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thexsilentxwordsmith · 11 months ago

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Pussydrunk!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Cockdrunk!Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon comes home from deployment, hungry to have his pretty girl all to himself. Things get heated quick and before long you are both drunk off the feeling of the other. From this ask here.

Word Count: 5.4 k

Warnings:

The moment those heavy boots hit the threshold of the apartment, brown eyes are searching for you as Simon’s heart pounds in his ears the same as it had the entire drive over. He’s been gnawing at the bit since even before he returned to base a day ago, aching to get back to the gorgeous being living in his flat. The last month of his deployment he’s been on edge, counting down the days in agonizing fashion as the craving growing in the pit of his stomach gets worse and worse. Fuck, he’s missing you - all of you - something fierce.

Simon has missed those sweet moans of yours, the way you make his name sound so perfect through the stuttered gasps as you reach that level of incoherence that renders you completely useless; he has missed all the ways your body moves against and underneath him, writhing and back arching as his larger form overwhelms you; he has missed the way you fuck him, body begging for more even as you struggle to fit him all in and how beautiful it is to be inside you.

It is enough to drive the man insane.

From the bedroom you can hear the door opening and closing and rush to the living room as quick as your legs can move, carried by giddy nerves to see your lover again after so long. You knew he was meant to be in today, but not the time and so you’ve been on edge waiting and listening; as soon as you see him a deepening ache situates itself in your chest.

Simon clocks you as you come into the living room and he can’t find enough air to fill his lungs; by the way your cheeks instantly glow with warmth and your eyes sparkle he’s sure you are feeling the same tension fill the air around you the moment you two are in sight of one another. You are the one to close the distance as Simon’s limbs feel too heavy to move at first, blood being drawn to other places along his body that need it more now that he is near to the object of his desire.

“Hey there stranger,” you smile up into those familiar balaclava- clad features as your heartbeat steadily becomes more erratic from your body flooding with that desperate longing to be against him once again. It is always the same: when you two are apart for long periods when he has to be away the moment you are in front of one another again it is like striking a match in a room filled with gasoline. “Long time no see.”

He stares back down at you, light chocolate eyes taking in the face he hasn’t seen properly in too damn long. “Well ‘ello there yerself, pretty girl,” he returns, gravely tone sending chills down your spine as he drops the gear on his shoulder to the floor so that he has free range of motion to cup his calloused hand along your soft, delicate cheek. “It’s been a hot fuckin’ minute. Did ya miss me, luv?”

Before his brain can register what’s happening he senses something brush up against him in the small space still between your bodies and as his eyes travel down he sees that your hand is grabbing at his belt buckle, silky digits lacing themselves around the metal clasp. His eyes jump back up to yours instantly.

You aren’t wasting any time, are you? Fucking hell.

“Missed you a whole fucking lot, Simon,” you say under your breath as you give his belt a firm tug forward so that he has to take a step into you. Your thighs are already being rubbed together where you stand; it’s instant the way he can turn you on just by his presence alone. “Didn’t know when you’d be in; been waiting as patiently as I could, but I gotta say it hasn’t been easy. Got my nerves all flustered. How about you? Are you flustered, baby?”

You just have to do it, don’t you? That one damned gesture that always sends him reeling.

It isn’t a secret how the time apart makes him pine for you as if he is a man dying of thirst: for those hot, breathless moments spent between your thighs, for the way your bodies seem created only for the other, for the intense sensations of euphoria that only you can give him. So when your fingers hook into his belt to pull him in closer, you know what effect it will have on making him crumble, don’t you?

Eight months is far too fucking long not to have any piece of you and any little touch would have done the trick to do him in, but you know the exact combination that will have him throwing you on your back in a heartbeat. He is a man starved of his addiction and it’s about goddamn time he had another hit. As you tug at the leather with a smirk across your lips, doe-eyed stare not so innocent anymore, all that yearning that had been bubbling right under the calm surface of those autumn-colored eyes for eight long, agonizing months explodes with force.

No words, not a goddamn sound as that skull mask is ripped up off of Simon’s face in a flash quicker than your eyes can catch. Your body is moved by two strong arms more than capable of manhandling those curves with ease and find yourself slammed into the wall while he clasps your chin securely in his grip so that hungry lips can scramble to aggressively capture your own. While your lips dance, his free hand roams up under your clothes to grab ahold of any piece of available flesh as all that pent up desire surges through his veins like liquid fire. His fingertips tremble as they brush across all that soft, balmy skin along your abdomen and around your hips, making him produce a guttural moan into your open mouth that you are forced to swallow down.

That huge, hulking body of his with its prominent muscles bulging everywhere even through his clothing overwhelms your own as he pins you harder against the wall while his grip descends to around your ass so that he can bring your hips forward, clothed pelvis rutting into you to catch any extra bit of friction he can as that tenting at the crotch of his pants swells the longer he grinds against you. His mouth is insatiable, stealing sloppy, frantic kisses one after another until your lips burn from the abrasion… and yet you still aren’t satisfied.

