#single floor villa

[pencilinteriors1]

[home-stuck-in-desert-bluffs]

Home Bar - Single Wall

[theemporium]

Despite the fact drivers were meant to be cautious of their size and weight, Carlos Sainz was an absolute beast of a man.

Everything about him was big and you loved it, far more than you cared to admit. You loved the way he towered over you. You loved the way his thick arms would wrap around you. You loved his broad shoulders and thigh thighs and big hands and just every single damn thing about your boyfriend. Every single aspect of him lived in your head on a loop, not a passing moment in your life where you weren’t thinking about some part of him. 

And his personality only matched. Carlos Sainz was never one to half-ass something, regardless if it was a race or a date night—or in the most recent case, a honeymoon. 

He knew from the first day he met you that he was going to marry you. He knew that the day he found the perfect ring, that would be his sign that he was ready to propose and that day came around two years later. 

The ring was beautiful and large and encaptured everything beautiful about Carlos. The wedding felt like something out of a fairytale. The reception had felt like the best day of your life and you swore nothing would ever top it. 

And then Carlos whisked you away on your dream vacation, starting off with a massive villa on the Amalfi Coast. It was huge, far too big for the two of you but Carlos had insisted that it was what you deserved. 

Though, you should have known his real reason was so that he could fuck you in every single one of those rooms in the villa, with the sight of his wife and the Italian coast as his perfect view.

“Carlos—fuck!”

“Go on, baby, scream for me.”

“It’s too much!”

“Shhh, you’re taking it so well,” Carlos praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he gripped your thighs even tighter. “Don’t even need to do anything, just look pretty for me.”

You let out a choked noise, your lips parting as your husband continued to bounce you up and down on his cock. The last few days since you landed had been similar. Whichever room you were in, whatever you were wearing, whatever you were doing never mattered to Carlos. He just needed to have his hands on you. He just needed to have his cock inside you. 

He just needed you.

And it was hard to forget how big and strong your husband was when he did everything in his power to remind you.

Whether it was engulfing you as he fucked you from behind, keeping you trapped between his body and the wall as he slid inside you, or even pressing down on the bulge in your stomach when he fucks you on the bed, cooing at the reminder that even his cock was too big—Carlos was big and everything reminded you of that fact.

“Hmm, just like that, amor,” Carlos groaned as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Just hold onto me. Let me do the work, mi hermosa esposa.”

“S’too much, Carlos,” you whined as he stood by the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the setting sun. You had been admiring the oranges and pinks and purples in the sky when Carlos had settled in beside you, lasting all of three minutes before he was all over you—despite the fact you were still leaking from his last load.

“Never get enough of you, mi amor,” Carlos gritted through clenched teeth as he continued to move you up and down his cock, as his arms flexed with every move, as he fucked you like you were just a toy rather than his wife. And yet, he was barely breaking a sweat as he kept going and going and going and—

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as you clenched around his cock, nuzzling your face into his warm chest as you felt your body shake with the intensity of your orgasm but Carlos held you close. He let you wrap your legs around him as he held you to him, as he guided you through your orgasm until you were clinging onto him.

“Perfect for me,” Carlos hummed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Every part of you was made for me, made for my cock.”

You snorted. “I still think it’s too big for me.”

You could feel his smile against your temple. “And yet, I make it fit every single time.”

“You’re doing God’s work, Mr Sainz,” you teased playfully as he huffed out a laugh.

“Anything for you, Mrs Sainz.”

.

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

[Commissioned] Wrong Place - Hanni NewJeans

Tag: Non-con, Mentioned Cheating, Messy Face Fucking, Throat Fuck, Cum Swallowing, Breeding, Creampie

Character: Hanni - NewJeans × M!Reader

Word Count: 5,405

Over the weekend, Hanni found herself stuck at home while her parents were off on a boring business trip. To top it off, her boyfriend was tied up with some lame part-time job crap.

But then, her friend, Danielle, who attended a different college from her, spilled the beans about a party she was planning to hit up. Hanni's ears perked up at the mention of a party, and she felt a sudden urge to join the scene.

Danielle wasn't exactly keen on bringing a, for the lack of a better word, studious girl like Hanni to this particular shindig. She made it clear that it wasn't your run-of-the-mill party and definitely not a place for someone who was not used to party like Hanni.

But Hanni wasn't about to take no for an answer. She put on her best puppy-dog face and cooked up some lame excuse about being scared shitless to be home alone. She even promised Danielle she'd be on her best behavior and all that jazz.

Thing is, Hanni had never been to any party before, so she kept hammering away at Danielle until she caved. "Fine, you can come, but don't come crying to me if shit hits the fan. You're on your own.”

The next day, the day of the party arrived. The moment Hanni stepped into the villa where the whole shebang was going down, her heart started doing somersaults in her chest. It was like it wanted to bail on her, right then and there.

This party was off the chain. People were half-naked all over the place, going at it like rabbits. Boys and girls were making out in full view, not giving a single fuck. Some girls were even getting gangbanged by the pool while everyone cheered them on like a bunch of horny spectators.

Sex was happening left and right, at every corner Hanni's eyes landed on. Booze and pills were scattered all over, like a goddamn buffet of debauchery. The whole scene was so in-your-face that it hit Hanni like a ton of bricks, making her gulp hard.

Danielle looked over at Hanni, smirking like she knew what was up. Well, she did warn Hanni, fair and square. She gave Hanni a pat on the shoulder. "Remember, I'm not taking any responsibility here. Take care of yourself and feel free to bail whenever you want~ Bye!”

And just like that, Danielle disappeared into the sea of bodies, leaving this uneasy girl to fend for herself at this godforsaken party. Anxiety tightened its grip on her with each passing moment, turning her into a shrunken shadow lurking in the background.

She couldn't escape the lewd scenes playing out before her eyes, pushing the limits of her endurance. Shit was getting real, and regret started gnawing at her heart. She knew deep down she shouldn't have insisted on coming to this place. This was totally not her kind of place.

Haunted by the indecency surrounding her, she desperately sought refuge from the madness. She made her way upstairs, slyly avoiding a bunch of girls having nasty sex under the staircase. Talk about a sight she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Most of the rooms on the second floor were occupied, locked, but luck was on her side as she found herself at the last one down the hallway. She barged in, slamming the door shut behind her. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch.

Little did Hanni know, this room belonged to you, the unlucky bastard who had just been shot down by some arrogant junior on campus. "Fucking bitches," you grumbled as you locked the door behind you, seeking some semblance of privacy.

As you plopped down on the couch, you noticed an unfamiliar handbag lying there and curiosity got the best of you as you decided to snoop around a bit. Rifling through the girly items inside, you stumbled upon a wallet.

Opening it up, your eyes scanned the ID, it looked more like a student visa and a smirk tugged at your lips as you checked out the info. "Vietnamese? No shit?" you muttered, unable to believe what you saw.

Just as you were admiring the image on the ID, Hanni casually popped out of the bathroom, clueless about your presence in the room. You instantly gave Hanni a lustful once-over, checking her out from head to toe.

Her outfit, a simple sleeveless crop top and a low waist skirt, were hugging her frame in all the right places, accentuating her curves. It was like innocence and sexiness had a wild sex and birthed this tantalizing combo that got your libido rising.

You leaned back on the couch, flashing her a sly smile. "Well, hello there, Miss Hanni Pham," you drawled, your eyes hungrily feasting on her curvy figure, mainly her exposed belly.

Seeing her picture, you thought she'd look all young and innocent, but were you off the mark. She definitely had that cute factor going on, however, her body was something else. That sexy tummy and those hips, they looked like they were just begging to be held onto while she got pounded hard.

Hanni's eyes practically popped out of her head when she spotted you in the room. She nervously stammered, "W-Who are you?" Her sweet voice was trembling, her mind trying to make sense of the situation.

Caught off guard by Hanni's sudden question, you fired it right back at her. "And who might you be?" After all, this was your room, no doubt about it.

Hanni's face turned beet red as she realized her mistake. "Oh, I-I'm so sorry! I must have barged in without thinking," she blurted out, genuinely remorseful. She looked away, fidgeting with her hands.

Her timid response only made you find Hanni even more adorable. So you softened your expression, extending a reassuring hand her way. "No need to apologize. It's just a little mix-up, I'm pretty sure," you said, your voice soothing and gentle. "This happens to be my room, by the way."

Hanni met your gaze, visibly relieved that you did not seem to be a bad guy. "I-I see. I'm really sorry. I was just..." She paused, glancing toward the door. "I'll get out of here right away," she abruptly added.

Intrigued by Hanni's unexpected presence and captivated by her innocent charm, you felt your hormones raging, especially after your failed attempts to get down and dirty with your juniors.

"How about sticking around for a while? I just caught sight of a couple fucking their brains out in the hallway. I'm sure you don't want a front-row seat for that, right? That's why you ended up here, am I wrong?" you tossed out, trying to convince her to hang out a little longer.

You hit the nail. Hanni's surprise was written all over her face. She hesitated for a moment, torn between her original intentions and the undeniable curiosity that now gripped her. Eventually, her shy nature gave in, and she nodded hesitantly, deciding to stay in the room.

"Oh, right. My bad for messing up your stuff. I thought maybe someone had left their crap lying around or something," you said, stuffing all her belongings back into her handbag and placing it on the seat beside you, luring her to come closer.

"Th-thank you," Hanni stammered, her voice barely audible as her nervousness consumed her. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Unable to resist the growing temptation, you gestured for Hanni to join you on the couch. "Come on, Hanni-ssi," you purred, patting the seat beside you. "Take a load off. Let's have a chat and sip on some drinks. Let's get to know each other."

Without waiting for her response, you casually flipped the unused upside down cups on the tray at the corner of the table in front of the couch, before grabbing some vodka from a bottle you had lying around on the cabinet nearby.

You weren't even sure what brand it was, but alcohol is alcohol. You poured the vodka into the cups and slid one over to the side where you expected Hanni to sit.

Hanni grabbed her bag from the couch and plopped down beside you, clutching it tightly. The air in the room crackled with an undeniable tension, and you had a mischievous plan up your sleeve to coax Hanni into some twisted fun.

Sporting a sly grin, you persuaded Hanni to take a sip of the vodka you had poured for her. But she hesitated as she politely declined, "No, it's okay. I'm, I'm not used to drink alcohol, Sunbae."

Hearing her confession that she was kind of a good girl type of fashion sent a rush of excitement through your veins. The thought of toying with her innocence made your pulse quicken. But you knew you had to tread carefully.

In a persuasive tone, you continued to nudge Hanni, tempting her. "Don't be so formal, Hanni," you coaxed. "Calling me oppa is fine. We all have our first times, right?"

Hanni's eyes flickered indecision, caught between her reservations and the pull of the forbidden. Sensing her internal struggle, you maintained a patient approach, fully aware that rushing things could lead to disaster.

Suppressing your primal urges, you focused on slowly seducing Hanni, leading her deeper into the realm of decoy. "Come on, Hanni," you whispered, your voice dripping with suspense. "Just a little sip won't hurt. It'll be our little secret.”

Hanni finally gave in and took a sip of the fiery liquid. She coughed, her delicate frame trembling as she set the cup down, pressing her chest in discomfort. The strong taste of the alcohol caught her off guard, but you weren't done with her.

Putting on a concerned face, you scooted closer to Hanni, your hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing gesture but your touch had ulterior motives. Your fingers traced the outline of her bra through her top, teasing and testing the game.

"You kinda drank it the wrong way," you whispered with faux sweetness. "Let me show you the right way." You picked up her drink and brought it to her lips, locking eyes with her. “Take it in one shot. It will taste way better," you fibbed, making your intentions crystal clear.

"N-no, wait–"

You didn't give her a chance to protest further, forcefully guided the liquid down her throat, your grip firm. The mingling taste of the alcohol and her resistance created a heady cocktail of dominance and submission, fuelling your lust.

Hanni’s cough filled the room, her throat burning from the alcohol. It was like the perfect opportunity presented itself, and you took it immediately, firmly pressed your hand on her abdomen, rubbing in a way that was both comforting and sinister.

Hanni's eyes widened, and she realized your sick intentions. She judged you wrong. She knew exactly what you were up to. She wasn't going to let it happen as she pushed you away, trying to escape the situation, but you weren't about to let her slip away that easily.

You grabbed hold of Hanni, pulling her onto your lap and wrapping your arm around her waist. The alcohol in your cup was poured into your mouth but instead of swallowing, you smashed your lips against hers in a forceful and messy kiss.

She struggled against your advances, her protests muffled when your lips locked, and you passed the liquid from your mouth into hers, some of it dripping down her chin and staining her clothes. The taste of vodka mixed with the warmth of her mouth, creating an intoxicating blend that only fueled your hunger even more.

You slid your hand down her back, your fingers tracing the curve of her spine before gripping her slim waist, holding her in place. The taste of vodka lingered on your lips as you deepened the kiss, exploring the depths of her mouth with a thirst that bordered on obsession.

Hanni's struggles grew more desperate, fear dancing in her eyes. But you paid no mind to her resistance. Your free hand found its way to her thigh, fingers grazing the soft skin beneath her skirt. With a low growl, you broke the kiss. Hanni gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to regain her composure.

“You're about to find out just how fucking good a party like this can be,” you said, your voice coated with authority.

“S-Stop! Please! Let me go! Ugh!” she said, trying to get up.

Just as you were about to lean in for another kiss, Hanni's phone suddenly rang from inside her handbag, shattering the spell that had enveloped you. You fished her phone out, quickly checking the nickname on the screen.

Turns out Hanni already had a boyfriend, but you didn't give a damn about that. With a smirk, you answered the call, a wicked glint in your eyes. "Sorry, dude, my baby is a bit tied up right now," you taunted, then promptly turned off her phone, cutting off any connection to the outside world.

Hanni's eyes widened in disbelief and horror at what you had done. "No!!!" she screamed, desperation filling her voice, as she reached out to grab the phone from your hand. Ignoring her pleas, you tossed the phone aside.

Pushing her back onto the couch, you positioned yourself between her legs, as you pinned her hands beside her head. The power you held over the girl depleted any concern for her well-being or personal relationships.

"You better calm down, babe," you threatened, a hostile glint in your eyes. "If you keep acting up, I'll bring my boys in here to have some fun with you. Ever thought about taking in more than one dick at a time?"

Hanni's whole body trembled with fear, her eyes welling up with tears. She pleaded desperately, "Please... Just let me go. I want to go home..."

"Going home?" you sneered, leaning in closer, your clothed erection pressing against her crotch. "Then why the fuck did you come here in the first place, huh?"

Tears streamed down Hanni's cheeks as she broke into sobs. "Dani..."

“Dani? Ah, Danielle.” You recalled you had hung out with that petite girl a few times before and were well aware of how Danielle handled herself in wild parties like this.

That girl might seem pure and delicate to the people who don't know her but she was probably off somewhere, getting high on a few cocks in this villa so no need to worry about her much as nothing was going to stand between you and this fresh prey.

Without further delay, you buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, savoring her sweet scent. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body tingling with goosebumps as you trailed kisses towards her flushed ear.

Yearning for more of her taste, you traced your tongue along her earlobe, eliciting a moan from the girl. "Mmm!"

Cupping her face, you made her meet your gaze. "I'll fuck you better than your boyfriend ever could," you whispered.

She struck your chest, screaming, "No! I don't want to! Argh!"

You effortlessly seized both of her hands and pulled her up, guiding her to lean against the backrest. Ensuring she stayed still, you cradled her in your lap before removing your jacket.

Grasping both sides of her face, you kissed her once more, your tongue delving into her open mouth. "Mmph!" She attempted to pull away, but you sucked her tender tongue into your mouth. After breaking the kiss, you took hold of her hands that had been clawing at your shoulders as you stood up, your bulge positioned right in front of her face.

Placing her hands on your belt, you smiled down at her. "Come on, Hanni. Don't be shy. Come get your milk since you don't like alcohol." She vigorously shook her head. There was no way she was going to suck a stranger's dick.

You harshly tugged at her hair, causing her to yelp. “Fucking do it before I completely lose my shit and rape the shit out of your cunt.”

"P-Please... I-I don't know how... I haven't..." She gasped for air, cut off by your action of pulling her messy hair and delivered a light slap.

"We'll do this the hard way then." You hopped off the couch, dragging her by her the arm toward the door. "No! Please!" She dropped to her knees, resisting your pull by putting more weight on her body.

Snapping her arm off, you undid your belt, a mocking tone in your voice. "I'll give you a hand this time," you taunted, unzipping your jeans while observing her sobbing-shaking on the floor.

Hanni knew she was about to be violated and and the realization that she couldn't do anything to prevent it shattered her spirit. Your threat hit her hard. She had no desire to be at the disposal of multiple strangers she didn't even know.

"Hold on, o-oppa... Can we just take things slow?" she pleaded, holding back a cry.

"Um... Yeah, sure, sorry." You took a step back but before she had a chance to catch her breath, you forcefully slammed her against the couch and delivered a harsh slap across her face. In a burst of anger, you erupted, "Don't be a damn prude. We both know you're here to have fun! So be a good little bitch and do as I fucking say."

You held the girl down on the couch by her throat and tore her top and flimsy white bra off until her firm breasts were exposed to hang freely. You squeezed her mound and tugged at her pink nipples, causing her to yelp. She felt her nipples throb under your cruel treatment.

