free!” you roll your eyes at him, letting go of him to greet his mother. you hug her with a smile. “i came to see you.” you smile getting comfortable a little more. you wave to the other guys in the room. “hi guys! i’m y/n nice to finally meet you all. i’ve heard a lot.” jaehyun smiles as he introduces each of the members to you.

“yea we have heard a lot too!” haechan smirks at you and jaehyun, causing johnny and mark to snicker at him. “you’re so pretty!” jungwoo says after you compliment his outfit. you smile knowing that you two will be great friends. exchanging numbers with the guys as you and jaehyun basically have the same friends. jaehyun pulls your attention back to him when he grabs your hand.

“so you guys are friends?” yuta asks looking as you guys intensely. “yea- best friends.” you smile at jaehyun. they see right through what you guys are telling yourselves. “definitely.” doyoung says as he laughs at how red jaehyun got at the question. “okay! are you guys hungry?” mrs. jeong cuts the silence with a smile.

after dinner, you and jaehyun spent the night watching your favorite childhood movies laughing and fucking flirting. how could you not flirt with the boy? it’s hard having a hot best friend (a lot of people suffer from this!!!) he has you in his arms as he mindlessly rubs your sides. you are melting in his arms. “i missed you.” he says taking your attention from the movie.

“i missed you more jae.” you smile at him. he blushes hard at the gesture. “no like i seriously couldn’t wait to see you. i couldn’t stop thinking of you.” he holds you tighter. “ew you’re being cheesy all of a sudden.” you playfully push him away. “shut up you love it baby.” you choke on your spit. baby?? what the fuck he never calls you baby. obviously because you guys are just friends,,,,definitely! “im just messing with you.” he smiles at you innocently.

“you’re annoying.” he shakes his head. “you don’t really think so, you like me too much.” he kisses your cheek and at first it seems sweet until he moves his kisses down your jaw. “is this okay?” your breath hitches as he holds you in place. “jaehyun- what are you doing?” you look at him nervously. “tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop right now.” he rubs your side gently. “no- i want this.” you nod at him and he smiles.

“relax baby.” he helps you out of your shorts leaving you in just your panties. your back is against his chest as you rest between his legs. “look at me- good girl.” he smiles at you pulling you to kiss him. “i’ve wanted you like this for so long.” his voice is quiet as it leaves his lips. he’s been trying to ignore his feelings as were you. anyone could see that you guys were more than friends.

“kiss me again.” you sighed against his chest. he chuckles a little kissing your cheek before turning your head to kiss your lips. you moan into the kiss as your legs spread. his hand snakes to your thighs rubbing it gently.

“jaehyun- touch me.” you whisper to him. he nods at you pecking your lips. you grab his hand to move it higher against your thigh. he just smirks at you teasingly. “you’ve been thinking about this for a while huh baby? my hands touching you like this?” he teases as he moves your panties to the side.

“look at how wet you are just from me talking to you.” you nod shamelessly laying your head back on him. you feel one of his fingers sink into your aching cunt. “dirty girl, you are soaking.” he smirks at you as he adds another finger inside of you. “feels so good.” you sigh at the feeling. he scissors his fingers inside of you making you moan out his name. “mm jaehyun-“ you start to squirm as you get closer to your high.

“yea, you gonna cum baby?” he kisses your neck as he curls his fingers. you cum undone on his fingers with a sigh. “fuck you’re perfect.” he pulls you into a kiss. “do best friends finger each other?” jaehyun asks with a laugh causing you to roll your eyes at him. “you ruined the moment.” he smirks at you. “come here baby.” he pulls you into his arms before smothering you in kisses. “i want you to be my girlfriend, not my best friend.”

#jaehyun fic #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun #nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #nct u

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angelmush · 2 months ago

Text

hosting my gf’s school friends for a spring cafe study party. she had such a fun idea to serve them fun themed beverages while they get grad school work done. she had the genius idea to decorate the apartment like a coffee shop and doodle a menu and everyone can bring their favorite mugs!! my gf is in charge of drinks and i’ve been delegated the bakery :))

here’s a rough outline of what ill be making:

- i’m baking croissants from scratch for the first time!!! it’s already been daunting but we have trader joe’s dough on standby in case they suck LOL but i’m trying to be confident and trust myself and learn as much as i can

- i’m making a spiced carrot loaf cake w goat cheese frosting that i’ve made before. it’s my FAVE!! effort to tastiness ratio is great and it’s so spring-y and on theme

- i have made brown butter miso dark chocolate chip cookies w pretzels and toffee for this group of people for prior events and received the most compliments ive ever gotten for my food in my LIFE so i had to make them some more to take home since they were such a hit

- a lemon poppyseed brioche bun thing, kind of like a giant cast iron cinnamon roll but w spring flavors instead (i’m most excited for this one ive been wanting to make it foreverrrrrr)

- also serving some cut fruits for the spring vibe :)

then for drinks, i’m not a coffee drinker at all so my gf is obvs the barista:

- we have matcha, chai concentrate, lemonade, and coffee

- our various special springy flavors include vanilla orange w optional candied orange wheels and fresh zest, lavender, rose, strawberry rose w optional fresh strawberries, and regular vanilla

- also pineapple and passion fruit spindrift because Yum

#i’m rly excited i have a week between my job transition right now so dedicating all my time to my kitchen now that i can finally cook again #trying to fall back in love with it #and to help my gf do something fun w her friends!!!#bc she’s wonderful and smart and they are all working so hard and deserve to have treats!!!!!!!!#grad school is crazy i simply cannot imagine LOL but they r all doing wonderfully #personal

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itsabouttimex2 · 10 months ago

Note

Hope you’ve been well! I’ve done nothing but lurk on thin internet for years so this may be my first request on any platform. And it’s about a Lego monkey😭

With that said, can I get a romantic yandere Wukong with big feels for his exasperated lawyer? Or just and exasperated reader in general if you want lol

Can’t Fool You

(Well, I hope to receive more requests from you in the future! And I’m here writing about that monkey, so… we’re in the same boat!)

By now, you have your own little “everything” in his house.

Your own snacks. Your own mug. Your own “spot�� on the worn-out couch.

And all three are conveniently laid out in front of you, an enticing spread of exotic and varied chocolates laid out next to your trusty porcelain stein, filled to the brim with a steaming brew. The couch cushion has been dusted and sprayed with a floral perfume. Your case files are neatly stacked on the edge of table.

This is probably the cleverest trap he’s created yet- not that it’s nearly enough to fool you.

“Sun Wukong, reveal yourself this instant.”

The Great Sage has learned by now that there’s no real way to argue with you, not unless he wants to spend this lovely afternoon sitting awkwardly on his knees, receiving a very lengthy lecture about wasting your time with petty and ill-built debates.

So instead he sounds a very lengthy whine, groaning and huffing as golden light emanates from the cushion placed right before the enticingly decorated table. It shifts and bends and sparks, slowly reforming into the Great Sage that you had come to know and tolerate.

“Bud, you always see right through me,” he compliments, though there’s still the edge of a soft whine through those honeyed words. He’s growing impatient with the lack of skinship and affection. “How could you tell?”

“Sun Wukong, the real cushion is clearly sticking out from behind the couch, you didn’t bother to clean any other part of the couch, and I heard you giggling as I came through the door!”

“Aww, hun!” He coos, disregarding every single time you had told him to refer to you by first or last name. “You’re SO smart!”

From another mouth it might’ve sounded sarcastic or demeaning. Maybe even spiteful. But in those five words alone has Wukong loaded love, admiration, devotion, and obsession.

“This is why I picked you as my lawyer, hun.”

No the hell it’s not, you want to say. And that would be true- you were picked as his lawyer because no one else could:

1. Stomach his constant jokes and tomfoolery

2. Work around dozens of mischievous and rowdy monkeys

3. Reliably out-scream Ne Zha

And you only kept working at this tedious job because he provided free boarding and food, and spoiled you with treasures. It was an unorthodox manner of payment, but stupidly lucrative.

You won a case. He “paid” you with an ancient relic. You took it to an antiques dealer. They considered scamming or skimping, then caught sight of Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. They paid you fairly.

And you walked away with heavy pockets.

It made for a good routine.

And you could tolerate that chaotic and breakneck lifestyle right up until you came “home” and had to spend half the night warding off both Wukong and his little troop of monsters from your bed.

Those little white-furred monkeys…

“They think you’re their other grandparent,” he had said once, dumping half a troop into your bed beside you as you protested and argued about their thieving hands and loud mouths. “Since you spend so much time with me, hun.”

“Then tell them I’m not.”

“Sorry, Y/N. Too late~”

…it had taken you two hours to pick out all the white strands of monkey hair, and an hour more to clear the smell. You had sworn to put up spikes, wire, fences- anything to prevent

Only to go soft at the begging of a baby; the runt of her troop, and allow her to settle on your pillow as you worked.

Damn the weakness of your heart- it had been a major mistake on your part.

You ended up throwing that pillow away after a very characteristic “monkey mess”, burning it in broad daylight and scattering the ashes amongst Flower Fruit Mountain’s fertile soil.

Ugh.

A muscular hand falls on either of your shoulders, directing you forward- Wukong’s replaced the old cushion and decorated it with silk pillows and peach blossom petals, and even taken the time to light a candle.

He nudges until you’ve reached the seat, then- perhaps with more force than intended- pushes you onto the couch.

“Wukong!” You call in anger, planting both hands firmly onto the furniture to steady yourself, making a move to stand- only for the Great Sage to throw himself into your open lap with a smile. His fur tickles at your thighs, a snug coat of ginger to warm your legs.

“…Sun Wukong, remove yourself from my lap this-“

“Aw, peaches! How can you be so mean to lil’ ol me? I just wanna spend some time with my favorite lawyer!”

“I am your only lawyer, because no one else can put up with your nonsense!”

“That’s what makes you so special to me, peaches.”

It’s a statement that manages to be vulnerable through its own simplicity, straightforward and sincere. If you had been standing, perhaps your knees would have buckled in surprise.

But you can’t, because Sun Wukong is splayed across you with all the might of a warrior, a king, a bogus immortal. He nestles closer, nearly purring in delight with each rub from his cheeks to your thighs.

One hand, clawed and built strong- sharply moves to grip at your wrist. Though you futilely try to pull away, he effortlessly yanks it to his head.

“Pet me,” he whines. “Please, peaches…?”

You pause, and consider the request. The relationship you share is already unprofessional, bordering on unhealthy at both ends. His obsessive nature comes through frequently enough…

The king barges in on your meetings with other clients to ruin them. He nuzzles your suits and dresses against himself until they bear his scent. He wards off friends and family alike- by being so exuberant and “accidentally” destructive that they fearfully retreat.

And you’ve allowed it this long, haven’t you? You could’ve left, or rejected him, or at least told him to stop… but no such words had ever left your lips.

And now that Wukong had settled into the routine that you allowed him to build, it felt like a wall, a cage, a web all around you.

Which brick to pull? Which bar to rattle? Which thread to cut?

This constrainment had built itself high, feeling like an ever-present gilded collar tight around your throat.

Shelter. Food. Money. Love.

He provided it all and more without hesitation- and all you had to do was play along, to some small degree. He could take rebuffs and insults and discouragement, could sit with a wagging tail through your lectures, could handle you kicking him out of your bed every night…

And he’d still come back for more.

You lower your hand to Wukong’s forehead. Under the fur, there’s a deep indent- it feels like a band once sat there. He perks, eagerly pressing his head upwards to savor the touch.

This is all you have to do. This earns you your room, your pay, your food and drink… more than any of your services as a lawyer, or your fervent legal defense of his character…

All that really matters to him is you, your time and attention.

You pet his head. He purrs.

In time, he’s sure that you’ll love him as much as he loves you.

And he has all the time in the world to wait for it.

#Romantic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong

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penkura · 1 year ago

Text

last forever [9/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: Post-timeskip, go let's go. Of course, they're a little older now, we know Zoro is 21, so Reader is now 20. :) This chapter IS shorter than the others that are left, but that just means we're getting into the better parts of the story. I really can't wait for you all to see what's next. :)

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7] ● [Ch. 8]

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt such strong anxiety about seeing people, not since the last time you’d met with your parents’ chosen fiancé for you, but it’s come back in spades at the thought of seeing your crew again after two years.

At the thought of seeing Zoro again, more than anything.

The thought of him deciding to dissolve your marriage when he sees you again is the main source of your anxiety, what you try to push away as you leave the lovely group of swordswomen who took care of you for the last two years, those who you’d told about your situationship with Zoro wishing you the best as they dropped you off. You hope no one is jinxing anything, but still feel nervous every time you see someone or something that could be Zoro as you go about, looking for things to purchase and for your friends.

When Nami and Usopp find you, the happiness between the three of you makes all your worries and anxieties dissipate for the time being. Both hug you so tightly, a three-person group hug, you almost cry out of happiness at seeing them again, before Nami starts fawning over how you look so much stronger yourself. She can’t believe how different you seem! She adores your outfit of course, a fitted tank top with knee-length shorts to match and ankle boots, your beloved sword from Elias still attached to your hip. You tell her how wonderful she looks, giving Usopp the same compliment as the three of you start making your way towards Sunny, running into a distraught Chopper who you’re able to calm down after an explanation of the fake Starw Hats on Sabaody.

Chopper gives you a big hug and lets you carry him the rest of the way, its like you have a child but you don’t mind it. You’ll baby Chopper all he wants, it’s the least you can do after he’d taken such great care of you all as your crew’s doctor before you were separated.

Once you make it to Sunny, you’re glad to see your ship and home is safe, and receive compliments from Franky and Robin regarding how more grown up you look. You are twenty now, after all, but it makes you smile shyly and your face feel warm as you thank them both.

After Chopper leaves to retrieve the missing members of your crew once Brook arrives, you start to feel your anxiety creep in again, Robin noticing right away and giving you a soft smile.

“Zoro will be glad to see you again.”

“You,” you gulp a bit, smiling nervously now, “you think so?”

“I do. You two have been close since I’ve been with everyone, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you’re well.”

You really do hope Robin is right, especially when you hear Chopper calling for you all, the large bird he’d left on returning now with Luffy, Sanji, and Zoro aboard as well. You surprise yourself by not crying when you see Zoro, instead grinning brightly and joining Usopp at waving widely to the three of them, shouting their names.

It slightly catches Zoro off guard to see you so happy, but still makes him keep his own smile on his face when he sees you. Robin is correct, though Zoro doesn’t know that, but he is truly glad to see you’re fine, you look so much stronger than two years ago, and seeing how you keep yourself up on your feet when Luffy flings himself down to give you a hug, he’s even more impressed. He wants, needs, to talk to you alone, but after making it on deck, Luffy still hasn’t let you go, Zoro realizes its going to be a bit before he can take you elsewhere to talk, especially so once Sanji recovers from his nosebleed and also gives you a hug. He turns to fawning over you like Nami did, telling you how lovely you look.

Zoro can’t disagree with that statement.

He gives you time with Sanji, who continues to talk to you and tries to tell you about his own two years, until he notices you’re constantly glancing past him, and he knows exactly why.

Sanji smiles at you, before taking you by the shoulder and pushing you towards Zoro, essentially telling you to go see your husband already, he’s been waiting for you to be free so you could talk maybe. It makes you smile at him before you finally walk over to Zoro, who had turned to leaning against the rail with his arms crossed and eyes closed, until you tap his shoulder and he opens his one good eye to see you.

“Hey there.”

“Hey.”

