#that was such an easy line to identify!!

[xx-justsomeguy-xx]

big guy looming over the line 💪🏼❄️

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

pros of women's fastidious passion for clothes: lots of info on historical fashion

cons: all the info is on women's fashion

[thepandalion]

not to be annoying or anything but it's been 9 years since the release of indie game undertale

[freebooter4ever]

ok im listening to the doc and wow this dude really needs to move on from the 80s and get a life... BUT also the doc is trying to make it seem like all teens in the 80s 'identified' with these characters? is that true for you guys? i never did. but i also didnt identify with clue*less or even vero*nica mars which was pretty solidly my era. the doc is trying to claim that this hegemony of 'identification' is a good thing and that the multiple options of today is making it harder for teens to relate to each other as a group. but the doc is saying this from the pov of a rich white dude. i would argue that today's much broader representation - watching a korean american girl starring in her own teen girl rom com where she is shown to look past the racism of the 80s movies in order to enjoy sixteen c*andles.... I think that is a million times better than what came before. the definition of who could tell stories in the 80s was so much more narrow, it was absurd. and to all the boys was blatantly critiquing that. it was supposed to be sad that lara jean is forced to endure stereotypes just to get her movie romance fix. it's also notable in that movie that lara jean identified most with books, where you could kind of imagine a main character however you wanted even if technically you knew they didnt look like you.

tldr my question to my other 30 somethings would be if 'br*at pack' was ever a bad thing in your lifetime and if you actually identified with these kids in the movies who seemed to have no direction or care in life beyond their tiny little suburban world. cause that was certainly never me as a teen lol. fascinating to watch and fun to imagine living as but not relatable.

[sycopomp]

While twittr will never replace tumblr as my babygirl socmed site, it is rapidly closing the gap in degree of unhinged unselfawareness

I just witnessed a 🔞 account for a serial killer cannibal villain start going absolutely feral over how much they LOATHE the asshole 16 y/o anime deuteragonist.

I love you fandom lunacy, never change (you won't)

[sschmendrick]

This is about the characters, of course

Just gonna go sleep for tonight I like the idea of what's happening but the execution is giving me a migraine x) might just be me because i haven't watched bbh much before (the french were feeding us well) but he seems much more eratic than when we see him from etoiles. I understand that he's been getting more and more frustrated and it got to him but this is getting a bit much for me at 2AM. I can't take the wild accusations and the enabling that doesn't seem to go in the way the character was presented like before (though understandable if influenced by recent events) I might find it funny when I catch up tomorrow morning but it's becoming it little too much on the mind right now.

Also I wish we could go back to wondering what's up with the nether x) or even have the two storylines happen at the same time

[akselbenny]

two gay men do the twist

Here are the first 5,000 words  of a novel of 180,000  words about two young men,  Benny van der Heiden Hulst, Dutch-American and Aksel Haugen, American. Set in Paris, Amsterdam and Frankfurt in 1959-1960, Benny and Aksel struggle with their homosexuality and society’s attitudes at that time. It is a :love story of two men and the aftermath when one dies.

BENNY AND AKSELd

A LOVE STORY

————————————————-

JUNE 1959

SS UNITED STATES 

I met Benny van der Heiden-Hulst in the departure hall for the SS United States. I had my Cabin Class ticket and stood in a chaotic line for an hour for a cabin assignment;  Finally,I was second. 

Suddenly, I, and everyone else heard some yelling and like everyone else I looked for the person yelling. He was easy to identify because he was waving his arms as he yelled. He looked to be in his mid-20s as I was at the time. He waved his arms and kept yelling as he ran in our direction, ”Bruner, bruder, brother” and other words I didn’t understand. I learned later all the words yelled were brother in different languages, French, Spanish and who knows what else. 

He kept running in our direction, waving his arms and yelling brother, bruder.  Suddenly he was directly in front of me. He threw his arms around me, kissed me on my cheek with a loud smack and whispered in my ear, ” Ich  bin Benny .” Then he exclaimed loud enough for everyone around us to hear him, “oh, mein bruder,” several times.

I could have done things differently, pushed him away, turned away, told him he made a mistake, but I returned the embrace, kissed him on his cheek and whispered in his ear, “I am Aksel. “

“I am so happy to find you my dear Alex, my brother,” and he whispered, “I thought you were German.”

“Aksel,” I whispered back.

Close behind Benny was a man in a uniform with a clipboard,  who said with a bit of a smirk on his face, “You are no longer interested in First Class Benny? So this is the man you say is your brother?”

“Half-brother. Don’t we look alike? Now, I want to be in cabin class with my brother, Aksel. Aksel, this  is the Purser.  He runs the ship, a good person to know. We know each other from previous crossings, don’t we?”

“Yes, Benny, I think this is the fourth. The first was with your grandfather,  Hendrick Janson who insisted  I call him Hendrick.”

“We want a cabin for two. We have a lot to talk about.” Benny said to the Purser.

“Well, you two do look alike, I think, and in honor of your grandfather I will arrange it”  the Purser said.

I kept quiet. I didn’t know who this man named Benny was or what he was up to,  but I was certain it was going to be an interesting adventure I would always remember. And I have.

It was true, we did look alike: same height, almost five feet, eight inches, Benny always said he was taller, same slightly muscular body, same age, I thought, and, as we discovered, same weight. Benny had brown eyes, I had blue.  But his eyes had a wild, almost flirty look, always looking around for someone to charm.

Generally, I tried to keep my face expressionless. We both had unruly blandish hair. His hair had a curl and a darker uneven blond with some of the curls hanging down on his forehead; my hair was straight, but still unruly and darker blonde.

I was dressed conservatively, button down shirt, sweater and chinos. I carried my blazer. Benny wore basically the same, except he added an oversized shirt, extra large, with sleeves rolled up a couple times. As I learned later, he favored bright colors, pink, red, green, but all bright and intense. He also liked big linen gingham shirts in bright colors. Any bit of wind made the extra large shirts blossom out. He couldn’t be missed if he was walking by.

There was a difference in our bodies. My body was evenly developed. Ever since my time in the army, I had kept an exercise regimen, jumping jacks, push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, squats, and some running. I certainly wasn’t bulgin with muscles, but my chest, abdomen and shoulders were evenly defined.

On the other hand, Benny’s body lacked upper torso development, but his legs and buttocks, as I was to discover, were well developed.

We smiled at each other as if we shared secrets, which we did. 

The man in the uniform was the Puser and he said, “Thank you Benny for giving up a chance at a first class cabin, that was generous of you. We have someone else waiting for a first class cabin. Cabin stewards were standing nearby waiting for instructions.The Purser added, “The two of you are in a three bed cabin.  There is a third man assigned to the cabin, but he will be moved to another, larger cabin so it will be only you two. Go to your cabin now.  The steward will help you.” Benny  shook hands with the Purser and, as I leaned later, passed him a big tip.

They were both so experienced at giving and receiving tips that I saw nothing pass between them.

We went to our cabin with the steward and our luggage. Benny talked all the way. He smiled at me and assured me everything would be wonderful, his very words. He also talked to the steward, got his name, (Rafael), where he was from (Puerto Rico ), if he liked his job (he did) and more. When we got to our cabin, the steward shook hands, turned and left, either to escape from Benny or because he knew the fracas that was coming. I am certain Benny passed him a tip with the handshake.

Standing in the middle of the cabin was a heavy, rather threatening looking man with dark oily hair and eyes that were half closed and much too close. At least I thought he was threatening, but that didn’t stop Benny.

“Well hello there,” Benny said in a cheerful voice.  “I am Benny and this is my brother Aksel.”

The man did not respond right away but gave us a cursory look. He kept on unpacking, throwing clothes on the single bed.

Finally, he stopped and looked first at me and then at Benny.

“I am taking the single bed, you two can take the bunk beds.  My name is Anton Drechsel.  By the way, I want you two out of here every afternoon between three and six.  I will have some young ladies in the room every day at that time.” He had a heavy German accent.

“Well, Mister Dreck,” Benny said, but stopped as Anton Drechsel took a step toward him.

Drechsel looked us over and said, “you two look like queers, not brothers.”

I moved between Benny and Drechsel and said, “Benny be quiet,  Mr. Dreck, I don’t think there will be any women of any age in this room unless we invite them and thank you for the assessment about us. What a thing to say on a first meeting. Perhaps you’re right. What we think of you will remain unspoken, Mr. Dreck.”

Dreck backed up a bit and I took a step closer to him.

“Stop calling me that.  I am Drechsel.”

At that moment, the Steward came back and said, “Who is Dreck,” and looked at the card in his hand and added “Anton Drechsel.”

No one answered.

“I guess I have the wrong room,” he said as he turned to leave.

“You fool. I am Anton Drechsel. What do you want?”

“Mr. Drechsel you are being moved to a larger room with two bunk beds.”

“I am not moving. They can move.” He motioned in our direction.

Benny laughed and said, “ Well my brother, it looks like we will have this room to ourselves.”

