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#if the scenario above really happened
doedipus · 7 days
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a large amount of time I've been spending on -untitled undefined scope original fiction project- since the last time I posted about it has been trying to develop the protagonist concept I came up with last summer or whatever into like, a character that would feel real and era appropriate.
it's fun research to do. naturally a lot of the details I assigned to her are things that I already think are cool, so it's been a lot of fun trying to trace her traits back through the relatively recent past, getting reminded of how much things have changed, or where the gaps in my intuition are, and then doing a flurry of reading to get a sense for exactly how someone like her and the people around her could have happened and what her life was probably like leading up to her present day. hopefully this results in some good good verisimilitude.
#I wrote a short story from her perspective over the holidays and then didn't know how to continue it#and then I got distracted by real life stuff for a few months#I forget if I posted about that#and then I've been picking through archive dot org for the last few weeks looking at this stuff#the last big rabbit hole was trying to get a better feel for era appropriate ts/tv subculture#the current one I'm looking at is how she would've gotten into language learning and how that would've worked#nettle has been prodding me about the setting thing lately so I've been thinking about that more too#probably the biggest hurdle by far is figuring out how I want to play that#and how I want the thing to be divided up#since the original coc scenario I'm developing this out of is centered on a flight from LA to honolulu#and the airport dungeon was definitely meant to be a hook for a larger campaign#some amount of it is going to cover protag lady's failed life in LA and some of it is going to be worse things happening in hawaii#but it's like. how much do I want to balance it one way or the other#and realistically how much does the aesthetics of 20th century air travel add to the story#besides me personally thinking it's compelling ofc#a lot of what I find compelling about hawaii is that it's an east/west cultural crossroads and realistically that's also true of socal#and I can wax poetic about socal as much as I want without worrying all that much about mishandling something#and there's also a lot of socal specific history along similar parallels to pull from that I'm more familiar with#I guess it comes down to whether curiosity re: 'doing it right' is enough of a motivator to do the increased amount of research#which I guess it has so far with the above character details. so hopefully that will continue#but it also feels like using machine translation a bit yknow. it's hard to know how effectively I'll be able to sanity check#although depending on where this goes I might be able to get other people involved to sensitivity read down the line#with most of the creative things I do I just have a tendency to always rely really heavily on figuring things out myself#I also want protag lady to have a Cool Car and idk how to get that from point a to point b narratively#this is like an entire second or third post's worth of tags but I don't feel like unfucking this so whatever. suffer. I guess.
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tearlessrain · 2 months
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please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!
gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.
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SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:
diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.
non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.
the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.
now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.
if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.
if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.
this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.
it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.
but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.
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evangelifloss · 2 months
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Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.
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Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.
And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.
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It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.
And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.
For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.
I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.
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altruisticalastor · 3 months
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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴
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☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.
☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches
☒ Word Count: 1,010
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All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.
The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.
The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. 
When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took. 
"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame. 
"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit. 
Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt. 
You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now. 
Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness. 
Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact. 
Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up. 
You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him. 
"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.
You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.  
Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!" 
Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out. 
You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you. 
Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"
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graph100 · 1 year
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being a horror fan is actually still eating in the kitchen even though its got windows and its midnight and half of the lights are off and youre watching a video about undertale, a game that may be wholesome but still carries an eerie vibe, which gives you a tinge of distress, ever looming in the background of your emotional buffet. as the video plays an upbeat tune you pretend to be not scared by the dark like a child and dance along. you remember to not be an ass and clean up after yourself, but the visualizations approach in the windows. the possibility of some terrifying creature or even just a vision occuring is slim, yet it still gets to you. you walk, almost on your tip-toes back to your room, acknowledging the silliness of your childish irrationalities. this always occurs, every time you do this, not with the exact scenario, but almost every night. each time slightly raising your heartbeat.
damn i started writing a y/a novel in there somewhere, sorry.
another option is you thinking beetle fighting is cool even though you hate bugs
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sunraies · 9 months
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Rafe x Sleepy! Reader where he freaks out that she’s not answering her Phone and thinks The worst scenario that she’s sick of him, cheating etc. But It gets better when she calls him while he’s with The boys and she’s in her pj’s telling him she just woke up and asking what happened that made him call so many times 🥹
Sleepy baby
As requested above
Warnings - insecurities, toxic thoughts, drug use, drinking, and mentions of sex. Ending fluff.
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16 hours ago, you posted to your insta story. 16 hours since you'd been laughing, smiling, singing, and dancing into the camera. Music pumping and disco lights blazing as you partied into the night.
You looked so happy, surrounded by your college friends. Some he knew, and some he didn't. He wished he could have been there with you. Long distance was slowly killing him, he was sure of it.
Although he'd been uneasy about you going so far away, things had been working out. He visited as often as he could, and you came home for the holidays. But it was moments like this when he started to doubt it all. His mind would spiral.
At first, he thought there was a reasonable explanation for you not texting him when you made it home and for not responding to his messages. You were probably to tired and drunk, simply forgotten.
But as the hours ticked by and multiple messages and phone calls later, his mind began to wander to darker places. You didn't need him anymore. You had finally realised it. You had found someone else. Someone else had found you.
You were a college student, you didn't need some hometown boyfriend dragging you down, you had finally decided to live your best life. Without him. Party, sex and drugs.
Well, two could play at that game. The moment Topper had told him about a party happening, he immediately said he would go. Fuck it, he was still the Kook King, he knew how to party, how to have any person he wanted.
The problem was that you were the only person he wanted. After a few drinks, he found himself where he normally ended up at parties. Sat with his boys, Topper, Kelce, and Barry, nursing a beer, smoking a blunt, doing a few lines, and glazing into the fire pit as the sky of endless stars shone above them.
"Bro, that's like the billionth time you checked your phone." Topper pointed out as Rafe pulled his phone out of his shorts pocket again.
"What's up, Little Miss Havard ghosting you?" Barry teased as he through arm an over Rafe's shoulders.
"Fuck off" Rafe tried to shake his arm off before sighing as looked at his phone again.
All that stared back at him was you as his lock screen and a couple of notifications, but none from you.
"Oh, shit. You really think she is?" Barry's smirk dropped, suddenly noticing his friend genuinely down about something.
"She's probably just busy," Kelce tried to reassure him. "You know with essays and shit. I mean, I have a shit ton, and that's just online"
Out of everyone in their little friend circle, you were the only one who moved the furthest away. Topper was on a gap year, Kelce was doing online courses, Barry was dealing, and Rafe had to follow in Ward's footsteps. A few of your friends did gap years.
Rafe nodded slowly. "What if, what if she's do -" He didn't finish his sentence as his phone screen suddenly lit up. 'FACETIME - Baby 😍 💍'
He nearly dropped his phone in the panic of answering it. For a spilt second, he thought about letting it ring out of spite. You'd not answered any of his. But he couldn't do it, for all the spiralling his mind had been doing. He needed to talk to you.
"Rafe, hey, you ok?" You looked so sleepy as you rubbed your eye. "I'm so sorry, I've been asleep all day"
If he could have jumped into the screen and kissed you in that moment, he would have. You looked so adorable, hair in a mess, no makeup, clearly sat in your dorm room bed as he recognised the bed sheets and the tapestry on the wall behind you.
What made his heart warm the most was that you were in one of his t-shirts. One of many you had borrowed/stolen.
He knew he was smiling at his screen like a complete goof. But he didn't care.
"Where are you?" You asked, trying to work out the noises around him and odd lighting of the fire pit. "Why did you call so much? Everything ok?" You asked, concerned.
"Everything's good, baby," He smiled. "Just at a party with the boys." He turned the phone around to show them
"God, Rafe, no don-" Too late, there you was in all you sleepiness. Proudly held up on his phone screen.
"Mrs Country Club!" Barry greeted as the others said "yo" and "hey"
You awkwardly waved and smiled as your cheeks burned before Rafe turned the phone back him.
"Well, I better not keep you from the party. As long as everything is ok?" You could tell something wasn't quite right, but didn't push it. He'd tell you in his own time. He always did.
"Everything is fine, my sleepy baby." He smiled, not giving a shit if the others heard.
"Alright, see you this weekend? Facetime tomorrow?" You smiled as he nodded before saying I love yous.
"Aww, my sleepy baby. Sleepy bab-" Barry teased before Rafe pushed him. Causing his chair to topple backwards onto the grass. Making everyone who witnessed laugh.
He glanced at his phone one last time, seeing you smiling face on his lock screen and new message 'Baby 😍💍 - I really do love you ❤️😘'
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uglypastels · 8 months
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the Special | Sanji x reader
a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite
Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry
And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog
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word count: 9.9k
warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.
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“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”
― Anthony Bourdain, 
The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.
Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside. 
‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’
‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.
‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet. 
‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.
As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater. 
The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance. 
‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly. 
‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.
 ‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door. 
‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.
‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you. 
Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you. 
‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’
‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.
‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement. 
Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead. 
‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement. 
‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’
Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.
‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter. 
‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares. 
‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly. 
‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued. 
‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from. 
‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.
‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation. 
‘I’ll have your finest brew.’
‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence. 
‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to. 
 ‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’ 
‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’
‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.
‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.
‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it. 
‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece. 
‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.
‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’
‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.
Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with. 
‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.
‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’
‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates. 
‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’ 
‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.
‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—
‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’
You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’ 
He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’ 
‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile. 
‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.
With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’
Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you. 
‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you. 
‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted. 
‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks. 
‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat. 
You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’
‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.
‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.
‘I didn’t—’
‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.
‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point. 
‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’
‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people. 
Deep breath in. 
Out. 
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you. 
‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’
‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened. 
You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve. 
‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.
‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’
‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’ 
Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.
Or at least make an attempt at it. 
Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease. 
Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’
‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest. 
Silence. 
He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit. 
‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’
Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’
  ‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’
‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately. 
‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’
You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’
The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours. 
You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you. 
It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.
‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you. 
‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you. 
‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.
‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small. 
‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’
‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements. 
‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’
You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience. 
‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.
‘Let me cook for you.’
‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.
‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’
‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.
‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses. 
‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.
The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked. 
‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise? 
‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’
‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’
  ‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time. 
‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’
‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’
‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’
‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’
‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly. 
‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’
He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect. 
‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after  everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you. 
‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.
‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.
‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’
‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.
As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’
‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’
‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’
‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’
‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.
‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’
‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer. 
‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’
‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.
‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’
‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.
‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’ 
The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work. 
It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him. 
‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag. 
‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled. 
‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’ 
‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt. 
‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.
‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.
‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste. 
‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.
‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’
‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’
‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’
‘How long exactly?’
‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again. 
‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste. 
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner. 
You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter. 
‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart. 
‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’
‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit. 
Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.
‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.
‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.
But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed. 
‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out. 
‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’
‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.
‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’
Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.
As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.
There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you. 
Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.
One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.
Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven. 
He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.
‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.
‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie. 
With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.
As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.
Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle. 
Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up. 
‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’
‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more. 
‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’
‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.
‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.
‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’
His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.
‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees. 
The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak. 
The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic. 
‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest. 
‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.
‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’
‘It pleases me to hear that,’  he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’
‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly. 
‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle. 
There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints. 
‘You ready?’ he asked.
‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy. 
He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly. 
First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact. 
While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made. 
‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts. 
‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’ 
‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.
‘Yeah?’ 
‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot. 
You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’
The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more. 
It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand. 
Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort. 
‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter. 
‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over. 
‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’ 
You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.
‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’
‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’ 
‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly. 
And you were tired. And hungry. 
‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.
‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water. 
‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’
‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.
The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you. 
‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’
‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating. 
Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’
‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’
‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’ 
The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’
‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.
‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’
Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you. 
‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’
To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.
‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet. 
‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’
the end
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thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.
you can find my other writing here
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tswhiisftteedr · 3 months
Text
Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot
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☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :
They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?
Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.
Words: 2330
Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!
Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!
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☆ more under the cut. ☆
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Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.
Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’
And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.
Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.
As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.
Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.
In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.
“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.
While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.
“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’
“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.
“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.
“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.
"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.
"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.
"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"
You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.
"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.
Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.
You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.
"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.
Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.
As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.
And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.
"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."
"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.
The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.
Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.
Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."
While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.
With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.
His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.
“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"
“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”
"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"
"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."
“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”
“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.
"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."
"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.
You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.
He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.
Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.
Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.
"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.
"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.
Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.
As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.
“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.
In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.
"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.
And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"
You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."
"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.
With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.
Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."
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After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.
“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.
“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.
“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.
Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’
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Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!
©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.
Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie
You can now commission me!
Tag list for Adam: @sunflower-lilly @moonbloom226
Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)
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notmyneighbor · 1 month
Text
Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/ The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 2
Word Count ~ 1.3k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, eventual smut(not in this chapter)
Also available on AO3
Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok
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You stare at the door that separates the security room from the inner apartment building.
Waiting.
Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, knuckles blanching. What was taking Francis’ doppelgänger so long? Was he immediately planning on attacking the residents? Leaving you, who was clearly an inept threat, for last?
The brass knob turns and you hold your breath. Your heart is beating so erratically you fear it will tear itself free of your chest. A creaking noise. The hinges need greasing.
He’s here.
In the room with you. Suddenly you realize you’ve never seen Francis except through the pane of glass. You’ve never viewed any of the residents without that transparent barrier dividing you, in fact.
You take a step back and your hand nudges the D.D.D. guidance chart you’d stopped referring to long ago, sending it fluttering to the floor. You know it by heart. Identification. Physical appearance. Entry request. Featured on the day’s list of expected visitors.
