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this is so sweet! i love love love love your writing, it's so cute and lovely <3 the scenario is perfect, just like i imagined. the hcs are also very sweet, naps and zoro are my faves <3 thank you for writing, nixxy 🤍
Hey guys! I thought I’d so something fun this weekend, so I did my best to sexualize the alphabet and turn it into a headcanon game!
So here’s how it works. You send me a character (or a few), and the corresponding letters that you want me to answer for them!
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
I’ll have this running all weekend, so feel free to drop by!
Send a letter for more information on my muse’s likes and dislikes! Inspired by kinks discussed around the internet. The (explanations) are mere guidelines, feel free to elaborate as much as you’d like!
A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)
B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?)
C - Crying (is it a turn on? a turn off? do they cry during sex? have they cried during sex? what was the reason?)
D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)
E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)
F - Food play (do they like using food in the bedroom? are there any foods they prefer to use during sex or foreplay? any they’d like to try?)
G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)
H - Humiliation (does degradation and insults get them hot? do they get off on humiliating someone else? what kind of humiliation is good for them?)
I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.)
J - Jelly (what kind of lube are they using? is it flavored? have they tasted it? do they prefer to use something other than real lube during sex?)
K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?)
L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?)
M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)
N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)
O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)
P - Photography (are cameras allowed in the bedroom? do they send nudes? do they ask for nudes? would they ever record themselves having sex / being caught up in a sexual act?)
Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)
R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)
S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)
T - Top or bottom (self explanatory…)
U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)
V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?)
W - Water (pool sex? bath / shower sex? are they into watersports at all?)
X - X-dressing (do they crossdress as a part of teasing / foreplay? does crossdressing turn them on? turn their partner on? do they prefer to do it or watch their partner crossdress instead? do they use other costumes? cat ears, tails, etc?)
Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)
Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)
... Close, so close, with the beckoning motion of his fingers, when Erwin lifts his head with a soft groan. He frees his grip against your thigh. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you feel yourself desperately, uselessly clenching for him, suddenly achingly empty. Your legs slide down, weak and pulsing against where his grasp had been. You crane your neck forward, as a desperate whine slips from your lips.
“Don’t… be so cruel.”
He’s panting as he sits up into your line of vision, lips glistening with you. He watches your face, flushed and contorted, and crouches forward, one knee between your legs as he rests his forearms on either side of you. He’s silent, blue eyes dark in the dim room as they bore into yours, and his finger slides under the chain of your necklace. The weight of the stone slides against your shoulder, dipping into your collarbone, as he urges it forward. You sigh, and he kisses you – briefly, lips closed.
“I like your hands here,” he muses, one hand traveling up to run along the strings. Your fingers fold down, reaching the smooth green stone, then his warm, gentle grip. “Keep them up.” ...
[author's note at the end]
When Commander Erwin Smith has reason to travel to Wall Sina, he brings you back gifts. The trinkets have unspoken words tied into them, his fingers writing them into the side of the sweets, the wood, the cloth, as he presses them into your hands. Sorry, the gifts say, heartfelt messages that reverberate when you carry them through your days, sorry for the uncertainty. Sorry that the only promise I can give you is that nothing is promised. Sorry that every time you see me, it might be the last. Sorry that I can’t give up this life, these responsibilities, for you. Sorry that I won’t.
Some might say that repeated apologies are worthless. But when the ribbons fray and snap after so many times knotted in your hair, when mud cakes indelibly at the bottom of the fine leather boots, when the sweet berry scones are all devoured, the memory of him remains. Erwin’s fingers, gentle to the touch under the callouses, and how when you look up to thank him, the way his eyes say more than enough. It’s what you look forward to, that private time, those unspoken words, more than the gifts themselves.
It’s a more guaranteed promise than a return from the other direction.
He’s been gone just over a week this time. The summons of military officials to the capital are often confidential, which makes both Erwin’s departure and reappearance somewhat of a surprise. Today it comes when you pass aimlessly through the streets and hear two familiar voices floating from a tavern. One overly- enthusiastic – bordering on screaming – the other groaning, begging for them to just shut up. Looking through the pub windows, beyond the layers of grime and the late afternoon sun, you can make out the two pine-green cloaks unaccompanied by their usual third.
Your body recognizes what it means before your brain can string together coherent logic. Feet turning, you find your pace quickening, that pure warm joy burning in your chest hotter and hotter as you make your way back to those usual lodgings. Hand on the thick wood lobby door, never mind the splinters from the harsh, eager shove. You know it, you just know it, almost sprinting up the stairs –
And he’s there. Erwin stands on the landing outside the rented room, one hand curled in a knock, the other holding a brown paper parcel to his chest.
“Welcome back,” you say, breathless, heart pounding in your throat.
He smiles in return, the hand just about to knock at your door extending toward you. He catches you around the waist, fingers hard over your hip as he shifts his hold to the small of your back to draw you in. Your arms fold into his, hands reaching up and resting on either side of his face. Just the faintest hint of stubble catches beneath your thumbs when you run them up his jaw.
Erwin smells clean and expensive, the rosy amber soap of the capital’s lodgings still lingering on his skin. It’s heady when your lips meet, and he tastes sweet on your tongue when his mouth parts in a gentle sigh. The collar of his trenchcoat is stiff against the side of your hands as they slide down to cradle against the back of his neck. The bulk of the package shifts between your chests, his hand flexing warm against your sternum in the grip. He tightens the embrace, and your fingertips press into him in response.
It’s a brief kiss, Erwin leaning away with a light squeeze. You fumble for the key.
“How was it?” you ask as you unlock the door, knowing his answers will be guarded. Your heart still beats wild and gleeful.
“Easy journey, uneventful all in all. The assembly was just route affairs,” Erwin says. There’s no way to know the extent of that truth, but you nod, accepting what he can share.
It’s a small room, cheap, but discrete and reliable enough. A wash basin, a set of drawers that rarely has reason to hold clothes for long, and the bed. It’s already dark, the sun slipping beyond the view of the window. You shrug the thick curtains closed. Erwin strikes a match to light candles on the bedside table with the package still tucked into the crook of his arm.
“I brought you something,” he continues, and your eyes go not to the outstretched parcel, but to his face. In the dim warm light of the room, his gaze shines on you as he shrugs off the overcoat, his mouth curving into a soft smile when you take the crinkled paper package from him. It’s about the size of a book, but much too thin.
“Thank you.”
“Open it.”
You tear your eyes away to look down, the package laced with soft creamy string. Plucking at the knots with your fingernails is futile, and you move to sit on the side of the bed, resting it on your lap for better leverage. Erwin sits beside you.
Untangling the knots takes a little longer than is graceful, and you let out a light, anxious laugh as you run your finger under the folds of the packaging. A small wooden box slides from the paper.
“I remembered your favourite colour – ” Erwin begins, but your gasp interrupts him. The polished wood of the lid slides under your fingers as you lift it, revealing a shining necklace, the metal cool silver even in the weak light, a single glimmering stone weighing the chains down to the corner of the box. You lift it, letting it catch iridescence, brilliant rainbows thrown against the walls.
“It’s gorgeous,” you say, turning back to him. Erwin says nothing, simply taking the necklace. It slides between your fingers as your hands brush together, his touch lingering. You lean your head to the side, letting him fasten it around your neck as you reach up to center it. His hands are gentle, a soft caress against your shoulders that says all those heavy, unspoken words.
Sorry, sorry.
The necklace is beautiful, truly, truly beautiful, but it doesn’t matter, it never matters, as much as this time with him does.
With one hand still against the stone you reach for his face again with a splayed hand. You run your finger just over his lips, feeling the grooves gently chapped skin, the cool exhale of his breath. Your eyes search his, those endless storms of blue. Erwin leans into your touch, his hand moving back around your waist to pull you close once more. You lift your hand from his lips, gently cupping his face and letting your lids sink closed, his brilliant cerulean gaze fading as he kisses you again.
