#Queue-y

[agere-clown]

❤︎Space Themed Kids Rooms❤︎

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.

tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k

you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.

you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.

you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.

the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.

you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.

sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.

the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.

[fear-is-truth]

the heffleys are still coming to terms with the fact that you, rodrick’s cool girlfriend, are a real part of his life. greg, for one, can’t wrap his head around it—how did his brother manage to land someone like you? he even has a tiny crush on you, which he tries (and fails) to hide. during playdates, he and rowley keep sneaking wide-eyed glances at you, pretending to be fully focused on video games whenever you catch them staring.

susan, on the other hand, is thrilled to have you around. as a mom of three boys, she’s practically adopted you as her honorary daughter, showering you with warmth and enthusiasm every time you’re over. she’ll share every childhood story she can think of about rodrick—some endearing, most embarrassing—while he sits there mortified. she’ll even drag out the family photo albums when you’re around, cooing over old pictures of baby rodrick in onesies covered with embarrassing slogans.

then there’s mr. heffley, who’s suspiciously nice to you. he goes out of his way to make sure that sure the house is spotless when you come over, almost like he’s worried you’ll wise up to what a disaster rodrick can be and leave. every time rodrick says something dumb, mr. heffley’s shoulders tense, and he sneaks glances at you, hoping you don’t suddenly see you’re too good for his son.

and manny… well, you do your best to steer clear of that kid whenever you can.

it’s a typical dinner at the heffleys’. you’re seated next to rodrick, his hand resting on your knee under the table as he gives you a lopsided grin between bites. across from you, greg keeps sneaking glances at your chest. little perv.

once everyone’s settled with their plates, susan clears her throat, leaning forward with a bright, overly cheerful smile. “y/n,” she starts, clasping her hands like she’s about to impart some life-changing advice, “it’s just wonderful that you and rodrick are so… close.” she gives an small, knowing nod, and rodrick stiffens next to you.

“it’s very important,” she continues, picking up a carrot stick and an onion ring, “for young people in a… special relationship to be, you know…” she pauses, clearly hunting for the most embarrassing words possible, before adding, “prepared for close situations.” she looks at you and then at rodrick, before doing a little… mime with the carrot and onion ring. greg yelps, “MOM!” and pretends to gag, slapping both hands over his face like he’s been scarred for life. mr. heffley chokes on his mashed potatoes, reaching for his water with wide eyes.

“just remember,” she says, completely oblivious to the horror around her, “things can get… spicy, but a smart girl like you knows to have… protection.” she gives another exaggerated nod, waving her “lesson” props before setting them down, satisfied. rodrick’s hand tightens on your knee, and he mutters, “oh my god, kill me now,” through gritted teeth, trying to keep his cool despite the absolute humiliation.

mr. heffley takes a deep breath, giving you a look that says he really hopes you won’t dump rodrick over this—but he’d totally understand if you did.

[dark-moonlust]

I’m sure there are more options 🤭

What did I miss?

[kingkaisen]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄!

🍔🍟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s one thing GOJO won’t accept, and it’s bad customer service. he’ll just have to fuck the attitude right out of the rude cashier.

🍔🍟 — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY || MDNI — semi-public, unprotected & hate sex, creampie, orgasm denial, brief spanking, sweet & degrading nicknames, manhandling, dumbification, oral, fem! reader.

🍔🍟 — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3K

🍔🍟 — 𝐚/𝐧: mdni template guide by @/kithsune. the reader does NOT work at mcdonald’s. screw mcdonald’s.

When Satoru Gojo stepped through the double doors of his favorite 24-hour fast-food restaurant — the door chiming to alert any potential workers of his presence — he wasn’t greeted.

That was the first red flag.

Truth be told, he wasn’t so entitled that he would expect to be greeted whenever he entered a place where customer service was expected, as most times, the employees were too busy preparing burgers and fries or wiping off greasy tables covered in spilled soda with nothing but a wet rag and an insane amount of patience.

But, it wasn’t the lunchtime rush hour. It was 1:35 A.M., and as he approached the counter, he saw only one employee, who wasn’t doing anything at all, aside from glaring at him.

As a busy man, Satoru wasn’t one to spend his precious time standing over a hot stove.

While he could cook, and his food was edible at the very least, his busy, career-driven lifestyle as an overworked individual meant that he had to rely on convenient fast food and styrofoam cups of chicken-flavored ramen more than he was willing to admit.

And, because of that, you recognized that white-haired man instantly.

Frequent visitor.

Always came in at the worst hours imaginable.

Liked to change up his order constantly as well, making it impossible to have his food prepared before his arrival.

“You again?” Frowning at the customer, you leaned over the counter, placing your elbow on the cold, gray countertop as your chin rested in the palm of your hand. “Did anyone ever teach you how to cook?”

“Did anyone ever teach you how to have manners?” Satoru shot back, his hands in his pockets as he halted his footsteps.

Those beautiful blue eyes of his scanned the big menu board above you, searching for the perfect hour-past-midnight combo.

Truth be told, he wasn’t taking a long time to order. Not any longer than most customers take, at least. But, even so, you rhythmically tapped your nails against the counter, sighing heavily with impatience.

“Something wrong?” Satoru darted his eyes down to you — the sluggish cashier.

“Can you just hurry up and order, please? I already gotta go cook whatever you want by myself without any help, so stop wasting my time.”

Satoru laughed, and you frowned.

What exactly did that lousy bastard find so funny?

“No wonder you’re not afraid to talk to me like that. And to dress out of dress code. There’s no one around to discipline you, huh?”

“Shut up,” rising from the counter, your frown only deepened, and his smile only widened. “Even if my boss was here, he wouldn’t care. Besides, the skirt is a part of the dress code, now just hurry up and order some-”

“But it’s not supposed to be pulled up that high, is it?”

Instead of responding, you grabbed your cup off of the counter, sipping on your favorite drink through the red, plastic straw as you glared at the aggravating customer.