"Shut the fuck up. You only make noise when I tell you to," you barked, delivering another hard slap across her cheek.

Hanni hugged her naked body, crying out for help, though her pleas fell on deaf ears. Tears streamed down her face, smudging the light makeup that would soon be further ruined.

"Now then..." Your boxer and jeans crumpled around your ankles as you presented your thick cock to her small round face. "Open your mouth, Hanni."

As expected, the innocent and fragile girl remained steadfast, continuing to cry as if it could save her. But you took matters into your own hands, gripping her head and positioning it towards your eager member.

You tightly grasped the hair at the top of her head and pulled back. "Ack— Ough!"

Half of your cock slipped into her warm, wet mouth. "Ah, fuck!" With force, you pressed her face onto your cock, thrusting forward. "Damn! I could cum already. Haa!"

"Bleurgh!" Hanni gagged, her nails digging into your thighs as she desperately tried to push you away. Your lengthy thickness gradually stretched her jaws, causing her eyes to roll up as your cockhead invaded her tight throat.

The sensation of her soft, spongy mouth ignited a craving for more. You began to move your hips, holding her head in place. Hanni's adorable red lips wrapped tightly around your shaft, gliding back and forth, leaving a trail of saliva behind.

As the pace quickened, a more sticky thicker drool dripped down her chin, eventually reaching the floor. Nonstop tears streamed down her cheeks as she blinked weakly, struggling with each gag as your cock slid past her uvula.

She choked on your cock, feeling the solidity of it going down her throat and back out again, causing her to retch but finding nothing to spit out. Out of breath, she coughed painfully, snorting out snot through her reddened nose. Groaning in despair, she lifted her ass in an attempt to retreat from your cock, but to no avail.

"Fuck yeah... Shit, shit, shit! Ohh!"

Your knees bent, your toes curling as you hit the peak, shooting excessive load inside her aching mouth. Hanni had no choice but to swallow and suffocate on the sticky substance filling her throat, threatening to overflow from her mouth, but your cock acted as a barrier.

As your senses slowly returned, you withdrew from her mouth. Hanni collapsed onto all fours, coughing and gasping for air while spitting out the remaining mixture of your semen and her own saliva. It continued to drip onto the floor since she couldn't close her mouth.

Meanwhile, you took a seat on the edge of the table a step behind you, slightly out of breath from the intense orgasm that had just subsided. A smile formed on your face as you looked at the whimpering girl.

"That was amazing. Are you sure you never sucked cocks before? First time?" you expressed, reaching forward to give her ass a firm smack, followed by a squeeze.

Hanni's will to speak was shattered, her gasps mingling with her sobs. She felt disgusted. How she would ever be able to tell anyone about this. Thoughts of her parents and her caring boyfriend crossed her mind, causing her to cry even harder.

Irritated by the lack of response from the girl, you yanked her hair, pulling her head between your spread legs. You lifted her face to meet your gaze.

“Why so sad? Don't tell me you're not a fan of swallowing cum. Do you prefer to get drunk on vodka instead?” you mocked, gently brushing aside the hair that clung to her tear-stained face before taking off your shirt.

Hanni shook her head slowly, her body jerking with each sob. You flashed a smile and used the shirt to wipe away the tears, snot, and cum from her face. Her makeup had completely vanished, but her natural cuteness radiated even more on her bare face.

"Did I push my baby girl too far? It's alright, let's take it easy this time," you said, tossing the crumpled shirt aside. Taking her hands, you placed them on your sticky, slippery cock. "Suck it clean, okay? Get it nice and hard again, or else someone else might get a turn with you."

Hanni didn't have much choice but to do as you said. She knew she was trapped, and trying to escape would only make things worse. With shaky hands, she started stroking your hardening shaft.

Her small, soft hands struggled to fully grasp your size, but they were more than enough to reignite your sex drive. You placed a hand on top of her head, leaning back slightly. Hanni held her breath, even closing her eyes for a moment, before she finally took your girth in her mouth.

You simply guided her head down, relishing the sensation of her soft lips enveloping your fully erect cock. "There you go," you hissed with pleasure. "Keep your eyes on me and suck it."

She opened her eyes and locked her gaze with yours, maintaining eye contact as she blew you to the max of her ability. Her head bobbed up and down without any need for further direction from you. You could feel her tongue trapped beneath, pulsating against the underside of your sensitive cock, adding an extra level of sensation.

As Hanni slobbered on your cock, you snatched the vodka bottle with your free hand and took a few big gulps. "Pwaaa!" you let out a satisfied huff, forcing her face even lower, making her gag harshly. "Fuck! I can never get enough of this."

Setting the bottle down, you started using her head like a fleshlight. Her neat blowjob quickly turned into a sloppy one as she gagged louder, coughing up spit all over your cock, her nails digging into your thighs, trying to prevent her nose from hitting your pelvis.

"I'm gonna fucking cum again at this rate... Ughhh!" you groaned, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. "But I know you're just gonna waste it all again, so–"

With a forceful push, you ejected her off your cock, sending her tumbling to the floor, heaving. The mixture of precum and her spit dripped excessively. You stood up and grabbed her under her arm, dragging her across the room to the bed.

Shoving her onto her back, you wasted no time and swiftly grabbed her legs, pulling her lower body to the edge of the mattress. Stepping forward between her spread legs, you lifted her mini skirt up to her waist, revealing her white panties.

Hanni tried to spring up, but you pushed her back down again. She quickly covered her crotch with her hands, but you swatted them away. "W-Wait... No, please–"

You slapped her breast and gave it a hard squeeze. "Shut up. Brace yourself, 'cause I'm gonna stretch your pussy real good."

Losing patience, you ripped her panties right in the middle, exposing her bald pussy completely. With your elbows keeping her thighs apart, you started rubbing her entrance, all wet and ready.

"Nngh!" Hanni bit her lip, trying to hold back unwilling moan as she clutched the sheets beside her head. She had reluctantly accepted that she couldn't avoid this, but the thought of you fucking her raw made her head spin.

Once you had sufficiently lubricated your middle finger, you slid it inside her folds, testing the waters. “No…!” Her body tensed up right away, tightness surrounding your finger. But there was no barrier to stop its full penetration as it disappeared completely inside her.

"You're such a slut but I know exactly how to handle naughty little sluts like you." You pushed your finger back into her cunt. She cried out, then gasped, gritting her teeth to stifle a moan.

Hanni let out a squeal as you suddenly replaced your finger with your full length inside her pussy. She felt her inner walls ripping, her eyes widening in shock. You were thick enough to cause some pain as you ground yourself into her, smashing her hips down onto the bed.

Words failed you, and you moved your body as if on autopilot. Uncontrolled cries of discomfort pain burst out of her as you started thrusting, fast, deep, and ruthless, relentlessly battering her inside. Her ass slammed against the bed with each savage stroke, your cock driving her down and across the mattress.

One hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head up to watch her swollen pussy as your cock slid in and out. Your arm snaked upward, giving her breast a squeeze. Your breath was hot on her face as you pumped rougher.

"You're mine now, you little– Fuck!" You couldn't even finish your sentence as her velvety canal overwhelmed your senses.

Both of your hands slid up and firmly encircled her throat. You weren't choking her, but she could feel your strength, aware that you had the power to do so all the while your cock slammed into her deeply, never stopping or pausing.

Your breath quickened, and your hands circled her waist, moving her onto you. Lifted up and down, you were using her like a fuck toy. You pounded a few more thrusts then your balls tightened, so you had to stop for a moment, your cock buried deep inside her, the tip hitting a barrier that you could not see.

You let out a breath, not ready to blow your load just yet, but even when you paused, her pussy clenched and sucked you in. One hand that had been groping her tit slid down to her sweaty stomach, pressing against the pillowy flesh. The other hand hooked under her knee, lifting her leg up to her chest, granting better access.

"I'm gonna fill this up," you muttered, not really talking to anyone specific, as you admired and massaged her belly. "I'm gonna cum so much inside you, Hanni baby. I'll fucking impregnate you."

The other girls you'd fucked were always worried about stupid shits like condoms and pulling out, but with this girl, nothing was going to stop you from satisfying your own cravings. You pulled back, leaving just the tip inside, before slamming your cock back into her wet pussy, making wetness around her entrance splatter.

She gasped, her stomach sunking, and her back arching. It was so easy to pound into her now; her body betrayed her, getting even wetter than ever before. All she could discern was the deliberate stretch of her inner walls as your thick cock filled her up completely. That's all you could feel too.

You fucked her slower, but each thrust was harder and sharper, probably hitting her cervix dead-on. Hanni fought her way back to reality as her body adjusted to the deep, thorough glide in and out of her slippery tunnel. It was a struggle, but with each impact, she managed to ease the ache.

"You feeling better now, huh?" you laughed, like you could read her mind. Didn't take a genius to figure it out; her pussy’s clenching walls and sloshing wetness spoke volumes.

Her resistance was crumbling with each passing second. Your actions had her mind all fuzzy and messed up. Her body was losing control, no match for your brutal, ripping thrusts.

She was panting, squirming, twisting, and bucking—nothing she did could escape the scorching heat in her core, the fullness of your cock sliding in and out, over and over, while you held on tight and dominated her writhing form. You picked up the pace, and she huffed and shuddered, and then a long, blissful moan marked the start of her shattered resistance.

"Hanni," you mumbled her name, driving as deep as you could reach into her and leaning forward to suck on her tits, one by one, as her pussy helplessly milked your swollen cock.

“So hot and tight. Ohh... Oh shit!”

A wet heat pooled deep in her belly as you pumped load after load of cum into her pussy. Hanni wailed, a sound that could've been pleasure or a protest against you cumming inside her fertile womb.

Nonetheless, she didn't care anymore, not at that moment. The fraction of your cock in her overstimulated tunnel set her brain off. Thick, creamy cum oozed between your bodies and dripped down her ass.

Instead of stopping right there, you kept going, your sensitive cock hungry for more. The mix of her sweaty floral scent, her blissful state, and her vulnerability only drove you harder, making your cock stand at full attention.

Your grip on her hips tightened as you pounded away with savage determination. You growled into her ear, "You're mine now. I won't quit. I'm gonna fill your pussy with my cum." Your hand found its way back to her throat, adding an extra edge to your thrusts. She was completely limp in your grasp, utterly powerless to resist.

You took a deep breath, one more push, and it happened. A scorching surge of heat flooded deep inside her, reaching depths unknown. You let go of her leg, and it weakly fell, trembling from the force of her own orgasm that pushed your seed out, coating your throbbing cock.

"Ahh... Mm..." Hanni whimpered, her words barely coherent.

You panted, hovering over her with your hands on either side of her head. With a satisfied grin, you slipped two fingers into her gaping mouth, playing with her tongue while your thumb caressed her lower lip.

“Fuck, how the hell am I hard again? Well, I guess we're not going anywhere anytime soon," you scoffed, well aware that she heard you, even though she avoided making eye contact. What she failed to ignore was the growing girth of your cock inside her pussy. The sensation made her legs instinctively close up.

"Yah, Hanni Pham, cheer up. How about I let you ride me next?" you suggested mockingly, not expecting a response.

You were about to switch positions when a double knock on the door interrupted your action. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, choosing to ignore it.

"Hanni? Are you in there? Are you doing okay?" a soft voice called out to the girl you were in the midst of fucking. It had to be Danielle, you thought, and abruptly pulled out of Hanni, causing her to wince.

Danielle's voice should have brought some reassurance to Hanni. However, at that moment, she felt nothing, just pure sadness. She turned her body sideways on the bed, curling up and silently letting her tears flow.

Nothing could change her situation now—it was too late to turn back.

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 7: Striptease

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets turned on while you try on your new designer clothes.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, fingering, ruined orgasm, Bucky speaking Romanian & being obsessed with his wife (yes, those are warnings 👀)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this isn’t a typical striptease but I wasn’t sure what else to call this - it’s more of a sexy try on haul with smut. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“What do you think?” You ask your husband who has perched himself at the end of the luxuriously large king bed in your rented villa.

His nose is in his phone, you suspect checking on business back home even though he promised you he wouldn’t work a single minute while on your honeymoon. But as soon as he looks up, his attention switches solely to you, forgetting all about whatever had been distracting him on the device.

One of the many wedding presents Bucky had given to you was a new closet full of custom designer clothes, including that of a swimsuit collection specifically for your European summer honeymoon.

The way Bucky’s eyes widen, desire and lust mixing like twin flames in his ocean blue eyes, makes you melt.

He’s seen you naked basically every day since you began dating, watched your face contort in pure ecstasy more times than you could possibly count, and yet, even now, more than two years into your relationship, he still looks at you like you’re the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. That there is simply no one else capable of captivating his attention in the way you do.

Bucky stands from the edge of the bed, taking slow steps towards you, his cerulean eyes never once leaving your body - not even blinking.

“Uluitoare [breathtaking].” You are still working on improving your Romanian, but by the astonished tone of his voice and the unwavering gaze settled on your body, you’re fairly sure you understand the sentiment.

“Nuh uh - no touching.” Smirking, you swat his hand away playfully when he reaches out to grasp your waist, performing a slow, alluring twirl to give him the perfect view of every angle. Once his eyes have roamed every inch of your frame, lingering at the shape of your ass and tits in your outfit, you lean forward, standing on your tiptoes, and speak lowly into his ear. “Let me put on a show for you.”

With a steady hand on his strapping chest, you press him backwards, pushing him onto the bed. His complete enthralment in your every movement makes confidence soar in your chest and gives you the courage to begin seductively stripping off your blouse button by button.

Your eyes are locked when the light material falls down your shoulders and onto the floor, a soft moan escapes his throat, his bottom lip curled behind his teeth. Even though you have no music to dance to, your hips sway to a rhythm as you unzip your skirt, making sure to provide Bucky the perfect view of your ass as that piece of clothing also drops to the ground.

In nothing but your expensive lingerie, which Bucky himself picked out, you saunter over to him and elicit a groan when you palm his rock hard cock through the material of his trousers.

“What should I try on for you first?” You ask, teasingly turning around and swaying your hips over the fabric of his pants. His growing erection becomes even more obvious as you start letting your hands wander over your own body, taunting him with the sight of your fingers dipping close to your core.

Bucky’s too caught up in the little show you’re putting on for him to even register the question you’ve asked him, but that doesn’t matter, you already know he’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in the sundress you’ve been eyeing off since the start of the season.

Leaving the confines of his warm body, you sway across the room to the rack of new clothes desperate for you to try on. You can feel Bucky’s eyes piercing through your back as you slip into the new dress, and even hear him swear under his breath when you turn around and show off the complete outfit.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” He comments in such an assured and sincere tone that you could never doubt he truly believes it.

Bucky pulls your body into him, so you stand between his spread legs. His fingers immediately toy with the thin material of your panties at the apex of your thighs, pulling the lingerie swiftly to the side and circles his middle finger lightly over your clit.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The rough pads of his fingers feel delightful against your slick folds, but you ache to feel more of him, to be so full of him you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

As his fingers trace tantalisingly through your core, your own cup his strong, stubbled jaw and tilt his chin up so his piercing eyes meet yours once again. You take a beat to admire just how much adoration fills them when he gazes at you, before closing the small space and slotting your lips against his.

For as long as you live, you will never tire of the feeling of his kiss. Butterflies. Palpitations. Fireworks. Even if it’s just his lips connected with yours, your entire body responds.

“Bucky, please.” You beg into his mouth, needing more than just the teasing pad of his finger against your clit.

He suddenly thrusts two thick fingers all the way inside you, his rough palm flat against your throbbing clit as he quickly begins fucking you hard and fast, curling his fingers to drag over your g-spot.

“Fuck, just like that.” His palm smacks against your clit with each push of his hand, the pleasure so overwhelming, you’re forced to hold onto his tattooed bicep for fear that your legs will give way underneath you.

When Bucky starts sucking on your neck, sure to leave a hickey, and using his other hand to massage your breast over the dress, you know you’re done for.

Your fingers tangle in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck as you can feel your orgasm begin to ignite like a match… before all of a sudden you feel completely empty, clenching around nothing, and your incoming high dissipates like smoke into the atmosphere.

“Show me another piece.” Bucky requests before sucking your sweet arousal from his fingers with lips curling in a cocky smirk.

You’re sure Bucky can detect the disappointment on your features, but he simply squeezes your hips encouragingly, head inclining to the other garments you have yet to try on.

“How about a preview of what I’m gonna wear to dinner tonight.” You purr into his ear before taking a couple of steps back on shaky legs, trying to maintain the confidence in your demeanour that you had in your prior performance and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Your movements aren’t as smooth this time, but Bucky looks just as pleased. At this point you’re fairly sure it isn’t the fact that someone is performing for him that has him so aroused, it’s that you’re the one putting on the show.

The dress you had set aside for later is hanging in a garnet bag on the rack with all the other formal dresses Bucky paid for. Your body moves fluidly as you exchange one dress for the other, teasingly giving him only a sneak peak at your best assets, and stripping off your lingerie panties in the process.

“Wasn’t gonna wear these tonight anyway.” You place the lace in Bucky’s outstretched hand, which he takes eagerly before smelling your sweet arousal on them and stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“We ain’t making it to the restaurant if you’re gonna be dressed like this.” Bucky’s hands travel down your sides, admiring every swell and dip of your figure in the tighter fitting dress. He’s practically drooling at this point. “Especially if you don’t wear any panties.” His fingers find your entrance again and as if he never stopped fingering you, you’re right back where you left off, teetering on the edge of pure bliss when this time he inserts three fingers.