I wasn't sure what was happening, but Benny put his arm around my shoulder and laughed.

There was another tap on the door and the Purser arrived.

“Mr. Drechsel I hope you have been told the good news.  You will be moving to a larger cabin and Mr. Haugen and Mr van der Heiden Hulst will stay here.

“I am staying here.

“No, you are not.  You are moving.”

“No, I am not.”

“Mr. Drechsel l do not have time for this. We are about to depart. You are moving right now. Steward, put Mr Drechsel's luggage in the hallway when it’s ready and if you need help get two more stewards or guards to assist you. “

“Mr Drechsel pack your belongings now or you will be removed from the ship. You have ten minutes.”

Drechsel began picking up clothes and throwing them at his suitcases on the floor. He was soon grumbling out of the room. He slammed the door as he left.

After he left, Benny hugged me and bent down and kissed my hand which gave me a shock.

“Benny, why did you call him Dreck?”

He laughed and said, “It means dirt in German. He is actually Austrian. I could tell from his accent. l didn’t like him.”

“Didn’t he scare you?”

“Sort of, but he was just a braggart.  I hoped he wouldn’t do anything. Why did you stand between Drechsel and me?”

“I guess I didn’t want you to do anything or get hurt.  I had to protect my half brother.”

Benny stopped and looked at me and smiled. “Thank you, Aksel. You are my brother. So Aksel, what bed do you want?”

“You decide. You did all this.”

“Yes I guess I did. The big tip to the Purser helped. Money does wonders. Besides, I know him from the previous crossings. He admires my grandfather.”

“Okay, you take the single bed Aksel and I’ll take the lower bunk and we’ll use the upper for storage.” We did some unpacking. I thought I felt the ship move a bit. I looked at Benny and he nodded his head.

“Let’s go Aksel, the ship is moving. We have a lot to talk about when we are back in the cabin. I love that we will be together for the crossing.”

We got on deck fast because Benny knew the  way.

On shore people were waving and shouting and Benny started doing the same, as did I.  Abruptly, then slowly, majestically, the ship  started sliding away from the dock.

The noises got louder, especially from Benny who was laughing, shouting, pointing at people on shore and waving. There were loud horns blaring from the ships, bells ringing, it was a beautiful scene. “I love this,” Benny  said. “ Life goes on for all those people we left and now for us, for us. Life goes on, you better grab it Aksel.”

“Do you know someone down there?”

“No, I said my goodbyes in Boston. I just act like I know someone.”

He put his arm around my waist. I waved my left arm and Benny waved with his right arm as if we were one person. He laughed and yelled the entire time. 

Suddenly he stopped and said, “Now we have to go to the dinings room and get our table assignment for breakfast, lunch and dinner and for the rest of the crossing. I like to eat early with the first serving.  Is that okay with you?” One of the few mistakes he made in English was that he always said “dinings” room. I never corrected him. I liked it.

“Benny, I’ll agree to anything you say. You have been a wonder for me already. I am lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck, Aksel. I chose you. I had to choose you after waiting for two hours hoping someone like you would show up. And you did and here we are. You are more than I hoped for. You are a dream that came true.”

“I was trying to get the Purser to move me to first  class and then I saw you and I knew you would be better than any first class.“

“I gave the Purser a tip, then put on the brother act . I was afraid you wouldn’t respond correctly, but you kissed me on the cheek and said your name. But what is your family name?”

“I am Aksel Haugen but didn’t you call me brother in German, bruder,” I said as we entered the dining room. “I took one year of German in college.’

“Yes, I thought you were German. I am glad you are American since I am American and Dutch.”

We wandered around the dining room. Benny stopped at a table.

“We’ll take this one. I’ve sat at it before with my cousin, Jan , on another crossing. Only six people and near an entrance and more important, an exit. We can leave when we want.”  

“How many times have you crossed?”

“This is my eighth or so on this line and my last. I am not going to get a full college degree. I finished junior college in Boston and that’s enough for me. I am fluent in Nederlands, English and French, some German, Portuguese and a little Spanish. That’s enough. My grandfather, Hendrick, wanted me to learn languages for the family business.”

I learned later Benny had over twenty crossings.

He told a steward what table we wanted then asked who worked the table. He also got the steward’s  name, Carlos.

“I do sir.”

“That’s great, Carlos . Call me Benny, this is my brother, Aksel. I was hoping you would be at this table. I know we will get good service.” Benny shook hands with the steward and pressed  some bills in his hand. I didn’t see the bills, but I am certain they were there.

The steward glanced down at his hand and said,  “You will get great service Sir.”

“Who else will be at the table? I want them to get good service too?” The steward said it was a mother and two daughters.

Later, I tried to pay Benny but he said it didn’t matter. It would all work out. He told me it is better to tip everyone at the beginning of a crossing and to tip big.

On the way out Benny grabbed a couple bananas and  four apples and stuck them in the leather messenger bag he had strapped over his shoulder.

“It’s my big purse, very handy.” He was right.  I got one in Paris. I still have it after all these years and I still use it.

We had to go back to the deck for the muster lifeboat drill. We were assigned a lifeboat. We put on life jackets and listened carefully to the instructions.  Benny was serious about the drill and he checked my jacket and watched me as I checked his. It took about half an hour.

When we were finished, Benny said, “Aksel, look at that boy over there, the one with the reddish hair. He doesn’t seem to belong to any lifeboat and he keeps looking around. Look, he seems as if he is trying to hide.”

I saw the boy but didn’t think anything about it.

After, we went back to the cabin and did more unpacking and arranging.  Benny was talking nonstop. It was a mixture of the things he loved, his favorite opera, Tosc, favorite broadway musical, Call Me Madam, the world's best cheese comes from the Netherlands, the best oysters come from France.

I mentioned I had never had an oyster. He told me we would have oysters from Carcassonne, the best oysters in the world. Always order fin de Claire, number 2. Always. Number 1 is too big and sometimes mushy. Number three is barely a bite and not much liquid. Find Claire number 2 are perfect.

Finally he stopped. Benny looked at my T-shirt and jockey underwear.

“Aksel, I’ve never worn jockey underwear even though I lived in the States.  Could I wear your pair tonight? I think you have jockeys on. Sometimes I could see the outline.  Your pants are tight enough for me to notice, besides I was looking. I wear boxer underwear. Why don’t you wear my  shorts? Maybe we’ll both like different underwear. I bet you look great in jockeys. Maybe I will too. My cousin Jan says I have a good Dutch ass. You can tell me what you think when we are changing clothes. Now I made you blush.”

I could feel a blush go through my whole body. I had hoped Benny didn’t notice.

Benny said, “I saw you had a lot of cash in that billfold in your suitcase.  We will have to give it to the Purser for safekeeping. I don’t trust Dreck. And you can change the money into travers checks when we get to Paris.”

“I didn’t know I was going to Paris, I thought I was going to Germany, Bonn actually”

“You are going to Paris, aren’t you? Most of the people on the ship take the train to Paris unless someone meets them. I thought you would be going. We will go together. Besides, you have to go to Paris to get to Bonn. Everything goes through Paris. We can spend a few days in Paris before you go to Bonn and I have to go to Amsterdam, or better yet, you can come to Amsterdam with me.”

I nodded and kept arranging.

“Aksel, do you have a swimsuit?”,,

I held up a  blue patterned  boxer style swimsuit.

“Aksel, you can’t wear that at the Piscine Deligny.  People would laugh. Here, put on this pair of Speedos. I have an extra pair. You can have them. I want to see how you look in them.”

“So we are going there too. What is it?”

“A swimming pool in the Seine but not the Seine water.  Water from theSeine is bad. This is a swimming pool set into the Seine. Only the French would do something like that.”

I hesitated and said, “You mean I should change right now? Are they clean?”

“Of course, don’t be so shy. Besides, I like to see you blush. You just blushed but I didn’t mention it.”

I did as he said and looked directly at him which steadied my nervousness.

“Aksel, blue is definitely your color. I’m going to wear red. Speedos show what you’ve got. I like that. Oh now you’re blushing again.”

He was right and I looked down at the floor.

“Aksel, that’s one of the things I already like about you . You are so innocent and that makes you shy.  I saw how brave you are when you wanted to protect me. How old are you? Eighteen, sixteen? I am nineteen and soon twenty in August. You look sixteen or seventeen, but you must be at least eighteen to be traveling alone for the first time, crossing the Atlantic.”

“Benny, I am 26 in September and I am shy and quiet. I shouldn’t be at my age, but I am.  Sometimes I wish I could be like you are. You are a new experience and I am embarrassed by the difference.”

“Tell me more about yourself, Aksel.”

“I’ll make it short. I taught high school for two years, was drafted and served in the United States Army for two years. In teaching and the army I had to act as reserved as possible. I'm now on the way to Europe with my friend, my brother, Benny van der Heiden-Hulst. “

“Oh, yes, I forgot, I am going to Germany to write some stories for the Chicago Daily News. For that reason I have to travel to Bonn and Munich to fulfill the terms of my contract. That’s why I lug around my Swiss Hermes portable typewriter. I may be innocent and inexperienced in many ways, but I kno I am lucky to have met Benny.”