You feel nervous, for some reason, before you notice the scar over his left eye finally and tilt your head.

“What happened with your eye?”

“Training accident,” Shrugging, Zoro stands up straight and you realize he’s gotten slightly taller in the last two years, he notices the same for you but you’re still shorter than him, “Come with me for a bit, yeah?”

Nodding, you follow Zoro up to the crow’s nest, the two of you briefly talking about your two years. You’re amazed to hear he trained under Mihawk, while Zoro is beyond impressed you ended up in a village for swordswoman. He knew you looked stronger, he can’t wait to see how much better you’ve become with your sword.

Once you’re both in the crow’s nest, before you can say anything else, Zoro surprises you this time but hugging you as tightly as he can, which you return once you’ve shaken off the shock that he’s initiated this. You thought the two years would make the two of you drift apart, not being around each other or anything, but perhaps you’d just been paranoid the whole time.

Don’t cry, I don’t want to cry right now…

“I missed you.”

He’s making it difficult for you not to cry, so you just nod a bit, biting your tongue to keep from crying.

“I missed you too, Zoro…”

Neither of you say anything for a while, you’re impressed the rest of your crew hasn’t tried to bother and bring you both back down with everyone, but you’re also grateful for it. You both need this, just some time together, time alone, it’s probably not enough time to discuss your marriage and what’s next, but you don’t really care that much.

“I…I love you…”

Zoro nods, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead briefly.

“I know.”

That’s enough for you right now, it still makes you smile up at him, before you frown a bit, causing Zoro to raise an eyebrow at you.

“My parents…they still want me to go back and marry him…”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod, staying quiet for a moment before you sigh and lay your head back against his chest and gripping his top while he strokes your hair a bit. He may not agree with what you’re about to say, but after two and a half years, your marriage could only be ended by divorce, a thought you’ve hated since this came into being. You even hated the thought of the annulment plans, and now, you two only had the choices of divorcing or staying married.

“I don’t want a divorce…”

“We’re not gonna. Not now,” Zoro hugs you a little tighter, one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist as he gives you a kiss on the top of your head, “I won’t let anyone take you away from the crew, even if we stay married forever.”

“Thank you…thank you so, so much, Zoro…”

“Of course. I’d never let anyone force you into anything, wife.”

+!+

You think Fishman Island was one of the fastest “get to city enter battle” events you’ve experienced do far, maybe second only to Sabaody. Your crew was separated almost immediately, you ended up with Nami and she took you to the shops right away, demanding discounts and trying to put cute clothes on you, things she swears Zoro would probably like to see you in with a grin while you shy away and push her off a bit. Admitting to her and Robin that you’re in love with Zoro might have been a mistake, but at least you have people to talk to about the situation.

Of course, though, nothing is easy as a member of the Straw Hats and you all quickly are defending the Ryugyu Kingdom from Hordy Jones, fighting off masses of Fishmen to protect yourselves and the innocent citizens of the kingdom.

While you don’t take out anywhere near as many enemies as Zoro or Sanji, you still fight enough to help keep them at bay, getting some compliments post-battle from your crewmates and some of the citizens. It makes you feel both shy and proud at the same time, your two years of training weren’t a waste after all, even Zoro can see the changes in your fighting style and how well your attacks land now. You don’t look as nervous as you used to either, despite the confidant air you’d put on back then. The little bout you two had when you asked to stay with him, he saw you shaking so badly because you were scared but also still recovering from being sick, you tried your best and Zoro could see that, it’s part of why he had no problem with you following him, especially once you let him start teaching you more about swordsmanship.

You’ve definitely improved from the shaky, scared girl he met four years ago.

You feel like Zoro hasn’t changed at all, despite the scar over his left eye and definitely becoming bulkier, he was still the same to you. Still makes your heart flutter when you watch him fight, he still checks on you after fights, it makes you happy to see he’s still the same. He’s still Zoro, of course he wouldn’t change.

“Hey, come with me for a minute.”

During the celebration that’s being thrown for you all as thanks for saving Fishman Island, Zoro takes your hand leads you off again, just the two of you. It makes you comment that if he keeps taking you away from everyone, someone is going to get the wrong idea, but Zoro just shrugs it off. He doesn’t really care what others think still, you’ve always known that.

Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he guides you to sit beside him before surprising you with what he says next.

“We should talk about our situation.”

The fact Zoro actually wants to discuss what’s going to happen next is the surprise, but you still nod, agreeing with him.

“Change your mind on us divorcing?”

“No, I haven’t,” Zoro brushes a bit of hair behind your ear, placing his hand on your cheek which makes you smile at him, “We’re not divorcing unless you want to, but…I think we should try, you know, dating, or whatever you want to call it…”

You blink a few times, completely confused and shocked before tilting your head.

“…huh? You…what?”

“What, you suddenly going deaf or something?” Zoro pinches your cheek a little which makes you wince and pout, before giving him a glare that makes him smirk at you, “We should try a relationship, forget your parents and our original deal. I…I want to try being your boyfriend.”

You really didn’t expect this, you first thought, like you asked, that Zoro had changed his mind and decided he was done with your fake marriage, but instead, he actually wants to give the two of you a try. Wants to see if this might be something that really could last, not a temporary solution to your personal problems.

While you think it through for a moment, you barely register that Zoro is starting to look nervous, something you’ve never really seen before. Once you make up your mind, before he can say anything more, you lean up and kiss him, pulling away with a smile that Zoro returns.

“I’d love to give us a real try, Zoro.”

Everything is going to be okay, you’re sure of it.

+!+

Sanji and Nami can see a difference in your and Zoro’s relationship quickly after you leave Fishman Island. As you approach Punk Hazard, Zoro doesn’t really let you go, keeping you near to him even as you all draw straws and you end up being one of the group to stay on Sunny and keep watch. Neither of them say anything when he pulls you aside once again, but the smile you have while you talk to Zoro tells them both everything is fine, especially when you nod once more and hug him, which he returns to their surprise.

The two look at each with questioning glances, trying to see if you’ve said anything to the other, but both shrug. Truthfully there’s not been time to talk to either of them, and when the group Zoro’s a part of leaves, the two drag you to the kitchen and start asking questions, which causes you to laugh, but Nami doesn’t really think it’s funny.

“Come oooonnnn,” Nami leans against your arm, giving you a pout, “You guys are acting weird, you can’t tell us something isn’t going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nami.”

The blush on your face starts to give you away, and Sanji figures it out, giving you a slight grin.

“Did he finally tell you he likes you back?”

“Mm…something like that.”

“Are you guys dating then?”

“Maybe~” You’re not very good at being coy, to the point Nami gasps and shouts that she knew it before hugging you tightly while you laugh and Sanji sighs, still smiling.

“About damn time. That stupid mosshead, taming two years to tell you anything.”

“Well, all he said was that he wants to try a relationship, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“So he’s your boyfriend!” The little squeal and giggle from Nami makes you join in. “Finally, I told you he liked you back!!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right!”

Sanji is quiet while he watches the two of you for a few moments. He really does hope that you and Zoro are going to be okay one day, that he’ll stay your husband and neither of you has to deal with the divorce papers or anything like that. He doesn’t want to watch another couple in his life break down, even as you two are just starting out.

Well, minus your two and a half years of actually being married, even though it hasn’t been a real marriage yet. It still isn’t, as you explain after a bit, but your friends seem to get it. You still want things kept under wraps, until Nami brings something up.

“Yeah…umm…about that…”

You give her a confused look as Sanji sighs again.

“Luffy kind of told everyone that didn’t know. It was the day Franky was making comments about you and mosshead being in his bed.”

Groaning, you lean back in your seat before nodding.

“All right then…let’s keep me and Zoro dating between the four of us then?”

“A good idea.”

“At least we can keep a secret.”

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader

239 notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 10 months ago

Text

SMOKE, ii. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. bangtan)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 9.6k

summary: everything that begins prolongs and deepens.

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join

warnings: hobi is drunk, oc gets triggered and dissociates, throwing up, ptsd, covid and the pandemic, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, thigh humping, social anxiety.

note: so happy to bring part two of the smoke series to my babies. you were all looking forward to it so sm that i worked hard to give this to you. it's longer than the first part and from oc's pov. this might have just become my fav series ever. idk why, it just feels different. more profound. please, enjoy reading and let me know what you think. i want to hear your thoughts. <3

He walks as if he’s immersed in a prayer.

With his hands sunk in the pockets of his sweatpants and his head dipped low, the gray strands of his hair, which compliment resplendently his monochrome tracksuit, shade his eyes with more charcoal that one finds in his absent eyes. It’s the first thing I noticed about him—the way he seems to be so out of touch with reality, how deep he’s fallen through the cracks and the way he’s not one bit bothered by it.

Even the cloud that is suspended over his head is as gray as him. Hefty and sodden with the world’s rain and burdens that he broods over as he paces, unhurriedly. The room is jam-packed, filled with multitudes of people that make my skin crawl, but the way he appears to be pretending that he’s alone in the great spaciousness of the area is… uplifting.

I wish I could do the same.

But when I’m forced to be among souls that have more life than mine, I tend to overexert my non-existent social skills. Usually, it comes out in the form of my silent smile. Or, if the day is going well, I laugh and nod my head. Wait for the other person to continue talking so I’m no longer smothered in the awkwardness of the sudden airiness of wordlessness. And strangely, it works.

And I know why.

I’ve noticed people love to be listened to. To be fully conscious of the fact that the sentences they are uttering are being taken in, thought about and validated, either by that smile and that nod or by your own expansion on the matter. The latter is something I’ve more often than not had a problem with as I was born laconic.

I didn’t speak as a kid until very later on. Didn’t have many friends growing up—and my parents seldom talked to me, as young as they were. It was their first life; kids having a kid and they didn’t know what to do. It may be a psychological block, my tendency to listen rather than speak and engage in a conversation, but it’s not something I blame my parents for. It’s something I’m grateful to them in my heart for.

Had they been perfect and had I been perfect owing to that, I wouldn’t have the oneiric, yet earthy girlhood that created in me the confidence that is a sturdy mountain in me, unable to shatter or crumble. Being by myself, being in my head for the entire trajectory of my life nurtured its smoothness and strength. I’m not embarrassed that I’m unable to do something that is considered normal and perhaps… necessary in society. On the contrary, I take pride in it and I protect it.

And my dignity in me is as unchangeable, assertive and secure as the day fading into twilight, greeting me, beckoning me out.

It’s the only person—headless, mouthless, lungless—that doesn’t ask for words from me. When it takes me by the hand and drags me into its hues of pinks and blues, he doesn’t do it to expect something from me in return. The twilight does it just because. Just so I can breathe and refill my energy, my aloneness. Just so I can be knotted, devotedly, with my thoughts, dwell in them—dwell in my day and its ceaseless, eccentric events—without being under the obligation to share them with him or with anyone else.

I like walks. I like my own walks in the tiny forest behind my apartment that pervade with the dreamy meanings of life stories, often more of other people’s than mine. Where I don’t meet anyone or try to match my steps to theirs. I could never even imagine turning off my brain and my life, in front of groups of nearly twenty people.

But he’s done it and I can’t stop watching him.

Whenever I’m forced to sit in someone’s company, I engage with my attention. He doesn’t—and it’s so stirring.

Encouraging in the way it swirls my emotions because it incites me, almost, to get up on my feet and copy him, though somewhere far off, where no one would see me, so I’d get the hang of it first before I’d have the courage to do it in his fashion.

My stomach grumbles and I don’t know why the question of whether he’s eaten at all joins my contemplation before I think about Jungkook first or before I even talk myself into taking the action to get something to eat. As if he somehow hears my body and mind, he stops in his walk all of a sudden and grasps the bottle of Hennessy that he set down on the table, by which he previously sat when I came in and our eyes locked so deeply that it took my breath away.

I never thought I’d ever experience something like that. All my lonely girlhood, I read about it without ever expecting it to happen to me, nor longing for it. And it’s safe to say that none of them described it right.

It’s not tender and dream-like.

It’s a vacuum. A time-pulling force that sucks out your heart and leaves it hanging on the tip of your tongue for the other person to see.

And I hope Yoongi didn’t see it.

Because he wouldn’t see a flushed, unwrinkled and polished heart.

He would see a bruise.

A dotted, heavily breathing flesh speckled with unsightly yellows, reds and greens. A Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘The Night Café’ painting that is openly considered as ugly by even uglier society.

An inanimate object.

A gun—because whatever the eyes of society view as ugly or unright is a weapon against it.

Yellow for my hostile solitariness. Red for my distrust towards the majority of men. Green for the streak of my hair that Jungkook dyed because he desired it to be a symbol of our special connection; for Grookey and my connection to him.

His former struggle to fit in.

A trauma response, painted by Japanese hands into a form of a chunky monkey monster that I’ve grown naturally attached to—because how could I not when something I struggled with a lot in my childhood was put out there in the world so beautifully and gave me the hope I needed that I will fit in with, that people will accept me the way I am.

And the hope burst in my reality, in its own time.

All those colors, that make the painting that my heart is, are a gun for Yoongi, too. That is if I ever let him in.

It’s better if I keep it safe and hang around Jungkook like a kitten, keeping Yoongi’s safe in the process. Something that I never knew lived in me awakens from its slumber when I’m in his proximity, whenever our eyes lock in that depth and I don’t want it. I’d rather reject it and forget that it’s in me than provoke it to animatedness and get myself hurt in the end. Get him hurt.

Falling in love never has a positive result in my life and the only relationship I had—if I can even call it that—devastated me to the point that I can’t even look in the eyes of a man I find attractive.

Which is why I looked away, immediately, when our gaze deepened, because I knew that if I prolonged it for only two seconds more, my body would whisper to me that it’s inevitable and I’d believe it, succumb to it and beat at my heart until it stops feeling altogether.

Which is why I look away now, when Yoongi senses my staring and swivels his head in my direction. I pray, like him, that he didn’t see the movement of my neck twisting quickly to pay attention to whatever Jungkook’s saying next to me. And I flatten my lips when my curiosity about the contexts of his meditation seizes me, the weight of his gaze only strengthening it, silencing Jungkook’s voice like I silence my body in a worthless fight.

I crawl into myself, spellbound, where a picture of him grows in size. A house where I can walk and contemplate without being seen or noticed, and there I ponder.

A faint image of him rapping his lines flashes across the walls as if it was screened through a projector and I wonder if he was so preoccupied in his thoughts because of that. Jungkook told me it was their first performance in quite a while.

But my own take me elsewhere. My gut tells me it was something else and the image disappears into the white of the surface until only his lidded eyes remain and they gaze right back at me.

It’s like my consciousness is taunting me and it’s too much for me. I don’t feel my legs when I get up and take a walk.

I exit out of the house.

And I stride into the hall.

My heavy eyes, beguiled by my drowsiness, follow the pictures of Korean idols and western singers along the walls. For some reason, whatever it is in me, that has more energy than my body, searches for Yoongi’s eyes, but none of them are so lidded, so in tune with suaveness and geniality of his art, powdered in pinks and purples due to the love he carries in his heart for his fans. I must be looking wrong, or looking in the wrong direction, because it’s nonsensical that I can’t find a group this successful in this venue. They bring glory to this country—and I think only their faces should grace these bland walls and bring more light into this hall.

When I reach the end, I don’t find Yoongi.

I find Hobi.

So terribly low-spirited and pensive that my heart shifts in my chest. He sits on the ground with his knees pulled to his chin, his arms wrapped around them. He must’ve been watching me this whole time because when I meet his glossy eyes, he smiles, weakly, up at me.

