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jenosbigtoe · 3 months

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THE REQUEST OF THE BABY TRAPPING AND JISUNG!!!!!! I WANT TO KISS THAT ANON FOR THERE PRETTY MIND

when you said you are thinking about it with jeno and jaemin like can you write one for jeno because it had been on my mind all time🤭🤭

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: sugar daddy!lee jeno x reader

warnings: sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, dubcon, filthy rich silver fox jen, daddy kink, possessiveness, unspecified age gap (~15 yrs…), babytrapping, breeding, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: this made me want to write a longer one shot so that’s also in the making rn!! enjoy this drabble for now tho 💋

jeno would do anything for you.

you were his precious baby, whom he spoiled absolutely rotten. he gave you unlimited access to his credit cards, bought you thousands in expensive luxuries goods like designer bags and shoes, took you around the world in getaway vacations, and paraded you around on his arm as his woman. and all he asked for in return was for you to love him and be devoted to him just as he was to you.

he didn’t care if he was “too old for a young woman like you”. you were both perfectly consenting adults. if anything, you seemed to love being spoiled by an older man. you loved to run your hands through his jet black hair with strands of silver running through. you loved to kiss the fine lines starting to form around his eyes and forehead. and you loved to tell him how men your age could never treat you with the respect and care he does.

you were more than just a sugar baby to him. but your relationship was complicated. to you, he was more than a sugar daddy but less than a boyfriend. he wanted you to officially be his and had asked you many times before to be his woman. but every time, you declined. your reasoning being you were both happy in your arrangement and you didn’t want to ruin any of that.

he never liked that you weren’t officially his and he was finally going to change that. the best and only way he knew how.

“dadddyyy!!” you cried, fat tears rolling down your face and making a mess of your makeup. you hugged a pillow close to your chest and buried your sobs into it as jeno pounded his fat cock relentlessly into your poor cunt from behind. as many times as you’ve taken his cock, you could almost never get used to how long and thick he was, stretching you out and reaching places no one else had before. it seemed with every thrust, he was trying to beat down your womb.

he used one hand to press on the small of your back, arching it so his cock could reach even deeper inside your cunt as his other hand pulled your hair back to force your head up from the pillow so he could hear every cry, scream, and moan coming from your pretty lips. his hips pounded relentlessly into yours, your cunt leaking arousal around his shaft and sucking him back in with every thrust.

he leaned down to speak lowly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “my baby fuckin loves it rough huh? all that screaming and crying when your cunt is so messy and so tight for daddy.”

you choked out another sob and pushed your ass back on his thrusts, pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. he groaned at your movement and started rutting his hips even faster against yours.

he was filling your little cunt so much, you couldn’t even think straight. you felt your core tighten and your pussy clench harder around his pounding cock when your orgasm suddenly flooded your senses and blanked out your mind. your cunt was leaking and spasming uncontrollably while he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

“fuck baby i’m close too,” he groaned from behind you. “m gonna cum in this pussy, fill you up full.”

before you could tell him, wait! it’s not safe! he suddenly bottomed out and shot his hot load right into your warm cunt. he filled you with every last drop of his milky hot load until it started leaking out because you were already so full.

“jeno! i can get pregnant!!” you were starting to panic but he shushed you and pulled you tight against his sweaty chest in a spooning position, never once pulling out.

you tried breaking free from his embrace but he was much too strong for you. he kept one arm locking you to his chest and he moved his other hand to rest on your lower stomach.“wouldn’t you look so pretty with our baby?”

“jen-“ he shut you up with a deep kiss pressed against your lips.

“you’re mine now.”

@jenomov had to tag my jenhoe bc it’s been a while since i’ve written for baby daddy

#nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct x reader #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno #lee jeno #jeno smut

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saerins · 10 months

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𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.1k | content: fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of jealousy/insecurities

notes: of course when i’m back i write for sae … who else is possible of holding me hostage like this ? :’)

summary: he’s stupid and stubborn and bad at being a boyfriend. you make him want to be better though. always.

itoshi sae has a bad habit.

he’s not used to relationships, or the notion of having to care for someone in a certain romantic way that tests his own boundaries. this much is apparent in the way he’s only ever had one relationship before you and it was over before he started, because he’d chosen career over his ex.