You hadn’t obeyed a single one of the rules just now.
The doppelgänger steps forward. Slowly. In no apparent hurry. Your eyes dart to the window. Would someone else enter? Could they get help?
Why had you let him in?
Francis smiles gently. Not really Francis, but the thing inside of him. Wearing him like a suit. You back up another step. The rotary phone was still within reasonable reach. But you’d never get more than a single number dialed. Despite his casual movement now, you instinctively realize he is more than capable of speed. You’re doomed. And you’ve condemned everyone else inside the building along with you. Not the first time it’s happened, but that had been a long time ago. Once humanity learned to fight back, it had been very carefully avoiding a repeat of that scenario.
And here you are, undoing all of that progress because of a single moment of weakness. Because of your very human feelings.
“Did you think we would be content with merely looking like you? No. That was not nearly enough. We started with the smaller creatures first. A dog, as I recall. Easier to mimic. Easy to infiltrate your ranks, too.” His voice is scarcely above a whisper. It crawls on your skin and you freeze, paralyzed by fear. “No, the goal all along was to become you. And we’ve succeeded. At last…”
The being disguised as the milkman regards the window for a moment, considering the exposure. His head tips to one side thoughtfully. Sifting through those memories again. Recalling the apartment number where his human predecessor had dwelled.
“Let’s go somewhere more…private.” He smiles again and this time it’s a gesture you’d never seen on Francis’s features. A kind of leering grin. His hand reaches out, fingers clamping down on your wrist.
You gasp but don’t struggle. You’d been expecting his skin to feel different; wrong somehow. But it feels human. Warm. He tugs and you stumble forward. Colliding against him. Your eyes note a few flecks of ruby near his collar, not visible until you'd had a side profile view like this. You’re not so naive that you don’t know what they are. Their originating source.
Oh, Francis.
He turns and pulls you along with him. Bypassing the stairs and moving towards the elevator. A soft chime when the doors slide open before your captor drags you along inside. He thumbs the button for the third floor and you feel the compartment lifting. Another soft tinkle of sound announcing you’ve arrived shortly afterwards.
The body stealing creature pauses at the door, hand rummaging in the pants pocket to retrieve a set of keys. A stalled moment until he discovers the correct one. You wonder if your absence has been discovered yet. It would still be awhile before your shift ended. The residents might think you’ve stepped out for a break. Not unheard of. At least you’d sealed the main entry door behind him. At least that last bastion of defense remained, for now. The man—no, he was not that, do not think of him as that—the imposter reaches for the light switch beside the door in a gesture that seems one borne of muscle memory.
The inside of Francis Mosses’ apartment is just as you’d imagined it.
Clearly the living space of a bachelor. Minimal decor. No plants. A basket of presumably clean laundry waiting to be put away beside the living room couch. The morning’s coffee mug still sitting on the counter, not yet rinsed. A crocheted throw spread over the sofa. A gift from his mother, maybe? Yesterday’s newspaper lying on the coffee table. You wish you could go back in time to yesterday. Before Francis had been killed. Before you’d let this evil nightmare inside the building.
A soft derisive sound emanates from him. Not impressed with his surroundings, apparently. You hear the deadbolt being drawn behind you, the lock on the door turned. Trapped inside securely. With the monster that looks identical to the man you’d harbored a secret crush on for so long.
“Let’s see what else this place has to offer, hmmm?” His lips beside your ear make you shiver. He shoves gently on your shoulder blades and you stumble forward. There’s not much else to see. Just the bathroom and the single bedroom across from it. Only a queen sized bed. The curtains still closed. Another light switch by the open door lifted, bathing the room in a soft, hazy yellow glow. “I can’t help but notice,” he begins, that wicked mouth near your ear again, “that you don’t seem quite as keen as before.”
“Why would I be? You’re not Francis.”
“I could be him. Your body would think so. You could make your mind believe it if you wanted to.”
You turn to face him, your hands balling into fists. He removes his cap and tosses it aside, looking at you with amusement. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, just get it over with. Just…just kill me.” It would be preferable at this point. The thought of that intruder putting any part of its body against yours makes your stomach turn.
The humor fades from his features, replaced with irritation. “I’d hardly have gone to all this effort simply to terminate your existence. No. I think we’ll stick with the original plan.”
“There is no plan,” you say through gritted teeth.
“Oh, but there is.” He reaches out to the gold and enamel pin bearing the letters of the organization on your chest, flicking the metal with his nail disdainfully. Then he’s pressed against you and his mouth is on yours.
You react instantly, the fists you’ve had ready attempting to strike, but he traps your wrists easily.
You’ve fantasized about kissing Francis many times.
Every daydream had been soft and sweet. Shy, chaste, gentle touches before passion overtook the pair of you.
This, though. This was nothing like that.
The doppelgänger’s mouth moves not so much in memory, as an imitation of something it’s seen, rather than experienced firsthand. Disregarding whatever the milkman had previously done, now relying more on instinct. It’s rough and awkward. Teeth accidentally knocking together. Tongue struggling to find placement. The incorrect pressure of lips.
You very nearly bite him but something halts you. The kiss is changing. Evolving. The lips seat on yours more naturally. Tongue slotting correctly, twirling over and under your own. The damned thing was learning much too fast. For a moment, you’ve forgotten what it truly is. This feels good. You’re enjoying it.
Then reality comes crashing down on you like a cold shower. This is not Francis. You do not want this.
He feels it, too. The precise moment when you cease returning his enthusiasm. He draws back, frowning at you. “Why did you stop?”
“Because you’re not him. Don’t you get it? I cared about him. Not just his appearance. Who he was inside, as a person.”
Confusion scrawled on his face. He doesn’t comprehend what you’re saying. The nuances of human emotions still evade his species.
“I am what remains of him,” he whispers. “All that remains. So cling to it while you can.”
His mouth covers yours once more.
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thefantasyden · 2 months
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Stray Kids reaction to you grabbing their dick (subtly) around people
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Kind of exhibitionist themes. NSFW of course. Nothing too kinky.
Chris:
Ohhhh boy, he's so turned on, but he's also embarrassed because of how much it turns him on. Chris loves your confidence and boldness above all else, so he can't help but feel a little pride when your hands reach behind you to rest against his dick. He really did have pure intensions when he came up behind you for a hug while you were talking to people but his thoughts have definitely turned sinful and he'd be tugging you closer to him so that he could press his dick against your ass all under the guise of being a cute, clingy boyfriend. He'd probably be throbbing against you if someone commented on how cute you two were or how sweet he was to you because he fully intends to have you begging him for mercy when he finally gets you alone. I genuinely just think he would be SO turned on my any hidden dirty displays from you in public where he was the only one who could know what's happening. Call it subtle exhibitionism if you will, but he'd be hard as hell and whispering his dirty thoughts in your ear every time.
"If you want me to bend your pretty ass over the couch when we get home, you coulda just asked me."
Lee Know:
Grins like the Cheshire Cat. He would be SO proud. It's not exactly a secret that you're his personal slut but he just lives for the affirmation of you not being able to keep your needy hands off him. If you're hanging out with the older members when it happens and you subtly slid your hand from his thigh to his dick, he would immediately call you out on it to embarrass you because he knows you'd like it. He's only turned on further when you sass him in response, and he probably wouldn't wait long to be tugging you to a place where he could have you all to himself. He's a bit of an exhibitionist but I think he'd also be possessive, so prepare for him to be taunting you before he lets you touch him further. He'd make you tell him all about how you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself because you're always needy for him. He treats you so so well when he finally lets you have him, and he'd be praising you for being his desperate angel. To him, it would evolve be another form of intimacy unique to you, and it probably becomes a normal habit after a while for you to have your hand on his dick when you're just hanging out.
"Aw, look, my baby just can't keep their hands off me, huh? You're always so desperate."
Changbin:
He wouldn't even realise it was weird at first because you're always groping him, and he does the exact same to you. He's always gripping your ass or your thighs when you're in reach of him, so you gripping his dick when you were sitting at dinner wouldn't register for him until he feels your hand move up his length and when that happens, he's coughing to try and cover up his moan because holy hell is it hot in this place. He's encouraging it for sure, and I think he'd actually like it if one of the other members caught you. It'd probably be Jisung because he's your partner in chaos and he'd see your hand slipping under a blanket when you were relaxing with them, immediately asking if you two ever thought about anything else with a smirk and Changbin would just let out the silliest, excited laugh in response. He loves your hands on him, but he also always manages to get a giggle out of you in most sexual scenarios (which gets him even more riled up because he l o v e s hearing you laugh.)
"Have you SEEN my baby? You're lucky I'm controlling myself right now like a civilised man."
Hyunjin:
He'd be turned on and a little irritated because it almost always happens when you're at an event that you can't leave. You were always flirty with him, and that was perfectly normal and acceptable with people around, but you hugging him and sliding your hand down to grope at his already half hard length was something he really could not find an appropriate reaction to. His expression would almost give it away if he hadn't been whispering a warning to you. Never mind that having you with him and having the two of you being praised for looking so good together while he showed you off already had him counting the seconds until he could get his hands on you. His behaviour wouldn't change throughout the night, but his grip on you would be tighter, and he'd be quieter than usual. You would almost believe he was upset with you if it wasn't for the anamoured smile he couldn't stop whenever you were talking to someone. The second you're in a private spot, he's scolding you for making him feel so out of control.
"I really need you to behave until we get back to the room and I can have you whining under me, ok?"
Jisung:
Confused and needy. Hell, he hardly has time to be confused because they way his body reacts so strongly to you has him pleading in your ear for you to help him relieve a little pressure, your cupped hand resting over his dick after you came to bring him coffee in the studio. He's just glad Chris and Changbin are focused on what they're doing and can't spare any attention to his whining when he pulls you on to his lap so he can hide his face in your hair as he pants against your neck. He's just so sensitive to your touch, and he can't help it. Poor boy is trying so hard not to grip your thighs too hard or fidget too much. Usually, when he's desperate like that, he'd be so vocal, but that's impossible when the other two are so close by. He'd survive MAYBE 10 minutes TOPS of you sitting in his lap before he's trying to convince the boys that he feels sick (which they don't buy, but they don't feel like dealing with him) and he's dragging you back to the door. I think he's just so in love with you that he wants to have you in any way he can at all times.
"Shit... That feels so good baby. No no, please don't stop. I just want a little more."
Felix:
Depending on the day, I think he'd either be kind of cocky and into it, or he'd be bright red (but still into it!). Felix strikes me as someone who has a high sex drive when he feels a deep connection with someone and you just so happened to tend to his needs so well that he's ready to go whenever you show interest. You'd be sitting in the car coming home from something, and your hand would carefully drop to his lap, fingers barely stroking over his dick but he's getting hard regardless. He loves your light, ticklish touches, and his thoughts are spiralling to how they feel on his bare skin and how similar it feels when you trail kisses down his chest and, well, he needs you. He covers your hand with his and presses it down so he gets a little bit of relief but is also stopping you from torturing him any further. Once you're home, he'd playfully call you dirty between kisses and it would entertwine with 'I love you's and whispers of how beautiful you are and how badly he needs to have you touch him again. Lots of messy kisses and giggles before you even make it to the bed.
"You don't even know how hard that was! How am I supposed to act normal when you've got that innocent face and you're touching me like that?"
Seungmin:
I don't care if you're team Dom Minnie or Sub Minnie, I think he'd be FLUSTERED. Seung doesn't strike me as an exhibitionist at all, and he'd react so instantaneously to your touch that it has him aggressively flushed and confused. He'd take a second to respond when he first felt your hand on him, but he'd push it away once it registers, scowling and whisper-yelling that you can't do that when people are around! He doesn't mean to sound harsh, he's just so embarrassed (and maybe also really turned on) that the words come out more aggressively than he intended. Once he's calmed down, though, he'd scoot closer to you and interlock your fingers, gently kissing your cheek and apologising for the way his scolding came out. He loves that you want him, he just needs it to be at a time when he can respond freely. Don't worry though, because he'll make it up to you when you're alone. He'd be kneeling between your legs as quickly as possible, kisses littering your thighs as his hands pushed them apart.
"Let me make show you how much I need you, ok? I wanna taste you."
I.N
Just like Lixxie, he depends on the day. If it's a really public setting, he's embarrassed and moving away from you BUT if it's a small group with maybe one or two of the other members, he's pulling you closer to him and bucking his hips against your hand, encouraging you to continue. On rare occasions like movie nights where you're hidden under fluffy blankets, he wants you to jerk him off. He's a young man, he has a lot of dirty thoughts. It's definitely not his fault! He'd taunt you with whispers of how good he'll make you feel later and how hard he is, all for you and god, when he finally feels your hand wrap around him properly, he has to squeeze his eyes shut and pray that nobody notices his panting or the way he seemingly can't get comfortable all of a sudden. He doesn't like to finish like that, though, and he doesn't think about what anyone says when he drags you to his room. All he cares about is getting his lips on yours, hands groping at whatever he touches first as he cages you against his mattress.
"I know you love seeing me like this. I'm so hard for you. I wanna fuck you so fucking bad."
