#his voice is deep and smooth like a well full of honey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladadiida · 1 year ago

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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

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dmitriene · 11 days ago

Text

continuation to this work

cw: possible authority, threesome, gangbang, comfort part with tears.

you're doing your best for simon riley, your lieutenant, one and only man you offer your body and soul to so rawly, hold out in your shaking palms for him to do anything he pleases, and you wouldn't refuse, as obedient, sweet like a pup he raised all for himself, accepting everything he gives you, any word, command, caress or a harsh, possessive tug.

shaped for him, you learn to arch your back sharp and wait, in his quarters, on his dark sheets, naked and presenting, doesn't matter if simon comes in tired, angry or almost boneless, he indulges in your sweet body anytime he can, calloused fingers skimming down the fragile curvature of your spine, pressing, circling at the tender skin, knowing that you're already dripping down your quivering thighs.

simon invited john to your sacred relationship, letting him indulge in your tight, pliable hole, always messy, stretched out around your lieutenant's thick, engorged cock and dripping out frothy globs of cum, soaking in the rumbled sheets below your twitching body, price doesn't waits anymore before sinking in, filling you pleasantly, cock heavy and fat, nudging against your spongy spot and making you claw forward.

nuzzling against simon's muscular thigh, his cock leaking precum against the small pudge on his stomach, you whine out, voice already slurred, stuttering little calls to them both, as john's drawn out, deep ruts of hips jolt your body forward, folding your knees against your tummy by the force of his body, slotting over your back, making you slump and cry weakly in filling pleasure.

and if you accepted price, sure there shouldn't be any problem if simon will invite two more, johnny and kyle, you hear their names buzzing in your ears, clogged, unable to comprehend anything more than the heavy weight of john's flaccid cock on your drooling, wriggling tongue, he's spent already, pumped you full enough so his seed would dribble out, now contented to just smooth his rough palms over your warm, hollowed cheeks.

body fervent, you're already too overstimulated to proceed, your cunt twitching and leaking loads of cum, but when simon pats down the swell of your ass, thumb spreading at the fat, revealing your swelling hole, purring how obedient and pretty you are, you can't say no when he asks if boys can have a taste, eyes wide and excited, cerulean blues meeting the honeyed irises, so easy to make their cocks hard in their cargos, as they marvel at the sight of you.

no matter what, it's still simon in who's hands you end up, snuggled tight against his solid, heaving chest, little hairs that dust his skin are a soothing caress against your wet cheeks, heat dissipating from your skin slowly, you cried, when it's all got too much, their cocks, their hands, playful kisses bordering on aggressive and back, rugged, tanned skin turning into ebony, softened, and then repeating, johnny and kyle both different sides of each other, but able to act together as if synchronized.

simon didn't made you wait when you started crying, worried, eyes crinkled, furrowing alongside his brows at such emotional display, he wasn't interested if they got enough of you, batting an urgent, heavy hand and making them all take a step back, john already dressed and confused, arms crossed tight over his chest, murmuring something to the boys, nothing you can remember, before ending up tucked under clean, cottony sheets.

when you start to recognize your surroundings back again, twisting to the side a bit, the arm around you tightens, muscular, wretched with tattoos, simon, you think contentedly, and seems by the grumble he let out, vibrating away from his chest, you croaked his name out, as he brushed a soothing thumb over your tummy, cupping at the supple skin, making you mold back against his body, mind dissolving back into the deep slumber.

you can be your lieutenant's pup, but he's responsible for your well being and comfort, and should you show any signs of being uncomfortable, hurt, or worse, simon is overtaken with a primal need, to protect, to heal, and to soothe, hide you in his embrace from the overwhelming world around.

main masterlist. quidelines.

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holybibly · 1 month ago

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A sweet treat for my bunnies in honour of the one and only fascinating fox, Jung Wooyoung's birthday.

Unholy hour of the day: You love Wooyoung's possessive side, maybe so much that sometimes you don't mind playing with fire to see how long you can push his buttons before he puts you down.

Or you flirt with the other members, and Wooyoung has to use a rather unconventional method to remind you who you belong to. Inspired by their latest comeback, your boyfriend tests your limits by using ice play.

Warning: Temperature play, ice play

"Tell me, who do you belong to, Peach?' Wooyoung asks you in a sultry, hoarse voice as he hovers seductively over you and slowly moves his cold, plump lips along the tender column of your neck. You can feel the remnants of ice that were still in his mouth quickly melting as they come into contact with your heated skin, sending shivers of excitement through your spine. His lithe, strong body traps you between the searing heat of his smooth, honeyed skin and the coolness of the black silk sheets, plunging you into a voluptuous abyss of contrasting sensations as he continues to leisurely explore your skin with his incredibly soft lips and licking the moisture that has accumulated on it languidly with his cool tongue.

"I don't know... maybe you're the one who can tell me who I belong to, Woo?" Your voice is hardly louder than a whisper as you say these words. Maybe you're being a little too bold, teasing Wooyoung like this, knowing full well that he won't let it go and will surely punish you for it. But the dark, burning stare of his heavy siren eyes and the sharp touch of his teeth against your skin were absolutely worth it.

Wooyoung lets out a grim chuckle that doesn't bode well and makes you shiver before he grabs a fresh ice cube from the crystal vase on your bedside table and slides it across the hollow between your soft, large breasts. The air in your bedroom is so exhaustingly heavy, mixed with the rich smoky cherry scent of Woooo's favourite perfume, and it settles into your lungs with each deep breath, soaking into the airy velvety flesh of your lungs and clouding your mind. Your whole body blossoms under his touch. The contrast of the hot body hovering over you and the scintillant cold ice feels divine, delightful enough to make your pretty pussythrob with desire.

"Hmm, try it once more, Peach. C'mon, it's so easy, isn't it? Who do you belong to?" Wooyoung begins to guide the ice cube up the side of one of your breasts until he has pressed the clear, frozen piece of water against your berry-red nipple. Over and over again, it goes round and round your swollen, pointed nipple in a circle until the ice has completely melted. Warm trickles of liquid run down your sides and down your stomach, dripping onto the silk sheets beneath you and leaving dark trails of desire, and you catch your breath as he leans over your breast and sucks your almost numb nipple into his wet, warm mouth.

Your whole body burns with fever from the scorching touch of his soft, sensual lips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, squeezing the silky, raven-wing-coloured strands between your trembling fingers as he continues to service your nipple with his tongue and teeth. Wooyoung gently bites down on the sensitive flesh, holding it in tension, and then pulls gently on it a couple of times before releasing it from his mouth with a wet, loud 'pop' sound.

"Peach..." Your boyfriend purrs sultrily and huskily, taking a fresh ice cube from the vase. "I'm still waitin' for your answer."

"Maybe it's San? You know he looks after me..." You stammer, continuing to annoy Wooyoung, but all of your insolence melts away as quickly as the ice as Wooyoung begins his delicious torture with your other breast. The sensation of the cold and the heat makes you gasp for breath, and you raise your juicy, soft thighs in a silent plea for more.

"You know I can do this all night, baby." Wooyoung runs his cold fingers over your belly as he slides down your body and nestles himself comfortably between your spread legs.

I... I don't know...' Your hips sway invitingly to his touch as Wooyoung's fingertips finally reach your pussy. Even though you know it's coming, you can't help but let out a loud cry as the icy cube caught between the pads of his fingers presses against your clit.

He rubs the melting ice cube agonisingly slowly around your sensitive nerve cluster before lightly pushing it between your plump labia to slide it down your slit to your little hole. Just when you think Wooyoung can't make his little game any more sophisticated, he blows lightly on your quivering wet folds, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure and squirm in your spot. The black silk sheets beneath you are soon soaked with melting ice and the slime that oozes from your trembling hole.

Wooyoung barely lets you breathe as he clamps a new ice cube between his teeth and spreads your labia with two fingers, then presses the ice directly against your swollen clit, watching it shrink and turn red from the cold. Cool water runs down your cunt as the ice cube melts in his mouth, and Woo continues, soaking you with the melting ice until it's completely gone, then stroking your clit with his hot tongue—the change in temperature making you shiver with excitement, your hands clutching the sheets tightly as your hips begin to sway weakly against his caresses.

"Just say it, baby, and I'll fuck you. That's what you want, Peach, isn't it? Do you want my cock to fill up that needy cunt of yours?" Wooyoung purrs in between long, messy licks of your pussy, his tongue feeling like it is scalding hot as it swirls around your clit. To spur you on to the right answer, Woo slides two cold fingers inside you. He immediately presses them against your sweet spot, rubbing it mercilessly with his wet, icy fingertips.

You squeal as his fingers begin to fuck you roughly and quickly, stretching you in the most delightful way, and you belatedly realise that Woooo has not taken his rings off. The massive pieces of silver jewellery drag along your slippery, quivering walls, cooling your heated flesh each time Wooyoung slides his fingers inside of you until his broad palm is completely pressed against your wet, trembling cunt.

"Damn it, Peach, just tell me who the hell you belong to." Wooyoung growls in a low voice as he wraps your swollen clit with his sensual lips and sucking on it in the same rhythm as his fingers work their way into your hole. He is practically breaking you down, his name hanging on the tip of your tongue as you get closer and closer to your orgasm.

And then it stops. Wooyoung releases your throbbing clit and slowly pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you with a pitiful whimper as your cocky behaviour comes back to haunt you in the form of a ruined orgasm.

"No... Wooyoung, please let me cum." Your whimpers pitifully. Your whole body is twitching in the painful need for that sweet release.

"Oh, you finally remembered my name, huh, peach?" Wooyoung grins wickedly and reaches for another ice cube, only to slide it across your slit again, causing you to gasp and squeal loudly. Woo moves the rapidly melting ice cube to your clenching hole and pushes the half-melted cube into you, sending a violent shiver through your entire body. He has to press his palm against your stomach to hold you in place as he continues to slide the ice cube in and out of your pussy until it melts into a puddle in his hands. "So, I ask you one last time, my sweet Peach. Who do you belong to?" Wоо's voice is soft and hoarse, and you can't resist him any longer.

'You!' You cry out, just as Wooyoung pushes his fingers into you once more. "I am yours, Wooyoung."

'That's right, baby.' Woo smiles as he flexes his fingers inside you and strokes your G-spot with the pads of his fingers to pamper you for your obedience. 'Have you finally decided to behave like a good girl?"

'Yes, I have Daddy.' You whisper in a trembling voice. 'Now are you going to fuck me?"

Wooyoung chuckles, painfully slowly pulling his fingers, smeared in your slime, out of your hole, and crawling up your body, trapping you between his body and the silk sheets again. His eyes are dark and full of lust as he leans down to your face to kiss you lightly on your parted lips.

"Yes, Peaches, now Daddy's going to fuck you."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #atz smut #smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez unholy hours #ateez fanfiction #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung x reader

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calypsocolada · 3 months ago

Text

someone else bought you flowers... ft. nanami, gojo, toji, hakari, takuma, & higuruma

authors note: hi. this is just a lil something I wrote while on break at work. my birthday was last week and I wanted to write a lil something but got too busy. until now! pls enjoy. bye. ps: probably gonna write a second part for some of the other boys...

cw: suggestive, slight jealousy, fem reader

wc: 2.2k

click here for my masterlist

“Baby?” You hear Nanami’s voice from the kitchen, you lean back in your chair, spying down the hallway. When you spot him a smile spreads over your face.

“Hi honey, you’re home early.” You say, pushing to your feet as you make your way towards him. He’s standing near the island in the middle of the kitchen, hand outstretched towards the bouquet of flowers you’d set there. “Thank you for the flowers by the way… what was the occasion?” You ask, outstretching your arms to give him a hug. Nanami pulls you into him, kissing the top of your head.

“I didn’t send you these cheap flowers, honey.” He intones against the top of your head. You pull back, slightly surprised.

“Hmm?”

“I know your favorite flowers. Those are practically weeds.” You laugh softly at his words, he’s still holding you gently. He’s serious as he looks at the bundle of flowers with scrutiny.

“So I have a secret admirer?” You ask as Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

“It seems. But they don’t know you very well. Pity.”

“You’re a flower snob.” You tease as Nanami tightens his hold around your hips.

“I just know my girl.” He kisses your cheek first, then your jaw and neck, he trails up to your lips, pausing before they meet. “And my girl deserves only the best quality flowers.” You scoff out a laugh and he shuts you up with a kiss.

You flicked the card from the flowers, your coworkers gushing beside you as you blushed embarrassed.

“Wow… he really went all out.” Your coworker beamed, leaning to smell the bouquet. You turned in your chair, popping open the card.

You shine through my darkest days... Signed, your future.

The card was sappy but the flowers were a nice thought. Satoru liked to embarrass you sometimes and even though you weren’t really a flower kind of girl you still appreciated him thinking of you. The elevator to your floor dinged and your coworker giggled, nudging you.

“Here’s Mr. Romantic.” She teased as you turned and spotted him. He smirked at you, giving you a little wave. You gathered up your stuff as he met you halfway, taking your purse and lunch bag. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you two walked to the elevator.

“Someone got you flowers?” He asked as you blushed, rolling your eyes.

“Uh huh, someone…” you teased back. “My future apparently.” You said as you two stepped onto the elevator.

“Your future?” Gojo echoed.

“Who apparently shines through your darkest days?” You and Satoru met eyes before he reached out and plucked the card from the flowers. He looked over it for a second.

“So my girl had a secret admirer?” He says, pocketing the card.

“Oh? They’re not from you?”