and no, the situation right now with you isn’t like that. even so, it’s tough; when you feel down for no particular reason and sae doesn’t know how to handle it. and sometimes he’s tired too and you catch him at the wrong timing and you both end up sulking the entire night.

you won’t lie—you have a bad habit too. you can’t really bring yourself to express exactly how you feel. it’s difficult to open up just like that, especially when you aren’t used to it. but sae’s especially confused with how to handle these situations, like right now.

right now; when you’re sobbing in front of him and he’s feeling frustrated. when you can’t really handle the heat well—he’s a world-renowned soccer player, one of the world eleven. and next to him, no one even knows you. not when you have a non-disclosure agreement and have to keep everything super private.

it’s funny how you thought it’d be simple. then again, you didn’t factor in all the external disturbances. it tests your patience whenever sae makes the headlines when he’s out for a simple lunch with friends and makes it to the front page with a dating rumor with a top model. it’s tough for you to hold it in when you see people shipping him with someone you can only wish to be.

insecurity just hits you sometimes.

“is it really that hard to just assure me, sae?”

that includes now, when you’ve just had a shitty day and he’s so so tired from all the events he’s had to go to now, having to parade around with that top model, all to promote a brand’s upcoming fragrance line. emotions run high, neither of you have the capacity to deal with this right now.

“look, i’m so fucking tired, can we just deal with this in the morning?”

some pessimistic part of you is telling you he’ll just brush it off in the morning—all the jealousy, the frustration. you don’t even think you can last staying mad at him for that long.

“what’s the problem with talking about it now?”

“i don’t want to talk about it now, could you just let it go for the night?”

both of your voices get higher and higher, just a hair’s breadth away from actual shouting. that’s when sae reels himself in, averting his gaze.

and there goes sae’s bad habit; grabbing his keys and walking out of your shared apartment, no umbrella even though it’s raining outside and he’ll get soaked just trying to walk to the car.

you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stay safe because you’re all out of energy tonight. everything has been sucked dry into your anxiety, and you’re spent. now what can you even do besides curl up on the couch, wondering if you’re too much?

when your phone lights up, you catch the wallpaper—a picture of sae looking off camera while he presses a kiss on your head.

it just makes you feel worse.

he’s tired. his efforts are spent. on soccer, not you. but still. it’s exhausting. couldn’t you have just waited for a few more fucking hours?

he’s tired. so fucking tired.

“hey.”

it’s a lame greeting, but that’s all he can manage right now. shidou’s in his doorway, a cock in his brow and a very annoyed look on his face.

“oi, i got a girl here—”

“don’t care, i’ll just crash on the couch,” sae cuts him off, trudging through the door and settling himself on the leather black couch, the familiarity sinking in. he used to live here with shidou before he got together with you after all.

shidou mumbles something like suit yourself before he leaves his old roommate be, mulling over the remains of his relationship with you.

sae opens his phone, the picture of you at the beach that he snapped glaring at him in this dim light. he swallows the lump in his throat—he doesn’t know how to feel. part of him knows that you feel like shit each time he does this; you’ve made it known over at least three different occasions now. but his head’s throbbing way too much and his muscles are way too sore and all he really wanted was just to come home to you, to the peacefulness he always loves.

is he really the asshole here?

a notification pops up on his phone an hour later. sae’s first train of thought is to wonder if it’s you. but it’s nothing important. it’s just oliver going over the next training’s details. the same old thing. but then sae looks up at the date and he curses inwardly.

it’s your second year anniversary. two years since you’d dated this fickle, troublesome guy.

sae’s head ducks between his palms, elbows resting on his thighs, as he considers the weight of his words.

this morning he woke up without even so much as a greeting for you; all he knew was he’d be late for practice if he didn’t leave in exactly five minutes. he’d rushed out the door and only responded to your morning greeting with a grunt. sae didn’t spare you any time for the rest of the day either, when you’d attempted to ask him out for dinner. he left you on read before ultimately tossing his phone to the side. when he came back home you’d given him a kiss and he barely reacted, too tired to give you anything even when you showed him the big dinner spread you’d cooked.

now he’s here—in an apartment at the other end of the city that’s no longer his while he left you alone in your shared apartment, leaving the argument unresolved and letting you stew in your own thoughts.

sae lets the time fly right by, staring at the ceiling while he contemplates everything. but the answer is plain and simple to him: you.

he’s tired and he’s hopelessly invested in soccer and he shouldn’t have time for anything else in his life but he wants you. he doesn’t know nearly half the right things to do in whatever situations, but the thought that he could really possibly lose you this time is enough to overwhelm him—sae grabs his car keys and leaves just as shidou and his girl leaves the room.