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fhrlclln · 11 months
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miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader pt. 1
SPOILERS ??!!
now we all know this man has some serious anger issues lmao but who wouldn’t love a grumpy man having this deep unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, right!? right. and along with that, SMUT! such a beautiful combo. but mild smut for now.
but here is some mild miguel smut for y’alls horny ass (and mine) <3
here’s part 2 !!
mild smut under the cut
。・:*˚:✧。
spiderman 2099. miguel. miguel motherfucking o’hara.
leader of the spider-society, an elite crew of various spider people from all across the multiverse, their mission to protect the multiverse from any threat that may come. sure, knowing how crazy it sounds that the multiverse is real and that— there are more variations of the spiderman you knew since all before this shitshow happened.
and to say, your relationship with the leader wasn’t all that bright in fact.
you’re not a spider person yourself but sometimes you wish you are seeing how fucking cool spider-woman, jessica drew, a fellow member, along with other members coming in are (hobie, gwen, pavitr and so on.) but no radioactive spider ever bit you sadly. you are human, human as ever working under miguel o’hara as his assistant (more of a manager really) even though he has lyla, the virtual sweetheart, you still had some things you can do which are a big help in all the management for the spider-society.
miguel, as a boss, well— he’s a fucking menace sometimes as you grit your teeth to yourself, walking swiftly into the familiar hallways you always passed through, captured anomalies around your vision until you arrive at the fairly narrow one, meaning you were almost close. all the people knew how fucking grumpy he was, always snapping out of nowhere, sharp comments and unnecessary hurtful ones too when he’s super mad. you’ve dealt with all of that since the foundation was found— and he’s kinda a loner. you sigh, knowing from the looks of what has happened today regarding miles morales, things weren’t looking so great. and you had to ask him somehow about the situation and see how it goes, well not or not.
your feet echoed through the vast space of his lab, his platform was up high as always and you can hear him grumbling a top, watching every scenario of what happened. your heels clicked as you stopped, looking up, blue light restricting your vision as you coughed for his attention. cringing already inside as you heard the audios pause.
then silence.
silence….
more silence….
silenceeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
“what?” he asks from above in a clip manner.
“heard from lyla.” you merely quip back, shrugging your shoulders.
“and?” he grunts, resuming his work as the platform above descends down. ah, sassy. you think, usual miguel— not the mad one, real lifesaver for whatever you’re gonna say right now.
“nothing.” you say, waiting for the damn platform to come down faster. “i may have a few questions where this leads-“
“what questions?” he asks, the platform finally stops at the usual height, making miguel who’s back is turned from you visible.
“about the situation. miles morales.”
“ask lyla about that.” he dismisses you again, tone a little sharper. the back of his muscles flex, super suit clinging tight, his mask the only one that was removed. tousled dark hair seen as he clicks away on his screen, the voices of miles and gwen emitting. you gulp, sighing as you tried for one more.
“it’s more of a personal question for you-“
“has it ever occurred that i don’t answer those kind of questions?” he cuts you off, the footage he was watching paused as he slowly turned around to finally face you. your eyes meet his, familiar red ones looking down at you, face scrunched a bit as if he was annoyed already,
“i know.” you slowly say as he crosses his arms. muscle bulging, making you avert from his gaze for a moment, which embarrassed you. “but all i’m saying or asking is that are you going to make it easy for the kid?”
something in his eyes snap at your question. he jumps down, landing swiftly in front of you as he stands up, towering your frame. you roll your eyes, his shadow blocking the light from you as his hands were situated on his waist, meaning he was ready to argue. but you can’t argue how eager you feel seeing how close he is. heat radiating from him, the way he never leaves his eyes off you and his overall presence.
“what is easy in all this, really, huh?” he harshly spits out. “the faith of the multiverse is in danger. and who’s responsible to fix that? me! so no, i’m gonna make it easy for the kid. he was the one who started all of this if you can remember.”
“oh, i remember and i remember clearly telling you how all of this— this is happening is very much-“
“no, no, no. that is completely out of the logical reason for why this happening. not the reason at all.” he says, his brow scrunching together as you too became fairly annoyed that he was cutting you off. an ass really.
“out of the reason? maybe it is the reason if you think about it!” you retort back, huffing out a sigh as he shakes his head turning away from you.
“miguel.” you call out to him. “miguel, for once, try and see through this. through miles.”
“i have a lot of things to do, y/n. arguing with you is not one.” he commands, as your shoulders sink, the familiar feeling of disappointment washing over you from his words.
“maybe if you could listen to me, we wouldn’t be arguing.” you stared at him with hard eyes, he tensed, looking to the side before he swiftly walks towards you again.
“why would i, huh?” he glares at you. “do you know everything i know enough to make everything right in the multiverse?” he stalks over to you, intent to make you listen clearly as you back away a bit from him but he doesn’t stop. “no. so no, there is no point in listening to you.” he growls the last sentence, the lump in your throat bitter as you two stared down at each other before he utters his last insults. the buzz of something blooms between you both. you could feel it, he could feel it. the two of you were just contemplating in the inside as miguel steps a bit closer to whisper it.
“you’re my assistant, know your place.”
your eyes widened at his words. but you could not shake the fact how deep he said it, the rumble in his voice making your brain go haywire at all the emotions you are feeling right now for him. the breaking point of your patience at its peak as you glared at him harshly, his face close to yours as you cursed at him.
“fuck you, miguel.” you spit out. his face suddenly changed as he fucking smirked. smirked! you stare at him as he opens his mouth to spit something out as well in retaliation for your insult.
“really? that’s all you got? i thought you were better at this, churri.” his smirk widens as you shy away, suddenly flustered at how fast he can make you embarrassed. you could feel his chest close to yours as you avert his hard gaze, making the said man snap something inside of him seeing you all crumpled beneath him.
“you’re all bark but no bite, sweetheart.” he whispers as you didn’t look at him. “look at me.”
the subtle growl in his voice caused you to obey him. you look up to meet his eyes again, seeing them red as ever, red with that low gaze that makes your thighs clench hard. the slow breaths between the two of you are only heard as miguel leans down, face closer to yours now.
“what’s making you shy, huh?” he asks, the argument from earlier clearly out of his head as he focuses on you. his one hand creeping up to gently caress yours, urging you to say it.
“miguel, please, stop playing with me.” you grumbled, ashamed how you liked how he was acting now. “it’s not funny.”
“i’m not joking around, am i?” he sasses but you held your hard gaze on him which he surrenders. “alright, i’m sorry.”
“no you’re not.” you sighed, knowing there will never be a genuine sorry from him which leaves you utterly defeated, more upset how you know he’s toying with your emotions right now. “i’ll take my leave.”
“y/n, don’t…”
“please stop.” you raise your hand for him to stop.
“i’m sorry.” he genuinely says, gripping your hand gently back down, squeezing it softly. his big gloved hand envelops yours as you studied his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking around. miguel practically knew what’s going on between the two of you, which of course why he liked arguing with you. the way your eyes would dilate all the time and beat of your heart racing whenever he gets super close to your personal space. addicting yet a dick move he was doing because in all, he very much likes you. and this time, this time it all snaps at the pinnacle seeing you shamelessly stare at his lips.
“thank you.” you softly say, glancing at his lips, the fangs subtly showing behind them as miguel swiftly dips forward to finally kiss you with such fervor.
your eyes widened as you gripped his broad shoulders, toes tip toeing, heart pounding as his arms wrapped around your waist. you moan out on his lips as you kissed him back the same passion. months of ignoring the unspoken tension between the two of you and at this moment it happened! you think that this all sinks in because of the situation, and you are right in your head. all of this should happen.
“miguel.” you pant breathily between his lips as he shushed you with another one, too lost in the moment.
“miguel please.” you begged for more as his hands dip down to squeeze your ass, lifting you up effortlessly with his spidey strength as your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips.
“i know.” he kisses your chin down to your neck, slowly walking to the desk nearby. your breasts squished together with his hard chest as you grind down, feeling the evident bulge underneath you.
“you’re an ass, ya know?” you mumbled in his ear as he sits you down on the desk, objects scattering at the impact. he continues his ministrations, the things he was supposed to do are far long gone in his head as his hand dip down to where your legs were open for him.
“that i certainly know.” he admits, you giggle suddenly knowing how defensive he is when people point that out.
“but right now, i’m being very nice, amor. very nice.” he whispers, nipping your ear as his gloved hand touches you there, the pencil skirt you were wearing scrunched up above your knees. you gasp, clutching his shoulders again as he chuckles lowly, feeling the wetness as his eyes stared at you with this animosity as he kneels down, kissing your thighs before he sharply opens your thighs wide. your covered cunt staring right before him, begging to be eaten and he sure will be. he looks up to see you, this wild look in your eyes as you nodded for approval which makes him genuinely smile.
“i’m feeling generous today. it’s a once in a lifetime scenario, huh? so you better feel lucky today.”
。・:*˚:✧。
I HOPE I DIDN’T MAKE MIGUEL OOC CUZ I ONLY WATCHED THE MOVIE ONCE. ANYWAYS PART 2? <3
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tubbytarchia · 3 months
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Doc and Jimmy brainrot part 1 lmao oh no
Basically "What if Doc was in the Life games and Jimmy triggered his parental instincts again". You guys will see my vision. I don't care what it takes. You will see this very specific vision I have god damn it if it's the last thing I do
This is all I have to use as propaganda right now but some ideas and justification below cut!!
Been imagining a lot of Doc/Jimmy interactions both in a traffic and HC context, both of which I'd love to draw for but obvs this for now is 3rd life and I want to draw a little something for each Life series. You'll see!!
The general idea is inspired by a moment from one of the Decked Out streams in which Jimmy calls for Etho and Doc's all "you're triggering my parental instinct... I wanna take you into my hand and take you to a safe place" yep that's it that's the whole inspiration!!
Jimmy deserves love and he does get it to various degrees ofc (Tango, Bad Boys etc) but man... It's so fun to me to imagine Doc in traffic, I think he claimed that he didn't want to be part of the life games because he was afraid of being too competitive (or so I heard), but god it's so fun to imagine big scary mad scientist goat man in that scenario and him probably going at it on his own a lot of the time, but this god forsaken mf Jimmy knows exactly how to unintentionally trigger his parental instincts. I want Doc to subtly take Jimmy under his wing especially as Jimmy keeps dying first. So maybe Jimmy is a bit incompetent and loud as far as he knows, but he sees that he's trying his best and the dad in him can't help but intervene just a tiny bit (and I do mean just a tiny bit) as the games go on. Yes I'm just gonna shove Doc into the Life Games just because I wish this dynamic could have happened and I beg you to put up with it!!