There’s no rush to these homecomings of his, no eager panic like the hot, frantic fucking that happens between official duties or fractured expeditions, with harnesses choking your limbs and the scent of blood whipping the air. But Erwin’s lips are still hungry, the hand on you commanding – hands, now, as the weight of his embrace tightens around you. He moves you onto him as much as you lean forward, and you’re straddling his lap with folds of fabric straining between you.
Your body presses against him, and your fingers hunt blindly down, over the rough velvet skin of his jaw, breath fluttering in his throat, down to the strings of his tie. You gently pull at the smooth green stone just enough to give yourself room to fumble for his shirt buttons. In return, Erwin’s hands are sinking lower, gathering your skirt where it bunches at your raised knees over him. It’s when his hands move up, over the tickling, smooth fabric of your stockings to the curve of your thighs and ass, that you feel yourself grinding just so slightly into his lap.
Unbuttoning the shirt all the way down brings your hands to his belt, and you break the kiss with a pant, resting your forehead against Erwin’s as your open your eyes. His eyelashes blink up under yours. One hand stays bracing at your back, the other moves to still your unfastening of his pants. A simple directive. When you do, hesitant, grabbing at his waist for balance, his hand at your hip slacks. You lean back on his lap until his face is level with yours, the hand at your back tightening again to keep you steady. Erwin lets go of your hands to cradle your face. His fingers stroke soft, right under your ear, thumb caressing the side of your cheek and sliding towards your lips. You pause, fingers flexing, waiting under his open shirt, his body warm.
This is the Commander’s leadership as you intimately know.
“Open your mouth for me,” Erwin says, the order a hoarse whisper, and moves his hand forward. He traces his thumb over your bottom lip as he speaks. You part your mouth, or he pushes inside, you can’t tell if you followed his words or his motions. Your lips close around his thumb as he curls it right behind your teeth, and he lets out a gentle groan when your tongue flickers over him. His other fingers cup right under your chin, keeping your face right towards his, and when your eyes flutter to him, his cheeks are ruddy with flushed desire.
His thumb moves up, past your sliding tongue, to the roof of your mouth, forcing your lips open again. The salty taste of his skin, the slight prick of his fingernail against your palate, brings a tingle through your mouth, and you moan at the watering feeling. The hand stroking over your hip moves lower, massaging in slow circles.
“You’ve been patient all week,” Erwin says. “Can you be patient a bit longer?”
Drool slips from your lips as you nod into his hold.
Erwin smiles, lets his finger rub down across your lip as he pulls his thumb from your mouth, smearing on the side of your chin as he tilts his face close to you, kissing your mouth sweetly. Hints of rose waft through the air with him as he releases his hold against your jaw to wrap both hands around your waist, turning you with him to guide you down to the bed.
His open shirt hangs over you, the swinging strings of the half-loosened bolo tie crashing into his fingers as he moves down your body, unfastening as he goes in the constantly adjusting crouch over you, pressing kisses to the skin he slowly exposes. You sit up as best as you can, aware of the panting breaths coming from your mouth as you both peel the clothes off your body to fling to the floor. Erwin reaches your stockings, running along the band, and you roll your hips up. He catches right under your knee with strong, thick fingers, and lifts your leg to him.
You flush, feeling your face grow hot, when Erwin leans in and kisses you there, open mouthed against your inner thigh. He must feel you tremble because he moves lower, kisses just a little higher up on your thigh, biting the sensitive skin gently.
You moan, reaching for him, and he catches your hand in his free one. He interlaces his fingers with yours, pushing down to hold you, hot against your strained knuckles.
“Will you be patient?” he asks again.
Your “yes” is more a groan.
Erwin squeezes your hand before letting go, and you rest back on your elbows as he rolls your stockings down your legs, sliding your boots off with them. You tighten your thighs, resisting the urge to cover your wholly naked self as Erwin adjusts above you, knees on either side of yours and sitting up. He looks down at you, face half-hidden in the long shadows of the room, tugging off the white dress shirt.
The sparkling green stone swings forward with his movement, and he catches it in his fingers. He’s silent for a moment, and you lick your bottom lip.
“Erwin – ”
“Raise your arms,” he says, rocking back on his ankles as he pulls the stone lower through the tie. He lifts it over his neck, disrupting his usually neatly parted hair.
You settle back onto the bed, mattress letting out a creak as you roll your shoulders, lifting your hands to him. The chain of your necklace slithers across your skin, the charm falling against your back. Erwin takes your offered hands gently, his grip swallowing your wrists. He pins them together not ungently, leaning forward to give a soft kiss to your entwined fingers. The strings of the tie slides between you.
“I’m going to trust you won’t break this,” he says, his voice thick.
“No,” you whisper as he slips the tie over your hands, tugging the cords just enough that your wrists can barely turn against each other.
“Good girl,” Erwin says, letting you go. Your hands rest against your stomach, and your eyes move to them, the green stone glimmering in the dim candlelight. It feels so heavy, so conspicuous, and you lift your hands over your head to reach the pillow behind. You raise your chin, looking at your hands behind you, then lift the back of your head, craning your neck to see Erwin. The bed dips as he climbs off, the clatter of his belt as he pulls his pants off, and then he’s back.
He’s lowering himself, shifting over you, and when you look at his face, his eyes are locked on your body as he places his hands on your thighs, urging them to either side in a gentle lift. His blond hair falls down, out of comfortable sight, as he settles down between your legs. You swallow, letting your head rest back against the pillow. The dark ceiling yawns over you.
Erwin’s fingers are firm on your skin, his breath so warm against your inner thigh, the delicate rhythm of air just barely skating across you making your muscles tense. And – “oh” – it falls from you in a gasp when his lips touch you again, a more intimate kiss.
He never eats you out sloppily, no loud smacking mess, but his tongue is demanding. He moves into your cunt slowly at first, tongue tracing your slit, dipping between your folds to press down and find your clit. His mouth opens fully, lower lip rubbing against you, giving teasing friction that makes your legs tremble as something hot begins to coil and burn right behind your stomach. The next groan that comes from you, a breathy muddle of elated curses and his name, is what makes him move faster, flicking his tongue up against you with hard pressure. Your eyes unfocus and cross and the corners of the ceiling multiply, an ache shooting through one leg as Erwin pushes it higher as he lets the other go. His hand slides gently against your inner thighs.
“Fuck, oh!” Your sounds, broken moans and half words, cut through the air.
Erwin’s hand under your thigh tightens in warning, not enough to hurt, but enough to bring you pause, shaky breaths still harsh out of your lungs. “Can you hold your voice back?” he asks, his voice low. “The neighbors weren’t too happy last time.”
You press your lips together and nod.
“Can you?” he asks again, and it’s there, the command in his voice that doesn’t leave an option. You just nod again, not trusting your volume, and you hope he sees you. He keeps moving, letting your wet arousal pool against his searching fingers until he slides a finger into your entrance. You roll your shoulders back even further, your shoulder blades sore at the strain, hands still dutifully clasped over your head. Biting back the scream is hard - fuck! - and his tongue rolls over your clit again and again methodically even as he fucks two fingers up inside you.
His mouth, his fingers. He runs his tongue in smooth circles before closing his lips around your clit and giving a brief suck that rockets hot through you. His fingers slip further up, pushing you apart as he goes further, to the second knuckle. He pumps into you, short and fast, but deep.
You roll your hips into him, pushing your body down the bed. You almost swing your hands down with you over your head, and let out a whimper as you force them back. The cords of his tie are beginning to get uncomfortable. The blood feels heavy under your skin, hands throbbing at the constraints. It’s a present sensation, just not as pressing as the feeling of Erwin between your thighs as your hips buck, almost riding his face now with erratic, growing speed.
Erwin’s pulling you along, tongue flickering up and down you faster and faster. A groan slips from him, muffled into your body and sending shooting vibrations through to your core. You push your hips back down into the bed and his fingers chase you down, curling in you deeper and deeper, pushing behind your stomach.
Close, so close, with the beckoning motion of his fingers, when Erwin lifts his head with a soft groan. He frees his grip against your thigh. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you feel yourself desperately, uselessly clenching for him, suddenly achingly empty. Your legs slide down, weak and pulsing against where his grasp had been. You crane your neck forward, as a desperate whine slips from your lips.