“Are you gonna order or not?” You eventually questioned, your eyes glistening with annoyance.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Smirking, he pulled his black wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll have the number one with a coke.”

Silently, you pressed a few buttons on the POS system computer screen in front of you.

“$20.78.”

“That’s not right,” Satoru paused. “Way too high.”

“Well, I put it in correctly, so I don’t know what you want me to do about it. Can’t afford it?”

For a moment, Satoru simply stared at you. His facial expression was impossible to read.

Suddenly, he walked away from the counter, went through the black door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and was standing right behind you in only a handful of seconds.

“What-” Stammering, you looked back at the tall man hovering behind you, who stared the computer screen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to come back here.”

“And you’re not supposed to overcharge a customer, right?” Satoru’s body was only a few inches away from yours, close enough for you to smell him. Feel his body heat. “Let me take a look at it.”

No flippant remark was fired back. How surprising.

You couldn’t see his face once you turned to look at the white screen displaying his incorrectly rung-up order, but you could feel his cocky smirk as he pressed a few buttons on your screen.

“Here’s the problem, baby.” He said. “You rang up my order twice without realizing it. Is pressing a few buttons too difficult for you? Hm?”

Folding your arms across your chest, you refused to answer that smirking son-of-a-bitch.

“No answer? Oh, c’mon.” Suddenly, Satoru closed the space between your bodies, completely pressing himself against your backside. “You were running your mouth earlier. Why so shy now? Not so bold when there isn’t a counter separating us, are you?”

You gulped. And you gulped because that annoying customer’s hard bulge was pressed right against your ass and back, and — god — as much as you would like to slap him across the face, you found yourself slickly pushing back against him instead, just to feel it through your skirt a little more.

Your own desperation was embarrassing for you, but it couldn’t be helped. Not when he was so close.

“Oh, I see,” Reaching around you, Satoru’s large hand suddenly cupped your jaw, and he pulled your head up and to the side until you were looking at him.

“So you don’t wanna talk, you don’t wanna take my order, but you wanna try and grind yourself against me? I had a feeling you were nothing more than a little slut, and it looks like I was right.”

Before you could respond — not that you would have, as you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — Satoru leaned down a bit and smashed his lips against yours.

You sharply inhaled, gasping in shock, and he smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss.

With his large hand cupping your jaw, keeping your head in place, he shoved his tongue into your wet mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of you.

Feeling your tongue swirl around his as if you could keep up with the sloppy way he dominated your mouth was both cute and amusing to him.

He kissed you deeply like this so you would forever remember the taste of him. So you would never forget the feeling of his tongue rubbing against yours.

And when he pulled away, a string of spit falling from your previously connected lips, Satoru suddenly gripped your waist from behind, lifted you a bit, and placed you across the counter.

You were lying on your stomach with your ass exposed to him, and the entire scene was exposed for any potential customer who walked in to witness.

“What the hell are you thinking?” You glanced around, double-checking that the restaurant was empty. “Someone could walk in and catch us, you idiot.”

“Think that makes it pretty exciting, doesn’t it? Maybe they’ll enjoy a show.”

He wasn’t worried. Worst case scenario, he’d have to ask his friend in the government, Suguru Geto, to work some magic for him.

Satoru ran his hands over the back of your soft thighs. Then, he fondled your ass, raising your skirt and pulling down your underwear.

He gave your ass a quick spank, laughing when you yelped a bit.

“You know what I think?” He paused, running his fingers across the glistening lips of your pussy. “I think you’re overworked, aren’t you, baby? Pretty girls like you become all bitter and angry when they have to work so much because then they have no time to get fucked properly. Isn’t that right?”

Suddenly, Satoru bit his bottom lip and shoved two of his fingers inside your aching hole.

“This pussy’s pretty tight, sweetheart. Seems like I was right.” Pumping his long fingers in and out of you at a steady, quick pace, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you. I’ll make sure you get a good fucking.”

Muffled moans and the sound of cars speeding down the road in the distance filled the silence. Satoru, however, didn’t appreciate your attempts at quieting the beautiful noises he was eliciting from you.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Satoru ordered.

You removed your hand, which was previously covering your mouth. Placing both arms behind your back, Satoru held on tightly to your wrists with one hand and continued to curl his fingers up inside of your pussy with the other.

“There we go,” he said with a teasing tone. “I’ve had to listen to you run your mouth. Now let me hear you moan.”

“Oh my god,” you breathlessly moaned. “Shit . . .”

He was right. It had been far too long since anyone had touched you, and even then, it wasn’t as pleasurable as it was right now.

He moved his fingers with great skill. As you arrived closer and closer to your approaching orgasm — made obvious by the way you started to squirm — Satoru pumped his fingers faster and faster.

Just when you were about cum, he yanked them out of your clenching hole.

“Why-Why’d you stop?” You groaned in frustration. “Keep going.”

“No. I don’t want you cumming on my fingers. I want you to cum in my mouth.” With a smirk — although you couldn’t see his face — Satoru raised his fingers to his lips and licked them, sampling a taste of what he would soon devour.

“You’re an asshole,” you swore. Satoru only laughed in response.

He then got down on his knees, getting in the perfect position to eat you out from behind, releasing your wrists so he could use both of his hands to spread your pussy lips apart. “You ready? Don’t hold back, okay?”

Feeling Satoru’s tongue against your clit resulted in a gasp of shock erupting from your throat, followed by a lengthy moan.

He didn’t eat you out like a gentleman, either.

He licked, sucked, and slurped at you like a starving man.

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pausing only to suck on it. He pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

Your combined moans were a beautiful sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. His moans in particular added a bit of vibration as he ate your pussy.

Satoru gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, massaging them. The sheer force of his lips and tongue working against your sensitive pussy made your body rock back and forth across the counter.

Damn him.

“Ah!” You moaned sharply. “Oh my – oh my god . . .”

The pleasure was indescribable.

He knew exactly how to work his tongue, and the magic that came with having your clit licked at and sucked on had you squirming your arms around, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to find anything to hold on to.