“oi, made up already?” he shouts after him through his front door.

sae rolls his eyes and ignores him; all he needed was some time to himself anyway. he’s glad shidou wasn’t there to poison his head with anything (or more like, he wasn’t there to convince him to drink his guts off).

ten minutes later he’s in his car and speeding back to the apartment, back to you. because no, it’s not too hard for him to assure you—it’s what he should have done. just because he’s used to being the center of dating rumours doesn’t mean you are. just because he knows it’s nothing doesn’t mean you don’t get insecure because of them.

after all, he remembers what he told you that night he asked you to be his. that he’ll make sure you’re happy. being happy all the time isn’t realistic, but at the very least, sae should’ve known better than to keep leaving you alone with your thoughts.

he speeds through the familiar city roads, however fast he’s going just doesn’t seem fast enough. but he still makes it safely back to your shared apartment within twenty minutes, and hopefully still fast enough to make sure you’re not completely disappointed in him.

it’s still raining and the living room lights are still on and he can faintly make out where you’re pacing the room through the blinds. sae feels like a creep staring at you from his car, but his heart’s pounding loudly in his ears and he can’t help but think he’s seen that sleek black car parked next to his somewhere before.

keys out the ignition, rain pattering lightly on his head, he gets out only to meet who he knows has been there for you since day one.

“done running already?” the hostility of your best friend irks him, but he can’t say he didn’t earn it. “that’s faster than i thought.”

“reo.”

your visitor rakes his hand through his purple hair, sighing and rolling his eyes. thanks to sae’s busy schedule, he hasn’t really had time to hang out with any of your friends, and probably hence their usual animosity towards him. though, well, nagi seems to be more indifferent than anything.

“if you’re here to break up with her, don’t worry, i’ll take care of her,” reo tells him, an air of indifference surrounding him. three guesses who you go to whenever you feel upset about your relationship.

sae clenches his fists, reminding himself that reo’s your best friend and punching him would do more harm than good. “i won’t,” is all sae says before he pushes past him, already done with whatever this conversation is.

reo scoffs, “for a guy who loves her, you do a shit job of showing it.”

and although sae shuts the lobby doors right after, reo’s words stay ingrained in his head. it’s not like sae doesn’t know it, but fuck if he knows what to do about it. but when he opens the front door and is greeted by the sight of your red puffy eyes, he forgets everything. forgets the frustration and the anger and the stupid excuses in his head—they’re all secondary when it comes to you anyway.

his feet take him straight to you, pulling you against his chest and holding you tight.

“i’m sorry,” he says, and that’s the easiest it’s ever come out.

from your lack of response, sae finds himself hoping for the best, hoping that he didn’t just lose you because of his stupid impulses. but then he feels your arms wrap around his waist and he hears himself breathing a sigh of relief.

“you’re an ass, you know that?” you sniffle, and it’s kind of hard to breathe when he’s pressing against you that much but you’re more relieved than anything that you don’t really care.

sae chuckles, weakly, the tension leaving his shoulders. “i know.” he can feel you pouting without even having to look at you.

“i should really leave you,” you whine, though your actions betray your words, holding him even tighter.

“then why do you put up with me?” it’s a funny thing, how he can be afraid to lose you yet he can tell that you’re not someone who gives up so easily.

that’s exactly why he has to prove that you didn’t choose the wrong person to be with.

“i guess i’m just stupid too.”

you’re not. sae’s going to make sure no one else thinks you’re stupid for staying with him. it’s enough having your best friend think that, but that’s fine, sae’ll prove him wrong soon enough. it sucks that he’s only good for soccer, but at the rate you’re going? you’ll teach him how to be a good boyfriend. he’s two years in and learning slowly but he’ll get there.

you’re the only one who can get him there.

“no,” sae says, all of a sudden, and you pull away, confused.

“no what?”