“I know you don’t like flowers, baby.” He says as the door slides open and you two walk out. He was right, you were more of a sweets person. “You know for someone who’s your future they don’t know you very well.” He teases as you laugh. He holds out his hand for the flowers as you hand them off. He presents them to an older lady walking by who blushes and thanks him.

“You pawned off my pretty flowers.” You teased as he took your hand.

“Thanks because you need arm space for all the shit I’m about to buy you.” He winks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, pulling you towards the city.

You huffed coming through the door, arms full of at least fifty roses. You struggled until an arm jutted out, pushing your front door open for you.

“You’re home early, baby.” Toji’s voice intoned, deep and smooth from just waking up.

“There was a mix up with the shifts at work so I got to leave.” You say, watching Toji’s eyes stick to the roses in your arms. “This was sweet of you by the way. I didn’t get to read the card yet.”

“Don’t bother.” He said, eyes sharpening. “I didn’t send these.”

“Oh?” You hum, setting the bundles of roses on the table as Toji plucks out the card, tearing it open. He reads it over and hikes up a brow.

“This is some corny shit, baby.” He laughs, handing over the card for you to read.

Roses are red, violets are blue, the best part of my day is you.

You audibly laughed.

“Yeah if I had read the card I would’ve known you didn’t send these.”

“These are expensive,” Toji says, plucking one of the petals from a rose. “Looks like some rich bastard has his eye on my girl.” There’s a glint in his eyes that had your stomach bottoming out.

“How inconvenient.” You tease as Toji pushes the roses right off the table into the trash. Your lips part in surprise.

“We can’t just-“ he’s swift with his movements, pulling you into him, large hands on your waist as he turns you to face him, bodies pushed together.

“I’ll kill him.”

“It’s just roses.” You smirk as he sharpens his eyes.

“You want some roses, I'll buy you thousands, not some schmuck from work.”

“Toji… are you jealous?”

“Hush.” He whispers against your lips before kissing them.

“Morning, you sleep well?” You push inside the front door, struggling between the bags and the flowers. Hakari glances up from his phone and sets it down on the coffee table. It was evident from the lingering scent of coffee and his disheveled appearance that he had just gotten up.

"Yeah, like a corpse," he replies, helping you with some of the bags. "What's with the flowers?"

“Oh?” You glance at the flowers. “I thought you sent them to me?”Hakari raised an eyebrow momentarily, taking a close look at the bouquet.

"Not from me, babe. You sure they ain't from some secret admirer?" He teases with a lighthearted smirk, plucking one of the flowers from the bunch and twirling it idly in his free hand.

“Well if they aren’t from you then they are from someone else.” You respond, walking towards the kitchen. Hakari follows closely behind you, setting the bags down on the countertop. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed, a curious smirk on his face as he watches you set up the flowers in a vase.

"So, who do you think sent 'em? Got any ideas?"

You pluck out the card, flashing it to him.

“I haven’t read it yet.”

Hakari's smirk widens in anticipation as he looks at the card, intrigued. He lets out an exaggerated scoff, pretending to be unbothered.

"Well, don't just stand there. Read it already. See who's been sending you flowers like a sap." You pull it open, reading the card.

“Love is the flower you’ve got to let grow, from your secret admirer.” You recite. Hakari lets out a genuine chuckle at the message, a hint of mischief glimmering in his eyes.

"That's pretty sappy, gotta hand it to 'em. Secret admirer, huh? Who do you think it could be?" He crosses his arms, feigning nonchalance, as he waits for your response.

“You don’t seem to be bothered with someone sending your girlfriend flowers?” You tease, tossing the card on the table. Hakari swipes it up, reading it again. Hakari chuckles once more, a smirk playing on his lips. He steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you.

"Nah, not really. I can't blame 'em for having good taste. And besides, I trust you." He reaches out, gently pulling you in by your hips, his smirk turning into a sly grin.

"But you still didn’t answer my question. Got any ideas who sent 'em?"

“I have no idea who it could be.” You tease, laughing softly “I have to say though, they did get my favorite flower. That’s nice attention to detail.” Hakari raises an eyebrow.

"Oh really? Your favorite flower, huh? Must’ve gotten lucky." He steps a little closer, his hands still on your hips as he looks down at you, a playful smirk on his face. He leans in, speaking in a low, flirty tone. "I wonder, do I match up to this secret admirer?"

“Hmm… do you? When’s the last time you got me flowers?” You tease, his grip tightens just slightly. Hakari lets out a mock sigh of feigned annoyance, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Alright, you caught me there. I can't remember the last time I got you flowers. But that ain’t the only way I can get your attention, you know.”He steps even closer, his hands slowly wandering lower as he gently pulls you flush against his body. His eyes locked on yours in a playful glance.

Takuma frowned at the sight of flowers in a vase on the counter. He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. He walked towards the bathroom, poking his head in where you were taking a shower.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?” You called out from the shower.

“Someone got you flowers?” He asked as you turned off the water and blindly stuck your hand out for a towel. Takuma pushed further into the bathroom, handing you a towel. He waited a moment as you stepped out, wrapped yourself in a towel and wrung out your hair. Takuma leaned on the doorway, a pout on his face as you glanced over at him. You took in his pout and furrowed your brows.

“A coworker got them for me...Not sure who though.” You said, reaching out and gently grabbing the hem of his shirt.

“It’s not Chad is it?” He asks as you pull him to you.

“It’s not Brad, and getting his name wrong won’t make him go away, ya know?” You tease as he smirks.

“Oops.” Takuma shrugs. “So a secret admirer?”

“Uh huh. Did you read the card?” You ask as Takuma idly twists a strand of your hair with his index finger. He shakes his head. “Well apparently they like that I read while eating my lunch, they say it makes me look smart.” You fill him in as Takuma narrows his eyes.

“You eat alone?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I like to eat in the courtyard.”

“I’ll have lunch with you from now on.” He says as a smile fits to your lips at his obvious jealousy. “I don’t want some bozo thinking he can just write love poems and watch you from afar.”

“Baby, are you jealous?” You tease.

“Yes.” He says without hesitation making you giggle as you run a hand through his hair, tucking it out of his face. He leans into your touch. “You do know how hot you are right?” He asks, making you laugh.

“Calm down, I brought the flowers home for my mom, she likes daisies. And I’d love lunch with you everyday, even if it’s so you can puff out your chest.”

“No... no puffing of chests is happening. I’m just going to have lunch with my insanely hot girlfriend everyday for the rest of time.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, waiting for Hiromi to get home. When he finally arrived late, he quietly stepped in through the front door, not wanting to wake you as you slept on the couch. There was an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers on the table by the couch that he glanced at before setting his things down and pulling off his jacket, loosening his tie. You stir awake on the couch, slowly sitting up as you yawn and stretch.

“You’re home late.” You remarked as he made his way over to you, running a hand through his hair before he’s pulled down next to you. He chuckles warmly as you sidle up beside him, placing your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Did I wake you, love?”

“No… it’s alright.” You smile sleepily as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Waiting up for me?”

“Always.” You answer fondly. A small hum left his lips as he started to shower you with kisses, trailing down to your jaw and down to your neck. He held you close, grip tightening a bit.

"You didn't have to, I told you to go to bed even if I came home late"

“Well I wanted to thank you for the flowers. What was the occasion?”

“Flowers? I didn’t send them love.” Hiromi points out, still pressing absentminded kisses to your jaw and neck. It was hard to focus on his words. “I’ll toss' em for you.” He intones, pulling you into his lap.

“You’re not jealous are you?” You ask heatedly against his lips.

“They’re cheap, baby, they'll be dead by the morning.” He states, pulling you closer by the hips. “And rightfully so.”

“So you are jealous.” You tease feeling his grip tighten.

“And if I was?” He asks, voice low and warm, a slightly teasing tone to his voice. You laugh as he peppers more kisses.

“I’d say it looks good on you.”

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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

Note

Hi sweetheart🫶🏻🤍

I was wondering if you could do a Hugh Jackman x kind! fem reader, where he's having a tiring day and comes back home. You've cooked him a nice dinner and made pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls for desert🫶🏻He appreciates the settlement and wants to give something back, but it was his night.

I love your fics bbg <3

A warm fall night

Hugh jackman x fem!reader

Warnings: smut/fluff, minors dni!

P in v (wrap it up guys), creampie, oral m!receiving, couch sex , slight mention of alcohol (not too much), reader has hair lmk if I forgot something🙏🏼

masterlist

A/n: hi bb! Thank you sm for always supporting me! 🫶🏻 sorry it took so long, but I hope u like this💋

The door to your home creaked open softly, and you heard the familiar shuffle of shoes against the doormat as Hugh stepped inside. The late evening sun cast an orange glow through the windows, but the air carried the first crisp hints of autumn. You glanced up from the kitchen counter, already knowing by the way he moved that it had been a long day. His shoulders were hunched with exhaustion, and the usual spark in his eyes had dimmed.

“Hey,” you greeted warmly, putting down the dish towel and walking over to him. “You’re home.”

Hugh turned toward you, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. Finally,” he said, his deep voice gravelly with fatigue. He placed his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes, letting out a heavy breath. He looked so worn down, and all you wanted was to make sure he left his troubles at the door tonight.

“You look tired honey” you observed softly, reaching up to smooth your hand across his arm in a comforting gesture.

“Long day. I feel like I’ve been running on fumes,” he admitted, leaning into your touch. “But it’s better now.” His eyes found yours, full of gratitude already.

“Well, I thought you might need something nice to come home to,” you said, guiding him toward the kitchen table. “Sit down and relax. I made your favourite." He sat down and looked up at you,"you are my favourite"

Hugh looked at the food and raised a brow, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite his tiredness. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Of course I did,” you replied with a soft laugh. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I wanted to make sure you could unwind tonight.”

The table was set simply but beautifully, with candles flickering in the center and a hearty meal waiting for him. Grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and buttery mashed potatoes, comfort food at its finest. You placed a glass of red wine in front of him, watching as he took it all in. He looked touched, almost overwhelmed for a moment.

��This looks incredible,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“You don’t have to,” you said, smiling as you sat down across from him. “Just enjoy it.”

As Hugh dug into the meal, you could see the tension start to leave his body. Each bite seemed to relax him a little more, and you felt a sense of satisfaction just watching him unwind. It was rare for him to take a moment for himself; he was always giving so much to everyone else, always on the go. Tonight, though, you were determined to make sure he felt appreciated.

After a while, you cleared the plates and returned to the kitchen, a playful grin on your face. “I hope you saved some room,” you called over your shoulder.

“For what?” Hugh asked, leaning back in his chair, his interest piqued.

You turned around, holding a tray of pumpkin spiced cinnamon rolls, the golden-brown swirls drizzled with a light glaze, still warm from the oven. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, instantly making the room feel cozier.

His eyes widened as you set the tray down on the table. “You made these? You’ve been busy.”

“Just wanted to make sure dessert was special too,” you said, sliding one of the rolls onto a plate and handing it to him. “Pumpkin spice is perfect this time of year, don’t you think?”

Hugh chuckled, taking a bite and closing his eyes in pure enjoyment. “You’re spoiling me tonight,” he said, his voice filled with warmth. “These are amazing.”

You sat down next to him, watching him enjoy the dessert, your heart swelling with affection. There was something so satisfying about knowing you’d given him a bit of comfort after such a hard day.

Hugh took your hand across the table, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of your palm. “I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “You always seem to know exactly what I need.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand. “Tonight’s all about you. You give so much of yourself to everyone, I just wanted to make sure you get a little something back.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with a deep sense of appreciation. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You could see it in his eyes, the weariness fading, replaced by something softer, more relaxed. He had needed this—a night to feel cared for, a night where he didn’t have to be “on” or worry about anyone else.

After dessert, you led him over to the couch, the soft glow of the candles still flickering in the background as you settled down beside him. He stretched out, pulling you into his arms, and you both melted into the cushions, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you.

“This,” Hugh said quietly, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned into him, “is perfect. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to just... be in a while.”

You nestled closer, your head resting on his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. “You deserve it. No need to do anything tonight. Just relax.”

Hugh chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know it’s supposed to be my night, but I can’t help it. I want to give something back.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, smiling. “You being here is more than enough.”

But he wasn’t having it. Gently, he shifted, pulling you on his lap and his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his voice was low and sincere. “You make everything better, you know that?”

You shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath yours. As you moved, you could feel him growing beneath you, the subtle shift in his breath giving him away. His hands instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as you began to gently grind against him, your movements slow and deliberate.

A soft groan escaped his lips, his head falling back as he gave in to the sensation, eyes fluttering closed. The way he responded to you, completely immersed, sent a thrill through your body. You reveled in the control you held, the connection building between you.

But just as the heat began to build, you slowly pulled away, rising from his lap with a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. His eyes opened, clouded with desire as he watched your every move. Without breaking the gaze, you reached down, undoing the button of his pants, your fingers deft and patient.

You freed him gently, your touch light and careful, feeling the weight of the moment between you. You knelt before him, your lips finding his dick.

Each sound he made, each quiet groan or sharp intake of breath—spurred you on, filling the room with a charged energy. His hand flew to your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands as he guided you with barely perceptible movements, letting you set the pace. Every motion was filled with deliberate care, a mixture of affection and desire growing stronger between you.

You could feel the tension in his body mounting, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His breathing became heavier, ragged with anticipation, and you knew he was close. His hips bucked slightly, and the warmth of his body against you sent a wave of satisfaction coursing through you. You could sense him nearing the edge, so you quickened your pace, eager to give him everything he wanted.