For the above drawing specifically since, sigh, I'm slow and that's all I have to offer rn... it's of course 3rd life, starting off. I imagine Jimmy's wings sprouting during that, because the whole "canary curse" began with the Life Games etc. And this post isn't about FH but just for context as I imagine it, Scott who doesn't like unpredictability convinces him to clip his wings (thanks Bree) because Jimmy's not a proper avian (unlike Grian who has a more "airborne" body, bird feet etc rather than just... wings) and he'd never be able to take flight anyway, those wings would only encumber him. (And then Jimmy keeps clipping them himself until DL Ranchers but cough this post isn't about that). I imagine the avians (for my specific roster, just Grian) have their wings magically clipped anyway just enough to prevent flight and make the games fair. Doc ofc isn't avian himself but he knows that Grian greatly frowns upon the act of willingly clipping wings so when he sees that Jimmy's quickly growing wings have been clipped as well, he can't help but ask, because why would that be necessary while his wings are so small anyway? And Jimmy's response triggers a wee bit of fatherly concern in him but thats it for 3rd life woo
For the rest I just wanna draw more tiny moments of interaction until I get to Secret Life, I guess!! The brainrot is really fucking strong guys
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harmoonix · 10 months
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ETHEREAL ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS ✧✧✧
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- I thought I could protect you
- From paying for my sins -
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✧ Natives with the Sun in the 8th/12th houses are born with spiritual gifts, they could be either hearing or seeing things from their childhood/having paranormal activity around them since they were kids
✧ Natives with Venus in Cancer/4th house or at Cancer Degrees (4°, 16°, 28°) are damn protective over their family, family can mean anything for them. These people function around love and safety in their families
✧ Natives with Ascendant - Neptune can experience day dreaming or just can Imagine things in their head a lot and to create scenarios in their head + extremely spiritual people
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The scars and the wounds
I wear them proud like tattoos
Reminds me that I lost you
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✧ Natives with Pluto - Venus aspects can get jealous and overprotective often in their love relationships, touch their partners and you end up in heaven or hell based on how angry they are 🤣
✧ Natives with the north node in Cancer/ North node in the 4th house or north node at Cancer Degrees (4°, 16°, 28°) need the embody the 4th house traits in this lifetime in order to complete their karmic debts (4th house related things: house, home, family, safety, household, relationships with mother) 🤍🌼
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✧ Natives with north node in Sagittarius/North node in the 9th house or north node at Sagittarius degrees (9°, 21°) need to be more spiritual in order to complete their karmic debts, be spiritual, connect with spirituality ❤️
✧ The bigger sibling in the family it will always have Capricorn, Aquarius, Scorpio or Pisces placements in their chart (Additional highly Pluto/Saturn aspected in chart)
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Nothing's lost, no more pain
Just give me strength
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✧ Venus - Moon aspects can be really sacrificial like they are ready to give their soul for the people they love...they are so sweet deserve hugs 100x
✧ Having Saturn in the 4th, 6th, 7th or 8th house can represent loyalty for their partners and in their love relationships, these natives are really loyal
✧ Moon in Libra/Pisces/Cancer/Taurus - Venus loves these signs, how does it fall to be Venus's fav? You are gifted with love and beauty
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✧ Venus or Moon in the 3rd/4th or 5th houses can connect deeply with their siblings (if they have), they can get along well and this is giving supporting eachother vibes
✧ Venus in Aquarius/11th house/Venus at Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) and their appealing at attracting people is insane, they always have people around them or people who have so much interest in them
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My love for you is greater than their powers
And their armies from above
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✧ Moon in the 8th house/Moon in the 6th house/Moon in the 12th houses are very karmic to have, they can often experience challenges in their everyday life
✧ Ceres (1) in Water Signs and their nurturing with the earth is actually so powerful, having Ceres in Water Signs is confirmed at having a deep nurturing energy ❤️
✧ Ceres in harsh aspects with the Ascendant need so much nurturing to themselves and so much selflove, try to remind yourself everyday how amazing and beautiful you are ❤️
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✧ Capricorn and Leo placements often have a golden heart no matter what, they are kind and generous with people, they are respectable
✧ Moon in aspects with Mercury gives gifts related to music,art,poetry,acting and vocally having a very cute voice in general, they might also speak soft or shy
✧ Saturn - Moon aspects can often get into sad moods or just nostalgic moods for some reasons, they can remember some things that happened in the past clearly and remembered them with joy or sadness
✧ Having family issues? Try to talk with someone with Saturn Cancer/Saturn in the 4th house either Saturn at Cancer Degrees (4°, 16°, 28°) they know what you can go through
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✧ Why does Taurus/Libra Sun/Ascendant/Moon gives so warm energy?? They are so gracious and beautiful beings, Venus energy was always felt like a warm hug to me
✧ Why do Scorpio and Aries placements give hot vibes so much?? like they are hot without any effort and still showing it to world like is so easy
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Be living this life so patient
Until I see you again, it's war we're facing
I know that if I die, my only choice is still
defending
No matter what they say
My love for you is greater than their powers
And their armies from above
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✧ Sagittarius Placements are always so funny to hang out with, I love them so much because of their positive and optimistic energy, they are so supporting aswell (Seems Sag Placements are underatted when it comes to good things and I don't like it at all...they are amazing)
✧ Why does Mercury in Water Signs have such beautiful voices??? They are embodying the mermaids orrrrr?? Really pretty voices i love to hear especially Pisces Mercury OMG
✧ On the other hand Mercury in Fire signs are gonna be more fierce and loudly, they love to talk loud and to LAUGH omg their laughs are hilarious, though you know they can be so brutally honest sometimes?? It happens so random like 😭😭
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(✧ realising this is one of the most beautiful photos of Neytiri ever 😭 she is so MAJESTIC❤️)
✧ 12th house placements and Pisces placements have always been attracted to these mythical/mythical things especially Sun in the 12th house or Pisces (They are feeling like home here)
✧ While on the other hand 11th house Sun or Sun in Aquarius have been attracted to the unseen things or different things than the rest of the people, something that their soul finds unique, especially something that makes them wonder even more
✧ Sun/Moon/Venus in the 9th house love exploring everything they meet, cultures, ancient things, vintage, books, myths anything that makes their heart to spark they are precious love them so much ❤️😭
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(Omg y'all can't imagine my face when I saw this scene again after so many years THIS IS EVERYTHING 🥹🥹)
✧ Virgo/Aquarius and Taurus placements and their love for nature?? I know so many people with these placements who are obsessed with nature, they love the nature around them even a little flower can be seen as a gift from mother nature I love them so much ❤️❤️❤️
✧ Gemini/Libra and Capricorn placements and their love for ancient things or ancient related stuff is actually so pure😭❤️ I know dear people to me with such placements who sometimes talk about ancient things happening in ancient times and everytime I hear them It makes my heart to smile ❤️💞
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And I've been walking this earth long enough
That death's a gift
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✧ Moon aspecting the ascendant is one of my favorite aspects to look for, in a birth chart (I'm a selenophile so I love everything that is related to the moon), the native can be very spiritual, sensitive, emotional and even to have watery eyes or very pretty eyes 👀
✧ Sun aspecting the Moon is very powerful in my opinion to have in a birth chart because of the 2 luminaries aspecting together makes it more unique, the native can have a very moody personality with these aspects, they can be intuitive, aware of their emotions and pretty changeable to everything
✧ Moon - Pluto aspects can feel when something doesn't sit right or when something is wrong, they have pretty powerful emotions and an very intuitive mind
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✧ Gemini Moons/Gemini in Moon Degrees (3°, 15°, 27°) love to communicate, love to socialize, they are the type of people who give you the ✨tea✨,meaning that they have the news about everything
✧ Scorpio and Capricorn Moons or Moon in Scorp and Cap degrees (8°,10°,20°, 22°) are very loyal people,.they keep it loyal til their last breath. they are so loyal and precious 💞
✧ Pisces/Libra Venus/Moon natives are the type of people who can give the best advices when it comes to relationships because they could've experienced this things before others and know how to go trough them
✧ Aries/Sagittarius Venus/Moon love to get sneaky and tricky when they met someone they like, they can even end up teasing the people they like in some situations 👀, they are having this fun energy to hang out with
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✧A V A T A R✧
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✧ A good welcome for everyone coming to read my notes 🤍 didn't post for some days and now it is time for a new post 💞 this one is inspired with Avatar/Pandoran themes, i love them so so so much. 💞I'm not gonna lie I think this post is one of my most favorite posts ever because of the work and the aesthetic I put it in 💞 + my love for it . I GOT chills all over when I wrote this post ✨ Hope everyone reading my notes has a good day full of love and warm energy ✨
"Oel ngati kameie" - I see you 💞💞💞💞
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2K notes · View notes
certifiedfreec · 2 months
Text
・❥・close - gojo satoru x f!reader (crossposted on ao3!) ・❥・
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⊹ oh nooo you’re trapped in a hotel room with gojo… and there’s only one bed… ahhhhh
⊹ 18+, smut, frenemies to lovers, a ridiculous amount of banter
⊹ word count: 9.8k (i’m so normal about him lol…)
“Well fuck.”
Mouth agape, you stand tiredly beside your overly cheeky partner-in-exorcises, surveying the last available hotel suite that’s closest to your current assignment. Cramped could describe it if you’re feeling generous, as the sparse amenities make the single queen-sized bed in the center of the room look like a California King. The overblown stock photos of generic flowers hanging haphazardly above the bed are nearly mocking the otherwise drab room, and the dim lighting makes it all look more dingy than romantic given the scenario you’re in.
One bed left in this overbooked “hotel…” This has to be a fever dream.
“I call the left side!”
Said partner, Satoru Gojo, is oblivious to your inner turmoil as he languidly steps into the room with his singsong tone, surveying what little it has to offer with an otherwise calm expression. God, this guy gets on your nerves, but not for any pertinent or extravagant reason. Really, he just carries himself a little too cockily for your taste, like he’s used to people fawning over him for doing nothing. While you work well together for the most part, there’s something about his presence that just makes you-
“You can take the whole thing,” you grumble dismissively, carefully moving around him to set your backpack down on the warped work desk. You’d sooner sleep in the bathtub even if it was soaking wet, you think.
Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets with how hard they roll when you hear him let out a feigned hum of disappointment. You can sense him studying your every move, even through that stupid blindfold thing he’s always got on.
“Bummer. You scared you’re gonna catch some cooties? I’m not contagious.” Gojo tuts playfully, shaking his black jacket off and tossing it over the back of the chair. “Guess that means more room for me!” He wastes wastes no time in flopping onto the middle of the stiff mattress with a grin, and part of you can’t help but admire- no, simply notice, you tell yourself- how his shockingly white hair and pale skin contrasts the dull, dated comforter. He’s got a white button down on, and you’re tempted to call him a bloodsucking vampire with how translucent he looks. Humming to himself, he reaches for the remote that practically shrinks in his large hands, clicking the clunky TV on and watching it take a few minutes to whir to life.
You’re unsure what to do with yourself, but you’re determined to put some space between the two of you with whatever happens. It’s unfortunate when you realize that you really might not be successful with that endeavor, given your dwarfed hotel room that could trigger any sane person’s claustrophobia. It didn’t help that this guy already took up most of the lackluster room with just his body, either. Your eyes flicker over to your work partner, who appears unnervingly okay with this turn of events. With a deep sigh, you pull out the creaky chair and slump defeatedly onto the desk. You’re careful to scoot to the edge of the chair so your back doesn’t make contact with his resting jacket, and he doesn’t miss your obvious attempt at distance. It’s known by many that he’s always been a huge fan of himself, and you’d be damned if you ever let him think you were part of that club, too.
“Hey, careful with the outerwear.” Gojo’s selectively ignoring your clear discomfort, opting to poke at you anyway because he just does that. “That’s a pricey jacket, y’know.” His face is serene as he’s clicking through the available channels and making his own little noises when each show is less intriguing than the next.
“Right… I’ll try my best,” you reply disinterestedly with a yawn. You rest your face on the cool wood- anything to mentally take yourself out of the painfully tiny space you and this massive human were expected to share for the evening. It’s been a long day of mundane yet necessary work, and apparently the real work is supposed to happen tomorrow. Being instructed last minute to change your stopping point for the day, you were left with no choice but to call around in a new area until you found an option. Gojo simply shrugged and started searching, not even slightly irritated at the change of plans. It irks you how little your colleague is bothered by, well, anything, because it has to be disingenuous at some point, right? Over time you’ve realized that with him, it truly is a brazen confidence- a kind that you decided was more dangerous than reassuring in reference to your line of work. It’s just unnatural- then again, nothing in your field is, so what’s your real issue with him? The question always leaves you befuddled at your core, and now it’s glaring in your face with the close quarters you’re sharing.
After some time spent listening to Gojo’s disjointed chuckles at whatever was playing, you take out your phone to text Shoko about your dreaded situation. This’ll be a long night, you think, grasping at straws to reason that it’s only temporary and that the smell of his spicy cologne will soon fade away from your senses. You have to say though, the scent fits him pretty well…unlike this miniature room you’re both posted up in.
Your eyes betray you when they briefly flit over again at the man lounging across the bed. It’s quite the spectacle, as the ends of his gangly legs and feet are dangling awkwardly over the edge, yet his expression is serene. The word "cute" passes through your mind and you immediately shush it by reflex, but it’s not as strong as the newfound proximity that prompts you to finally tease him in a dry tone: “Jesus, you’re taking up the whole thing and it’s still not enough.”
“Tell me about it.” He’s quick to react to your statement, and you swear you see his broad chest huff with amusement out of your peripheral. “It must be the price to pay when you’re a dreamy, charming, six foot three Jujutsu Sorcerer,” he adds in a lighthearted tone that seeks feigned sympathy. You’re not looking at him anymore, but you can guess that he’s batting the long white eyelashes that decorate his electric blue eyes. Meanwhile, you’re battling a smile.
Shoko’s not answering your SOS texts, so you actually decide to take the bait in the meantime. “You poor thing,” you coo halfheartedly, “It’s just never enough for you.” You shift, draping your arm over the back of the cheap desk chair that warps under your weight.
“You’re so right! I’m glad someone finally understands.” He points a finger at you, clearly pleased that you’re bantering along, and then he rests that same finger on his pointed chin. “Speaking of nothing ever being enough, I’m starving.” He suddenly sits up, making the bed creak with his movement. It’s apparent that his focus has shifted from the lifeless television show to you. “Who delivers around here?”
Gojo’s nonchalant behavior has the opposite effect on you- it’s disconcerting. At the same time, a very quiet part of you wants to warm up to the idea of finding it endearing. Being annoyed by him was all you knew- how could you ever change now?
The noise that escapes him is pure juvenile glee when you wordlessly open up a delivery app on your phone and sling the device over to him, which he catches with ease before scavenging through the limited number of nearby restaurants. If anything, you’ve never seen him so locked in. You hear him murmur his commentary to himself as he swipes through, picking out his order from his spot on the bed (which is basically the whole thing), and then he abruptly stands up with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. Without watching him, you hear his steps move somewhere behind your seat.
“Hey, your girlfriend Shoko is texting you. I had no idea I was such a hot subject! Well, maybe I did.”
Oh shit. The heart that previously resided in your chest has plummeted to your stomach. You completely forgot you’d been virtually begging her for moral support when you first arrived at your shoebox of a room.
You muster all your inner strength to maintain a semblance of cool. “Is she on her way to save me?”
The grin on his face is nearly glowing as he reads your screen. “Hah, you wish. It says, and I quote, ’Sorry I’m just now seeing these! How are you and your “Honored One” doing? I promise he’s not as bad as you think he is, LOL.’”
You can feel all the blood in your body rush to your face as Gojo continues to read the message, who is doing everything to refrain from bursting into a fit of laughter. “’At least he’s not the worst looking, and you guys are gonna have to share a bed anyway. Wink emoji, wink emoji.’”
Your world comes screeching to an ugly halt. In this moment, you remind yourself to never text Shoko while you’re in the same room as him- ever again.
“Oh my god… You’re lying. Stop it!” You feel a wave of sickeningly nervous giggles threaten to rack through your body as you fly out of your rickety seat, marching over to the lanky sorcerer and swiping at him for your phone. He tsks, holding the device up from your reach with a mischievous tilt of his head, and you’re sure that you’ve never been this flushed with humiliation before. His muscled arm holds your phone up revealing the chat, and unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. And his voice? It’s smug, obnoxiously so as he taunts you. “This is so much more interesting than ordering food right now. I think I’m gonna answer her. What should I say?”
“Give it back, Satoru Gojo.” You glower up at him, silently knowing your efforts are futile due to your drastic height difference- and that goddamn Infinity ability of his that he loved to show off.
