A ghost in the snow

夏日玫瑰盛開 / 花瓣飛, 飛, 飛 / 我不會再等待 “I am / the angel who sweep air in and out my own / dancing body.”

[sanjis-angel]

“I am persimmon falling free and the prisoner opening up in me.” — Angela Jackson, Angel

♡ about me ♡ #my art - #my writing

the name is ghost; 24, italian, they/them (agender), hindu i speak italian, english, spanish, russian and a little arabic ♡ dni: radfems, zionists, pro ai, antis and harassers ♡ main blog: @river-demon

♡ about the self-insert/oc ♡

the name is jeanne; 24, she/they (agender) ♡ ate the hito hito no mi, model barachiel (fictional) which grants her all the qualities of a seraphim: ethereal appearance, a white light aura, two large wings and the abililty to perform any miracle told in the catholic bible. ♡ her parents were part of a cult when they found the fruit and fed it to the newborn in order to make them the new beacon of the group; they died some years after, and her new guardian and cult leader kept her hidden to the world in order to continue exploiting her abilities; the strawhat crew stumbled upon the island by chance, listening to her story by her grated window, and all agreed to rescue her. ♡ having nowhere to go and nothing on their name but a couple of books and a deep desire to see what's more to the world, she agrees to tag along the pirates - luffy was the first to offer, but sanji was the first to sing his joy as a pretty girl was joining them; through patience and gentleness, they finally manage to open up to the crew, and especially to the loving cook who seems to tolerate every dark day of her. ♡ friendships: all of the strawhats, but especially chopper, franky and robin ♡ lover: sanji

[every-sanji]

[oxfords---notbrogues]

@roseandborn

[silverwingxox]

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

[sanjis-angel]

Lately I've been starting subconsciously calling Sanji "Love" as I talk to the screen while playing and watching op and I've been thinking — would it take him more than five seconds to burst into flames or would it insta-kill him? Because he could not be normal about it even if he tried and I love him for it ♡

I also think he would never fully grow accustomed to it. He is fully reciprocated, and it's proven every time I call him — because he's my love, the very source of it, I could hate the world and he alone would survive my wrath; how could he ever take it for granted, after a life like his? After a life like mine? ♡

[sanjis-angel]

I was not aware the in-game Jeanne and Sanji would have interacted. And now I have him reacting to the name I picked 🤍

Translation: Jeanne! What a MARVELLOUS name!

[sanji-screenshots]

lady lighter.png

[sanjis-angel]

i cannot believe i found the actual lighter

[selfrinsert]

it’s sooooo important to imagine you/your s/i wrapping up your f/os injured hand. your fingers brushing theirs, heat rising in your cheeks, murmuring “is that too tight?”

all the while they can barely breathe with you so close to them, being so tender with them. they forget they’re even hurt. they just stare at you in awe before answering, “ah- no, that’s fine.” heat rises to their face as well, “….thank you.”

[sanjis-angel]

Depth | dom!reader x sub!sanji

✧ gn reader (reader uses a strap on); established relationship, smut, dom!top!reader x sub!bottom!sanji, porn without plot; 700 words + 700 parole

Contents: pegging (sanji receiving), handjob (sanji receiving), kisses, sanji has insecurities, praise kink, body worship, pet names (my love, my angel, my golden prince), overstimulation, aftercare, christian rethoric, dacryphilia, nonsexual cockwarming, cuddling

✧ In order: english version + italian version (which i wrote as first but could not bring myself to delete because i like it way more). Just scroll below the english version!

How can you scream your love to the Sun without burning? How can you sink into the ocean without drowning?

Thus your breath melts with Sanji's, laid before you on your bed – now it's all his, now he can cling onto the sheets while your lips dance on one another, slowly sliding down to his neck, along the clavicles. Your fingers rise up, your nails wander through his legs akin to eremites in the desert, then across a pluvial forest, the humidity of the air flooding their constricted lungs. His ankles are now on your shoulders, and you part to lay a cheek on a thin instep, you feel it quiver in arousal while you kiss its tendons. Your strap on is only a few steps away from its destination, while Sanji already threatens a storm.

Both lubricated, you start slowly – your lover and loved trembles below you, you can hear it in his shortened breaths; he wants to speak to you, but anticipation silences him.