Doesn’t ask me to sit. I do it on my own—out of an obligation that is pressing down on me, for turning around and walking away would be too awkward and I don’t want to deal with any stingy feelings of embarrassment that I know would haunt me later in bed.

I mirror his position, but I don’t lean against the wall.

I face him. Him and his delicate, easy on the eye countenance.

My bare toes nearly touch the side of his sneakers and it’s only now that I become aware of how cold the ground is. I shiver, eyeing his black furry jacket and the heads of his group members peeking out of the V of the zipper lining. Taehyung, hilariously, right in the middle and Jungkook, handsome and serious in his all black suit.

No Yoongi.

Hobi takes off his cap, placing it somewhere beside him beyond my sight, sighing distinctively, his stare fixed on a spot in front of him. It breaks when I prop my chin on the tops of my knees, something vague swimming, dazedly, across the enamel of his irises.

He can be a doll, with looks like that.

“Were you looking for someone there?” he croaks out, softly, clearing his throat, running a hand through his short, brown hair. His presence and the subduedness of his tone diminishes the pressure weighing down on me and I let out a muted breath of relief, my muscles relaxing.

When I first beheld him, I thought he was the most beautiful boy I was ever blessed to witness. The fact that it seems I don’t have to force anything or fulfill any obligations is a lambent light my soul gravitates towards, fluttering and basking in the warmth and repose it offers to it. He gives me the hope that I could sit by him in complete, comfortable silence and he wouldn’t mind—he would appreciate it, not eager to change it. And for a brief second, before I answer his question, I muse on the pleasantness of gaining something you never expected—how precious it is and momentous.

It gives hope to life; meaning, beauty and gentleness, too.

“I was,” I say, and there’s no ounce of lie in my agreement, even though I won’t tell him who I was searching for.

Not even Jungkook. It’s my private sentiment. Something to keep me company from now on before I go to sleep.

And it’s safe in my mind, not so much in real life.

“It’s so sad we had to do it online, but it’s the only thing we could do, the only thing we could give them,” he sniffles, lets me see the thick lines of tears that flood the corners of his eyes, and my heart rotates, my emotions in tandem with it. He would give his fans everything if he could, including himself. The awareness of that downturns my mouth into a pout, feeling his pain with him. “I wrote them a message. I told them I loved them, but it still doesn’t feel enough, you know?”

Hobi sucks in a breath and hides his face in his palm and it’s not my mind’s command that lifts my hand and places it on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. It’s my heart’s, which splashes in the comfort zone Hobi created.

And my heart, most peculiarly, opens my mouth and speaks.

“They’re grateful that it was online. Everyone got to watch, that’s what’s important, isn’t it?”

Hobi kneads his eyes, catching his tears before they could fall, dropping his hands. And when he sighs, deeply, I smell alcohol on his breath. Poor him, the wretched liquid most likely paints a more melodramatic, emotionally-charged picture in his brain, blurring the true face of reality. And if he’s anything like his members, he also hasn’t eaten, which allowed the liquor to cause havoc in his system.

But then, a panic flickers in me—a distant memory of what alcohol did to a certain past person in my life poisoning my mouth enough that I can’t swallow, a lump forming in my throat. The comfort goes sour and red lights flash in my nerve endings, my need to detach and isolate myself and get my body into a realm of safety ringing, deafeningly, in my ears.

My breath hitches and I pull my hand away from Hobi’s shoulder, my distrust reappearing, my knees shaking as I turn them in the other direction. My toes are icy cold and I flex them, trying to bring back some warmth, but alas—the iciness drags itself up my legs and my emotions glissade to a state of numbness, a thick mist of vague grayness obscuring my vision and my lungs tighten. I can’t breathe, I can’t feel my tongue, I can’t move my arms as painful tingles keep it in place around my stomach and—

A whistle. A raspy voice that calls out Hobi’s name.

And its repetition fades out, melts into the static that I hear.

And then hands. Soft hands that are fire itself, that stop my tingling. Delicate hands that pull me to my feet and take me somewhere.

A splash of cold water on my face. I gasp, my lungs heaving, my throat hoarse as if I was screaming. My hair sticks to my cheeks and then doesn’t, pushed over the crown of my head, tightly. Droplets run down the nape of my neck; my length clutched in a fist that’s not mine. Then, down my spine, soaking the back of my dress at my loins and I am flung into present times, the image of reality unfolding before me, the static tapering off.

Fluorescent lights that ache. Whiteness of tiles. Lidded eyes that used to be small but now are gaping and worried.

It’s not Jungkook.

It’s Yoongi.

My stomach jumps, my gag reflex triggered and I bend at the waist, clasping a hand over my mouth to stifle my vomit. But that delicate fist moves it away and my trauma spills out of me into the sink, where I am pushed towards.

My abdominal muscles clench and clench. Cold water trickles down my back, helping me awaken until I’m conscious of what is happening. The more my pain exits out of me, the more it dawns on me.

Jungkook isn’t here, an observer to my agony.

Yoongi is here, a participant that snagged me out of it.

A stranger that has come to know me, the entirety of me, and holds my hair as I empty it out.

Jungkook can’t know about this. He can’t know it’s happening again. I told him I healed from it, that it’s not haunting me again. Enough time has passed from my past relationship and I promised him that it wasn’t bad anymore.

But it came back to me in the forced quarantine and I don’t know why.

Yoongi washes my mouth once he sees I don’t retch my guts out anymore, heaving over the sink. And the gesture makes tears burn in the back of my eyes, burn like the heat of his hands.

My legs wobble, give out on me and I fall.

Not just onto the ground.

I fall for him, unable to stop it.

No one has washed my soiled mouth before. Not even Jungkook when I vomited in his toilet after we spent the night drinking at his place and I mixed my usual wine with a taste of whiskey that my ex-boyfriend used to love because I wanted to feel him after the breakup.

Jungkook didn’t even hold my hair back. He gave me his frog headband from one of the episodes he shot with his members and I laughed at the lip of his toilet. And when I felt better and Jungkook tore open a new package of toothbrushes, he played that episode for me. Saved me, essentially, because I laughed so hard that I forgot about Ji-hoon and I fell asleep with a weightless heart.

I’d watch it all throughout the quarantine every time it would come back to me. My realm of safety.

Yoongi has saved me, too, similarly, yet differently.

And I look at him as my heart thumps in my chest, tell him through the open windows of my eyes what he’s done for me. And when my chin wobbles, something in his softened expression breaks. Along with it, my fear of him splits and withers, leaving me bare and vulnerable.

I feared him because of that unnamed thing in me that began to long for him when he wouldn’t even give me a tendril of his attention. I feared him because of his aloofness, out of which wildflowers bloomed once his members left and he talked to me for the first time and I detected the exact same flowers growing long and strong along the ivory of my bones. My mouth smiled, even though I didn’t want it to, and my body reacted to him, to his sudden care when he ordered the staff to wait with me for Min-ji to come and get me. I became feverish, boiling hot, even, once he looked back at me and wished me happy birthday. And then rapped his heart’s tenderness and wretchedness on the stage.

I feared him because I knew I’d be his, eventually. And it wouldn’t matter if he’d never be mine.

The Yoongi I profoundly remember wearing a bulby teddy bear headband in that episode, which has become my coping mechanism. The same Yoongi that held my hair while I puked, washed my mouth and now holds me steady on my feet by gripping my shoulders.

And the process begins.

He sucks me into him, taking me—and I am slowly but surely becoming his.

But I don’t feel my stomach springing again. Neither do I feel a certain fear or panic quickening in me.

I feel relief. I feel solace. I feel as though I’m being lulled to sleep—as if he sat by my bed and read me a bedtime story, in a soft yellow light that doesn’t hurt the eyes while the moonlight watches and dreams.

None of us speaks. We peer into each other’s irises and I am spellbound. A garden that he locks up for the night, so no one comes in to vandalize it, when he curls a strayed, wet wisp of my hair behind my ear. His own hair is shading his eyes once again, but his eyes aren’t absent this time.

They’re present, intentional, and full of gentleness that I’ve never known from a man.

I sob.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” Yoongi whispers, and the secrecy in his tone gives me the private, sentimental notion that this is just between us—something that only he got to see and no one else will because he won’t let it. Gratefulness swathes my warm heart, pats lovingly my process of me becoming his, advancing it. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me. Did he do something?”

I take a difficult breath in. I should feel pressured to respond, my obligations descending upon my head, but I don’t. I take my time because I know he’ll want to know the cause of my dissociation and I’m not too sure if I’m capable of sharing that with him. The block is a rising pool of water and I can’t swim.

But then he tips my chin, the pad of his thumb in the center while his index keeps my head afloat. I feel myself being lifted into highs I’ve never got to see before, even though my toes stay on the tiles. And it’s all due to his touch. I can only let out little shivering breaths through my mouth, my tongue tied, my brows rounded. He reads it in my face, that something is wrong, but I don’t want to put the blame on Hobi; I don’t want him to think he hurt me. He didn’t do anything—it was me.

All me.

“Please,” he begs, the sound a mere hushed noise that travels through me and breaks me. “Don’t be afraid of me.”

His words change everything. The beginning of the night and its end, too.

And they change me.

My distrust towards men roots from my fear of them and hearing Yoongi beg me, out of the generosity of his heart, to not be afraid of him punctures a hole through my reclusive bubble, where only Jungkook is permitted to enter. Yoongi’s light shines through, a streak of newness and calmness enveloping the bubble in an opalescent glow, thick with smokiness, wispy and cloud-like as if he brought heaven itself into my life.

And I inhale that smoke, filled with soft tones of the rainbow, becoming it.

And all those colors bring words to the tip of my tongue.

“He didn’t do anything,” I whisper, and Yoongi flinches at my sudden response, his eyes deepening on mine. I soften at his reaction due to the simple fact that I’ve always been the one who flinched. It invites me to not stop there, like I normally would, but speak more. Scream at the top of my lungs. “That’s just who I am.”

His mouth parts and he sucks in a tiny breath, taken aback. A light of the same size flickers in his eyes for a split second and his thumb caresses my chin just once.

And I don’t stop there, either. It’s me who begs this time.

“Don’t tell Jungkook, please.”

And I gaze into a mirror of me when my plea floods his eyes with wetness and redness rushes to the surface of his cheeks. A layer of sweat glistens under the shade of his hair on his forehead and I catch a structure of sadness permanently coming to live in his features. The corners of his mouth round downwards and his eyes return to that smallness I met them in.

He takes his hands off of me and nods.

I mourn them. I mourn his touch.

“I won’t tell him,” he promises, still in that hushed tone. Relieved, I place my hands on my arms, where his have been to replace them, but it doesn’t feel the same. A yearning forms in me—for his hands, for his gentle touch that doesn’t have the traces of roughness that Ji-hoon’s did, and I wonder what waters I have to wade through in order to get it back. I find myself determined to do the unthinkable in order to sense the warm delicacy of that altar. “Do you want to go home?”

I want him to touch me at home with no one else around.

“Can you take me home?” I ask and it’s the bravest thing that ever came out of me. And the same stupefaction that I sense on my face stirs his features, zapping my stomach with electricity.

He holds out his hand. “Come.”

Every muscle in my body spasms and I do.

I take what he offers and, oddly, I don’t let go of it.

It doesn’t hit me what walls have been broken down in me until Yoongi places his red Jordans in front of my bare feet, white Nike socks into my hand and misunderstands my momentary shock for something else I’m too overwhelmed to decipher. He kneels before me and I hiccup at the sight, my cheeks blazing hot as he slides his warm palm down my ankle, prompting me silently to lift my foot.

And inwardly, inertly, I celebrate his touch—my body marred with gooseflesh.

He’s taken me to his dressing room. At first I thought he was changing out of his clothes or grabbing some necessary things he needed in order to get out of this place, but he only snatched his phone from his vanity and went, without a second thought, to his—I assumed—work closet to fetch out his shoes.

For me.

The same red Jordans he wore in the episode, the color of my cheeks.

My heart palpitates once he sets my foot on his knee and, wordlessly, plucks his socks from my hand. Unraveling them and bunching one as if he was putting them on a child, he slides my foot in it, raising the waistband as high as it can go before letting it snap and patting it to signal to me that he wants me to switch to the other one, where he does the same thing. Then, he guides them into his big sneakers, holding the tongue back for me.

The size of my foot barely covers half of the shoe.

I laugh, softly, through my nose.

“They’re huge,” I comment, still on whispering terms, and Yoongi smiles up at me, lopsidedly, screwing up the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“I’ll lace them up for you,” he whispers back, and my muscles spasm again. I believe it will be a regular occurrence throughout the rest of the night.

This would be the time my panic would set in and send out a message to my body to start running, giving me the vigor to do so. But I remain on my spot and what’s more—I smile back, without him seeing because his hands nimbly and tightly make a pretty bow on his sneakers, making sure my heels don’t slip out of them.

I must be dreaming. This can’t be real.

I’m in my bed, settled in a deep slumber, where a dream that’s too good to be true is manipulating my mind because there’s no way that a guy, well one of them, that used to be my comfort for such long months is on his knees for me, having broken down my walls so quickly and painlessly that I didn’t even take a moment to notice them crumbled and decaying at the bottom of me.

I didn’t go anywhere. Not to any concert, not certainly with my only best friend in the world.

I’m going to wake up soon and lament this dream, ponder my loneliness and go on with the rest of my day, living in this dream for some brief time before my body eventually forgets.

It’s happened before. It’s the face of my life.

I have no problem with it. It’s my fate.

“Your outfit looks way better with those shoes on,” Yoongi says, his attention fixed on my feet and I follow his gaze, extending my leg out of the slit of my dress and eyeing my long socks and the Jordans that go well with it, giving it a more casual look.

I wish I had a matching red purse.

Which reminds me that I left everything in the lounge room.

I wipe my palms down my dress, feverish. “I like it.”

I meet his face and blush, find him already smiling at me and I grin. A glint illuminates his dark pools, which makes me break the eye contact and play with my fingers—something I do to avert my mind from my shyness, but his stare is so potent that it magnetically lifts my eyes to interlock our gazes while my chin remains dipped.

And it’s him, this time, who resists.

He chuckles, awkwardly, and I bite my lip.

He tilts his head towards the exit and I follow him out. In the hall, he looks back at me, similarly like he did before he went on stage, and adrenaline rushes through my nerve endings. A particular obsession, that I know that I will think about a lot once I wake up from this dream, with it perches on the top of my heart like a little, gossamer bird, gray like his hair, beginning to tweet its subtle, but ethereal song.

“Can you walk okay?” he asks, and I’m so bowled over that I can only nod, flexing my warm toes at last in the spaciousness of the sneakers.

Who would’ve thought that the guy who barely gave me the time of the day would, ultimately, borrow me his shoes and ask me if I’m able to walk in them.

To say this is a crazy dream would be an understatement.

Yoongi clasps the closed side of the double doors to the lounge room and casts me a glance. “Wait here.”

I scrunch up my brows in confusion. I thought we’re saying goodbye to the rest of the members?

I dip my head inside. The boys are each preoccupied with something else. Jungkook is downing shots with Taehyung at the table. Jin is having a heated conversation over the phone, pacing the room like Yoongi did and shushing Jimin when he laughs a little too hard with Hobi resting his head on his lap, still as devastated as he was. They’re sprawled on the ground with their backs against the alcohol station—Jimin drinking another tall glass of his mojito. And Namjoon… he is sat alone on the couch scrolling through his phone as if he was on a break from babysitting all of these boys.