You accidentally knocked your drink off of the counter and onto the floor. It splattered, ice and soda spilling everywhere, but at the same time, your cum was starting to spill onto Satoru’s tongue.

That was all that mattered.

He smacked your ass once again as he felt you start to flood his mouth.

God, you tasted amazing. Better than the food he originally came into the fast-food restaurant to eat.

If he could, he would have eaten you out over and over again. Made you cum onto his tongue over and over again. One orgasm for every customer you mistreated.

But he was in a hurry, truthfully not wanting to push his luck when it came to having privacy.

And, at this point, his clothed dick was painfully hard.

Satoru rose to his feet.

Suddenly, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, your back against the counter this time.

Leaning over slightly, he placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. It was undoubtedly his favorite body part of yours.

His eyes darted down to the red framed name tag above your right breast.

“Y/N, huh? Cute name.”

Satoru unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down.

Lining the tip of his lengthy cock up with your hole, he said, “it’s nice to officially meet you. My name’s Satoru. Make sure you moan it for me, okay?”

Satoru started to fill you up perfectly. His rhythmic thrusts, quick, yet steady pace — it all made beautiful moans flutter from between your lips without a second thought.

You were no longer worried about getting caught. With every thrust, you found yourself unable to focus on anything that wasn’t related to being fucked by your annoying customer.

“Ah, Satoru,” you moaned and whimpered.

He gripped your hips, his blue eyes flickering between your pretty, fucked out face and your bouncing boobs.

He increased his speed — god, he wanted to cum so badly. Desperately.

His desire to fill you up resulted in him holding onto the plush of your hips a bit tighter, slamming in and out of you a bit faster.

Skin slapped against skin. His balls bounced off of your ass.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Just lie there and take it for me. Take it.”

He leaned over. His mouth hovered above your ear, thrusts never slowing, and he whispered, “my pretty girl can’t think about anything other than this dick, hm? All you know how to do is cum and moan, is that right?”

With a low moan of his own, Satoru slowly licked your left ear. Removing one of his hands from your hips, he gripped your right tit, slowly gliding his thumb over your hard, clothed nipple. Those perfect lips of his detached from your ear only to trail wet kisses down your neck. His index finger flicked at your nipple rapidly.

“Shit, I can’t wait to cum inside of you.” Satoru hooked his hand under your knee, pushing your leg back towards your chest, which made you feel his cock even deeper than before.

“Satoru . . . gonna cum again,” your pathetic warning was followed by a whine.

“Ah . . .” Beads of sweat pooled across Satoru’s forehead. “So close, I’m so close, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your tight pussy was milking his cock like you were both put on this earth for the sole purpose of fucking one another.

With a loud moan, Satoru’s steady thrusts staggered in rhythm, and he shot his big load inside of you. Never had he come so much — he was almost embarrassed by it, stuffing your hole so sinfully.

But then, your pussy clenched around him, and your second orgasm crashed upon you like an enormous wave, overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t do anything except moan, cum, and feel Satoru’s dick throb and spurt out his semen inside of you.

You were both breathless. Happily fucked out.

But as Satoru pulled you off of the counter, the lustful gaze within his blue eyes told you that he wasn’t finished with you yet.

“Get on your knees.”

How obedient you were, following his orders by dropping down on the black and white tiled floor. He could hardly believe you were the same woman who had the nerve to be snappy with him earlier. The same woman who purposely wouldn’t give condiments to annoying restaurant regulars.

When you opened your mouth without him telling you to, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his cock throbbed painfully.

“You’re such a good girl,” Satoru grinned, pumping his cock with his fist.

“Hurry,” you whined impatiently.

Satoru gripped the back of your head. He shoved his dick in your mouth.

Instantly, he started to thrust his dick down your throat, bucking his hips yet again as he had done several times throughout the night.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long,” he spoke sarcastically and breathlessly, tossing his head back. “I know how many times you’ve kept me waiting for my orders as a customer. Doesn’t feel so good, does it, sweetheart? To be kept waiting?”

With a moan, Satoru gripped your hair even tighter than before. Your warm and wet mouth was working wonders on his dick. He already dreaded the moment in which he’d have to stop face fucking you.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he closed his eyes in pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum again already.”

Spit dribbled out from the sides of your mouth. Your hands held onto his thighs. The big vein on the underside of his cock throbbed against your tongue as he moaned louder, thrusts growing sloppy.

His sweet and warm cum flooded your mouth.

“Swallow it. Fucking swallow it, baby. There you go.” Breathing unevenly as he came, he held your head still, not daring to take his cock out of your mouth until you swallowed every last drop. “That mouth was meant for swallowing my cum, not talking back to me. You understand me?”

You hummed around his cock in response. The vibrating sensation made his dick twitch, spurting out the last bit of his cum down your throat.

Satoru removed his dick from your mouth, but he only gave you a second to breathe, because suddenly, he leaned down and he replaced his cock with his tongue.

Still gripping your hair, he kissed you sloppily — filthily — creating a mixture of your combined spit and the remnants of his cum you hadn’t yet completely swallowed. The customer moaned just to show you how much he was enjoying the taste of your mouth. How he cherished the mess you were both making.

Eventually, Satoru pulled his tongue out of your mouth, ending the kiss with a quick bite at your bottom lip.

Like a gentleman, he helped you off of the floor.

You both started to put back on your removed clothing items or straighten out what had gotten disheveled.

“Are you still hungry?” You asked rather shyly, running your hands down your skirt, smoothing it out.

With a small laugh, Satoru said, “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot about the food.”

You washed up with low-quality soap and water as best as you could. The raggedy soap dispensers could surely use an upgrade.

Then, you made your way into the kitchen, preparing Satoru’s order as he waited patiently.

You gave him his hot bag of food with a soft smile.

Opening it, he saw plenty of napkins and condiments.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Grabbing the bag and his drink, he winked at you before he started walking away from the very counter he just finished fucking you across. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Okay,” your sad mumble — which was from the fact that he was leaving already — had quickly changed as you started to realize something. “Wait! You forgot to pay!”