Simon feels your nipples through your t-shirt stiffening as his chest rubs against them, a reminder to his numbing brain that there is even more of a feast for him waiting just beneath your clothes if he can just get them off you; the couple of nudes he keeps in his phone that you send him while he’s away are only a pale comparison to the real fucking thing and he’s been dying see it in person.

You’re close to one another, but not fucking close enough.

He needs skin on skin, curves molded into curves, cock buried in you deep. That’s the crux of it all - he needs to be reminded of what you feel like wrapped around him, lose his mind as your cunt gives him the sensation he can get nowhere else from no one else. It consumes him in that moment until his thoughts are filled with nothing but the oncoming ecstasy that will soon be his.

Feverish fingers slip themselves into the waistband at the back of your pants as he continues to rut against you, the few layers of fabric between you about to be reduced as he shoves down taking your pants over the arch of your ass until they fall around your ankles and you can step out of them. Your own fingers are already undoing the buckle of his belt before your clothes can hit the floor; thank fuck that Simon likes to keep his wardrobe uncomplicated when on leave.

“Christ, I’m so fuckin’ hard for ya, sweetheart,” he breathes the heated, desperate words against your raw lips as hips continue to grind on you and make your work that much more difficult, “it’s been hell being away for so long. I’ve been fuckin’ starved, baby. That sweet little pussy of yours is callin’ my fuckin’ name. I need it, I need ya…fuckin’ can’t wait another goddamn second.”

The muscles along his abdomen tense through his shirt as you brush against them until finally his belt comes loose and you can move onto the button securing his pants. You finish undoing everything just in time for him to tear that fucking shirt clean off your top half before doing exactly the same to his own.

The middle of his chest is flushed pink and hastily you lean in to press your lips to it, through the tingle against your mouth from tiny hairs brushing over the delicate skin you can feel he is so warm it’s like he’s heated from the inside out. That broad chest heaves up and down heavily with the weight of his lust-filled breaths as you dot tender pecks along the center before he can’t take anymore and picks you up, throws you over his shoulder, and hurriedly drags you off to the bedroom hungry and ready to indulge.

“That’s it,” Simon says in that brash tone that lets you know he’s reached his limit. “Can’t take this ache ‘nother goddamn second. You and that sweet thing between your legs are mine now.”

He’s able to make it across the apartment in no time and throws open the bedroom door so that it hits the wall behind it with a booming thud as he stalks to the bed and sets you down on the surface, making sure to remove the pants hanging loosely around his hips as quick as he can along with his boxers. The moment he’s free of the clothing binding him that thick, meaty appendage springs to life, bobbing at attention as the vein along it pulses, and your breath hitches as your eyes are drawn to it; he’s not the only one who’s hungry and its been a hot fucking minute since you’ve laid eyes on all he has to offer.

You barely have time to scramble up towards the pillows at the head of the bed before he is crawling up towards you, a predator’s gaze making his iris’ flash and sparkle with an internal fire in the scant bit of light from the bedside lamp that illuminates the room.

Simon’s shoulder muscles tense as he moves on all fours until he’s over you, his cock dangling down as he gets between your legs so that it drags over the petals of your pussy. You can feel it throb as it becomes even more engorged with blood at the stimulation and it makes your mouth salivate. A strained grunt echoes through his closed lips as the tip grazes over that silky, heated skin between your thighs; he’s already vibrating with pleasure… what the fuck is gonna happen when he gets inside?

Only one way to find out…

Simon pulls your legs up high around his waist, wide torso keeping you nice and spread for him. You claw at his shoulder blades with your nails as you shove your hips into him, body practically begging for him to get inside already. Screw any foreplay, you can’t afford to wait and let this frantic moment slip by. There is only one thing you want in you and it is already throbbing at its destination.

“Fuck, please Simon, just get inside me,” your plea sends a shiver down his spine. “I don’t want to fucking wait…waited long enough.”

Spitting into his hand he applies the moisture to your entrance, lubricating the opening with hard presses of his fingertips along your cunt to help get things moving in the right direction. “Been a while, baby,” he returns as he aligns the tip and presses it against you while trying not to fall apart at the seams, “ya sure ya can still fuckin’ take it all?”

You nod aggressively, the need to be filled out by him overwhelming your every sense. You’ve waited patiently all this time, chomping at the bit for him to get back to you and now that he is here between your legs it’s all you can think about. “Give it to me,” you demand. “I need it baby, please, I’m aching something terrible. I need to feel you inside me again.”

How could he ever deny a request like that from you?

The world falls away as the tip slips through the threshold of your body and inside and he has to stop as just the head alone stretching you wide sends him spiraling. Your back arches off of the bed as you squirm under him, mouth falling open with half-formed moans that get caught in the back of your throat as the tight space is beginning to fill. Simon shudders with ecstasy, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to bite down in hopes that the sharp pain will force him to stay sane.

Another thrust shoves him in a bit more so that now he’s more than halfway there, but still has just a bit to go. Your body doesn’t stand a chance as you lay under him at his mercy. His fingernails graze your waist as his hands hold on tight; he has to fit it in, get to the base, completely surround himself within you. Taking a deep breath he gathers another burst of energy to thrust all the way until he bottoms out and you release a cry into the silence of the room.