“what you asked earlier… it isn’t too hard. i’ll work on it.”

oh, must be right before he left, when you’d asked if it was hard for him to just assure you sometimes. to be honest, you didn’t think he’d even listened. but sae is sae and he’s stubborn and stupid and a little bit of an ass, but he still listens to everything you say.

you try not to break out into a smile—you don’t want to show him how whipped you really are. “i’ll hold you to your word, then.”

sae smiles, ruffling the top of your head before slowly pulling you in again. “so… don’t leave me, okay?”

it sinks in what he’s saying. you didn’t think you’d ever hear sae say those kinds of words. but it’s unfair, really, because how can you say no when he’s like this?

“you already know i won’t.”

and somehow, you’re right. sae knows you won’t. doesn’t mean he’ll get caught lacking though.

“good then.”

because he plans on keeping you forever.

#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x you #itoshi sae x you #bllk x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #sae itoshi fluff #blue lock x reader #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 months

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Strawberry and Black Tea / Sanji Imagine

Request: for the fluffy sanji request-- maybe sanji and the reader end up sleeping in each other's rooms one night because its hard for them to sleep apart. reader gives sanji a good night kiss and he just falls into a lovesick puddle on the floor.

Something short and sweet because this idea is so so lovely, thank you anon!! :)

Warning: mentions of child abuse!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

It was the Iron Mask that had left Sanji with such a distaste for the dark.

Even now, lying tossing and turning in his bunk on the Going Merry, the dark starlight that creeped through the lone porthole seemed to do nothing but shroud his eyes in a long-suppressed misery. It reminded him far too much of home. Of his father. Of nights spent trembling in dank corners: nothing but the touch of flimsy cobwebs against his outreached hands, and the ratchet of his own voice cawing off the empty stone chamber to ease the frightened child.

Until his paranoid eyes couldn’t tell of the receding monstrous shadow shrivelling up the tower was the receding form of his father, or the unyielding loosening of shrill’s death fingers rasping uneasily across the stone wall by his cage, finally come to fulfil her promise to take him away.

She grew closer and closer, until her liripipe seemed to crow through the bars as she leant down through the shadows to kiss his forehead.

He started scrambling back desperately along the dirty dust, still too young and inexperienced with the true hardships of his life to try and face them head on. Instead he buried his head into his crossed arms, tried his hardest to calm his panting breath, closed his eyes and squeezed. It was the only way, he thought in that tumultuous moment, it was the only at he would be able to hold onto his sanity. To pretend it was you. To pretend it was you. To believe it was you.

A rat scurried out of a hole between cracked shackles, sniffing the air as it noticed Sanji cowering in the corner: the same boy who had showed the rodent such kindness only e weeks before, feeding it leftover scraps of his mother’s favourite crumble, trying his best to clear the dish before his father realised it was missing. The poor thing ran over to Sanji’s shoe, it’s tiny claws pinching into the forgotten prince’s skin as it raised its little body up closer to him. But to that child - oh, that poor child - it was like bony fingernails biting into his bone and extruding coarse chills straight to the bone.

She had come. The wrong person had come. So he did what any young child would do. He started screaming.

He screamed your name. He screamed for his ma, until the screams died, choked by the wails sticking in his throat. Then he whimpered, clawing at the metal screwed against his cheeks until his fingernails were left stunted, jagged, bloodied.

He thought about how alone he was, but realised quickly that wasn’t what made him so sad. He thought about you: how you would react, how heartbroken you would be when his father announced to the world that the young Prince has perished in a terrible accident. He imagined your tear streaked face as you would watch the faux funeral procession parade in a cheerful solemnity down past the main market and into the sea, stealing away into the alleyway and seeing how alone you were.

Most of all, he felt guilty. Guilty that this was all his fault. That he had proved his brothers right. He was weak. He had destroyed his mother. He had ruined you. He was weak. And so he crumpled into a ball, falling onto his side and allowing the sweet embrace of the shadows to lap over him.

His cries had quickly fallen into pitiful whimpers. Then quiet sobs, jolting his body forward in convulsions that had left him gasping for breath every few minutes or so, only broken by the almost angelic sound of the iron wrought door being shoved unsteadily open, and the pained whisper from the top of the stairs. ’Sanji? Sanji! Where the- ow- are you?!’

'Y/-Y/n?' He clambered to his knees, and shoved his arms desperately through the bars, as if he could levitate you down towards him. 'I'm here! I'm here - please! Y/n!' His little fists began to bang on the bars as he scraped up to lean on his knees. 'Help me - get me out, please! She's going to kill me!'