Satoru wholeheartedly ignored you. Stepping through the exit doors, which dinged as he opened them, he left the fast-food restaurant and got into his car. Pulling out his phone, the man set a reminder to wipe tonight’s surveillance camera footage in the morning.

It was rather fortunate that he owned the restaurant.

♡ — 𝐭𝐡����𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

[ridingtorohan]

Could you write how the crew would react to the reader saying something sexual out of the blue?

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 content. nothing sexually explicit. pre-relationship for all of them.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist

It takes a few seconds for him to process it; it's interjected in the middle of the conversation so seamlessly that it takes Curly to even realize what you said.

"Let's try to keep this professional, alright?"

Later, when you walk away you can swear that you heard him let out a choked laugh.

Curly thinks it's amusing as hell, honestly, and is a little tickled that you're comfortable enough to make those kinds of comments with him. The captain. He's used to people toe'ing around him because of his status so this is a real breath of fresh air.

Grins really wide if it's sexual comments targeting him (like his looks, or something). But he won't reciprocate (yet).

However, saying it in front of the others is the definite way for him to shut it down fast. It's one thing if it's with him, it's another to do it in front of other people.

Misses those remarks terribly if you stop altogether.

The conversation dies right there with Jimmy giving you a dead man stare, eyebrows low on his face. "Seriously?" he'd ask with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. Otherwise, he doesn't say anything about it.

He pointedly goes back to the conversation before your ''rude'' interruption.

He definitely pocketed that for later.

The first time he does it is in passing, some kind of innuendo as he strides past, hands in his pockets as he makes his way to the cockpit.

He likes to see you get flustered or ansty though, so Jimmy will try his best to say it outright, to your face.

Absolutely does not care who overhears; you started it, so it's fair game, yeah?

It's rare for him to get flustered but he'll probably get pissy about it if you succeed and avoid you for a whole day, sulking.

Becomes a little aggressive in trying to one-up you afterward, but will smooth out once you reciprocate again.

Jimmy is definitely a little grouchy if you spurn him from making those comments in the first place. ("Really? After what you said?") But would eventually back down.

Anya is definitely caught off guard, her eyes widening and her weight shifting on her feet. "Oh."

She's a little used to unsavory comments directed towards or at her, but this is different. It's from someone she actually likes. And she can't quite tell if this is discomfort because it was unexpected (and in a good way) or if she wanted you to stop.

If nothing else, she's confident in knowing that you'd back down if she told you to.

Kind of cagey in general, but ultimately lets you say them, especially if you two have been friends for quite a while.

Generic or joking comments would go a lot further; she'd smile and indulge you, but not actively make them in turn. If/when she does, it'll be the most out of pocket thing that'll have you turning to stare at her. She's knowledgable, she just doesn't find it savory to make those kinds of comments herself.

Finds it super sweet if she ever makes you flustered. (Probably does it when she has to enact a physical exam of some sort, where she's up close, eyes locked. Definitely apologizes profusely afterward.)

Absolutely loves receiving the complimentary ones that are vaguely sexual. "Damn, girl, your hands are so fine, why don't you put them on me?"

Swansea just takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, the epitome of a disappointed dad. "That something you heard from Jimmy or Daisuke?"

He's not even phased, so you'll have to up your ante if you're trying to get a rise out of him.

Secretly, a little flattered that you said something like that to him. To him, it means that either you're comfortable enough to be yourself around him or that you're interested in him. A solid win-win either way.

Doesn't bring it up but does act more favourably towards you.

If he does bring it up, it'd be in a casual conversation, or right after you made another comment. Except he ramps it up to 100, and makes it the raunchiest, most sensual phrasing that you've ever heard.

Eyes you over whatever he has his hands on, amused smirk on his face, "If you're going to do something like that, kid, make sure to put your back into it."

Always wins if you try to one-up him. Swansea has game.

It's such an innucuous phrase that he doesn't even process it at first. "Uhuh." Then Daisuke's expression speeds through a myriad of realization, his jaw dropping. "Wait, what!?"

Absolutely flustered and shocked.

"Are you even allowed to say things like that?"

Either takes him forever to calm down or he recovers in 0.5 seconds flat. Depends entirely on what was said.

Might have preened to Swansea about you putting the moves on him, even if the comment wasn't directly related to him.

Definitely tries to tease you about it, even insinuating that you have a crush on him.

Tries his best to get you back for it but it's honestly a mix of awful pick up lines and botched advice from Swansea. Sure, he's had people make comments like that before, or flirted with him, but it's different when it's you.

Daisuke definitely becomes super giddy if you keep it up.

[restinsodaroni]

Can do! ✨

It’s in Sun’s code to get 100% into character lol

[fceriegifs]

Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley featuring Jonesy

ALIEN (1979)

[agere-clown]

❤︎Dinosaur Themed Agere Moodboard❤︎

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. boob obsessed!geto x female reader. smut, pwp. (big) tiddy appreciation. exhibitionism. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, darling’. not proofread ! queued

“aht aht, don’t you dare look up,” suguru warns the non-sorcerer who’s grovelling before the both of you. the man was about to lift his head, but decides not to after hearing your lover’s cold tone.

suguru’s hands continue to massage your breasts nonchalantly, keeping you trapped on his lap. he’s been doing this for an hour now—teasing and fondling your body in front of the low lives that come to him for help.

it’s like he’s mocking them by not paying attention to their pleas, solely focusing on you instead. you’re more than embarrassed by the fact that your tits are on display, but suguru makes sure that the visitors can’t see you by commanding them to bow and not lift their heads.

he’d kill them on sight if they caught a glimpse of you.

“s-sugu,” a whine in the form of his name leaves your lips. his fingers are digging into the flesh of your breasts, squeezing and massaging them in circles. the kimono suguru had asked you to wear, is now pooling around your waist.

‘easier access,’ he said. you only now understand what he meant by that.