The salacious squelch of each thrust is telling of just how wet you are. You grind down on his hand, hips bucking and twisting to find just that right angle where every single nerve is on fire.

“Be a good girl and cum for me - I know you want to.” That’s all you want, to be his good girl, his perfect wife, and give him everything he asks for, including all your orgasms.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Bucky doesn’t relent, fingering you and simultaneously stimulating your clit until your legs start quivering, you’re screaming his name, arching into his broad chest, tugging on his hair and walls fluttering around his fingers.

He looks up at you while you’re coming down from your high as if you hang the stars and the moon in the night sky - like you’re the sun his whole galaxy revolves around.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” Even though your mind is still catching up to reality, you’ve heard this Romanian saying far too often to forget what it means.

“Și eu te iubesc, James [I love you too].” You respond in an imperfect pronunciation, yet a genuinely affectionate smile blooms on Bucky’s face nonetheless. You can feel his smile grow when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

“As sexy as you look with this dress on…” He starts, fiddling with the straps on your shoulders, trailing gentle kisses down your spine as he lets the soft material of the dress fall to a puddle at your feet. “I prefer you in nothing.”

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[dotster001]

For Tuna; Rook End

A/N: editing this is gonna suck, cause Tumblr is so glitchy today 😭 but as I'm sure no one is surprised...some of you have been waiting a long time for this specific ending, so I figured he deserved his own title . The next ending is a three way tie, so keep an eye out for a poll in the next couple days.

Chapters One Two Three Choose another End

“Rook Hunt, you have been chosen-”

“At last! The moment has come!”

Grim was immediately second guessing his decision. Y/N had told him all about how Rook's family had multiple villas, so he'd thought he'd be willing to put up with him the one day a year he'd have to. But the man was far too excited.

“Wonderful,” Grim said through gritted teeth. “So what we'll do is, tomorrow-”

“You're adorable, Monsieur Fuzzball. No need for that though!”

“Huh?”

“I don't need you. Au revoir!”

Rook practically skipped out of the room, singing a cheery tune to himself.

….

Grim was terrified. All day he'd been waiting for whatever Rook had planned. He'd stuck to your side all day, quivering in anxiety.

“Okay, Grim, what's wrong?” You asked, finally tired of ignoring it for the sake of his pride.

“N- nothing is wrong, human! You insult me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. 

You closed the book you'd been reading during the break in the lesson, and turned to him.

“Okay, so what's not wrong, then?”

Grim mumbled under his breath. But you soon forgot all about it, as the lights in the classroom dimmed, followed by a shower of rose petals raining down on all of you.

“Who is responsible?” Trein bellowed, but he was soon forgotten as well, as Rook appeared at the front under a single spotlight, violin music playing to his entrance.

“Bon jour!”

“What the fuck?” You whispered, quickly realizing that Grim was no longer by your side. He must have taken the opportunity to flee classes. Little rat.

“I am here because I can no longer keep silent about my affections!” He pressed one hand to his heart, the other dramatically extending to the classroom. “I am deeply in love.”

You looked to see if Trein would stop him, but just watched him sigh. Even the teacher knew to just let Rook be Rook. 

“Mon Trickster! My heart beats so hard for you, it is apt to burst into a bloody mess of my adoration.”

There was now a second spotlight on you. You looked around to see where it was coming from, only to find there was no source of it.

A gust of wind picked up around Rook, making the rose petals that had fallen to the floor pick up, and swirl around him.

“Mon Tresor, say that you will allow me to forever kneel at your feet. Say that you will allow me to sing your adoration until my vocal cords tear. Say that I can write you poetry until my fingers fall off. Say-”

“God, Rook! I'd rather have you in one piece,” you cut him off with a laugh.

He stood upright with a light smile, swirling a finger in the air to turn the rose petals into a single rose. He gently kissed it, then tossed it to you across the classroom. You caught it, sniffing it and letting the aroma wash over you.

By the time you looked back up, he was standing right in front of you. You blinked, looking at the spot he was standing, then back at where he stood now. He smiled as though he was unperturbed by your confusion.

“If I stay in one piece, will you pledge your soul to me?” He asked sweetly.

“My soul? Not my heart?”

“For Seven’s sake, tell the boy whether you love him or not, so I can move on with the class,” Trein snapped.

“Okay! Rook, I like you too!” You said quickly.

“How exciting!” He snapped his fingers, and you heard the beginning of an orchestral intro. 

Rook inhaled heavily, and began to sing.

“Goodness, class dismissed!” Trein shouted over the aria, which was not going to stop anytime soon. You gave Trein a pleading look. While you liked Rook, and were totally happy to start seeing him, this song sounded like it would go on for a while. Trein gave you an apologetic look as he shut the door of the classroom, locking it behind him.

....

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[hometoursandotherstuff]

I don't get this 1977 villa in Annivitti, Manziana Italy (part of Rome). The design is just weird. 5bds, 3ba, €470K / $503K. I know, there will those of you who "unironically love it," but at least admit it's weird. Calling it "The Transformer House."

In the huge main room, the fireplace and conversation pit are central and you can see the mezzanine, clear up to the glass rooftop.

That's some fireplace. It looks like you burn logs and stuff on that flat surface and it goes straight up the flue.

Also, sliding doors all around the room open to the yard.

Since it is a mid-century modern home, the kitchen features original cabinetry.

The tower you see on the exterior is for the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, there's the fireplace chimney and I don't know if the little ladder is decorative or if it has a purpose.

Looking down from the mezzanine.

The bedrooms are weird, but meant to be flexible spaces. Those protrusions on the sides of the house are the bedrooms. This one has a wooden platform for the mattress, and a built-in closet.

You can put mattresses on the tiers, too.

Then, at the top is a glass window so you can see down to the property.

This bath is pretty spacious.

The bedrooms offer different options. This one has an air mattress on the floor.

In this one, the mattress is on one of the tiers.

This bath features colorful MCM tile.

Stairs leading to the basement.

Rec room with a fireplace. I don't know what the triangular thing is.

The basement has glass sky lights along the ceiling. The description says "tavern," so it mean mean the bar on the left.

I don't know what this structure is.

Some sort of pyramid outside. Looks like you can go in there?

It appears to be the top of this roof.

Bedroom protruding out the side of the house.

Looks like there's a lot of nice property, approx. 2.47 acres, but according to the description the house needs to be refurbished.

[sprout-fics]

sugar mommy Valeria who’s favorite things are seeing you spoiled in luxury lingerie, and seeing you in an even more expensive collar 🤲

Nearly fell out of my damn chair at this ask I swear Sugar Momma Valeria hits so fucking hard. Have a little striptease for the queen herself.

There’s a certain magic that happens in Valeria’s room after dark. After the business of the day has fled, when the villa is left drifting in the sensual shadows of twilight. It’s only then that you emerge from the car sent for you, a carriage to ferry you to the lantern-lit palace where the lioness of Las Almas waits. She calls for you like a siren’s song, drawing you through the splendidly decorated corridors with their glittering chandeliers and parquet floors. You’re drawn up to the penthouse, and it’s only once your bodyguard clicks the door shut behind you that you’re left alone with her. 

Valeria sprawls openly on an arm chair, one leg crossed over the other, her temple resting against the tips of her fingers as she tilts her head at you. There’s a smirk hidden under her feigned impassiveness, one you want to tug lose and drown yourself in. She’s still dressed in her day clothes, and the short sleeves of her top allow your eyes to trace up the tattoos along her taut bicep. 

Her eyes roam you too, drink you in from the bottom up, from the stiletto heels to your bare legs to the hem of your dress that barely covers the swell of your ass. There’s a rampant hunger in her eyes you can’t shield yourself from, one that makes you shyly shift before her, canting a hip as that gaze flits up to your face. 

“Shy, querida?” She asks, the husk of her voice low, curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe.” You tell her coyly, fingers tangled behind the small of your back as you tilt your head at her in turn, cheekily but subtly mirroring her gesture.

Valeria’s eyebrows raise an inch, that smirk pulling just for a moment at the corner of her mouth. 

“Show me.”

You know exactly what her words mean, and you don’t hesitate to comply. Slowly, seductively, you shrug off the jacket covering you, revealing the thin straps of the dress underneath and the low dip of the neckline that reveals the rise of your breasts. The silver collar sits resting just above your collarbone, catching the hazy lamplight of her room. It’s enough to make Valeria catch her lip between her teeth, eyes glinting and taking in every inch of skin revealed to her. You warm under her gaze, feeling her eyes lick a burning stripe against your flesh, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. 

“The dress too, bonita.” She encourages with a purr. “Show me what’s underneath.”

As if she doesn’t already know. She picked this set out for you herself, had you sort through catalog after catalog of lingerie, measured you herself and caught the tape around your waist to drag you into her sturdy frame. 

The dress pools at your feet, revealing the garters, the panties and the soft netted fabric that drapes from under your bust, fluttering girlishly around your waist. You feel your cheeks burn under her stare, and for a moment you avert your gaze elsewhere in shy embarrassment. 

“Ah-ah.” She tuts instead. “Eyes on me.” 

You follow the command, eyes rising up to meet her unblinking, lurid gaze. 

She raises her hand off her fist then, curls a single finger in your direction as a silent command. 

Come here.

You do, balancing atop your heels as you sway closer, making a point to strut over as you close the distance. It’s only a few moments, but the silence in the room makes it feel like a lifetime before you’re balanced atop her lap, straddling the terror of Las Almas. A pretty, splendid thing in contrast to her brutal violence. 

“I-” She begins, raising a hand to cup your cheek, oddly tender. “-am going to take you apart in this, over and over again until you can’t remember your own name, querida. Understood?”

You shudder in her hold, feel desire burst vibrant against her at the sensuous husk of her promise to you. Her manicured thumb presses down onto the plush bed of your lip, and your flutter your gaze down at her, kittenish but sincere. 

“Yes ma'am."

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Gentleman caller

Sanji x reader. NSFW!!

This fic was inspired by Usopp visiting Kaya at her mansion at night. One Piece of course is not that sort of story, but... what if things were allowed to get a little more spicy?

TAGGING @holymusicalmothman @b7717 @mcereal @aamon47 Thanks for asking!!

*****

"Are you sure you don't want a glass of warm milk before you go to bed, miss?"

"I am sure, Kyla." you answer politely. The truth is you haven't drunk a glass of milk to help you fall asleep since you were ten (that is, almost half your life) but your governess keeps asking, every single night, and every single night you answer no; still, you know she does it out of worry and affection for you, which you sincerely appreciate "I think I'll go now; will you tell my father good-night for me, when he returns?"

Kyla promises she will, and returns to the kitchen to clean up after dinner, while you walk out of the villa's large dining room, cross a long corridor and climb the stairs to the upper floor, finally reaching your bedroom.

Except for Kyla in the kitchen you are alone, since the cook and the gardener, who do not reside in the villa, already left, and your father is as usual busy with a business dinner. You don't feel lonely exactly, since that state of affairs has been going on since your mother died when you were still too young to remember her, but it does feel a little weird to live in such a large place, no less than twelve bedrooms on the first floor alone and at least six other rooms that have been closed for years since you literally don't know how to occupy them, when it's only the two of you... a waste of space, even though you and your father often host parties and receive many guests.

And the most important of those visitors by far is going to arrive soon, a person your father has no idea has already visited so many times before...

You take off your shoes, and spend a few minutes in the en-suite bathroom refreshing yourself before closing the bedroom's door behind you. You sigh, happy and excited, as you let yourself fall on the bed, observing the room you have slept in since you were maybe six and that you will soon leave: the desk cluttered with paper models, scarps of fabric and sewing tools; the two mannequins wearing your latest creations, a green cocktail dress and a simpler but elegant light blue men's shirt; the bookstore full of sewing manuals, fashion catalogs and the biographies of your favourite designers; the large poster on a wall, depicting a famous, elegantly dressed model... and the glass door that, only a few minutes after you have retired to your room, starts being hit by tiny pebbles, picked from the garden below.

Your guest is here. You happily stand from the bed, glance quickly to the full length mirror on the wall to make sure your hair is combed and in order, and reach the glass door to quickly step onto the balcony.

Standing in the garden under you like a suitor ready to serenade you, more handsome than a fairy-tale hero and beaming as if about to see all his dreams come true, is him. The former assistant cook of your family, your best friend in the world, your...

"Sanji!" you call out to him, voice barely rising above a whisper as you wave your hand at him, a greeting he returns in kind, clearly happy to see you, hidden among the trunks of the centuries-old trees; the night is particularly dark, heavy clouds covering the crescent moon and most of the stars, but his smile is brighter than any other source of light.

"Are you alone?" Sanji asks urgently as he glances all around him; no one has reason to visit the garden at this hour and the balcony is oriented towards the back of the villa, far from the main entrance through which your father would come in, but you both know how imperative it is to keep your rendez-vous secrets.

"I am; my dad hasn't returned yet and Kyla is in the kitchen. You can come up."

When you decided you would meet in secret at night, five years ago, you had offered to find a rope for him to climb, but Sanji never needed it. Tonight, as usual, you look on as he nimbly climbs the tree closest to the villa's wall, clinging to the huge trunk and then to the largest branches until he's jumping above the balcony and directly in your arms.

You embrace each other, your profiles standing out against the light filtering from the room, and for a full minute neither feels the need to talk. Sanji's arms hold you close by the waist, his lips pressed against your temple in a chaste kiss; you lose yourself in his scent, the costly perfume you bought for him because you knew he liked but couldn't afford it and and that never fails to make you shiver, as you enjoy the sensation of his slim but strong body pressed against yours.

"Do you have it?" you ask after a while, pulling away just enough to look at him in the eyes; you thought about nothing else for days, more nervous than if it had been your own future career at stake "The answer from the school. Did you receive it?"

"I have."

"... and?!"

Sanji, as usual neatly dressed in one of the dark suits he wears at work, smiles at you, his fingers brushing against your face; a small backpack hangs from his shoulder. "Can we go inside before we talk?" he proposes "I have something for you as well."

Knowing he brought you a treat from the restaurant he works at makes you happy, but nothing beats the simple, pure pleasure of his company. Wordlessly you take his hand to lead him inside, leaving the now empty balcony behind.

*****

Your friendship with Sanji began exactly one decade ago; you were the only daughter of a powerful politician, living alone with him at the villa and whose pathological shyness had left her virtually friendless, him a newly orphaned boy your father had decided to hire as assistant to the cook, so that he could support himself. One afternoon, you visited the kitchen to ask for a snack, since you were starving and dinner was still hours away; the cook told you that he was sorry but your father, already then worried for your weight, had strictly forbidden him from feeding you between meals. You noticed Sanji, busy scrubbing a large pot in the sink, but he seemed so focused on his job you decided not to disturb him to introduce yourself.

You left, disappointed but unwilling to insist, out of respect for both your father and the cook who was just following orders, but a few minutes later, as you studied in the library, he joined you, a nervous smile on his face and a salami sandwich in his hands.

"Please don't tell anyone, especially not your dad." he told you as he put it in your hands "I hope you liked it, I put some mayonnaise on it because I saw the cook used it to prepare your school lunch yesterday."

You did (and still do) like mayonnaise on your sandwiches, and in that moment you were doubly astonished: that he heard your request for a snack even though he had looked so engrossed in the cookware to wash, and that he had decided to risk your father's wrath to help you, less than a week after being hired.

"Thank you, I... thank you so much! That was very kind of you." you told him, for once forgetting your shyness "My name is (name). What's yours?"

"I'm Sanji. And don't worry; I'm sure your dad means well, but no one should starve, especially not at our age. Don't tell anyone, ok? I know he forbade the cook from feeding you snacks, and i'm not supposed to visit the family's wing of the villa without a valid reason."

You obviously kept his secret, and from that day on, you and Sanji quickly became inseparable, spending together all your free time from school and work; he secretly fed you every time your father's concern about your weight made the cook limit your meals, and you used your allowance to buy him cooking books he studied to pursue his dream of becoming a famous chef. Apart from your father, you had never loved anyone like him; Sanji was the other half of your soul, an acerbic but steadfast feeling that made you sure you would never feel alone, as long as he were by your side, and you would not have left him for all the treasures, and the good food, in the world.

Your father, who was happy you had finally made a friend and didn't mind you had chosen the kitchen boy and not one of your school mates, who belonged to the city's most affluent and prominent families, never had anything against it... at least until you were both fourteen, when he suddenly decided it was inappropriate for the two of you to spend so much time together; as a sign of peace, he found Sanji a more prestigious job in a famous restaurant at the other side of the city. That, in your father's opinion, would have meant the end of your friendship, but it obviously didn't: and after all, with all the sandwiches and portions of dessert he had snuck you, hadn't your friendship been based on secrecy since the very beginning?

For five years Sanji has spent with you almost every evening he is free from the restaurant; he climbs the trees next to your balcony and you let him in, and sometimes you spend the whole night talking, or leave together to visit a bar or go dancing. Is it dangerous, should your father discover what you are up to? Undoubtedly so, especially since you know he only worries about you, whether it is about the food you eat or the places you visit in a large and dangerous city; but you are an adult, more than old enough to decide how to live your life, and Sanji is always ready to protect you when someone bothers you in a club, and he would never feed you something that could seriously endanger your health. You don't know why exactly your father has suddenly decided you mustn't be friends with him anymore, but you are determined not to lose him, especially now that your relationship has started evolving beyond mere friendship... and your own dreams risk separating you forever.

