積ん読

As your feet touch the cool floor, a warm hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you planted. Before you can turn, you hear a muffled grunt.

“Where the hell d’ya think you’re goin’?” His voice is muddled, not fully cognizant. Most often you hear this voice when the cat wakes him shortly after he’s fallen asleep or if anyone has the misfortune of calling and waking you both at inopportune times.

“Where am I going?” you repeat, your smile lifting your voice.

Haruka’s grip tightens, though still gentle in the way he holds you. When you look over your shoulder, you find him half-sprawled across your side of the bed, his right eye screwed firmly shut, leaving his golden eye to grumpily peer up at you. His expression is cemented with a pout that rivals the ones you used to see when he was still in Bofurin. He nods, a subtle movement that barely disturbs his hair.

“Yeah. ‘m supposed to wake up first.”

“You like waking up first?” Despite the light tug of his hand, you remain firm, still thinking about omurice.

“Yeah. Like watching you sleep.” Spoken as though it’s an obvious, immutable truth, akin to the rising of the sun each morning. He tugs again, still a silent request, and you can’t help but give in. Only once you lean back and allow him to wrap his arms around you, strong and sure, does he ask again, voice rumbling in your ear, “Why were you tryna leave?”

“I was thinking,” you start, drawing out the last consonant, pausing when he presses his face into the crook of your neck, “of surprising you with omurice.”

He hums, his breath tickling your neck. “We could just go to Pothos.”

Clicking your tongue, you smack his arm where it sits coiled around your ribs, earning you a laugh, a warm huff that settles on your cheek. “Or you could let me surprise you for once. I’ve gotten better.”

“I still remember the egg you got all over the stove top last time you tried to make it. I want to eat something.”

“Hey. The rice and everything tasted fine, didn’t it?”

You feel the lift of his cheeks once more, the shift against your skin, a smile hidden from sight but not from you. “Yeah, but you can’t call that omurice. That’s just rice.”

“Shut up, will you? Not all of us received lessons from Kotoha.”

He laughs again, the sound living in the spaces between the beats of your heart, and you try to wriggle away, knowing he’ll keep you in place. Sure enough, his arms wrap tighter, trapping you against his chest. “Stay with me a bit longer.”

“But your food…” Even as you say it, you settle in his hold, growing comfortable once more.

“Worry ‘bout that in a bit.”

The fan whirs and the curtains dance, letting light flicker across your morning, soothing in conjunction with the steady thrumming of Haruka’s heart against your back. Even as his breathing steadies and slows, you know he remains awake, basking in the quiet of your life just as much as you.

“You’ll at least let me try to make omurice, right?” you ask after another minute has passed.

“Ya already know I’ll eat whatever you make.”

“Oh, how sweet. You’re a sap in the morning, did you know that?”

“Shaddup. Maybe we should go to Pothos."

His laugh rings in your ear as you lightly elbow him, more than content to lounge here with him for as long as he’ll have you.

You slide both hands underneath his arms and slide them all the way into the open buttons of his collared shit. His double-breasted jacket lies open with a thin dress shirt underneath, material fit for warmer weather. The light blue color makes the texture of of the lingerie every so slightly visible from under it.  

The bralette you’ve chosen for Sanji is white. A sheer, ribbon-like material makes the square bralette, one without a plunge that shows off the flatness of his chest. Dotted with bows and lined with lace, as it hugs the bottom of Sanji’s pecs every so slightly. Sanji’s face is covered by his hands as you admire him with it on.  

He’s filled out over the two years you were apart, at least for you to see it fill the unlined bralette ever so slightly. You slip your hands underneath the cups, palms gently running over his hardened nipples. He gasps quietly and a laugh bubbles out of you—somewhere between cruel and adoring. A sense of elation overwhelms you as you round your hands up and squeeze. There’s a slight weight, barely enough to fill your palms. Sanji shivers a little in your lap, keening.  

“Flat chested girls are cute too. Such a pretty girl.” You offer, knowingly, delighted by Sanji’s immediate reaction. “Aren’t you?”  

He can’t bring himself to say yes, but you can see it all the same. The way it washes over him from head to toe, that sense of euphoria that threatens to leave him completely boneless. 

Sanji, by all accounts, is the best man you know. He’s good in all the ways that matter. Generous, considerate, and so believing in the superiority of every woman he knows. Your authority and Sanji’s service for you never feel at odds when you’re together. He alway takes good care of you, better than anyone man or woman. To be a man for Sanji has high expectations, and Sanji seeks to exceed every single one.  