“Oooh, don’t say my full name. It really scares me,” Gojo gasps mockingly before making a show of squinting up at the screen and beginning to type with his other hand. “Let’s try this.” His fingers begin to dance across the screen. “’Shoko, I think I might be falling for Satoru Gojo, all six foot three of him. We’ve had such a romantic evening-‘"
“Jesus Christ, hand it over already!” You’re reaching your limit with tolerating his antics, body teeming in some liminal space between annoyance and mortification. You stretch up again to try and pluck the phone only to make contact with nothing. Fucking showoff. He’s still got his blindfold on, and you’re unable to see how his eyes are completely shimmering with mirth and self-satisfaction.
“Aaand, sent! I think she’ll like that. Anyway, go ahead and add your order to the cart. It’s on me- I remembered to bring the JuJutsu High credit card this time!” Gojo carries on casually like he hasn’t just done the equivalent of planting an explosive in your text messages, feeling incredibly proud of himself as he plops the phone back into your open palm. Glaring up at him and his resilient grin, you are entirely uninterested in eating any kind of food right now. He thinks it’s kind of cute how quickly your face turns ruby red.
You stare at your violated device, blinking in disbelief before looking back up at him. “You’re a real motherfucker, you know that?” You challenge, though your voice isn’t as hostile as it should be.
His large hands fly up defensively. “Whoa, who says I don’t go for daughters either?”
He’s maddening. How do his students stand him? Your free palm has never moved so fast to your face. Resolving into your clunky self-assigned seat, your butt collides firmly with cold wood. “You’re right. Who don’t you go for?” You huff.
Gojo chuckles with his whole chest as he moves to sprawl out over the miniature bed, returning to the original position he was in before he hijacked your text conversation. With blindfolded eyes focused back on the hazy television screen, his hands lock behind his head as he shrugs indifferently. “Never been a big fan of Geminis, to be honest.”
Unreal. He could talk to you in circles like this forever, and only because he knows he gets under your skin that way. You resign, eyeing your phone screen and scrolling through the restaurant he picked to order delivery from. He’s got quite the spread in the cart, complete with an elaborate dessert that could’ve wiped out your savings account.
“Clearly a fan of cheesecake though, holy shit.” The jab doesn’t come out as mean as you intend it to, and honestly, you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be capable of treating him with this much animosity. You’re already tired, and if you were any more awake you’d realize that your work partner was slowly wearing your guard down, quip by cocky quip.
“Right again. Don’t you just love getting to know me through our intimate time together?”
Shoko is spamming you with an endless barrage of confused and shocked emojis, and you’re far too sleep-deprived to reply. Your entire body flushes at his words as they reverberate in your mind. Intimate is not the right word. No, it shouldn’t be, more like invasive. Right?
“Couldn’t be happier,” you reply curtly, mindlessly picking out whichever menu items are at the top before punching in the room number and credit card info, which was smoothly slid onto the table by Gojo without your prior notice. With your back to him, his gratification is on full display as he pretends to watch whatever crappy show is playing. Winning is his favorite thing in the world, and grating on your nerves is a close second- though really, the two coincide. Part of him wonders how much further he can blur that line.
——————————————————————————————————-
The comically large bag of food is immediately torn open by an eager Gojo the second it lands on the hotel room’s table, and he’s forking together a messy array of sides onto his plate before dragging over a lounge chair from the corner next to yours. He’s sitting far too close for your comfort, but you begrudgingly comply. It wasn’t like he was going to go away anytime soon, even though the night would be so much easier that way. As he shovels his dinner into his mouth, your mind aimlessly ventures as to how he keeps his form so trim with an appetite like that. He’s got to have a strict workout regimen somewhere, though “strict” is a word not often associated with him-
“Hey, your food’s gonna get cold if you keep staring like that.”
Your eyes widen in record time. It’s a hideous realization that you’ve zoned out on watching the renowned sorcerer-turned-temporary-roommate inhale his overpriced dinner, all from being overcome with either exhaustion or acceptance of your cramped situation. At this point, it’s maybe a little of both.
“Sorry,” you mumble, not even caring to articulate a more acidic response. It seems you’re beginning to neutralize into Gojo’s presence, and he mentally takes note of your changing chemistry with him as you quietly stab at your steak bites.
He’s got the perfect opportunity to coo something vain back, like “Don’t apologize, I’d stare too if it were me,” but he doesn’t. He simply keeps eating, sparing you with a less than uncomfortable silence. It’s never been the worst thing between you two given your extensive work history, and you feel yourself soften slightly when the bland hotel room’s air isn’t filled with his assumptive commentary for once. As your plates both get emptier, he feels this sudden need to hold your attention, as you’re less likely to be as combative as you’ve been before. You’re... not so set on hating him.
“You tired?”
Gojo’s two-worded inquiry jars you, almost to the point of choking on your bread. It's something genuine. He closes up one of the empty to-go boxes and shoves it into the takeout bag before pulling out the monstrosity that is his slice of cheesecake. For some reason your heart stammers at how refreshing the possibility of a real conversation with him could actually be.
You’ve got the perfect opportunity to snap something defensive back, like “Yeah, of you,” but you don’t. His shiny eyes shift under the fabric of his blindfold to you, almost prompting you to answer.
“…Yeah, I must be making it pretty obvious,” you say, unintentionally yawning and proving his point. If you were any more relaxed with him, he would’ve told you how cute you looked doing that. You secure your leftovers and start to chuck them into the bag before a large hand suddenly stops you with a “gimme” motion.
“Judging by how easily you’re willing to waste that perfectly good food…it’s not hard to tell,” he prods at you with a grin that you would’ve unnerved you earlier, but at this hour it’s a little more welcoming. Is that a snicker that comes out of you? You hand over the half-eaten order of steak bites to his jubilation, and he’s already popping open the lid to pick one up with his fingers.
Curse your brain in its exhausted state, because it’s nearly hypnotized by his digits. They’re long, dextile, confident somehow. They’re slender and defined, yet capable of serious damage- this you know all too well, and that excites you more than it should. The slice of meat dwarfs in his hold, its shiny reddish myoglobin starting to trickle down his hand and wrist, and it decorates his fine veins and tendons there with its sheen…
No, there’s no way you’re jealous of a piece of meat right now. Did you seriously feel a flutter somewhere that you shouldn’t? Satoru Gojo is literally eating your leftovers with his bare, grubby hands, and you’ve made the fatal error of finding it attractive. Yeah, you’re definitely sleeping in the bathtub tonight before your conflicted mind wanders any further.
He munches on the remainder of your dinner before finally digging into the cheesecake, and you feel blessed for the distraction from your shifting thoughts when you two chat about the mission at hand tomorrow. Is he worried about the curses you’ll be dealing with? No, of course not. According to him, he’s only worried about messing up his hair. Oh, and that expensive jacket you were careful not to touch earlier. With that all that added up, maybe he is nervous about it.
When the conversation dies down, the only sound in the unimpressive hotel room is the game show now playing on the practically vintage television. You quietly scroll your phone while your colleague digs into the soft dessert, stopping suddenly to stick his fork out to you.
“Want a bite? And before you say no, I already told you my cooties aren’t contagious.”
Is this real kindness? You whip your head to face him, studying the glob of caramel-drizzled sweetness, and he’s waving the fork around like a magic wand complete with some convincing “whoosh” sound effects. It’s even more comical with the way he fills his seat, almost like he’s sitting in a doll’s chair. The sight beside you makes you stifle a laugh, and in that moment you realize something: while he constantly irritates you, Satoru Gojo is the brightest, liveliest thing in that damn room. It’s not saying much given the plain wallpaper, dull sheets, and dusty furniture, but it all amounts to him looking pretty good despite your surroundings. If you weren’t sober right now, you’d admit that he looks pretty good just about anywhere. He’s so unfitting, literally, in the drab, cramped space that you almost want to let that very laugh out.
“Eh…I don’t believe you, but even if they weren’t... I couldn’t avoid them in this room anyway,” you joke sleepily, reaching for the fork and pushing the bite of cheesecake past your lips. He’s sitting pretty close, near enough that his spicy cologne still dances in your senses, but if he were any closer you’d swear you could spot him watching how your lips attached so tightly around the plastic silverware. You’re trying desperately to avoid the fact that sharing the fork was like indirectly kissing him, because if you think about it long enough it’ll make you blush all over again. So much for keeping a distance between you two.
You realize something else: he might’ve had a point with his dessert selection. “That is pretty good,” you commentate, handing him back the fork. There’s almost a soft expression on his blindfolded face when he wordlessly pushes the rest of the heaping slice between the two of you, as if the sugary dessert could substitute for a peace treaty. This is how all truces should go, you silently decide.
“Here, have some more in case you die tomorrow,” Gojo tuts with a grin, knowing fully well that you’d be perfectly fine during your assignment the next day. He loves to poke at you, but he can also recognize all the hard work you do. Hell, putting up with him was a full-time job, he could admit.
Your mouth flies open to let out a lighthearted “You asshole,” and you reflexively move to smack his shoulder. You’re even more shocked when your palm actually makes contact with the muscle there..as is he.
Gojo had turned his Infinity off. He must’ve gotten so caught up in wanting to break down your guard this evening that he neglected to remember his own.
“No way, I actually landed a hit on the Satoru Gojo,” you beam. Triumphantly taking another bite of the cheesecake, you feel his gaze train on you. His face-chiseled, you have to say- is conveying something unidentifiable. There’s some surprise and some amusement, but there’s another emotion lingering in the slight rise of his light eyebrows and his relaxed jaw. Something deeper, almost longing. It honestly concerns you for a moment, but he’s quick to recover by slumping backward over the chair, clutching a hand where yours landed just seconds before.
“Abuse! How dare you!” He declares, gripping his shoulder in the throes of his dramatics. “Yaga will be hearing about this. I’m reporting you to the higher-ups!”
“Don’t even. I’ll tell them you sabotaged my technology then,” you counter, waving your phone. “Oh, and that you misused company funds.” You point accusingly at the heap of cheesecake between you both. “And then we’ll both get fired.”
His fists hit the table as he falls forward dramatically. “Ugh…But then we’d end up living here,” he sighs woefully, “and that would be the worst part of all.”
You openly crack up at his refreshing honesty, finally recognizing this room for the shithole that it is, and you feel a newfound warmth spread throughout your chest. “Hmmm… But then we could keep ordering this cheesecake.” Maybe you like bantering with him, you decide.
Gojo chuckles as he stands up from his seat, dragging it back to where it resided in the corner and going along with your bit. “Not if we can’t ‘misuse our funds,’ you tattletale. We better start thinking of a side hustle to keep our lifestyle going.”
There’s a certain weight to “we”s and “our”s that make your heart palpitate just the slightest. It’s like a promise of a future together, a future beyond the uninspiring walls you were forced to rest in tonight. Still in your fit of tired giggles, you close up the remainder of the dessert before sticking it in the hotel room’s loud, antiquated mini fridge. The change of pace between you both is almost freeing, allowing you to consider the idea of actually sleeping somewhat soundly tonight.
“Well, you ponder on that. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” You’re quick to tuck into the bathroom as your laughter dies down, taking your bag with you to switch into the pajamas you packed. All the while, you’re secretly wondering what the sleeping situation is going to look like. You know you’re desperate for rest and given how the evening between you two has warmed a little, the idea of sharing the tiny bed with Gojo is…less than awful to you now. You step out, only to gasp when said man is right outside the door. He’s leaning against the frame with his own bag slung over his shoulder, grinning wickedly and looking all too smug
“My turn, princess. Coming through!”
The novel nickname flutters through your system as he squeezes past you, closing the door in your face with another low chuckle. God, he’s an idiot, you think with a smile, opting to perch in the seat he used for dinner until he returns to the room.
You’re playing a mindless game on your phone when you hear the bathroom door squeak closed, and Gojo plops back into the stiff bed. There’s no shirt on his sculpted body, only a baggy pair of black pajama pants whose waistband barely kisses his narrow hips. Humbled is an understatement when you try not to ogle at the sorcerer before you, whose murder you were secretly plotting just hours before. The skin on your face is akin to the Sun’s surface as you summon every ounce of will not to stare, but his Six Eyes promptly detects the sheepish change in your demeanor.
“So, you sharing this thing with me or what?” He looks over at you in the chair as he stretches over the traverse of the mattress, head propped on one hand while the other toys with his blindfold. “Since you don’t seem to care about my cooties anymore.” The repeated movement of those long, deft fingers looping around the fabric is enough to conjure a flashback to him eating those damn steak bites, and you feel hot all over again. It shouldn’t be suggestive, it really shouldn’t, but the way he’s talking makes it seem like he wants you beside him.
You rest your chin in your hand as you reply with a frown, pretending to think, “Hmmm. That’s gonna be a tight fit.” He snorts in response, something devious but expected on the tip of his tongue, and you realize it as soon as you answer. “Don’t even say it, Gojo.”
He feigns surprise, scooting over and patting the pillow beside him. “Pffft. When have I been known to say anything out of pocket?” He can’t deny the thought of fitting tightly somewhere else, his aqua eyes flashing with a desire he’s never allowed himself to feel for a long time. “Listen princess, you’ve only got two choices for tonight, so pick wisely. There’s somewhere tight-“ he pats the pillow again, -“or somewhere wet.” The thumb previously tugging on the fabric around his eyes jabs toward the bathroom door.
There’s that nickname again. “How erotic,” you snicker, wordlessly complying and letting your exhaustion guide the way to the empty side of the bed. It’s not a ton of space, but you’ll do your best to make it work. Carefully, you slide in to avoid touching him, realizing just how difficult that task is going to be in your limited amount of territory. Should you make a pillow border between you two? No, because then that would take up even more precious space. Maybe if you bunched up some of your blanket-
“Alright! Wait till Shoko hears about this!”