*****

"So? What did the school say?" you insist as Sanji closes the glass door behind the two of you; your heart is pounding, wishing with every fiber of your being you could change the decision the commission must have taken days ago "Did you get in?"

For years Sanji has dreamed of attending the most prestigious cooking school in the country, the Baratie Culinary Arts Academy in the capital; this year he has finally reached the required age to enroll, but the entrance examination, that your friend has taken two weeks ago, is notoriously difficult, especially for who, like Sanji, also has to apply for a scholarship. Your friend was meant to receive the results of his exam today, and you had decided you would also share your own secret with him... and then, hopefully, you would both have something to celebrate.

"I'll tell you in a minute."

"Sanji, please... I haven't thought about anything else all day!" you complain, fearing your friend's reticence is due to shame for his failure; Sanji, busy emptying his backpack on your desk, smiles, before rubbing the back of his head.

"The truth is... I haven't opened the letter yet." he admits "I hoped we could do it together... mainly because I don't have the courage to do it by myself."

There is nothing wrong with wanting a friend close when one is both scared and excited for something, but in that moment your heart breaks for Sanji: he has lost his parents, had to take care of himself since he was still a child, and while he has a good job and could try again next year, being refused admission to the Baratie would break his heart.

You wait patiently as Sanji quickly sets the table for the two of you: cutlery, napkins, glasses, a bottle of water and his latest effort in the kitchen: two portions of a delicious chocolate cake, bigger than what your father would allow you to eat but still relatively small, since your friend does care about your health.

"This looks delicious, Sanji!" you exclaim, as always happy to taste your friend's latest creations "But wait..."

You walk to the small fridge next to the door, almost hidden under a pile of scraps of fabric left over from your latest creation and that you will find a use for one day, and retrieve a small but expensive bottle of champagne that you have bought in the afternoon.

"I thought we could use it to celebrate; I have also taken two flutes from the kitchen." you explain.

"I still don't know if I got in, (name)."

"I'm sure you did. And if the chefs at the Baratie can't see, and taste, how extraordinarily talented you are, it's their loss." you point out "You wanna open it?"

A minute later you are sitting face to face at your desk, cake and champagne ready to be enjoyed, the white envelope Sanji took from his backpack in your hands.

"Shall I?" you ask softly; your friend, who has never looked so pale and so young, nods.

"Please."

You both hold your breath as you open the envelope and then unfold the single sheet of paper inside. You make sure Sanji cannot see your face as you read...

"So? What... what does it say?"

"Sanji, I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, God..." your friend, heartbroken, stares at you for a moment before slumping on his chair, face hidden in his hands "I can't believe it... I was so sure..."

"I'm sorry because you have some very difficult years ahead..."

"... what?"

"Of course. Nights spent studying, sharing a room with six other people, waking up extra-early to go to class... Really, I don't envy you..."

Finally you look at him, beaming, while Sanji's eyes grow bigger as he slowly catches the meaning of your words.

"You mean...?"

"You got in! And you got the scholarship as well. Oh, Sanji, I'm so proud of you! I knew you could do it!"

You stand and embrace, laughing with shared delight. "I can't believe it." Sanji murmurs, still as he looks at the admission letter, signed by Zeff, a famous chef who is the Baratie's headmaster "There were so many people at the exam, and at one point I was so nervous I spilled a bowl of vinaigrette on my apron..."

"As I said, an important school like the Baratie, with so many experienced chefs, couldn't not recognize your talent." you point out, happier than you remember ever being "Classes start in a month, you'll have to give your notice at the restaurant."

"Yeah..."

Sanji takes your hands in his, kissing them devotedly. "I could have never done it without you." he murmurs, with the sort of gaze and inflection that, years after your first kiss, still makes you shiver "All the books you have bought me... and it was you who convinced me to apply. I owe you so much, (name)."

"You would have done the same for me; and we both know the two of us are beyond this sort of talk. I am so happy for you, truly; I know you will become a great chef."

Sanji smiles, circling your waist with his arm as he uses his free hand to pick one of the flutes from the desk. "Shall we celebrate, then?"

"Actually..."

"Actually?"

"Actually, I also have something to tell you." you admit, a new, excited smile opening on your face "You know that important fashion school in the capital, the one many of my favourite designers attended?"

Fashion has always been your greatest passion; you have designed clothes since you were a child, and thanks to a family friend who owns a large tailor shop you have learnt the basics of the trade, how to cut fabric, sew and tailor an item of clothing. Your father, who approves of your interests, has offered to introduce you to some fashion designers his friends or associates are acquainted to, but you are determined to accept no recommendations and take no shortcuts; just like Sanji, and any person who has to work hard to realize their dreams, you will pursue your education, earn an apprenticeship at a fashion house, and in time, hopefully, open your own and make a name for yourself as a designer. It will take you years and fashion is a famously difficult field to break into, but you are determined to give your all, so that whatever the future may bring you will be free from regret, and live doing what you love.

"Of course; the Nefertari Vivi Fashion Institute." Sanji promptly answers; miss Vivi is one of your idols, a ground-breaking designer who has revolutionized the fashion world and then focused on teaching, establishing one of the best-reputed educational institutions of the field "So what?"

You smile, still excited almost a week after receiving your own letter, that you asked your father to open for you.

Sanji gapes. "You are kidding."

"I am not!"

Your friend laughs. "And you didn't tell me anything!" he exclaims, and you apologize, telling him you didn't want to disappoint both of them in the not unlikely event you were not admitted.

"But you were?"

You still can't believe it yourself. "I was! There was no exam; I only had to send miss Vivi some of my creations, and a few days ago I received the acceptance letter."

"(name), that's amazing!"

"I know! I can't wait to begin. I also apply for a scholarship, but unfortunately I didn't get it."

Sanji asks whether you plan on asking your father to pay for your classes, but you shake your head: you need to learn to take care of yourself, living alone once you'll move to the capital and earning money to support yourself. To this end, you have contacted a friend who lives in the capital and owns a bookstore: she has accepted to hire you, and you have sold your jewels to pay your tuition fees.

"(name), you didn't!" Sanji exclaims, flabbergasted "Those were your mom's things..."

"I know." you sigh, still feeling saddened and a bit guilty even though you know you did the right thing "But this is my future we are talking about, the opportunity to build a career, and a life for myself, without my father taking care of me or using my family's money to buy whatever I need or want. I want to earn my keep, Sanji; I want to prove I can take care of myself, and that I am more than a spoiled little girl."

Sanji softly points out that no one who knows you could ever think that; he smiles, his handsome face expressing a joy too great and deep for words, as he takes you in his arms once more. "So we are both moving to the capital to study." he mentions "And pursue our dreams. Which means we'll both be very busy..."

"... but we won't have to hide our relationship anymore." you happily finish for him, having already reflected on the matter; you plan on living in a student residence, since their rooms are cheaper than other types of accommodation, and guests are usually not admitted, but at least you will be able to meet in the open, having dates like any other couple instead of having to hide like a married man with his mistress, lest your father learns about your relationship "I can't wait! In a month we'll both be living in the capital, studying with the best in our fields, and nothing will stop us from being together. I... I don't think I've ever been so happy!"

"Me neither." Sanji agrees, one of the flutes in his hand once more "Shall we drink to our future? And then enjoy the cake?"

You agree, but you barely have had the time to clink your glasses together when a sudden noise reaches your ears: an unexpected, but otherwise innocuous noise, at least for who, unlike the two of you, has nothing to hide...

A soft but firm knocking on the door.

Sanji looks at you, suddenly tense; you turn your eyes to the door, wishing to be able to see beyond it. "Yes?"

"(name), it's dad. May I come in?"

The flute almost slips from Sanji's fingers; terrified as if a whole army were standing at the other side of the door, ready to barge in and tear both to pieces, you both nonetheless act quickly, having prepared for such an occurrence since your first nocturnal meeting. Your friend quickly retrieves the flutes and the champagne bottle, while you do the same with the cake plates and the other things placed on your desk; a moment later, Sanji has slipped under your bed, a dusty and uncomfortable hiding spot where nonetheless he'll be safe from your father.

I hope.

"(name)? Is everything all right?"

"Just a moment, dad! I'm coming!" you answer, hoping you sound less nervous, almost terrified, than you feel; you quickly glance all around you, making sure no trace of Sanji's presence is visible, and finally go open the door.

"Hello, dad. How was dinner?" you ask, approaching to kiss him on the cheek; even though he interrupted you and Sanji, you're happy he came to say good-night to you before retiring to his own bedroom.

"Pretty good, even though the lemon cake was not up the restaurant's usual standard. Are you ok?"

"Yes, of course; I was... preparing to go to bed." you answer vaguely, before something in your peripheral vision makes you tense; it is Sanji's backpack, placed where your friend had left it less than half an hour ago: on the bed, perfectly visible.

Shit. SHIT. Shitshitshitshit...

You move a step to the right, so as to prevent your father from noticing the backpack; it is not as compromising as if he had found Sanji's tie, or his shoes, but he could notice the backpack is a men's model, and inside he could find your friend's personal documents, five years after he had forbidden you from having further contact with him. Don't look at it. Don't see it. Please please please...!

Thank God your father, a clever and perceptive man, seems unconcerned with out-of-place objects in your room. "I was thinking tomorrow we could go buy a new suitcase for you; you need a large one, since you'll have to bring most of your things when you'll move to the capital. I hope you'll allow me to pay for that at least."

You smile, grateful for the offer and even more for the intention. "Of course, dad. Thank you."

He smiles, taking your hands in his. "I am so proud of you." he murmurs "I have always known you had a great talent for fashion, but being admitted to such a prestigious school... You'll become the greatest designer of your generation, I'm sure."

"Dad..."

"Please, let me be happy for you. You know I'm always there if you need something, right? I know you have found a job, and you are smart and mature enough to take care of yourself, but if you ever need money, or you want to come home, you can do it; no judgement. Oh, I wish your mom could see you..."

You bite your lip, suddenly unable to talk; a lump of emotion blocks your throat. You are happy, and grateful, that your father supports your desire to move to the capital and attend the Nefertari Institute, especially since he's so protective and you know he wished you would one day follow his footsteps and go into politics, and while you can't wait to start your classes and enjoy life in a big city, the thought of leaving him, and the house where you were born, fills you with sadness... and guilt.

"I... I will never thank you enough for everything you have done for me." you murmur, stepping closer to him to hug your father "And I'm sorry if... if I ever made it hard for you, especially after mom died. I love you very much, dad. I'll be back often to visit, I promise; and I'll miss you so much."

"I'll miss you too, my darling girl." your father answers; he's moved as well, but better than you at hiding it "But I'm so proud you're beginning your life in the world. And I hope you'll let me visit you as well."

"Of course! Every time you can."

"Good. Now, we should both go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He kisses you on the forehead, and soon after he's closing the room's door behind him. You are still staring at it when, a minute later, Sanji joins you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

"Are you all right?" he asks softly; he has known you long enough to perceive what you are feeling, the love for your father and the guilt for the relationship you are carrying out behind his back, the efforts you are making to build a life for yourself away from his protective but constrictive influence and the way you'll miss him terribly and feel guilty for leaving as soon as you could.

"Yeah, just... I was just thinking."

You sigh, turning to face Sanji, desperately trying to return to the carefree joy of five minutes ago, and drive away the melancholia filling your heart. After all, it is normal for children to find their way in life away from their family, and your father is still young, dedicated to his job and career, and has many friends and a new partner he is very close to; he'll be all right, and whatever loneliness and melancholy he will feel, you know he will accept it.

"Your father is a good man." Sanji points out as you both retrieve your drinks and plates from the wardrobe you had hidden them in "He didn't even know me, but he gave me a job when I was alone in the world, and then he found me an even more prestigious one at the restaurant; every berry I ever earned I owe it to him. I'll never forget all the help he gave me."

You smile, happy to hear your friend talk well about your father. "You still have a good opinion of him even if he forbade us from being friends?"

"Well, I shouldn't resent him for that, since we never stopped seeing each other. And he only wanted to protect you, which I can understand."

You blink. "... sorry? What are you talking about?"

"Right, I... I never told you, did I?"

Sanji rubs the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. "You never wondered why your dad was suddenly against us being friends?"

You had. "Well... I thought it was because we weren't children anymore... and you a boy and I a girl..."

"Exactly, but... there was something else. When I was fourteen, I... I wrote you a letter; there was something important I needed to tell you, but I couldn't find the courage to do it in person. I left it on your pillow one day while you were in school, but your father found it... and read it."

You wait for Sanji to elaborate, but he seems focused on staring at the floor, avoiding your gaze. "It was... something inappropriate for a father to read...?"

"Nothing vulgar, if that is what you are wondering; but... it did say I wanted us to be more than friends, and this is what your father opposed, not that I was an orphan without money and prospectives, but because he thought you were too young for that sort of relationship. So... so he asked me to leave things between us as they were, and when I refused, he decided it was better to separate us, and he found me a job at the other side of town, forbidding me from contacting you again, at least until you were of age."

He looks at you, tense since he has no idea how you could react, but the truth is you don't know either. "He sent you away because he didn't want us to date?" you recapitulate in the end, flabbergasted "What would have been so wrong about that? Lots of girls get a boyfriend at fourteen, and he knew you, he knew you would treat me well..."

"Well, he's always been protective of you. Sorry, maybe I should have told you before..."

"It's ok." you reassure him, even though you are not completely sure of it yourself; you understand your father's reasons, and appreciate he didn't simply kick Sanji out in the street, but at the same time you can't believe all of it was to stop your best friend, a boy he knew posed no danger, from confessing his feelings "I... I'm so sorry, Sanji..."

"Well, it wasn't so bad; and as I said, I really don't have a reason to complain, since we did end up becoming more than friends. I felt guilty lying to your dad... but I couldn't give up on you."

He smiles, as he picks one of the flutes up from your desk again. "Now, can we please have a toast to our future?"

You do, happily enjoying your late-night snack; you delicately clink your glasses together before taking a sip, and then feed each other cake, your knees touching under the desk.

Silence has fallen on the room, and on the two of you, as usual when you are with Sanji a comfortable, peaceful silence that you don't feel the need to fill with small talk; you smile at each other, both happy and excited at the future opening in front of you... a future that you will face together as you have always done, finding strength and support in each other.

"Does chef Zeff teaches any class at the Baratie?" you ask after a while; you know the extent of Sanji's admiration for the principal of the cooking school, and it would be amazing for him to learn personally from his idol.

"Not for first-year students; but I heard that he sometimes gives one-on-one classes, if he finds a particularly talented pupil."

"... which means he'll leave all his other classes to tutor you exclusively, as soon as he tastes your True Bluefin sauté... or your salami sandwich."

Sanji smiles; he knows how much faith you have in his cooking abilities, and he never stops being grateful for it. "You're exagerrating."

"I'm not." you very seriously protest, as you clean your dish from any crumble of cake; you know watching your diet means taking care of your health, but you would happily eat three more! "A month and he'll let you skip a year or two, I promise."

"Well, if you are so sure..."

A few minutes later Sanji is putting the dirty plates and cutlery away in his backpack, while you observe the sky out of the glass door, leaning with one shoulder against the wall.

"Once we both live in the capital we won't have to hide anymore, but we'll be so busy with school..." you consider "I'm afraid we won't have a lot of time to spend together."

"Still, it will be an improvement from what we have now. And all the city's school dormitories are in the same campus, which means we can visit each other every time we want."

You nod, still pensive, and a moment later Sanji's arms are circling your waist, his chest pressed against your back.

"It's going to be all right." he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear in a way that makes you shiver in such a pleasant way "We are going to be all right, I promise, no matter how busy we are."

"Oh, I know; believe me, I'm not doubting my feelings, or yours. We have waited for so long to be able to live our relationship in the open, and I can't wait to be able to see you every day, even for five minutes between classes or to cram together at night. It's just..."

You turn in his embrace, almost apologetic as you smile at him. "I feel so happy, as if all my dreams were coming true: attending a great school, not having to hide what we share. It is almost too good to be true; and I'm almost afraid to wake up and find out it really was just a dream."

Sanji is too kind to make fun of your fears; he considers them as he holds you close, equally aware that no matter how steadfast your feelings for each other are and even though both of you have rightfully earned admission in the schools of your dreams, you are both beginning a new chapter in life, and neither knows what future may have in store for you.

Still, it is pointless to worry about tomorrow, and Sanji decides that more than reassure you, he wants to make you forget your fears, even if just for a minute. "You know what I'm thinking about?" he asks after a minute, his tone pensive "That I've been here for at least thirty minutes, and I haven't kissed, or been kissed by, you, even once."

"Ah, that won't do."

"It really won't. So..."

He grins, happy to see you smile as well, and when he lifts your chin with his fingers you obediently close your eyes and offer him your mouth to kiss.

Almost three years have passed since your first time, in this very room, and kissing Sanji still makes your heart tremble; he is sweet but passionate, not aggressive but intense enough to leave no doubt about his feelings, and his intentions. You enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours for a moment before kissing him back, Sanji's lips hot against yours; you feel him smile, his hands now holding you by the waist while yours gently caress his hair and neck.