We still had our bathing suits on but suddenly and surprisingly, Benny turned and hugged me and laughed .

“That was great, Aksel. It explains  so much. I'll tell you about myself after dinner. Now we have to dance.”  

We still had our Speedos on.

“We will be dancing in our Speedos at the Piscine Deligny and doing a new dance.”

I looked at Benny and smiled.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I am happy. I am here with Benny, my new half brother, and I am going to learn a new dance. I love to waltz, I even took lessons, but I don’t think this will be a waltz. What is it?”

“First, we’ll keep our Speedos on when we dance. I know I’ll like to see you dance in your speedos.” 

“Benny let me know how much the Speedos cost, I’ll pay you for them.”

“They are a gift. Now we dance.”

I looked at Benny and waited.

“We’ll do The Twist. I have a small portable phonograph and I have the record, Hank Ballard and the Moonlighters singing The Twist. I’ll start dancing and you can join in if you want.  This is a no touch dance.” Benny dug the portable record player and the record out of one of his suitcases. He had two large suitcases, one the  size of my single suitcase..

He put on a record and started dancing to the music and the lyrics. Benny knew the lyrics by heart and inserted some of his words.

Come on baby let's do the twist 

Come on baby let's do the twist 

Take me by my little hand and go like this 

Ee-oh twist baby baby twist  

Oooh-yeah just like this 

Come on little miss and do the twist 

My daddy is sleepin' and mama ain't around 

Yeah daddy is sleepin' and mama 

. . And more like this. . .p

Benny danced to the music and I watched as he  put one foot slightly forward and held his hands away from his body and started rotating his hips back and forth and side to side then dipping his body without moving his feet, then changed the position of his feet and put the opposite foot forward and kept moving his hips. Lots of motion and fast.

He sang in a loud voice, “c’mon Aksel, c’mon baby, let’s do the twist, no touching, just dance.” 

I joined in and we finished dancing to the record. We did the twist two more times adding a dip now and then. It was electrifying for me.

Benny said, “we’ll drive them crazy Aksel. Did you like it?”

“It drove me crazy.”

“Good, now we get dressed for dinner. We will wear a suit tonight, our first night at sea. I saw your dark blue suit. Please wear that. It would make me happy. I want to wear your jockey shorts and you can wear my boxer shorts. We will exchange the ones we are wearing . It will make us feel closer. It will be our secret. Now you blush. We don’t have to do it.”

“No, I want to.”

We exchanged underwear and dressed. Benny wore a dark gray suit, a while shirt and a bright red tie. I wore my dark blue suit, a light blue shirt and a pink tie. Benny reached over and straightened  my tie and brushed something off my shoulder. Then he looked me over.

“Oh Aksel, so daring. You look so full of Scandinavia. Your tie matches your blush.” He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. I pulled back abruptly and immediately regretted it. So I leaned forward and kissed Benny firmly on the lips. We straightened ourselves and left the cabin.

All I could think about as we walked to dinner was Benny’s shorts on me and especially my jockey shorts on Benny. Wave after wave of blushing swept over me.

We could feel the rocking, dipping motion of the boat so we adjusted our gait.

Benny stopped. “I know what you’re thinking about, our underwear.  You are so sweet when you blush. Do you like wearing my underwear? I love wearing yours.”

“Benny, l love the feeling but I can’t help that I am blushing and I am getting stiff.”

The Purser was at the door to the dining room and said to us, “You two look happy, but there might be some excitement tonight. I believe we have a stowaway on board.”

Benny said to the Purser, “I think I saw him at the muster drill. He is shorter than I am and has red hair. He looked like he was trying not to be noticed.”

“Thank you Benny, your description will help. We found a backpack stuffed into one of the lifeboats when we were inspecting the ship after departure. You are observant even when you are with your brother.”

Benny just smiled and I blushed.

I was too excited to think about the meal. I kept thinking about my jockey shorts around Benny's body.  I could feel the looseness of Benny’s boxer shorts.  I was full and stiff and I wondered how I would be able to walk out of the dining room without creating a spectacle of myself.  I tried to listen to Benny as he talked to the people at the table: two young girls, Margaret and Lois, in their teens. The girls giggled when Benny spoke to them and their mother, Elizabeth, who remained mostly quiet and studied us.

We told our names , where we were going, where we were from.

Benny said, “I have heard we have a stowaway on board, but don’t worry it won’t be a problem. I think I saw a suspicious young man this afternoon during the lifeboat muster. He kept looking around and was very jumpy. Remember Aksel?” 

I nodded toward the opposite entrance and said ”That’s the young man. I think he is looking for someone or a table to sit at.” 

The boy stood in the doorway and looked around. He saw our table. There was an empty seat.

Benny and I were seated on either side of an empty chair at the table. Lois was next to me, then Elizabeth, Margaret and Benny. 

I told everyone to be calm because if he sat at our table, he would be between Benny and me. 

I said, “Besides, he is only interested in a free trip to Europe.  He's  not on the ship to create a scene or hurt anybody.  It will be an adventure if he does sit with us.  Benny and I are here to protect you.”

One of the girls said, “Mom, I want to go back to our cabin.”

I said, “sit down now, and be quiet right now. I think we might have a visitor. He really is headed in our direction. The worst thing anyone could do is jump up, run and make a scene”

“Now try to act natural. Benny talk.”  

I put my right hand on Lois’s shoulders and Elizabeth  put her left arm on Lois’s shoulder and put her right hand on Margaret’s shoulder.

I smiled at Benny and nodded to Elizabeth and Margaret.

“Everything will be fine. We are a happy family, a mother and her four children. Benny, tell a joke soon or ask a riddle .”

“What is black and white and read all over?”

Before anyone could answer, the young man suddenly walked over and sat down at our table between Benny and me. 

He said,  “Can I sit with you here? I’m Irish and the people at my table are snooty English. I don’t like where I’m sitting.”  At least I think that is what he said. He had a strong Irish brogue.

I looked at Benny as I put my left hand on the back of the young man’s chair.  Benny did the same with his right hand.

I said to the girls, “do you know the answer to Benny’s riddle? Let’s think about it. Make a guess.”

Benny asked the boy, “Where’s your table? You’ll have to talk to the steward or the Purser if you want to change tables.” 

The waiter placed plates of food in front of each of us, including the stowaway. It looked like the apprtizers.

The young man waved his arm indicating off to his  right. He started talking to the girls who giggled nervously. The young man kept shoveling food into his mouth and looking longingly at our plates.

I said, “Would you like my plate, I’m really not hungry.”

He took my plate and finished it off. It was only an appetizer. Benny gave him his plate.

I said to the girls, “I bet you both thought of the answer. I don’t think it’s a real joke. Let’s ask Benny. See he has someone new to talk to so he ignores us.”

Benny kept talking to the young man who was eating as fast as he could and eyeing the girls’ plates.  

I said, “My sisters are very shy. This is their first time on a ship.  They still call it a boat. I should have told them the riddle about the difference between a ship and a boat.”

Benny said, “Now remember girls how to pronounce our cousin’s name just yawn and you’ll think of it. Even though his name is spelled with a j a n. you pronounce it yan or jawn.”

I turned to the mother, “I am impressed with my sisters. They don’t just jump up and leave, but wait until we are all finished.”

The mother nodded in agreement and put her hand tighter on Margaret's shoulder.  I put my arm affectionately, but firmly around Lois's shoulder.

I said, “it’s great to be together as a family. Isn’t it Lois?”

She said, “I know the answer to the riddle. It’s a newspaper. Am I right?“

I said, “that was a great answer, Lois.”

She said it in a shaky voice but it seemed to calm her.

The Irish boy talked and ate slower and seemed to relax. He was hard to understand because he had a strong Irish brogue and his mouth was full of food. Benny kept looking at him and then at the girls but keeping the conversation going. 

We saw the Purser enter by the door near us and then turn abruptly and opened the door revealing two hefty men in dark suits.

The boy saw the Purser and the two men. Suddenly, the Irish boy jumped up and ran for the door across the dining room. Benny stuck out his foot to try to trip him. I reached over and tried to push him down. One of the girls screamed.  Other passengers stood up and there were screams at other tables.

The Purser  and two stocky men grabbed the boy and

[wallbeatjournal]

i feel like if i could understand what nadine twin peaks getting age regression amnesia and super-strength and going back to high school for most of a season meant to twin peaks i could for sure maybe probably almost 100% figure out what 50sdale means to riverdale. perhaps

[leavesandbounds]

I'm gonna be so real

For as harmless and "sure i guess" as the big gimmick blogs on this site are

I cannot find even a shred of myself that enjoys scrolling past the hellsitegenetics reblogs

[oozmium]

so demifiend is def voiced by matt mercer and aleph is voiced by bryce papenbrook in the diamond realm dlc but i can't figure out who voices the hero (it sounds familiar but urgh)

[inbabylontheywept]

Alright. So. I have a confession to share with you. In middle school, I strongly identified as a libertarian. In my defense, I was 13 and I had autism. Against my defense, I was literate, and capable of using common sense. I confessed this to you willingly, so go easy on me.