It took you less than thirty seconds to scale down the remaining steps, nearly flying chin first down into the dirt. You didn't care though: not when Sanji's fingernails sliced desperately into your skin and burrowed into the meat of your arm, tugging your forehead against the cool metal of his own. You did your best to cup his face between the clunky mask, pressing your fingers down to his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 'It's alright - it's alright. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here, Sanj. We're going to run, we're going to get away.'

He refused to let you go, even as you bit your lower lip in concentration and wiggled into your pocket to pull out a stash of bobby pins you had pilfered from Vinsmoke Reiju when you had slipped into the castle. Poor Sanji nearly flies backwards onto his behind when you finally manage to click the locked gate open, yet the realisation hardly seems to dawn on him; he's leapt on you in a second flat, knees knocking the wind out of your stomach as he tumbles his torso against your awaiting hug.

'You came', he heaved out between sobs, shoving his grimacing face into the throbbing pulse point on your neck, 'you came back for me... why would you come back for me.'

The absolute dejection in the final warble of his desperate plea made you bite down on your tongue so harshly, you had to shove it against the roof of your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from spluttering on blood. 'Because, Sanj... because you're my best friend. And I love you. And we made a promise, didn't we? We're going to go find the All Blue, but we're only going to do it together. Not one without the other, right?'

He head bobs quickly, desperately. Shaking fingers latch tighter into your back, and although he wants nothing more than to grab onto your fingers and fly to freedom up that winding staircase, he slides his legs to the side and comes to sit awkwardly on your lap like a frail bird. The soft tip of his nose tickles the shell of your ear as he whispers: 'like black tea and strawberry?'

You snort, but nod your head against the side of his curls, tightening your grip around the shaking expanse of his spine. 'Yes chef, like black tea and strawberry. Even though that sounds absolutely disgusting.' His laugh- god, his laugh was so warming, even if the sound cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks slats covering his eyes and began to trace down an old bruised hollow that lay sharp and gaunt on his neck.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-', he starts to panic again, one eye blinking open as he stares into the inky depths of the umbral shade gathering over your heads. 'This is my fault. It's my fault we have to leave.'

'No.' You grab onto his shirt, nearly making him wince, but both of you refuse to unlatch from the other. 'No. This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, and I don't want you to think that for a second.'

The authoritativeness behind your shaking words was almost enough to make him believe you.

He nods slowly, but you can tell he's doing it just to placate you. 'I love you too, by the way', he sniffles, finally leaning back enough so he could wipe what he deemed as an unsightly amount of snot away from his nose. More than you know. More than he could even put into words. More than his young, frightful heart could even yet understand. He's too bashful to look you in the eye, instead skimming his eyes quickly over the torn threads of his kneecap, but finally allowing himself a respite of calm in the knowledge that the love he had been so desperately begging for hadn't abandoned him.

Before the adrenaline could rush out of his body, he leant forward with his head still bowed, and kissed your cheek as best he could in the darkness.

You hadn't left him. You hadn't: you never would. The revelation seems to shift the world around him, coaxing him into believing the sweet twilight sleeting across his eyes was sunlight instead; even though he still felt like his life was spent as a coin flipping through the air, so unsure of where it will land - of where it belongs - of the choices it will wrought, it felt a little easier afterwards, knowing he would eventually land. That it was your hand that would catch him.

He still hated the dark. And he still loved you more than life itself. Which is why you weren't surprised to find yourself running around your room at nearly one in the morning, trying your best to discreetly gather your bed sheets and sneak off towards the boy's cabin.

Before you could even finish gathering your pillow into your arms, the melodic rapt of Sanji's knuckles had rung out through the door. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide across the planks and fling it open, but it took the poor chef a lot longer to catch his breath and try to look more put together; he was doing his best to look suave by the way he was leaning his elbow against the doorframe, but the wind swept hair gave away the fact that he had come running over the side of the ship to get to you. The soft pant of his breath, the ruddy cheeks, the slight spasm of his abdominal muscles through his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, the scratch of his teeth against his inner lip line: you knew his tell-tale sings, his idiosyncrasies far too well. The man was flustered beyond belief, even if he did his best to cock his head and beam down at you.

What really gave it away - what really, really gave it away, though, was the fact that he literally had to clasp his hands together in front of his chest and wring them to stop them launching forward and grabbing onto you with the cloying, overwhelming power of eight octopus tentacles.