Yoongi goes unnoticed by all of them, bent at the waist as he drifts through them, looking for my things.

My heart constricts.

He picks up my heels by the straps near the couch and grabs my purse, walking over to Jungkook and tapping his shoulder. He swivels his head mid-shot and he sets it down on the table when I make out Yoongi saying to him that he’s taking me home. Jungkook’s mouth parts and bewilderment erupts in his features, his big and glossy eyes flicking to mine. Yoongi adds something and Jungkook, without another word spared, bolts to me.

But I notice Yoongi straightening up and looking displeased behind Jungkook’s back, his mouth pressed firmly and his head knocked back a little. My throat dries, his semblant possessiveness curling something stable in my sternum.

Run, I hear from within, despite all.

“You’re feeling sick? What did you eat before you came here?” Jungkook asks, pity rounding his eyes, and my brows furrow in confusion for a second before I realize that it’s a cover-up.

Yoongi’s actions silence that voice. His slow walk, too.

My throat dries even more, but for a different reason.

“Tteokbokki with lots of cheese. My hand slipped. You know what cheese does to me.” It’s borderline truth and I’m glad for it because I detest lying probably as much as I detest drunk men.

Jungkook laughs and I fake a smile, facing Yoongi who’s come to stand by the threshold behind Jungkook. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and I fixate on it in the momentary interlude of the conversation, his dimple popping in and out with each movement.

So cute.

“I’ll get my stuff, wait.” He goes to turn around, but faces the dead end that Yoongi is, who grips his shoulder.

“No need,” Yoongi mutters, that wrinkle deepening between his brows. “Stay here with Taehyung. I’ll get her home safely and I’ll be back.”

Jungkook looks back at me to see my reaction and I’m in awe how it’s the same motion, same gesture that Yoongi does, and yet it does nothing to me. I nod my head, curtly, and clutch my stomach, taking a step back as another heat wave washes over me and I can’t breathe.

I need a shower, my bed and my lavender diffuser.

Jungkook swivels back to Yoongi and rubs his shoulder and I catch him wince, silently. I wonder why, but then Jungkook whispers something into Yoongi’s ear that averts my attention from it and sparks my curiosity.

Yoongi only nods in response, avoiding my eyes.

Interesting.

Jungkook, then, turns to me.

“Text me when you get home. I hope you feel better. Rain check?”

I’d rather not, but I nod in the same fashion anyway.

Jungkook hugs me, tells me happy birthday one last time as he rubs my back. Tears blur my vision but I push them back, wishing to not contemplate the misery that my birthdays have become since the breakup.

But Yoongi sees them, mid-hug. And his bottom lip nearly juts out, his head tilting to the side, his arms crossed, that wrinkle between his brows. I blink them away, rapidly, even as I continue to look at him.

Jungkook lets go and lets Yoongi step through. I wave him goodbye and turn on my heel to see Yoongi waiting for me not that far down in the hall, my heels and Grookey on my purse swinging in his singular hand. I skip over to him and we walk the rest of the way to the exit door together.

With mismatched steps and itchy palms.

His displeasure turned into a pure disgruntlement once our lungs were graced with a strong hit of petrichor-tinged brisk air. It was still raining, but not as vehemently as an hour ago, the thunder silenced like the protesting voice within me.

However, Yoongi couldn’t control the weather just as easily. No matter how much he looked like he desired to. He seemed to be deeply uncomfortable by the rain and it ruffled my curiosity all over again, the simple question of why echoing down my being. His energy shifted—away from me as he wouldn’t spare me a glance, waiting for his chauffeur under the roof of the venue.

He wouldn’t talk to me. Not even in the car.

And the only time he spoke was when the driver wanted to drop me off at the spot, where he picked me up earlier. Yoongi told him off, ordering him to drive me all the way home, using a voice that tensed my muscles.

Strict and low, an outright growl that ricocheted in my mind for the rest of the drive.

It was safe to move through the rain; the raindrops pitter-pattered on the vehicle, creating a sedative sound that would mollify my disquiet if I wasn’t so bothered by the sudden change in his demeanor. I longed for his touch more than I did back in the venue, which is why I kept my hand flat on the empty middle seat between us, but he didn’t notice it, as absorbed as he was in his thoughts.

The only time he glanced at me was when the driver killed the engine at my apartment building. The rain softened enough that its song ended as well and I was filled with a yearning so great, knee-deep in my waters, that I whispered the first thing my heart thought of and I wasn’t afraid of it.

“Come upstairs with me.”

Yoongi unbuckled his seatbelt. Didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t give me my shoes, nor my purse. Carried them all the way up the stairs as the elevator was out of service. Walked them up in front of me, not behind me, checking in with me with silent looks every once in a while.

I blamed the five floors I had to climb for making my heart race, not those looks from the back.

I swore Grookey smiled at me the whole time.

Once inside, taking our shoes off felt so intimate that my cheeks burned. I poured us tall glasses of cold water that we finished in one go and that silence settled between us fully, a thick smoke, that I now sensed to be comfortable, wafting between us.

I told him I was going to take a shower and he nodded, solemnly. It took no longer than ten minutes and I didn’t let myself think, not even when I brushed my soapy palms on the places he touched and my yearning couldn’t help but grow.

I stood up in my waters, letting the stream take me wherever it felt disposed to bring me to.

And it brought me to open my bathroom door with a loud thud, indicating to him that he was allowed to come in. My skin was lustrous underneath my short black slip that did anything but cover my breasts with its lacy, heart-shaped neckline. My nipples kissed the fabric and grazed against it when I combed my wet hair and I blossomed into desperation, the longer I waited for him.

A violet wisteria tree.

A thing of violence—my arousal.

And he comes, cognizant of the sweetened fragrance that leads him to me. Stands in the doorway with softened eyes and a mouth that falls, nearly, agape when he regards my nightwear. I glance at him, sweeping a makeup wipe across my cheek for one last time before I reach for my night cream and smear it on.

Once I’m all done—clean, moisturized, and on the cusp of biting into my yearning—I face him with my body.

His eyes, tormented, fall to the sheer fabric across my breasts. And his first primal instinct is to unzip his jacket and put it around me.

“No.”

The word tumbles out of me before any thoughts could rush in and I perceive that it’s my yearning, the stream, that’s in control of me, not my brain.

I throw his jacket onto the floor.

His head knocks back like it did when Jungkook bolted towards me and he didn’t like it. The steam from my shower shields me like the smoke of silence that wafted between us and I step out of it, inching closer to him until I’m forced to look up at him.

Something of great depth looms in his eyes, darkening them, and I recognize that it’s a torturous fight. And he confirms it to me by clasping his hands behind his back.

But I don’t mourn it. I blaze up with anger so pivotal that I unclasp his hands, pressing myself against him.

He sighs, but lets me hold his hands. “Jungkook said no.”

So that’s the string of words that made him not reciprocate my gaze.

My anger thickens, taking my attention off the fact I’m touching him and he’s touching me at last and unraveling, wholly, in my seductiveness that I only feel in my aloneness and experience, for the first time in years, with a man.

I can do anything I please without being held back.

“Since when is Jungkook the boss of me?” I challenge, and Yoongi’s brows rise, his fingers flexing around my hands and lingering in that tightness. A code for me to decipher.

Does he want the same as I do?

Something about the way he’s peering down at me with his chin tilted teases my yearning and the unthinkable becomes thinkable.

Just like that.

“Are you not seeing him?” he asks, flexing his grip again and his thumb brushes along my long, manicured nails, playing with the tips. A sensual storm begins to wreak havoc in my stomach; I draw closer to him, breathe against his neck, ghosting my lips over that smooth skin.

His breath shivers and I feel myself dampen, a thunder sounding in me.

“Would I ask you to come upstairs if I were?” I take that question to his ear and his chest shudders against mine, his heartbeat an accompanying song to the thunder.

I want it to be my lullaby as much as I want it to be my lifeline once I’m submerged in the lustfulness of my waters.

I untangle one of my hands from his and glimpse into his shadowed pools through my lashes in this close proximity. Before I can feel up the part of him that I yearn for, he clasps my wrist and yanks it away, putting it back into the original position—although now it’s him who grips my hand.

I hold him, he holds me.

Cold sweat drips down my spine and I curl my lips, regretting my actions. It was foolish of me to think he’d want me as much as I—

“Are you needy?”

I blink up at him, light opening in me—a momentary streak of sunlight in the middle of the storm. I’m flabbergasted for a moment and he misunderstands it again. Repeats the question, emphasizing my name.

A lightning strikes in me, smiting every negative emotion.

“What would you do if I said I was?”

Again, his brows twitch, the same light enfolding his irises and abiding there.

He lifts my hands and crosses them behind my back, pushing me flush against his thinly clothed body. I feel the top ridges of abdominal muscles against my breasts, my stiffened nipples rubbing against them and I bite back a whimper, caging my bottom lip between my lips. His nose dips under the wet strands of my hair and travels across my cheek until he finds his destination—my ear, leaving the ghost of his soft, warm mouth and breath in his wake.

He stalls the time, ruffling through the flowers of my wisteria tree, my arousal; disturbing the waters of my yearning.

I begin to quiver.

And Yoongi feels my tremor, squeezing me tighter against him. As if to still it.

“I’d make you come so hard you wouldn’t have to touch yourself for days,” he whispers in my ear, reminding me of our privacy, of our whispering terms—something that has become so intimate, something that’s ours. Another thunder rolls in me as my eyes whisk back into my head, a trickle of my arousal drenching the inner of my thighs. And I let out the sound persisting in me—a whine, muffled by the steadiness of the crook of his neck. He sighs, deeply, in response. “Is that what you want?”

I hum out my agreement, fixating on the dream his words paint, wanting mine to fade into it. I clench his hands so rigidly that our intertwinement convulses.

Yoongi withdraws, his mouth wet and agape at last. And it’s him who gazes down at me through his lashes that oscillate in the same rhythm as our hands.

He sucks in a breath. “You have to give me your words. No humming.”

But I’m captivated by that mouth of his, by its small fullness, faint pinkness and luminescence. And he knows this—I sense his observance of my engrossment as I trace the lines of his lips with my eyes.

And our interweaving is magnetic from both sides—the meeting of a wind and a wisteria blossom in a kiss.

Both heads lean in at the same time, wordless synchronization as I take his lips and he takes mine, sucking on them as time ceases to exist.

There’s no air in my lungs and there’s no air in his—his chest deathly still.

We capture time and move it to our terms as we shift our heads in effort to take more of us.

I devour his lips and he devours mine.

Left and right, left and right.

And I slip my tongue into his mouth, rolling the tip of the muscle against his. But he’s a tease—he pulls back just to take control of me, seizing my mouth in a closed kiss, slowing me down. He arches me, pins me against the shower screen and with the movement I get to feel the part of him I yearn for the most.

I drip onto the tiles.

His thigh, too, because he roots it between my legs.

Yoongi deepens the kiss, lingering there, and breaks it. Pulling away, yet dwelling in that closeness, a raw marrow of the world’s light swims past his eyes, through our enduring magnetic, moistened connection, and right into mine.

I feel whole.

Yoongi smiles, delicately. “No kissing, either. Words.”

But that magnetic connection drives my hips to move against his thigh and he moans, mutedly, while I sigh in pleasure, my waters roused and gratified. I tip my head back against the shower screen, the smooth material of his sweatpants causing euphoria to burst in my clit, and Yoongi’s eyes descend to my chin, his hands flexing mine.

And through that connection, I hear what his body said.

He wants to grip my chin and make me listen, but he needs my consent in order to do that.

He’s respectful enough that he won’t do what he pleases, won’t let his hands wander, no matter how much I’d die for them to do that. He lets them be incarcerated—in the place where I’ve put them and he won’t try to break free.

He wants me to open the cell because I have the key.

My orgasm threatens to explode.

And amidst the hot flashes and white dots shrinking my vision, he begs.

“Please, kitty.”

I come so hard that I lose my vision altogether.

I cry out.

My eyes roll back and forth, Yoongi a constant, stable dark figure through my lashes as I ride out my high, my chest shuddering against his in a motion that grazes my nipples, heightening my orgasm. My mouth emits myriads of whispered agreements and exaltations that have no end, concocted with moans that echo through the lessening steam all around.

Yoongi doesn’t let go of our clammy hands. He keeps them in a tight lock—holding me through it.

And when the high tapers off, he swears, hushedly.

He comes into full view; my vision clearing. He’s as pink as his lips, glowy and radiating as if he were the one who just orgasmed. The sight moves me, rippling my waters—and I might just work hard to give him the words he desires.

“That’s the most I’ve heard from you all night,” he comments, his low intonation rasping his voice, teasing me, overstimulating me. “You’re alive when you come. Raw and articulate. No shyness to you.”

I blush and I beam. In the middle of my high, I never know what gushes out of my mouth, but I’m aware of the freedom that surges through me. Having it validated uplifts my seductiveness and confidence and I struggle, purposefully, against his hold.

I want to wade further through these waters.

But Yoongi seems to stop me.

He draws in and maps out my freedom with the lower half of his face. His nose and his chin nudge mine, his lips tracing the corner of my mouth before rising up the peak towards my cupid’s bow. There, he presses a validating, tender kiss.

One that makes my knees weak.

“You know what to do,” he murmurs, sinking his words into my mouth and I swallow them, kissing him back. The smacking sound of our liplocks prolongs my neediness, despite the fact I just received my release.

No more distraction.

“Lick me.”

He stalls the time again. Raises his knee, brushing his drenched thigh against my sensitive clit, daring me.

I shudder.

Yoongi squashes me against him, fully, letting me feel the hardness of him as a reward.

I mewl.

“Where?”

That solidness of his causes my mind to spin; I say the first thing I think of.

“My neck.”

He dives in, licking a stripe across my throbbing vein before he sucks on the skin right beside it. The world shuts out as I roll my eyes back, moaning into the steam and arching myself further into him, yearning to glide into him, into the whole firmness of him. And when he begins to nibble, I make small rocking motions on his thigh, enough to stimulate me, drench me and make me needier, but not enough to get me off.

And Yoongi senses well when it’s too much for me.

“Where else?” he asks against my jaw, mouthing it, his breath ragged, and I lose myself in my arousal.

“My nipple.”

He dips to that lacy fabric on the left side, wafts that hardened breath over my stiffened nub. He flicks it with his tongue and I cry out, my wetness creating a trail on his thigh that sloshes when I ride it, adding to my madness. Yoongi wraps his puffy lips around that adorned peak, sucking it as his tongue, slowly and controlledly, continues to flick it.

I exhale in staccato moans, broken—but whole.

“Where else?” He swirls the muscle around it, taking it inside his mouth one last time.

“My thigh.”

He kneels without losing the hold over our interlocked hands. And when he whimpers against my inner thigh, I realize I molded him into the image of me.

He’s as needy as me.

Needy for me.

“So pretty,” he hushes, dragging his tongue along the ivory stretch marks scattered there, collecting the stickiness of me, grunting. Plants open-mouthed kisses as far as our interweaving lets him.

The taste of me doesn’t let him stay there for long.

I open my legs for him.

He glances up at me, eyes large and glittery. “Where else?”

The last place ventures out of me with ease. “My clit. Please.”

He growls. “Good. Spread your legs more for me.”