"Gods, you taste so good..."

"It's the cake, Sanji."

"No, it's not. You are delicious, (name); absolutely... mesmerizing..."

You keep kissing for a while, as your hands start moving on each other's body; Sanji whispers your name, suddenly breathless, as your mouth descends towards his neck, at first gently pecking at the delicate skin of his throat, and then sucking hard enough to make him moan.

"(name)..." he murmurs again, and you smile, circling his hips with your arms; you nuzzle at his chest, the soft fabric of his shirt so familiar and comforting against your skin, and wish you could stay like this forever.

You feel Sanji's hands move on your hips and back, his fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt.

"I like this one." he murmurs in your ear; he is aware of the effect he has on you and exploits it mercilessly "Is it new?"

"Made it myself." you answer proudly; you had seen the skirt on a fashion magazine, and rather than buying it you had decided to see whether you could recreate it "Does it look good on me?"

"You look absolutely ravishing, my darling..."

And ravish is exactly what Sanji seems intent on doing; a minute later your back is pressed against the wall, with a very handsome, very amorous young chef intent on making you forget your very name.

Sanji's back and shoulder muscles are taut under your hands as they run all over his body, like a beautiful clay statue molded by your touch; you can feel his heart pounding against your chest, the tenseness in his body as he tries to restrain himself in order not to unsettle you, not to take more than what you would be ready to offer. Dear Sanji, you think fondly as you arch your back to press your chest against his and finally, finally feel his hands grab at your buttocks, don't you know at this point you don't even have to ask?

Sanji's jacket is the first item of clothing to go, falling on the closest chair after you helped him take it off; he returns the courtesy freeing you from the heavy sweater you wear, leaving you with a tight camisole, the different colour of your bra visible under it. He smiles, clearly appreciating the view, but a moment later his expression turns serious, almost reverent, as he gazes at you, almost as if he couldn't believe he's really holding you in his arms.

"I love you so much, you know that?" he murmurs, and no matter how many times he has already uttered those words, you know how deeply he means them, how utterly and hopelessly devoted he is to you and to what you hope to build together. To be the object of such an intense ardor is... humbling, since you're not quite sure you deserve it, and you could even feel guilty for it, if your feelings for Sanji were not equally deep and strong. You don't remember a day in which you didn't love him, ever since he risked your father's ire (and, consequently, the job he had just gotten) to feed you, there has always been a special place for him in your heart, a place no one else could ever occupy; Sanji is the other half of you, someone who you don't need in order to live but who you want to share your life with. Without him you could go on; but you know you'll never feel complete ever again.

And to express everything you feel -all the love, the joy that fills your heart when he's by your side and the hopes you cherish for your future together- you are unable to say more than...

"I love you too, Sanji."

... and that is more than a little frustrating.

You know what you share goes beyond physical attraction, but you can't deny it is flattering, and exciting, to know you can have that sort of effect on Sanji, a man attractive and charming enough he would have no troubles attracting a date; you sometimes think about the girls he meets at work, or the clients he could easily flirt with when he has to cover for a waiter at the restaurant, but you know he is being sincere when he swears you're the only one he cares about, and that he has never betrayed your trust. On the other hand, you are not good with words and Sanji doesn't care for expensive gifts, which makes you fear, sometimes, you could do more to prove how much you care for him, and how committed you are to your relationship; the truth is, you love him so much, a feeling deeper and more encompassing than anything you thought you would be able to feel, that you lack the words to express it, and any declaration, no matter how grandiose or romantic, would fall short of your actual feelings.

Then, you suddenly realize, maybe you shouldn't tell him; after all, like your father always says, actions do speak louder than words...

Sanji's stares, eyes wide open, as he sees you take off your camisole. A moment later, he hurries to unbutton your shirt, and you move to help him, and somehow, maybe because you're in a hurry or because your hands are shaking, you tear off a button.

"Oh, Gods..." you stutter, embarrassment filling you "I'm so sorry, I... I'll sew it back on, I promise..."

Sanji shakes his head, as if to say you needn't worry; he is a sight to behold, short of breath, his usually pale complexion turned pink with excitement - with lust. He looks at you, he looks at your hands still holding the two panels of his shirt, and orders:

"Tear it off."

"... what?"

"Rip it off me. (name), please, I want you to undress me."

"Are... are you sure?" you ask again; the idea is more than a little exciting, but the experienced seamstress and future fashion designer in you hesitates at the thought of ruining a perfectly serviceable item of clothing.

Sanji grins, desire and affection filling his brown eyes. "Yeah, sure; it's an old one. Please, darling..."

"As you wish..."

A sound of tearing and ripping fills the room, and a moment later Sanji's shirt, now missing every single of its buttons and irreparably damaged, lies on the floor, while he's naked from the waist up - and Gods, just looking at him is enough to make you forget any hesitancy you may have... including the ones regarding the presence of your father, in his bedroom at the other hand of the corridor.

He smiles, more than aware of the effect he's having on you, as he shamelessly stares back at your body. "Come here, my beauty." he invites you, and a moment later he has taken you in his arms once again, your hands moving on each other's newly exposed skin.

"Let's move to the bed." you propose in a whisper between kisses, and laugh softly as Sanji hurriedly picks you up, bridal style, to carry you and delicately lay you down on the light blue sheets of your bed. A minute to take off your shoes, and he has joined you; you are kissing again as he makes quick work of your bra's clasp, but Sanji stops to admire you, lying under him, and for a moment he seems unable to speak.

"You are so beautiful." he murmurs; he looks you in the eyes, to gauge your reaction and make sure he's not overstepping, before letting his hand brush against and then close around your breast "My (name)... I've waited for this moment since I was maybe twelve, you know?"

"You could have told me before."

"A gentleman never asks, he waits for the lady to offer."

You smile, shamelessly enjoying the sensuality of his touch, the delicious sensation of Sanji's warm hands caressing and stimulating and gently squeezing the warm flesh of your chest; he sees you jolt when the pad of his thumb finds your nipple, and smiles, and you smile with him.

"Well, this lady is offering." you point out a moment later; you want there to be no doubt or ambiguity about what you want "I want you, Sanji. Will you make love to me?"

Unexpectedly, and while you can see the desire in his eyes as he looks at you, he hesitates. "You know we don't have to do it." he softly points out "You don't... owe me anything; I don't want you to think this is something we need to do in order to make our relationship last, or since we have been together for a while..."

"I know. I... I just want to live this with you; I want you to be my first, as well the last. I want you, and I'm tired of hiding it."

"(name), I..."

"Sanji, please."

That last word, as well as the tone you utter it in, being begged to take you in his arms and make you scream, would make even the most dispassionate man forget himself, and Sanji is far from that. In a whisper, he asks you to lift your hips, and takes both your skirt and panties off; he licks his lips as he looks at you, as if anticipating what he is going to do to you, and delicately lifts your foot in his hands. His first kiss is placed on your ankle, and then the second at the bottom at your calf, and the third a bit above it, and then on your knee and on your thigh until Sanji is lying on the bed between your open legs, and the sensation of his tongue and hips doing magic on the most hidden part of you is so delicious, so lurid and at the same time heavenly, you have to press your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from screaming. You can feel the wave mounting inside you, and you couldn't stop it even if you wanted to, and a minute later your first real orgasm hits you, and you are shaking in Sanji's grasp as he licks you like a man starved, proud and excited by the pleasure he was able to give you.

Your eyes meet above your heaving chest; you are both smiling, breathless. "That was... amazing." you whisper, and Sanji grins as he reaches to kiss you once more, neither bothering about the taste.

"We have just started." he assures you "Will you help me with my clothes, darling?"

He stands from the bed to let you take his trousers off, smiling softly as he sees how your hands shake; a moment later he's finally naked, and you can't help gulping as you gently take his erection in your hand, heavy and hard. You swallow, and instinctively lower your face to it to lick the tip.

Sanji jumps. "Shit..."

"I'm sorry, I thought... that was ok..." you stammer, suddenly alarmed "Did I hurt you?"

"Hurt?" he repeats, completely breathless, as if he had never heard that word before "Quite... quite the opposite. I... (name), I..."

He can't find the words to describe what he wants, but thank God you know it already, and this is miles beyond what you had already experience in, but you must be naturally talented, or perhaps this is one of those things you simply know how to do. You keep Sanji's eyes in yours as you take his erection in your mouth, swallowing it almost to the base and using your lips, your tongue and even (cautiously) your teeth to give him pleasure; he moans, bucking his hips, his hands caressing your hair.

"God... you're so good, baby... you take me so well..."

Emboldened, you wish you could make him climax with your mouth, but Sanji asks you to stop after a while, smiling as he sees you pout. "As much as I love the feeling of your mouth, there is somewhere else I'd rather come." he tell you as he cleans your lips with his fingers "Let me take care of you."

A silent nod is the only answer you feel able to give, and the only one Sanji needed; your hand guides him back on the bed where, a slight and natural awkwardness covered by your kisses, Sanji lies above you, gently caressing your hair as he lifts your leg above his hips.

"I love you." you murmur; you feel barely able to breathe, but those words easily leave your lips, as natural as a breath "Sanji, let me be with you forever."

He smiles, pressing his forehead to yours; he isn't inside you yet, but the intimacy of that moment goes beyond what you could describe in words, the marvelous feeling of being one, a closeness born from love and passion and trust and empathy. You doubt you will ever feel anyone as close as Sanji is in that moment, and that makes you happy.

"Nothing and no one will ever come between us." he murmurs "I promise."

*****

You spend what feels like hours locked in an embrace, exchanging lazy but hot kisses as your hands explore each other's body. Your fondling makes Sanji grow turgid once more, and he has to use your pillow to suffocate his screaming (yes, screaming) as you do get to make him come in your mouth; he gets even a minute later when you both find out that you really enjoy your chest being sucked, which Sanji does until you are a moaning mess, begging for mercy, and he has to gift you your third orgasm, this time using his fingers, to make you calm down.

This night is perfect; this night feels as if it would never end. Unfortunately, this is not the case, and an hour before dawn, after he risked for the second time to fall asleep with his cheek pressed against your chest and your fingers in his hair, Sanji reluctantly abandons the warmth of your bed, and of your body, to get dressed. You both know it can't be helped; if your father discovered him in your bed, even now that you are an adult and about to go live on your own, the consequences would be catastrophic.

"Things will be different once we have moved to the capital." you reassure him as you pick up what is left of his shirt to throw it away "I want my dad to visit, but we can tell him we met again on campus and decided to date; he does like you, and he'll accept I am old enough to have a boyfriend."

"I hope he will." Sanji considers, as he ties his shoes; he hesitates for a moment, and then: "What if I wanted to tell him the truth?"

"You mean...?"

"About us, yes. I could have never given up on you, (name), but I didn't like lying to your father; I owe him so much, and I'd like give his blessing to our relationship. Don't you?"

Nothing would make you happier, even though, you must admit, the prospect of having to confess you have deliberately disobeyed him for five years is not pleasant; you love your father, and the last thing you have ever wanted was to disappoint him, even though there is no price you wouldn't have paid if it meant being with Sanji. You admire the fact your boyfriend wants to be honest with his benefactor, and you need - no, you want to be as brave as he is.

"Then we will tell him."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. It's not going to be pretty, and I know he'll be very angry, but he deserves the truth. We all do." you point out with a sigh; then, seeing Sanji is almost done getting dressed: "Wait..."

You stand as well, and walk to the mannequin wearing the men's shirt, an elegant light blue model with white collar and cuffs. You return to Sanji to offer him the shirt. "Here, wear this."

"... are you sure?"

"Of course, I had planned to give it to you to celebrate your admission to the Baratie. Try it on, let me see how it looks on you."

It looks great, even though it is perhaps more because of Sanji's good looks and physique than anything else; he carefully buttons it, and happily looks at himself in the full-length mirror. "My favourite tie will go perfectly with this."

"I know, why do you think I chose this colour?"

Naked as you are, you don't feel cold, especially as you feel Sanji's gaze lingering on your body as his brown eyes admire the flesh he has lost himself in just two hours ago, but that he's not yet sated by.

Soon, your smile tells him as you return the gaze, committing the beauty of his lithe but strong body to memory, as soon as we have moved to our dormitories, or as soon as my father has to leave for one of his work trips. I want you again too; I think I'll never stop wanting you.

As usual Sanji seems to understand you without the need for words, because he smiles once more and, as soon as he is done admiring himself in the mirror (which you cannot blame him for; the shirt does look amazing on him!) he takes your face in his hands to kiss you once more. "I am so happy." he murmurs "Happy we got to share this moment. I... I do want to be with you forever, but..."

"... but you are happy I was your first, and you mine. I know, Sanji; I feel the same."

You spend a precious minute like this, your foreheads touching, your fingers intertwined, as you breathe in each other's air and savour that new form of intimacy. In this moment, you are not afraid Sanji can doubt your feelings anymore; but in any case, you promise yourself, you'll still make sure he knows how much you love him, every day from now to eternity.

In the end, it's time for your boyfriend to go. He takes his backpack and insists you put your nightgown on, in case one of the neighbours looks out of their windows, before you accompany him on the balcony, where a last kiss sees him climb over the parapet and cautiously reach the tree's closest branches.

"Thanks for the cake! It was really delicious."

Sanji winks at you, mischievousness dancing in his eyes. "I think you thanked me enough already."

"Oh, you are so vulgar..."

Your laugh follows him as Sanji quickly climbs down the tree, finally reaching the ground safe and sound; he looks up at you and waves, and you wave back, and "I'll be back soon; I promise." he says, and you nod as he starts walking away, and remain where you are until Sanji has disappeared, hidden in the murmuring darkness surrounding the villa.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: little things the ikevamp suitors love about you.

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: this is kinda to get me back in the writing groove again. i thought this was really cute as i was writing it hehe

napoleon adores your voice, the sweet sound of it carrying in the wind as you cheer him on when he spars. your voice goes higher when you talk to jupiter and lower when you talk to the kids he teaches, and although he’ll never tell you he notices these things, it’ll be evident when you look over at the teasing smirk on his face.

mozart adores the contrast between your klutziness and your grace, he’s caught you swaying to his music when you clean before, now that you two often find yourself sharing the same space. his eyes wander to you as he plays under the guise of making sure you don't slip on the sleek floors and injure yourself...but really, he is enraptured by you.

leonardo adores your lips, even more so when they’re on his own. ever the flirt, he makes sure your lips are always turned upwards in a bashful smile, the one that makes the corners of your eyes crinkle and your cheeks warm up. he touches your cheeks, brushing his fingers along your skin before kissing you, leaving you both smiling.

arthur adores your eyes, the way they’re always trained on him, the way he can see himself reflected in yours and just knows you see yourself in his. he loves how soft they look as they gaze upon him, a hopeless man, a sinner, a weak and helpless person that couldn’t save the ones he wanted to save most. you can still look at him, and that's all he could ever ask from you.

isaac adores your neck and the way it looks when you wear necklaces and different collared shirts and different hairstyles. he finds himself flustered at the thought of pressing his lips to where your neck meets your shoulder, sprinkling the skin with his kisses and dusting it with soft whispers for the both of you to cherish.

vincent adores your smile and the way it makes him happy, too. he loves that you never shy away from your feelings and you aren’t scared of his. you smile when he expresses what he wants, as if him craving and needing and wanting makes you happy, and oh if that’s what it takes to see you beam like you’ll love him forever, vincent will embrace every part of him.

theo loves your arms and how they work hard every day, only to wrap around him at the end of it all. it melts his heart when your head finds itself over his heartbeat, listening to his pulse as you shut your eyes. he’s never felt more weak in the knees in his life. you’ve ruined him, but he doesn’t care just so long as you keep holding him and working hard at his side.

dazai adores your waist and all of the uses it has. he loves kneading the flesh he finds there, making you squeal because those spots may be a bit ticklish. he finds himself placing a hand there as he walks with you, holding you close to his side, just close enough to catch your scent. it’s cheesy when he grabs your waist to lift you into the air, swinging you around in an impromptu dance, but his heart melts with love for you when your hands find themselves over his, keeping him latched onto you.

jean adores how you wake up in the morning, all sleepy and confused. every little noise you make makes his heart skip a beat, and so he captures every single one and places them in the corner of his mind labeled with your name for safekeeping. maybe then, even when you’re gone, he’ll still be able to know you. the heart that pounds so vehemently for you nearly pops out of his chest when you throw an arm over him and snuggle into his chest, a delicate smile on your face.

will adores how you smell when you come out of the shower, all freshened up. the fragrances of all the products you two picked out together waft throughout the villa, and will doesn’t find himself minding that he can smell you everywhere. after all, you’ve left your mark on this place, and furthermore, his heart.

comte adores you for staying by his side, even though he knows it’s hard. he’s been so painfully lonely for most of his life, and even now he doesn’t feel he fits anywhere. but you come along and take him into your arms, gently collecting all of his broken pieces, and you bring him back together with your embrace. this. this is where he belongs. he is certain of it.

sebastian adores your laughter and the way you seem to infect the mansion with it. he hears it ringing in his ears even when you aren’t around, the sweet sound carrying through his memories as he busies himself with chores and thoughts of you. it isn’t easy running an entire mansion, but with you by his side, bumping him with your hip as the two of you wash dishes, he couldn’t be happier.

vlad adores how you love vampires just as much as he loves humans. you have always tried to get him to bridge the gap with comte and trust humans again, and although it's not easy he sees your efforts and he loves you for it. you’re strange for not fearing him, for staying by his side throughout all he has done, but he’s glad for it.

faust adores how you’re so honest. you set boundaries and mean them, you tell people off when they’re encroaching on your space, and you make sure the environment you foster around yourself is as lovely as it can be. it makes him smug, knowing you’re so capable and he’s the one that gets to call you his. 

charles adores your fingertips and the way they map out his body, pressing into his scalp to soothe him and trailing down his back when he wants a hug. you’re always so gentle with him, treating him like he’s precious like he’s loved, and he knows he can never get enough of it. you’re so sweet, indulging him like this. he will never be able to stop loving you.