One thing about this that I can share with you is that I, as a 13 year old boy, read Atlas Shrugged. I read it as someone very committed to the ideology, who wanted to believe it, who wanted to like it, and there are two things I can share with you about that book from that time period.

The writing is terrible. It has the slowest, most boring, most pretentious prose you could possibly imagine. Calling it glacial would be a compliment. It makes glaciers look like Formula 1. There is no description for the pacing outside of hellish torments. It is like being condemned to watch a dog with an itchy ass wear the Himmalayas away only by scooching. It is like counting the grains of sand on a beach while Alexa reads off random phone numbers. It is like dipping saltines into lukewarm tapwater while listening to white noise in a beige room with no doors. It is like wearing a blindfold and being told to guess what a man is painting by sound alone, but there is no man, there is only a dog licking cold vaseline off a window. Forever. It is all of those things and more.

There is a multipage rant about how affairs are Good and Rational that is so insanely desparate that even middle-school-autist me thought she must have been having an affair while she wrote this. And then I googled it, and the answer was yes, she was. She called her philosophy Objectivism, because she believed, like everyone else in the world, that her ideas and motivations were Pure and Rational and Ojectively Correct, but I still find the name accurate, because it was really written with one Objective in mind, and that was finding a way to never admit that Ayn Rand had ever made a mistake in her life.

I was going to rant more about this but I kind of lost my train of thought. The book fucking sucks. It was propaganda of such remarkably low caliber that it actually helped me move out of those circles. Every time someone talked about liking the book, I'd reply with something along the lines of "Yeah, I especially loved the part where she destroyed the post modernists by unequivocally condemning affairs", and if they agreed with me, they would have lost my respect forever, and if they looked very embarrassed, I could at least acknowledge that they had a soul, albeit small and malformed. I had dozens of people claim that they read the book, and only three or four actually passed the test.

And now, goodnight.

[hoshiina]

pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: in which he realizes you were the one for him

warnings: none i think !

wc: 1100

Hoshina wasn't a player. He wasn't one to say yes to everyone who came his way nor was he one to lightly pursue just about anyone who slightly interested him— not to mention he didn’t fall easily to begin with. He was a busy man in a dangerous line of work so having a relationship simply didn’t make sense most of the time.

However, this is not to say he hasn’t had a few relationships here and there. He loved those he dated, he really did. He did not believe in dating for the fun of it nor did he believe in starting a relationship he knew would end at some point, but subconsciously he tried not to get attached. He kept his distance and locked away his heart to keep from getting hurt. Was it unfair? Well yes, but he was scared. Everyone has something that terrifies them greatly, this just so happened to be Hoshina’s.

Yet, recently he could tell that something was different with you. It had only been a few months since you started dating, but he feared the shift in his feelings. He knew what it was— he knew very well, but as soon as he admitted it, it would be over. There’d be no going back for him. He knew he was being rather irrational, he knew that if he sat down and confronted these emotions he’d realize they weren’t that big of a deal, but he couldn’t. He’s never been able to.

However, while fighting this kaiju, it became plain obvious that he was simply in denial. 

It upset him how important you were to him, but more than that it upset him that he knew he was important to you. You had made it so painfully clear that he meant the absolute world to you and that broke him to pieces every single time.

To him it was easy being alone— he just had to make sure his job was complete before he died. If he could ensure everyone’s safety or at least help Mina out, there was nothing more he wished for. Yet while fighting Kaiju no. 10 today, when he saw his life flash before his eyes, his immediate thought was of you. If he died you’d cry. And that alone was going to get him home alive.

He’d rather die than make you cry. Especially not alone.

As he stood up again, he could see his blood dripping from his wounds and immediately it made him chuckle. You’d cry anyways when you see the state he’s in. 

I’ll have to be around to wipe your tears at least, he said to you in his head.

He was incredibly lucky that you didn’t work on the battlefield, his heart simply would not be able to take it. But he did, and for you he’d have to get home safe. Even if no one else cared that much, not even himself, he knew you would.

All of a sudden, it was easy to admit. He was hopelessly in love with you, in a way he didn't know he was capable of. He wished that he would spend the rest of his life with you and he hoped you would spend the rest of yours with him. Perhaps he was just afraid and a little flustered to admit that he was important to someone, especially someone special to him too. He had seen how painful it was for those left behind, a little too often. 

But there was an easy solution to that, he’d just get back to you safe every time. He just won’t make you worry and he’ll be there for you. This was supposed to be a dilemma, something he thought he'd stress over, but in the moment he felt eerily relaxed, definitely not like he was fighting an identified grade kaiju. The rest of the fight was a blur, he couldn't remember much. His head was clear but the fatigue had taken over at that point, but before he knew it, the kaiju laid in front of him still.

He was faintly conscious as they rushed him into an ambulance and patched him up. Once he was properly treated and awake, they had warned him to stay put and take it easy, but all he wanted to do was see you.

As soon as he left his assigned room, he immediately bumped into you. You had been waiting to be let in to see him. You took one look at the way he was patched up and tears welled into your eyes. He could tell you didn't mean to, you didn't want to worry him.

“Please don't cry,” he said softly, wiping your tears away. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of you. “I'm perfectly fine.”

“I'm not crying,” you said with a scowl on your face, but the way your voice cracked was not very convincing. “I'm so glad you're back.”

“Can't live without me?” he teased. He knew you couldn't live without him, but he couldn't either. Yet, now he even hated the thought of you living without him, let alone with someone else, so here he was. And here he always will be.

“Shut up,” you said. “You know I can't.”

He knew, but hearing you say that still made his heart flutter. He reached out with his right hand to grab your left and held it carefully. He leaned in to kiss you, but it was so much sloppier than the careful ones he usually gave you. Forgive him, he was terribly exhausted.

“I can't either,” he said, snuggling his face into your shoulder.

“You can't?” you asked, a little surprised. It broke his heart that he had possibly made you feel such way.

“Not for a second,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. “I'd rather die than wake up without you next to me, actually.”

You wouldn’t reply, so he brought his head back up to look at you.

“Oh, don't cry,” he said and chuckled a little, wiping your tears away as he kissed you again. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

He hadn't let go of your hand and although he was gentle, he held it firmly. He didn't say anything, but he vowed to himself that he'd put a ring on it someday. He wasn't letting go of you ever.

You were the one for him.

[vroomvroomwee]

Crowley is Lucifer

(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)

- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.

- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.

- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway

- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show

- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant

Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here

- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles

- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line

- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank

- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"

- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"

Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"

And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind

- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"

- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky

- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)

- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.

- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel

- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental

- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs

- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago

- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away

- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.

(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)

Edit:

- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK

- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)

- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.

Edit 2:

- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.

- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"

- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)

Edit 3:

- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."

- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, Rafe being Rafe.

A/N: English isn’t my first language and I did my best to edit it all - so if something escaped me, please, let me know. Feedback is more than welcome .ᐟ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter two: shopping for disaster ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Rafe Cameron sat in his car outside Topper's house, the black SUV gleaming under the midday sun. He glanced at his watch for the third time in less than ten minutes, annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. Rafe had dismissed all his meetings in the afternoon and a few in the morning to make sure he'd be there in time so she wouldn't have an excuse to back away from it. He hadn't expected her to take her sweet time, but he should have known better.

Rafe should've known you weren't be civil even if you accepted it. Which, to be honest, still surprised him. He was ready to have the door slammed on his face but it seems not even you could say no to some easy money.

His phone buzzed with a text and for a moment, he thought it was saying you'd be down in five, but it was just Topper reminding him about their gym session tomorrow morning, having no idea what his best friend and sister were plotting behind his back. He sighed, shifting in his seat, the leather creaking under his movements in a way that had his annoyance growing. Why was it taking so long for you to get ready? You weren’t going for some fashion show, just to buy stuff downtown.

"Fucking bitch" Rafe muttered under his breath, hitting the horn a couple of times. He was already regretting all of this. The longer he sat there, the more the idea of bringing you as his fake girlfriend felt like a terrible decision. You'd probably jump at every chance to mess with him like you were doing now.

Just as he was about to give up and head home to, hopefully, contact a few clients, he spotted a car pulling up. He hadn't seen this one around before and by the low price, it surely wasn't your family’s. From the rearview mirror, he saw the loser push his aviators up, leaning in to kiss the girl. Rafe's stomach twisted as Topper's sister slid out, your hair tousled and a satisfied smile playing on your lips. Gross.

The sight of her closing the passenger door sent a jolt of irritation through him, mixed with something he couldn't quite identify. You looked carefree, laughing at something the guy said, and for a moment, Rafe felt like an intruder on a private scene he had no right to witness.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, slamming closed the door of his truck. Were you hooking up while he was waiting in the sun?