I do as he says, the fabric lifting with the movement and revealing all of me to him. Shiny and wet, needy and desperate. He pulls down on our hands so I arch out more, and I lean the nape of my neck against the screen. He studies me, with those softened eyes of his and the glitter in them flickering. With a lopsided smile that he allows me to see, for he gives me a feral look before he leans in and attaches his mouth to my swollen clit, placing that open-mouthed kiss of his there, moving his tongue from side to side.

And moans aren’t enough; I need to speak.

My pleasured body begs me.

“Yes, yes, that feels so good.”

Yoongi hums, eyes in a trance on mine, validating my words. He sucks on my clit with a certain intensity that I’m not used to and I yelp, trembling, my noises growing in volume and I can’t hear myself, only his validating hums and growls that settle deep within me. He doesn’t focus on just one part of me—he collects my wetness, submerging the tip of his tongue inside my heat, fucking me there, before he returns to my clit and spoils it with nimble, fast flicks and and fervent, zealous sucks that make me praise him so loudly that his hands begin to tremble along with me.

And they must cramp, too, because he lets go all of a sudden.

Sinks my fingers into the fluffiness of his gray hair—and I am elated.

His strands, silky and soft, sift through my fingers and I caress them, holding him to me as what he does can only be described as making love—and I break, I break so disastrously and splendidly that I know I won’t be able to recognize myself in the mirror after he’s done with me.

I revel in it.

And I want more.

As if hearing me, Yoongi slides my leg over his left shoulder. His dark pink mouth drips and twists in a faint discomfort and I lift my knee, not wishing to hurt him—the two and two connecting in my brain that he must’ve undergone some kind of injury that he’s still recovering from. But he tugs my leg back down and pushes my hips towards his face more and I stumble, stuttering out giggles that dissolve into his and he lifts me over his good shoulder and throws me down onto my bed, immediately bending me in half.

All breath loosens from me.

He spreads my legs and pins them back to my shoulders. I concentrate on the firm grip he has around the back of my knees and I die, the blood-tingling feeling of his hands on me coaxing my liquid arousal out of me. And he watches the little rivulet follow the curves of my flesh, licking his lips—as if he didn’t already get a taste of me; as if his chin wasn’t dripping with the residue of me.

Yoongi glimpses at me.

“You really want this?”

It’s a question that makes me roll my eyes in annoyance. I’ve moved way past desperation that I can’t wait any longer and I bounce in his hold—just to catch him humming and smirking.

My breath hitches in my throat.

He becomes someone completely different when he smirks. A more vulgar, masculine and playful version of himself; beyond attractive. I bounce again just to please him and see that smirk deepen and he does it, bites his lip dangerously slowly.

I need him.

“I need you inside me.”

Those are indecent words that I never thought I’d ever be saying to a guy I just met, but if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s him. He washed puke off my mouth. The concept of time doesn’t exist in our shared, dreamy realm. We’ve shifted beyond it—outran it and my words mock it.

But Yoongi doesn’t see it the way I do.

“You’re not getting it tonight.”

I trail my fingers up his forearms that bulge with the strength he uses to pin my knees back. It doesn’t pain me that he’s not giving it to me because the more he smirks, the more I perceive that this is a chase.

One I’m willing to play.

“What am I getting from you then?” I purr, basking in the sultriness I radiate. I’ve missed my seductiveness and I fall into obsession with the way I share it with him, with the way it affects him.

He thinks about it, stalling the time again, and I pat his cheek with my big toe—a gesture that makes a swarm of giggles come out of him like butterflies that flutter all over me.

I grin, my fever rising.

This is fun.

Sweat coats him in sheen and I was wrong earlier. Hobi isn’t the most beautiful boy I was ever blessed to witness.

Yoongi is, when he laughs like the world isn’t unmerciful.

He lets go of one of my legs, but I keep it in the same position. He uses the same hand to grip the back of my neck and pull me towards him, kissing me indelicately.

Vulgarly.

Offensively.

And I moan, brattily, into his mouth, dragging him over me. He allows me, allows me to feel his hard manhood against the place where I need him the most and I grind, I grind like my life depends on it, my moans evolving into whines when his grunts deepen and he squeezes his eyes shut, our lips longing for each other, sailing on the almost bruised, swollen surface.

He fucks into me just once and pulls away.

“I can’t,” he whispers, but kisses me with chasteness that I taste for the first time. “I’m sorry, kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.”

He occupies a castle that isn’t built out of just physical pain. I may have thought the chase was conjured by his knowing better, but there is a more profound reason behind it. An image of the way he paced around the lounge room after the show flares across my vision and I bow to his decision, internally. I respect his emotional pain without demanding to know its story—enough that I sit up and clutch his right shoulder, the good one.

“You don’t have to,” I say, lowly, covering myself by tugging the fabric of the slip down over myself, but he yanks my hand away and flicks the fabric upwards, giving me a look.

“Let me eat you out.” His stare softens, the whites blinding. “I want to forget, please.”

I don’t ask what, knowing how difficult it is to talk about a pain so enormous that it stops you from going after what you yearn for. And the way I lie back down is more of an expression of my chasmic respect than it is out of a selfish desire. And the way I spread my legs for him and pin them to my shoulders with my own hands, like he did, is the declaration of my ultimate submission to him and all the small particles that make him him.

Pain or no pain, he’s the apotheosis of my entire being when he sinks his finger inside me and finds me locked, finds me forlorn. And once he opens me, stretches me and soaks me like a flower singing to God, he becomes the epitome, the core of all of my obsessions.

And I’m going to take care of him.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

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seungkw1 · 1 year ago

Text

one more drink — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut (18+ mdni), strangers to lovers ♡ wc: 1.7k ♡ warnings: drinking, swearing, softdom!seungkwan, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), petnames (f. receiving - darling, baby, good girl, etc.)

You keep visiting your friend’s bar so you can watch his cute coworker from afar, but you never expected he’d end up taking you home one night.

“Last call, m’lady.”

You look up from your drink to roll your eyes at the bartender, who also happens to be your friend Jun.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Not as big of a dork as my friend who keeps coming to this bar to drool over my coworker.”

You glance past him at the other bartender, who is drying glasses at the opposite end of the bar. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms. You look back to Jun.

“Oh hush, it’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Sure, sure. Of course not. Anyway, you want another drink or no?”

You throw back the remainder of the mojito that’s already in your hand. “Yeah, fuck it, why not.”

“Okay great well I gotta go do something in the back, so you can ask Seungkwan.”

Jun zooms through the double doors to the kitchen before you can even protest.

You sigh as you look back down at your glass. You begin mindlessly stirring the remaining ice with your straw.

You sit there for a few minutes, waiting for Jun to come back - but he apparently isn’t returning anytime soon. You look over to see what the second bartender is doing, but you accidentally catch his eye and he begins walking over to you. Shit.

“Did you need another mojito?” he asks as he goes to grab a clean glass.

“Nonono,” you stop him. “I’m good, thanks.”

He gestures to you with the rum bottle, which is already in his hand. “You sure?”

You think about it for a second. The eye contact he’s making with you right now is very distracting.

“Okay, sure I’ll have one.”

Seungkwan makes you your drink and sets it in front of you. You expect him to walk off, but he just takes a step back, his eyes still on you. You peek down to see you’re the last person sitting at the bar.

“Oh my god sorry, I don’t mean to be that person. I’ll close out now.”

“No rush, you’re fine.” He remains standing there, looking at you.

Feeling a little nervous, you pick up your drink and take a sip. You raise your eyebrows in surprise - this is the best mojito you’ve had in a while.

“Damn, your drinks are way better than Jun’s,” you tell him. His lips turn into a grin - one that might seem a bit smug on anyone else, but you can tell he’s genuinely pleased that you complimented him.

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You go to take another sip but pause. “Actually, do tell him I said that. He’s been a little too confident lately.” He lets out an honest laugh, the sound musical. His perfect teeth flash with his smile.

You’ve never really interacted with Seungkwan for longer than a few seconds - you’re used to simply enjoying how good-looking he is from afar. You thought you had caught him watching you the last few times you’ve been here (your attendance has increased in frequency lately), but you chalked it all up to your imagination. Now you have your doubts.

Since Jun has apparently vanished into thin air, you two start to chat - mostly small talk, really, but your extra mojito is definitely making you a little flirtier than normal. You giggle through your conversation as he finishes up his bar tasks, and he seems to be enjoying the conversation too - he’s always had a very friendly demeanor, but you’ve never seen the man laugh and smile this much.

You’re not paying attention, so you don’t realize the whole bar has fully closed until you see the manager glaring at you from across the room, telepathically trying to make you leave.

“Well, I think I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome,” you say to Seungkwan with a pout as you get up and start to put on your jacket.

He leans on the bar toward you, his face closer to yours than ever. God, he is so beautiful.

“Let me drive you home,” he insists. Normally you would decline, but you’re a little bit drunk and Seungkwan is incredibly hot.

“My home or yours?” you say teasingly.

“Mine, if you’d like.”

You freeze. You never actually expected him to say that. His round eyes gaze at you, his mind clearly in the same place as yours. You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

You barely make it through Seungkwan’s front door before he pulls your body into his, his strong hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you. You make your way to his couch, pushing him down onto it and immediately straddling his lap, pressing your lips back onto his. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth and his into yours, fervently making out with him as he runs his hands up your back. Time is lost as he kisses you, soft moans from both of you as you feel his pants grow tighter under you. Eventually he can’t wait any longer - he slides his large hands under your shirt, taking it off of you and tossing it away. He pulls you in, giving you a kiss on your chest as he squeezes your tits through your bra.

“Stand up,” he speaks suddenly. You obey - he undoes the button of your pants with one hand, the other palming his bulge through his pants.

“Finish that for me, darling.”

You follow his order, taking off your pants and casting them aside as he watches you while undoing his belt. His pants unzipped to reveal the hardness in his underwear, he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto his lap. You moan as your core presses onto his cock through your already-soaked panties. Making out with him again, you can’t help but start to rock your hips back and forth, the friction against your clit sending you waves of pleasure. Your mouth keeps separating from his as you’re taken away in bliss, which you keep noticing and go back to kissing him, slowing your rhythmic pace of grinding against him. But he doesn’t let that go on for long - he pulls his head back and grasps onto your jaw softly, staring into your eyes lustfully.

“Don’t stop.”

You begin to move your hips again. He groans as he resumes kissing you.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbles, his lips barely leaving yours.

If your underwear weren’t completely saturated before, they definitely are now.

You pick up the pace. The hand on your jaw goes to your ass as he grabs you with both hands, controlling your tempo. The faster you go, the harder he grasps onto you. The outside of his underwear are now damp where you have been pressing your pussy against him, pleasuring yourself against his hard cock.

“I wanna watch you make yourself cum like this,” he says, his voice low and raspy. You start to grind harder but he forces your hips to a stop.

“But - not until I say so. Okay?”

You nod your head at him.

“Words, baby. When can you cum?”

“When you say so,” you whine at him.

“That’s a good girl.” The words send a shiver up your spine as your hot core throbs. He gazes at you, practically licking his lips, watching you unravel before him.

You resume, his hands pacing you - every time you try to go faster, you’re met with resistance. But he slowly lets you rub your clit harder against him. Your whimpers turn into moans, getting louder and more intense the closer you get.

“Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes,” you cry, tears welling in your eyes. Every single nerve in your body is on fire. You won’t be able to hold it in much longer.

“Okay, cum for me.”

The release rushes over your body instantly. The sensation is overwhelming - you cry out as you ride out your orgasm, your body shaking into his. As you come down from your high, Seungkwan grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently tilting your head up to look into his dark eyes.

“Such a pretty girl.” His large hand rests on the side of your face. “So pretty cumming for me.” Your core pulsates against his heavy bulge.

You rest against him for a few seconds (minutes? hours?), your head nuzzled into his neck. Once you’ve recovered slightly, you sit up, planting another kiss on his lips before sliding down your knees.

“Your turn.”

Pulling the band of his underwear down, you take his cock in your hand, licking the precum off the tip before dragging your tongue up and down his length. He hums as you wet his cock, letting out a groan when you finally take him into your mouth. He places his hand on your head, pushing you down onto him, his length sliding down your throat. Your head starts to move up and down, tears running out of your eyes as you choke on him. Just like before, as you start to go faster his grip becomes stronger, this time against your hair.

“Taking me so well,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum in your mouth.”

You swallow him all the way to his base, his cock drenched in your spit. It only takes a few more pumps before his groans grow louder. You begin to moan against his length, and the vibrations send him over the edge. He holds your head down as he cums, his hips gently thrusting, white ropes hitting the back of your throat. His body relaxes into the couch as his hand loosens its grip on your head. You slowly take his cock out of your mouth, being sure to swallow every last drop of his cum.

He pulls you back onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your torso, drawing you into him so he can kiss your neck.

“So, are you gonna keep visiting me at work?” he asks you between kisses.

“Only if you keep taking me home,” you quip as you stroke his hair.

You feel his lips smile against your skin. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

[end]

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•.#boo seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan smut #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan fics #svt fics #svt smut #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fics #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

Note

What if Idia added the school staff to the team to defeat Malleus? After all, the more, the merrier. How would they react about Idia’s video and everything else as well?

This is an idea I’ve actually discussed before (in the context of “would this actually happen in canon”)! So while I don’t think this would be canonized, I at least want to get my own thoughts and headcanons out there.

I feel like Crowley may have ulterior motives that have yet to be elaborated on, but assuming no such thing, he’s the comic relief of the group. Probably claims he is worried about Draconia-kun’s health + safety but in actuality he is worried about how a disaster of this scale could negatively impact NRC’s reputation and donors. (Also probably whines to Idia demanding to know why he didn’t include his dear old headmaster’s handsome visage in his explanation video.) But because he is such a maganimous headmaster, of course he will use the full extent of his magical might to properly punish the misbehaving Draconia-kun!

I’m not sure what Crowley’s dream would be since his backstory is so mysterious. By extension, that also means I’m not sure what would wake him up.

Crewel I think would be very mad. He taught his students better than this, how dare they betray Crewel-sama’s trust!! Since the Draconia pup has been so bad, it’s up to his owner (the game’s word choice, not mine 😭) to discipline him. You can only imagine how strongly worded his lecture would be… No holds barred. On a not-as-serious note, he has great fun with Idia’s Dream Form Change—they’re such fast wardrobe changes! Crewel even praises Idia for the innovation, but it makes Idia feel weird to receive compliments in this context…

As for Crewel’s dream… Well, since the dreams appear to be based on a shallow, convenient idea of the dreamer attaining happiness, perhaps Crewel stayed in the fashion industry and made it big. Like he owns his own popular fashion house or something, owns a house huge enough to house 101 dogs, never has to deal with the frustration of teaching or getting his student to behave ever again. Buuuut as we can see from his voice lines and vignettes, Crewel actually does like teaching (even though it’s tough on him sometimes) and, more than that, he loves seeing his pups learn and mature. He’d need to be reminded of the pride he feels when he sees his students succeed, and knowing that he had played an active role in shaping that success and interest in the sciences.

Trein would be the most interesting of the staff reactions, in my opinion. He would be able to relate a lot to Malleus’s struggle to accept loss, since Trein experienced the passing of his wife as well as the empty nest syndrome that comes with his adult daughters moving out. Because of this, I can easily see Trein empathizing with Malleus but also being extremely disappointed in him. He’d resolve to knock some sense into his student, and then deliver a harshly worded “tough love” lecture afterwards.