[worldhistoryfacts]

in Virgil's Aeneid, two fighters -- Dares and Entellus -- face off in a boxing match. Here’s a Roman-era mosaic from the floor of a French villa showing the two fighters, along with the bull that Entellus won and then sacrificed to the gods with a single blow to the skull:

A French artist tried to depict the scene in the 1500s, with much less fidelity to the original description (what’s up with those clubs?):

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Looking Through the Past}

The history of ancient boxing -- and its modern revival -- here:

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 3

~ ch. 1 & ch.2 here ~

content warnings: f! reader, bisexuality, p in v sex, feelings, angst

word count: 7.4k

a/n: thank you all for coming on this ride with me! i am so grateful to have you guys in my life <3

I’ve convinced Matty to take me back to his. Partially because I’m embarrassed to be sleeping on the pull-out couch and partially because I don’t want to go all the way back up the hill to Nina’s. I’ve spent so much time wallowing that I want to jump at the possibility of something as hedonistic as having sex with Matty. It feels like something I’ve earned.

The boys’ villa looks different than I remember it. The hazy afternoon light brightens it and I can see now that it’s decorated quite nicely. It must not be theirs if they’ve been coming here since they were teenagers; it probably belongs to Matty’s family but I see it as a credit to him anyway. I think I’m delusional enough at this point that I’d see anything about him as meritorious.

Matty takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to the second floor, stopping me as soon as I reach the top to push me up against the wall and kiss me. He boxes me in with his arms around my head, creating a space for just us, and petting my hair gently as his mouth explores mine. He feels warm and comfortable and my world goes fuzzy. He smiles against me and pecks at my chin sweetly once he’s had enough of my lips. He pulls me further along the corridor, looking back at me and pressing a finger to his lips.

“Are you not allowed to have girls home?” I tease as he opens the door to his room. He trots over to the window and opens it, letting fresh air into the space. Then he makes his way back to me, pulling me into him by my dress until my lips almost touch his.

“Nah,” he smiles into me, “George usually takes a nap around this time. Don’t wanna wake him if I don’t have to.”

He pushes me back to sit on the foot of the bed, and I immediately start unbuttoning his shirt. I look up at him innocently.

“Does that mean I can’t be loud?” I ask. I mean it earnestly, but the fact that me whining and looking up at him pouting turns him on is a delightful bonus. 

His hand finds my jaw, caressing it sweetly. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to miss a single pretty noise you make.”

I smile and move to stand to get rid of my dress. Matty’s hands find my shoulders and push me back down.

“Lay back,” he says. I shuffle back on the bed until my back meets soft pillows. I look down to the sheets for a moment and I notice they’re littered with blue and green flowers, like something my grandmother would have swooned over in the eighties. They smell like my grandmother, too; that sweet, musky smell of things that have lived a hundred lives already. They’re soft but not quite threadbare beneath my fingertips. I muse at the idea, thinking Matty has probably worn them out over the many, many years he’s been coming here. The sheets contain stories I’ll never know, that I’ll never even think to ask. 

“Is everything okay?” His voice brings me back to reality.

“Yeah, they’re pretty s’all.”

“The sheets?”

“Yeah, but not as pretty as you,” I sigh as I catch his earlobe in my mouth. He gasps as I do, “You gonna undress me? Or are you all talk?”

“Fuck me,” Matty mutters under his breath, his hands find the hem of my dress and push it over my head, skimming my sides as he does. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake, tickling me slightly, setting my nerves on fire. 

My bra and underwear are still slightly damp from our dip in the lake. Matty kneels between my legs immediately, kissing the space between my breasts, the outline of my ribcage that dips down into my soft belly. He spreads his hands over my torso, holding my middle to his mouth so I can’t escape his worship. 

I grab onto his hair and hold tight to him as he kisses his way further down. He looks up at me, panting, through dark lashes before he touches the waistband of my panties. My mouth is open, gasping for breath, as I nod to him eagerly. I plant my feet on the soft bed and lift my hips to help Matty as he removes my underwear. He’s greeted by dark, thick hair and wetness.

He looks at me for a moment, taking me in.

“I didn’t expect this, either,” I say, blushing. He leans down and presses a kiss to my inner thigh.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers into the skin there. He crawls back on top of me and reaches around to my back to take my bra off. I arch my back to help guide it off and Matty looks as if he could bust right then and there, knelt on the bed and completely clothed.

After a second more of dumbness, he asks, “Do you know how pretty you are?”

My hands come to cover my face. It's too much, too romantic. And what's more, the answer is no; I don’t know how pretty I am. I’m wise enough to know that, when I look in the mirror, the image that makes it to my brain is distorted. I could be looking at a supermodel, but if I knew her reflection belonged to me, I would despise it. I don’t know why after so many years of learning to love myself, I still fall short, but I do. Each and every time. Besides, it feels like a ridiculous thing for him to say. Matty grabs my wrists, tugging the shelter from my eyes, and brings one hand down to cover my breast, squeezing it.

“Feel yourself,” he whispers in my ear, pinning my other hand above my head. He helps me massage my left breast and I moan involuntarily as he does. “That’s right, baby, feels so good, doesn’t it? So soft and warm. Does it feel good when you touch yourself like this?”

I moan and nod, letting out a barely audible whimper. 

His mouth trails from my ear down to my jaw and neck, “Words, please,” he instructs.

“Yes,” I gasp, “It feels good. I feel good, Matty.”

“Good.” He folds my hand back into his and trails it down my ribs, down into the dark patch of hair that grows between my legs. “Touch yourself for me, baby,” he whines into my chest, “Want you to feel good.” I meet his eyes for a second, apprehensive. He nods at me encouragingly and I smile lazily, resigned to his will. I bring my hand down, lower and lower, gathering some wetness so I can rub my clit. It’s like the treatment for an illness; that little bit of pressure on my bud eases the ache between my legs instantly, allowing the feeling to morph and change into something pleasurable. I trap my clit between two fingers and stroke myself up and down as Matty catches my lips in his again.

“That’s it, you listen so well,” he says, “How does it feel?”

“God,” I buck against my hand, “It feels so good. So wet and warm please I want you to feel.” His hand comes down to cover mine and I sit up on my elbows to watch him, wanting to see his reaction to my body. I hope it pleases him. My mouth hangs open as I keep my eyes on his face. I feel him playing with me and I whine. Matty begins to tease my entrance, barely dipping in, feeling my muscles contract and relax. I watch his face as he finally slides two fingers into me. When he shuts his eyes, I do too, clenching at the feeling. It feels otherworldly; so different from when I touch myself because I can’t anticipate it. I let my hands fall above my head, arching up into his touch and writhing in pleasure, chasing something, and following my body’s instincts of what feels right.

I feel empty all of a sudden. My eyes snap open.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking down at Matty, who’s watching me, mesmerized.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” he acquiesces, moving his hands back onto me, “You’re fucking perfect, I just wanted to watch.” He leans up and kisses me as he strokes my clit side-to-side, building me up and leading me to the edge. 

“Can I please fuck you?” he asks into my mouth. I nod furiously, knocking my teeth against his and smiling bashfully in the wake of my mistake and my eagerness. 

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“That’s alright,” he smiles into my mouth and I inhale it like a drug. I watch him hazily as he gets up onto his knees and moves off the bed, removing his pants and boxers. It’s a reveal that’s come at a time when I can’t fully appreciate it. I'm too dumb with the anticipation and excitement of having sex with someone new to be able to fully take him in, or compare him to anything. I just want him as close to me as he can be. 

He reaches into a drawer somewhere and retrieves a condom, tearing the wrapper and rolling it onto himself. Then he’s kneeling beside me, taking up my whole consciousness. He’s all I can see and think about. And, when he kisses me, it doesn’t feel new, it feels old and known. Like this was supposed to happen in every parallel universe. Like it’s happened before and we’ve found our ways back to each other. He feels like an extension of me, an appendage that’s been missing that I’d just learned to live without.

“You ready?” he mumbles against my lips.

“Yeah.” I chew on my lip slightly as Matty moves over me, spreading my legs to invite him into the space between them. He lines himself up and taps my clit with his cock. It jolts me back to life and my eyes catch his. 

“There you are,” he smiles, beginning to push into me. I close my eyes, bracing myself. 

I can feel him sinking into me, getting deeper with every short thrust, coating himself in me. My ears are ringing and my skin is abuzz. It hurts a little bit, and I’m just about to decide whether I need to speak up when I feel Matty’s lips on my cheek, nuzzling me and asking for attention. I open my eyes to see Matty – the cocky boy I met at a party in my pajamas, whose very nature seemed custom-made to off-put me – hovering above me, his black pupils dilated and vast, lips plump and agape, heaving as though it’s taking everything in him not to fuck me bruisingly.

“You can move,” I say.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes, and wastes no time beginning to move his hips into mine. He rocks into me slowly at first and I try to remember what I’m supposed to focus on. Matty answers for me, taking my hands in his and pinning them above my head as he ramps up the pace, slamming his hips into mine with abandon.

I wrinkle my eyebrows and look into his eyes which bore down into me. I feel watched, lauded, revered even. Matty holds my hips and turns one leg over the other, so I’m lying in a fetal position. Then he leans down and brings his hand to my neck firmly, like a collar. Not enough pressure to even stop the blood rushing to my head. It’s sweet and dominating and ultimately reassuring. His other hand squeezes at the flesh of my ass as he re-enters me, moving faster than last time. I can feel him inside of me literally, in the places he's physically touching, as well as in every pleasurable nerve in my body. Matty forces my body to sing for him; he conducts it like a symphony. 

“Can you go a little faster, please,” I squeak out, and I’m instantly throttled by more pleasure, hot and hard. He moves faster than I thought possible and I can feel my body building to a high, tightening in anticipation.

“I’m gonna cum,” Matty gasps, “Fuck! Where do you want me to cum?”

“On me,” he pulls out a second later, holding his cock in his hand and pumping himself. 

A second later I’m covered in white drops of cum, like confetti or sweat or dew. 

“Fuck!” he pants, rolling over onto his side, “Let me get you a towel sorry I didn’t think.”

He stands and turns around, and it’s the first time I’m fully able to appreciate his nakedness. Taut, firm muscle decorates his back and descends into his ass and legs. I watch each ripple and flex absentmindedly as he grabs a washcloth from the wardrobe in the corner and returns to bed. He looks at me, body a mess of water and salt and cum, and gently wipes it all away. I gulp as he does, watching the methodical way he maneuvers the cloth, folding it each time he captures more of us inside of it. Inside of there is the only proof that we were ever real, I think. Despite the fact that Matty and I have been spending lots of time together recently, we don’t have any photos together. He hasn’t bought me anything I could point to as proof of his affection. When I tell my friends back in New York about him, they will just have to take my word for it. The real us will be scrubbed away on a metal washboard and hung out to line dry in the punishing midday sun. I won’t have someone to reminisce about it with because the only person who experienced it with me will be Matty, and he will be gone. 

I snap myself out of it. It’s typical of me to think about how things end before they’ve even begun. I think that, if I do that, somehow I’ll prepare myself for the hurt and then the reality will have a little less sting. In practice, things hurt whether we are prepared for them or not. Trying to measure whether they hurt less than they could have is a fool’s errand. I only get to experience things once. I’m infinitely limited that way.

Matty throws the rag away and focuses completely on me. I meet his eyes, suddenly unable to say anything. I think he wants me to say it was good or to ask a question or be mad at him or something. I don’t want to, I just want to be in this moment. I want to stretch it out like taffy and make it last forever: Matty panting quietly, blissed out next to me and me, quiet for once in my life with traces of him sticking to my body.

I move my head to his chest, squishing my face into him so he can’t implore me to speak any longer. I smell him and feel his firm muscles that support me from under tender, white skin. I feel my head ebb and flow on the surface of his swelling ribcage, a constant reassurance of some kind.

“Sorry, I kinda forget to breathe during sex,” he chuckles, heaving some more.

“I don’t mind,” I manage.

“Okay.”

I’m scared of the comedown. I’m scared he’ll want me to leave. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing. I’m scared of difficult questions. I just want this. This is comfortable, at least. 

“Do you compare me to her?” he whispers, index finger circling my shoulder blade. I frown.

“Who?” I ask.

“Your ex-girlfriend.” I chuckle a little bit.

“What’s to compare?” It’s a question but I make it sound more like a statement. Or I mean to, anyways.

“I dunno,” he drawls, “like how good I make you feel or somethin’.”

“No,” I answer, “definitely not that.” He sits up against the headboard and kicks the duvet off his legs.

“Other things then?”

“Do you compare your sexual partners to each other?” I ask.

“Not really, I guess,” he mutters. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know. It would last longer with her but that’s just how it is when it’s two girls,” I shuffle myself deeper into him, I want to show him that I want to be close to him. His hand comes up to my hair on instinct. “I don’t mind that you get tired or whatever, it’s just, like, different. I don’t know.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different. Like ‘ooooh’ and ‘aaaah,’ I guess. They both feel good, they're just a little different,” I look up at his face to make sure he believes me. 

“I’m sorry to make you give me the bisexuality crash course,” I smile into the soft skin that covers his pecs, “I suppose it makes me a little self-conscious. Knowing you’ve done all the stuff I do to you.”

“Well not all of it,” I chuckle at him. He swats my shoulder.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he says. I remember her; her hips and her whines. It hurts a lot less than it once did but it’s not quite devoid of any sting. 

“I do kind of wish I could experience it from a boy’s point of view,” I state. I debate whether I’ll tell him what I mean. I wouldn’t want him to see me as masculine or someone who doesn’t want him. My therapist would say that if he does think those things then he’s not right for me, but what if I don’t necessarily want him to be right? It’s not that I want him to be wrong, per se. I just want him to be exactly who he is. And, if who he is hurts me, I’m okay with that, I think. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sure I can handle being hurt. Not because I have some magic tonic to get over it, but because I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it hurting. Other people would hurt me anyway – coworkers, family members – but none of them are Matty. At least if he were to hurt me it would come from him. He would never hit me below the belt or lie to himself about me when I’m gone. In a funny way, that’s comforting. I trust him to hurt me.

“How so?” he prods me.

“Like to actually get to feel a girl on your own… genitals, I guess. Yeah, I mean there’s lots of great ways for women to have sex but there’s always some artificiality to it, I feel. It’s never gonna feel the same for me to fuck a girl as it does for you is what I’m trying to say.”

“What if it’s not supposed to?”

“Oh don’t go all philosophical on me. Wouldn’t you be upset if all of a sudden when you had sex with a girl you couldn’t feel your dick?”

“I suppose it is pretty awesome the way it is,” he concedes, “You can still feel it though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’ll end up hating me,” I bury my face into his shoulder, resenting that I even brought it up. 

“We don’t have to talk about it but I guess what I wanted to say was you can’t go around just wanting what you don’t have or you’ll miss what’s in front of you,” he says, “I know that sounds cheesy but I used to, like, go on tour and spend every minute missing my girlfriend. Even when I was stood in front of 10,000 people who were singing my most intimate thoughts back to me. But we don’t get to choose when and how we’re loved. All we can choose is where to place our own attention. So if I look out at the faces of a bunch of kids who spent their allowances to come and see me sing and I’m thinking about some other shit that I don’t have right now, I’m basically mugging them off. I’m being a dick, like rejecting their love. You can’t have sex with a girl and feel them the same way I can, okay whatever. But that’s not what makes it great anyways –  I mean sure, it’s part of it, but it’s not everything. Deep down you know that. It’s just … life’s not fair.”

I sit up on top of him so now my face hovers above his. “It’s fair enough,” I say, “at least right now it is.”

“I think so, too,” he smiles at me. Then I kiss him.

-

Around noon the next day, I find myself in the city center, food shopping for the villa. The yellow midday light caresses each uneven brick in the street, each metal cafe chair and table. It turns them from something cold and uninviting to something so bright it blinds me. I sit down at one of the local eateries to have a break before committing to the arduous hike back up the hill. I’ve scarcely ordered a glass of wine when I hear an old woman seeking my attention from the table over.

“Ciao, cara!” she addresses me as if she knows me. I figure she must be someone I’ve met before, or at least it’s better to assume that than the alternative.

“Ciao!” I fumble as I switch to a foreign tongue, “Non parlo italiano. Solo inglese.”

“It’s going to rain!” she says, animatedly. 

“Now?” I ask, stunned.

“Later,” she shakes her head, “You will need to go inside soon.”

I tilt my head back, letting the light overtake my field of vision. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to rain. It seems like a perfect summer day.