“You're beautiful, my love” you awaken him with your words, and a smile makes its way under his blushing. Humid and dilated pupils are eating you alive. “Like this, good job, relax.”

But his body refutes him as your tip barely creeps in, and your hands block him onto the mattress.

“Ah, how do you dilate…” His anus wraps around you, welcomes you as you enter and chases you as you slightly pull out to let him catch his breath, to admire his whispered moans anew. The mouth opens and the throat clicks to let air pass through in a humid and suffered breath. He needs you to fill him with you, but not yet. He's not ready.

Finally you delve a little into him and his back arches in pleasure. “Please, my angel, like this…” His arms attempt to shield him from the painting of your face while you penetrate him – the hair pulled to a side not to bother you, the eyes glistening of pleasure; but your hands leave his hips to cuff his wrists and force them to part, to let your gaze invade his flushed cheeks, the sweaty chest, the lips reddened and almost ruined by his vain attempts not to speak.

In the meantime you pull back, just the time to let him catch his breath to press again and hear him weep. “Please…”

“Sanji… Use your words. Ask and thou shalt receive.”

You know it embarrasses him, you know it will still take a long time before your love teaches him he deserves what he craves for, but his erected member twitches before the quiet sound of your voice, suffered semen pouring out before you even achieved your goal.

“Fuck me. Without asking. By taking and reclaiming.”

No other key to your pleasure is needed. A spasm takes a moan out of him as you sink into him, and it is inebriating.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” He can't whisper anything else as you reach his prostate and part from it, as you hit the target again and again, and Sanji keeps coming in spurts that transform pleasure into pain, then into pleasure again, united in a marriage that you reinforce with your hand around his member, up and down, then with a thumb inside his slit.

He doesn't know where to put his hands if not on your back, where you accept him – your asylum extends to his forehead, sinking into the base of the neck, and your lips console his hair, only tears of gratitude welcoming your semen inside him. When you pull out a feeling of emptyness drowns his chest, and Sanji begs you to stay inside him.

"I'm not going anywhere, my golden prince" you whisper as you oblige and embrace his shivering figure. You know all to well that finishing destroys him, that just an instant of eternity is enough to make him bear a thousand years of solitude; you stay there, laying on the bed, him so small now before your chest despite his usual importance, your arms embracing him and your slip on inside him again. No one will ever reach his depths like you have done and are doing now, no one will ever love him like you know how to.

His humid hair still smells like honey, but nothing can compare to the sweetness of his salty tears that your lips are silently wiping.

Come puoi urlare al Sole di amarlo senza bruciarti? Come puoi affondare nell'oceano senza annegare?

Così il tuo respiro si fonde con quello di Sanji, steso al tuo cospetto sul tuo letto – ora è tutto suo, adesso può aggrapparsi alle lenzuola mentre le vostre labbra danzano le une sulle altre, scendendo piano giù fino al suo collo, lungo le clavicole. Le tue dita si risollevano, le tue unghie attraversano le sue gambe come eremite nel deserto, poi attraverso una foresta pluviale, l'umidità dell'aria che inonda i loro polmoni costretti. Le sue caviglie sono ora sulle tue spalle, e tu ti allontani per appoggiare una guancia a un collo sottile, lo senti rabbrividire di eccitazione mentre ne baci i tendini. Il tuo dildo è a pochi passi dalla sua meta, mentre Sanji già minaccia tempesta.

Entrambi lubrificati, cominci piano – il tuo amante e amato trema sotto di te, lo senti nei suoi respiri accorciati; vorrebbe parlarti, ma l'anticipazione lo ammutolisce.

“Sei bellissimo, amore mio” lo desti con le tue parole, e un sorriso si fa strada sotto il suo rossore. Le pupille umide e dilatate ti mangiano viv*. “Così, bravo, rilassati.”

Ma il suo corpo lo rifugge quando la tua punta s'insinua appena, e le tue mani lo bloccano sul materasso.

“Ah, come ti dilati…” Il suo ano si avvolge attorno a te, ti accoglie mentre entri e ti rincorre mentre esci appena per fargli riprendere fiato, per ricominciare ad ammirare i suoi gemiti sussurrati. La bocca si apre e la gola schiocca per lasciar passare l'aria in un respiro umido e sofferto. Ha bisogno che tu lo riempia di te, ma non ancora. Non è pronto.