You almost have to shove your hand against your mouth to stifle your laugh at the way he flicked his head back to move the hair away from his eye: to anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent tick. But he knew, and more importantly you knew too, that it was just so his glistening eyes could wander across your face, as if the lines and marks of your face mapped out the most beautiful treasure in all the seas.

'Well, my strawberry, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep. Not that you need it! But I, I was hoping, if you were to grace me with such luck, that I may come in-'

Before he can even finish, you've grabbed the knot of his tie and have hauled him across the door line like a fisherman reeling in his hook. Sanji goes flying, landing safely in your open arms, and flopping his back down pleasantly into your hammock. Sanji's eyes widen as he comes sliding down the material towards you, headfirst, stopped only when his chest does the job for him. His arms thump clumsily around your back, using his fall as an excuse to pull you as physically close to him as he can. He huddles up against you, his hand spreading across your shoulder blade and guiding your ear down to rest comfortably just above his right pec. You flush, pretending you don't feel the firm ripple of his tense muscle: don't hear the pounding shudder of his tell-tale heart.

'I'll take that as a yes, ma chérie.'

Distracted by the way your arm falls around his stomach, idly reaching up to curl back the stray edges of his fringe behind the corner of his eye again, his legs inch closer... and closer... and closer... until his left one has plunked down above your own. You have to bury your head into his neck to stop yourself from laughing at how incarnadine his face spreads, warm pink waves radiating off his cheeks as you lift up your knees and slide your free leg in between the heavy weight of his thighs. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

'You know', Sanji starts, once he has calmed his heart from beating so rapidly he feared it may have flopped out through his throat, 'Zeff used to give me a kiss goodnight.'

You lift your head to stare at him incredulously. 'No he didn't. I was there for only... uh...', you lift the arm hanging over the soft skin of his bellybutton to ostentatiously count on your fingers, waving them in front of his face. 'Hm, look at that - fifteen years!?'

He leans his head down until his chin is tucked into his neck, and does his best to try and hide the way his lips are warbling into a grin; he tries to play it off as him finding your antics amusing, as he strokes his fingers tenderly over the warm cotton on your shoulder, but inside he's just so beyond giddy to know that you remembered. To know that you had been together so long. To know that after all this time, after all the two of you had been through, he would gladly dredge through the unspeakable caliginosity again, if it meant he could always arrive at this moment. If it meant, no matter what his life threw at him, he could spend every moment of it by your side.

Even if the shadows are juddering up the walls of the girl's cabin too: even if your stroking fingers can't mask the memories of death's sharp knuckles stretching out across the walls. Even if he were to land, right now, in the waves: if he were to capsize and drown, he would be happy. He would be happy, because it was your hand instead. Your hand.

Too timid still, too apprehensive to admit that which had been a heavy weight holding down the flight of his sweet heart, he hides his love behind canorous tease.

'Yeah, well, Zeff did it when he could be arsed. Which I’m pretty sure was never.'

You snort, and he delights at the sound that he had drawn out. His vice like grip on your side tightens, but you decide better than to tease him for the way he begins squirming himself against you. He finally settles properly on his side, the bridge of his nose so dangerously close to yours that you can feel the shallow warmth of his breath brush over your bottom lip.

'Well-', he starts, trying to distract himself from your proximity. He was failing horribly, of course, because his eyes kept falling down to stare blankly at the seam of your lips. 'This does sure beat sleeping on the dungeon floor, even if we do have to put up with Luffy's snoring.'

'Hm, the dungeon wasn't too bad. Cosy', you say teasingly, letting your finger dance down the shell of his ear, pointing the tip against the jut of his chin and lifting his gaze with a smirk.

'How'd you figure that, sweetheart?' The feel of your finger against his skin, no matter how miniscule the touch, was enough to make the fibres of his body burn with such a want that it almost scared him.

'Because... it was the first place you ever kissed me.'

Sanji starts, eyes widening as he feels his limbs turn to stone.

He can't hide in the shadows anymore. Now, he has to come into the light. Has to let himself be free.

'Yeah, well strawberry', he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue, and folds himself further down the hammock so his knees are drawn warmly up against your own. The shaking of his torso is only overshadowed by the widening of his eyes, so full of deep wonder the dams might have burst and drowned you if he hadn't spent so years cautiously restraining himself. You draw a finger down the pulse point of his neck, and he feels that resolve weaken.