But then, just as his breathing hitched and his grip in your hair tightened, he suddenly stopped you. His hand slid from your hair to your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made your heart race, your breath catching as you realized how close he was. A soft whine escaped your lips, the loss of contact leaving you yearning for more, but his gaze, dark and full of desire, held you in place.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, thick with need. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you shiver in anticipation. “I want you to ride me, babygirl.”

The way he said it, so calm yet commanding, sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, a flush of heat rising in your chest as your mind raced. Without a word, you nodded and took your pants off, a smile playing on your lips as you shifted your weight and moved to straddle him. His hands immediately found your waist, guiding you into position, his fingers digging into your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him beneath you igniting every nerve in your body. His low groan vibrated through the air, and you felt his grip tighten as you sank down fully, taking him in. For a moment, you stayed still, letting the intensity of the connection settle between you both. The room was filled with quiet breaths and the electric hum of anticipation, each of you lost in the feeling of the other.

His hands slid from your waist up your sides, fingers grazing your skin as he urged you to move. You began to roll your hips, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that matched the deep, unspoken connection between you. His head fell back against the couch, his eyes closing as he let out a soft, guttural moan. The way he reacted to your every movement, the way his body responded so naturally to yours, only encouraged you to go further.

As you moved, your hands found his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his shirt. The friction, the closeness—it all felt so perfect, like the two of you were made for this moment. His hands never left your body, guiding you, lifting you, as you moved together in sync. His breath was ragged now, his voice low and strained as he whispered your name, filling the space between groans of pleasure.

The pace quickened, and the tension between you built with every movement, each of you caught in a loop of need and desire. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, urging you on. Your bodies moved in perfect unison, your breath mingling with his, the closeness of it all making your heart race.

Your pace quickened even more as you felt him tense beneath you, his grip on you becoming almost desperate. His groans grew louder, and you knew he was close again—this time, you weren’t going to stop. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, your lips barely brushing his as you whispered, “I’ love you.”

With that, everything between you seemed to reach its peak. His body responded to yours in perfect rhythm, and together you chased your realease, both completely enveloped in the heat of each other. "I love you to sweetheart. So much.."he moaned as he came into you.

The rest of the night was spent in quiet bliss, the two of you wrapped in each other’s presence. Hugh’s exhaustion slowly faded as the night wore on, replaced by a calm contentment. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work or responsibilities, just you, and the warmth of the home you had created together.

As you both drifted off into sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that tonight had been exactly what he needed. A reminder that no matter how hard the world was on him, there was always a place for him to rest, always a place where he was cherished. And that place was with you.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru @corvusmorte

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine smut #wolverine #marvel smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #hugh jackman x reader

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doumadono · 9 months ago

Text

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!Reader, metal dick, oral (f & m receiving)

Synopsis: after a tough mission, you and Boothill have a drink in his room. Little do you know, this drink will lead you to uncovering all of his secrets

OTHER FANDOMS MASTERLIST

Boothill's cybernetic body is large and imposing, and you can't help but feel small and fragile in his presence. But despite his intimidating appearance, he has a certain charm that you find irresistible.

That night, as you're sharing a drink in Boothill's quarters after a tough mission, you can't help but stare at his metal-plated chest and powerful arms more than you ever allowed yourself to before.

Boothill notices your gaze and smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I see you're checkin' me out, honey," he says, his voice deep and gravelly. "Would ya like to see more?"

You nod, your heart racing with excitement as you set your drink aside. You can't help but stare, your mouth slightly agape.

"You're pretty much obsessed with me, ain't ya?" Boothill chuckles and gets up from his seat, setting his glass down. He saunters towards you with a mischievous grin on his face. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slowly begins to unbuckle his thick leather belt.

His metallic fingers clink against the cold steel of the buckle, sending shivers down your spine as you bite your lower lip, sucking it in your mouth. With a flick of his wrist, the belt comes undone, and Boothill lets it drop to the floor with a thud. His pants are oh so tight, revealing the tantalizing curve of his metal pelvis. He takes his time, savoring the anticipation in your eyes as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his tight material pants. Inch by inch, he reveals the smooth, polished metal of his metallic hips. The muscles in his thighs ripple and flex with the movement, causing the intricate circuitry beneath his metallic skin to gleam in the dim light. The metallic dick springs up free. It has a polished steel surface. The shaft is smooth and thick, made of titanium, and there's a line of circuits running along the underside, imitating the prominent vein that would be present on a human penis. The mushroom-shaped head is plump. Boothill's testicles, too, are a marvel to behold. Made of the same sleek titanium as the rest of his manhood, they hang heavy and full. He steps out of his pants, his metal dick bobbing with each movement. Then Boothill chuckles, a deep rumble that seems to emanate from the very core of his being. "Like what ya see, honey?” he asks, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You can't help but reach out to touch his testicles. "Gosh," you gasp.

"I take it for yes," he says, his voice full of confidence.

You nod again, unable to speak.

He takes your hand and places it on his cock, encouraging you to touch him.

You wrap your fingers around his metallic shaft, feeling its coldness and hardness.

Boothill lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward as you begin to stroke him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "I've been dreamin' of buryin' my cock deep inside your tiny cunt, makin' ya scream my name as I fill you with my seed."

Your heart races at the thought of Boothill's cock inside you. You're already wet with anticipation, your pussy aching to be filled.

Boothill must sense your desire because he suddenly picks you up and carries you to his little cot. He lays you down gently and begins to kiss you, his narrow lips hot and demanding.

You respond eagerly, your tongue exploring his mouth and sharp teeth as you taste the whiskey on his breath.

Boothill's metallic hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. "Ever been with a cyborg before?" he asks simply after making sure to leave a hickey on the side of your neck.

You shake your head, your heart pounding in your chest. "No, I haven't…"

Boothill's grin is wide and wild. "Well, then, darlin', it's about time you did." He pulls you closer, his lips crashing down on yours yet again. His tongue explores your mouth, tasting and teasing.

You can feel the coolness of his metal body against yours, and you moan into the kiss.

Meantime, Boothill's hands roam over your body, his touch setting you on fire. He cups your breasts with one strong palm, his fingers tweaking your nipples through your bra until they're hard and sensitive. Boothill's other hand slips down, directly inside your pants. His cold, metallic fingers find your clit, and he starts to rub slow circles around it through your panties, grinning as he feels the damp spot in the middle of the fabric. "Naughty."

You gasp, your hips bucking against his hand.

With a quick movement, he rips your shirt and bra, and opens your trousers, swiftly pulling them down, tugging them off your legs. He reaches your breasts and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting gently with his sharp, shark-like teeth.

You cry out, your back arching as he continues to pleasure you.

His hand travels down your body, his fingers finding your wet pussy. He strokes your clit, causing you to gasp with pleasure. "You're so wet for me," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. "I can't wait to taste you, and to feel you wrapped around my cock." He drops to his knees in front of the cot, pulling you to the edge. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your pussy to him. His tongue darts out, licking your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, your hands going to his two-colour hair, holding him in place.

Boothill starts to lick and suck, his tongue delving deeper and deeper into your slick wetness. He eats your cunny out in earnest, flicking his tongue against your clitoris in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath. From time to time, he makes sure to stick his tongue into your warm entrance, eagerly drinking all of juices that are dribbling out of you. Sometimes he gives kitten-like licks, while other times he licks in a single stripe, starting from your entrance, through your slit, and directly to your clitoris; his tongue flexing.

Soon, a cold, metallic finger prods your entrance too, quickly joined by a second as it slides in. The cyborg grinds the heel of his hand against your swollen clit as he works his fingers in and out of you.

"Don't stop," you beg, your hips moving in sync with his fingers.

And Boothill doesn't stop. He keeps going, his other hand slapping your clitoris lightly. He attached his mouth to the swollen bud yet again, sucking hardly. And then, with one final lick, you come, your moans filling the air as your runny juices cover his chin after you grind your pussy against his face a few times.

Eagerly and quickly, you drop to your knees, the wooden floorboards digging into your skin. You lick your lips, savoring the anticipation, and then lean in, pressing your mouth to his iron cock.

Boothill's fingers tangle in your hair as you begin to work the metal, your tongue gliding along its length. The taste is foreign, yet enticing, and you find yourself growing more and more aroused with each passing moment. Your own desire is pooling between your legs and thick juices are dribbling down your thighs as you suck the metallic dick.

The sounds of your moans and the wet slurping of your mouth on the iron fills the room.

You continue to lick and tease the plump head of his iron dick, your tongue tracing the intricate design of the metal.

Boothill's breathing grows heavier, and you can sense his growing need for release. You open your mouth and take the head of his cock between your lips. You slide further down the shaft, your lips tight around the steel as you deepthroat him.

Boothill groans, his hips bucking involuntarily as you work your magic. "Fuck, honey, just like that, you're doin' such a good job down there."

Your hands roam his body, exploring the hard, cold contours of his chest and abs as you keep on sucking his cock, looking up at him with your best doe eyes.

With a loud groan, he yanks your head off his cock and forces you back on the cot. He continues to stroke your clit as he positions himself at your entrance, his cock nudging against your slick pussy lips. He pushes in, slowly at first, but then with more force.

You moan as you sense him filling you up to the brim, your pussy stretching painfully to accommodate his thick girth. "Oh, fuck!"

Boothill pauses, giving you time to adjust to his size. "Fuuuuck. You feel amazing," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight and hot, warmin' my dick up." He begins to move, his hips thrusting forward as he fucks you. Boothill starts to thrust harder, his hips slapping against yours.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You can feel another orgasm building up inside of you, and you know it's going to be huge.

Boothill's thrusts become more urgent, his cock hitting your G-spot with each stroke. The cyborg pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto his strong forearms. The wet slap of Boothill's hips against your pussy, the obscene squelching from your dripping wet pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you make you arch your back and moan like a whore. Your pussy is clenching painfully around Boothill's cock as if trying to milk his cock right on the spot.

He must feel it too because he begins to thrust harder and faster, his balls slapping against your slit. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urges, his voice strained with pleasure. "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."

With a few more thrusts of his, you explode, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. The walls of your pussy clamp down on the cyborg's cock.

Boothill follows soon after, his cock twitching as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you, filling you with a thick seed. "Yee-haw! Fuuuuck, fuuuuuck! Yeees!" He gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then he finally pulls out with a groan.

The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene, so is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the mushroom-shaped tip of his metallic cock until he withdraws completely.

You lay there, panting and spent, covered in a cold sweat as Boothill lays down beside you, his strong arm draped over your waist. "That was amazing, honey," he says, his voice soft and satisfied as he place small kisses to your bare shoulder.

You nod, still unable to speak. You've never experienced anything like this before, and you know that you'll never forget it. "I think I fell in love with your metal rod," you chuckle quietly, your cheeks going beet red.

special tags: @shonen-brainrot @crystalwolfblog @hornydynamight @doumaslotus @bakugoscunny

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nanamincreampie · 1 month ago

Text

Post-Shibuya Nanami

Nanami Kento x Black plus size reader

Warnings: jjk spoilers, post-shibuya, no angst just pure fluff, giving my man the happy ending he deserves

Nanami lay in the infirmary bed, his usually sharp and composed demeanor softened by the lingering effects of anesthesia. Shoko had assured you he would be fine, but the sight of him battered and bandaged sent a pang through your chest. The room smelled of antiseptic, the hum of machines monitoring his vitals providing a steady rhythm to your worried thoughts.

You sat by his bedside, your hands nervously clutching the edge of the chair. The braids you had so lovingly installed a few weeks ago brushed your shoulders, their deep mahogany highlights catching the harsh fluorescent light. Your dark skin, smooth and glowing with undertones of honey and bronze, seemed out of place against the stark white of the infirmary. Despite the sterile setting, you radiated warmth, your full lips slightly parted in anticipation, your curves spilling over the seat of the chair in a way that made you feel self-conscious, though Nanami always reassured you he adored every inch of you.

A soft groan pulled you from your thoughts. Nanami’s hazel eyes fluttered open, their golden flecks dimmed but still breathtaking. His gaze wandered briefly, scanning the room as if piecing together where he was, before finally landing on you.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. His eyes widened slightly, the grogginess fading as he stared at you, utterly captivated. The crease between his brows smoothed, replaced by something softer something reverent. “Am I dreaming?” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly from disuse.

Your heart clenched, and you leaned forward instinctively. “No, Ken, you’re awake,” you replied softly, your voice carrying the warmth you knew he needed.

He continued to stare, his eyes tracing every detail of your face as if committing it to memory. The curve of your jaw, the fullness of your lips, the way the light danced across your skin all of it seemed to hold him in a trance. “You’re… breathtaking,” he murmured, the words slipping out as though he couldn’t contain them.

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest. “Ken, it’s me,” you said gently, brushing your fingers against his.

“I don’t know who you are,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, “but I think I’m falling for you.”

A bittersweet smile tugged at your lips. Before you could respond, his eyes dropped to the wedding band on your finger. His brow furrowed, and a look of guilt flickered across his face. “I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head weakly. “I shouldn’t… I think I have a wife. Someone who’s waiting for me. I don’t know why I can’t remember her face, but I know she’s out there.”

“Ken,” you called softly, squeezing his hand. He looked up at you, confusion swirling in his gaze. “You do have a wife. And she’s sitting right here.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before realization began to dawn in his eyes. His gaze dropped back to your intertwined hands, lingering on the wedding bands the matching gems cut from the same diamond. Slowly, his eyes returned to your face, and the fog lifted.