“Don’t… be so cruel.”
He’s panting as he sits up into your line of vision, lips glistening with you. He watches your face, flushed and contorted, and crouches forward, one knee between your legs as he rests his forearms on either side of you. He’s silent, blue eyes dark in the dim room as they bore into yours, and his finger slides under the chain of your necklace. The weight of the stone slides against your shoulder, dipping into your collarbone, as he urges it forward. You sigh, and he kisses you – briefly, lips closed.
“I like your hands here,” he muses, one hand traveling up to run along the strings. Your fingers fold down, reaching the smooth green stone, then his warm, gentle grip. “Keep them up.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, the breathless edge to your voice losing any sort of snark. You think he smiles, but it’s hard to see clearly so close to you in the poor light. He rocks over you, and your words cut off in a gasp as you feel his cock, hard and thick against your inner thigh.
“Oh, fuck,” you let out in anticipation, but Erwin’s fingers drum against your hand as he slides his cock back and forth between your legs, pressing right up against your wet folds. It’s so sensitive, so teasing, as the heat burning in your core begins to gather and spread. You try to rock your hips and bring your thighs together to grind the underside of your cunt against him, but his body doesn’t allow it.
He lets go of your hands to reach down, the bed creaking with the weight of his supporting hand as he guides his cock to you. The back of his hand slides against the slick on your skin, your own arousal and the remnants of his saliva, and you groan again. He pushes firmly against you, your sharper sound his cue.
Just the tip of his cock edges between your folds, down to your entrance. You let out a gasp, tightening desperately, letting little anxious sounds slip. Erwin pauses, leaning into you, knees knocking into the side of your legs. He reaches back up, holding your bound hands in his.
“Please,” you pant, eyes wild and hands straining, fingers knotted together to keep yourself from thrashing and snapping his cords. Your back arches, hips and shoulders pressing into the bed. His hand flexes on your wrists. “Please.” Again, begging.
Even his long patience has limits.
“How cruel would I be to keep you waiting any longer?”
The kiss Erwin lays on your lips is heady with the scent of you and the flavor of his sweat. The weight of his body, the sleek of his muscles sliding against yours almost pushes your breath straight out of you, but your voice follows in a whine as he slowly thrusts his cock into you.
“Oh!”
You breathe it into his mouth, trying to keep the yelp under control before your voice slips too high, but being stretched so fully with his cock makes your whole body tremble. You squeeze your inner thigh muscles faintly, weakly, to no avail, and keep your lips pressed to his with another soft whine.
Erwin breaks the kiss to push his head into the bed besides you, a shuddering moan coming from him. Your chest rises and falls faintly under his shoulder, trembling with the strength of your heartbeat, the physical rush of feeling him fill you. He twists his head to the side, kissing your cheek, before sliding his hand down your raised forearms to dig into the bed beside you, and pushing himself up to thrust into your body.
His adjustment shifts him inside you, forcing a short hiss that you struggle to keep from exploding into a scream. These thrusts are deep, steady, fast, as he builds a rhythm that sends shivers shooting through you. You breathe in tight gulps, fingers shaking and clenching to hold on to each other, scrambling to anchor yourself above your head where he wants you to.
Erwin takes hold of your leg, a cupping grasp right under the knee to pull it straight up. As your body shakes with his thrusts your foot rests over his shoulder and he moves to grab and hold you in place at the ankle, a strain that makes you moan even as it forces him in even deeper. Each stroke seems to hit right there, right to your core, over and over and over. It’s a fierce pace as his hips slam into your body. He fucks you fast, demanding and restless. Moans fall from you helplessly, and you try to force out the words through quick breaths.
“So – good – so – good inside – Erwin!”
You force yourself to keep it as faint as you can manage but you’re a babbling mess, sweat already rolling down your body. Erwin gasps out your name in response, his voice thick. Strands of blond hair fall in front of his eyes, and he grunts, tossing his head to shake them away.
His cock twitches in you when his strokes pause. You can feel it, what you do to him, what you’re making him feel. Your gaze rolls over his body, how his abdomen muscles contract with each thrust, how the sweat glistens in his collarbone, how his eyes burn behind the blond hair that stubbornly falls back across his forehead. Your toes curl, the foot over his shoulder pointing. The inability to touch him, to grab at him and hold him close, to kiss his mouth and scream his name, especially the harder he pounds into you with a brutal pace, is frustrating.
Everything is tightening, your body trembling, your wrists throbbing against the cords. The waves he’s sending through you are so warm, so pleasurable, you feel your inner muscles constrict over him. Erwin’s hips slow. With a groan, he stops, pushing his cock deep up into you. He leans into your body, squeezing your leg against the hard, sweaty muscles of his chest, and you groan at the pull.
It brings your elbows swinging down, right over your face, as the writhing of your body falls completely out of your conscious control. You look up at him through half-open lashes, mouth open, cheeks burning hot. And he pulls out of you.
The lack of friction, the emptiness, is displeasing, and you whine, a light, “no-“
“I told you where to keep your hands,” Erwin says darkly.
It silences you. Erwin lets your leg down, and reaches for your bound hands. He unties the cord, and you exhale.
“Let’s try it again,” he says, in a dangerous, guttural growl. “Get up on your knees.”
Sitting up between his legs takes a moment, turning your wrists, massaging the blood flow back. You tilt your head up at him, trying to read his expression in the cut candlelight before he leans his face close to you. Erwin cradles your face in his hands, and leans in to give you a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips, the smooth stone of the tie in his palm pressing into your jaw.
“Turn around,” he whispers, and when you move on your knees, continues, “and hands behind your back.”
You do, feeling the returning ache down your arms, the tightness at your wrists as he wraps the cords of the tie back around you. The weight of the stone falls between your constricted thumbs when he lets go, putting his hands on your shoulders to guide you back onto his lap. You whimper, and he kisses the side of your cheek. You turn your head at the cue, meeting his lips again as one hand moves down to grab at your bound fingers.
Another nonverbal message. Trust me.
Erwin gives you little time to adjust, thighs splaying over his, before he thrusts up into you so quickly, so fully, that your breath cuts immediately sharp and shallow. The sensation spreads warm through your body, and you lean back, fully collapsing into his chest, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. The sweaty shags of his hair prick against your ear with the force of his strokes, thighs slapping against yours as he fucks up into you. He’s moving fast and deep, pounding against a sweet spot right up in your core that makes you grind your hips into him. It’s so hard your mouth cannot close, the breath pushing sharp out of you in a series of small, soft moans.
The hand at yours tightens, his other coming to brace you at your stomach, pushing against your lower belly right where his cock hits you. You groan, a rough “fuck!” at the sensation of his hand ribbing against the motions. You swing your head down, looking into your lap, at your cunt spread wide over him. It’s so erotic, so satisfying, to watch the gleam of his slick cock move into you, coated with your own arousal. You tighten and throb over him.
“Erwin, Erwin, oh fuck…”
It feels hot, everything melting down inside you as he thrusts fast and hard upward into you.
Without warning, his hand slides again, groping against your chest as he turns his head and kisses, clumsily, erratically, up the side of your throat to your cheek. You moan his name again as he rolls your nipple between his fingers, shaking over his cock when he moves to the other.
“You’re getting – too – loud,” Erwin grunts in your ear, and then his hand is up again, on your shoulder to guide you down. His thighs rise behind you, hands tight and coaxing you face-down into the bed. The pillow is soft and muffling, and his cock pulls out just to the tip as he adjusts his knees over you. Trying to raise your own hips to bring him back is futile.
“Please…” you whimper, feeling yourself clench over nothing, body begging for him back.
He slides into you with a groan, as deep as he can go all at once, and your word cuts off in a gasp.
With your hands bound behind your back and anchored by his own hold, Erwin fucks you slowly now. The friction is almost your undoing, to have him stretch you again, even so slow. Agonisingly, teasingly. His cock rubs against some sensitive spot and you moan, pressing your face into the pillow, restlessly turning from side to side. Your tongue is heavy and wet in your own mouth. You squeeze your knees together, hands straining beneath the cords rubbing your skin raw under his brutally strong grip.