You turned around towards the voice, your smile fading when you caught sight of him. His jaw clenched and his gaze sharp.

"Rafe?" you asked, surprise etching your features as you adjusted the strap of your bag, the casual air of confidence slipping slightly. You hadn't noticed his car when the touron parked. "You're early."

If Topper heard about this, you'd be dammed. You had told him you'd be sleeping over a friend.

"Or you're late.” he replied, crossing his arms, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "What was that all about?"

Your brows furrowed, the glint in your eyes replaced by defensiveness. "I had... plans. Not that it's any of your business."

"Plans? Is that what you call it?" Rafe shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface as he ran a hand through his buzzcut. "You said we'd leave at noon. Did you really think it was okay to keep me waiting while you were off with some random douchebag? I fucking canceled my meetings to be here on time because you wanted to go shopping for shit!''

"As if you care, idiot." you snapped, the challenge in your voice clear. "I'm doing you a favor, remember? You have no right to question me about my plans and he wasn't a douchebag."

"Because I thought you'd have some decency!" he countered, irritation lacing his tone as he struggled to keep his voice down, walking closer to you. He points towards the car was minutes ago. "That asshole didn't even open the door for you when he dropped you off."

"Well, it was better than sit around and wait for you!" you shot back, an eyebrow raised defiantly as you wrapped your hair in a messy bun, feeling too hot from all this arguing in the sun. "It's not like you're the perfect image of being on time."

He shook his head, trying to tamp down the rising anger and something deeper that he always refused to acknowledge. "Let's just go, alright?" he muttered, opening the passenger door for you with an exaggerated sight.

You arched a brow, starring at him while he stood there with the door held open, for you. Whatever. You shook your head, clenching your jaw as you moved to the passenger seat, only to realize a second too late that you needed to change into something… well, better. The door was already slammed closed and Rafe was already on his seat.

Rafe started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The radio was off and you had your arms crossed over your chest, looking to the window with an almost unnotiaciable pount on your lips. He didn't even give you time to shower and change. How could you go shopping in a t-shirt and jean shorts? Rude. Brute.

"Do you even have a plan for this?" you asked after a few minutes in silence, watching the front of the boutiques.

"Yeah, I figured we'd just wing it" he replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Did Topper know you were hanging around with broken tourons now? If not, he'd make sure to tell him later.

"Wing it? You're kidding, right?" you laughed, but the sound had a sharp edge. A superiority that crawled under his skin. "People love to gossip at these events. If we just act like we're a couple, someone will definitely ask questions."

"Fine." he snapped, annoyance dripping in his voice as he parked the car in front of one of the many expensive stores of the island. "What do you suggest then, Mrs. Director of Fake Dates."

He hopped off the car and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. You muttered a thank you as he opened the door for you, stopping in the sidewalk.

"Where did you say the wedding was again?" you furrowed your brows, not really remembering this piece of information. "Well, anyway. We need a backstory. Something believable. How about we say we've known each other since we were kids? You're my brother best friend. We had a falling out last summer and decided to give it another shot. Cliché. People eat that shit."

"Italy" He shrugged, following you as you decided which store would be first. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him with arched brows.

"Did you just say Italy as if in Europe?" you blinked, taking a deep breath as you nodded at yourself.

“How many fucking Italies do you know?” He snorted as his head turned to look at you, dumbfounded. You forced a smile, showing him the middle finger.

"Don't worry. It's just for one weekend, I told you." He held open the door of the boutique you stopped in front of, pushing you inside by the shoulder. "Let's keep the details of the story short, alright? The less people know, the better.”

“All right, Mr. Boring. Time to find me a dress that won’t embarrass you.”

Rafe followed you inside, mentally preparing himself for the impending chaos. The store was bright and stylish, filled with an array of dresses and heels. You immediately dove into the racks, pulling out pieces in vibrant colors and flowing fabrics, not sparring him a second glance.

Fuck, he could already feel his pockets hurting.

“Help me out here,” you called over your shoulder, an armful of dresses piled high. “You’ve got baby arms but let’s see if they can handle this.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he picked up a few dresses. “I don’t have baby arms,” he retorted, but the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. Baby arms, really?

“Are you serious right now?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I should get you my workout plan instead of a dress.”

He shot you a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile before he caught himself. “Just get what you need, and I’ll carry it, but don’t expect me to play your little games.”

You grinned, the mischievous light in your eyes making his heart race. Because you were infuriating. “Oh, but you’re going to play. It’s part of the deal.”

You’d already been through several rounds of dresses - each one met with a casual nod or a half-hearted comment from Rafe as he scrolled on his phone. A sleek black gown had caught his eye for a moment, and the deep red one had nearly made him lose his cool, but he managed to keep his reactions under control. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affected. You already were infuriating enough without him feeding your ego.

But then you stepped out in a blue dress. It wasn’t just any blue dress—it clung to you figure like it was made for you, the fabric flowing and shimmering as you walked. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating you curves in a way that made his breath hitch. The neckline dipped just enough to draw the eye, and the slit running from the edge of the dress to the top of you thigh was nothing short of provocative. Rafe felt his heart race, an unfamiliar heat burning in his veins.

He caught himself staring, quickly snapping his gaze back up to your face. Get it together, Cameron. She was annoying, infuriating, and the last person he should be looking at like that. Yet here he was, shifting in his seat, a strange heat building in his chest as you spun around and gave him a look that practically dared him to say something.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft, as if you already knew the effect the dress was having on him.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to summon one of his usual sarcastic remarks. “It’s… fine,” he managed, though his voice didn’t carry its usual edge.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with amusement as you starred at him through the mirror. “Fine? Just fine?” You pouted and turned around. You stepped closer, and he could feel the air between you grow thicker. “You’re not even looking.”

“I’m looking,” he muttered, his eyes betraying him again by glancing down at your legs before he moved it to his phone. He hated how easy it was for you to get under his skin. Every part of him was screaming to look away, to say something snarky and put you in her place, but for once, he couldn’t find the words. You looked too good. He hated it.

“No witty comeback? Wow, I’m impressed,” you teased, taking another step forward, the fabric of the dress shifting with your movement in a way that only drew his attention more.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to remember why you annoyed him so much. You’re frustrating. You’re a pain. He forced himself to think of every little thing you’d ever done to irritate him, but the sight of you in that dress made it nearly impossible.

“At least you’re as hot as you are annoying,” he finally muttered under his breath, shaking his head in a vain attempt to hide the fact that his pulse was racing.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted with his response. A surprise chuckle escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rafe huffed, trying to regain some composure. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

“Too much for your business crowd?” you asked, spinning around in front of the mirror, your tone laced with amusement.

“Nah, you’ll fit right in,” he said, though his mind was screaming the opposite. Too much. Way too much. Too much for his own sake.

As you turned back to the mirror, adjusting the slit in the dress, Rafe allowed himself one more glance, feeling a mix of frustration and something else bubble up inside him. He preferred you when you were just annoying.

“I’m not carrying you out when those heels become too much,” he tossed out, trying to steer the conversation back into a safer territory.

You laughed, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself. But it’s nice to know you’re concerned.”

“Concerned?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “More like I just don’t want you slowing me down.”

But as you disappeared back into the fitting room, he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little infuriating sister helping him with this. Yet with every passing second, it felt like you were becoming something else entirely. He couldn’t shake the way his gaze lingered on you, how he was beginning to dread the moment you’d step out of his line of sight. When did you turn human and stopped being a complete bitch?

Maybe it’s just been too long since Rafe got laid. Yeah, that was right. Between throwing his dad’s ashes and building a name for himself in the business world, Rafe barely had time to find some release. He’d fix it tonight.

Rafe was already at the counter, signing off on the receipt for all the dresses you’d tried on and decided that would be used in the weekend. His jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the numbers.

“Well, that was fun,” you quipped, an exaggerated smile as you leaned next to him, telling the lady that he’d be carrying all the bags.

Rafe shot you a look, muttering, “Fun? For you, maybe.”

“Come on, Rafe,” you teased, “one of the conditions for me agreeing to this whole thing was that you pay for everything.”

He scoffed, sliding his black card back into his wallet. “Yeah, trust me, I’m well aware. Still doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“Don’t be such a baby. We’re practically made of money,” you said, glancing at the bags filled with dresses for the wedding weekend. “Besides, you should be thanking me. You’re the one getting something out of this.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a headache.”

You rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully - a bit too hard. “You’re so dramatic.”

He offered you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen before shoving half of the bags to you.

As you stepped out into the street, Rafe hesitated. Against his better judgment, he found himself saying, “You hungry?”

You blinked, clearly surprised. “Why, Rafe Cameron, are you actually offering to buy me food after spending all that cash on dresses?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, starting to walk toward a small café nearby. “But since we’re supposed to be convincing everyone at this wedding, we might as well figure out the rules over lunch.”

You followed, a surprised smirk playing on your lips. “Rules? You mean besides the one where you’re my personal ATM for the weekend?”