“You’re… my wife?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Yes, Ken,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m your wife.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep, shuddering breath. A shaky smile tugged at his lips, and his thumb brushed over the back of your hand. “Hi, beautiful,” he murmured, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

“Hi, Ken,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping you as tears welled in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry for worrying you, for scaring you. During the fight… my life flashed before my eyes, and all I could think about was you.”

Your grip on his hand tightened, grounding him as he spoke.

“I’m done,” he said with quiet determination. “I’m retiring. No more missions, no more risks. I want to live. I want to go to Malaysia like we planned. I want to wake up next to you every day.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you nodded, his words wrapping around your heart like a promise. “Then let’s go, Ken,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. “Let’s live.”

In that moment, as he gazed at you with an intensity that made your knees weak even now, you knew his love had only deepened. He wasn’t just remembering you; he was falling for you all over again, which was beautiful.

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amisunderstoodgoddess · 1 year ago

Text

— point of no return

rating: explicit. 18+ only

summary: you're used to hiding your true feelings for your best friend, but tonight is the point of no return in your relationship.

Author's note: fic based on the Chaise Atlantic soundtrack - seriously, there's nothing more addictive than Jeremiah Fisher and Chase Atlantic.

English is not my first language

I apologize for any errors you may find.

"Jesus, you keep settling for these idiots..." You hear your friend Jeremiah's deep voice approaching you in the empty hall; the sound of the music and the banter of your friends downstairs is now more muffled.

His disdainful stance changes dramatically in the space of a heartbeat, his beautiful blue eyes soften and harden right in front of you as he looks all over your body for physical harm.

"Wh-what?" You ask as you try to wipe your tears quickly, hoping he didn't see it, forcing a shaky smile.

"Your boyfriend, or whatever he is, just passed me on the stairs and didn't even have the decency to respond when I spoke to him and-and...hey..." He trails off when he gets the full view of your face - your face flushed and wet with tears.

"What happened? Did he do something you didn't want? By God, if he did anything, I swear it-" he's grumbling and widening his already imposing posture, obviously prepared to chase your boyfriend for explanations - ex boyfriend, you mentally correct yourself. You would have laughed, if you had any presence of mind for it.

"Jeremiah." You take his hands in yours, so small and delicate compared to his, drawing his attention. "He didn't do anything…well, actually he did, but…it's complicated."

You know he doesn't understand, not with the confused way you're acting, but you're both interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Jeremiah acts quickly and pulls you into his room, locking the door before anyone sees the two of you.

He backs you up against the door without any warning, putting an arm to the side of your head so you can't escape. You try to ignore the swarm of butterflies that dance in your belly as he looks at you through those long dark lashes. The scent of his masculine cologne – sandalwood and something warm and rich, like the purest heat of the sun, something that seemed to cling constantly to his skin – now, suddenly enveloping you too.

A flush forms on your cheeks and you look away from him, embarrassed by his proximity.

Jeremiah is cozy. This is a fact. There's no way you can sit next to him on the couch, side by side, without his arm around you or his head resting in your lap. That's how it's always been since you became friends years ago.

But the way he's looking at you now, body so close to yours, eyes searching yours with sincere interest… somehow it feels different. It feels new.

"Tell me what happened, please." He says seriously, way too serious for him, cupping your chin with long fingers so you'll face him again.

"No-..." You take a deep breath, "it was no big deal. We just broke up. That's all." You want to say this without crying, but tears are already pooling in your waterline once again.

There are a few seconds of silence, filled only by both of your breaths. He just looks at you, carefully assessing your face.

Just when you think he's not going to say anything else, Jeremiah sighs, long and almost relieved, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You frown at him and he has the decency to at least look embarrassed.

"Sorry, sorry! I know you feel terrible right now, but honey, breaking up with that guy was one of the best things you could have ever done. I can't pretend I'm sad about it." He says smoothing the flushed skin of your cheeks fondly.

"Actually, he was the one who broke up with me." You sniff, biting your lip nervously.

Jeremiah freezes and blinks a few times like an owl, processing what you just said.

"What?!" It suddenly bursts. "W-why? Why would he do that? You decide to break up with him…fine, understandable…but why the hell would he break up with you?" He's clearly nonplussed, brows furrowed and curls brushing his forehead as he shakes his head in denial.

"I don't know. He said something vague about me being too needy...he said that sometimes I 'feel too much', whatever that means."

This seems to drive him even more out of his mind.

"What the fuck is that explanation? He wants to tell how you should be, is that it?"

You sigh and try to slip under his arm, overwhelmed by the whole situation, but he squeezes your waist and pulls you back against the door, bringing your bodies even closer.

“That's not what he meant and you know it, Jere. You're taking what he said out of context and that's not fair."

It feels like a barrier has burst after your words, something that once held Jeremiah to sanity and is now no longer there.

"Fair?" He lets out a sharp sigh and shakes his head in disbelief. An oddly cruel smile curves his full lips. "You know what's not 'fair'? Seeing your best friend settle for someone who is beneath her in every way. They don't even deserve to lick the dirt off your boots, Y/N. You deserve so much more than that."

It's your turn to smile wryly. “Then how come no one wants me, Jere? My last two relationships ended in a matter of weeks and you know it. It's the most they can handle by my side. It's time to see reality. They're right, there's something wrong with me."

You are really crying right now. Heartbroken. Not for Mike. You really don't care about him, to be brutally honest. He was just another attempt to fill the emptiness.

The emptiness that left your aching and vulnerable.

Jeremiah reaches out to you, pulling you in and wrapping you in the warmth of his broad chest. "Shit. I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just hate seeing you like this." He strokes yout hair and you sniffle into your shirt. “But you need to know that this is not true. People can't help but want to be with you. You are light. Everyone loves you.”

He pulls your head back, making you look at him again, almost touching your forehead to his, bending his tall body to maintain eye contact with you. Pale blue eyes meet yours, watery and fragile, and for just an instant, you know your eyes betray your secret hope, keeping your own love for him secret. Your eyes disconnect from the intense eye contact and look anxiously at his lips for just a second before re-establishing the connection.

You swallow hard and try to steel your resolve.

You can't do that, you can't confuse the common charisma and intense affection that Jeremiah expresses for basically everyone, with what you really want him to feel for you.

You cannot project your own feelings onto him.

You're not sure when that had changed. When did you start to think differently about Jeremiah, your best friend and constant presence in your life growing up. You moved in your teens and you both didn't have contact for a few years. And since you came back to Cousins, you decided you couldn't risk spoiling your friendship with mixed feelings - friendship that still remained strong, like when you were kids, like not a day had passed since you left.

But Jere certainly grew up while you were gone, and so did you.

Your feelings for him were no longer innocent.

Sometimes you could have sworn the feeling was mutual. You couldn't escape his smoldering gazes when he found you in the kitchen, sitting on the stool wearing one of his hoodies that looked giant on your smaller frame. He would confidently stand in front of you, leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee while his eyes roam your legs, not saying a single word to you.

Despite that, you weren't entirely sure. And Jeremiah was too important for you to risk ruining your friendship.

It was getting tough, though. Especially with the way he was looking at you right now.

There was a risk in that, you knew that. You were friends. Your family, friends, and social group were all intertwined. You weren't entirely sure how he felt. It could all come crashing down around you if it went wrong, whatever it was.

There would certainly be questions and there was a lot to think about. But, God, it really was hard for you to think of anything while you were pinned against his bedroom door, with his thigh wedged between your legs - testing, probing, discovering...

Maybe it was the alcohol you drank earlier, maybe it was just heartbreak from the humiliation of being rejected by Mike, maybe you just went really crazy and out of your mind after all...

But before you could think, you were acting.

You look at him, your eyes are still watery but your mouth is set in a firm line, something needy in your expression. “And you, Jere?”

He sighs: "What about me?"

"You want me?" It's a challenge. You say the words without really allowing yourself to think about the consequences. Part of you is so tired of it all - of pretending and hiding.

Your eyes follow the sweeping fall of his golden-brown curls across his forehead to his Adam's apple, which rises and falls with the way he swallows. You lick your lips. You want him. You've wanted him for so long. But there was always this fear of seeking more. He's your best friend and honestly, you don't think you could handle losing him.

He no.

Not Jeremiah.

He's always been the main constant in your life and if you didn't have him…you didn't want to think about what that would be like.

So why, why did you open your mouth?

You are so scared.

You think you might be going crazy.

“Y/N.” He swallows hard. You think he might try to deny it, and, as much as you shouldn't, you're the one approaching him this time, brushing your noses together...eliminating all doubt from the context of your question.

You just need to know. Even if it hurts. Your heart feels like it wants to get out of your chest, but you choose to throw caution to the wind - you've already gone too far. Your hand reaches out, sliding over his nice shirt, feeling the hardness of the muscles along his chest. His hands wrap around your waist and are so big that they reach your back, pulling you closer.

He's looking at your mouth and you think 'fuck', grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down as you go up on your toes, crushing your mouth to his.

He doesn't hesitate. He's leaning your hard against the door, his hand tangled in your hair as he returns the kiss fervently, sliding his lips over yours and pressing your body to his.

The kiss is everything and nothing you expect.

It doesn't start out subtly or in the weird, messy way that first kisses between two people typically characterize. No, this kiss is intense, hot and tastes right. Like he's kissed you a thousand times before.

He bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth and deepen the kiss. At the same time, one of his hands comes up to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your mind spin.

His tongue tastes like mint bubblegum as he kisses you hard, deep and, oh, it's too much and not enough at the same time, because you think you'll never get tired of the taste of him - it burns you deep. You moan into his mouth and it causes something like a growl in the back of his throat. Something dangerous and full of need.

You move against him, wanting more, but the sliding of tongues and lips eventually overcomes you and you forget what you were going to do. When he stops the kiss to inhale for just a moment, sucking, tugging at your bottom lip, you barely have time to think before he's crushing his mouth to yours again. His teeth chatter softly and you feel your heart skip and stutter and pound at the intimacy.

His other arm pulls your thigh around his hips and he pins you against the door with his body, crushing you with broad shoulders and wet mouth and desperate intentions. You squeeze a handful of curly hair between your fingers and pull, and he sighs against your mouth in drunken relief.

And when he pulls back a little, blue eyes slitted, entranced, looking chained and addicted - vaguely you think that no one has ever kissed quite like Jeremiah Fisher.

His hand is still on your throat like a necklace, the other holding your leg around his waist as his lips trace along your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You cup his face with trembling fingers and pull him back into your mouth, catching his soft bottom lip between your teeth in an amused bite.

He moans into your mouth. “Y/N…princess…I've wanted you for so long. God."

“J–Jere…” You whimper and unconsciously push your hips into him, rocking against his hard, defined abs.

"Yes dear? Are you well? Still okay?" he asks, needing to know if it was still okay for you, if you wanted to stop.

You nod quickly – God, everything's more than okay – and he grunts contentedly, pressing your hips down so you can feel…oh…hard and big, hidden inside his pants, rubbing just once against you - just so you feel what you're doing with him.

You both moan at the contact, his thick fingers curling a little more into your throat. "I need your words baby, I need you to say it's okay."

You shake your head nonstop, starting to feel distant. “Please,” you murmur. “Please, Jeremiah, just—” your voice starts to crack, starts to shake, and he silences you, kissing you before you can say his name again.

You lean against him, desperately tugging at his shirt as you become frustrated with his intense presence. You crave his skin, but all you can hold onto is the soft cotton that hides what you want.

Sensing your uneasiness, Jeremiah smiles into your lips and holds your other leg against his body, squeezing you into him as he leads you towards his bed.

You barely hit the soft mattress before he pounces on you, kissing your lips vigorously, devouring you inside and out. His big palms are flat against the mattress, perfectly framing your head where you're lying, but it's not enough.

Of course, it's not enough. You want his hands on your body, taking everything he can from you and giving you back until you're exhausted and panting.

You pull hard on the shirt that still frames his broad shoulders, dragging the fabric up and away from his skin. In a desperate sigh, you spill syllables onto his lips, and all you can do is hope he has some mercy.

“Jere,” you say again, breathless and close to tears, revealing your surge of pent-up need for him. "Take it off. Please."

And he does. Finally, impossibly, he does.

You watch with glittering eyes as he drops to his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, the warm light from his room spreading over his golden skin until he glows. A perfect package of defined abs muscles, broad chest and shoulders, strong arms with veins running the entire length, curly hair falling around his face, and of course, blue eyes a few shades darker with desire...he's a like a Greek god.

You watch him with desire, watch his shirt fall to the floor beside the bed, watch his deft hands reach out to you, fingers hooking under your own shirt that's too big for your body.

Same exchange, maybe. You lose your own shirt to his purposeful hands, leaving you with nothing more than the plain bra you usually wear and little shorts that expose too much skin. Jeremiah pushes the big body back to yours, intoxicatingly but patiently, and kisses the last breath of your lungs until you're writhing and clawing at his skin.

It's unimaginable when your skin finally presses against each other. Bare bodies and desperate desires, nothing is left but desire burning between your flesh. You moan and allow Jeremiah to have you however he wants, and he wants to trace his lips across your front in a smooth line of kisses, fluidly unclasping your bra and pushing it off your body like the thing is an offense to him.

"God, fuck, you don't know how long I've wanted this…" By the time he got the thing off your body, his lips were all over your neck and collarbones. Kissing and sucking your skin into his mouth, leaving his marks on you. Your fingers dug into his hair and pulled, the reward was a strangled moan you could feel against your skin. "Fucking long, baby."