“shhh, keep it down, darling,” suguru nibbles on the curve of your shoulder, long black locks of hair tickling your exposed skin as they get in front of his face. you shiver as he pinches your nipples and twist them before pushing your breasts together. he sighs, “don’t want those filthy monkeys to hear your pretty voice.”

you squirm on his lap. his saliva stains the skin of your neck, his breathing heavy against your nape. the pads of his thumbs press against your nipples as he pretends to listen to whatever the man in front of you is trying to say.

“move your hips,” suguru whispers against your flesh. you can feel him smile against your shoulder after leaving a small kiss there. you listen so well as you automatically grind against his crotch—earning a low groan from him.

“yes, just like that. back and forth��mhmm, what a sweetheart you are,” your lover praises you in a soft tone, “you listen so well.”

you’re amazed by his change of tone when talking to you; how he goes from cold and stern to the visitors to soft and sweet to you. you bite your lip as your ass grounds against his hard bulge.

your tits are still getting played with. no matter where or when, suguru always has to have his hands or lips on them. his eyes are glued to your cleavage and the way your breasts jiggle and flow like water between his fingers.

“say. . .” suguru starts off, tongue quickly wetting his lips. he kisses the side of your neck lovingly, ignoring the poor man chattering in the middle of the room. his dick throbs in his boxers and his eyes glow from excitement. his hands squeeze your breasts once more;

“would you mind riding me, sweetheart? ah, please—while facing me so i can appreciate these beautiful tits of yours.”

[fear-is-truth]

CALL IT SACRILEGE

preacher’s daughter!reader x remmick headcanons. MDNI (18+)

you never really liked music until you met REMMICK. every evening, you sit at his feet like a faithful pup, watching him strum his banjo under as the sky turns a lovely shade of bruise. the songs he plays for you aren’t the hymns you grew up listening to—those are replaced with irish folk songs that speak of longing and heartache, rebellion and freedom.

you don’t lie to him—because you know you can’t. REMMICK sees every filthy little fantasy that goes on inside your head. and being the attentive lover that he is, he acts on them.

REMMICK calls you his “sweet girl” more than your birth name. sometimes he lets slip, and gaelic rolls of his tongue: “a stór,” “mo chroi,” or “mo leanbh,”

you learned to fear your body the day you started bleeding. they told you it meant you were unclean, a temptation, a vessel for sin. REMMICK tells you otherwise. says your body is a vessel for pleasure, and proves it every time he spreads your thighs and dips his head. he loves it most when you’re on your period—drools for it, actually. claims that it’s the sweetest you ever taste.

you cried the first time (of many) he fucked you. not out of pain—no, but because it felt so good, and you liked it; all those years of sermons never warned you about missing out on that kind of sweetness.

once, you were told pleasure was a doorway to hell—now you live past the threshold every night, legs open, hands gripping the sheets. REMMICK never lets you forget how badly he wants you. you’ve woken up more than once to find his face nestled between your thighs. eyes gleaming in the dark, a leering smile full of teeth.

you used to get bruises on your knees from hours of prayer. now they bruise for other reasons. the good kind. you kneel at the foot of the bed, nightgown rucked up at your waist. the wooden floor bites at your skin with every thrust, but you don’t ever want REMMICK to stop. not when he’s hitting so hard that you see god. one hand tangled in your hair, the other flattened over your abdomen. “poor thing,” he licks a hot strip down the nape of your neck, and that’s when you start to tremble. “nothin’ holy about what you need, is there?”

 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐈𝐒-𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content. ꕀ

[dark-moonlust]

Mοnster smut stories be like:

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Better on you

18+, MDNI, p in v, save a 🐎 ride a 🤠 ! Porn with no plot at all

“Shit.” He grunted, hands on your hips as he guided you up and down on his cock, your head was thrown bad in pure bliss before he hit the skin of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” He said, making you snap your eyes open and look at him, a smirk falling over his face, an idea popping into his head.

He looked gorgeous, nothing on his body except for his hat loosely on his head.

His hands reached for the hat, you furrowing your eyebrows as he took it off and put it on top of your head, fitting it onto your head. You glanced up at it and back at him.

“I like it better on you.” He told you, and he swears he could cum from the sight of you in that moment.

He looked up at you, on top of him, your hands strewn across his chest and his hat on your head. He let out a low groan again, and moved his hands back to your hips, helping you speed up as you let out a squeal.

“Sh- shit, Rafe!”

“You just need me to do everythin’ for ya, don’t you?” He asked you. “That’s a’ight.” He mumbled, watching as you came undone on his cock with a cry of his name.

[rafedaddy01]

Baby Mama

-

Holy shit. That’s all that’s on Rafes mind as you stare at him with those eyes and your lips move with the question he never thought he’d hear. He liked the idea, he’s pissed at himself for not thinking of it, it’s perfect.

“Don’t worry Rafey, your wife will never know. We’ll just tell her we did it at the doctors, like she wanted” you convince him with your sweet words and hands that can’t get enough of Rafes body. This was your plan all along. From the moment you saw the ad for a surrogate. You’ve been eyeing rafe for a while now. He’s rich, good looking, and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Who cares if he has a wife, that could easily be solved, and this was the answer to all your prayers.

You’re on all fours as Rafes hips move back and forth, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you. Your eyes roll back as he grunts with the force of his thrust, giving you everything he can. “Fuck. You dirty little slut, wanting me to cum inside you so you can give me a baby. Bad girl” he smacks your ass hard as you jolt forward from the pain but your mouth gives you away as you moan. “M’sorry daddy, just wanted to feel your cock inside me” he grunts from your foul words and continues his monstrous torture on your pussy.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you and then you’re gonna be all mine. Mine to use whenever I want, mine to kiss whenever I want, and mine to fuck whenever I want” his hips speed up if it’s even humanly possible, your nails digging into the mattress and your sure their tearing it to shreds, but you don’t care. It feels too good, you don’t want it to ever stop and the idea of being his makes your insides tingle.