Finalmente di addentri un po' e la sua schiena si inarca di piacere. “Ti prego, angelo mio, così…” Le sue braccia tentano di schermarlo dal dipinto del tuo volto mentre lo penetri – i capelli tirati da un lato per non infastidirti, gli occhi lucidi di piacere; ma le tue mani lasciano i suoi fianchi per ammanettare i suoi polsi e costringerli a separarsi, a lasciare che il tuo sguardo possa invadere le guance avvampate, il petto sudato, le labbra rosse e quasi rovinate dai suoi vani tentativi di non parlare.

Intanto tiri indietro, giusto il tempo di fargli prendere fiato per poi rincalzare e sentirlo piangere. “Per favore…”

“Sanji… Usa le tue parole. Chiedi e ti sarà dato.”

Sai che lo imbarazza, sai che ci vorrà ancora molto prima che il tuo amore gli insegni di meritarsi ciò che desidera, ma il suo membro eretto si contorce al suono quieto della tua voce, e seme sofferto sgorga prima ancora che tu abbia raggiunto il tuo scopo.

“Scopami. Senza chiedere, prendendo e reclamando.”

Non serve altra chiave al tuo piacere. Uno spasmo lo fa gemere quando affondi dentro di lui, ed è inebriante.

“Grazie, grazie, grazie…” Non può sussurrare altro mentre raggiungi la sua prostata e te ne riallontani, mentre centri il bersaglio ancora e ancora, e Sanji continua a venire in boccate che trasformano il piacere in dolore, poi ancora in piacere, uniti in un matrimonio che rinforzi con la tua mano attorno al suo membro, su e giù, poi con un pollice dentro alla sua fessura.

Non sa dove tenere le mani se non sulla tua schiena, dove tu lo accogli – il tuo asilo si estende alla sua fronte che affonda alla base del collo e le tue labbra consolano i suoi capelli, soltanto lacrime di gratitudine a dare il benvenuto al tuo seme dentro di lui. Quando ti ritiri una sensazione di vuoto affoga il suo petto, e Sanji ti implora di rimanere dentro di lui.

“Non vado da nessuna parte, mio principe d'oro” sussurri mentre gli fai questo favore e cingi la sua figura tremante. Sai bene che finire lo distrugge, che un solo istante di eternità vale più di mille anni di solitudine; rimanete lì sdraiati sul letto, lui adesso così piccolo al tuo petto nonostante la sua solita importanza, le tue braccia a circondarlo e il tuo dildo di nuovo dentro di lui. Nessuno potrà mai raggiungere le sue profondità come tu hai fatto e fai in questo istante, nessuno potrà mai amarlo come tu sai fare.

I suoi capelli umidi profumano ancora di miele, ma nulla può compararsi alla dolcezza delle sue lacrime salate che le tue labbra, in silenzio, asciugano.

[misslovasstuff]

you resting your head on Sanji’s back.

It’s wide and it feels safe and warm. You rely your whole being on him, feeling understood and known. He handles so many things on his back but your embrace is his favourite as it makes any other unnecessary weight perish. You feel secure, that even if you were to close your eyes for a bit, nothing bad would happen, not as long as he’s here with you. He would tilt his head a bit to try and take a glance of you, his lips forming a sweet and loving smile.

“You’re tired, my love?”

His worry only makes your heart flutter as you wrap your arms around him.

“Not anymore. - you lend a kiss on his back. - You’re my resting place.”

You tighten the grip, Sanji touching and caressing your hands that rest just under his chest. His blush hidden from you, but his heartbeat is so loud that it makes you smile just at the thought of how flustered he is right now. However, you do not fall behind on that regard since his scent has captivated your senses, and your hands beg you to roam around his body and to love him the right way.

[g8dess]

How about you reblog this post 👉👈 and talk about the domestic joy you and your f/o experience 👉👈 like talk about the little moments where you are falling even deeper for them 👉👈

[sanjis-angel]

Sanji and I have this little morning ritual where we both wake up at sunrise together. He does in order to get everything ready before breakfast on the Sunny, I do because I want to live the day to the fullest; but I often struggle to open my eyes, so Sanji calmly brings me back to this realm with little kisses on the face and words of encouragement with his warm, morning voice... And when it doesn't work, he guides my wrists back to a seated position, warming them with his lips and accidentally doing the opposite of waking me up :'D

But then I get dressed and we watch the sunrise together in front of a warm cup of tea and some little sweets, no word spoken, just our company and blushing cheeks even after years of these dates ♡

[sanjis-angel]

Stay | sad!reader x sanji

You are a little bird, always looking for the sun; and yet, sometimes, your feathers burn, longing for winter. Providentially, Sanji is there to stop you.