“Yeah, that one too,” he said dryly as they found a table outside the café, placing the bags down not so gently.

You sat down, menus in hand, and for a brief moment, they both seemed content to sit in silence. Until you broke it.

“Okay, so first rule,” you glanced up from the menu. “No kissing.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why would think I’d kiss you? I’m not desperate”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” you insisted, tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” she insisted, her tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“Strictly business, huh?” He smirked, shaking his head. “You say that, but you’ll be the one swooning if we get too close.”

You let out a laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Please, Cameron, if you were half as charming as you think you are, you wouldn’t need a fake girlfriend in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m charming enough. You’re just stubborn and blind.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Admit it - you’re at least a little curious what it’d be like.”

Your smile faltered just for a second before it was replaced with a disgusted face, “Curious? About you? Only to see how much more annoying you can get.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to your legs as you shifted in the seat, his jaw tightening as he caught himself. Annoying. Infuriating. But damn if you’re not hot, he thought, biting back a comment. His expression hardened, trying to snap himself out of it. He really needed to get laid, quickly.

You crossed your arms, leaning forward a little. “Second rule: no jealous boyfriend act. I don’t need you scaring off guys at the wedding.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Why would I be jealous? Get over yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” you leaned back in your chair. “Just remember, this isn’t real. No need for the possessive act.”

“I got it. Fake dating. No jealousy,” he repeated, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“And no trying to use this as an excuse to annoy me,” you added with a pointed look. “Topper won’t be knowing about this. Ever.”

Rafe barked out a laugh. “Annoy you? That’s practically the only fun part of this arrangement.”

“Right, because you’re soooo fun to be around,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Look, just follow my lead, alright? I’ll make sure we don’t look like complete idiots in front of my business associates,” he said, picking up his menu.

“I’m not the one who looks like an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, pretending to read the menu.

He snorted, clearly hearing you, but chose not to respond. The air was filled with silence again as they waited for the waiter.

Finally, you set your menu down and locked eyes with him. “Okay, but one more thing.”

“What now?” he asked, exasperated.

“No flirting with other girls while we’re there. I’m not covering for you if you get caught in some hotel scandal.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, half amused and half annoyed. “Please. I should’ve known you were the jealous type.”

“Oh, sure,” your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just stick to the plan, Rafe. We get in, play our parts, and get out without embarrassing ourselves. You can handle that, right?”

Rafe leaned in slightly, his smirk still in place. “I don’t know, princess. You seem pretty good at embarrassing yourself. Might be contagious.”

You glared at him but couldn’t hold back a small smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

You opened you mouth to respond, ready say that it made you the kindest person in the world, but the waiter returned just in time to take your orders. As you waited for the waitress to come back with your order, you pulled your phone to scroll, had seen enough of Rafe’s face for the afternoon.

You tried to think of the best way to survive this fake dating arrangement with as little emotional damage as possible for one weekend. Maybe you’d end up killing each other first.

“Can you…” you took a deep breath, nibbling on your bottom lip while you looked around before meeting his gaze. “Not tell Topper about what you’ve seen earlier?”

“The douchebag?” Rafe arched a brow, his jaw tensing as he remembered the encounter, your hair tousled.

“He isn’t a douchebag but yeah, that.” you let out a long sigh, sipping on your juice.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s see how you will do during the wedding, huh.” He offered you one of these smug smirks that made you want to punch his face. Of course he wouldn’t make things easy for you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk

[santacoppelia]

Aziraphale's voice - Michael Sheen's voice

I know we all have talked a lot about Michael Sheen's ability to manage microexpressions with his face, but this post is to mark another really interesting character crafting decision: his voice.

I believe that, If you are a hearing person and you watch Good Omens in its original language, identifying Aziraphale's pitch, tone and timbre is really easy. That's because it is slightly higher and more of a dulcet tone than the usual Michael Sheen voice (which usually is more deep and lower).

However, there are three times when Aziraphale uses the "Michael Sheen voice" in season 2 (I'm not sold on having heard it during season 1). All of them are on point for the character and I love the acting choice, so I came here to share:

I have already seen this one discussed, so it goes first: the "Azirapalala- Aziraphale" moment, when correcting Furfur in the e04 minisode. It is made even funnier because we have already seen him being so happily flamboyant... And his voice going lower with the annoyance of correcting his name is precious.

When he vows to protect Gabriel, during the final defense of the bookshop, in e06. “You came to me, I said I would protect you And I will”. His voice shifts as he makes that last point clear, and suddenly his Sheen voice becomes the sign of his commitment to keep his word. He doesn't use that voice when menacing the demons; he goes with a more "Aziraphale tone", while having his face do the "fierce" work.

My personal favorite: during e01, when Crowley comes back after their fight, trying to keep his cool, and Aziraphale is so not having it. He uses his natural register when he says he wants "a proper apology, actually". And he practically keeps that tone until the apology is finished.

@susanwhynow noticed (and I had absolutely MISSED) that when he answers the "Smitten. I believe." he is using his Michael voice. I was fooled by the "You're being silly!" being delivered in a tender, usual Aziraphale manner... But yeah, one of the best lines of these two being sweet is in "Michael tone". Do with this what you want :D

That is quite an acting choice! When a character is built around choices that separate them so clearly from the person who performs them, deciding to use the "natural" repertoire is really meant to make an impact. It is a really subtle voice work, but goes a long way to convey the seriousness of those moments for Aziraphale.

And I brought this here just to present my respects to Michael Sheen for those choices!!

[tetzoro]

☽◯☾ - THE LOVE COOK

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : Sanji has always had an affinity for cooking but nothing could ever compare to cooking for you. But his plan backfires and he realizes he’s in for more than he bargained for.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. perv!sanji x dom!reader ; minor food play, handjob, minor cum play, lots of praise, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, usage of good boy (once), — WC : 4.6k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Waxing Crescent ! ꒱  — kinktober masterlist

Sanji's always had an affinity for cooking. Since he was young, his love for it wove into the depths of his very being, one of the things he greatly identified with. 

Under Zeff's vigorous training, the young cook fought to chase his passion, learning everything he could in what it meant to be a chef that was fit enough for the seas. And as time went on, it only strengthened. Year after year of trying new recipes, of feeding people who were hungry and above all, never wasting a drop — the bond grew along with him.

But as he got older, there was a new bonus for cooking. One that was filthy and always left him feeling like a perv, and yet — he couldn’t stop indulging himself.

Sanji really, really loved cooking for women.

It's honestly sinful how much he enjoys serving them food. How he makes sure his fingers grace their lap with a napkin — the fleeting touch of their thigh sending a thrill throughout his body, always ensuring to push in their chair a little too tightly so their chest presses against the table, and of course, feeding them a heartfelt compliment here and there while eating up their flustered state.

Every cook loves to see the reaction their food can evoke in people but Sanji takes it to a new level. 

Women ooh and aww over his cooking, after that first bite he can clearly see it written all over their beautiful face’s. The direct line of pleasure he supplied them effortlessly coating their features, eyes rolling to the back of their head at the divine taste of their favorite foods.

But the real treat is when he hears their moans of approval. Quiet, loud, breathless, guttural, he’s heard it all. It's only natural that he savors the sound in the deepest banks of his memory to touch himself to those keepsakes later, pairing it with their heavenly expressions as his fist closes around his cock.

So when he finally has you as his little taste tester, sitting across from him as he serves you, the game changes. Suddenly, all of the other women he’s served pale in comparison to your reaction.

The moment the dessert coated fork touches your mouth he can see the explosion of gratification before him and he counts every blessing he has front row seats.

The small smile that graces your face, licking the extra cream off your lips as if you couldn’t get enough, an elongated yet quiet hum followed by his name and whatever praise you had for him immediately had his cock swelling in his trousers, pushing against the tightness of the fabric.

For a breath, he was just as dazed as you, watching your signs of contentment, your taste buds positively satisfied with all the flavors he lovingly poured into the dish. 

But he needed more. 

He needed to hear your praise once again.

“You like it?” Sanji barely managed to ask, straightening up as he tried to hide his lower half behind the counter.

“Like it?” You swallow down the food, your pretty eyes meeting his and he feels as if he was brutally shot by cupid's arrow, headshotted and left without any hope of being saved. “I love it.”

Something electric buzzed in the room that felt far too foreign to Sanji. Compliments would always effortlessly spill from his lips as easy as breathing but the way you were looking at him whisked every last drop of air from his lungs, suffocating them with the addicting allure of your praise.

The roles were suddenly reversed and now you were the one who was eyeing him.

Stalking up like a panther ready to strike, you rise from your chair and make your way over to him with a dark look in your eye he hasn’t been privy to before. Each movement was dragged out, languid yet precise. Like this was the moment you had been patiently waiting for and the thought drove Sanji close to madness.