And suddenly he was leaning down with his mouth on your breast as his hand came up to caress the other.

Another sound, something between a moan and a gasp, escaped your mouth as he licked your nipple with his hot tongue. You tried to cover your mouth with your hand, but he pulled it away and placed it on his shoulders once more.

“I want to hear you, princess.” he whispered into your damp skin, looking up at you from where his face was buried in your breast and gently biting your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. "You're so fucking perfect, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with desire as he teased one of your nipples with his tongue. While the hand that wasn't occupied with your breast found its way between your legs, pushing your shorts off your body with a few tugs.

"Ah, fuck…" He sighed into your nipple, tingling your skin, feeling how wet your panties were as he probed you with two fingers, circling your clit over the fragile tissue tentatively once. You let out your most embarrassing sound yet: a high-pitched moan, whimper, something like that. You'd be mortified if you had the mental capacity for it.

But Jeremiah only grew up listening you.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asks in his husky voice, kissing your belly and reaching down.

"Yes, Jere, please...I want this so badly..."

His big blue eyes blinked at you from under the heavy curtain of lashes, staring at you so intently you thought you would come at that moment.

Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath as you watched him push the soaked fabric of your panties to the side, still not taking his eyes off you. And slowly, as if he were mocking you, his lips finally descended.

You threw your head back with a silent cry at the feel of his mouth on you, and then he was there, his tongue parting your wet lips and plunging inside you. His teeth grazed your swollen clit in a single pulse of pleasure that had you squirming involuntarily, making room only for him to get his hands under you and grab your ass, pulling you closer to him. The position allowed him the freedom to tongue fuck you, moan against your folds, and the vibrations combined with the lewd feel of him inside you like that…you had already reached the point of no return.

"Damn, you taste even better than I thought baby…" He mumbles drunkenly before returning to tease your clit with his lips, his tongue running fervently over the nub. His hands moved beneath you once more, resting your legs on his shoulder. Jeremiah looked down at your glossy folds, almost shaking with excitement. "You look yummy enough to eat, kitten," he said with a wild laugh. His lips found your clit once more.

You screamed, your fingers pulling at his hair. "Jere!"

You cried his name.

He growled into your folds at the needy sound of your voice.

Within moments, you felt yourself getting more and more tense. He moaned, sucking the sensitive flesh once more and you screamed. That small action was all it took to push you over the edge. Every muscle in your body snapped and you cried his name with passion. And he continued his cares, long after your body had stopped shaking.

Impatience quickly replaces momentary lethargy and you find yourself gently pulling his head away from you, still flushed and panting. "Jere, please, for God's sake..."

You don't even know what you're begging for anymore. All you know is what you want. You want his touch, this newfound pleasure. You want it all.

He licks his lips and stands quickly, pulling his pants and underwear off his body as he lets you look at every inch of his exposed body.

His cock is the most spectacular thing you've ever seen and you try to hide your shock; he's the perfect balance of long and thick, more than enough to let you know your pussy will be full, struggling to accommodate him.

Maybe he'll leave you with a memory, a delicious pain. Something to remember that night.

You desperately want to remember that. And you want him to remember you too - like this; hot, sweaty and needing him.

He crawls across the bed until he's on top of you once more, all golden skin and defined muscles, sun-kissed hair and cock leaking precum.

You don't think you've ever seen anything as beautiful as Jeremiah.

Your mouth waters, your eyes reveal your thoughts as you stare at him. The glow in that pretty face makes you hesitantly, shyly reach out and curl your fingers around him.

"You are so beautiful." You murmur against his lips, his mouth opening with a snort and his pool blue eyes fluttering at the feel of your soft skin caressing his warm length. He's heavy and wet between your fingers and you can feel the veins pulsing along his length with each slow stroke of your palm.

"Ah princess, that's it…" he moans before white teeth hold his lower lip hostage as he looks at you from under dark lashes and heavy lids. The question hangs there, needy and urgent. You nod, fingers of your other hand encircling the back of his neck in a confident grip, legs spread wide as he aligns himself with your pussy with one hand and supports his weight on the bed with his forearm next to your face.

“Tell me what you want, my love, and I'll give it to you.” His cock jumped and you felt yourself shiver in anticipation as his head slid up and down your core. The swollen tip is shiny and wet on you and you can feel your pussy trying to pull him in with the shallow thrust when he finally presses against your entrance. He does this a few times and you whimper in frustration. He just smiles one of his wide, bright smiles, except this time there's something almost desperate there too. You wrap your legs around him and take a deep breath as his cock pushes into you, just the tip remaining immobile as he stares at you blushing back at him. He combs your hair back and places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I'm going to ruin our friendship baby…” he breathes and your heart almost sinks before he pulls away and slides inside you again. "You understand?"

He begins to sink into you in an almost affectionate rhythm, allowing you to become familiar with his length. You grab his arms and squeeze them tight each time he pushes himself an inch deeper into you, sighing and rolling your hips with him, grunting as he slowly advances on you.

You blush even more when he chuckles evilly at your reaction. But you can't stop. You're ready to cry, hypersensitive and aroused by the last orgasm, desperately needing another.

His cock moves inside you some more, your pussy straining to pull him in. You shudder, the sensation delicious and torrid and aching all at the same time.

Your eyes close when he's buried to the end.

“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, squinting his eyes and breathing through his mouth. "You were made for me, princess."

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for another hungry kiss and when he hits you, you whimper, biting his bottom lip. He growls and runs his nails along the skin of your neck until he grab the strands of your hair, eliciting a loud, pent-up moan from the back of your throat.

"Please..." You start and don't finish, rolling your eyes with each thrust.

"Please what? Use your words, kitten." He's being cruel. He knows how desperate you are, how much you want him. He is trying to exert control over you.

But you don't like it? A voice from the dark depths of your mind mocks.

Yes, you do.

"I want you to fuck me, Jere," you gasped, your eyes heavy with desire. "Take me...make me yours. Please..."

"Good girl." he mutters, sending a shiver down your spine. He runs his thumb over your breast until the nipple forms a hardened peak. "So good for me baby."

You can barely breathe, you feel so full. Your nails dug into his back and you both hiss at the sensation. He thrusts into you hard, his hips rocking back and forth inside you. All you can hear is the sound of your meowing and skin hitting skin.

His hands grip your hips so hard you're sure you're going to hurt tomorrow. You beg, a strangled cry breaking from your lips as the pressure you feel builds.

And so he's turning you two; a quick, fluid movement, without leaving your body, until you're sitting on top of him as he's sprawled across the bed. You're panting and flushed, embarrassed that you're the one setting the pace now, but your desire is too high for you to remain quiet for long.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, indicating that you like this. Jeremiah smiles softly and cups your hips, pushing you back once, then pulling you forward. He groans and clenches his jaw as you circle your hips to tease his hard cock.

You feel his hands caressing your ass, squeezing, pulling and pushing you onto his cock.

"Damn, you look so good like that." he breathed, his husky voice reverent, dreamy, needy… "I can't wait to see you mess all over my cock."

Suddenly, he seems to lose his temper, pulling you up and down the base of his throbbing cock with force, making you gasp in surprise. Despite that, you feel a sly smile stretch your own lips, the satisfaction of good sex coursing through your body becomes addictive. Not that you'd have much of a basis for comparison, having only done it once - fast, clumsy and unsatisfying.

God, nothing like this experience with Jeremiah. He should have been your first, you are absolutely sure.

You rest your hands on his sweat-damp chest, forcing yourself to move your hips up and down faster. You moan, looking up at him as you tease your clit into his pelvis.

Jeremiah plants his feet on the bed and slides his hands behind you to cup your ass cheeks, opening you and lifting his hips to slam you deeper. You gasp and dig your nails into the skin of his chest, eliciting a hoarse moan from the man.

He looks at you, all clenched jaw, furrowed brows and hazy blue eyes boring straight into you. A moment passes, then another, the feeling of something big coming closer and closer.

“I could barely handle it..." he admits hastily, taking one of his hands from your ass to spread it across your belly, squeezing and massaging your flesh. “The idea of someone else's fucking hands on you, princess. Of those little guys touching what's mine…” Jeremiah lets out a shuddering breath as his hand continues up your side, thumb gently brushing the underside of your breast, causing liquid heat to pool in your core.

You whimper as he cups your breasts and pinches your nipple, moaning at the feel of his fingers sending electricity to your swollen clit, making you roll your hips harder against him.

Your toes curl and your thighs flex as you approach the edge. You lean down to capture his lips with yours, skimming your tongue along his before sucking mint and sunshine on your tongue. He moans into your mouth as you let your tongue run past his teeth and along his bottom lip.

His grip on your ass is almost painful, making you move faster. Jeremiah licks his lips and watches you as he uses the heels of his feet to thrust faster and faster into you.

"That's it love, let go for me, I want to feel you come all over my cock."

You part your lips and scream as you crush your pussy against his pelvis and come hard with your rolling hips. Pleasure rushes over you like waves as you tighten around him. Jeremiah gasps and watches your slow, hazy descent. He grabs your hips and throws you onto your back once more.

You squeal as he stands between your thighs, looking up at you with a dangerous smile before slamming into you and making you scream a loud moan. There's no patience or time for you to recover, he fucks you up during your overstimulation.

"Come on, princess, you can handle it…" You moan in response to his wild words, and grip the sheets beside you as he slides his forearms under your knees to push your legs against your chest.

You struggle to look down when you see that his gaze is fixed between your legs, nearly drooling as his watch his own cock enter your wet pussy with each hard thrust. His lips part and his messy golden hair falls in front of his electric blue gaze. He licks his lips and groans as he pumps into you harder, pushing you back against the bed.

The sight makes your pussy clench with a fresh wave of need.

You lift your hips and bend slightly as he tilts his hips, hitting your G-spot and making your toes curl. You flex your thighs and grab the pillow to scream in ecstasy as you suddenly collapse around him once more. Surprise etched across your flushed, sweaty face as you widen your eyes. Jeremiah laughs, but he's barely holding it together now, as broken as you are.

Each thrust sends the bed creaking and hitting the wall, the sound drowned out only by the loud music and shouting from the lower level of the house.

He smiles, breathless and close to the edge.

“Come for me, Jere, please...” you murmured to him, exhausted and shaky. You want to tell him to cum inside you, you're on birth control and you trust Jeremiah above anyone else. Do you really want. But all you can do is stare at him through narrowed, watery eyes, silently begging him to finish inside you.

He seems to understand you, like he always does.

He moans and pushes your legs even closer towards your chest, focusing on his own growing climax. He quickens his hips and his knees widen into the bed as he approaches. Moans escape his lips as his thrusts become erratic.

“Fuck, fuck, I've wanted this for so long,” he moans loudly, desperately. "Fill that sweet pussy. Fuck, take it all baby..."

His nails dug into yours legs as he slammed harder, his hip bones colliding with the backs of your thighs. His throbbing cock inside you soggy, wet pussy was music to his ears, pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans and licks his lips before parting them in ecstasy, lost in the way his cock was fucking your tight pussy.

And then you hear his breath hitch. You can feel his cock swelling inside you, stretching your pussy and making you feel fuller. Jeremiah curses under his ragged breath, speeding it up until he lets out a loud groan. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck..."

If you had any energy left, you would have cum from just the needy sound of his voice, but your body is limp and exhausted after three intense orgasms. So you just watch it carefully; the way his bushy brows are drawn together in the most beautiful agony, his golden brown curls sticking to his forehead, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his golden skin glistening with sweat, his defined muscles flexing and relaxing...

He's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Jeremiah pulls off of you and collapses noisily beside you, breathing hard and you slowly stretch your legs out, feeling like you might get a cramp at any moment. He lifts himself up on one elbow as your legs spread slowly in exhaustion along the sheets.

He grabs some kleenex from the desk next to the bed and goes back to wipe it between your legs. "Are you well?"

"Mmhmm...yeah, but I don't think I can get up." You said softly and laughed, putting an arm over your eyes.

"Don't worry about it baby, we don't have to leave now. We can stay here all night actually." He said and you can hear the smile in his voice, the satisfaction and happiness.

For some reason that made you more embarrassed than anything that had happened just a few minutes ago. The fact that he was obviously pleased awakened a kind of self-awareness in you that wasn't present before.

God, what did that mean to him? Was it something induced by the heat of the moment? A unique thing that you would keep only in your memory?

You didn't dare remove your arm from your face, too embarrassed to really look at him right now.

He had no idea. Inside, your heart was doing somersaults and you almost thought about crying with sheer relief and happiness at having fulfilled one of your greatest desires in life.

Here, in the low lighting of his bedroom, you couldn't pretend that you probably weren't head over heels in love with your best friend.

You could never again pretend you weren't in love with Jeremiah Fisher.

But your daydreams were interrupted when he moved beside you, and soon he was sliding under the covers with you, wrapping himself around you like a cocoon, like something safe and warm and fluffy - not the sexy man who just eat you and touched you and made you come three times in a row.

“I really like you, princess,” he whispered, his voice cracking in the process, right in your ear. You heard him smile as he gently pulled your arm away from your face, forcing you to look at him.

You swallow and try not to vent the insecurity you're feeling.

"I meant everything I said, you know." He continues, his eyes clear and shining like the sky, even in the dim lighting of the room. "You are mine. Always have been."

You let one of your hands rest on his chest, feeling his heart race under your fingertips. God, you want to agree. You want to give yourself to him more than anything...

He's right, you were always his.

But there is one thing that still troubles you.

“What if I want you to be mine too?”