He feels like that frightened boy again, but he knows it has to be now. He knows he's been lucky to have had the luxury of borrowed time, but the bell has tolled: the bill has come due, and now he must admit the truth of his life - of his soul - of his heart, for he doesn't know when it will become too late.

He wanted to kiss you. God, he had wanted to kiss you so badly for fifteen years it hurt. Now, now he was going to create his own light: he was going to thrive, in spite of it all. He was going to allow that child to live. The cage was open. He was free. His choices were decided by nobody now but by his own ruling, his own compassion, and he had wasted far too many years training himself to be sceptical, precise, composed.

'... If you may be so kind as to permit it... I think this beautiful ship might end up being the second.' He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He suddenly becomes hyperaware of it all: of the closeness of your thigh against his own: slick, naked, vulnerable below your pyjama shorts. Your warm breath, inching closer and closer to his trembling mouth as he juts his head back to look warily at you, so afraid he's messed everything up.

But then you surprise him; you rush forward, overwhelming and crushing in the way your lips pliantly slide over his own, licking against the inside of his bottom lip as it drops open, breathlessly.

He had been waiting for this - over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you back: heartily, heavily, with a slipping mouth awaiting your tongue, and clawing fingers coming up to rapt into your cheeks as if you were something fleeting: as if he were still spinning in mid-air, waiting for the shadows to snuff the light out again.

When you finally find the strength, the resilience to pull away, neither of you seem to be able to muster the courage to just finally admit the truth you had both always known. Sanji, instead, looks youthfully shy as he tries to hide his wanting - god, so longing gaze behind his fringe once more, although his tongue can't help but prod against his bottom lip as if in disbelief.

'Like strawberry and black tea, right?', he finally asks against the side of your mouth, nudging his nose against your own and smiling fondly.

'Like strawberry and black tea.'

#one piece #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #one piece imagine #opla #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla imagine #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji fluff #one piece x reader

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

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Immortal

Yandere Lich x Afab Reader

There was no such thing as magic or monsters. They were old tales once used to scare children… or so she thought.

What stood before her could not be described as a man… no. This was no man, but a monster parading around in the flesh of her lover. An undead monster with malevolent glowing ruby eyes in his pitch black eye sockets.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this, my dear…” The creature’s husky voice whispers. He outstretches his hand to try to tuck a strand of hair behind her face, but she flinched away when some of the skin falls off his hand to reveal more skeleton. “This skin had started to decay too quickly… I don’t mean to scare you-“

(Your name) could only scream as she tried to flee, but something invisible held her in her place. Her feet now stuck to the ground like a tree as her body trembles like a leaf under his intense gaze.

“W-who are you?”

“It’s me, Aeron.” The undead creature gave her a bow, his rotten hand now tenderly caresses her face. “I’m your lover of course-“

(Your name) fails to shift her head away, her body convulsing in sobs when he presses the teeth of his skeletal face in an attempt to kiss her. More of Aeron’s flesh fell off in the process, the soft skin now sat on her shoulder. Tears spill from her eyes in horror.

“This is quite a sight for your eyes, my dear…” ‘Aeron’ pulls back with a sigh, he peels off the rest of the skin off his face to reveal an entire skeleton save for his ruby eyes. “I sadly do not have the same appealing appearance I had a millennium ago… but I simply could not stay away once I sensed you were back in this world.”

Aeron grabbed her hands and held them up to his rotted chest. The black metal band on his skeletal ring finger terrifies her to her very core. This monster was not her fiancé… “My heart may long be gone but I swear it beat only for you. I had no reason to have flesh or organs once you ceased to exist…” Aeron pressed his teeth to her soft hands with a cry. “I miss being able to touch you… to feel you. I envy that man who was in my place for a brief time but he is no more. He hasn’t been for a few years now actually.”

Aeron then sat back, his terrifying face tilted to the side when her tears didn’t stop falling. “My dear why do you cry? Do you not remember me? My name? I… I don’t quite remember my name either so I borrowed your temporary lover’s.”

“W-what are you?” (Your name) stutters out. This monster has been by her side for three years and she never noticed… how could she not notice?

“Well I am what you would call a lich. I sacrificed my humanity for immortality so I could meet you again once you were reborn. I was once your lover over a thousand years ago.” Aeron threw his hands up in the air. “I eliminated all other magic in this world so nothing could ever harm you again. I didn’t want something as silly as priests to stop us from being together again. How lucky was I that you weren’t chosen to be the saintess again.”