It’s too bad rafe doesn’t know your on birth control, after all it was your plan all along. No way you’d actually want to get fat and bloated just to give him and his snotty wife a baby. This was simply for your own pleasure. And you got what you wanted as rafe groaned behind you, his hips slowing as you felt your pussy fill with his white substance and your legs shook with the force of your own orgasm. He pulled your head back by your hair, turning your face towards his and kissing your lips hard. “I really hope it didn’t work so we get to do that again”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart

[wordssoonforgotten]

Jinx as a girlfriend.

Takes the “Would you love me if I a worm?”thing to a very serious degree. When you ask she just smirk and says “duh” then would return with something like “Would you love me if I was completely unrecognizable zombie with a lust for human brains—your brains specifically?” (She fully expects you to say yes or she’ll huff for an hour)

She likes to touch you. She likes knowing you’re somewhere she can reach and not leaving anytime soon.

Yapper. She’s always talking. And you’re always listening. And you have to be actively listening to keep up with Jinx because she switches subjects every two-three sentences. (Works out perfectly if you’re also a yapper because the two of you can discuss six different topics in ten minutes)

Gets jealous easily. Big on PDA so people can know you’re with her.

I love love love the idea of using petnames like trinket. I think it fits her!

She really loves when you ask her opinion on things. What you wear, what for dinner, where she wants to go on a date, etc! It makes her feel appreciated.

Not the best cook, but tries for you anyway.

Takes you on very adventureous dates. Could NEVER take you on a boring dinner date because she gets restless and has to be moving. Carnivals, walks in the park or forest where she can take you on as many detours as she likes, children’s arcades, etc! As long as it’s active and engaging.

[ridingtorohan]

Moments of the Tulpar crew experiencing Hanahaki disease for the reader (pre-crash)

𓇻 content warning. no spoilers for the game. swansea's is left ambiguous if it's romantic or platonic. receiver's choice. jimmy's whole section is a warning; denial, mention of self-mutilation (not depicted), possessiveness, manipulation and implied sexual frustration. jimmy's ending line is not about sexual assault, he's just manipulative.

Hanahaki Disease

A condition that causes the victims to cough up flowers or flower petals, due to either unrequited love or repressed love for another person.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Read it On AO3! _ Masterlist _ Join the taglist _ Ask box

Yellow Chrysanthemum- a deep love that cannot be spoken.

"You have your space legs," Curly says, voice a low rumble in his chest. His hand smooths over your shoulder, feeling the shift of muscle. Through the flightsuit, he could feel the rumble of your laughter.

"Six times the charm, right?" You smile with the glint of your teeth, head tipped back to peer up at him. Warmth and roots lodge in his chest, like tiny tendrils of leaves crawling through him. Like being tickled from the inside, a radiated warmth that resonated through his limbs. He loved to look at your smile, how your expression lit up the whole room.

Curly remembered when the two of you were paired together, with you fresh out of training and new to travel. How queasy it made most people feel, even with the artificial gravity. He'd been the same.

Blue eyes dart low, watched as Daisuke threw a uno reverse down, giddy in his seat.

You shout back and reveal one of your own. The conversation devolved then to a bickering match and culminated in Daisuke's sulky expression as he scrounged around for a green.

"You should join us, Curly," you said, eyes back on him.

Stems lodged in his throat, petals curled against soft muscle. A bloomed flower, ripe under your attentive gaze. Everything inside him blossomed at your every word, fragile and wanting in his mouth.

"In a minute. Piloting duties." As he excused himself with a clearing of his throat, he reluctantly pulled away from your side, only to let his eyes linger on your side profile. How easy you interacted with the other Tulpar crewmembers; Anya and Daisuke especially.

Swansea grumbled in his seat and through some barbaric display of betrayal, threw down a stack of +4's on top of Daisuke's green before announcing the new colour (green). The pivotal horror only increased as you slapped your own on top, just for Daisuke to hurriedly slap through the deck. ("We don't even have enough cards!")

It's a gentle feeling; being in love like this. Feeling connected in more ways than a captain should. Than a captain legally ought to. Still, it reached up, through his body, like an ache that needed to be fulfilled. Eyes that always followed you; the attentive way he spoke to you. Every bone in his body whispered love, love, love. I love you.

Pilot duties was just an excuse. Safe from the rec hall, Curly raised a fist to his mouth as his chest heaved. A wet, sticky yellow flower fell from his mouth, devotion spelled out to the bone.

Curly doesn't hate you for this. He's lived long enough to cradle the emotions as they come, to take the small chances when he could get it. A captain's duties didn't extend to fraternization.

As he held the flower between his fingers, he couldn't fault you at all. Not when you smiled at him - like the crew-- like that. He didn't expect his love to be returned; loving you was enough. Even like this.

Honeysuckle- devoted love, whose entwined vines represent the difficulty to escape its grasp

The insufferable itching was the worst of it. Each swelled muscle, bulge under his veins; Jimmy has half a mind to claw into his own skin. Tear the flowers right out from him, bloody and whole.

He'd rather feel anything but this, this unfathomable twitchy lurch in his chest. How you made his skin clammy and pulse skittered. Half of the time he wanted to throttle you, the other portion involved throwing you against the wall and devouring you right there.

Because something about you demanded that he take, stake a claim on his person. Outside of Curly, you were the only one able to placate him, to have a backbone and withstand his hurled words.

He didn't expect this twitch in his body, the tension that rattled through him like a freight train. Jimmy, on all accounts of everyone he's ever been with, didn't do soft. He didn't do sweet.

With you, it felt like the best and worst of him was brought out. A willingness to scoff and turn the other way - however begrudgingly. The way his temper flared, quick to rise on the offense and defense.

Red, sickly petals fall from his mouth, stems and roots attached. He's aware of the damned disease; felt it in every rock of his body. Every time his arm so much as touched yours. The inescapable draw, the sway of the boat, the chasm that roared to life inside him.

They tore like a mother up his throat and no amount of scratches at his skin lessened the torment. You have him wrapped right around his finger, drowned him in a pool of your own making.