✧ gn reader; love confession, hurt/comfort, drunk!reader; 1,8k words

CWs: mentions of smoking (and not in a bad light, but it's only one sentence), shame, depression, anxiety, running away and abandonment, alcohol, slight mention of suicide ideation, emotional self harm, christian rethoric ✧

A faraway chatter, the dark coat of stars above your head.

Your eyes are sunk into the folds your fingers create on your skin; you observe the grater wrap of your arms, almost too far away for your mind to understand their meaning – only the warmth lingering inside your throat keeps you grounded in reality. The cold wind tries to brush hair away from your cheeks, only for the strands to get entangled along the trails of your tears.

When have you begun crying? You are sure it was after you left the laughing crew in the kitchen. After all, you walked away right after your heart started failing.

A vague halo of smoke escapes the nearest door, and you let it sit inside your entrails. Maybe, you think, this acidic taste is what has helped the ship's cook survive every single minute of his new life being overwhelmed with voices, bodies running and bumping into each other; or maybe it's you, whom you need to analyze. Maybe it is only you, and he is happy.

Then why can't you?

A bitter laugh whispers your pain to the world. How ungrateful, spitting on the plate you have just eaten into. How undeserving of their saving you actually were that day, when they let you escape your personal hell; and now you repay them by running away.

The decision had been made at dinner, before Sanji poured sake into your glass, before you served yourself a second, a third, a fourth. And while the others' knots were loosening and laughter illuminated the room, your mind proposed the last details of a path you could have never returned from.

The voices are calmer now, you notice. Someone must have already fallen asleep, you think with a new smile whose nature you don't know. The little bird has flown enough; it's time it returns to its nest.

You roll on the side, and your hands struggle to keep you from falling again. But it won't be a spinning head to halt your march.

Your wings are now open, and your feet leave the ground for the last time.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

Sanji must have noticed, you think as you lay on the wooden logs of the crow's nest – not the one you had aimed for just minutes before; but you need this, the rotting smell of your soul as it melts to the floor, as you so desperately pray your visions to just stop, just for a second, just enough not to stumble against the mainmast and attract everyone's attention.

You want to breathe, and yet the same bitter laugh as before cuts your lungs. You don't have much time left, now. You either run or wait long enough for them to demand an explanation, one you don't even have for yourself.

Two decades of solitude, you remind yourself. Your whole identity has been carved by those four walls and their bars right overlooking the sea; they are part of you, two extra limbs still chained to the ground, and you don't have a knife to cut their hands off. What you have is a pair of wings, and with them you can stop hurting.

“Attempt number two” your raspy voice echoes. A little cough to clear your burning throat and your feet are back on the railing, your wings deployed to flee.

You're free! You can go everywhere you want! Then why are your eyes mourning while your lips celebrate?

The clouds are dancing with you, embroidering your hair with wet pearls as you pierce them. You can feel your skin scream against the frosting wind, but your blood boils in adrenaline, and sailors would mistake you for a siren of the skies.

You would scream, now, but a faraway plea, a gorgon, has eventually turned to stare into your eyes. “Please, wait!”

You can't face him. Not right now, as your chest sinks in horror and terror seals your lips. “Please, just stop for a second!”

Sanji's hair is stuck to his temples, drenching in sweat as he takes a moment to catch his breath. You cannot look at his expression, not only because it is hidden by golden locks but because you want to dive into the sea right there. “Wait… Please. Let me understand.”

He is looking at you, but you cannot meet his pleading gaze. “Why are you crying?”

“How can you–” But he does; he would not stop you, were you to leave; but why are you mourning what you are running away from?

The remaining words die inside your throat, mutinying in exchange for guilt and a shaking weep. “I don't–” you attempt again, but a wet sob cuts your breath. “I can't–”

“It's okay.” The moon mends its light along the filaments of his irides, and you did not plan to notice; he's just too close to you, his hands cradling your face as his thumbs brush your tears away. No other warmth could engulf you as much as this one, and frost now screams along your arms. “You don't owe us an explanation. Your life is yours to plan. I just want to be sure it is not our fault, you know?”