“Mon-cheri–” Sanji started as he backed up against the counter under the intense aura you were emitting. It wasn’t a well thought out plan as you begin to corner him, effectively catching him in your little trap. He can’t lie and say the energy didn’t excite him, but it was certainly unexpected. Far too long he had been pining over you, dreaming of a moment like this but now that it’s here, he’s not so sure what to do.

“You know what would make this taste even better?” A redundant question as you don’t give him a chance to answer. 

Taking your pointer finger, you gently scoop up some of the whipped cream off of the delicious pastry that Sanji had ever so graciously made for you. With a measured stroke, you glide his cherished creation down his neck, along his pulse point so you can feel how vigorously it races for you, his heart throbbing viciously against the chamber of his ribcage.

“W-what are you doing?” The question falls flat, dithery nerves striking up a cord within him that had him wanting to reach for his nearest cigarette to cope with the heart palpitations you were giving him with each move you make. “Wait, don’t waste it!”

“Waste it?” You tilt your head as you stand before him. His hands clutch onto the edge of the counter behind him in an attempt to steel himself. A soft puff of air caresses Sanji's skin moments before you lean in with your tongue peeking out of the confines of your mouth. dragging the pink muscle along his neck, you hum in approval at the sweet taste. “Just what I thought, even sweeter.”

His face burns red, the flames desperately licking at his cheeks under the sear of your compliments. Normally, he would be the one gifting them out, carried with a sweet melody of adoration. The energy he so readily gives out is now crashing back at him in full force and the poor cook can only tremble in anticipation. 

Sanji's eye pinches shut in hopes of taking a moment to gather himself. But you were equipped with another dose of admiration, ready to pour it over him until he felt drowned in affection.

“You have such a pretty face, Sanji.” You push his hair back, revealing both of his closed eyes. “And beautiful eyes, I wish you’d show them more.”

Your wish is his command after all.

Slowly, Sanji's eyes begin to open — showcasing the birth of a new day as he reveals the beautiful blue that pools in his irises. The kind that reminds you of the All Blue book he’s shown you countless times when the two of you would curl up together while keeping watch for the ship. But once they lock onto yours, they abruptly morph into the stormy seas of the new world, holding the utter excitement of uncharted territory that’s waiting to be claimed.

“What are you doing?” Sanji asks the question again.

“Nothing.”Your voice carries a silken lilt that smoothes over him like a balm.  “Nothing you don’t want me to do, at least.”

“Like what?” He breathes out. If it wasn’t for the close proximity due to you crowding him in the small corner of the kitchen, he doubts that you would’ve picked up on his shaky words.

“Oh Sanji,” The giggle that spills from your lips has his knees buckling, hands twitching to touch you and he swears he might fall over for a moment from the mountain of sheer desire he’s trying to hike through. “Don’t be so coy. You’re the one that’s always flirting with me ever since I joined the crew, did you not mean all the wonderful things you said?”

“O-of course I meant them!” Sanji's face becomes coated in a dark pink once again, the blush spreading throughout his cheeks as blood starts to drip from his nose. He quickly catches it with his hand, all too acutely aware of his traitorous body. “I'd never lie to you, my sweet.”

“Then don’t act so surprised.” Your hands slide up his arms, eyes intently watching him as he shudders under your touch. “And let me kiss you.”

Without another breath, lips softly collide. An explosion of shooting stars burst between the two of you as sparks caress your body. It's tender, unpracticed, and entirely wonderful. Utilizing small movements as you slowly figure out the rhythm of each other's mouths. How do his lips move? How do yours? How could they mold together so you can share the same breath?

After a few moments, you begin to gel against his – growing needier, craving more. Suddenly, the little pecks aren’t enough and your senses long to be invaded by everything that makes him up. 

So, you boldly take the first step, your tongue pokes out to trace along his lip, feeling him out while your taste buds engrave the flavor to memory. His tongue follows suit, the soft muscle touches yours and after that, you blur into each other.

Like waves that grace the shoreline, you find a steady tide of give and take — back and forth as you learn what he likes, what will draw him back in, what will pull him under your current. 

Following a steady motion that you two create together, your own song dedicated to your souls courting each other, dancing around feelings the other had been too scared to speak of.

Reluctantly, your lungs scream for reprieve so you pull apart, a thread of saliva connecting you as you pant heavily, breaths fanning each other's face.

Sanji’s blown out eyes are stuck on your lips and you realize that air be damned, nothing would nourish you more than the way he kisses every emotion he’s ever held for you against your lips, grabbing at you like you’re the very thing that’s keeping him tethered to this world.

Another collision and you’re back to it — more desperate than before. The few moments you went without him felt like eons and you had to make up for lost time. A reunion that proceeds past this lifetime, one that was premeditated as the connection only strengthens with each glide of your lips.

His tongue swirls around your own, hungered grunts breaking out from deep within his chest as he grows addicted to the way you taste. Hands grasping and pulling along your body as if he needed more, needing to fully melt into you.

And you’re more than ready to let him.

Leading him to the couch, he lands with a soft thud before you begin to straddle him. The anticipation drums in his ears, blood pumping at an abnormal rate as it figures out where to flow. So much has already pooled all the way to the tip of his cock, painfully pressing against the confines of his trousers. The rest threatens to gush from his nose at an alarming velocity and it’s taking everything in him to hold it back.

All of Sanji's muscles grow taut in an attempt to reign himself in, locked in place as he waits for you to make your move to do something that would hopefully help relieve him of this agonizing pressure. He was simply pretty putty that laid in your tender yet tantalizing hands, leaving you to pick him apart and shape him into whatever you wished for as long as you just kept playing with him.

“How pretty.” You coo as you get rid of his suit trousers, freeing his needy cock by sliding the fabric down his thighs a little. Through a practiced motion, you spit into your hand, wrapping it around his length to spread some more slick.

Sanji gasped, jaw hanging open once your fist closed around his leaking tip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

His face said it all — he was looking up at you with such awe and desire. The kind that made him think you strung up all the stars and moon just so the beams would cascade along your skin so beautifully — just as it is now.

Pockets of light illuminate you so he can see everything you’re doing through an ethereal filter that the heavens themselves must’ve constructed.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, jerking into your divine hand. The honey coated compliment was so sincere, genuine, uttered in a complete state of reverence. It melted your heart to see him still wanting to give so much even though your intention was to focus on him.

Sanji deserves to be worshiped. It’s something you’ve thought to yourself for quite some time. sure, he could be a bit much sometimes, going over the top with compliments and relentlessly chasing after women.

But after spending so much time at sea with him, you’ve started to peel back the layers behind the woman chasing persona he loves to wear so much. To the man who had unshakeable morals, who protected those who needed protecting, to feed every hungry person — friend or foe. 

Sanji has so much to give, so generous with all the love he holds in his body. The love he so desperately wants to receive back but hides it behind cheesy pick up lines that can be dismissed with a laugh. 

But enough was enough. It was Sanji's turn to be adored, to be told all the beautiful things about himself while you stroke his cock and coo at him until he spills all over your hand.

Which is exactly where you had him now.

“You’re so sweet, Sanji.” You pepper a kiss along his jaw and to his scruffy chin, wrist leisurely flicking as you hold his cock in your hands. It was pretty, which was fitting. Long with a tip so red you thought he might burst. Luckily, most of the blood stayed pumping between his thighs rather than from his nose. For now, at least.

“You’re the aah-“ His blonde locks toss as his head hangs back, heavenly bliss whirling around him as he curls his toes — trying not to cum so quickly. He was so sensitive but he wanted more, greedy for everything you were more than ready to give him. “Sweet one.”

“No, no, Sanji.” You lightly nibble on his ear and his hips stutter up with a loud groan. “You’re going to listen to me, okay? If you want me to keep going, you just have to sit there and be good for me. No complimenting me, no trying to please me, we’re focused on you right now, okay?”

Sanji didn’t know what to say. Primal instinct told him to sit there and be quiet but how could he when you were an angel sent down from heaven, just for him? The pleasure you were feeding a starving soul like him was too good to pass up.

“Okay.” He manages to choke out as his release pools deep into his gut, threatening to spill out everywhere. All he needed was that extra push.

“Good boy.”  The phrase falls out of your mouth like a purr and he immediately cums into your hand with a whine, biting his lip trying to stay quiet. You don’t stop your movements as you press your lips against his, swallowing his whimpers as you start to overstimulate him.

But you’re merciful, and you don’t want to punish him. The only thing on your mind is making him feel loved, feel wanted, feel adored. 

“Let me —” Sanji starts to move, adjusting himself to tuck his half-hard cock away.

“Ah, ah, ah.” The smirk that takes up your face was killer as you brought your messy hand toward your mouth. You make a small show of playing with it, feeling how sticky it was, how it ran down your finger before plopping it into your mouth. “Don’t want to waste any of it, right?”

Sanji couldn’t even speak, the words stolen right from the tip of his tongue as yours danced between your fingers, removing every trace of him. You move down to kneel in front of him, the gasp he lets out sending a shiver down your spine. Anticipation bubbling up inside of you as lust pools in your gut, starting to burn with need.