Trein’s dream would be so sad, man… Him living out a happy life with his wife and daughters, and then you have to come in knowing this peace has to be disrupted. Trein has been shown in the past—particularly when he interacts with Crewel and during GloMasq—that he cares deeply for his students and blames himself for failing to teach them right from wrong if they act out. Maybe the students would intentionally misbehave or act morally despicable in his presence, causing Trein’s emotions to get riled up. (After all, he did get pretty upset when his students suggested abandoning the flower infested city.)

Side note: both Crewel and Trein would worry about the health of their pets/familiar (Lucius) while they’ve been dreaming.

I unfortunately have a lot less to say about Vargas and Sam (since I feel like we don’t have enough significant lore about them to formulate concrete thoughts on this subject)… However, I do think that they’d be sort of similar in that while they do feel disappointed with what’s happening, they try to stay upbeat and optimistic about the circumstances. Like Vargas and Sam are encouraging everyone to keep their spirits high even if the chips are down! (Vargas in a more arrogant, “never fear, I am here!” way, Sam in a more “I’ll tell you some interesting stories to distract you” way.) If we wanna talk more superficially, Vargas might mention being worried about his irl muscles wasting away and Sam about his store and profits.

Of the two, I see Vargas leaning towards more disappointment and Sam being slightly impressed by what Malleus has pulled off. This is because Vargas strikes me as someone who values real, tangible gains rather than using shortcuts. That’s pretty self-explanatory from how he constantly talks about muscles, working out, and the effort it takes to get there. Sam is someone who also deals in desires + has a dark, mischievous sense of humor. He might take a look at the sheer scale of what Malleus has achieved and crack a joke about how he wishes he were the one that could take credit for it. If he had the power to make dreams come true… well then, there wouldn’t be a need to keep stuff in stock, now would there?

As is the case with Crowley, I feel like I don’t know enough about either Sam or Vargas to determine what a feasible dream for them would be. I guess maybe a world where everyone adores and fawns over Vargas like the village does for Gaston??? And maybe Sam is the one who ends up a super wealthy entrepreneur, although maybe there’s something more he wants if he’s actually indebted to his friends on the other side like Dr. Facilier is.

Anyway, those are my thoughts ^^

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #Divus Crewel #Mozus Trein #Sam #Mr. S #Malleus Draconia #Idia Shroud #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #book 7 spoilers #Ashton Vargas #Lucius #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 10 months ago

Text

Being part of a rival crew and becoming Sanji's lover would involve...

Sanji x reader. NSFW!!! (moodboard)

This fic is dedicated to @vespidphoenix.

*****

🩵 At first it’s only flirting.

🩵 You aren’t expecting anything special today, only yet another boarding on a rival pirate ship that has had the misfortune of being on the same route as yours and that your captain, Loras, has decided to invade and lighten of their treasures and whatever other commodity they carry. The other crew as expected retaliates, and a battle ensues… a battle that sees you confront one of them, a blond young man who immediately catches your interest because of his fighting prowess, and then some.

🩵 You’re evenly matched, which makes the fight more fun; and your opponent is an extremely handsome young man, which leads you to flirt unashamedly with him as you exchange blows. Rather than being distracted or embarrassed as it usually happens, your opponent seems delighted by your interest, and starts flirting right back with equal intensity. “I’m not used to fighting women, especially one so amazingly beautiful like you.” “This does you credit, but is complimenting me all you’re going to do, or you wanna fight?” “If I have to; you’re quite strong, I have to admit.” “Likewise. I must say, you’re the most attractive opponent I’ve had the pleasure of fighting in a while…”

🩵 The fights end in a draw, both yours and Sanji’s and that between the Straw Hats and your crew, forced to abandon the boarding. You retreat, Loras grumbling and severely scolding the crew for their failure, but you feel satisfied and even energised, strangely not disappointed you were not able to best your opponent. In the next days, as you take care of your duties or contemplate the waves lapping at the side of the ship, you find yourself thinking back to Sanji, to his bright smile and lovely eyes, to the strength and gracefulness with which he fought, and smile to yourself, thinking that who knows, the sea is vast and full of pirate crews, but maybe one day you will see each other again…

🩵 One day ends up meaning eight days later, because the two crews run into each other a second time, this time at the harbour of a tiny island, and while the two captains argue you and the blond pirate immediately lock eyes. You grin. He winks. A new fight ensues a minute later, the two of you immediately heading towards each other for a rematch. “I must admit I’ve been thinking about you.” “Have you? I’m flattered; may I know the name of such a lovely young lady?” “I’m (name). What about you?” “I’m Sanji. You look lovelier than ever, I must say; I hadn’t noticed what beautiful eyes you have…”

🩵 Long story short, you end up fighting again, neither able to surpass the other, as you flirt and exchange compliments; once more, your crew is forced to scarper after Loras has been thoroughly drubbed by Sanji’s captain Luffy. “To our next meeting, my dear.” you say as you prepare to depart, blowing Sanji a kiss; he grins, clearly flattered. “I miss you already.”

🩵 That last comment is meant to be a joke; after all, meeting the same crew twice in the great vastness of the sea can be a coincidence, but thrice it would be nothing short of a miracle, which surprisingly saddens you a little: meeting and fighting Sanji was… fun, in a way, and you wouldn’t have minded repeating the experience.

🩵 You do, no more than a week later, when the two crews meet for the third time. Loras, still resentful for the sound defeats received recently, accuses Luffy of following you; the straw hatted-pirate swears they are not, he is not believed, and soon you are fighting again. Once again, you and Sanji find each other and fight furiously. “Did you miss me, beautiful (name)?” “I didn’t, actually; and I recently met another pirate who is more attractive than you.” “Oh, you’re breaking my heart…” At one point during the battle, you find yourself pushed against a wall, with Sanji’s body caging yours; your heart leaps in your heart as you both suddenly realise you’re closer than you’ve ever been, close enough you can feel his breath on your face, and he can feel the frenzied beating of your heart against his chest. For a moment you both hold your breath, suddenly shy and unable to speak… and then realise that Sanji’s hand is resting on your breast. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realised… I swear I’m not that sort of man…” he stammers, blushing furiously, and you wink; had you had the impression he was that sort of man you would kick his ass to the other end of the Grand Line, but since you do realise it’s been an accident, you simply wink at him. “At least buy me a drink first.” you tell him batting your eyelashes, and you see Sanji grin.

🩵 This time it’s your crew that comes out the winners, but as you depart to follow the others, you find yourself grinning, just like Sanji is doing behind you. To that third encounter a fourth follows, and then a fifth, and so many more; suddenly, despite the mounting improbability, it’s like the two crews can’t help running into each other. At first convinced Luffy is persecuting him, Loras soon decides to turn the situation around, chasing the straw hatted-pirate across the sea to decide once and for all who is the strongest between the two of them; he’s so focused on his new rival he seems to have forgotten his first and most important goal, to find a legendary treasure that his grandfather told him about years ago, and that has been the reason both him and you, his childhood best friend, have taken to the sea. Nevertheless, the large majority of the encounters between the two crews are accidental, rather than one of the two looking for the other; you’ve never believed in destiny, but it does seem like an invisible force, the Gods or Fate or whatever name one wants to give it, is pushing them together, to meet over and over again. And the same, consequently, happens to you and Sanji.

🩵 You’re not the only one among your crewmates to have developed a rivalry with one of the Straw Hats; Loras is soon convinced Luffy is his fated enemy, so to speak, the only man that stands between him and glory and that one day the two of them will fight to the death, and the two swordsmen of the crew have started training harder than ever in anticipation of the next time they can cross blades with Zoro. No one suspects your rivalry with Sanji is more than that, a series of fights during which neither is able to best the other, but it is. He’s strong, quick and agile, and fighting him does make you strive to become stronger and give your all in order to win - or at least not to lose, but on the other hand, you can’t deny your heart leaps in your throat every time you glimpse his crew’s jolly roger on the horizon, or notice his blond head, and his smile, among his crew. You are sincerely happy to meet him, as if you were old friends, and become frustrated, even melancholic, when more than a few days pass after your last encounter. Also, you can’t deny Sanji is one of the most attractive men you have ever met; he has a fine physique, expressive eyes, and a very nice smile. No matter how fun and stimulating it is to have him as an opponent, you can’t help wishing you’d have the time and the opportunity to just talk, and learn something about each other… and then perhaps discover if all that flirting between the two of you only serves to joke and pass time or not.

🩵 The first time you meet alone, perhaps unsurprisingly since you have by now learnt he is his crew’s cook, is at the marketplace, on an island your crew has reached that morning. You are wandering around, looking around in search of something interesting enough to buy, when suddenly you notice the back of a by now familiar blond head -not to mention the firm backside a few feet beneath it- in front of a fruit stand. You smile to yourself, take a moment to fix your clothes and hair, and approach. “If I remember correctly you owe me a drink.” you say as you saunter to him; Sanji, busy analysing two different qualities of peaches, turns, sees you, and the largest, happiest smile you’ve ever seen opens on his face. “Well if it isn’t my favourite opponent. Are you here to challenge me?” “Not particularly, I’m just enjoying a free afternoon. What about you?” You end up keeping him company as he buys provisions for his crew, both unbothered by the risk of being seen by your crewmates; later he does insist on buying you a drink, and you blush, unable to remember the last time someone did the same for you. You spend more than an hour talking, of yourselves and of your dreams and your crews, and it’s genuinely the most interesting conversation you have had in your life; no one has ever looked so interested in what you have to say like Sanji is, no one has been so able to make you laugh like he does, and even though this is your first real conversation, you both feel perfectly at ease, as if you had known each other your whole lives, enough you’d happily spend the rest of the day like that.

🩵 You can feel a jolt of electricity running through your body every time your knees touch his under the table; as you finally leave the bar, you only need to share a glance before Sanji takes your hand to pull you into the closest alley, and a moment later you’re kissing furiously, his back pressed against the wall as he holds you by the waist and your hands play with his hair. Neither speaks for several minutes; you feel on cloud nine, Sanji’s heart beating against your chest as you explore each other’s body, and the longer your embrace lasts, the less satisfied you are with just kissing him, no matter how sweet his lips are. “I saw an inn across the street.” you murmur in his ear “I know we don’t have long, but…” You don’t even have to finish the sentence; Sanji’s handsome face lights up. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to…” “Of course I’m sure! Come on, any minute we waste here is one we could spend doing other things.”

🩵 He laughs -a celestial sound- and a moment later he has taken your hand once more to lead you out of the alley and towards the inn; neither pays any notice to the way the inn-keeper looks at you when you inform them that no, you’re not going to need the room for the night, only a couple hours. You start kissing while you’re still in the corridor, and when the door closes behind your backs you part to share a look, not tense but well aware of what you are about to do. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” Sanji murmurs, his hands delicately holding yours “I… I’ve never felt like this before; I think about you all the time. The last thing I want is to betray my crew…” “And I’m not asking you to do it, nor will I betray mine.” you reassure him, happy and relieved to discover he feels the same “I just want us to be together, even just for an hour; I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, only for today.”

🩵 The first time two people have sex is often awkward, especially if they don’t know each other well platonically either; you and Sanji are the exception to the rule. Despite the little time at your disposal, you don’t hurry in getting rid of your clothes, but worship each other as your hands and your mouths explore the skin you gradually expose; you help Sanji remove his shirt, taking advantage of the proximity to gently bite his shoulder, and he moans - a wanton, completely lurid sound that excites you both. A moment later, he returns the courtesy, kneeling in front of you as he opens your belt and lets your jeans slide down your legs. “I like having you in this position.” you murmur, and Sanji winks at you before kissing your navel. “I aim to please, especially in moments like this.”

🩵 A minute later you’re finally bare, as you lie together on the bed and your kisses multiply. “You are so beautiful.” Sanji murmurs as he hovers above you, his free hand caressing your cheek, and you find yourself smiling, that probably predictable compliment filling your heart with joy. You doubt this moment will repeat itself in the future, but rather than saddening you, the knowledge pushes you to enjoy it to the fullest, to create good memories you will carry in your mind and in your heart forever, months and even years after you and Sanji have parted ways; you know already it will be unforgettable.

🩵 It is.

🩵 Your lovemaking is intense, vigorous and at the same time gentle, both of you taking care of the other’s pleasure as you chase your high together. Having made sure he actually likes it, you kneel between his legs and take Sanji’s -lovely, just a little too big for his build, the base surrounded by well-trimmed blond hair- cock in your mouth, and the symphony of his moans of pleasure fills the air as you suck him. “Oh, Gods… yes… oh, darling, you’re so good at this…” he murmurs, his hand in your hair, and you smile to yourself: he’s already losing his mind, and you’re quite proud of yourself for having brought him this far using only your mouth. You work him for a while, but when you look questioningly at him, Sanji smiles and shakes his head. “Not like this.” he says as he sits and gently cleans your mouth with his hand before pulling you under him “As lovely as it would be, there’s somewhere else I’d like to come, at least for our first time.”

🩵 Sanji uses his hand to make sure you’re ready for him, and a moment later you’re the one moaning - no, you’re almost screaming as Sanji moves above you, his slim hips pressing against yours, his hard flesh splitting you open. “Oh Gods… oh Gods, this is so good!” you cry out; you’re completely lost in the pleasure he’s gifting you, and you capture his lips in a new kiss as you feel a first, powerful orgasm approaching “Don’t stop, please Sanji, I want more…” Sanji wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted, but smiles at you, hungry and simply awed at the way your bodies, which until today had only met as adversaries, are now singing together; he can feel your nails clawing at his back, the pain mixed with the pleasure, and for a moment he hopes you’ll actually leave a mark, a memento of the moment you are living together. A moment, and a particularly vigorous push, later he feels you come, your body contracting around his pushes him beyond the edge, and Sanji is coming as well, falling in your embrace as he pants.

🩵 You smile at each other, neither feeling the need to speak to say how lovely it was, sweet and intense at the same time, and that you’re not yet sated with each other. “If you’re half as good at cooking as you are at making love, your crew must eat better than any other across the sea.” you murmur after a while as you play with Sanji’s hair, and he laughs, flattered. “And I can’t believe Boa Hancock is still considered the most beautiful pirate in the world with you around.” he counterattacks, making you blush. Together in that tiny, squalid room that has probably seen its fair share of clandestine lovers, at least in your case well aware of what your captain would think if he knew what you are doing, you feel at peace, the warmth of Sanji’s body enveloping yours as he holds you in his arms, the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. As a rule, ephemeral things -cut flowers, fireworks displays, butterflies- evoke a sense of melancholy in your heart, due to the awareness that their beauty is destined to disappear soon, but now, for some reason, you feel the opposite; knowing that you’ll soon have to part makes this moment of intimacy, that you’re still convinced will never happen again, even more lovely and precious. Whatever happens from now on, you think in the privacy of your heart, you’ll never forget Sanji; and you’ll never regret having been his woman, even just for two hours.

🩵 You are both quiet, and running late, as you leave the inn; Sanji holds your hand until the very last moment. “Are you going to tell your captain about this?” he asks quietly, and you decisively shake your hand: Loras is your oldest, dearest friend, you’d follow him to Hell and back and keeping a secret from him fills you with guilt, but you know he wouldn’t understand, and you’ve always preferred to keep your private matters… private. “This is not… I mean, it has nothing to do with our crews’ rivalry, hasn’t it?” “Of course not; this is just between you and me, we are not betraying our friends, but… I do think we should keep it to ourselves. Thank you, (name); that… that was really lovely, it had never…” Sanji bites his lip, suddenly shy “So, uhm, I’ll see you around?” “You bet it.” you answer, and kiss him one last time, and you are both smiling as you part to reach the harbour from opposite directions.