“Don’t trust the sun,” she barks, drawing my attention back down to Earth, “It will not give you any answers.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” she croons. A waiter brings a glass of white out to my table and I thank him for it. I sip on it, it’s fruity and light. Noncommittal. 

“You will never feel more alone than when you are stuck in the rain,” the woman continues, “I know it too well.”

“I’ve been feeling alone a lot recently. I’m just about used to it,” I try to console her, to show her she doesn’t need to worry about me.

“You will never be used to loneliness!” she gasps, “My husband died a decade ago and I am still lonely. I was with him for twenty-two years! Oh, I have my cats and my girlfriends, but I will always be lonely. One day he was here and then he was not. It’s mourning, it’s never over.”

“I hope that’s not true…”

“Believe it. Once you understand you cannot make it go away, then you can make peace with it,” she huffs, raising her wine glass to her lips, and I wonder how many portions preceded it. She shuffles her chair away from the table and begins to walk away.

“Goodbye, have a good afternoon,” I say, trying to ease the awkwardness that seems to be perceptible to only me.

“Ciao, cara,” she calls, “Believe it!”

I take a sip of my wine that evades categorizing and look up at the sky once more. Dark gray clouds have started to crowd the sunny expanse from the west. I hum to myself and turn the woman’s words over in my mind: You will never be used to loneliness. Believe it. 

-

Moonlight twinkles through the windows of the villa, tinting the warm room with coolness. The girls are out– some party I bailed on to spend time with Matty. I seem to be doing that a lot, lately. I want to be angry with myself for it, but I can’t find the will. I feel good when I’m with him. I’m not encumbered by my own self-perception. It’s like when I’m with him, I’m too preoccupied with him, learning about him, knowing him, to be concerned with what I’m missing out on. When I lie with him, I can’t begin to worry whether my tummy is too big or if my double chin is visible; all I want is to know more about Matty. I want to search his body, taking inventory of the innocuous tattoos that litter his legs, kissing each one with fervor, tasting the sweat that caresses every centimeter of his lush body. I want to know everything about him; I want to squeeze every bit of knowledge out of him until he’s begging me to take a turn answering questions. I want to know him completely.

I don’t know how to like someone a regular amount. I only know how to pine, and fall delusionally in love, and fuck it up. After all, what’s the point of being infatuated if you don’t feel your life is wildly improved with each second you spend with the other person? And if that’s the case, why wouldn’t you sacrifice everything to be in their presence?

Matty is sat up against the pillows in my pull-out bed. My head is in his lap and his hands tickle my scalp lightly. He brought along a record to play but it hasn’t been playing for a solid ten minutes at this point. Flipping it to the B-side would mean removing ourselves from one another, something neither of us is particularly keen on. 

“You don’t want to go out?” Matty speaks aloud, cutting through the comfortable silence we’ve fallen into.

“Not really,” I mumble. I meet his eyes, he doesn’t seem to understand. Probably not in his rockstar nature to stay home, I think.

“I won’t be able to enjoy it anyways,” I continue, “I go home so soon. If I drink, I’ll just start thinking about New York and I won’t be able to enjoy the present.”

“You’re a sad drunk? I thought you were an angry one. If memory serves,” he chuckles, recalling the night I stopped hating him.

“I think I’m just a kind of sad person,” I say, “Not in a bad way. Just I find it hard to live in the moment. I’m either stressing about the future or mourning the past.”

“I get it. It’s kind of fun to be nostalgic.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Why are you stressing about the future?”

“I’m not right now, I guess. Just thinking about you,” I smile up at him.

“Well what stresses you out about the future more generally?” he asks.

I look at him quietly, sitting up in his lap so my head is against his heart. What does stress me out about the future? It’s nothing in in particular, I suppose. It’s more the fact that I know no matter how much I plan, things will go wrong. People will leave me. I’ll never stick the landing quite as intended. Or maybe I will sometimes, but not all the time. There’s no safety net for me anymore. 

“Sometimes I just feel like a little girl who doesn’t have anyone to take care of her anymore,” I whisper. 

There are two sides to every coin. On one side is the reality that, without Claire, I feel freer than I have in a long time. I’m in Italy, doing exactly what I want. When I want to head out in the middle of the day and go to a museum, I don’t have to wait for anyone else to be ready. I don’t have to consider whether she’d like to go home when I’m out in the city. I can pick up a bouquet of flowers at the store without feeling like I should have waited to see if she would buy me some and feeling the resentment sneak in that she hasn’t. I can sprawl out on my pull-out bed and sleep whenever and however long I want. I’m living completely according to my own desires.

On the other side of the coin is the equally true fact that it’s harder to be alone. There’s no one to pick up my slack. No one who’s thought to make me dinner when I stay late at work. There’s no one built in to accompany me on errands that scare me or offer to do them in my place. There’s no one to notice that we’ve run out of paper towels and grab them from the store or pick up the check when I go out to eat. 

I miss the days when my mom would lay my school clothes out for me and make dinner without asking me what I wanted to eat. I miss the fact that my dad went to work every day without complaining and paid the mortgage without mentioning it to me. I could coast. Now I feel I’ll never coast again. The closest I’ll get is having someone to share those burdens with. 

I’m so tired. With miles and miles to go before the finish line, I find myself wondering what the end even is and whether it’s actually worth running towards.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, holding my head to him. 

“No, you won’t,” I tell him, “You have other things – other people – to take care of. There’s a time limit for how long you can take care of me.”

“Let me reach it. Don’t cast me out before the chips fall. Please.”

I look up into his endless brown eyes, filled with earnestness and itinerancy. I don’t know if I can let him. Despite the fact that I desire it so intently, I’m scared to believe that someone could care for me. I’m scared to let my guard down and get used to the help, to the tranquility, the comfortability of someone taking some of my burdens off my shoulders. As of recent, I am intimately aware that everything ends, and getting used to someone’s help only means it will be harder to move on. I’ll have to start flexing muscles that I haven’t used in years, that I don’t even remember how to engage. It’s happened with old friends and mentors. It happened with Claire. My independence and emotional fortitude atrophied due to lack of use. Those things aren’t easy to relearn. They were qualities I fought hard to develop and then cast out as soon as I realized I could get by without them. I consigned them to my partner all too willingly. I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t put myself in that kind of vulnerable position. It hurts too damn much.

The only knowledge that offers a modicum of relief is the fact that I’m not the only person who has gone through this. Every girlfriend my age has been in one of these relationships. We grew up in divorced or toxic households and learned very quickly that the story doesn’t end with ‘happily ever after’. We learned that who we invited into our vicinity and into our homes was of the utmost importance and we treated those decisions with the requisite gravity: denying ourselves suitors and kisses – anything that could distract us from developing our own independence. Then we met someone we wanted to try with and we did everything with them. We made commitments and stuck to them through thick and thin, even when it was hard. And then, one by one, our partners stopped caring. They stopped wanting to figure things out, they started investing the sacrosanct learnings of our relationships into other people. They receded from us continually until we had to declare that there was nothing left there, instead of sparing us the pain of watching them retreat and feeling discarded by the first person we had truly chosen to trust. 

The skills I can gain back but I wonder if the betrayal will hurt forever. It sure seems like it will. Worse than that, it feels like I’ll want her back forever, even though I know she doesn’t want to try with me anymore. When I think of Claire, I still think of comfort and safety even though I also know of her seemingly infinite capacity to hurt me. I care more about being loved than being happy sometimes. My twisted mind thinks that being loveable is more important. It’s some kind of sick validation that I've been seeking all my life: I want to be loved. When I’m being loved seems to be the only time when my mind can truly quiet.

I’m crying, I can’t stop it. It’s a cosmic release I’ve been seeking for months: validation that what I’m experiencing is real and deserved and I’m not just some girl who got too attached like so many girls before her. I release the pain and the guilt. The guilt that I didn’t try hard enough, or treat her well enough. That maybe if I had compromised more – gone to stay with her family at Christmas, and given her more orgasms, and brought her breakfasts in bed – this never would have happened and I’d be contentedly walking under some scaffolding on 5th Avenue while acrid steam rises from the street with Claire’s hand in mine. I don’t want it anymore, I realize. For the first time ever, I don’t want her hand in mine. I want Matty’s.

I take his hand in mine and move to sit in his lap, one knee on each side of his body. As tears spill from the corners of my eyes, I lean to meet Matty’s mouth in a kiss, hungry and desperate. His hands find my face, frantically wiping the wetness from my cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” he asks me. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I insist as more tears fall. I rise to my knees and let my hands fall to the button of his jeans.

His hands cover mine, stilling them. “Seriously, y/n.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.” I look into his eyes trying to convince him by will alone. “I promise.”

His mouth is on mine before I can finish my words. It’s wet and warm and euphoric; it makes my skin buzz. I hope it does for him, too. I move my hands to his hair, clinging to him for dear life as he devours me. The kiss is so passionate that it seems the only way to be closer to him would be to consume him. I moan, loud and long, into his mouth and he swallows it, he swallows my inhibitions and my melancholia.

Matty’s hands slip under the hem of my shirt and gently trace up my sides as he rids me of my t-shirt. I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra and Matty’s hands find my breasts on instinct as I return my attention to the button of his jeans, working diligently. He lifts his hips to help guide his pants and boxers off and slowly bends me backward onto the couch. I press a finger to his mouth as he tries to kiss me again.

“I need to be on top,” I breathe out, raggedly. “Is that okay?”

He nods, sitting up on the couch, naked from the waist down. I stand up, take my own pants off, and move back to him, hovering above him for a moment. 

Matty caresses my inner thigh, slowly traversing the skin closest to my pussy, playing languidly with the wetness around my hole that beckons him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this right now? I don’t want to be a bad guy.” 

“Please, you’re not,” I implore him, kissing his neck and jawline, “You’re not. I want you.” He removes his hand from my center and my brows crease in frustration. 

Matty holds my face in his hands like a precious china doll, touch firmly caring. Like he knows he could break me and he’s anxious to be sure he doesn’t. 

“I don’t ever want to hurt you. Ever. You get it?” 

“I know,” I say into his shoulder.

He slides his fingers inside me, finally, and my head falls to his shoulder as I feel him stretching me out. I whine into his shoulder as he fucks me gently with his fingers, moving them shallowly inside of me, searching for my spot. 

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks, looking into my eyes, praying that I answer him soberly.

I nod dumbly, reaching for his cock below me. I look at it and put my hand on it testingly, feeling him warm and throbbing for me. I move him towards my core and sink down onto him, eyes closing, body yielding to pleasure.

I begin to rock my hips back and forth on him, feeling the delicious pressure on my clit mix with the fullness of him inside me. I feel high, pliable, and vulnerable.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I do it on instinct. I don’t even think. I just want to please him so badly. I know he knows me. I know he’ll take care of me. He answers all my questions with a simple action or turn of phrase. 

“Good girl.” The words go straight to my head, inducing some kind of fantastical euphoria in my brain. His words are like a puzzle piece that has been missing my whole life. Every minute I spent on my knees praying to God, every project I submitted in school — they were all desperate attempts to hear those two words, to begin believing that I could be good. That I wasn’t inherently evil and my nature wasn’t sinful. Despite the fact that I’ve been mean to my friends and selfish when I have things to give, I want to be told that I’m okay anyway. It’s all I’ve wanted to be my whole life, good. And to Matty, I am. It feels like the most right thing in the world. I’d do anything to be good for him, to hear those words one more time. I let the tenderness and oxytocin wash over me, bringing more tears to my eyes as he begins to lift his hips up to meet mine. 

“I’m good?” I squeak out softly, panting and hazy.

“You’re good, baby,” he assures me with a kiss to my lips. It’s hungry and messy and it spurs me on; I ride him harder, faster. I buck into him over and over until numbness begins to crowd the taut muscles of my thighs.

“Let me take a turn,” he says, lifting me off him and laying me down on my back on the couch, “That okay?”

I nod eagerly. Matty holds onto my hips as he begins to nudge into me again, bringing my thighs closer to him than I had ever thought possible as he does.

My whole consciousness is him. I can remember to open my eyes only for seconds at a time. When I do, my whole vision is filled with him: his mouth agape and panting roughly, body falling into me repeatedly, eyes boring into mine, begging me to yield to him.

His hand moves to my clit, rubbing it in time with each perfect thrust. I’m happy, fuzzy, free, and savoring each pleasurable touch like I’ve been starved and Matty is the first food I’ve seen in days.

“Can you cum for me?” he asks, almost nervous.

I nod deliriously, taking his hand in mine – a sinful inversion of his actions the first time we fucked – and use it against my clit the way I need. Matty grunts primally in response and captures my lips between his, moaning into my open mouth. It’s filled with want – no, need. Made hotter by the fact that I know I need him just as badly. 

The pressure on my clit and inside me builds to its hilt and spreads all over my body. I’m cumming over and over, completely unbridled and without warning. I can feel myself clenching around Matty repeatedly, inadvertently. I can vaguely feel him finishing inside of me, more from warmth and wetness than anything else. It’s a foreign feeling, really, but it fills me with pride. Despite my own high, I’m happy to have made him feel good. 

Matty falls into me, resting his head on my breast. I envelop him in my arms, feeling the soft cotton of his t-shirt soaked through with sweat beneath my fingertips. We lay like that, breathing together heavily, until we both fall asleep without a word.

-

A few days later, the whole city is quiet. The people on the street don’t make any noise. The birds in the trees outside my windows open their mouths but no piercing tweet emerges. I watch everything around me as though in a silent film, guessing at what the actors could mean and want. Today is the day. My ears are ringing uncontrollably.

Today is the day that Matty is leaving.

It feels like the time has come without warning, even though I’ve been dreading this hour and minute for weeks. I keep telling myself not to worry because it’s not here yet, but that’s no longer true. Matty is in my bathroom. He stayed the night last night, tangled up in me. I brewed espresso this morning like usual, without a word. We drank it in bed and for once I didn’t complain when he spilled on Nina’s sheets. I just smiled. Angry breath would be wasted on him today. Besides, a stain would be something to remember him by.

Matty emerges, wiping his hands on his sweatpants and ambling over to me. He stands cautiously in front of me. He knows he’s about to hurt me and he doesn’t want to. He made it clear from the start, he never wanted to.

I grab his middle suddenly, unable to stand being away from him any longer. Unable to stand the awkwardness of the pain we have to cause each other. It’s an inevitable. Like a meteor on its course, we were always going to reach this destination. It was unspoken, but it was better that way. I have to believe it was better that way. 

I can smell him. How long will it be until I can smell him again? I preemt the tears by speaking.

“Call me if you’re ever in New York,” I say with my cheek to his linen shirt. There’s a warmth radiating from him that calms me even though I’m anxious for him to leave. I know it will be hard.

“You know I will, baby.” His voice reverberates through the flesh of his chest and the thin fabric of his shirt. I can feel his voice touching me. He hooks his fingers under my chin, easing my face towards his. “You’re always gonna be my good girl, yeah?”

I nod because it’s all I can do. I know it’s not true but it feels so good to pretend for a second that it is. That we’re meant to be together and we’ll always be thinking about the other, even when we get old and we’re married or have kids. 

He ruffles my hair and walks out the front door. I watch his curls bob through the window of the villa as he descends the hill for the final time this summer. I look around at my surroundings, the empty room that allows the faint sound of shrieks in from the pool outside.

I suppose I will keep him with me, in a way. He’ll always be the lover who hurt me the least. He never got the chance to give up on me. He never had to yell or cry to end our relationship, he just had to leave. We both had to. It was never really a choice.

Everything is still where it used to sing for him. The sheets will no longer ruffle, the coffee will stay un-drunk. He’s gone and it hurts so acutely. His absence is so heavy on my shoulders. 

And for the first time in my life, I know I can bear it.

[homelandersprettybaby]

pretty in white; homelander

summary; your wedding night with homelander

cw; virginity kink, impregnation, some curse words, mommy kink? and vaguely inspired by that scene in breaking dawn part i where edward breaks the bed

you looked so pretty in white. homelander thinks it’s his favourite colour on you. his pretty little bride. sticking to tradition, he insisted on not seeing the dress until the actual wedding, allowing himself to be surprised when you walked down the aisle.

the ceremony was incredibly lavish of course, not a single thing had been spared on your big day, courtesy of your fiancé. your dress cost more than your parents house, and you weren't even sure how much your wedding ring has cost; it was made exclusively of pink diamonds.

you didn’t need any of it though, you would’ve been happy getting married in a paper bag under a bridge if it meant getting to marry the love of your life.

naturally, there were a million paparazzi and fans waiting outside of the venue for pictures, and you and your husband shot them your biggest smiles. you happily ignored the things homelander muttered under his breath at the intrusion, electing to focus on your upcoming honeymoon.

in the limo, he could barely keep his hands off you. he almost ripped your dress off right then and there. you had to gently remind him that you did not want your first time with him to be in the backseat of a car.

he reluctantly agreed.

after the ceremony, he put you up in an extravagant villa in paris for your honeymoon. he made sure to remind you how many strings he had to pull to get this much time off with you, to anyone else it would've seemed hostile, but you heard the loving lilt in his voice.

you think this might’ve been the first time you didn’t see him in his suit, exchanging it for a sleek black tux.

you loved it.

now, you lay on the bed in your bridal lingerie; a shy ivory lace babydoll, as your new husband kisses your neck. you want him, you’ve been thinking about this moment for months now. ever the traditionalist, homelander wanted to wait until you were married before he fucked you for the first time.

it was finally going to happen.