This is a most commanding Erwin, an Erwin who holds you roughly and fucks you deep.
“I’m – I’m really close – “ you gasp, trying to turn your head back to see him.
“I know you are,” Erwin says in a groan. He lets go of your wrists, smearing sweaty fingers slowly down across the small of your back to grab your hips. It gives him leverage, sliding his cock faster into you as your shoulders strain into the bed. “I am, too.”
You shudder as his touch. The temperature of your face rises even higher, heart drumming in your ears as he fucks your swollen, overstimulated cunt and holds you down. Your elbows slip, dragging down over the side of your ribs, the pulling at your shoulders throbbing down to your bound wrists. The trembling all over your body becomes more violent, more pointed, something wet dripping down your thigh with each thrust.
The next moan is too much for you to hold back.
“You’re…too… loud,” Erwin says again, his own voice hitching, some sharp edge rising in it. “Shit-“
You can hear it too, the reverberating footsteps against the stairs ascending to the landing. You moan, turning your face into the pillow. The saliva that falls from your open mouth cools quickly, sticking against the fabric with each shake of your body, with each of his thrusts. The blood rushes everywhere beneath your skin, and your moan again.
He shushes you as the jaunty voices rise, continuing as they unlock the neighboring room.
“Be quiet,” Erwin whispers, low as his cock presses into you and stills. It’s so hot between your legs, and you shake.
Someone’s right behind that thin wall, but you’re pulsating, your inner muscles clenching over him. The words continue, a conversation punctuated by laughter - and he’s moving again, hands hard, lifting your hips higher and pushing him deep into you as he leans over your back, bound fingers flattened against his stomach.
“You’re so tight,” Erwin whispers, his voice guttural and low, so raw in your ear it makes you tremble. “Someone’s there, and you’re squeezing me so tightly.”
You bite into the pillow with a drooling open mouth, trying to keep the sounds from rising. You know, you can feel those inner muscles twitching, and his hard hands pulling at your ass begin to slide you back and forth, slowly, gently over his cock. The rubbing of him against your inner walls, the bruising press of his fingers into your hips and moving you, it – it just makes you want to scream.
“Can you still come? Come, come on.”
Erwin’s softly moaning encouragement increases, the words broken between pants for breath. The tightness in your muscles flutters as you breathe weakly into the pillow. The muffled voices continue as he works you closer and closer to climax.
It’s all over when Erwin reaches around you, squeezing your upper arm and forcing his hand down between your body and the bed, dancing over your stomach, your hips, and finding your clit. If you can barely hear the neighboring conversation, they absolutely can hear the “Oh!” that rocks out of you with every ministration of his finger, pressing hard, fast circles into you. The heat between your legs increases, your body rocking with his against the mattress. You’re clenching over him hard and desperately, his breath sharp hisses in your ear. It’s so hot right behind your stomach, his cock, his fingers, pushing it higher through you.
You cry his name, arms bound and stiff under his body as Erwin makes you reach that peak, and you come with shudders, muscles spasming and shaking. The ecstasy roars through you so hot you could burn, heart hammering in erratic rhythm in time with the throbbing of your clit under his still-moving fingers. Your breaths are shallow and fast, the words sliding into a verbal mess.
And Erwin keeps going, groaning in your ear as you tremble between his chest and still-circling fingers over your swollen clit. His thrusts come shorter, hips colliding into yours, every movement becoming more urgent. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to stifle the broken whimpers still falling from you, and feel the fears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of your eyes.
He chases his orgasm with a hoarse cry of your own name, a moment of reckless abandon. Your throbbing inner muscles squeeze weakly around his cock as he comes, rushing up through you as his body finally stills with a last thrust. Erwin collapses on top of you, and your gasping groan is one of pain as the weight of his body tugs your arms apart further than the binding can bear. He catches his breath for a moment, and you whimper again.
The neighboring room has fallen silent.
Erwin lets out a sigh and slides his slick cock out of you. You moan softly at the sensation, at his hands pushing soft over you, down to rub at the back of your thighs and up again. He sits up, leaning off you, and his hands come to yours, tugging at the bolo tie and setting you free. Your arms collapse, stinging and cold against the sheets.
It takes effort for you to roll onto your side, sliding your shoulder down against the cool wall, sweat on your skin staggering you down. Erwin takes your weak hands in his and lifts them to his face, his lips almost burning kisses against the indented, discolored skin as he settles on his side next to you. His chest heaves with beath and he massages his thumbs against your skin. His eyes glimmer at you, heavy, sparkling blue.
“It feels better,” you say after a few moments.
He kisses your curled fingers – a silent sorry, thank you - once more, twice.
“We might get more complaints,” he says, only a mild reprimand in his voice.
“Sorry,” you say, not fully meaning it.
You slide a hand free, to run up, shakily through the loose strands of blond hair, thumb catching against the shorter edges of his undercut. Erwin wraps an arm around the small of your back to coax you close to his chest, letting go of your other hand to tug at the necklace.
He kisses your forehead, and you feel the weight of the charm slide down to your shoulder, to the sheets.
“Do you want to get dinner now, or later?” Erwin asks, his hand stroking gently against your back. A fingernail lightly traces against your spine, and you shiver into him. It must be night by now.
“Not quite yet,” you say, a little drowsily as the words accent with a sigh. You let your hand leave his hair, down his arm, fingers running over the muscles and scars, and then back up to run through the undercut again. “Later… will you stay tonight?”
“Of course,” he says, thumb rubbing at your waist, and you hear the breath catch in his throat as he pauses. In the shadows, he swallows, his neck shifting in the dim light. “I might have to leave early in the morning.”
Again, unspoken is the apology.
“I know, Commander,” you say, letting the forgiveness weigh through the words.
“Then let’s eat soon.”
You don’t move yet, though, neither of you, and nothing more is said as you lie there still catching your breath. Erwin holds on to you, and you to him, sliding your leg between his, your bodies tied together in gentle embrace. He exhales heavily, leaning in and kissing your cheek. You tilt your face to him, slightly, just enough for him to press his warm, soft lips to yours. The kiss leaps from soft and sweet to passionate, breaking the knot of your bodies only when you both need air.
Fin.
Author's note: This was written for my 2021 Valentine's Day special, where I ran a poll of 20 characters and Erwin was the number-one winner. I see Erwin as a soft-dom, so to speak, and that’s how I wanted to write him. The soap scent I described comes from the Japanese brand Koubutsu-ya’s fragrance inspired by Erwin, which is described as “woodlands with deeper hints of rose, amber, and spice.” And I know there’s the song lyric “tied up with strings,” I just personally liked “in” for the title.
i feel very bad whenever i unfollow people in here but can't keep them if they're making me want to cry in disgust cause i'm a failure and i'll never be nice as everyone else is 😄
nsfw. blowjob, smack on the face, implied daddy kink??, soft dom!bruno.
i'm back, i guess.
bruno can’t help. you look so cute with your smudged lipstick, your lips around his cock and your pretty fingernails on his thighs. your eyes are shining just like your chin is because of your effort to suck him like a good girl, pleading eyes that almost beg for some rudeness. your hair is in a messy bun he did before you started to use your fluffy lips on his dick, your tits are free from your bra and tank top, and he plays with your nipples—it’s so cute when you choke on his length because you’re moaning with his touches. precious baby, so needy. you keep looking at him, waiting for something he doesn’t know yet. “tell me what you need, baby,” he asks you as you bob your head on his cock, tongue curling and pressing his sensitive flesh. you’re ready to say it, to beg bruno to give you a… and he thrusts into your mouth, the tip of his erection finding your throat. you cry, tears leaving your shining eyes, and bruno finds you even more adorable. he will absolutely put a gag on your pretty mouth when fucking you dumb. “hmm,” is the only thing you’re able to say, but he wants, needs to know. how is he going to give what you want if you don’t say it? “say it, hm? i’m waiting”, he slows down his thrusts and you breathe, ready to take his cock out of your mouth and say you need him to— “aw! dumb baby can’t say because she has her mouth full of my cock?”, he pushes once more into you, but pulls out, only the tip between your lips. his palm hits your face suddenly and you widen your eyes and lick the precum of his dick. how did he know about it? you didn’t even need to ask him. bruno is the best, best, best ever. he watches your expression becoming a delighted one and smiles softly, contrasting with his hand hitting your cheeks once more and his mean words. “i think i need to teach you manners, don’t i? you’re looking like a little hoe that has no brain, just mouth, tits and holes for me to use.” you nod, putting his length back into your mouth as he pets your head. “cutie. you’re doing very good,” he praises and you feel proud and satisfied. you don’t need anything else but bruno’s approval and his large hand smacking you.