He lets out a chuckle, bringing his head forward to rest in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “That's easy, love. I've been yours longer than I care to admit. And now I've had you this way, I'm not at all willing to let you go."

You sigh and smile, your eyes becoming blurred with tears once more. When Jeremiah pulls away, he laughs at the satisfied expression on your face, placing a sweet, slow kiss on your swollen lips.

His tone was teasing and affectionate as he said, “What are best friends for anyway?”

#jeremiah fisher #team jeremiah #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah x y/n #jeremiah fisher smut #jeremiah smut #tsitp fanfic #tsitp smut #gavin casalegno #gavin casalegno x reader #tsitp imagine #jeremiah and reader #belly x jeremiah

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kentofic · 11 months ago

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nanami x afab reader - soft somnophilia imagine (18+ mdni)

i feel like it would take 5-10 business days to convince nanami to try somno with you, but all the begging would be so worth it when he gives in.

waking slightly to the thick stretch of his cock in your cunt, your mind hazy as pleasure seeps through your nerves like honey—slower than when you’re fully awake. nanami would be shocked at how especially delicious you feel wrapped around him, your body warm and pliant with sleep. utterly vulnerable and in his tender care.

he’d hold you close and let you make soft, sleepy sounds of pleasure as he fucks into you nice and slow. he’s not in any hurry. he wants to savor it. he’d rock into you at a languid pace, pressing deep and grinding his hips into yours. seeking your warmth, reveling in how soft and wet and willing you are while half asleep.

his heart would be full to bursting at how you trust him to love you like this—to pull pleasure from your body when your mind is still far away, clinging to the dregs of sleep. he’d leave soft kisses on your face and neck, murmuring praise about how good you are for him, how well you’re taking him.

and when you finally come around him, he’d shudder and quickly follow you, spilling himself into your wet heat. then he’d smooth your hair back as your sleepy eyes flutter open to meet his. he’d tell you good morning, his voice raspy and gentle and thick with affection. he loves you so dearly. it shows in the soft smile that plays on his lips before he leans in to give you a sweet morning kiss.

#he wouldn’t wanna do somno at first bc he doesn’t wanna take advantage of you #but i just know he’d be the sweetest gentlest most perfect lover for a somno situation #ugh i love himmmmmm #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk imagine #jinnie fic

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ssweetleaf · 2 years ago

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well if i MUST

steve loves putting a hand over your mouth when you guys fuck in sneaky situations. he loves hearing your sweet noises, but for the sake of not getting caught, he really has to.

but he gets off on it too, placing his huge hand over your lips, hearing your little muffled cries seep through as you watch him with pleading eyes, and he knows exactly what you're begging for too. sometimes he'll slip his fingers into your mouth, and feeling you suck on them so eagerly almost sends him right over the edge.

and then he leans in, voice all smooth and buttery, "gotta keep quiet baby, those moans are just for me to enjoy."

🧎🏼‍♀️😵‍💫😩 i want his babies. do you understand how feral this makes me??

SMUT under the cut

Fucking with a full house was risky, especially with how loud you’d get, finding it hard to stifle your cries and whimpers, sobbing into the sheets and pulling a pillow over your head— trying so hard to stay quiet, though usually failing once the thickness of Steve’s cock rutted into you, abusing your gummy walls and nudging at that special spot so deep, barely halfway to the hilt and already splitting you in two.

So, with a problem like this, a solution was very much needed— and it just so happened that Stevie had just the thing.

˖ ࣪⭑

His cock was stuffed inside you, tight hole trying hard to accommodate his size, quivering and dripping around him with every inward thrust— your parents were down the hall, only a few doors down, noises seeming extra loud in the dark of the night, and it appeared practically impossible to just stay quiet.

“Come on, honey, none of that—” he clicked his tongue down at you, mocking you, his chest pressed snug against your own, stiff nipples rubbing against the course hair that littered his pecs. “gotta be quiet, sweet girl. Don’t want mommy and daddy finding out how dirty their little girl can be, hm?”

You whimpered, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, holding in a sob. The tears were ebbing over your waterline, glistening from the light of the moon between your blinds and boring into his own.

He throbbed at the sight of those tears. You were so pretty when you cried.

“Can’t help it,” you whined, nails scratching crescents into his shoulder blades. “feels s’good, Stevie.”

“You want me to help you out, honey?” He cooed, copying the pout on your lips and smoothing your hair out of your face, hips still rocking, though a little slower than before.

You nodded, sighing all syrupy and sweet, watching with love hearts in your eyes when he brought a big palm up to your mouth, pressing it over your lips and clamping your needy noises down.

You whimpered desperately underneath his palm, the noise sufficiently muffled and your lashes fluttered up at him while he cooed and praised you.

“Oh, look at that—” he punctuated his speech with a rather deep thrust of his cock, the vibrations of your mewl tickling his palm, “pretty baby’s all quiet f’me now, hm?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, hands sliding and kneading and touching, trying to ground yourself and stop yourself from floating too far away, and it was hard with the sparkles that clouded your mind and vision.

“Atta girl, just needed a little help, that’s all.”

˖ ࣪⭑

send me smutty steve and eddie blurbs!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hc #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #⋆⋆☆bee’s hc #☆彡my asks

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ang3lc · 14 days ago

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just saw this post by @briarscreek and the worms started dancing in my head >> simon x singlemom!reader, fluff, 700 words

The preschool courtyard buzzed with activity—kids running around, parents chatting, and the occasional wail of a kid who didn’t want to leave yet. As you approached, your eyes landed on him: a towering man standing in the chaos, utterly unbothered. Mr. Riley.

He had one hand resting on his hip, the other casually ruffling the hair of a little boy who was about to leave with his mom. His T-shirt hugged broad shoulders and arms that looked like they could bench-press a car, but what struck you most was his ease with the kids. His voice, low and steady, carried just enough warmth to soothe even the most hyper child as he patiently handed each one off to their waiting parents.

It should’ve been illegal for a man that hot to be this good with kids.

Your heart did a little flip as you spotted your daughter, Lacie, standing right next to him. She was holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, chatting away, her tiny voice rising above the noise. He looked down at her with an expression you could only describe as fond.

And then she spotted you.

“Mommy!” she shrieked, dropping Simon’s hand like a hot potato and barreling toward you at full speed.

You barely had time to crouch before she tackled you, wrapping her little arms around your neck. “Hey, lovebug,” you laughed, smoothing down her messy curls as she buried her face in your shoulder.

When you glanced up, Simon was watching you.

The man looked... startled. His eyes widened slightly as they roamed over you. The hard edge to his jaw softened as if the sight of you had knocked him off balance.

“You’re Lacie's mum?” His deep voice carried a hint of something you couldn’t quite place—surprise, maybe.

“That’s me,” you said, shifting Lacie to your hip. You tried to sound casual, like your pulse wasn’t suddenly racing under his intense gaze. “And you must be Mr. Riley. I’ve heard so much about you.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Have you now?”

“Oh, yeah. Lace here talks about you constantly. I’m starting to think she likes you better than me.” You said it with a teasing smile, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“She’s one of my favorites,” he admitted after a beat, his voice softer now as he glanced at your daughter. “Smart, kind... keeps me on my toes.”

Lacie squirmed in your arms, breaking the moment as she tugged on your sleeve. “Mommy, can we go get ice cream now?”

“In a minute, peach,” you said, brushing a stray curl from her face. When you looked back at Simon, he was still watching you, his gaze steady and sharp like he was trying to figure you out.

“She’s lucky to have you,” he said quietly, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

Heat crept up your neck at the unexpected compliment, and you struggled to keep your voice even. “Thanks. And thanks for taking such good care of her. It’s clear she loves it here.”

For a moment, his stoic mask slipped. Something warm and genuine flickered in his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “It’s easy when they have good mum's.”

The way he said it—low, deliberate—sent a spark of electricity down your spine. You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to it,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Riley.”

“Simon,” he corrected, almost too quickly. “You can call me Simon.”

“Simon,” you repeated, the name rolling off your tongue like honey. “See you tomorrow.”

As you walked away, Lacie using your arms as her personal jungle gym and chattering about ice cream, you couldn’t resist one last glance over your shoulder.

Simon was still standing there, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, eyes wide as he tried to contemplate what the fuck just happened.

He'd have to fight with Johnny to get Dismissal Duty tomorrow.

mlist

#cod men #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost mw2 #ang3lc #angelsthots

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dipperscavern · 2 months ago

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Lord dippy!! Congrats on 1k they're soooo well deserved <3 you're ensuring the safety and well-being of your people (stark men's wives) and keeping us warm and well-fed (writing tons of amazing stuff), without you we'd never manage to survive trough the unforgiving long winter (the lack of good fanfics & blurbs)...anyways :3 may I humbly ask for an angst/comfort blurb with Jon?? In my mind he never left Winterfell and was forever happy with his alive siblings and he never had to feel like a bastard outsider. he didn't deserve all dat

hi baby!! this was so sweet omg thank you so much :( i hope you enjoy <3 (spoiler alert i got carried away) (as per usual)

jon snow x gn!reader

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

jon winces, a small noise emitting from his throat as pain seeps up his torso.

his cuts run deep; they’ll scar, melisandre says, but stannis’ closest thing to a maester insists on jon using a paste and bandages to allow them to heal. the paste certainly helps, but it still aggravates the skin when applied — no matter how soothing it was crafted to be.

the process is dreadful. it took minutes of him staring at the marks where he knows his blood left him, hesitation clawing up his throat before he worked up the ability to even begin. the open wounds have scabbed over, allowing the paste to coat them, but to jon, it doesn’t make the sight any prettier. he thinks the marred flesh a grisly spectacle.

memory of his fathers words echo in the back of his mind. lord eddard stark always appreciated scars on a man, saying it not only told a story, but spoke of how they survived it. a sick part of jon wishes there was no story of survival to tell.

a sharp intake of air passes through his lips as his hands shake, making his movements sloppy — accidentally pressing on the sensitive area more than he wished. he remembers when arrows pierced his skin, having a similar maintenance process as this; only these daggers wound unseen layers.

a knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. it’s soft, tentative. he knows who it is before your honeyed voice rings from behind it. “Jon?”

he hums in question. “Can I come in?”

a second passes, a brief thought of covering himself enters his mind — a flash of insecurity pooling in his gut. it’s you, he reasons. but a different voice raises the question, would you reject the ugly parts of him?

his eyes flicker to his abdomen, another part of him now unworthy.

against his own better judgement, he hums in approval. he doesn’t turn to face you as the door opens; that small, aching part of him always wins one way or another.

he hears you turn the lock after you come in. he pretends not to know it’s because you realize he’s compromised, and you’re the only person he’d let see him like this. if he acknowledges it in full, he doubts his ability to keep his breathing steady — and these days his hands shake enough already.

another thumb-smooth of paste over a gash, another sharp ache. he grits his teeth in effort to conceal any noises that threaten to escape him. not in your company, not now. the atmosphere since his prominent death and return is tense as is.

unfortunately for him, you’re far too attentive to let it go unnoticed. a small turn of his head, and he sees your look of worry; the way your fingers grasp one another, no doubt in attempt to keep your qualms to yourself. it doesn’t work, it never has. not when it comes to jon, anyway.

“Jon, please let me help you.” a plea, a whisper of comfort you wish to offer him in the form of your saccharine hands. even as children, you insisted on bandaging his small cuts. putting cream on his bruises, dutifully checking on them until healed.

he stills. his voice a low, quiet rasp. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” your voice comes closer, and he feels you enter his space. what he wouldn’t give to make sure you never leave. “I want to. Can I?”

your hand wraps around his bicep, thumb moving slowly across his skin. a small, soothing touch that sends a warm feeling crawling up his spine. he’s lucky you don’t face him now, as you’d see the way his lashes have fluttered shut. such a seemingly simple thing you give him, and it makes his breath hitch all the same.

it doesn’t take much lately to set his emotions in disarray, and your touch is the only thing that helps. you seem to know this too, for your hands seek him now more than ever — and he would be a liar if he said he doesn’t cling to the respite you bring him like a lifeline.

his agreeance is nearly unheard, a small murmur accompanied by an even smaller nod. jon’s always had a hard time accepting help, especially it in the form of gentle touches and kind words; the kind he thinks himself undeserving of.

but you know jon. you know what he needs, even if he can’t bring himself to ask for it.

you press a small kiss to his bare shoulder, moving to stand in front of him. goosebumps trail his body at the feeling of your lips, and he bites back the want to close his eyes. he wants to savor the feeling, but he cherishes the moments gets to admire you even more.

your brows pinch ever so lightly when you see his abdomen, even with some of the severed skin already covered in paste. though you take the bowl harboring the medicine, a pang of embarrassment courses through him at your disdain. when your fingers reach to make contact, he expects pain, but none ever comes.

you touch him with a gentleness thats featherlight, and he subconsciously relaxes under your fingertips. he feels like his senses are on overdrive, feeling every touch, every breath. every unspoken word communicated through your treatment of him.

the silence is comforting, even as you frown. all of jon’s attention is on you, so much so that he doesn’t even feel the usual dull ache of torn skin healing itself. even so, you can’t seem to help yourself.

you whisper an apology, a hesitant confession. one that jon is caught off guard by. he almost doesn’t know what you mean, until he tears his gaze away from your expression enough to notice yours is trapped on the place where four daggers took his life. something clicks into place for him.

he stops your hand, his own wrapping around your wrist. not harshly, jon never is. “Hey,” he says. your eyes meet his. “You didn’t do this.”

though not directly said aloud, you know his true meaning. he doesn’t like when you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. even in his current state, he’s ever quick to reassure. “Y’ hear me?”

you nod, and while it’s not enough to remove the pity from your gaze, you don’t have that guilty look in your eye — like you did something wrong. jon knows you carry his death on your shoulders, even when the weight isn’t yours to bear.

he brings your wrist to his lips, kissing it before allowing you to continue. he can see the ghost of a smile grace your lips, and that’s enough for him.

minutes pass like that; you, tending to his wounds with the touch of embodied delicacy, and him, soaking up every piece of you he can. jons content to spend a lifetime in this very moment.

his wish isn’t granted, and soon, he’s reaching for fresh bandages. deja-vu of the arrows shot by a red archer lingers in the back of his mind, but the back is where it stays, as you’re forefront. always.

when he’s finished wrapping the white material, he turns to face you. “You don’t have to do that. Again.”