“It's not” you finally manage to say. Silence falls between you two as he patiently waits for you to continue, a quiet, slow caress of thumb every time a sob cuts your trembling breath. “I… It's too much.”

The candid canvas of his lips sketches a gentle smile, and your chest aches in guilt. “What is too much?”

“Everything.” Just as you told him back then.

The sun presses against the galleon. The drink Sanji has brought you sits on the table, and silent droplets have already begun trailing down the glass, a pond with two tributaries – refreshment, and your own tears.

Sanji rushes by your side, a knee on the grass to look for your eyes. The damp pearls look so similar to his in a drenched night, uselessly trying to light up one of the last cigarettes of his life. “It's… too much.”

This freedom, this joy; these gentle actions, his attention, his tender fingers caressing your elbow as the light in you slowly fades away. “I can't repay you.”

“May the sea open under my feet and swallow me whole were I to love you just to seek you back.” The world finds its worth in the ground he walks on; but who will ever be at his height? What could you ever do other than letting him look for that person?

But he does not want to. Not then, not now as he hugs you amidst the clouds, gently guiding you where your tears can finally dry.

“No one will blame you for the sadness of your heart” he finally says. It's no unprecedented announcement, and yet, this time, you nod. “You can take as much time as you need. You can do what you desire – but please, don't run away. You can leave, but don't see it as an escape from us… From me.”

The truth is, as long as he knows you are safe, you could bathe him in gasoline and set him on fire. After all, no pain could ever compare to the guilt of making you cry. “I would never ask of you to share my love, for it will never be faltered by your rejection.”

Your eyes, to his, remind of an abandoned puppy forever chained to a streetlight – and maybe that is what you are now, only asking the world to shelter you until the rain ceases. “No, S–” And somehow, even his name is covered in gold. “It's… It does not matter, that's the point. I'm not made for love. I'm not made for joy.”

New tears threaten to torture your cheeks, and Sanji quietly shushs you as his hands cradle your tired face once more. “I could die in your arms, Sanji… But I don't know if I could live in them, or any other's.”

“We could try, if you wish.” He's betrayed by his own emotion, his lips already turning into a smile. “Tell me what to do. Tell me the truth in your heart as you feel it, without fear. Tell me when to love you, if you want to be loved. Or let me be by your side, let the moon witness my vow to protect you until my last breath.” His lips find your tears, constellating your cold skin with incandescent supernovae. His words do not repent for making you shatter into sobs. “Your soul is too beautiful to let it extinguish in pain.”

He knows you can't give him a response, but it does not matter – the least he can do for you, the reason for his breath and warmest light in his life, is to let you know that the little bird does not need to go back to the nest. The little bird has learnt to fly, and just as any other feathered soul, it needs the sun, not the stars.

Only when you step back on the galleon does he realize you are drunk: not even the time to let go of your hand and you slide onto the grass, unwillingly dragging him down with you. “Ah.”

“Hey, are you– I thought you could not be poisoned?!”

“I guess I just have high tolerance” you reply from the ground; no emotion comes from your voice, and yet he does not even complain, not as you raise a hand towards him and he doesn't see anything other than a future of reverence to the North Star.

He lays beside you, taking your fingers between his lips to kiss their tips; then, his eyes turn to you as you speak again.

“The world overwhelms me” you finally admit, more to yourself than to him. After all, he is the only philosopher of your soul. “People to talk to, to smile to, to interact with. It's too much… I just want to be left alone, for once.”

It would be easy for him to persuade you into changing. A simple set of sentences, a comparison with a Oharan wallflower you both know and he could leave his own world as it is; and yet, you see him nod. “Would you like for me to wake you up, tomorrow? And every day to come. We don't need to speak – I serve you breakfast, we watch the sunset, and no word needs to be spoken. Just you and I – and the sound of silence.”

One day, you were withering in a cell, forever under the demanding eyes of blasphemous thieves. Have the farmers ever asked the earth whether her soil was ready to aid them?

This night, however, you're neither soil nor an angel; you are just a person, one who is allowed to hurt and grieve, one who will never be left behind – and he melts under your touch as you repay him for finding you, as your lips revere the hands that have cradled the fragments of your soul, not letting them slip away into the winter.

“I would love that.”