Jimmy all but hated you for it; hated your sympathetic frowns, the way you so easily acted with the nurse and Daisuke. He's imagined it many times, his fist clenched around your wrist, his mouth on yours. How hot you'd feel against his skin.

The way you turned your head, how your mouth moved so easily, focus rapt on Swansea over some bullshit. Holed up on the sofa, electronic board between you. A better student than Daisuke was supposed to be.

Jimmy's eyes darted over your expression, the way your nose moved when you breathed, the swallow of your throat. Under the simulated forest screen, you looked captivating. Forest light over your eyes that highlighted your cheekbones.

That familiar spasm resonated in his chest again, wet, hot and sickly, and he spat it out, threw the squashed pink and orange blossom in his fingers, roots slick with blood. All that left to the ground as he stomped ahead, hands planted on the back of the sofa.

"Sure, electronic work is all hoorah, but how 'bout I show you some real skills in the pilot's chair?"

He's definitely one to boast, and with the way your eyes turned up, it sent another tremor through his chest. Eyes narrowed, a challenge left your lips, his eyes quick to follow the motion.

Swansea scoffed with a sneer. But who cared about him or his opinions?

When you finally relented, the rattle in his chest intensified, that ache to touch reigning fierce. While Curly's presence deterred any advances Jimmy could make on you, he'd eventually get you right where he wanted you.

Forget-me-nots- the pain of loss and desire to hold onto memories and love

Psych evals weren't Anya's favourite task by any means, but it had been another aspect of her career. One that she chose, one that she'd keep choosing again and again. A step closer to the actual job she wanted; one with different stresses, different bosses. More stability.

For all that it was considered, one aspect that she liked most was to learn about you. How you perceived the depicted situation, how your lips pursed when you were in thought. How your leg shifted, how you once paced the room.

More than once, she'd been distracted by the lull of your voice, the stride of your steps, how your tendons moved beneath your flight suit.

"Good." She says, the word airy in her mouth.

When you smile at her, it is blinding, enough to make her eyes dart away, heart tender in her chest. With you, everything just so much ... less. Less frightful, less stress. Less constant noise in her head. She could breathe around you, bursting a garden for you in her lungs with each stolen glance.

For her, passing the flowers were easy. Mostly petals at first, loose and velvety to the touch. Then whole ones, beautiful and pristine, a testament to their circumstances.

She didn't feel drawn to you, so much as drawn around your orbit; like the Earth around the Sun. A star that burned bright in her eyes. She'd always preferred sunrises.

As the nurse, Anya has been expected to pick up on traits of her patients; learn their allergies, habits. How to better help them. Who helped the nurse? Who helped her when her heart galloped, cheeks a fire when she looked at you?

You were sweet - tender, when most others would look away.

It felt like a baptism by fire.

"That's a cool flower," you breathed out, when the silence lapsed between you.

She startled, hand to her mouth - but your eyes are distant, focused on the bottle she kept on her desk. Not that bottle was an apt term; a tall cup was more appropriate. Keeping a flower without roots was difficult; but forget-me-nots was simple. Easy. Swaddled in water, pretty blue petals frame the glass lip. A testament to her affection for you.

The end of her pen tapped against the clipboard. "Thank you."

Now, your eyes turn to her, lidded with approval and warmth. Her flower garden grows. "I never knew we were allowed to keep flowers here."

A smile lit up her face, immediate and without hesitation. Your approval, however small, meant the world to her. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction, of belonging. Of knowledge that she'd be safe and secure with you, as she always has been.

"It's a special case."

Eyes turn back, admiring the pristine petals. "Still petty cool though. Adds nice colour to the room."

She smiled and her chest hurt with the admiration and affection that ran through her. An intensity that swooped through her, fierce and devoted. "Thank you. I'll be sure to add more next time." She would; anything to have you keep coming back to her little corner of the world, to see your eyes linger, even if not on her.

"Sounds great."

You both turn as Daisuke poked his head in, grin wide on his face. "Hey, guys." Brown eyes dart to you with a pointed, "Curly was looking for you." You nod, fingers on your coat lining as you adjusted it. Anya tried not to focus on it.

"We'll continue this later?" You ask her.

Anya's eyes turn to the forget-me-not, alone and perfect. Even though psych evals weren't a choice, this was. And she'd always keep choosing you. "Yes."

Rue - fragrant flower that is used to ward off evil spirits, representing courage, repentance and healing

Feet step over the small, fragile petals littered over the ground. No matter how many times Swansea swept them up, they clung to his clothes and followed him. Even now, they cluttered his workspace, with one ground to paste around a bolt.

"Looks like a chicken was killed here," comes your voice. Swansea's mouth twitched, upper lip pursed as he doubled over his work. Wiring was delicate work, after all, and he had to correct the mess that his intern made before it affected anything.

Fortunately, he was able to rewire the grid for the time being.

"Shit's tough if a little flowers gets every inch of you knotted up," he answered, voice gruff as flowers tickled his throat. With a twist of his mouth, he coughed, and with the ease of a man whose been through this before, spat the dry buggers out and away from his workspace.

He could all but hear the shrug as you say, "Doesn't bother me."

As he set aside his tool, he leaned over for the spool of electrician's wire. Your knuckles met him, warm flesh against weathered hands as you pass it to him. "Thanks." As he turned away from you, he coughed again, each petal little more than a nuisance.

All the same, you hovered beside him, head leaned over his shoulder as he toiled away. There was something soothing and mundane about it, the way your eyes drifted over his hands, faded tan lines not yet gone.

"You want something or you just like babying my work?"

From his peripheral, Swansea could see the twitch of your lips, the wry wrinkle in your brow. How your eyes turned away, roamed over the assortment of metals he has strewn about over his work table, only to linger on the equally as vast array of pale yellow.

Telling him to see Anya about his 'condition' hadn't helped the last time you brought it up. Swansea had more than enough experience to believe that it'd be here to stay, to ruminate among the other seedlings left behind in his chest. This one festered longer than the others, almost soft and delicate. How he dealt with it was the same.