“Do you not want me to?” you’re sincere in your asking, and he knows you wouldn’t if he asked you not to — but he doesn’t, and his silence is telling.

you can’t help the small smile at his lack of words, and when you smile, jon can’t help but follow suit. mere days from being released from the strangers clutches, and you have him smiling. you’re a godsend. angelic. he’d tell you so if he could ever find the words.

but you’ve never relied on things only spoken. you step forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wrapping your arms around him; careful to avoid your torso touching his. jon’s appreciative of your effort, but he’s less hesitant, pulling you flush to him regardless. his head finds the crook of your shoulder, and he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon — unless there’s another knock on the door.

━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━

#dippys asks #dippys 1k #this one’s going on the masterlist idc #IDC IDC IDC #FIGHT ME #this got the juices flowing #the WHAT #shut the hell up #ok damn #game of thrones #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow prompt #got x reader #game of thrones x reader #gn!reader

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daizymax · 1 year ago

Text

a little pampering | lfl (m)

summary: your kind, attentive boyfriend helps you unwind after a long day with a massage and a little more.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 5.6k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established (but new) relationship; profanity; mentions of food; graphic sexual content; clit play & vaginal fingering; some breast & nipple play; a tiny bit of spit play & finger sucking; dirty talk; oral (m receiving); penetrative piv sex with condom use

author’s note: re-written, re-titled and re-uploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

{ click here if you prefer to read on AO3 }

---

Technically he has good timing, but as you set your things down and kick off your shoes, you aren’t sure if you’re really in the mood to answer his call. Not after the day you’ve had. But it’s Felix, and the relationship is still new, so you answer anyway.

“Hey.”

“Uh oh, what’s wrong?”

Normally you don’t mind how observant he is; that’s one of the things you have come to admire about him. But you don’t want to unpack your hard day on him, so you feign ignorance.

“Hm? Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine,” you say, then promptly change the subject. “I just got home. How was your day?”

“It was alright,” Felix answers pleasantly. His smooth, deep voice is always soothing. Just a few words from him and you’re already feeling your mood lift a little. “I was just calling to see how your day was. When you didn’t answer my last text, I figured it turned into a rough one towards the end.”

You ignore his correct suspicion for the time being to quickly check your messages. There it is, the missed text from a few hours ago asking if the two of you could meet up for dinner tonight.

“Shit, I’m just now seeing it,” you say. “You’re right, work was rough and I was just crazy busy this afternoon, I’m sorry.”

“No worries! Does dinner sound alright, though? We can go anywhere you want.” When you make a noise somewhere between a ponderous hum and a non-committal grunt, Felix laughs knowingly. “Okay, that’s fine.”

His easy acceptance of your hesitation doesn’t make you feel better. If anything, it only makes you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I just don’t really feel up to going out tonight. I’m tired and my neck is killing me. I kind of just want to stand under a hot shower for, like, half an hour, then pass out in bed.”

“Ah, poor thing. Can I at least bring you dinner, if I promise not to overstay my welcome? I’d still love to see you tonight, even for just a little while?”

His offer is sweet, but you don’t exactly like the way he’s pressing to see you tonight. Even when worded as questions, even with his assurance that he won’t stay too long, it comes off as kind of pushy to you. But to be fair, Felix has been nothing but respectful and understanding and kind to you in the couple months you’ve been dating him. Is a well-intentioned offer really something to refuse? Or something worth getting into an argument over?

You blame your sour thoughts on your terrible day and decide you probably would feel a little better if you let him dote on you with a simple meal and some company, so you accept his offer on the condition that he bring enough food for himself as well.

---

Felix arrives at your door with two bags of food and a smile.

Even after his own long day of work, he looks fresh and pretty. His blond hair is parted, freckles on full display against his honey skin. He smells good, too. Something clean and floral wafts into your nostrils, even through the smell of the food.

“Hey you,” you say. “Thanks again for bringing dinner, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hey you,” he echoes, stepping inside when you allow him by. “It’s my pleasure, really. Thanks for letting me come over. I hope you don’t mind, I brought dessert, too. Nothing special, just some ice cream. If we don’t eat it tonight, you can just keep it and save it for another time.”

You thank him again for the thoughtful gesture, and he wastes no time helping you put dessert into the freezer before dispensing the rest of the food onto some plates.

By the time the two of you settle across the table from each other, you feel silly for your negative thoughts earlier, even if they were brief. Maybe one day you will decline his company, but right now, this feels exactly like what you need: a nice meal and your boyfriend’s comforting presence.

“This is really great, Felix.”

He beams. “Dig in, babe.”

You expect him to ask for the details of your stressful day, but he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, he talks of his own day, and you learn a few new tidbits of information about him as he talks — the way he likes his coffee (extremely sweet), the time of day he showers (in the mornings, though he thinks nights would be better actually), the amount of time it takes for him to commute to and from work (about 20 minutes each way). It’s odd how mundane things like that are always fascinating at the start of a relationship.

Partway through the conversation, you stretch your stiff neck, and Felix notices your discomfort. He lumps his mouthful of food into one cheek and asks, “So what did you do to your neck?”

“I don’t even know,” you mutter. “It’s been a few days now. I don’t know if I slept on it wrong or what.”

“Poor thing,” he tuts again. “You’re probably ready for that shower. I’m just about done here, I can go ahead and show myself out and leave you to your rest.”

“No, stay,” you blurt. “I mean, I do really want to shower, but maybe we can watch a movie or a show or something when I’m done, if you want?”

He looks a little surprised at your suggestion. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, if you’re sure I won’t be overstaying my welcome? I really don’t mind if you want to kick me out now so you can get on with your evening. You don’t have to—”

You reach over the table to brush your fingertips over his knuckles, and he promptly shuts his mouth. “Felix, it’s okay. I want you to say, if you want to stay.”

He smiles and relaxes. “Alright, cool.”

After the table is cleared, you insist he make himself comfortable in the living room and find something for the two of you to watch when you return.

The pressure of the hot water and the encapsulating steam is everything you’ve been dreaming of all afternoon. And even though you have lovely company waiting, you decide to take your time and savor the water pelting your aching muscles until it turns lukewarm and you drag yourself back out to dry off and put on some comfortable clothes.

Felix certainly looks comfortable perched on your couch. He smiles brightly again when he sees you. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

You stretch your neck experimentally. “Physically? Not really. Mentally? So much better.”

“Well that’s something, at least.” He fluffs open the blanket on his lap and says, “Come here.”

The scene is too tempting to resist. You cozy up beside him and wrap your arms around his middle as he does the same with you.

Felix sighs, then you hear him inhale softly. “You smell good.”

“So do you,” you say, sniffing his sleeve.

“Thanks.” He shifts one arm to reach for the remote on the table beside him. “Is Sci-Fi okay?”

You nod and lay your cheek against his shoulder. “Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

Half an hour into the show, your neck twinges in protest over your otherwise comfortable position, and you groan quietly as you pull yourself up to sit up straight. You’d been so content to cuddle with your warm, pretty boyfriend.

Felix pauses the show and looks over at you. “You okay?”

Before you can answer him, you bump your fingers into his hand when he reaches for the back of your neck first. His fingers are soft, and you can’t help but sigh at the tender pressure he puts on the sore tendons.

“You do feel tight. Tense,” he says, gazing at your skin in concern while he rubs gentle little circles into it with his thumb. “I might be able to help a little more than the shower did, if you want.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You do massages?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been told once or twice that I’m decent at it. Think it’s worth a shot?”

You shrug back. “Yeah, sure, why not. Thanks, baby.”

Once you’ve situated yourself so that your back is facing him, Felix places his hand at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Right here, isn’t it? Down into your shoulder, too,” he says, measuring the damage with delicate prods of his fingertips.

“Y-yeah,” you mutter, then clear your throat. “Yeah, like all along there.”

With that confirmation, he takes a firmer grasp of your knotted muscles to try and smooth them out. You hiss at the sensation, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Felix hums knowingly. “Sorry. Try to relax, but tell me if it hurts too much.”

He takes hold of your opposite shoulder just to steady you as he works the pained one. He rolls his fingers along the column of your neck, pressing his thumb at the base of your skull with a calculated pressure, then pinches the muscle of your shoulder.

“Feel okay?” he checks when you let out an indecipherable sound.

“It does hurt a bit,” you admit, “but it feels good, too.”

“Good.”

He repeats his motions over and over until he’s built up a nice rhythm of gentle squeezes up and down your neck and firmer, longer squeezes along your shoulder. You start to feel weightless, boneless, and you lean into his chest at the lulling ministrations.

At one point he sweetly kisses the side of your head without pausing his work, and it occurs to you then that you haven’t kissed him in days.

To remedy that, you start by turning your head towards him. Felix smiles when he meets your eyes, and you lean closer to kiss his lips. He doesn’t have time to react outside of a tiny, surprised grunt before you’re pulling away with a pleased grin.

He grins back wider. “Another,” he says, puckering his plump lips into a cute, inviting pout.

You giggle and oblige, this time holding the position longer. He kisses you back with the smallest movement of his jaw. Greedily, you decide it isn’t enough, so you reach to hold the back of his head and part your lips further to coax him into doing the same.

A sigh through his nose breaks across your cheek at the same time the tip of his tongue dips between your lips. You meet it softly, deepening the motion by tilting your head even more so there can be no gap between you.

The quiet sounds of your lips breaking and reconnecting fills your ears soothingly. His fingers have stopped massaging you in favor of simply holding you close to him, but you don’t mind. In fact, you’re already thinking of a better place for him to put them right now.

When you start to guide his hand down to your chest, Felix whispers your name against your lips. He doesn’t elaborate, and you’re not sure what he thinks he’s trying to say, but you don’t comment back.

Instead, you cup your hand over his and squeeze so he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t say anything more, just fondles your breast as requested by your body language. You arch into his touch and moan into his mouth, partly for sexy effect to keep him going, but mostly because it’s exciting to have him touch you like this for the first time.

Your moan encourages him, just as you suspected it might, and he adjusts his hold on your breast to run his thumb across the nipple starting to poke through your thin shirt. He doesn’t mention the lack of a bra, but you can tell he finds the easy access exciting by the way he hums again. He switches to your other breast to pay it some equal attention, rolling your stiff nipple between his thumb and forefinger gingerly, then pinching it just to hear you react with a light gasp.

“I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N,” Felix takes the time to mention, as though this makeout and groping session is the highlight of his whole day. The thought makes you want to take things even further.

“Me too.” You twist your torso to face him even more, and his hand slips from your breast to your lap. “Felix? I want you, baby.”

He licks his already wet lips, dark eyes shimmering as he glances between each of yours. “You mean… have sex? Right now?”

You nod silently, and there is a split second of hesitation on Felix’s part where you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he swears under his breath and surges forward into another kiss, feverish with new intent this time.

He returns his hand to your clothed chest without guidance this time, but you think of something even better, so you bring his hand up through the bottom of your shirt instead. You’re sure your own body temperature is rising with your desire, but his palm is nearly searing on your bare skin.

He starts to lose focus on kissing while he’s feeling you up, and so do you. Every roll and tweak and squeeze sends a pulse of arousal between your legs. It gets to the point that you start rubbing your thighs together needily, and Felix — being the kind, thoughtful, observant person he is — takes notice.

“Fuck, babe,” he swears. His hand smooths down your warm stomach to the band of your leggings and stops there. “Getting kind of horny?”

You giggle because he sounds kind of precious saying it aloud. It’s already been established that you want to have sex with him — of course you’re horny.

“More like a lot,” you say, nipping his bottom lip with your teeth.

Felix smirks deviously. “Hm. I see. Let me help you with that, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t push his fingers into your pants right away. Instead, he cups your pussy over your clothing with a confidence that both surprises and delights you. Then he starts to drag his fingers up and down, back and forth. Your toes curl and loosen depending on the pressure of his moving fingers and how often he brushes across your swelling clit. You’re barely kissing him at all at this point; more like hovering right against his lips, which are still smirking ever so slightly.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah.” You spread your legs a little wider, and Felix uses the extra space to grind the heel of his palm over your clit now. “Oh fuck,” you gasp over the new, rougher sensation.

Unlike with the massage he was giving you, he does not build up a steady, diligent rhythm of repetitive motions. He alternates without pattern between the grinding of his palm and the tickling of his fingers along your covered slit. It feels unbelievably, surprisingly good, but you’re getting frustrated by both the teasing and the barriers separating your burning skin from his.

“Felix,” you whimper. “I need more, please...”