Gojo visibly approves of your choice as he watches you timidly sidle in next to him, wearing that stupidly eager grin on his face and whooping like a sports game attendee. Shooting him a playful glare and an “Oh, enough with you, Six Eyes,” you feel the cool sheets hit your skin, and your body erupts in goosebumps through your thin-ish shirt and shorts. You quickly face the opposite way as him, but not before stealing another glance at his ridiculously toned chest and stomach as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off. God, he smells so good, like minty toothpaste and his cologne. Darkness abruptly envelops you as your heart pounds, and you have a horrible thought: Who said I wouldn’t be wet sleeping here?
You hear Gojo release a barely audible sigh, almost as if he’s tentative to fall asleep beside you too. He’s not sure who to trust less, you or himself, but he hides his apprehension with a couple more quips as you settle into the compact mattress.
“You have any idea how many people would pay to be where you are right now? You are so lucky.”
He could talk in circles with you again for hours if it meant prolonging the inevitable vulnerability that is unconsciousness beside another person- though a deeper part of him reasons there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe there are other things you could do instead of talk, he thinks, doing little to shake the idea away. It’s kind of nice, way more than nice, the image of you all spread out below him-
The eye roll you respond with is felt by him but not seen in the lightless room. Clouded by an atypical hunger and pure fatigue, you murmur back, “Don’t worry, I tip well,” and a smug smile forms on your face. It’s kind of fun getting to poke back at him. That’s all it is, right? Harmless banter. Gojo senses your intentions on a level unbeknownst to you, though- and he’s not entirely upset at them.
“Listen to you! That was smooth. I just might give you a discount for that.” You hear the sheets rustle beside you, and you slowly turn. He’s fully facing you, boyishly propping his head up on his fist with his near-glowing eyes now exposed. You notice that his blindfold has now been placed neatly on the outdated nightstand. He’s keenly tuned in on you, finding your pajamas a little too cute for a pre-mission night of sleep. It’s clearly getting more difficult for him to deny how entertained he is by the sight of you all snuggled in on your diminutive side of the crappy hotel bed.
You pretend to cover your eyes after seeing his finally revealed to you, feeling thoroughly proud of yourself for matching his energy now. “Put those LEDs away, good lord,” you joke, allowing yourself to let out a sleepy laugh as you pull up the covers to give your bumpy skin some salvation. His intentful gaze is already doing plenty to send heat throughout your limbs though, and the act of grabbing the blanket is an effort in vain. As your eyelids flutter with the weight of tiredness, you understand just how close you two are in the moment. Mentally, you were so much farther away earlier in the evening than you are now- and it takes a second for you to process that you actually like the change.
Gojo laughs softly, and you can hear the late hour begin to seep into his tone. It grows more throaty, lower than before, and it’s entirely too pleasant. Part of you wonders if he’d consider the proposition of reading you a bedtime story. There’s a lingering tension in the air, nearly tangible, and it shifts when you note how his eyes flicker all over your face. Eyes, lips, back to eyes, back to lips.
“Maybe I wanna look at you a little longer. Are you gonna report me to the higher-ups for that, too?” Gojo bats his icy white lashes, his oaky scent further settling into the sheets. The only light in the shoddy room comes from his vibrant irises, and they’re spotlighting on you with piqued interest. The light has always come from him, and it’s an epiphany that has you scooting an inch closer.
“If those things blind me, I will.” You exhale through your nose, partially wishing you could reach out to the heat that radiates off his halfway bare body.
He blinks, and you swear the room flashes dark again for that split second. “Well, y’know, that might be a good thing,” he tries to reason lightheartedly, in a volume just above a whisper. “You wouldn’t have to look at this ugly room anymore.” You watch his hand- the same one you nearly salivated over earlier- land in the limited space between you two, almost as if it wants to cross that border. It takes the most willpower you’ve ever needed not to stare at it, feeling your face flush with a sick anticipation. “I’d be saving you.” Maybe it’s what he’s always wanted to do all along, you both think, and it encourages you to be just as coy back.
In this moment, you feel bold enough to say something you thought would never leave your mouth: “But then I wouldn’t get to look at all six foot three of you.” You pout sarcastically, and Gojo gets the urge to kiss it right off your face. His grin is proud; it’s everything he never knew he wanted to hear.
Your teasing is like a silent permission for his hand to move closer to you, and your entire body stills when you feel it land gently on your lower thigh to play with the frilled hem of your shorts. Must be a pattern of his, you realize. He chuckles, and the sound is so low that you can practically feel it.
“Hmm… You’re right. Again.” Your work partner’s head tilts down slightly at you, and his expression is overcome with what can only be described as relief. “Guess I need to save you some other way.” He notices the goosebumps adorning your figure, and suddenly you’re pressed up against his broad chest. God, he’s so warm, you don’t even realize the way you’re curling right up into him. Somehow, despite your height difference, you fit perfectly along his lanky frame.
“Better?”
You are tired, fatigued beyond belief, but you’d be stupid not to stay awake to experience Satoru Gojo letting his guard down for you. Perhaps this dismal hotel room was a test of will for you two, and while you’re not entirely sure what denotes passing or failing, you do know one thing: Satoru Gojo is unbelievably comfortable to cuddle with.
Still…you wonder what would unfold if you pushed further.
“Hmmm… still not warm enough.” The words leave you before you can tame them, and the unspoken invitation behind them makes his eyebrows raise. The hand playing with the fabric of your shorts squeezes into your skin just the slightest, prompting you to look up at him where you see no reserves on his handsome (God, it’s good to admit that) face. His soft pink lips hover inches from your own, drawing closer like magnets.
“Really.” You feel a thumb rub slow circles along your outer thigh. “I can fix that for you, yeah?” His words shoot straight to your core as his head ducks a little lower, just breaths away from yours.
Well, you’re definitely not tired anymore.
“If you’re still offering that discount…” you breathe out. A rush of smugness allows you to bring your hands to his toned chest, traveling up to trace his defined collarbone. His skin is soft, almost velvety, most likely from years of keeping his perimeter so trained to avoid any unnecessary contact, and the act of smoothing your fingers over it becomes soothing.
Gojo’s lopsided grin conveys the desire he’s suppressed for so long, seemingly caught up in this new dynamic with you. “Nah, we’ll put it on the credit card,” he finally laughs before confidently pressing his lips to yours.
He is an entirely new taste, and you’re not able to reference his movements to anything or anyone; it’s another level of tact and precision. Did he plan this? His kisses are the perfect mix of messy and firm, and it’s clear he’s doing all but holding back. Something unlocks as he goes through the motions, maybe the realization of the snapped tension or maybe the feeling of you kissing back just as passionately, and his mouth soon scatters everywhere from your lips to your jaw to your neck in a flurry of teeth and tongue. He’s somehow magically in tune with your most sensitive areas of the exposed skin as his lips wander, leaving you to grab his firm bicep and cling as if he’s grounding you to the earth. The details of the dingy hotel room are completely abandoned as you feel your senses envelop, finally, with all that is Satoru Gojo, and there was truly no beauty greater than that.
Chest heaving, you almost let out a laugh at how rapidly the night has shifted. His well-trained hands travel, one squeezing the tissue of your breast over your thin shirt while the other dances just below the leg of your shorts. With all walls down, it’s pointless to hide the effect his touch has on you. If his hand moved any higher, he’d discover how wet you were- part of you dreaded how inflated his ego would become after that, but the other, hungrier part of you needed him to do it.
“Anyone ever told you-“ Gojo breathes out between his attack, brushing a thumb over your hardened nipple, “how pretty you are?” He is all too focused on drinking in your features, finding your weakest and favorite points. Your back arches ridiculously easily into his touch as you struggle to find the words to answer him.
“N-no one else that’s mattered.”
You’re sure his ego will balloon rapidly upon that little admission, but you partly didn’t care- not when he was capable of making you feel so unbelievably good.
He’s rightfully amused at how blatant your desire is now. “Oh? So I do matter to you then.” His other hand roams up your thigh, threatening to reach where you wanted it most. You snicker before a shudder erupts from you when a long, hot stripe is licked down your neck and over your shoulder, and it’s all you need to swing your leg over his, straddling him on the stiff, narrow mattress. The flex of his abs as he sits up to accommodate you is nothing short of poetic, and you find more prose in the clouded, desperate fog of his azure eyes when he watches you with curiosity. He immediately rests his grip on your waist, pressing you down gently onto what can only be described as a monster underneath his sweats. You understand now why he carries himself the way that he does: He’s fucking huge.
You push your chest against his, unable to stop the twitch of your hips when you feel Gojo’s hardness brush against your heat. The wetness of your arousal is sure to be felt through the fabric, and he’d be silly to halt your admittedly cute display of attempts in chasing just an ounce of pleasure. Your flushed face, furrowed eyebrows, small noises, it’s motion picture to him. However, he selfishly wants to be that pleasure for you, and he’s quick to slide a hand down your body to cup your pussy through your pajamas.
Your jaw goes slack as Gojo’s hand makes contact with your most sensitive area over your shorts, and the circles he rubs help him collect some of the condensation from the fabric. It feels good, but not good enough, and you can’t help but huff at the restricted movement. He is all too cocky when his hand pulls away, eyeing it with an intense mirth.
“Damn, waterworks, you always get this wet?” He’s half-amazed and half-amused as he studies his glistening fingers, his other hand gripping at your ass. “That’s so hot.”
“Shut up, Satoru.” You smack his bare shoulder before burying your face into it, feeling your cheeks turn crimson. He chuckles, finding you adorable when you’re embarrassed yet hating that you feel that way. He knows just how to help you get over that, and he starts by slowly sliding his body down, holding your thighs spread as he maneuvers his head onto the flat-ish pillow. You glare down confusedly at him in his newfound position, only to meet with eager cerulean eyes that are practically begging to pull you closer.
“Fine then, I’ve got other stuff I wanna do with my mouth anyway,” you hear him murmur from between your thighs, and his hand brushes over your clothed, throbbing cunt again. “Now sit, princess.”
“Huh? No, you won’t be able to breathe, I can’t.” Your head shakes vigorously in disapproval. Not that you didn’t want them there, but there was no way… you’d probably end up suffocating the guy, and while you had a more murderous urge to do that earlier this evening you’d much rather-
“Fine with me, now lemme taste you,” Gojo insists with almost a whine in his tone, not letting you respond before pulling the soaked crotch of your shorts to the side and licking a long, forceful line from your hole to your clit. You moan when he does it again, and again, feeling your knees weaken to finally sink yourself onto his mouth. The groan that vibrates against your nerve endings makes you look down, only to see his frosty white lashes flutter as you fill his senses. This was well worth the hours of wearing down your resolve this evening.
His movements become frantic, desperate to experience you now that he’s let his guard down this long with no dire consequences. You feel his tongue lap at your sensitive clit, and his lips kiss in your heat so loudly and wetly that it sounds like a porn scene. Your hands fly to his ivory hair, gripping till his scalp stings. This makes him groan again, and you can barely control the way your hips start to rock along his mouth.
Gojo breaks away for a split second, tongue dragging along your inner thigh with his cock nearly in pain because of he’s got you where he wants you. “Just like that, baby, ride my face,” he huffs quickly before returning to flattening his tongue along your clit. You feel him squeeze the cheeks of your ass, forcing you onto the hot muscle and encouraging you to continue.
He seems to be breathing just fine, you realize- which of course he is, he’s Satoru fucking Gojo- he could handle just about anything. It gives you the confidence to rut your hips forward, moaning louder when his lips wrap around your overstimulated nerve and suck hard. You earn a playful smack on your ass when his name slips out of your mouth, and the stinging sends you further into your frenzy for pleasure as you start to build up a pace. It’s addicting, really, the way he’s lapping and sucking at your aching cunt like it’s his favorite dessert, and you’re suddenly thankful that he has the appetite that he does. He breaks away for a second to spit into your heat, spreading your slick folds wide with those deft fingers of his, and that only has you rocking harder along his mouth when he reattaches himself. To him, you are so much better than any sweet he’s had.
You don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you’re tugging Gojo’s snowy tresses in shallow efforts to further bury his face in your cunt as you ride it, and he’s all too happy that you’re using him in this way. As his tongue prods up into your tight entrance, he feels his cock throb again at the prospect of how it would feel inside of you. He groans at the thought, and you feel it all the way up in your ribcage. He’s already picked up on the fact that you’re close, judging by how your frantic movements have sped up and the way you’re babbling incoherent praises that only make him ache more.
“Fuck, Satoru, feels so- good- please…”
When Gojo lets out a little laugh at that, you feel your slick dribble messily down your thighs. That hot, blinding pressure grows stronger under your navel when you grind harder on his tongue, threatening to spill over when he starts to flick it along your clit to match your pace. It all feels so deliciously good that you pay no mind to his nails digging into your flesh, his own way of ensuring he’s leaving a mark- as if he hasn’t decorated your neck in shades of blotchy fuchsia already.
“I’m-so-close….”
He gives your ass another smack with your breathy cry, looking up at you with eyes that nearly beam. You look down while your hips continue to drag along his tongue, finding him just so damn pretty while he’s eating you so good, and you ease your fingers in his hair. That impending sensation grows stronger, and he quickly parts from your lips to murmur confidently:
“I know, princess, I got you. Lemme have it.”