Monster Trio + Law ~ What Ring Would They Choose To Propose? ~
I know not everybody is into marriage, but I was looking at some rings with a friend last night and couldn't help but think little scenarios of how and what rings these babes would chose to propose to his lover ♥. - I might add more in the future if you like it ~
✨ Trafalgar D. Water Law ✨
Of course, he wanted the ring to have a heart. Law associates hearts to the most precious things in life, it’s not surprising he would like to show them how important they are for him. Law fought against the idea of marriage for so long, due to his profound fear of losing them. His trauma made him think that everyone who loved him ended up dead or suffering, so when he finally asked them... a million chains broke inside of him… and he was finally free ♥
✨ Monkey D. Luffy ✨
Luffy found this precious ring that resembles a Sun at Laugh Tale. He cherished the jewel on his shorts and forgot about it for some time. One day, Luffy and his lover were spending some time under the shiny sun of a summer island. The gum gum boy was lying on their lap, chatting about random stuff. He was spellbound by his lover's smile under the sun, when he reached for one of the pockets of his shorts unwillingly. A spiky little thing poked his finger. He took it out to know what it was and realized it was the ring he found at Laugh Tale. “(Name)... I held this for some time and let destiny decide when it was time for me to give it to you...” ♥
✨ Roronoa Zoro ✨
Zoro wasn’t even thinking about proposing when he got lost on that island. It was extremely hot so he laid over a wall to rest for a second under some shadow. Zoro looked to the side and discovered the place was a jewelry store. Something green immediately caught his eye. “That’s so pretty… It looks like me and they… well, I think is time then ♥ ” (It was time, but it took Zoro at least a day to find and ask them)
✨Sanji ✨
He has dreamt about this moment since forever. The cook spent almost two months planning how the proposal would go and doubted everything. But what he had always had for sure is what ring his lover would receive. And that ring would be Sora’s ring. This isn’t the one Judge gave to her -she actually “lost” it before getting sick- but this was the ring that she inherited from his ancestors. Reiju gave it to Sanji some months ago when she met them. She was so excited that told his brother about her holding this treasure. She always knew Sanji was the one who would need it.
Sanji chose a full moon night for popping the question, mainly because he has discovered how the Sapphires shine under it in a very special way, resembling waves. Perhaps that’s how the All Blue looks… ♥
a/n: for my love @pure-kirarin who requested a pretty lolita reader for sabo! sorry not sorry about the length, this was so fun!
masterlist
“Needs more ruffles.”
You tear your gaze away from the book in your hands, realizing a young man with a scared face and top hat is looking at you.
Well, more so looking at your dress.
It was a warm summer day with a slight wind, making it perfect to sit on the patio at the little café down the street from your apartment. You planned on enjoying the morning with a cup of tea and your new book.
It also felt like the right day to try out your new dress. It had a moderately fluffy skirt made of a pretty pink and blue fabric, your favorite part being the dozens of bows that lined the edge.
“Excuse me?”
The young man’s eyes immediately widen, as if just realizing he said the thought out loud, “I’m so sorry!” He removes his hat and bows slightly before taking the seat across from you, “I didn’t mean any offense!”
You let your eyes roam the strange man who’s disturbed your quiet morning. Now that he’s removed his hat, you can see the ruffled blonde locks underneath that fall into his eyes. The scar covering his face looking to be an insanely painful burn at one point, although you think it makes him look a little more handsome.
He’s fiddling with the hat that now lays on the table. There are an interesting pair of goggles wrapped around it. They match the deep blue of his shirt that is tied of by a pure white cravat around his neck.
“That last thing you need is a man commenting on your outfit.” He rubs the back of his neck looking ashamed, “I’m just a fan of ruffles.” He flicks the cravat as if to defend his point.
And while he’s not wrong, the pink staining his cheeks is a little endearing. And he does seem to be a man of taste, taking in the style of his clothing again and that’s when it clicks.
“Are you a Lolita, too?”
“What?” He cocks his head, “No, I’m-”
“Sabo! Espresso for Sabo!”
He flashes an apologetic smile before quickly retrieving the drink from the window, coat tail swaying with his movement.
“I should have asked if I could sit.” He says standing in front of the chair with drink in hand. You motion to the chair, “I’m not usually so abrupt.” He holds out a hand, “Sabo.”
You set your book down, accepting his hand, “(Y/N).”
“That’s beautiful.” Once again Sabo looks bewildered at what he just said out loud, “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what’s come over me.” He mumbles, seeming more like he’s berating himself.
But your laugh sounds like a tinkling bell and Sabo starts to piece together why his composure is out the window.
“Well, I think Sabo is just as beautiful.” You rest your cheek in your hand, thinking the way he ducks his head at your compliment might be the most bashful and cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
He clears his throat, before taking a sip of from the cup in his hands, “You were asking me a question?”
“Oh, I just assumed you were familiar with Lolita.”
“No, but I’d love to know more.” He glances down at the book in your hands, “If you have time, that is.”
You smile, sticking your pink glittered bookmark in the pages, “It’s a Japanese fashion style with Victorian influences. There’s lots of different substyles, but it mainly stems from the motive of rebelling against traditional expectations of gender and style.”
“A fashion revolution. I love it.”
You can feel your cheeks heat up under his praise, “I suppose.” You clear your throat and quickly glance at your hands before back to him, “Your outfit kind of reminds me of the style.”
“Really?” Sabo leans forward, excitement clear in his voice, “My brothers usually tell me I look like a stuck-up renaissance festival employee.” You try to cover the snort that escapes you, but you don’t feel too embarrassed when Sabo laughs along with you, “I’m serious! They’ve been saying it since we were kids!”
“I’m going to assume they’re not too familiar with the Renaissance era? Because your outfit is definitely not a part of it.”
“They’re more likely to be familiar with the food than the fashion.” And Sabo feels butterflies erupt in his stomach when you giggle behind your hand.
“Well, we all have our interests.” A ding from your purse interrupts the moment, and you shoot Sabo an apologetic look before seeing it was the reminder you set to not spend all day at the little café.
“I’m sorry.” Sabo cuts in, “I should probably let you return to your day.”
“No!” You say a little too quickly with a wave of the hand, “It’s nothing, really.”
“You don’t have to make excuses.” Sabo smiles, “This conversation has already made morning much more pleasant.”
A pit forms in your stomach at the thought of this handsome and curious man walking out of your life, and you’re about to do something to keep that from happening, but it Sabo beats you to it.
“I’d love to do it again, if you’re interested that is?”
.
“I think I’m in love.”
Miles apart, three different people look up from what they’re doing at the lovesick fool who’s just returned home.
“That’s nice. I love you too.”
Sabo narrows his eyes, “Shut up.” He says, throwing his hat at Ace’s face who easily catches it.
“Was it a doughnut?” Luffy asks, eyes glued back to the video game displayed on the television, “Did you bring us any?”
“No Luffy, it wasn’t a doughnut.” Sabo collapses on the sofa, falling against Ace, “It was the most gorgeous woman I’ve everseen.”
Ace rolls his eyes, trying to shove his brother off him, “Please don’t start.”
“Yeah!” Luffy laughs, “You always sound like Sanji whenever you fall in love.” He mocks with a kissy face and teasing tone.
“Probably didn’t even talk to her.” Ace laughs along, reaching out to pinch Sabo’s cheek.