But you were different from the rest.

"You know me, always wanting to admire your work." There's that cheeky grin he knows and he snorts in amusement. Even when it was followed by a short cough, he turned his focus back on the wires. When that was sorted through, he leaned back in his chair, brow sweaty with exertion.

"Alright, get it off yer chest and tell me what's up."

There's that twitch of your head he knew so well, the cock of your mouth and the side-glance of your eyes. Even as you leaned against his workstation, hip to the edge, every side of you rang with familiarity. Cramped together on a ship for six hauls did that to people; it was easy to know their body language, their mannerisms.

Easy to love.

Swansea's head tipped back, lips quirked and brow shifted in a beckoning motion. With a sigh, as you always did, you began your tirade about your latest frustration. Jimmy was at it again, a string of months long frustration bubbled out. Cards up his sleeve - literally--, the snide remarks, the open hostility. A point of contention that Swansea knew all too well.

"Want me to sock him a new left cheekbone?" In response, you laughed, eyes shut tight as you doubled over. No holds barred, genuine and true to the bone.

A facet of you that Swansea always liked; you had been upfront from the get-go, earnest in your attempts to befriend the crew. In mapping out the ship, glad for Swansea's guidance as he gave you the grand tour. A genuity that he hadn't seen for a long time, let alone directed at him.

Most people scoffed at his age, dismissive of the years toiled away in labour, dedicated on one task to the next. Where the two of you may have butted heads, you always bounced back, prepared for the next go. It had reminded him of himself, when he was younger. Now, it just reminded him of you.

While you all too gleefully admonished him for the offer, he didn't rescind it. Because for all the things he admired in you, you fostered it in him too. A drive to be himself, to rebound after the goings get tough. Wakeup calls weren't as pleasant as your company, but for now he'd take what he could get.

Even if the flowers got in the way of it all.

Dahlia- representing sacrifice and endurance needed to thrive in harsh conditions as well as gratitude and commitment

His leg is stationary, twitching every so often against the table. Daisuke has already knocked over a few Sorry! pieces, not that he had much problem with that - Swansea was winning anyway.

The tv screen before you two was awash in a golden haze, a sun over a distant horizon, washing the sea in light. It's picturesque, letting him ruminate in the thoughts with a hazy feeling in his chest.

He's never quite been in love like this before, this upbeat, yawning, yearning chasm inside him. Where every touch gives him the jitters, where he just wants to wrap you up in his gangly arms and hold onto you forever.

He's never been in love where it aches, like flowers rooting in his blood. Out of everyone, he knows more than enough about the condition that saunters in his body; seen it enough times on his sisters. A hereditory predisposition, he somehow never grasped that he'd get it.

Not once did it ever feel wrong, like this was a burden. A phantom ache, it reached into his lungs and nestled there. He had seen the pink petals fall into his palms and he knew, 'this is love'. When he saw your face, felt his heart patter in his chest, he knew, 'this is love'.

Each time he opened his mouth, slid a packet of extra sweetener your way, he felt it. Just as he felt it now, resting low in his chest, stems of dahlias woven into his hair. Out of everything, he'll always be proud of it, of what you've given him. This life that throbs inside of him, the moments that never seem to pass.

Even though you've expressed concern whenever Daisuke coughed up a fresh one - whenever your shoulders so much as touched-- he was glad for it. Glad for how your leg shifted against his now, your arm all but crushing his. How you two are folded together, your eyes glued to the peaceful scene on the screen, while all Daisuke can think about is watching you.

How the light dances over your cheekbones, over your nose. How you nestle against him like you can't pry yourself away, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. As restless and ansty as he tended to be, he felt solid and complete right beside you.

"That is not what your book says," is what you say as your mouth twitched upwards, eyes crinkling at the corners as you look at him. Each glance has him grin and he felt like a kid again, one who learned how to draw again for the first time.

"It is so!" He chirped with a dramatic wave of the electrical book that Swansea had given him. "It is hella in here! Thomas Edison totally got the idea of the lightbulb from the flowers that wove around it!"

And you laugh, that sound that sent shivers right down to his bones and he grinned and echoed, unashamed of how he sounds, his heart and inner garden close to bursting.

"No way! I've read that book! He isn't even in there!" You smacked his shoulder and he doubled over, sides pressed to yours as he dramatically flourishes it closer.

"Is so!" He pointedly tapped his index finger to the paragraph he was on. As you squint through the dim light, he could already tell by your furrowed brow and rolled eyes that you had skimmed the page. Even as you jostled his shoulder, he laughed.

"Am I right or am I right?" He laughed.

"It's not in there!"

"It might as well be!"

Even as your laughter chorused together, he found himself all too eager to slide back up against you, the book propped up in his arm as he showed off the page. "...and he totally, radically, found purple petals. The end!" He concluded his paragraph. It was worth the elbow to the gut and the hard laughter. Because it was coming from you. It was all you.

"You said orange flowers last time!" You admonish, almost under your breath before you laugh, "But alright, go on then. Read the rest of it if you're so sure of it!" With a wide grin, he did, even when you rolled your eyes at his random embellishments, or when he completely derailed and started to rant about the invention of pizza.

For each moment that lingered between you two, it felt easy. It felt safe. Even when you gave up and grasped the book from his hands, when your knuckles touched and electricity wound under his skin, he knew it to be true.

As your hands drew out the flower bookmark he kept, half-squashed between the pages, he caught it as you set it down.

For every failure that he felt he cropped up in life, this certainly wasn't it; this was something made with love, with passion, with something that he had avidly searched for as he grew up.

When he tucked the flower into your hair, he listened to the ramble of your words as you scanned through the paragraphs - the proper ones-- and watched the light of the screen reflect across your eyes.

This is the feeling that Daisuke knew best; this burning, smoldering affection that rested inside his chest. This was as close as he'd get to feeling 'home' without returning to Earth, and he wouldn't have it any other way.