Holding his half-hard cock in the palm of your hand, you swirl your tongue around, cleaning up the residual mess he made with a few precise movements. You lick along the length, feeling him hardening under your ministrations.

It only encourages you to engulf him in your mouth, showing him how far you could take him down your throat. Sanji groaned in response, fingers digging into your hair as his thighs tensed.

Once you’re finished, you remove your own panties from under your skirt and climb into his lap to straddle him once again. 

“Sanji, you really are just so sweet.” You repeat your words from earlier, gliding your now bare, drooling cunt against his stiff cock, “Makes me want to eat you up.” You pause, sucking a mark along his neck before whispering in his ear. “…devour you.”

Sanji was truly at a loss for words. Always the one so readily equipped with a line to show his undying admiration was now struggling to string together a coherent thought as your slick started to cover him.

“Like look at these wondrous hands.” To make a point, you hold them up as you continue to grind against him. “Always providing for us, making the world's most delicious food and spoiling us to your heart's content.”

Tugging his hands, you make sure they cover your chest so he can get a proper squeeze in that causes his nose to drip yet again, his cock undoubtable leaking with more pre-cum.

“I'd do anything for you.” He whispers, thumbs gently brushing over your nipple. Sanji was eerily quiet for a moment as he caressed the plush of your flesh, transfixed on the sight before him. 

“Anything?” The question hangs in the air as you brush his bangs to the side. His slightly sweaty forehead helped keep some of the pieces tucked from his eyes, both of his eyebrows now on full display – just like you wanted.

“Anything.” He breathes the word out like a prayer, a promise that he’d never deny you of what you’d ask of him. 

“Are you ready for me?” Your thumb trails along his parted lower lip, his darkened eyes hazy with an overwhelming lust but entirely set on you.

“Please.” He moans as you line up your soppy entrance with his cock, slick with your saliva and twitching with need. 

“Anything for you, monsieur.” Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, letting him feel every inch of himself bury into you at an agonizing rate. Your wet, welcoming walls greedily sucked him in, wrapping snuggly around him so tightly that his head grows blank. 

Sanji's moans fill the room, his hands gravitating toward your waist as if it was pulled by another force, thumbing circles against your skin. It's taking everything in him not to bury his fingers into you and slam you down onto his cock, letting the most primal part of him mount you and take you in a way that directly challenges his morals.

The pace catches him off guard, fingers quickly moving to dig into the scratchy fabric of the couch. It wasn’t enough to steady him, the precipice of his release hastily rising at a rate he could barely keep up with.

The way your warm walls constrict around him, enveloping him in a way that makes him think you never want to let go. He barely has enough strength to pound up into you, opting instead to capture your nipple in his mouth, latching on while his hand caresses your other breast.

Sanji has always had a silver tongue, able to sing the sweetest praise and compliments toward any woman within a 20 foot radius. But you never thought about how well his mouth would be used in other ways. His soft tongue caresses your pert nipple, hardened by the contact and the slightly chilly air in the kitchen.

Lithe fingers gently pinch your other one, before trailing down along your sides and slipping between your thighs to roll your neglected nub between his digits. The sudden pressure gives your body an electric jolt, lurching forward and pressing your chest into Sanji's face more. 

Each roll of your hips earned another tender groan from the man below you, lost in a haze as you continuously fed him the sin that he had been craving for as long as he can remember. He pulls back from between the valley of your breasts, looking up at you with hearts flitting around in his eyes, his cock twitching in tune with its beat.

“Want you to come for me, mon-cheri.” He releases his mouth from your breast, looking up at you, limbs still twisted around you as he drives into you harder.

“Yeah? Want me to come all over your pretty cock?” You mewl, pressing your body flush against his as your own thighs start to tremble.

“Yes, please! I need it, need to come with you.” Sanji’s voice almost cracks under the intensity, gripping onto your shaky thighs as he begins to meet you thrusts, fucking himself harder into you. Your body jiggled under the intensity, spiraling you to your high and threatening to unravel you to your very core if you let go. 

So you did – letting the blinding white wash over your vision, course and tremble through your body as he fills you up with ropes of cum. Sanji all but whined, biting his lip in pure ecstasy as he teeters over the edge of oblivion.

The two of you try to catch your breath, a pair of lovers leaning against each other more out of necessity than comfort – but it was welcomed nonetheless. Sanji drew little circles along your back, the glide of his fingers soothing you back down from your high. 

He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead, moving you so you’re sitting on the couch, your head lolling to the back of it as you stare up at the ceiling.

Sanji shakily rises to his feet, swiftly moving toward the kitchen to get a fresh cloth to clean up the mess between your legs. But his keen eye spies something else that might serve more of a purpose right now.

“May I ?” Sanji asks, kneeling down from where you are sitting on the couch, gently wedding himself between your knees. Taking the whip cream he had swiped on his finger, he drags it along your inner thigh and throbs at the way you gasp in surprise.  “After all, I still haven’t gotten my own taste yet.”

“But I told you –”

“Oh sweetheart, I know what you told me,.” Sanji pries your legs open a little more, licking his lips as he takes in the way his cum is oozing out of your pulsing cunt. “Would you really deprive me of this?”

The sheer eagerness fills his eyes like wide saucers. The over enthusiastic man before you was more than ready to please you now, holding back this entire time as you had your way with him. He had been so patient that maybe he did deserve a reward.

“No.” Your voice is a little quieter yet filled with unbridled curiosity. The ghost of his tongue gliding over your nipples earlier resurfaces and you shudder in delight.

“Good, so good for me.” Sanji praises, licking up the stripe of frosting that laid defensively on your inner thigh, dragging it all the way to your cunt. The soft breathes from Sanji tickled at the sensitive flesh and had you trying to squirm away. But he had quick reflexes, gently digging in fingers into your hips and pulling them closer to his face. “Wouldn’t want to waste a drop.”

Sanji lapped at the cum dripping out from your entrance, ensuring to clean up all of the mess he left behind. The taste of your shared essence hit his taste buds and he swears he’s never tasted anything better. Groaning into your cunt, he clutches onto your plushy thighs and begins to eat you out like a starved man.

The vibrations from his guttural grunts directly attack your clit. The hot flash of pleasure coursed through your veins, spreading along to every nerve that was attached to your body, singing out in ecstasy as your thighs began to tremble and lock around his head.

For added leverage, you weave your fingers through the soft, pretty strands of his blonde hair, tugging on them like reins that will steer you right to the climax you were steadily building towards.

“‘m close.” You gasp, not giving him a chance to move his head as he’s locked in. But you don’t hear one noise of complaint – instead, it was just another groan of approval that ripped through your body and pushed you towards the edge. 

Stars burst behind your eyes, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Sanji worked you through your orgasm, squeezing out all the pleasure before overstimulation started to bite at you. Using his hair, you pull him apart from your sensitive cunt. The blissed out smile on his face no doubt mirrored your own. 

“magnifique.” Sanji breathed out, watching as your chest heaves under the fight to catch your breath, your lungs desperately gulping down air as it took everything in you to float back down from your high. He leaves a  wake of gentle kisses along your inner thigh paired with the soft praises he coos at you. “The heavens orchestrated this moment for us, my own little angel coming down to save me.”

Sanji places one last kiss on your knee, tempted to go all the way down your leg and worship every inch of your skin. He rises back up, grabbing the cloth he had originally set out for and returns back before humming a tune that you hadn’t heard before.

“What’s that song?” you ask softly, body twitching in anticipation as Sanji runs the cool cloth between your legs and being very careful not to overstimulate you. Too much. His eyes flash up towards yours once you speak, his attention always set on you no matter what task he’s working on. This was no exception.

“There used to be a beautiful singer that would visit the Baratie when I was younger. She’d come in every few weeks and sing for everyone there.” He goes on to tell the story while still cleaning you up, kissing every freckle and mole he can spot as the cloth tenderly glides along your skin. “She sang many songs but this one was my favorite. It was a love song that told the story of a couple who longed to find adventure together, going as far as transcending time and space to meet each other in every life.”

“That's lovely.” You give a small smile as he finishes. Sanji reaches for your panties, sliding them back up your legs before it’s back where it belongs. His palms caress down your thighs as he rises back up, pressing a warm kiss against your forehead that made your head all fuzzy.  “I've never heard you sing before.”

“Then you should come into the kitchen more often while I’m cooking, Mon-Cheri. I'm always humming a tune.” His thumb trails along your bottom lip – mesmerized at how swollen and kiss-bitten it was. You push forward, giving it the slightest amount of pressure as you return the favor. 

“Maybe I will.” Sanji gives you a little wink, stepping back for a moment as he fishes through his pockets to find what he’s looking for.

“It would be my greatest honor to have the most beautiful person in all of the seas accompany me during my tedious tasks.” Sanji flashes his most charming smile before he places a cigarette in his mouth and sets it aflame with his trusty gold lighter. “Now, let’s have you finish your sweet treat so I can indulge in mine again after.”

tags : @ambiguouslady42 ᡣ𐭩