(Your name) watches the lich ramble. She was lost and didn’t have a clue on what he spoke of. They were lovers a thousand years ago and he waited a millennium to be reunited with her? She was a saintess? Then what was he?

“My dear, don’t question it too much. You’ll hurt you head.” The lich snapped his fingers, the flesh flew back onto his body and repaired itself. A familiar handsome man with dark hair stood before her now. Aeron smiled at her. “We can just pretend this never happened again… just like he have for the last three times you found out.”

“The what?” A hand was waved over her face and (your name) no longer knew what she was about to say… or why she was upset in the first place. “Aeron? What happened?”

“You just had a bit of a headache my dear. How about I make you a cup of tea to help?” Aeron rubs her back in a reassuring manner, his red eyes filled with love. “Just sit on the couch okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

(Your name) nods her head and goes over to sit down on the couch. She plops her body down while Aeron fetches her a fresh cup of tea.

Aeron smiles at his reflection in the window. Yes… this human face will do for now. All he has to do is convince her to stay with him forever. He wouldn’t fail this time… he had her wrapped around his finger rather than on opposite sides during a war.

Aeron was no longer an enemy necromancer but her lover. Her fiancé.

He’d burn the whole world down again if he had to. Aeron would do anything for his love… he’s already sold his soul and waiting a millennium for her. What was another thousand years to a lich?

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satorisoup · 2 months

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TAKE A SEAT .ᐟ ft. suguru geto

CW : slightly suggestive? (no nsfw). aged up. pet names (doll). clubbing. men are nasty and geto just wants to protect you *sobs*.

everyone knows satoru gojo would be the possessive type of man. it’s a known fact that he gets jealous, wanting you all to himself.

however, no one ever takes into account his best friend, geto. they would never peg him as possessive, being the gentle, caring man he is. but boy, are they wrong, because suguru geto beats gojo by 10 miles when it comes to making sure you’re his, and only his.

it’s 7pm on a saturday night, and the club is bustling with patrons like a zoo. the bartop is almost full, and the dance floor is waving with parades of drunkened movements and hiccupy giggles. men and women combined in a hot, crowded building to let off some steam and practically paw at eachother like feral animals with no shame.

suguru wishes this club was empty.

you, in that pretty little black dress that hugs you in all of the right places, riding at just below your thighs, feet clad in a new pair of sparkly high heels that geto had bought you recently “just because”.

he finds it rather astonishing that you don’t seem to notice, or maybe rather ignore, the stares that are sent your way. filthy men who ogle you up and down with no remorse, dusty pink cheeks from the alcohol in their system and grimy smirks that are all too unpleasing.

he can’t help but feel a little bad, as all you were doing was standing there trying to order a drink, your entire hand holding two of his large fingers as a way to not lose him.

why are people so incredibly vulgar?

he doesn’t care to upset you by saying something, and he doesn’t feel that he should take you home. you were looking forward to coming here with him all night long, excited rambles flowing from your mouth the entire car ride here. you’re precious self got all dressed up, dainty and beautiful just for him. he should be appreciating it to the fullest, so he decides to keep quiet, and allow the night to go on.

you’re on the dance floor now, smiling and swaying to your hearts content while geto keeps a hand on your waist, faces close and eyes that wander across yours. this moment is truly a sight for sore eyes to witness, and he wouldn’t want to trade it for anything, because seeing you happy is all he needs before a breath of air.

but all he needs now, is for these men to back up and away from you. they’re far too close for comfort, orbs of a nasty gaze that follow you as if you’re prey to be devoured, and they’re just waiting for the right time to pounce. geto has been ignoring it for you, yes, but it’s when he catches a slow, not so subtle brush of a hand against the plump skin of your bottom, geto finally snaps.

you’re guided with geto’s hand by the small of your back to a corner of the club, a table with cushioned booths in view. geto’s sitting down before you’re able to utter a word. he looks to you with a piercing gaze, eyes locked with yours. he speaks up with words of sultry and tone divine,

“be a good girl f’me and sit on my lap,” he pats his thigh, hands reaching for your waist with soft fingers grazing the plush of your hips. his touch is merciful, innocent, and kind, but his words reap a practical demand leaking of pure pride,

“wanna display you as mine like the pretty doll you are.”

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