🩵 You are sure it will never happen again; how could it? You are pirates, you live on ships surrounded by your crews; last but not least, your captains and dear friends are now rivals, and while what you shared in the inn room may not exactly constitute a betrayal, neither feels comfortable with the idea of carrying out a relationship with the enemy. It was lovely -it was amazing, so much that days later you can still feel the warmth of his body on your skin, and the sweetness of his kisses on your lips- but even in the remote case you’d have the opportunity to do it again, it would be highly unwise to. In the next weeks, as you meet twice more for the umpteenth fight between your crew and the Straw Hats, you and Sanji fight as usual, without pulling your punches -or kicks, or weapon blows- more determined than ever to best each other, but when your gazes meet, both know the other is also thinking back to that moment, when any distance between you had disappeared and you had shared your pleasure in an intimacy that went well beyond the simple physical pleasure. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you don’t feel guilty; but the intensity of what you feel, an emotion you can’t give a name to, is so overwhelming you can barely meet Sanji’s eyes.

🩵 In the end, about one month after your first time, your crew reaches an island you had never been to before. Loras entrusts you with an important mission to carry out while the rest of the crew is away, and they’ll be back in a few days to pick you up. One day, as you return to the small house you have rented for your stay, safe from the prying eyes and ears of the other guests of an inn, you feel your heart leap when, in the crowd filling the nearby square, you recognise Sanji, as usual surrounded by his friends, the crew apparently enjoying a day off with shopping and street food. He’s so handsome, you think as you look at him peeking from behind a corner, tall and with that lovely smile and lean but strong physique; you could reach him in less than a minute, but even considering the fact that your crew won’t be back before a few days that would be the stupidest, most potentially catastrophic thing you could do…

🩵 Oh, fuck it. Hurrying inside the house, you quickly scribble a message for Sanji that you then entrust, with a few berry for the trouble, to the neighbours kid, instructing him to give it to the blond man you have pointed to him through the window, as soon as he’s alone and his friends won’t notice. You spend the next hours trembling with excitation, unsure of what it would be worse, to have your invitation accepted or not, and in the end, late in the evening, you feel a soft knocking at the door, and when you go -run- to open it, you find yourself face to face with a very serious Sanji. “This is a dangerous game.” he says, with the tone of someone who blames himself as much as his interlocutor, as he already closes the door behind him; his sweet, expressive brown eyes are burning with desire, and you find yourself struggling to swallow as you meet his gaze. “I know. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to come, this was stupid, but I couldn’t stop…” “No; I’m glad you did it.” A moment later he has taken you in his arms, and you’re leading him to the bedroom, your mouths already sealed in a kiss, and you don’t care if it’s late enough many people are already sleeping and the house’s walls are thin enough you can almost participate in a discussion between your neighbours, you spend the next three hours screaming Sanji’s name as he ravishes you, ravenous and passionate and generous like the lover of your dreams. Do whatever you want to me; just touch and kiss me, I want nothing else. This is what you ask him, and Sanji is more than happy to obey.

🩵 You share a cigarette after making love thrice, both sore but satisfied. “You’re insatiable.” Sanji murmurs as he kisses you, clearly not at all displeased by that, and you smile as you run your fingers up and down his firm chest. “You’re a cook.” you remind him “Doesn’t it make you happy when someone eats a five-course meal of your food and then asks for seconds?” In the end, for the first time in your life, you fall asleep in his arms, the fingers of an exhausted but happy Sanji playing with your hair. You wake up only a few hours later, as Sanji is picking up his clothes from the floor to get dressed; the sky out of the window is still half-dark. “I’m sorry; I have to return to make breakfast for the others, before they realise I am gone.” he explains; he told you already he has waited for his friends to fall asleep before leaving to come to you, and that unfortunately his crew will leave today. “Of course.” you murmur as you get up to kiss him good-bye, disappointed you don’t have more time to spend together. You remain like that for a minute, hand in hand, both aware that you could have, if not forgotten, at least stopped after doing it once, but now that it has happened twice, you have started on a very dangerous path; going back might be almost impossible. “I feel guilty.” you confess in a whisper, and Sanji kisses your forehead. “Don’t; because I don’t either, and we’re not doing anything wrong. Take care of yourself, alright?”

🩵 And so it begins. You would have never thought a relationship like this was possible, but for some unfathomable reason your two crews keep running into each other, and destiny seems to favour the two of you -a fact you order yourself not to find comfort in, because there is no love goddess that is pushing you and Sanji together, yours is not a love story destined to an happy ending after many vicissitudes- giving you the chance to meet semi-frequently and regularly. There are inns, and empty buildings, and back-alleys, and whatever nook or cranny you find that offers you a modicum of privacy for a night, an hour, or even just fifteen minutes. Even though you have both come to silently trust each other completely, you have tacitly decided to never invite each other on your ships, even in case you’d be completely alone; neither has stopped feeling guilty for your relationship with a rival, but you both feel more and more attached with every passing day, and staying away from each other soon becomes impossible. Despite the risks, despite the shame, soon the only moments you feel alive are the ones you spend in Sanji’s arms, pressed against a wall as his fingers work their magic between your thighs, or sitting on his lap as you both contemplate the sunset in a rare moment of quiet; you know your crewmates, who you love deeply, and especially Loras, your oldest friend to whom you have sworn fealty, would be horrified to discover what you have done, and deep in your heart you know you won’t be able to go on forever, that sooner or later your luck will run out and you’ll be discovered, or the two crews will take different paths in the vastness of the sea, separating the two of you forever.

🩵 It won’t last. It can’t last, and the sooner you accept it -even better, the sooner you decide that no matter how amazing the sex is between the two of you, it is not worth all the pain and the heartbreak that it will cause- the better it will be both for you and for Sanji. But you can’t accept it, every time you reflect that one day you might not have your next meeting to look forward to, to enjoy a little time kissing his warm skin or taking a brief, secret walk on a secluded beach before you part to return to your ships, you feel a lump in your throat and your eyes fill with tears. It would be easier, you reflect one night as you contemplate the empty expanse of the sea, sitting on the ship’s figurehead as you stand watch, if it were only that: only sex, because even at your young age, you know there are many things more important than physical pleasure and no lover, no matter how attractive and passionate, is worthy the respect of your crew. Unfortunately, if you ever hoped to limit your relationship with Sanji to a simple sexual affair, no strings attached and no fealty required, to abandon once either had grown bored with it or found a new partner, those wishes are soon and thoroughly dashed, because it takes you a few weeks at most to realise Sanji has become much more important than that, much more important than you could have ever imagined; he’s now part of you, and he’s come to stay.

🩵 On your third date -your order yourself not to consider them as such, because friends with benefit don’t date, they meet and fuck and… and…- Sanji brings with him a lovely single-portion chocolate cake, with your name written on it with cream, that he has prepared last night after his friends had gone to bed. “Had they seen me they would have insisted on having some, but I wanted this to be for you and only for you.” he explains as he offers you a fork and a napkin “I don’t know what sort of dessert you prefer, but I thought you can’t go wrong with chocolate. What do you think?” The cake is the most delicious thing you ever had the pleasure of eating, sweet and soft on your tongue, but what pleases you the most, enough to make you blush, is the fact that Sanji made it expressly for you, renouncing the few hours he has to sleep and on top of all the time he already spends in the kitchen to cook for his friends. Of course Sanji is a cook, preparing food is what he does, but you feel flattered, and sincerely happy, he decided to share something that is so important for him, his passion and the art he has dedicated his life to, with you. You end up eating the cake together, and the chocolate-flavoured kisses that follow are even sweeter than those you usually share.

🩵 One day yet another confrontation between your crew and the Straw Hats takes place; the other ship is spotted while you’re in the pantry organising the supplies you and the others have carried on board that morning, and so, by the time the clamour on the deck reaches you and you realise what is happening, the fight is already underway. As usual you immediately look around searching for Sanji, and soon yoy find him, as he defends his crew’s red-haired navigator from two of your crewmates… while a third is aiming at his head from a distance with their rifle, unseen, the shot almost sure to kill Sanji given your crewmate’s skills. Instinctively -but even if you had a whole day to reflect on it you’d do the same, completely certain of the right thing to do- you immediately intervene, putting yourself between weapon and target, risking your own life to divert your crewmate’s shot. The noise attracts Sanji’s attention; he turns, sees you, realises what you have done and stares, apparently unable to act or speak. That night, you and the crewmate you have stopped from killing Sanji have an argument most of the others also witness; thank all the Gods none of them seems to suspect you acted to defend him, rather to stop another from killing the man the whole crew by now knows you consider your mortal enemy and favourite rival. Loras, who as usual avoids taking parts when two crewmates argue, tells you both to shut it, and the matter is closed.

🩵 The next time you meet, you and Sanji only have a few minutes to spend together, kissing as if it were the last day of your lives as your hands, by now well aware of where to touch and how to stimulate to give each other pleasure, move up and down your bodies, a fight against time made more exciting by the danger of being caught. “I know what you did, you know?” he murmurs after a while, as he holds you by the waist, his free hand playing with your hair. “To defend me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I think you do; you stopped one of your friends from killing me, because you care about me. Or am I wrong?” Sanji grins, while you find yourself blushing; you’ve been seeing each other for months now, anyone could see you like each other, but admitting it out loud requires more courage than you possess. “Actually, I did it because only I am allowed to defeat you.” you say in the end; both you and Sanji enjoy your rivalry, the way you push each other to improve and use all your strength to defeat the other, but your explanation is hardly credible, especially after you retrieve a small box from your pocket and shyly offer it to him. “I… well, the first time we spoke you told me today was your birthday, so… this is a little thing I thought you’d like.” The box contains a wristwatch that you have found in the marketplace of a town your crew has visited recently. “I also had your name engraved on the back, apparently it’s something you do; I know as pirates we mostly use the sun to know what time it is, but… well…” You’re stammering, as embarrassed as you were that day when you were eleven and you confessed your love to the boy you liked -and were cruelly rejected- which is absurd, because you’re an adult, a ferocious and experienced pirate, and this is not a declaration, you just saw that -very expensive- watch at the stall and you thought it would look good on Sanji’s wrist, and you remembered his birthday would be soon, and… and…

🩵 You cautiously look at Sanji to test his reaction, but he seems to be speechless; in the end he grins, broad and happy. “This is the best present I have ever received; I love it.” he murmurs as he observes his name engraved on the back of the watch and then puts it on “Thank you, (name); you… you shouldn’t have.” “I know; I just felt like buying you a present, that’s all.” you explain simply, and Sanji smiles at you, before a mischievous look fills his eyes as he kneels in front of you, his hands slipping under your skirt. “Now…” he murmurs “I know today is not your birthday, but what about I show you how much I appreciate your gift?”

🩵 You’re in the open, in a dark, uninhabited alley where nevertheless anyone could decide to step in at any moment, both passers-by and your crewmates, but acknowledging the danger only serves to make you both more excited; a minute later a hand pressed to your mouth is stopping you from screaming loud enough the whole town would hear, while Sanji is holding your panties in his hand and his blond head has disappeared under your skirt. What he does with his tongue is so deliciously lurid and sensual it takes him a minute to tip you over the edge, his intimate kiss gifting you a powerful, prolonged orgasm, and Sanji is forced to hold you to stop you from tumbling to the ground. “You are crazy.” you murmur, out of breath, and Sanji laughs. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.” he confides, before dangling your panties in front of your eyes “Since it’s my birthday, may I keep these as well? As a souvenir for the days I don’t meet you?”

🩵 You go around panties-less for the rest of the day, the particularly windy day putting you at risk of being exposed in front of the whole crew; Sanji carries your second gift in his jacket pocket, touching it often.

🩵 On another occasion, your crew reaches an island on which an important festival is taking place, with music, food and games; Loras, who looks unusually pensive, slips away to talk to two people he’s been introduced to by the town’s mayor, leaving the rest of the crew free to amuse itself. You have just been approached by an attractive man who is inviting you to dance when suddenly a child approaches, offering you a piece of paper. “A man gave me a hundred berry to give this to you, miss.” he says, and you quickly read the short message before smiling, and turning to the man next to you. “Sorry, I have to go.” you say, and a moment later you’re running full speed towards a secluded beach half a mile away, where Sanji is waiting for you, with a delicious dinner for two prepared on a blanket, including a bottle of wine and candles placed on the sand all around. “I took a leaf out of your book.” he says; the way he looks at you makes you feel completely naked, but not in the way his hands do when you can take advantage of the privacy of an inn room; it’s something much more intimate, that has more to do with your heart and your mind than your body, and that fills your heart with both joy and fear… as if you were standing on the edge of a ravine, destined to fall towards the unknown “You look lovely tonight. Why don’t you sit? I prepared your favourites.”

🩵 You don’t talk much that night, rather you enjoy each other’s company, the quiet murmuring of the waves, the light of the candles reflected on your skin. At the end of what must have been the best meal of your life Sanji takes your hand; you walk for a while on the beach, and while you can distantly hear the music and the voices of the people taking part to the festival, you feel as if nothing else existed in the world - not your crew, nor the various problems and difficulties that make carrying out a relationship in your situation almost impossible. In this moment, only the two of you exist; only you, and the stubborn desire to go on, not to lose each other, because even though you are both loyal to your crews, and your captains, you know by now that what exists between the two of you is too precious and special not to fight for it. You might have avoided giving a name to it, and even talking about it openly, and who knows what would happen if you were able to meet every day and spend more time together instead of stolen moments now and then, but you don’t want to believe it’s been all for nothing, you will not accept it!

🩵 At first it was only flirting; then it was sex, amazing but nothing more. And now, you can no longer deny it has become something that is perhaps not quite love yet, but it could become so easily, and soon…

🩵 You always thought Sanji felt the same, without the need to talk about it, and he does; however, his ideas regarding the future of your relationship are partially different from yours. “We can’t go on like this forever.” he murmurs after a while; he’s wearing your watch, like he has done every single time since you have gifted it to him “You know it as well. It’s not just because every time we meet we risk being discovered by our crews; I… I’m tired of this, (name). Tired of never knowing when I’m going to see you next, tired of not being able to tell my friends about you; at first it was exciting, but now I’m feeling trapped. You deserve better; we both do.” “I agree.” you murmur, relieved to know you feel the same but unsure of what to do about it “So… what do you suggest?” “Well… I thought you might decide to join the Straw Hats; I’m sure the others would like you, and you them, even though you’ve been part of our rival crew. I’d really like to have you on board, and this way we could spend time together and go on dates rather than having to snuck around. What do you think?” Sanji looks expectantly at you, clearly hoping for a positive answer you’re not ready to give him; no matter how genuinely happy you are to hear he believes in, and wants more from, your relationship, he is not the only important person in your life, and you’re not ready to abandon everything else to follow him, and his straw-hatted captain, around the sea.