Sabo bats at his hand and shoots off the couch, “I did! And we even exchanged numbers!” Pulling out the pretty stationary you had delicately written your number on, “See!”
Ace swats at the paper being shoved in his face, “Well, you gonna text her or keep bugging us about it?”
.
“And he had the cutest smile every time he laughed.” You sighed, clutching a teddy bear to your chest.
Perona leans forward, “He laughed at your jokes?”
You purse your lips and send a glare to Perona, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Horo, horo, horo! I think he likes you! And I think you should message him!”
You sit up in the chair, one of her dolls clutched in your lap, “You think so?”
“If any man is going to take a seat unprompted at a café, of course they like you!”
You chew on your thumb, thinking over Perona’s words. Sabo was really sweet, and he’d be great to see again, plus he asked for your number. What’s the harm in reaching out first?
Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone, already thinking over what to say but, “Oh my god.”
“What! What!” Perona jumps on top of you, trying to get a peek at your screen, before letting out a delighted scream when she sees what’s popped up.
It was a pleasure getting to spend my morning with you, would you be interested in getting together again?
.
“(Y/N)!” Perona sings, “You have a caller!”
Your eyes widen in the mirror when Perona’s voice echoes down the hallway.
It had been almost a week of messaging back and forth with Sabo, discussing everything under the sun, and with each ding of a message you felt yourself falling deeper and deeper.
He eventually asked you to grab a cup of coffee and take a walk with him through the park.
Giving yourself a once last look in the mirror you flash yourself a smile. You decided to go with a light green dress with delicate floral stitching along the side, perfect for the blooming spring weather and definitely not because it was your dress with the most ruffles that Sabo seemed to like.
Running to the living room, you see Perona is leaning over the edge of the couch with a devious grin on her face, and Sabo, who’s standing at the door with an awkward smile. He’s tightly gripping a bouquet of flowers that seems to be his only anchor.
“Perona?” She looks at you, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Not really.” She teases.
“Well, how about you find somewhere to be?” You shoot back just as sickeningly sweet.
Perona sticks out her tongue and stomps to the hallway, but not without a wink before she disappears around the wall.
“Sorry about her.” You apologize, hoping she didn’t scare him too much as you see his shoulders relax when it’s just the two of you.
“These are for you.” He abruptly thrusts the bouquet towards you.
“Oh! Thank you.” You accept the bouquet with a shy smile, taking a moment to examine the delicate petals, “How’d you know peonies were my favorite?”
Sabo rubs the back of his head, “They just reminded me of you, uhm, pretty and fluffy.”
Your heart skips at his words, almost melting “Let me just put these in some water.” You say and quickly run to the kitchen, pulling out a random vase under the sink.
“It’s like a doll house in here.” Sabo comments, looking around the living room that has piles of stuffed plushies and blankets everywhere.
“Perona.” Sabo hears you say, looking over his shoulder to see you have returned with his flowers in a pink vase that you set on the table, “She loves them. And they’re pretty nice to cuddle with during a scary movie.”
“You a fan?”
A scoff escapes your lips, “No way. But Perona loves creepy shit just as much as she loves her dolls.”
“My little brother’s the same way.” Sabo laughs, “He’s always begging to watch some new horror film, and always ends up in my bed because of his nightmares.”
“Keep away all the big monsters from your kid brother?”
He rolls his eyes, “Not much of kid seeing how he’s in high school, just a cry baby.” And Sabo can feel his stomach flip when you try to hide your laughter behind your hand, definitely something he could listen to everyday for the rest of his life.
He offer’s his arm, “Ready to go?”
.
After grabbing a couple hot drinks from a little vendor, Sabo leads around his favorite park in the city. Showing you where he’s hosted rallies before and explains how he’ll usually spend his weekends pestering people for petition signatures.
“It’s a coalition building organization.” Sabo says with a smile, “I help other organizers form partnerships to advocate for likeminded change.”
“Huh.” You take a sip from you cup, “I didn’t know things like that existed.”
“There’s not a lot of us, and it’s long hours with little pay.” He shrugs, “But when we have success? It’s so worth it.”
“Well, the world needs more people like you.”
The dazzling smile you flash has Sabo almost spilling his coffee, and he can feel his cheeks heating up at your praise, “Want to sit?” He asks, hoping the change of subject will distract from his flustered state.
After guiding both of you to a bench he takes a look at your outfit, “I like this dress.”
“Oh, thank you!” You pat at the skirt a bit, “It’s one of my own.”
Sabo stops in his tracks, “You made this?”
You nod, “I usually pair a lot of premade things together, but this one I made all on my own.”
“It looks so professional!”
“Well, I have my roommate to thank. She taught me everything I know about stitching.”
“I’m impressed.” Sabo laughs, “Definitely a skill that could have come in handy when I was growing up.”
“Maybe you can come with me when I buy fabric next time.” You mention off handed.
Sabo leans forward with excited eyes, “Could I really?”
“I mean, if you really want to.”
“I’d love to get a further peek into your world.” Sabo stretches an arm along the bench, conveniently resting against your back, “Now tell me how long it took to learn how to sew.”
.
A few days later you make plans with Sabo to take him to your favorite fabric store and decided you would stop by his place first. And if it just so happened you had made some extra strawberry cupcakes that he said were his favorite, it would be a crime not to bring a few. Definitely didn’t wake up early this morning to bake them.
Sabo lives in an apartment complex on the top floor, something that he and his brothers were very excited about after seeing the view. Locating the apartment number, you rap your knuckles against the door.
Which immediately swings open, a boy who can’t be older than fifteen starring at you with his hand in a bag of chips. You’re about to introduce yourself, but he beats you to it, “Sabo!” He screams, “Your girlfriend’s here!”
You feel your heart skip before the sound of crash follows and Sabo appears, pulling the younger boy by the back of the shirt. He’s furiously whisper shouting at the boy who just continues to shove food in his mouth.
“If she’s not your girlfriend, why do you dress the same?”
“Why don’t you go bother Ace or something?” Sabo grits through his teeth, shoving the younger boy towards the hallway, who just laughs it off and starts screaming for Ace.
Sabo takes a calming breath before turning on his heel and flashes you an apologetic grin, rubbing the back of his head, “Sorry about that, Luffy doesn’t have a filter.”
“I made cupcakes.” You offer awkwardly, unable to comment on the scene. But you do notice he didn’t outwardly deny the allegation.
Sabo’s face splits into a grin, “I bet they’re as sweet as you.” And he loves the way your nose scrunches when you roll your eyes, “I better hide them.” He accepts them and motions for you to follow in, “Otherwise my brothers will get to them.”
You trail after him into the kitchen and watch as he puts them in the way back of the refrigerator, but not before pulling one out of the container.
“Luffy?” You ask, remembering the young boy’s name.
Sabo nods, “And Ace. I’m surprised the scent of these cupcakes hasn’t drawn them out already.”
You giggle, watching as Sabo enjoys the treats you made, a little too much if the frosting on his cheeks is anything to go by, “You have a little something.” You point to his cheek.
“Here?” He asks, wiping the wrong side.
“Let me-” You step closer, hand reaching out to swipe at the frosting with a thumb, and then, just the tip brushing against his lip. Pulling back, you suck the sugar of your finger, grinning when you see him swallow thickly.
“(Y/N), I-”
“Oooo, wow!” You jump back when a voice from behind calls loudly, followed by a teasing whistle, “So you’re the one Sabo hasn’t been able to shut up about.”
“Ace.” Sabo growls, “What do you want?”
“Luffy said we had company, thought I’d introduce myself.” The muscular shirtless man turns to you, a glint in his eye when he takes you in, “Portgas D. Ace.” He stretches out a hand, “Sorry you had the pleasure of meeting this one before me.” He says with a wink.
You raise a brow at his brazen flirting in front of his brother, but side glancing at Sabo you see he’s more embarrassed than annoyed.
“I don’t know, I’m pretty happy with the way things worked out.” You rest a hand on Sabo’s bicep, giving Ace an unimpressed once over, “I appreciate a man who knows how to dress.”
Sabo’s face goes scarlet while Ace hollers with laughter, “You found good one, Sabo!”