His choice of words and the way he immediately goes back to lapping at your heat are both more than enough to have you coming apart around his tongue in mere seconds. There is nothing in your mind’s eye but Gojo as your high overtakes you, fizzling through your being and prompting you to cry out his name as if it’s a chant. He soaks it all in, helping you ride out your release before slowing to kiss his way back up your body. You’ve never come that hard- and somehow, he senses this too. Your legs feel like jelly when he’s finally face-to-face with you, and his is glistening with your arousal. If he wasn’t desperate to be inside of you right now he could do that for hours, he thinks.
You lean in, capturing your lips with Gojo’s and wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him deeply. Your own taste on your lips does little to dissuade you from him, and for the next few moments, you both feverishly rip off whatever clothing is still unfortunately on your bodies. He, as gracefully as he can given the annoyingly small hotel bed, maneuvers you onto the pillow so you’re lying on your back, and you feel his heavy cock hit your stomach. He pauses for a second to study your features, finding that every inch of you is worth burning to memory. You’re stunning like this, all sticky and flushed and needy, and it’s all because of his efforts. He’s only more gratified when your mouth flies open at his impressive size.
“You're kidding. That's not gonna fit,” You sputter, still in your post-orgasm daze, but you feel your hole clench around nothing when you notice the filmy drops of pre beading around his thick tip.
His laugh is genuine, almost melodic as he pumps himself a few times. “Such a downer. We’ll make it fit, ‘kay?” Gojo promises with a goofy grin, letting his hand wander along your bare nipples and stomach before eventually revisiting your now sore cunt. You hiss in delight when he slides one of his long fingers in, and your legs spread automatically at the intrusion. Even in the most cramped bed ever, you’d realize you’d make room for him anywhere. You reach out, dragging your hand along his chiseled stomach, nearly in awe at how firm the muscles are there. He’s like if art was living, breathing, unrestricted from a canvas or frame.
Your hand slides further, silently encouraging his own to move so you can take over stroking his hardened cock as his finger curls along your hot walls. You moan quietly, watching his breath hitch in his broad chest- he’s not sure whether to watch your face or your movements, and there’s an eagerness within him that amplifies when he sees how tightly you’re sucking in just a digit of his. His hips jut forward slightly when your thumb brushes his sensitive tip, and he finally decides to look into your eyes. You stare back, wanting to say so much about how his are the perfect shade of blue.
“Y’know why I harass you so much?” He asks in a tone that reaches a new level of softness for him, and you entertain his question as he slowly introduces a second finger. The stretch is delicious, though you think it’s doing little to prep for the monstrosity that awaits you.
“‘Cause you’re Satoru Gojo?” You reply before letting out a hiss at a particularly sensitive spot he hits within you.
He snorts. “Well, yeah, and ‘cause I think you’re pretty. Inside and out. Gorgeous, actually.”
You blush a little at how he turns a silly banter into a very real confession, and you watch his eyelids flutter again. Actually, you feel kind of bad for being so lighthearted while he was being serious- that was his thing, anyway. Times like these were what made his bluntness endearing, and he continues, beginning to align his length with your dripping entrance after slowly removing his fingers.
“So, lemme prove it.”
Feeling all kinds of giddy you nod, angling your thighs so his hips can fit between them. His spongy tip drags through your slick folds, and it’s the most you’ve ever felt another person focus so directly on you. You look up at him, bringing your hands up his stomach and to his defined shoulders as his tip sinks into you just the slightest.
“Well, you’re pretty too, like otherworldly handsome,” you admit back with a timid smile, clearly trying to regain your breath. “Just couldn’t tell you ‘cause you were too busy harassing me.” You exhale when he submerges himself a little more, and he smiles back with his pearly white teeth. “You’re fucking huge, too… oh my god…” you add, moaning a little at how his cock feels nothing like his fingers. You hate to admit it, but it’s clear he’s set to wreck you.
“Naturally.” He’s using every ounce of strength to control himself from pounding into you, responding to your praise and your criticism all at once. Gojo slowly and gently pushes in until his hips are flush with yours, and it feels as if he’s tearing you from the inside. Your face is scrunched at the intrusion, and he has to cover his own mouth to stop a moan at how tight you feel. There’s no other convincing needed by him that your pussy was practically made for him, he thinks, and he studies your features for any indication of stopping.
“Look at you,” he coos, nearly mesmerized by how your cunt has already swallowed him whole. His hand slides down his face to tweak at one of your hardened nipples. “And you said I wouldn’t fit. Takin’ it like a pro, princess.” His lighthearted motivation makes you snicker a little, and it eases some of the stinging from the stretch he’s causing. He gives you a few shallow thrusts, and his eyes practically roll to the back of his head when your hot walls grip around him. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to his size, and when finally you do, you give him the silent go-ahead by softening your expression. His grin could blind a room full of people when he thrusts deeper, not only reaching that same sensitive spot but finding another, and it makes your head loll back to the pillow.
That reminds him. He pauses for a second to slide one of the cheap hotel pillows under your tailbone, and suddenly his cock feels like it’s colliding with your guts when he continues his movements. Your mouth couldn’t fall any more open as he starts to establish a pace, filling you so masterfully yet harshly with every stroke.
“Sa-to-ru…” you pant, digging your nails into Gojo’s sculpted back, and this only motivates him more. You have a realization that could either be horrible or amazing: How could you ever fuck anyone else again? Again and again he’s thrusting into that magical spot till the sounds of your wetness fill the otherwise lackluster room, spoiling you for any other and reassuring you that yes, he really is the strongest. Part of him knows how skilled he is, and he has to refrain from laughing- no one would ever be enough once he was done with you. Then again, he never wants to be done with you.
You feel his tactful hands roam your body aimlessly, a visible sign of his enrapture with how you receive him. He wants to focus on watching his cock slam into your cunt over and over, but he also wants to watch your face as you writhe and cry out his name- he’s clearly conflicted.
The little breathy noises slipping out of him aren’t helping your cause, and the way he abruptly throws one of your legs over his broad shoulder doesn’t either. He’s now rutting into your tight heat relentlessly, a stark contrast from how delicately he’s kissing up the thigh that’s pressed into his chest.
“Your pussy is...perfect,” you hear Gojo groan, drawing the words out, and his kisses along your thigh become animalistic as they turn into bites. You whimper, back arching with all the sensations filling your system, and that heady feeling in your tummy begins to strengthen again. “Wanna-fuck you- forever…”
“Please,” you agree as your ability to form sentences leaves you. “Don’t ever- stop…”
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t. As one hand holds your thigh to his chest and the other travels to your overstimulated clit, his shiny blue eyes watch your contorting face, smiling proudly when you moan at how his fingers rub tight circles along your nerves. He can feel his release approaching alongside yours, and your slick walls flutter around his cock as he pummels into you.
“Want another one, princess,” Gojo pants, making your skin smack against his as your orgasm builds up in your tummy. “Go on, come on- my cock…”
His wish is your command. You quickly lean forward, mashing your lips with his when the pleasure fizzles out of you all over again. You feel the tips of your toes burn at how powerfully your release hits you, wracking your body with an almost overwhelming amount of pleasure. You’re reduced to a heaving, shaking mess, convulsing around his length and left only able to babble his name against his mouth in your state of bliss. His hand cradles the back of your head as he fucks you through the aftershock and kisses you roughly, only to follow close behind just moments later. His movements falter before your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as you feel yourself start to fill with his thick seed.
Holy shit. Who would’ve guessed that this was how your evening would turn out? Just mere hours ago you wanted to claw at his throat, and instead you clawed at his back because of how good he was dicking you down. Your mind swims as Gojo slowly withdraws, slipping out of your sore cunt to collapse beside you in what little space the hotel bed offered. He’s even gorgeous like this, maybe more than ever actually. You’re observing how his ivory hair sticks to his forehead and his back glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat from his efforts, the muscles there decorated with thin red indents from your nails. It’s a sight worth recreating an infinite number of times.
Not having him envelop all your senses anymore forces you back into reality, where a mission lies just hours ahead of you and your shared hotel room isn’t any prettier. And unbelievably, those things don’t even matter anymore. All you can perceive and recognize in your afterglow is Satoru Gojo, who is already regaining his breath while you lie there like a fucked-out mess. Beautiful.
Gojo turns to face you, watching your chest rise and fall as you regulate yourself, and his delighted grin is all too perfect for someone who just obliterated you.
“So…you warm enough now?”
Your sticky body shifts to face him, vibrating with laughter as you answer “For now, yes…” and your head hits the pillow exhaustedly. That’s right- you were already tired before this “development” even happened.
His whole being is pure elation as he languidly drapes an arm over your bare figure. “Does that mean we get to do that again? I think she really likes me.” His hand brushes over your abused cunt, and your body flares at his touch yet again. It was a sick epiphany that he could destroy you and you’d still want more.
You snicker. “Yes, but she is super sore right now.” The sleepiness from earlier seeps into your brain, and you find yourself curling back into his lanky frame. He accepts you openly, resting a hand on your ass as he scoops you closer.
“I can kiss her better,” he pipes up quietly, already thinking of all the ways he could keep touching you. Even though you feel that droning buzz of want again, you tiredly shake your head, regretfully reminding him “Noooo, we’ve gotta get up in a few hours. Maybe after our mission.” You swear his eyes desaturate a shade before he sighs.
“Yeah yeah yeah. You’re gonna be tired and sore anyway.”
“Oh, and you’re not?”
“Nah.” Gojo moves to press a fresh batch of kisses all over your neck, and you shudder. He did have a point- you were already planning on shotgunning whatever energy drinks were in the dingy hotel lobby’s vending machine in the morning, as if they even had one. “I could go all night if you wanted, princess. Give you more of my cooties.”
You laugh freely, realizing he probably wasn’t exaggerating. It’s quite the offer from the one who just wrecked you so good- and you’d be silly to refuse despite your tiredness. You feeling your limbs tangle into each other’s, returning thoughts of the hazardous hotel drifting away once more, and your arousal slowly revisits you. What an incredible way to forget about your surroundings. You tug playfully on his icy tresses, you decide that this might be your new favorite kind of exhaustion. “As long as you don’t share your cooties with anyone else.”
Snickering, Gojo keenly zeroes on spreading your aching legs so he can see the aftermath from earlier, and he’s hardening again at the sight of his thick cum barely trickling out onto your thighs. With a mischievous smile, he assures you, “Never. This is just too pretty. Plus, you said you were gonna tip well.”
His hands trace you, and there’s not a more discernible indicator of your new bond with him than when you look down at his length, answering him in a familiarly cheeky tone, “Well, you already did.” He laughs, the warmest he's ever allowed himself, and it's certain he's keeping his promise.
Turns out, Shoko was right about him.
587 notes · View notes
rosedom · 3 months
Note
Mirror sex w them genshin pretty boys?? Thinking about baizhu or kaeya sending you a video of them playing with themselves to rile you up knowing you're at work and begging you to come home just so you can satiate their hunger.
And once you do come home you fuck them Infront of a mirror telling them how much of a whore they are and make them squir-
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"an unnamed player has invited BAIZHU and KAEYA to play . . . reflections of body
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✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, mirror sex, vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, praise & dirty talk, alluded dacryphilia (kaeya) .
A/N : sorry that this took so long >< i had finished it the other night, but i forgot to save; i ended up losing the majority of kaeya's part . . .
"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."
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Your phone lights up, a quiet ping in the otherwise silent office. You've got yourself neck-deep in paperwork, scribbling silently and going over contract after contract; really, you wouldn't have even bothered answering your phone, but when the screen reads your husband's name, you just have to.
Scenarios of, What if he was in trouble? What if the house burned down? What if, what if, what if? filtered through your mind as you hurriedly grab the device to see what he send.
At first, it worries you to see only numbers followed by a .mov in the notification bar, right under his name. You tap on it quickly, tense and ready for something, but—
"Ah!" your husband cries out your name, the speakers of your phone unbelievably loud in the silence of your office. You jump, rushing to press mute; but just before, you press your phone to your ear, the sound one notch off of being silent, and you hear, "I—I miss you.
"P—please," his voice continues to sing, "come home. I need you, please, 'm so hard for—for you!"
Well, fuck. Now you're hard for him; and you're still on the clock.
Great.
At least now you have the rest of the workday to think of how you'll make him pay.
Let's hope that hard-on of yours can be willed away, yeah?
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Baizhu paints a pretty picture like this.
"So shy, all a sudden," you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. Behind him, like this, you're not normally privy to the pretty looks that cross his face; normally you don't like to be front-to-back with him, unable to watch him.
But like this—God.
"I was behind on today's quota, y'know," you coo, nudging the head of your cock against Baizhu's drooling cunt. He whimpers, soft, trying desperately to buck down into the pressure but is forced to stay still, stay hovering above you, by the grip you have on his rather frail hips.
"What happened to all that confidence earlier?
"All because of this needy lil' cunt—" continuing, you pause for a moment to lick at the thin skin of his throat. The angle is admittedly odd, but he shivers beneath you all the same.
He shies away from his own gaze, reflected back on him in the mirror—to his wide, golden eyes; to the snake-like pupils widened to almost, nearly swallow them up. You sigh, watching the way his eyes refuse to rake over the beautiful sight you greedily take in.
"Look at yourself, sweetheart," you murmur.
He shakes his head, and you click your tongue. "But you're so pretty," you continue. "I'm only gonna let you have my cock if you watch yourself."
At that, he brings his gaze back to yourself. He stares directly into his own eyes—you know, that he's not actually looking. You cut him some slack, though. This isn't easy, for him.