For all of his playful charm, deep down you know better that Sanji always believes himself a little unworthy.  Even after everything, and all of this time. You’ve always had to talk him out of deifying you, but it all runs so deep in him. A belief in the holiness of you, and the burdensome belief of born sinc.  

But the ways in which you are like God, is how you’re made in the image of mankind, selfish and primal. Each time you touch him you try to remind him of that—that your appetite comes from inside of you, Sanji turns away. Becomes bashful and disbelieving in the very idea that each offering at the altar is appreciated so wholly.  

Letting Sanji be your girl is like tethering him back to Earthliness alongside you. A great equalizer that allows him to take as much as you can give. Step beyond himself to receive the affection he needs so desperately, that he soaks up like a sponge. It makes giving himself up something to bask in for just one moment.  

 Sanji warbles a little, his voice light. More airy than you usually get to hear it. Your fingers tease and toy with his nipples without constraint, crooning at him each time he lets his voice out for you.  

“Does that feel good baby?”  

“Yes.” Sanji replies simply, rutting his hips again ever so slightly. “Yes, feels so—“ 

You flick your thumb over them, feeling them harden further under your touch. Sanji is sensitive everywhere , but it took you some effort to make him feel it there. The reminder of his own efforts to please bring you inexplicable joy. You find yourself reaping your efforts often, regardless of what role you play for the evning.   

When you touch them, something in Sanji unfolds itself in front of you like a love letter; an open invitation to take him further—into where you wish. A place you’ve primed for no reason other than wanting to make him feel as good as he can. His spine goes loose at even the slightest brush now, floating as his weight falls into your lap. Eyes shut close, breathing uneven. It overwhelms him, always, without any theatre.  

But as your girl, it makes him dizzy. It makes him wet and needy. Makes him ache and shiver. This kind of desire acts like a kind of cradling for him, a haziness, an undeniable proof of what he isn’t and what he couldn’t possibly be. No necessity for anything other than to be your one and only girl, something he longs for in a way he could never voice.  

“Lots of girls feel it here,” You say empathetically, rolling one softly with your thumb as his voice becomes louder and louder. Desire welling up inside of him, curling around his ribcage. “Don’t be so embarrassed,”  

Sanji’s protest comes genuine, a sense of upset to his words and all too sincere. On the very edge of letting go but still on the precipice. Just needing one more push before he can embody what you expect from him. “I’m trying,”  

Your laughter flows easily at his discontent. “That so? I’m sorry, baby. Should I help you?”  

Sanji doesn’t say anything back to you, frowning a little in a way that endears you something awful. You pinch him lightly.  

“Use your words, sweet girl.”  

“Yes,” Sanji whines, so ashamed and so turned on that pre-cum leaks out onto his slacks. “I really don’t know what to do with myself,”  

You recognize the honesty, putting it all to pause for a brief moment. You put your mouth next to his ear while still toying with his nipples, tongue caressing along the outer and inner. His whole body trembles, arousal suddenly spiking and spilling out of him—his loud moaning echoing. “Just let me have you, Sanji. Don’t think so hard. Just be good and listen to me. Can you do that?”  

Sanji makes another face of conflict before finally yielding, his expression turning towards you desperately. You kiss him deeply then, opening the seam of his mouth with your tongue so you can kiss him like trying to swallow him whole. A kiss like the eucharist. Sanji moans slightly into your mouth when you do. You break apart from him, the tip of your nose brushing his.  

“Good girl,”  

Embarrassment soaks back into him, but it’s different now. A pleasant sort of shyness, cute and coquettish that makes you grin as he wrestles with it. So quickly, his whole body flushes a gorgeous color. A shade of pomelo, ripe with need. He goes pink to the tips of his ears, down the line of his shoulders, the slight bump of his chest. 

“Let’s move this,” You say, pushing the bottom end of the bralette up just past his nipples until it sits folded, sliding both palms down his abdomen. “There you are,”  

With his chest bare, you move your fingers carefully onto his belt. Undoing the zipper and buttons and pushing them down. Sanji lifts his hips for you with immediate obedience, helping you keep his slacks in place at the middle of his bare thighs.  