“We’re leaving.” Sabo places a hand on the small of your back, quickly leading you from the kitchen, “And you better not touch any of those cupcakes, Luffy!” You see Sabo’s younger brother crouched with his hand stretched into the fridge.
“Aww!”
“I’m really sorry about them. There’s a reason I don’t take them out in public.” Sabo apologizes while you both ride the elevator down.
“They seem very sweet.” You smile at Sabo, “You’re lucky to have each other.”
Sabo shrugs, “Most of the time.” He glances at you, “Definitely not so lucky when they’re embarrassing me in front of a pretty girl.”
You bite your lip, “I’d say you’re still doing okay.”
“Yeah?” Sabo asks.
“Yeah.” You nod back.
.
Sabo doesn’t get overwhelmed too easily, and it’s something he’s proud of. But when you pull him into the fabric store, he won’t lie that it’s a lot to take in.
Walls stacked with different colors from floor to ceiling, bins full of buttons and needles and other things he doesn’t know the name for.
But you lead him to the back of the store where your favorite apparel fabric is displayed.
“I usually use these blends.” Your hand traces over the delicate bundles, walking deeper into the aisle, “I like the quality and texture.”
“This one’s nice.” Sabo points out.
Looking over your shoulder you see he’s holding a deep blue fabric in his hands. Reaching out, you bring the bolt closer to his face to get a comparison, “I think it would look really good on you.”
Sabo’s eyes widen, “What? Oh no! I was thinking for you.”
“No really.” You eye the fabric in his hands, trying to gage how much is there, “I think a coat would work well from this!” You glance back up, “Will you let me make you one?”
Sabo feels himself flush under your hopeful stare, and his heart twists at the thought of denying you anything, “I mean, if you really want to.”
“I do!” Your hand wraps around his before pulling him to the cut counter to get a few yards of fabric, “And if I get your measurements tonight, I can have it done in a week or two!”
Before he knows it, you’ve already talked him into letting you make an entire suit. And now you’ve got him in your bedroom as your rifle through your sewing box trying to locate a tape measure.
It’s nice to see your own little flare of style. It’s clear the patchwork plushies are more your roommate’s décor, whereas your room reminds him of the way you dress. Lots of lace and bows, pretty colors everywhere, and the peonies he gifted you the other day still proudly displayed on your dresser.
“I need you to undress.” You say without looking up from your sewing box, not trying to locate something to jot down his numbers on.
There’s the sound of clothes ruffling behind, and you a little squeak of happiness escapes you when you finally locate your flowered notebook.
“Okay!” You jump to your feet and twirl around, “I’ll just need to get some inseams and lengths, shouldn’t take too…” But you trail off at the sight you’re greeted with.
“I hope this will suffice.” Sabo breaks the silence, a dark pink staining his cheeks but still holding an intense eye contact.
You couldn’t even stop the way your eyes hungrily roam his figure if you wanted. He’s only dressed in his briefs, giving you quite the sight of his toned chest. It seems the scar on his face stretches down his neck and along his arm and torso. You realize you haven’t seen much of his skin before now, noticing how the healed flesh tappers off near his thigh, only specks of where his injury must have occurred.
Your eyes settle at his feet, and you can’t stop the giggles that escape.
Sabo coughs, “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.”
Your eyes fly to his, “Oh, no! I didn’t, not like that! I just, your socks are cute.”
He wiggles his fabric covered toes, adorned with little pirate ships, “My brothers have matching pairs.” And he relaxes a bit when he hears you giggle again.
“Arms up please.” You ask, showing the form with your own arms until he copies.
You pull the tape measure along his arm, your fingers pressed into his shoulder to hold the end. It gives you a chance to soak in his lean muscles, leaving a wake of goosebumps in your wake.
Sabo swallows to himself while you measure the other arm, and he feels his heart melt a little at the extra gentleness you’re providing to his scarred patches.
They don’t hurt, they haven’t for a long time. But to see you delicately resting your fingers against it stirs something in his chest.
You give a little twirl of your finger, motioning for him to spin. When he complies, you’re able to measure his back, and without his heated gaze bearing down at you, you allow the moment to soak in each bit of exposed skin. Your fingers digging into his flesh little more firmly then necessary.
Returning to his front, you flash a quick smile before focusing on his chest, which is easier said than done. Needing the measurements of his torso has you almost wrapping him up in a hug as you sling the tape measure around the back of his body to the circumference.
Sabo quickly glances to the ceiling when he feels your body so close to his own, trying to imagine anything that will keep him from breaking composure and throwing you on the bed.
“Okay there?” You tease, knowing he’s probably a little on edge.
“Huh?” Sabo meets your stare, “Of course! Never better.” He says with a giant smile.
Not breaking eye contact, you fall to your knees, face just in line with his slowly hardening cock right below the fabric that Sabo’s really hoping you don’t notice.
Just looking at you on your knees like that? With your tits spilling over the edge of your pink frilled bodice and skirt fanned out around in you, it’s like you’ve been ripped right out of his filthiest fantasies.
“Have to measure the leg.” You whisper, holding up the tape measure as if to prove it. To you or him you don’t know. It surely wasn’t necessary you got on your knees for this, let alone right in front of his cock.
You let your finger dance over his thighs, pulling the tape down to his ankle right where his pirate socks cuff off, and then doing the same to the other leg.
Sabo watches, a little disappointed, as you get back to your feet, pulling out the little notebook to scribble some numbers down.
“That all?” He asks, seeing that you’re rolling the tape measure back up.
You tap your finger to your chin, “I suppose I could get some sitting measurements.”
Sabo is more than happy to oblige, quickly situating himself on the edge of your bed. And you would feel bad about requesting measurements that you definitely don’t need, but it seems he’s just as eager to get into your bed as you are to have him there.
And it would seem fate would agree, as you stumble over something on the ground, falling against Sabo’s bare chest who naturally wraps his hands around you. But without his hands to brace himself, you both tumble back into the bed.
Your wide eyes meet his, and he looks more embarrassed even though you’re the one who fell right on top of him.
“Sorry, that might have been my fault.”
You peak over you shoulder and see his folded clothes a little askew from where your foot caught onto them. Turning back, you see Sabo has found interest elsewhere as his eyes are fixated on your breast that are pushed against his chest.
“You plan that?” You ask with a teasing glint, watching as his attention flicks back to you, not an ounce of embarrassment for being caught.
“If I said yes?”
“I’d be impressed.”
“And if I said no?” He mumbles, eyes hooded and drawn to your mouth.
“I’d say I’m pretty lucky.” You whisper back, leaning closer to his face.
“I think I’m the lucky one.” And then captures your lips in heated kiss, a cupping the back of you head to get the angle just right.
And maybe it’s been a while, or maybe you’re a little desperate for this man specifically, because the second his lips touch yours, you know you’re addicted.
Crawling further up his body you situate both thighs on either side of his groin, rising to your full height with a roll of hips as you pull away from the kiss.
And with the air, Sabo chokes on a gasp and swearing he can feel the heat of your cunt through his briefs. His hands grab at your hips, trying to slow the movement of your grinds.
Your fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, “I remember how much you said you like ruffles.” You chew on your lip watching Sabo’s mouth drop, with a fuck when he sees the blush pink panties you have on peaking from underneath your dress.
There’s row after row of little ruffles from the waist band all the way down to where the little wet spot from your soaked cunt is on display. Sabo swallows thickly, eyes transfixed.
“Well?” You ask, “What do you think?”
“I,” Sabo swallows the lump in his throat while nodding his head up and down, “Yes.”
You giggle at his loss for words, finally able to render the usually so composed man speechless.
“May I?” He asks with hands hovering over your panties. When you nod, he finally lets his fingers trace the hem, from one side of your hip to the next, before repeating the pattern on each ruffle. His fingers reach just above your clit and the delicate touch has you rocking your hips forward.
A whimper falls from your lips and Sabo’s stare drifts up to your face, your eyes clenched shut with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. His eyes drink in your expression, and he can’t stop his thumb from fully pressing down on your clit.