🩵 “Why don’t you join my crew?” you propose back “I could tell Loras about you, I’m sure he’d be happy to have a great fighter, and cook, like you with us, and at that point we could spend as much time as we want together.” Sanji hesitates. “Luffy is my captain; I promised to be part of his crew until he becomes King of the Pirates, and I find the All Blue. He’s my friend, and he helped defend the place where I lived when it was attacked; I can’t abandon him.” “I respect that; but I also love and respect Loras, and the rest of my crew.” “I know, (name), but if you only met Luffy…” “And if only you met Loras…” you stop him, suddenly angry “Sanji, can’t you see? What you feel for your captain and crew, I feel it for mine; how can you ask me to leave my friends for you, when you’re not ready to do the same for me? Don’t you see how egotistical you sound?” He nods, admitting that he had already reflected it was not fair to expect from you a sacrifice he is not ready to make; you could both leave your crew, either to start your own or to abandon piracy and do something else, but that would only serve to make you both unhappy - not the best beginning for your life together. “So what? Is this the best we can get, to meet once in a while, have sex hiding as if we were cheating on our spouses, until one day our captains get tired of their rivalry and we lose each other forever when they decide to take different paths?”

🩵 Neither wants it; at all. Nevertheless, it seems like you have no other choice, none that wouldn’t mean sacrificing everything you hold dear. Would a future together be worth it? Maybe, but you know already you’d feel guilty for the rest of your lives. “I… I can’t do it; I’m sorry. I want to be with you, but I can’t leave everything I love behind to do it; I’d end up hating and resenting you, or you me, and that is the last thing I want.” Sanji nods, saddened but unsurprised by your decision; you wait for his answer, praying in your heart to see him smile suddenly and say here’s what we can do or something like that, but if there is a way for the two of you to be together without having to abandon your crews -and, almost as terrifying, to admit to your captains you have both been in a relationship with one of your rivals for months; at least in your case you know Loras will probably interpret it as a betrayal, even though you have never shared inside informations with Sanji or done something at his request that might advantage his crew against yours- neither you nor your lover see it. You share a last kiss and then part ways, both waiting until you can no longer see each other before you begin weeping.

🩵 It’s the middle of the night when you finally reach your ship at the harbour; rather than walking to your cabin to sleep until dawn, you sit on the empty bridge, staring at the sea shrouded in darkness, feeling empty and hopeless. The fact that Sanji believed in your relationship, in the promise of a future together, just like you did, is only partially a comfort; you can’t resent him for having chosen his crew over you, since you have done the very same thing, but your heart is broken in so many little pieces you fear it will never feel whole again. Part of you never wants to see him again, in the hope that distance will soothe your pain; the other fears that losing him will only increase your suffering, even though you know that sooner or later you will have to say goodbye.

🩵 You’re so focused on your broken heart you only realise you’re no longer alone on the bridge when Loras comes sit next to you; he left the captain’s cabin to go relieve himself and saw you from one of the windows. “What’s wrong?” your friend and captain asks, but you simply shake your head in response: even though you have chosen to remain with him and the crew rather than leave with Sanji you still feel guilty, knowing how he would react if he learnt of your relationship with a member of Straw Hat Luffy’s crew. “You know I’d go to Hell and back with you, right? That you are my captain, and my best friend, and I’d rather kill myself than betraying you and losing your trust?” you ask him, still staring at the sea to avoid his eyes. If Loras finds your words, that unsought pledge of loyalty, weird, or worse suspicious, he doesn’t show it; for a moment you could swear he looks sad, almost regretful, but then he bumps his shoulder against yours, a friendly gesture you both often use towards each other, and you find the strength to smile. You’ve been friends since before you learnt to read and write and you know each other better than anyone else in the world; you have always supported him, and he has risked his life to save yours more than once. One day, soon, you’ll tell him about Sanji; he won’t be happy, but you know he’ll understand, and even sympathise with your broken heart. You know you’ll never forget your blond cook, but at least you’ll still have your dearest friend by your side.

🩵 Barely two days later, Loras announces he has received credible information about the location of the treasure you’ve been searching for years, which is excellent news; consequently, you’ll be abandoning your current route to sail in a new direction, which is… good, in a way, you reflect, since it means you won’t risk running into the Straw Hats anymore. The prospect of never seeing Sanji again is almost unbearable but, you tell yourself, maybe in time you’ll learn to live without him in your life, and be happy and satisfied like you were before meeting him. You find comfort in Loras and your other friends on the ship, and in the hope, mixed with excitement, that the treasure will soon be in your hands. A few days later you reach a small island, and Loras leads a team of his ten most loyal crewmembers, obviously including you, to an isolated cave where its guardian spirit meets you, offering to deliver the treasure to you, if you have something to offer in exchange to the Goddess. Before you have time to grasp the meaning of those words, your crewmates have grabbed you and pushed you to the ground, with Loras looming over you, his sword in his hand. “What are you doing?” you ask, dumbfounded to the point you are not even scared yet, and your friend sighs, saddened but determined. “This is the rule, (name); the treasure can only be obtained in exchange for a human sacrifice to the local deity. And since this island is protected by a Goddess, the sacrifice must be a woman as well.” he explains “I wish there was another way; but since you’re the only woman of our crew it must be you.”

🩵 As the enormity of the situation hits you, you still can’t believe it is happening. You know how deeply, almost fanatically, Loras and the rest of the crew have been looking for the treasure, that has been the very reason you and your friend have taken to the sea years ago, but… but is he really going to sacrifice your life?! You’ve been inseparable since you were children, as close as siblings, sharing the best and worst moments of your lives and protecting each other against any danger; and now he’s preparing to kill you?! You look all around you, the faces of your crewmates betraying grief and heartbreak, but none of them hesitates, none of them utters a word in your defence or to beg the captain to reconsider. “We have all voted, (name).” Loras informs you, as if he had read your mind “The whole crew, while you were away. We are all in agreement; we are all so sorry, but we believe this is the right thing to do. Think about it; we’ve been striving for this treasure for years; we can’t simply let it slip from our fingers.”

🩵 He looks at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to approve his decision and accept being put to death, but you are still speechless; the whole crew knew what would happen to you today, the whole crew voted in favour of sentencing you to death, and no one told you! You didn’t suspect anything, naively convinced your crewmates shared your excitement for the imminent finding of the treasure and that soon you’d all be celebrating together. Instead, they were all planning on betraying you, stabbing in the back a person who has been their crewmate, and their friend. “I’m sure in my place you’d do the same.” Loras insists, but you stubbornly shake your head: no matter how desperately you wanted to find the treasure, you know no riches are worth the life of a crewmate, and the betrayal of a person who would have given their life for yours. Has he always been capable of such wretchedness, or did greed get the best of him? You don’t know; what you’re sure is that this is not the man, the friend, or the captain, you could be loyal to, and sacrifice your life for. You’re alone, unharmed against ten, but fury and desperation endow you with a strength you didn’t think you’d be capable of; you wait for Loras and the others to be focused on the spirit your now ex captain is formally offering your life to in exchange for the treasure, and you manage to grab the sword and the gun of one of the others; you wound two of them, and in the ensuing chaos you slip away towards one of the tunnels that open up in the back of the cave.

🩵 You run blindly for a while, soon getting lost in a veritable maze of tunnels; for a while you hear the voices of Loras and the others, determined to take you back, but soon the only sound you can hear is that of your feet on the ground, which suggests that your ex crewmates have given up, or at least you have left them behind. What are you going to do now?, you wonder, still under shock for the betrayal; lost as you are, you could perhaps walk around the tunnels for hours before finding an exit, where Loras and the others are probably waiting for you; also, everything you own bar the clothes on your back are still on the ship. Are you destined to die here, either by Loras’ hand or of starvation as you hide in the caves? Suddenly, for some reason, you think about Sanji, and new tears fill your eyes; if only you had known what was soon going to happen, if only you had accepted his offer to join the Straw Hats, now you’d be safe, by your lover’s side or at least free. All you wanted was to remain loyal to the people you love, and look how you have been rewarded!

🩵 In the end, as you turn a corner you’re pretty sure you have already seen at least twice, suddenly the cave’s spirit appears in front of you: she -it?- has the appearance of a young woman in an old-fashioned dress, semi-transparent, her naked feet hovering a few inches above the ground. Doubting your weapons would work against her, for a moment you fear she has come to get you, but the spirit smiles gently and points to one of the tunnels. “If you go that way you’ll find an exit your enemies don’t know of.” she explains “Walk for one mile and you’ll find a village, the people there will hide you. And you might need this.” This is your backpack, that you distinctly remember having left under your bed on the ship, neatly filled with your most important possessions. “Why are you helping me?” you ask, unsure; you have never met a spirit before, but you doubt they habitually assist the living out of kindness. In response, the spirit smiles gently. “Treasures are a peculiar thing; sometimes you lose them because of all you went through to find them, sometimes you don’t understand how precious they are until they have slipped through your fingers.” she says, before disappearing.

🩵 A moment later you have grabbed the backpack. Five minutes, and you have found the exit, hidden behind a thicket of bushes on an apparently deserted corner of the island. In less than half an hour you have reached the village, a sleepy place with two tiny inns; well aware that those will be the first places Loras and the others will look for you at, you offer half of the berry in your possession to a woman you meet at the market, and who accepts to host you in her house and keep the secret regarding your presence at the village. You plan on lying low until Loras and the others have left the island, but that night, as you sleep on the lady’s couch, you’re awoken by a sudden, brief but violent earthquake; the village’s buildings and streets miraculously suffer no damages, but the next morning you’re informed the cave the treasure was kept in has collapsed… and the members of a pirate crew recently arrived on the island were buried under the debris, including their captain. You have no way to be sure but you just know it wasn’t a simple accident, rather Loras and the others were punished for trying to take the treasure without offering a sacrifice in exchange. Despite everything you cry for them, for the crewmates you have sailed and fought side by side with for years, and for Loras, for the man he was before greed destroyed the better part of him; now you’re free, no longer having to fear being hunted or kidnapped, but you have no place to go, no friend left in the world, no goal or desire on which to focus your time and energy. You feel completely lost.

🩵 For lack of anything better, you begin helping the lady who houses you at her stall at the market, nor exactly the job of your dreams but that fills your time and pays for your room and board. On your third day you’re arranging the different varieties of fruit in their different crates when suddenly an unexpected but familiar voice reaches your ear. “Excuse me, I need some apples and pears…”

🩵 Sanji is more attractive than ever, or at least this is how he appears in your eyes as you stare at each other across the stall; for a whole minute you’re both speechless, and then “What are you doing here?” you ask at the same time, you surprised to see him so far from the expected course of his ship, him who didn’t expect to see you working as a fruit seller. You parted more or less amicably, but suddenly your heart is full of shame, and the last thing you want is for your former lover to know how low you’ve fallen; but Sanji is still looking at you with that sweet, reassuring smile that has been the first thing you fell for, and you know that at the very least he will not make fun of you for what happened. The stall owner is looking at you disapprovingly, probably thinking you’re wasting time ogling a client instead of working, so you hurry to offer him a bag with his purchases. “I’ll take a break in fifteen minutes.” you whisper to him; your hands touch as he passes you the coins to pay, and the warmth of his skin on yours is a cherished memory you could never forget “Wait for me near the fountain at the end of the street.”

🩵 The next quarter of hour is the longest of your life, but finally you and Sanji are together once more; he has bought a flower at the market and he places it behind your ear, even though, he admits, you are already so beautiful you don’t need jewels or other decorations to look more attractive. What a charmer, you think as you blush, but a moment later Sanji asks what has become of your crew, and that is enough to make the joy for your encounter disappear like snow in spring. As you sit hand in hand on a bench, you share everything that happened since you and your - and Loras’ crew reached the island. Sanji’s reaction is the one you expected: incredulity, indignation, and anger. “So he didn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself, he didn’t give you a choice… but he deliberately kept the truth secret to ambush you? What a bastard!” he exclaims “And your whole crew was on board with him? No one said a word, all of them agreed to have you killed? This is… monstrous…” Sanji’s indignation comforts you but, but not enough that the betrayal of your former friends stops hurting. “The most painful thing is… Loras didn’t know about us, he wasn’t punishing me for having fraternised with a pirate of another crew; that I might have accepted. He simply placed my life on one of the scales and the treasure on the other, and he decided I was worth less.” you confide “We were like siblings, we had promised to face any danger and enemy together… I guess he never cared about me, not in the way he swore he did; I renounced you for his sake, and now I’m completely alone…”

🩵 Sanji doesn’t speak, but he holds you in his arms for a while, his hand gently playing with your hair. “You know.” he murmurs after a while “Luffy would have never done what Loras did. No matter how much he wants to find the One Piece, he would never sacrifice one of his crewmates for it.” “Wow, you really know how to twist the knife…” “No, sorry, I… what I meant to say is, I’m really sorry for what you went through, and happy you’re fine. But your captain clearly did not deserve your loyalty and friendship; mine would… if you were to join us, that is.” He confesses that after the two of you had last met, Sanji decided he could no longer keep your relationship secret from his friends, and told them everything. While understandably surprised, the others had accepted that Sanji had never meant to hurt or betray them, especially Luffy, a person completely uninterested in romance and relationships but who nonetheless assured him that he had nothing against his cook seeing his rival’s best friend… and who offered to welcome you in his crew, so that the two of you can be together. “I know it’d be a big change for you; that having been betrayed by a man you knew since you were a child, it could be hard for you to trust a person you have never really met.” he adds kindly “But you’d love being with us; you know Luffy is strong, but he’s also kind and loyal, just like you are. I’m sure you’d get along… and I’d love to have you in the crew. I… I have missed you so much.”

🩵 You have missed him as well, like you had renounced a part of you; you look at Sanji’s kind and hopeful face, and you feel your eyes fill with tears - again. “I have been so stupid… so naive, I have given up on you, I don’t deserve a second chance…” “Of course you do; (name), you deserve people who cherish and support you like you do with them, be it as friends or crewmates… or l-lovers.” he murmurs, stammering a bit “I have missed you so much, and what I feel for you goes well beyond sex…” He can’t finish the sentence, because suddenly you’re kissing him, for the first time in days, and this hasn’t been the longest you’ve been since the last time you saw each other, but having Sanji’s lips against yours is like the first breath of fresh air after almost drowning; you’re still sobbing, tears of pain and joy together running down your cheeks, and he laughs as he kisses you back, happy and relieved, until you need to part to breathe. “Is that a yes?” he asks, eyes sparkling, and you admit that you’ll have to meet his friends, and especially his captain, before deciding, but yes, you’d be honoured to join the crew of a powerful pirate who values loyalty and friendship.

🩵 “Do you think your friends will like me? After all we’ve been enemies for a long time.” you murmur after a while, unsure; Loras’ crew is everything you have ever known as a pirate, and the idea of joining an already close-knit group does make you nervous. Sanji, who knows you well enough to know he doesn’t need to lie to make you feel better, admits that it might take the others a little longer to get used to you, but he’s sure they’ll easily accept you as soon as they realise the sort of person you are, and you’ll feel as if you had always been part of the Straw Hats. “Also, you’ll have me.” he adds, almost as an afterthought; he’s smiling, but there is a conviction in his voice that turns those words into a promise “Fully and completely, as long as you’ll want me. I swear. Having sex with you is amazing, but I want more; I want to be your man.” You smile, resting your forehead against his and enjoying the sweet, chaste intimacy of his body close to yours: you’re pretty sure your work break is over and you have to go back to the stall, but you couldn’t care less - not least because you’ll have to tell the lady that you quit. “I think I can work with that.” you murmur “Sanji, I missed you so much… I have never known why we kept running into each other, but one thing I’m sure of: I don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

🩵 You spend a few more minutes holding each other before standing; hand in hand, you start in the direction of the harbour, leaving the market and the village behind you.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Sanji #Sanji x reader #Taz Skylar #Bellona's stuff #100 notes

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