You kiss the side of his neck again, a soft thing, and turn your face to the mirror. With the gentle grip you have on his hips, you rub him against your cock.
"Good boy," you coo, your cockhead tugging against his sloppy hole. "C'mon, baby. Sit on my cock, and watch yourself take it."
Like a moth drawn to the light, his pretty, pretty eyes fall to the swell of his own cock, to the way your cock catches and sinks in deep to his cunt.
"You take me so perfectly," you groan, puffing hot air against his skin. Now, with him sat squarely on your lap, you can pull one of your hands away from his hip to spread his folds, to finger at his cock.
He arches against you, pressing into your fingers and grinding on your cock in tight circles. "Please," he cries, and you answer only with a heady sigh, another drag of your cock inside him. Disobedient, he tries to close his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure; but, alas, you release the saccharine friction of your fingers to cup his jaw, to squeeze his cheeks lightly and force him to watch himself.
Instead of reprimanding him, though, you kiss his cheek and bring your fingers back down to quickly rub at his cock, giving him only the soft command to, "Watch yourself cum."
Baizhu's chest heaves, and then he's melting like butter into your arms. He grinds harshly—harsher than you would have expected, surely—against you before he's taken by orgasm.
"Go on, good boy, so good for me," you mumble, pressing into him continuously to bring yourself over your own precipe; but then his eyes flutter shut, and you can't even reprimand him for it as his cunt spasms, an erratic clench and release, before he fucking squirts.
Small splatters of cum fall to the mirror, and, truly, it's as amazing a feat as it is an arousing one. Being able to see the way he tremors in your lap, watching the way he squirts right onto his own reflection—it all sends you tumbling over your own edge.
You moan into his throat as your own orgasm forces you to close your eyes—to instead focus on the clench of his cock, of the breathlessness of his voice and moans—, Baizhu's body warm and soft against you.
You fill him easily, readily, his body accepting all you have to give. "Greedy, greedy," you mumble, your cum-wet fingers dragging away from his mons and to his hip. He only chuckles, breathless.
Quiet minutes later—the silence filled only with both of your harsh breathing—, you gently lift Baizhu from your cock. He mewls softly, and both of your eyes watch as your softened cock pulls out, a mess of both thick and thin cum—yours and his—spilling onto your lap.
Ah. It seems the mirror isn't the only thing soaked, after all this.
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Kaeya's thighs tense and un-tense, small, rhythmic motions that make him shiver in your arms.
"Little dove," you murmur, leaning over his prone body. "Look at your pretty face." You've got him cornered, your body blanketing him and trapping him between your arms and the bathroom counter-top.
He nods, meets his own eyes. He obeys easily, but his fingers curl into your forearms. "You gonna fuck me, or what?" he asks.
With a hum, you bring one hand down—his own hand falls aside, because for all the brat he acts as, he's quick to obide by your rules—and brush against his inner thighs, wet with his slick. "I dunno," you say. "You've already got yourself covered, hm?"
Rather pitifully, he softly moans and shakes his head. "I didn't cum." Kaeya leans forward, laying himself across the counter-top. The motion forces his ass to press back into you. "I wanted to wait—for you," he adds, sweet.
He's got you wrapped around his finger, and he knows it. Regardless, though, you huff and laugh and follow him down, taking hold of his hips as you kiss at his nape.
"I'm not very convinced," you murmur again, smooth as butter, as your fingers dip into his soaked, loose cunt. "You're dripping."
"That proves nothing!" he groans, mumbles, complains—indignancy falling from his parted, bitten-up lips. He tries desperately to grind back into your, to press into the warmth of your cock, but your tight grip on his hips prevents him from any real purchase, any true friction.
"It proves everything, babe." You chuckle, not unkindly, but you bely your own words by beginning to grind your naked cock against his cunt. He can't move, held by you as he is, but he moans softly at your ministrations.
Soon enough, he starts to beg for your cock. Yet still, he adamantly denies that he ever came, earlier, and you're inclined to believe him; it's hard not to, with the saccharine way his cunt spasms around you when you sink in to the hilt.
He didn't cum, earlier—that's why he's so close, so soon.
With the way his soft cunt clenches at your cock, with how easily he starts to mewl and twitch and beg, quiet little punched-out sounds spinning your head. "I'm sorry, dove," you say, licking at his warm skin in tender apology. "You've been so good for me, haven't 'cha? Not cummin' at all, all day. Let me make you feel good now, okay?"
He nods, whimpering, "Please," and then you go and grind, deep and just as he likes it. Each grind, each thrust, sends your cockhead nudging at his g-spot, and Kaeya can't hold back any of his pleasured sounds—nor the way his eye wells up with tears.
With a tender touch, you release the hold you have on his hip to reach for his face. Never ceasing your thrusts, you tug away his eye-patch; the fabric is discarded to the side, no longer a barrier to block his tears.
"So pretty," you murmur, cupping his supple chest with the same hand as you use the hand still on his hip to tug him into you, into each thrust.
However, one particular thrust—one that makes his thighs spasm, his cunt dribble down to your balls—has Kaeya bowing forward, head dropping to the counter-top as he moans.
You tsk, bringing your hand back up to cup at his jaw, to gently hold his cheeks and force his gaze back to the vanity. "Look at yourself, Kae," you murmur, meeting his gaze through your reflections. "Watch yourself cum all over my cock."
His gaze flitters across the mirror: it lands, first, on the rouge that paints his cheeks, and he traces the flush until he's brought to his own chest, heaving with each breath and tremoring with his whining moans.
After that, his orgasm comes quick. His head falls forward again, but this time you let him; after all, it's hard to reprimand the man when you can feel his cunt clench in orgasm, and especially-so when hot slick splashes onto your thighs.
"Oh—!" he cries out, shivering erratically. The blush extends to his nape, to where you bury your face as you cum, filling him with deep strokes.
"You were so good, little dove." Small praises and sweet nothings spill forth, easy as anything, as you keep your softened cock snug inside him to let him come down from his high.
You pull your head from his nape when he begins to lift his head, and you breathlessly smile at him through your reflections. The tears in his eyes have spilled over, and you reach to thumb at them as Kaeya grins back.
"Good?" you ask.
He says, simply, "So good."
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i fucking love creampies. i hope that these ideas were to your liking, anon !!
8 FEB. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .
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thatforkedroad · 5 months
Text
Sun-hearted
[ao3] Anakin Skywalker is not human. The people around him try not to think about it.
----
Shmi had always known her son wasn’t like her. 
At first, she had assumed that the pregnancy had simply happened without her knowledge. Or that perhaps her mind had blocked out the event — a slave knew better than anyone how the brain killed the past to protect the present, to keep you surviving. 
But the more she tried to dig up the memory-that-wasn’t-there, the more she ran through scenarios, the more she realised that nothing that made sense. If it had been… any of her theories, she would have known, there would have been evidence, Watto wouldn’t have been so angry when he found out. Eventually, she realised she had to give up logic alltogether. Anakin’s father was not something knowable to her. He (it?) had been something else. Something impossible. 
A miracle.
The theory only grew more convincing as her pregnancy progressed. She began to sense things no human should have been able to. Objects falling before they’d even been knocked. Watto’s bad mood from two rooms away. Her baby’s strong soul, loudly proclaiming it would be a survivor. 
She held her new sixth sense dear for those nine months she had it — but not as dearly as she held her baby boy, to whom the sense really belonged. Her darling miracle baby boy, who always knew too much too soon, who read intentions as easily as he read schematics, and whose quick hands and quicker mind did the impossible on Boonta Eve. 
Slaves were supposed to cling to their miracles, so few and far between as they were. But a mother was supposed to do what was best for her son, and Anakin was her boy above all else. She let him go, hoping the Jedi would understand and care for his impossibility better than she ever could. 
(And as Shmi died, she did not need Anakin’s sixth sense to feel the anger running through his miracle veins. She did not need it to know what would happen next, either. 
She knew with all the certainty her slow-beating heart had that her son’s grief would raze the galaxy to ash.)
Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t fit in with the other younglings and padawans.
He wanted to believe it was just because of the boy’s upbringing, that it was only because he’d grown up in a much crueler, realer world to the others. Or perhaps it was because Anakin was already a padawan or because of how annoyingly easily it was for him to call the Force. Maybe they just heard the Council had tried to reject him. There seemed to be a few hundred thousand reasons that the children of the Temple would consider him an outsider — but one stood out like a sore and mythical thumb. 
There was no Chosen One or such thing as a child born of the Force. There was certainly no chance that the other children (even the ones who tried to accept Anakin with open arms) could sense otherness in his blood. He was just like any other Jedi, if a little more reckless. 
As Anakin and the other padawans grew, they grew together. He became like well-sewn patch on an old shirt — the difference was there, yes, but only noticeable if you were really looking. It was better for everyone if Obi-Wan stopped looking for the gap, so he did. 
Anakin had never seemed to notice it, anyway. 
(And as he watched Anakin’s slaughter of the Temple, the hot drowning of dread and horror and nausea was joined by a cold, parasitic realisation. The gap between Anakin and the other Jedi had never grown smaller; Obi-Wan had only grown more blind. 
Jedi were taught from a young age that they could not hold or control the Force, that they were to let it flow freely else they would face the consequences. Obi-Wan had been a fool to think that something made of one half Force and one half heartbreak could be held any more than its parent.)
Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka felt every clone in the hangar’s mood lift. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile in return — and then he cracked a joke, and the worry and grief of the battle became a distant, shrouded memory.
It always went like this. They came back from the latest campaign dirtied, injured, and with a tiredness that ached into their very bones. They all wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep and mourn and not talk to anyone for several hours. But then Anakin — still riding the high of a good fight — would clap Ahsoka on the shoulder, make a stupid comment to Rex, and everything would feel fine. Better than fine even. 
Morale seemed so reliant on him that if her master was angry or sad or upset, so was the entire ship. When he was in a mood, meditation became impossible, no matter how at peace Ahsoka felt. She once considered that it was more than just moral, more than just his stupid jokes, but she had grown up in the Temple, raised on lessons of a Jedi’s few limits. A single man could not project his emotions onto an army. 
Anakin just had a friendly smile, was all. 
(And when Maul told her — warned her — of what her master would become, she did not listen. She could not listen. She thought only of his grin, and the sunny sureness in her chest that always accompanied it.
And so she fought for it again.)
Rex knew, theoretically, that General Skywalker was human. 
He’d seen enough medical scans from Kix (on the unusual occasion that the general submitted to care) to know that Skywalker’s biology was just like any natborn human’s. He didn’t have strange-coloured blood or an extra eye and all his (mostly-intact) organs were in the right places. The records showed that he was completely, one-hundred-percent human. 
Theoretically, this made complete sense. 
And it made sense he would seem slightly off. Rex had spent the first decade of his life surrounded entirely by his brothers and Kaminoan scientists; his idea of a ‘normal’ person was someone who looked and sounded identical to him, not a tall, barely-tanned Tatooinian with the wrong accent. Even if it hadn’t been, Rex knew Jedi were different from your average natborn. They could do all these crazy things that belonged in storybooks and myths, not the battlefield. Swaying people, moving objects (or clone captains) with their minds, seeing the future — if Rex hadn’t been trained to do so, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it. 
But if being a Jedi had been the reason, wouldn’t Rex have noticed the same thing with Commander Tano or General Kenobi? He understood that maybe Commander Tano wasn’t old enough to develop whatever it was General Skywalker had — but Kenobi was older, more trained in the Force. Surely Rex would have noticed the same thing, that same surely-not-quite-human feeling with him? 
Maybe he just spent too much time around the General. Maybe this thinking was just a part of having a good natborn friend.
He hoped it was, at least. 
(And when Rex heard of the attack on the Temple, he understood his hope was for naught. 
He and his brothers weren’t an isolated incident, he knew; Ahsoka had felt the deaths across the galaxy. He had no doubt the clones on the battlefield cut down their generals — who trusted them like they trusted their own right hand, who stood alone in front of a one-thousand strong army — with an alarming ease. 
But he heard reports of the Temple, of blue-painted clones massacring all there, and knew they couldn’t have done it alone. Only one Jedi was strong enough to take on a Temple of their own kind and win.)
Padmé wondered if her husband was made from the stars themselves.
It seemed like the only explanation, sometimes. How could anything mortal be so beautiful? How could anything born on solid ground hold that much love in its heart? He was impossible. He looked her in the eye and saw right through every mask she wore, saw that all she was at the core was an overworked girl from Naboo — and still beamed like she was the most perfect thing in the galaxy. He loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him nor for the stature of Amidala. That seemed rarer than stardust. 
She would see him and her breath would catch with something that had to be more than love. He stood by the window and stared into the Coruscanti night like he could hear every thought in the city-planet, his golden-brown hair catching the edges of the hundred-colour lights. She ought to walk up to him, hold him, tell him she loves him and pepper him with kisses — but all she could do was stare. In those moments, he was perfect and divine, and she could not interrupt them with her mortality. 
(And as Padmé lay dying, her life force dragged out by some dark presence, she thought of her star-husband. And she thought of the refugees she had once helped when their sun imploded. It should have been a lesson learnt; stars were beautiful in the night sky, warm in the summer, but dangerous. Able to end entire planets in their own cosmic pain. 
Some small part of her knew this when she first said I love you. But she could not listen. She saw only the star-beauty in his eyes and all the love he held in his sun-heart.)
Anakin Skywalker had long questioned whether he was human or not. 
But as Darth Vader looked down at his mechanical hands, heard his pressurised breathing, and ignored the pain that followed his every half-sedated movement, he found his humanity was no longer a question. 
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