[misslovasstuff]

So do all women see Sanji with his pulled up sleeves exposing his forearms, beautiful tender fingers holding amidst his cigarette that briefly touches the in-between his lips, they see his blue orbs sunk in his rested eyes, his somewhat long blond hair and that amazing drip of his always fully on suit (extra points if he’s wearing gloves) AND they don’t go absolutely insane?

ok let’s that this slide but addition to all these, some of them get to know his gentle nature, witness his radiating and genuine smile, bad classic boy aesthetic but you talk to him and he’s an absolute sweetheart? Now what excuse do they have for not falling in love?

[sanjis-angel]

“Possessing you, your bitter warmth, I know the better part goes forth on air in dissipating coils—a serpent track unimaginable, the frolic of form I lack.” — Joanne de Longchamps, "Blind, I speak to the Cigarette"

[dreamwinged]

fun game. make the tags look like your self insert's search history

[sanjis-angel]

Sweet dreams | reader x sanji

A nightmare leaves you lying in your bed with palpitations; but you are not alone, and Sanji offers you a warm haven.

✧ gn reader; established relationship, hurt/comfort, nightmares, pet names (my dear, my love, my angel), caretaker!sanji; 655 words

The surrounding silence of your room has never felt so unfamiliar.

It's not the first time you have woken up from a nightmare, either. Your open eyes stare at the blanket of tiny dots that the darkness lies in the corner, an empty space that you so desperately need - no more running, no more terror; and yet your heart still races in your chest, and no limb of yours wishes to find out what would happen if you moved.

But you are not alone. In this loneliness, an arm is tugged around your waist, and you feel it shift to look better at you. You remember it is Sanji's only when blond strands quietly caress your lashes, but you cannot break contact with the emptiness. “Are you awake?”

He almost whispers, and yet those gentle vibrations shake your mind into living.

“Mn.”

Has your beating heart disturbed his sleep?

You rotate enough to meet his eyes, and in the dim light he smiles at you, places a soft kiss on your temple. “Have I awakened you?”

“No” he replies in a new peck. “I woke up way before you… I just did not felt like leaving you in bed all alone.”

He's adorable, you think; and you manifest it by caressing his face - but the terror from your sleep has yet to set you free, and your breath still reflects the shivering of your heart.

And he notices.

“Are you okay, my love?”

The truth is, you are not, you just wished to sleep, and yet you could not trust that world of soft clouds. Your eyes fall almost naturally on the clock; 4AM, the ultimate proof you needed against your boyfriend's reassurance. “Did I scream when I woke you up?”

You hear him sigh to himself, a surrendering flag. “No, my dear. You just winced in your sleep, then I heard your trembling breathing.”

His hands are looking for yours, and as you let them, they gently turn you around to make you look at him. His eyes are searching for the truth beneath yours, and yet his concern doesn't reflect in his eyebrow, firm in the laziness of the morning, admitting that he himself is still wishing to fall back asleep. “Talk to me. Was it a bad dream?”

You would almost laugh at the euphemism, but tired tears threat to fill your dams. “I'm always running towards the sea, I always try to fly away - but he's always behind me, that hoard is trying to grab my legs, and it's so frustrating-”

“Hey.” It's just a whisper, and yet it manages to catch your attention; Sanji's fingers cup your cheeks, his thumbs now brushing away your tears. “They cannot harm you anymore. You are with us, now.”

“I know, but every time I wake up my chest hurts from the palpitations… I just want to sleep.”

“Then let's just do it.” He makes it sound so easy as he slips back under the blanket - your blanket, now that you think about it. This is your room, the Thousand Sunny's dedicated room just for you. You, and Sanji when you let him sleep with you.

He offers you his arms, and you let them embrace you. “Let's just sleep as much as we can. And should you wake up from another nightmare, you'll find me here to lull you back into your golden world.”

A golden world for your golden dreams, right into the haven of your golden prince… Yes, you could use that.

And when your head finds a nest into his shoulder, you realize how warm he is, how easy it would be to fall back asleep.

“Thank you” you manage to mumble, and you can feel his childish heart beat faster because of your words; his arms squeeze you tighter, giving him better access to your head to leave soft kisses onto.

“Good night, my angel.”

[sanjis-angel]

“Nearer and nearer still with smiles we move, Soul melts with soul, as hand is joined in hand.” — Horace Parker Chandler, "Come, Dearest, to My Heart"