The sensation is jarring and unexpected, “Ahh!”
A lot happens at once with your eyes flying open and trying to unseat yourself, but Sabo sit ups and wraps an arm around your waist. He pulls you flush against his chest and redoubles the pressure of his fingers adding in the circling of his movements.
Your dampness seeping through the layers of fabric onto his throbbing cock, with your eyes widening and glistening, mouth dropped as you exhale. Sabo breathes in each little pant.
There’s no talking, just your occasional cries and his heavy breathing while you rut against his fingers. How quickly he’s gained the upper hand, pulling your strings like some familiar instrument.
“Sabo!” You cry suddenly, your hand letting go of the fabric to grip at his shoulder. Hoping it can tether you to earth, but it’s useless when his teeth sink into your neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing, slick completely soaking your little panties.
“That’s it.” Sabo groans into your ear, his own cock throbbing with each stutter of your hips. He can feel your panties dampening with each passing second as he pulls more and more pleasure form you, “So good for me, pretty girl.”
You whine at the praise, tightly wrapping yourself around his shoulders while he continues to work you over, exhaustion seeping into your bones.
He finally pulls his hand away, and even though you can’t see it, you hear the sinful sound of him sucking his fingers clean and it sends a heat through your body once more.
But even with the little flare, you’re too fucked out to move and you let Sabo lay you down on the bed. You hear the sound of clothes rustling, and when Sabo returns, face hovering just an inch from yours, you can feel his hardened and bare cock pressing into the meat of your thigh. Slippery with what you’re sure is his precum marking your leg.
“Look at me.” He whispers, cupping your cheeks between his hand, “You want this?”
“Yes.” You answer, you’re roving over every feature on his face. His scar looking so much softer in the dim light of your room.
“Good, me too.” Sabo smiles, letting go of your cheeks. And then you feel his fingers pulling at your panties, and you shift your legs to help. Wanting to speed things up, your own hands start to untie the bows at your chest, trying to make quick work of the bodice.
“No.” Sabo’s hands crush your fingers between his, “Leave it on.” He chokes out, pupils blown wide with desire.
You raise a brow, “Like the ruffles that much?”
And even though Sabo just wrecked your poor body moments ago with an intense orgasm, he still has the audacity to look bashful when you tease.
“I don’t want it to wrinkle.”
“Right.” You roll your eyes, thinking that if his earlier ministrations were any indication of how his fucking will be, you doubt you’ll ever be able to iron some of the impending creases.
His hands run up your legs, feeling the soft skin past your stockings adorn them. And then his fingers are digging into your thighs, lifting them until their almost pushed against your chest, skirt fanning around your tummy making your cunt look like some unwrapped present.
You both moan in unison when his cock runs along your soaked folds, catching at the little bundle of nerves that has you keening.
“Please Sabo.”
His cock rests at your entrance, just barely nudging in, “Say it again.”
“Sabo?” You asks, a haze of pleasure clouding you when he slides an inch in.
“Again.” He growls, regripping your thighs and scooting closer on his knees.
Your hands grab for his shoulders, trying to pull him closer for a kiss, “Sab-ohh!” A cry is ripped from your throat when he bottoms out in one go, filling you completely and splitting you in half.
The little gasps and whimpers fall from your lips on their own as you try to adjust to this pleasurable pressure. And just as you’re comprehending this invasion, Sabo pulls back before thrusting just as harshly with a feral grin.
The sound of fabric ruffling, and the wet slapping fills the room as Sabo starts a brutal pace that has you seeing starts and crying out in pleasure.
And he’s thrilled with the look of ecstasy on your face. The cries you can’t keep in and how you have your eyes screwed shut, unable to even look at him with the way he’s roughly handling your body and how your pretty nails are probably leaving scratches along his shoulder with how deeply you’re cutting into him.
And there’s a far off sound. Something you miss, too consumed with the pleasure thrumming through your veins.
But Sabo stills his movements, cocking his head for a moment, before a devious smile spreads over his face, “Sounds like your roommate’s home.” Your eyes widen and hand flies to your mouth but Sabo intercepts it and moves it back to his shoulder, “I like your hands on me.”
Your eyes shine with confusion, “B… but,” You trail off, unable to articulate your fear.
“Can’t keep quiet, can you?” He asks with faked pity, clearly ingenuine when he pairs the question with a little thrust that has a squeak spilling from your mouth. But he doesn’t miss the way your tight cunt clenches at his words, “Oh?” Sabo raises a brow, “Seems like you don’t mind.”
Sabo rolls his hips with a deliciously slow thrust, causing a deep groan to erupt from your throat. There was nothing you could do to stop it, even as it continues, his words and movements are too much.
Then he pulls out completely, his cock just kissing your entrance before harshly plowing back in with one go. You know Perona is definitely about to hear the scream that will tear from you throat in just a second, and your body should be flushing with shame but you only feel a sharp tingle run down your spine at the thought.
Just as suddenly as Sabo bottomed out in your cunt, something fills your mouth that was wide open.
Eyes flying to Sabo you catch the feral look in his stare, but you’re a little more concerned with the overwhelming taste of yourself. And that’s when you piece it together, he’s stuffed your panties in your mouth to shut you up.
A muffled cry comes from you, and Sabo must anticipate your resistance because he presses the drenched fabric a little deeper until you’re almost choking on them, and then his fingers are bruising into your biceps to keep your arms locked around his neck, “I told you to keep your hands on me, didn’t I?”
His thrusts have been continuing at the same slow and complete withdrawal before harshly seating himself back in, and you can only hold on as he continues this sweet torture with the occasional whimper is stifled through your panties.
“Need you to be quiet, love.” He presses sweet kisses along your cheeks and to where the tears are gathering in your lash line, “Can’t be making a bad impression.” His pace stutters when he pulls out a little too quickly, “Plan on being here every night.” Sabo bites back a groan, eyes glued to where you’re sucking in his cock, “To fill this little cunt. Right?”
“Mhmm.” You nod your head, trying to discreetly roll your hips in time with his, desperate for something faster than this, especially when you’re so close to the edge.
“Good girl.” He presses a kiss to you forearm, “Now don’t move these hands, okay?”
You nod again, fingers sliding to his hair to have something to hold on to, and it must have been the right move because Sabo lets out a deep groan, losing his pace just for a moment. And the twinkle in your eye might be the death of him.
Knowing he won’t last much longer, Sabo hikes one of your legs higher up his hip, the other hand finding your clit and starting a quick pace of circle.
The sensation makes you throw your head back, chest pushed forward and your teeth clench on the wet panties in your mouth, hoping you can hold back the moans that are stuck in your throat.
Sabo can feel you’re close, the tight clenching of your cunt a tell-tale sign of your impending release. With a renewed vigor, his pace quickens and thumb swipes over your clit one last time before you feel yourself fall over the edge once more.
And Sabo thinks you’re really trying to cut off his cock with how tightly you grip him. But after a few more thrusts, he’s pulling out, his hand swiftly taking over on his cock with a few tugs and then spilling himself all over your thighs.
“Fuck.” He groans, cataloging the sight of your drooling cunt and his cum that’s dripping down the flesh of your legs, some of it having landed on your pretty dress he demanded you keep on.
His eyes flick to your face, pleased to see your panties still stuffed in your mouth as you try to calm your heart from the tremendous orgasm that just wrecked your body.
You feel him crawl up your body, hands squeezing reassuringly at your waist before his face comes into view.
“You did so good for me.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before pulling the panties from your mouth. Sabo watches hungrily as you lick your lips, trying to reestablish some moisture in your mouth, his cock painfully twitching at the sight.
Your eyes are still focused on the ceiling before flicking to Sabo who’s laying on his side looking at you, “Wow.”
Sabo flashes you a smile that you’re sure you’re mirroring on your own face, before he pulls you against his bare chest, heart thrumming in your ear.
“Sabo?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you still wearing your pirate socks?” You see his fabric clad toes wiggling at the end of the bed.
A laugh rumble in his chest and you feel a kiss pressed on the crown of your head, “Didn’t want you to feel too overdressed, love.”