“are you ready?” he mumbles into your neck, “i finally get to fuck you.”

“i’m nervous.” you whisper, “you know i’m a virgin.”

his tender hands explore the soft skin not covered by the silk. he’s trying to calm you down; he can hear your heart racing like a jackrabbit against your rib cage.

“you’re gonna love it, i promise.” he smiles wolfishly, dragging his lips down your ample cleavage.

the butterflies in your stomach are going rampant now. he’s making you so nervous and he’s barely even touched you yet. despite the fact he burns, you’re shivering under his touch.

“don’t worry babe,” your husband smiles, fangs on full display, “i won’t break you.”

you nod, giving him full permission to continue. you wanted him to be close to you. you needed him.

homelander’s fingers slide down to your thong over your clothed cunt; fingers massaging the material between your slit.

“i know you did a great job picking this little number,” he growls, “but i think it would look better on the floor.”

without warning, he bunches the material up and over your head, leaving your breasts bare and on display for his eyes only.

he can only imagine what they would look like engorged with milk after he knocks you up.

“oh babe, they’re beautiful.”

you smile shyly, fingers finding their way into his hair, gently tugging at the dark roots.

“you like them..?”

he rolls his eyes, it’s a stupid fucking question. of course he likes them. but since you’re his shy little girl, he’ll indulge you.

“prettiest tits i’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.”

before you can respond, he flips you on your back against the array of comically large pillows. he’s been waiting so long for this. he deserves this. he deserves to fuck his wife’s tight little virgin pussy.

pushing your panties aside, his fat cock pushes against your entrance, pleading to push in and make you his.

“gonna put it in now, sweetheart.”

he couldn’t have prepared you for the burn you were feeling the minute he filled you up. you felt your eyes start to prick with water. it was going to take a couple minutes to get used to.

“so fucking tight for me,” he hisses.

homelander starts at a slow pace, wanting to ease into you. momentarily, he wishes his first time could’ve been with you. he wishes he could’ve had this experience alongside you, instead of with someone who didn’t care enough about him to stay afterwards.

“fuck!” you mumble, “your’re so big, honey. stretching me open..”

at your praise, he thrusts deeper into you, cock kissing your cervix at a brutal pace. he’s losing control, and you can tell by his thrusts.

“careful john, you’re gonna— oh!”

wanting to redirect his strength to something that isn’t you, he grips the headboard, slamming it against the wall. it barely lasts a minute before crumpling right down the middle.

“gonna fuck a baby into you… make you a mommy,” he grunts, “you wanna carry my kid, babe?”

you feel the bed shake underneath you. he’s fucking you so good, you know you’re not going to last much longer.

“yes john! i wanna be a mommy!” you wail desperately as you come, “give me a baby!”

not long after, homelander spills his seed into your velvety walls, filling you up. the thought of you as the future mother of his child pushes him over the edge. he won’t let you waste any of his come, so he gently pushes the excess back into your weeping cunt.

“that was perfect,” you sigh fondly, “but i still can’t believe you broke the bed..”

“i couldn’t help myself, you were just perfect.” homelander says, pulling you into his bare chest.

“i love you so much.” you mumble before nodding off against him.

[willowser]

my guilty pleasure trope is like. trash reality dating show au LOL

like you and bakugou on love island ??? HELLO ???? he is 100% the show-stopper that comes in as a twist at the very end, after everyone is already coupled up. thinking they're happy in their pair. ready to move forward and get to know one another. AND THEN BAM. bakugou katsuki. huge and tan and toned. probably a firefighter or something, been single for a long time because he finds it hard to put himself out there — and coming on live, national television was the perfect way to get himself out of his comfort zone LOL

let's say. you're coupled up with denki and you love it ! he's great and funny and charming and will make someone happy — but that someone is just not you. from the get-go, your relationship feels more friendly than anything, but he doesn't try to cop a feel on you in bed and he's a good snuggler and maybe you kiss him once, just to see how it feels, and that's not so bad either. but there are no sparks, no fireworks. you'd be content to even ride out the rest of the challenge in a couple, because he's comfortable, but that's not what either of you came on the show for.

after the first week, bakugou couples up with jirou. her sharp wit and dry humor draws him in enough (and he's always kind of liked that edgy look that she has) — but he very quickly realizes that she's really not that into him POOR GUY. bakugou really isn't her type; besides finding his attitude funny every now and again, they really don't have much in common. don't do much of the same things, share hobbies or interests, so it's a little bit of a bust.

i like to think you're just friends for a week or two. another guy comes in, two new girls come in, but nothing really changes for either of you. keeping your respective couples, just because no one else has really caught your interest — and it's not until a challenge has you kissing him square on the mouth that either of you start to take a second glance across the villa.

you watch him work out in the mornings, make a second cup of tea for when he's done. somehow, you both always end up in the same section, leaning back in the lawn chairs or sitting side-by-side on the beanbags as you chat about how the challenge has been going so far for either of you.

the part of this trope that is so funny to me is that — bakugou really is not the kind of guy that should be on this show LOL he's hard to approach and intimidating and if you don't understand his attitude, then you won't like him. and what little game he has isn't played like this: approaching someone in front of everyone else, nabbing you from your couple, having to put himself out there so that he doesn't get sent home. all while on live television.

but — it's not until you admit, casually one day, that you and denki are just friends that he decides to do anything about it. the two of you have gotten along so well in your couple that bakugou didn't think he stood a chance but after talking to you, he's awkwardly telling kaminari in the kitchen, alone, that he's planning on pursuing you. and denki thinks that's great ! thinks you deserve it !

the week continues on much the same: you and bakugou chat here and there, eat breakfast together away from everyone else, he makes you laugh and you make him smile his crooked little smile at the floor, embarrassed, as he tucks his face and pulls his hat further over his eyes. it's cute and you're having fun with him, but the recoupling is surprising, still.

when he has to stand up there, in front of everyone, red-faced, and grit out that you've caught his eye, that he's enjoyed his time with you, that he'd like to get to know you better — and you're floored. ecstatic, but floored. because he is certainly intimidating, and regardless of the fact that you were with kaminari for so long, you might not have ever approached bakugou, because he's just. so huge and handsome and striking.

and then you're settling in for the night, crawling in to your shared bed for this first time. and he's not like denki, not a cuddler, but you still make a point to wiggle around to him, wait until the lights are off and even breathing sounds throughout the room — and then you tell him, quietly, grinning in the dark:

"i'm really glad you picked me."

you feel bakugou sigh, a bit heavy, and you wonder if you're going in to strong — but then his hand skates over your arm, rests carefully against your hip, and he murmurs, "'m really glad, too."

i wrote this a lil bit ago and have since been made aware of luna's love island bkg !! 🥺 it's so detailed !! there's a whole show for the two of them !!

[artists-ally]

would you write a one-shot about harvey and reader on their honeymoon? like, he rented a villa for them in the mountains and then is snowing for the first time in the season and reader gets excited like lorelai gilmore on winter fjvjkfdfmk

{Scenes from the Cityscape} Harvey x Fem!Reader

I feel like honeymoon Harvey would spoil you to no fucking end. Like he might even have someone that secretly follows y’all around and everything you touch he buys for you and then it’s just there when you get back. Anyway here’s my two cents on the matter <3 title from this song that I highly suggest listening to.

Word count: 1,619

Warning: none, very fluffy

~~~~~~

“Will you please just tell me where we’re going?” 

“No.” You could hear the smile. “Just be patient.”

You huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew you shouldn’t have let Harvey plan the honeymoon. Sure, he let you take care of the whole wedding; everything from the flowers and the cake, to what boxers he wore under his pants. All of it was planned and precise. 

This was most certainly not how you wanted to kick off the next two weeks. The two of you compromised: you plan the wedding, he plans the honeymoon. You got on a plane at six this morning and all you knew was it was freezing outside.

You trusted Harvey enough to not plan something you hated, because then both of you would be miserable. The cold was a good sign. 

And being blindfolded didn’t necessarily make anything better. Especially this rickety bus you guys got on which was wobbling side to side as you drove for about an hour. It seemed to drive on and on and on and then there was a steady pace up and up and up. 

You wanted to take a peek to see where you were heading, but Harvey had his hand in yours so you knew you weren’t getting away with it. 

“Alright, we’re here. Nope, you’re not allowed to take it off yet, don’t even try,” He muttered, taking both of your hands and leading you out of the bus. 

The gravel stones crunched under your boots and the chill of the air stung your nose. You took in a big breath and exhaled. “I smell snow.” “How can you smell snow?” Harvey asked, very obviously annoyed that the surprise was slowly starting to be revealed.

“Because I can,” you shrugged. Your mind began to wonder about where you were. You knew it was out of the country because you needed your passport, but other than that you had not a single clue. Harvey took your boarding pass and wouldn’t let you anywhere near a navigation screen. He somehow even convinced the flight crew to not say anything either. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Spector, welcome! Please, follow me and I will show you to your residence,” you can only assume it was some hotel staff that greeted you. It did warm a place in your heart to hear Mrs. Spector. 

Hardwood floors creaked under your boots as you stepped up with Harvey’s guidance. When you were inside, the warm scent of a fresh fire greeted you, as well as the sound. Harvey told you to just stand there for a moment, and you could hear a muffled conversation in the other room. 

“Okay, are you ready to take off your blindfold?” Harvey asked, pressing up behind you.

“For the love of god yes,” you giggled, letting your hands fall over his when he wrapped them around your waist. His hand came up to the back of your head and tugged the fabric off. 

Through squinting eyes, you looked around the room.

Wood floors, a comfy sofa, and a raging fireplace sat in front of you. The kitchen was off to your left and so was a dining room. You gasped, looking through the kitchen to see a window with huge trees, coated in a small layer of fresh snow. 

“Harvey-”

“We’re in Banff,” was all he said. You made a mad dash around the couch to get to the kitchen, exploring all the hallways of this cabin. 

“Harvey oh my god it’s beautiful.” Banff was a town in Alberta, Canada. With the most gorgeous mountain views of the Rockies, frozen over lakes and historic castles, it has been a bucket list place for you for pretty much your entire life. And you were here. 

You ran up the stairs, ditching Harvey to find a balcony or something to get outside and look. Through the master bedroom at the end of the hallway, there were a double set of doors that overlooked a forest. When you opened them, the bitter wind bit your face in the most refreshing way possible. 

The deck wrapped around, and you followed it to a breathtaking view. 

There, right in front of you, were some of the biggest peaks you had ever seen. Coated with white and jagged cliffs, the treacherous beauty of the mountains welcomed you. And the lake that was frozen over was dazzling with people skating. 

Tears almost formed in your eyes, but they quickly turned to ice in your lashes, clumping them together. It was just so perfect. Most couples enjoy a trip somewhere warm, but not you. You couldn’t stand the sun. This was your place. The one place that didn’t seem to put any pressure on you to do anything but enjoy it’s raw, natural beauty. 

“It’s supposed to snow tomorrow, first of the year,” Harvey said from behind you. When you turned, he had a few snowflakes in his hair, leather gloves out for you to take. “So, you think this place will do for the next two weeks?”

“Harvey… this is just- how did you even pull this off? Banff is impossible to get to at this time of year.” Mid November was prime time for visiting, and prime time for snowfall. And when it snowed in Banff, it was several feet at once. Made for perfect skiing, snowboarding, and tubing experiences. 

“I have my ways,” he smirked. “I just wanted us to be able to enjoy just that. Us. No one around to know who we are, no one around to bother us. It’s peaceful and quiet and secluded for us to do whatever we want.”

You gazed up and around again, “I can’t believe this. I don’t think you have any idea how excited I am, Harvey.”

“I think I have some idea,” he laughed. “I don’t think you have any idea how excited I am to spend this time with my wife.”

You blushed, resting your head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend this time with my husband. Can you promise me something, though?” “Anything, my love,” he kissed your temple, then your forehead when you locked eyes.

“Will you please have a snowball fight with me in the morning and then cook me breakfast while we warm up by the fire?”

Harvey just laughed, hugging you tightly to him. “Yes, I would love to beat you in a snowball fight and then win back your love with pancakes and bacon.”

“What makes you think you’re going to win?”

“What makes you think you’re going to win?”

“Because,” you scoffed. “I am one hundred percent better at making snowballs.” “Which one of us played baseball?” Harvey gave you a cocky look. “I did. I’m gonna win.”

“We’ll see about that,” you pointed at him, heading back inside. “Any other surprises I should know about?” “Of course there are, but they’re surprises, Yn. That’s kind of the point, I’m not supposed to tell you anything. But, one of them is tonight. So we should start getting ready.”

Harvey had packed everything for you, so you had no idea what you actually had to wear. Curse him and his vague-ness. He wouldn’t tell you, no matter how many times you tried. Harvey just ignored you and your poking when he wouldn’t tell you. 

When he went to get dressed, you fixed your hair and did your makeup. Music was floating through the room as you sat at the vanity in the bathroom, Harvey off in the bedroom somewhere. There was a soft knock at the door and he stood there, leaning against it in a new suit you hadn’t seen before. 

It was all black, even the shirt was too. No tie, which was a dangerous look for him. His normally spiky hair was smoothed a little more since he had been growing it out a little. He had on a gold watch and cufflinks to match. 

“This is for you.” Harvey pulled a garment bag over his shoulder and hung it on the back of the door. 

He walked out, and you eyed the bag suspiciously. When you unzipped it, a gold clump of fabric flowed out. It was shiny, made from silk. When you got a good look at it, your jaw dropped to the floor. It had one strap and the fabric carried across your waist to the opposite hip, parting for a slit all the way up. It was almost a corseted top, it had some sort of boning in it to keep the neckline up. 

It was a little difficult to get on with all the folds, but you managed. 

“Harvey, can you come zip it up?” “Of course, my love.” His hands drew up your back, placing a kiss to your shoulder when he was done. “You look stunning, Yn.”

“Where on earth are we going?” You had to ask one last time. 

Harvey grabbed your hand, spinning you around in a circle to get a full look at you. “To a ball.”

“A ball? Seriously?” He just nodded at you, your obvious excitement pouring out of you. “Like, a real ball? With dancing and mingling and looking hot and mysterious?”

“Yes, especially the hot part,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you ready to go?”

You practically running to the door was enough of an answer for him. A limo was parked outside and when the two of you got settled, there was some champagne poured. 

“To us,” Harvey said. “And to my best friend, and the love of my life. I cannot wait to do the rest of our lives with you, Yn. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Harvey.”

~~~~~

Harvey's suit

Reader's dress

Views of Banff

[p-redux]

I'm back from the dentist (won't be my last visit, I'm having a lot of work done) so, without further delay, I present you the Sam Heughan, Sarah Holden, SH and SH, #samarah PROOF they stayed together in the same villa in the Canary Islands a few days ago.

First, here's a refresher on my previous post where I showed a fan shared he saw Sam on the same flight with him headed to Las Palmas, Gran Canaria, Canary Islands. 👇

And a refresher on my other previous post showing Sarah Holden was also in Gran Canaria.

Soooo, onto the PROOF that #samarah stayed at the SAME villa. A few days ago, I was DMed the info on WHERE EXACTLY they stayed. But I didn't want to post pics while they were still there since the location could be easily found via a quick Google search. Now that Sarah has posted she's back in Scotland and Sam has posted he's in Austria, I can post info about where they stayed. Here is the listing for the villa. Just copy and paste it into browser and you can read the location, all the info, and look at over 40 pictures of it. 👇

https://www.vrbo.com/no-no/feriebolig/p10693498

Here's the main pic on the listing and some info 👇

And here's Sarah's IG post where you can see the villa's pool in the background. It's the same shape and you can see the same wall and fencing detail in both pics. You can also see the black chairs and table. 👇

Here's proof Sam was in the same villa 👇 The flooring in the bedroom in the villa is the same as in the room where Sam is in. The painting to the right of him is the same, but it's reversed because of the video.

Here's both of them from the same villa. Notice the matching ceiling vents throughout the villa. The same ones are in the kitchen where Sarah is, as in the bedroom where Sam is. Also, the same exact doors in all the rooms in the villa. And the same kitchen microwave and oven in the kitchen in the villa as in the pic with Sarah. The door is on the other side because, again, the pic is reversed due to the video. 👇

You can also see the reflection from the room on Sam's watch. 👇

In addition, someone pointed out in DM that Sarah had already been to the Canary Islands with her son last March. 👇

So, she probably told Sam how great it is, and she an Sam planned a few days' vacation there, just the two of them.

I rest my case, your honor.

FACTS: Sam was in the Canary Islands. Sarah was in the Canary Islands at the same time. Both stayed at the Tauro Villas Deluxe 1. Sam did not post where he was, which is usually the case when he's on a non work, non charity trip. BTW, Anyone who leaves comments that "they could have been there as friends or workout partners," will have their life experience card revoked, and be sent to a remedial course on THE FACTS OF LIFE. JS 🤗

Sarah is around age 32, is a single mom to a young son, lives in Scotland, is fit AF, I don't think I've ever seen such a flat stomach on a woman, AND this is AFTER having a kid, and she battled a pretty serious health scare. She seems very cool. So, let's see if she and Sam are dating casually or more will develop. Stay tuned...