“I know, I’ve got you.” He finally dives his hand into your pants, but he still only touches you over your underwear. “Mm, this does feel good, doesn’t it?” he says, alluding to how damp and sticky you’ve become. He traps your swollen clit between his index and middle finger and gives it a vibrating shake, and your thighs automatically clamp together on his hand, which makes him chuckle. “You still seem tense, Y/N. Relax for me. I’m taking care of you. Gonna make you come just like this.”

The whine you let out is pitiful even to your own ears. How easily he’s turned you to putty in his capable hands.

He wraps one arm across your stomach while the other flexes beneath the blanket at your crotch. You can’t see anything he’s doing down there, but you can sure as hell feel it all.

He keeps two fingers focused on your clit with tight, firm circles and increases his pace. Your soon-to-be-ruined panties not only add to the friction he is creating but also keep his fingers from slipping around too wildly. The concentrated pleasure races through your veins as fast as he can rub at the stiff, sensitive bundle of nerves.

The edge he’s been dragging you toward looms— “Right there! F-Felix… Please, j-just like that, please…”

“You don’t have to beg, sweetheart. Just let go,” he says. His voice is pitched lower than you’ve ever heard it, which very well could be what launches you straight into your body-tingling climax.

You gasp when it hits and clutch his forearm tightly — not to stop him, just to let him know, as if he couldn’t already tell you’re coming from the way you’re stuttering mindless expletives and desperately humping against his hand.

Felix almost moves his fingers away too soon, but you whimper and hold him in place for a little while longer to wring that last bit of ecstasy out. He coos something apologetic that you can’t quite make out through the static in your ears and continues drawing dwindling circles into your clit.

After a few more, he hooks his middle finger through the side of your panties and slowly glides it through your bare folds for the first time, from the bottom of your soaked opening, up between your puffy lips, all the way to your clit still pulsing at the top. You twitch weakly at the onset of sensitivity, but he doesn’t linger or torment you with overstimulation; his finger is gone almost as quickly as it came.

You slump against him, and Felix presses a sweet kiss to the first part of you he can reach, which is your sweaty temple.

“You’re amazing, Y/N. Feeling alright?”

In the midst of calming down and catching your breath, you have to laugh at his compliment when he was the one who did all the work.

“Yeah, I feel great. That was so good.”

“Good. There’s more orgasms where that came from, if you’re up for it.” He plants another quick peck on the crown of your head and gives your pussy one last pat through your panties with a flat, open palm before finally withdrawing from the cramped, humid space of your pants.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder again and give his lips a quick kiss. “I think it’s your turn for some pampering now.”

Felix doesn’t protest, only shifts with you as you transition from sitting between his legs on the couch to kneeling between his legs on the floor.

“Is this okay?” you ask, rubbing one of his knees.

Your pretty boyfriend nods. “Yeah, definitely.”

You start to run your hand up his thigh towards the enticing bulge between his legs, but he puts a hand over yours to stop you. You give him a concerned look because you thought he was good with this; he just said so.

“Listen, I’m not, like… impressive, okay?” he says.

Oh. That’s what he’s worried about? The size of his dick? The thought of him being self-conscious about it saddens you, honestly.

You give his thigh a squeeze. It feels firm and warm to your touch. “I’m not the kind of person to rate your dick based on size, baby. I promise you.”

Felix smiles shyly, face flushed pink. “I know, I know. I know it’s about how I use it. I guess I just wanted to, I don’t know, warn you? Not warn you but, like, prepare you, or something?”

He’s nervous, which in and of itself is completely understandable. This is the first time you’ll be seeing his dick. He wants to make a good first impression, and his size is one of the first things you’ll notice. You don’t want him to worry about it, though, so you go back to reaching for the zipper on his pants, and he lets go of your hand.

“Trust me, I’m more than prepared to suck you off, baby,” you say with a grin.

“What about your neck?” he asks.

“I’ll be alright.” A little soreness in your neck is not going to stop you from doing this. No way.

Felix lets out a breathy laugh at your determination and lifts his hips to help you get his pants down. His dick twitches beneath his boxers when you reach for them next.

As soon as you remove them, you think you can see what he was talking about. There are certainly longer and thicker cocks out there, and maybe he is slightly smaller than what could be considered ‘average,’ but by god, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen a prettier cock in your life. It’s rock solid, wrapped in a plump vein, and the tip is blushing a darker shade of pink than his face. You’re already more than pleased with it.

“Baby, your dick is perfect,” you say, reaching for it. He’ll probably think you’re exaggerating for the sake of his confidence, so you elaborate, “Perfect for me to swallow whole, and more than enough to fill me up. It’ll feel amazing to have you fuck me hard from behind, or with my legs on your shoulders in missionary, you know? You’d hit me just deep enough to hurt a little bit but not too much. You even fit perfectly in my hand. See?”

You swear you feel his cock pulse harder in your hold. The skin is so warm and smooth, silky yet stiff. You cannot wait to get your mouth on it, or have him stuff it in your pussy.

Felix breathes a short laugh; he sounds a little winded all of a sudden. “Fuck, I can’t wait to do all of that with you,” he says. His head falls back against the couch, and you’re glad to see him relaxing.

You nod. “Me either, baby. Can I start by swallowing you whole?”

Another twitch of his cock, which is clearly in agreement of its own, but you wait for his words.

“Yes, please,” he says, so politely.

You scoot a little closer on your knees, then bend forward to take his leaking tip into your mouth. Felix gasps as soon as you seal your lips around him, and he practically shivers when you lick at his slit. You love how sensitive and responsive he is. You can already see yourself worshiping his cock for hours. Maybe not tonight, but hopefully some time in the very near future.

It’s fun hearing his voice go from high-pitched and whiny to deep and almost tortured sounding, depending on whether you’re tracing the vein on his cock with your tongue or hollowing your cheeks around the flared mushroom head. He fits in your mouth so perfectly, just as you told him he would. His cock stretches your lips, but not enough to make your jaw sore; his length extends into your throat, but it’s not terribly troublesome to deep-throat him. It seems he especially loves breaching your throat and feeling the tight muscle flexing around his tip. Those sounds — the desperate little gasps — are quickly becoming your favorite.

Just when you’ve really gotten into a rhythm, however, he hisses “Wait wait wait,” and reaches out for your shoulder to gently ease your face away from his cock. It drops with a wet little plop against his lower stomach, glistening in your spit now.

“I’m gonna come if you keep going like that,” he says to your confused look, chuckling a little. “You’re actually about to suck my soul out.”

You laugh and rub his thighs. “I’m just taking care of you like you did for me.”

“I think I need to eat you out for ten minutes to even the score now.”

“There’s no score,” you say, still laughing, “but if you’d rather move on to something else, I have condoms in the bedroom.”

Felix sits up. “Lead the way.”

He leaves his pants and underwear behind on the living room floor, and you take his hand to bring him into your bedroom.

He’s been in here a couple times before already, but he’s never taken you by the hips and pulled you into a steamy kiss in here before. He’s never watched you strip your clothes for him in here before, or stripped his clothes for you in here before.

He’s never lowered you onto your mattress and followed on top of you before.

The feeling of his weight on yours is nice. His skin is so smooth and muscular; he’s been hiding those abs under his baggy clothes all this time. You kind of want to take more time to admire his body, but you’re not about to interrupt the feeling of his lips on your neck and throat; he’s found a sensitive spot, and it’s winding you up tighter to finally be fucked.

“Where’s the condoms, sweetheart?” Felix asks, as though he can hear your screaming thoughts. He scatters kisses along the tops of your breasts.

“In here,” you say, reaching for the drawer on your nightstand.

Felix reaches too, fingers bumping into yours as he finds one of the packets. He may have been nervous and self-conscious about his dick size, but he’s confident when he tears open the foil and tugs the latex over his erection. As soon as he’s ready to go, he asks, “So, did you want me to fuck you hard from behind, or missionary with your legs over my shoulders?”

God, he’s perfect.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you say.

He smirks again. It looks extra devious on his angelic face. “Alright, well, at the risk of being cheesy, I think I want to see your face when you come this time, so legs up it is.”

You giggle. “So cheesy, baby. But that’s fine with me.”

Felix helps you into position, practically pulling your legs up for you to get the backs of your knees hooked over his shoulders. The tip of his covered cock bumps against your inner thigh, then the entrance of your pussy. You can feel how wet you still are — and how hard he still is — just from that minimal contact. He brings a hand down to better line himself up, and you can’t help but whimper when he presses a little harder on your hole. So close, but still not close enough.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready,” you say.

He pushes in, slowly but all in one go. The angle is perfect for him to hit just the right spot inside your walls, just like you knew he would.

Felix’s eyes roll back in his head in pure bliss, and he hugs your thighs to help balance you and to brace himself against all this pleasure.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. He leans a little more of his weight forward, unintentionally testing the flexibility in your legs. His core strength is impressive. “Is this okay, babe? You good?”

You bring your hands up to cup his face and purposely clench your walls tighter around him. “I’m fantastic. You can move whenever you want.”

He does just that, retracting the tip of his cock to the edge of your entrance before sliding in deep again, nice and slow. His movements are even and firm, tip to base, over and over again as he acquaints your pussy with his cock and vice versa.

“Oh f-fuck,” you breathe. “That’s so f-fucking good, Felix, so fucking deep.”

He groans and drops his hands from your thighs to plant his fists in the mattress instead. He fucks you faster, harder, battering that sweet spot inside you and driving you into the mattress. You can feel his balls slapping against your ass with every powerful push, and you can feel that your arousal has already leaked onto them, too. There’s going to be a hell of a wet spot on your sheets later, but you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Felix chants under his breath in time with his thrusts. His eyes have been closed since he started moving faster, but he opens them again now. You meet his gaze and bite your lip, and he leans in to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip between his own teeth. His lips graze across your cheek and down your neck.

“You feel amazing inside me,” you tell him, fingers twisting into his hair at the back of his head.

Felix brings his hands around to your backside to take your ass in his hands and hold you even closer to him. “Got me so fucking close already, Y/N,” he grunts into your mouth.

“Then come for me.”

He shakes his head; long, blond bangs sweeping the freckles on his cheeks. His thrusts stutter before evening out again. “Not before you. Will you touch yourself for me?”

You smile and nod, bringing two fingers up between your lips and accidentally bumping Felix’s lips in the process. He surprises you by catching them in his mouth immediately after you’ve wet them with your own.

“Jesus, baby,” you whisper, heavy gaze on the way he sucks your fingers so well, if only for a quick second or two.

His brown eyes are smoldering, burning into yours, and you nearly forget what he just asked you. He watches you bring your wet fingers down between your rocking bodies to finger your clit. Your walls instantly clench tighter around his cock, and he groans straight into your ear.

“So fucking t-tight, babe. Your pussy fits s-so perfectly around me, fuck.”

Felix takes your free hand and presses it into the mattress beside your head, leaning more of his weight into you again. Your legs are aching from maintaining this position, but it’s worth it to have him hitting your g-spot over and over again at this angle, and your orgasm is so fucking close now.

It’s clear Felix is close, too. His forehead and upper lip are dotted with sweat, his hips are getting more and more erratic, his breath is stuttering. He rakes his eyes from yours, down to your jiggling breasts, down to where your fingers are playing with your clit, and repeat.

“So gorgeous,” he whispers with a sweet peck to your lips. Far too sweet for the way he’s plowing you up the mattress, which somehow only pushes you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you moan, squeezing his hand tighter.

Felix squeezes back and goes in even faster, determined in his thrusts. “Do it, sweetheart. Come on my cock.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to do so. A few more perfect pushes against that sweet spot inside you and a few more flicks of your fingers and your orgasm quakes through you, hot and molten from your core all the way down — up — to your curled toes. You can’t help but tug Felix’s body even closer with your legs as you tremble through your high.

“God damn,” Felix swears as he watches you come; he couldn’t see it this well on the couch earlier. Your eyes are shut, mouth fallen open, body squirming under him from all the pleasure he’s helped bring you.

And your pussy, fuck. You can’t seem to stop clenching, and it draws out his own climax. He can barely get the words out to tell you. “Shit, c-coming, babe— ungh!”

He lodges his cock as deep as it can go and finally unloads his cum into the condom with a low grunt. You peek your eyes open in time to witness his own mouth dropped open in bliss. He gives a few more firm thrusts to finish off his orgasm, then gently eases your legs down. You wince a little as you become more aware of the muscles you’ve been straining, and Felix gently kneads your hips with his fingers.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Can’t feel my legs,” you pant, smiling up at him, “but in a good way. That was amazing. You okay?”

Felix is trying to catch his own breath, but he still giggles. “I’m great!” He runs his hands up your legs from ankles to hips, then gives the sides of your ass a couple pats. “Be right back.”

He hops off the bed with a surprising amount of energy and dashes into the bathroom to trash the condom. When he returns, he has a towel in hand.

“Is it okay to clean up with this?” he asks.

You give him a tired thumbs up, and he smiles as he helps clean up the lingering wetness between your legs. He tries to do something about the wet spot on the sheets, too, but you tell him not to worry about it; you’ll just change them in a bit.

For now, you reach out to bring him back into bed and into your arms, and he easily obliges.

“Just lie with me for a bit, please?” you murmur, halfway to sleep as you play with his hair.

Felix snuggles tighter against you and hums. “Of course.”

“Might pass out any second,” you warn him.

He kisses your throat. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Rest.”

You yawn. “Want you to stay with me.”

His body is so warm and solid. His voice is deep and honeyed. “I’m here. Right here.” A few beats of silence go by, then he adds, “I’m really glad you let me come over tonight, Y/N.”

You hum, “Me too,” just before drifting off.

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