He gasps at the sight of what lays beneath. Under the neat black fabric of his slacks is the sheer, lacy white of Sanji’s underwear. Boyshort panties with trimmed ruffles, sheer enough to see everything that’s barely hidden. It’s completely obscene in a way that makes both you and Sanji reel. You smile sweetly looking at. The rounded tip of Sanji’s cock spilling pre into the lace turning it almost transparent. Highlighting the shape of it, the length and size. Big and useless, standing completely straight. The tip of his cock is a shade of pink dark enough to look red. A furious color making him stick out even. 

 The tented material of his panties make it so there’s nowhere for him to hide.  

From there you can see everything. The neatly trimmed hair over his cock, and the small happy trail on the smooth, pale expanse of his stomach. His length ulsating as he waits for more with such shallow breaths.  

“Oh, baby,” You murmur lovingly. “You’re needy, huh? It’s throbbing. Haven’t even touched you.”  

Sanji just nods, making you coo in sympathy. You creep your hands onto the inside of the stretched lace, still not touching his cock as you rest both palms on his pelvis, a hand on either side. You press your tits further into his back to get the proper angle. Wrapped around him completely with no room to run from your touc.  

“You’re a good girl, baby.” You say lowly, placing your hands closer and closer to his cock. “How do good girls get what they need?”  

Sanji fumbles, some part of him intrinsically knowing the answer, which makes him bashful beyond measure. “Using their…words,”  

“So, what does my pretty girl need from me? What should I do with her?”  

“Please touch me.” He begs with ease. You shake your head.”Please,”  

“Touch you where?”  

Red blooms all down his skin. You can tell the exact moment it occurs to him what you mean, a noise of uncertainty following the thought. Your shoulder shake with silent laughter as you watch him wrestle with it. Want always wins out in the end, both of his hands gripping into the bedsheets as he grits the word out with every last shred of his conscious.  

“Please touch my clit,”  

You moan, pleased. “Atta girl,”  

The pitiful whine that leaves his mouth as soon as you touch his cock urges you into motion. Your poor baby. You circle your palm over the head of his cock, wetting it. Once, twice, three times—pressing your thumb tender into the slit. With your hand now soaked with pre-cum, you wrap a fist around the base of his shaft, holding it tight.  

Sanji gasps, throwing his head back as his body shudders in your arms. A laugh crosses your lips at how loud he’s being. Your other hand squeezes his tits for him making Sanji melt.  

You waste no time in bringing him close to the edge, delighting in the way he’s let himself go to the feeling. With your fist firm around the base of his cock, you move your hand in a slow, rhythmic motion. You let yourself linger at the tip, rubbing it around in the small circle of your close hand before bring it back down to stroke him. You can feel his cock twitch endlessly under your expert touch, moaning as he resists bucking himself into your first. Sanji hates ruining his own pleasure that way 

His chest rises and falls, mouth fallen open as you watch him take each stroke. He moans incoherently, losing his voice somewhere inside of him as he grips onto the sheets and pants. So wanting for you always, the whole figure of his body wracking with oncoming pleasure.  

His cock leaks a little on each stroke, pre-cum now a steady stream as you bring him closer and closer to the edge.  

“Oh, oh, please, please, please,”  

“You wanna cum, pretty girl? Gonna be good and cum for me?”  

Sanji thrusts up into your hands involuntary, desperate as he nods. Muttering incoherently as he pulses, body gone completely taut with anticipation. His stomach tenses hard, and then in motion you watch everything in his body just begin to unwind.  

Faster, the room fills with a wet, filthy noise. “Fuck. Yes, yes, yes,”  

“Go on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Show me,”  

With another few strokes Sanji spills into your hands. Your fingers go sticky with thick ropes of white cum, stroking feverishly even as Sanji keeps cumming. You squeeze every last drop of it out until he has to beg you instead to stop instead, which you finally do.  

Sanji breathes heavily as he lays in your arms in the post-orgasm glow, trying to catch his breath as you kiss all over his neck and shoulders. His usual comes back to him after a beat, soft and worn, and oh-so utterly grateful it makes your core ache with desire.  

“Thank you,” He says, voice smile.  

You smile at him tenderly, nosing at his neck and jaw. “Of course sweet girl…but I didn’t say we were finished yet, did I?”  

Sanji makes a garbled noise. “Sorry?”  

You grin sharply. 

“It’s alright, baby. I know. You need something to fill your pussy with right?” You say, cuddling into him, smiling gently as you see Sanji already starting to get hard again. “I’ve got you,”