“Goddamn ya feel so fuckin’ good princess, like a goddamn dream,” he gasps out as his head snaps down against your chest. “Pretty girl, my pretty fuckin’ girl, wanna keep ya fuckin’ full ‘a me all the time.”

Simon’s brain is quickly becoming mush as the warmness and growing wetness of your pussy makes his large form quiver at the bliss. You are no better, sanity slipping away as his hefty cock practically molds your walls to his specific shape as it rests inside. Hips begin to rock and are immediately punctuated by a deep-throated groan with each snap as he settles into a steady rhythm.

Thrust after thrust each one harder than the last pushes your body until it is shoved up and your head hits the wall behind the bed. Simon’s nose nuzzles into your neck as feeble whimpers leave the confines of your mouth and pack his head full. “Missed your sounds too,” he says, amidst another thrust. “Keep this up and it’s gonna be my fuckin’ end, sweetheart.” Another strong thrust follows and then another.

A yearning need to see himself fuck your gorgeous body suddenly engulfs his mind and so he slow sits himself up on his knees, making sure to keep himself inside you, so that he can get the perfect birdseye view of the beautiful way your body takes him in. It’s perfection and he cannot help but become absorbed in watching as each thrust in and out makes his cock disappear inside that narrow passage only to slip back out covered in more of your juices with each pass.

Over and over his hips rock into you, the muscles along his abdomen clenching, fingertips digging into your sides to hold you still as his speed steadily increases the longer he goes. Your music fills his head, whimpers of pleasure as he strikes against your g-spot from the angle he’s positioned in, and that is the only thing that is floating in there now as everything else becomes a blur.

The stoic and collected military officer is reduced to a glorious mess the longer he thrusts, drooling over you, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him all in as they flutter around his cock. It’s been too long, too many nights spent alone without your company stuck half-way across the world with only his hand to keep him occupied when he can get a free moment, which those were few and far between. But nothing, nothing ever could compare to the feeling of you.

“Can’t get enough,” he stammers with a groan, so wrapped up in the moment that speech is near impossible to produce. “Fuckin’ desperate for ya, need more…need fuckin’ more…”

Simon is deep inside you and yet that ache is still monstrous, eating him alive so that anything outside of the ecstasy of your flesh is just fucking gone. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he’s obsessed with your body. It isn’t enough though, never enough. You have completely consumed him; he is under your spell and nothing can break the charm.

His head is spinning, thoughts vacant like he is wasted; fuck, he’s high off the sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Now that he is inside you, there is no way he can leave anytime soon. There’s no goddamn way he’s going to let either of you come yet, not after how long you two have gone without each other.

That hot coil tensing in the pit of his stomach pulls tighter and tighter, but he will not let it snap… not yet. No, he needs this to last as long as he physically can keep it up and so he knows what he has to do and with all his strength he does it; that once intense pounding slows down until he stops amongst your whimpered mewling.

“What’re you doing?” you stutter, hips desperately trying to buck against him, but he pins them down for a bit.

“Uh, uh,” he shakes his head, “don’t ya fuckin’ dare think you’re gonna come yet. Ya feel too fuckin’ good to let go of.”

Oh shit… You were in for it now, but just how much you could have never guessed.

“No…no, please… I need you to keep going,” you plead as your throat strains to release the words, water rimming the whites of your eyes. That consuming ache is so deep in your bones it threatens to devour you whole, causing you to rip at the very seams as it permeates every fiber of your being until your entire form is primed like an explosive ready to combust. You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking think; everything is focused on how much the feeling of him is consuming all of you like a fire burning through dry tinder.

A shuddering breath escapes his lips; even stopping doesn’t help much, your body just feels too good and so he has to at least rut carefully against it. “I know, baby, I know,” he groans as his fingers dig into your hip to now force you to grind your clit into the base of his shaft. “But ya want this to fuckin’ last, yeah? Ya don’t wanna be done with me just yet, do ya?”

That thick, veiny appendage lay inside you, its girth stretching out the walls of your cunt to capacity as it simply rests there throbbing with the beat of his rapid heart rate, stewing in the filthy mess of juices he’s already made between your legs. You choke on a whimper as the stimulation to your clit sends a shockwave through to your toes and you clench them together, gathering some of the sheets into their grip.

“No,” you shake your head wildly. “You just feel so fucking good, I can’t help it… feels so good… I just wanna keep feeling good with you, Simon.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he praises as he leans forward and presses his burning lips to the skin on your stomach, knowing that no matter what you would have said he wasn’t going to let you tap out yet; he needs your pussy like he needs air to survive. “It’s been too fuckin’ long since we’ve been able ta do this…need ta make up for all the lost time.”

Simon’s dreamt about this the entire time you’ve been apart; insatiable, desperate, carnal fantasies about fucking your tight hole to within an inch of your sanity, making you come so hard that you can’t move for hours after. His cock has been throbbing for months with nothing but his fucking hand to take the edge off as he pictures filling out every inch of your hole until there is nowhere left for his cock to go.

Another couple of minutes of simply breathing, grinding, and focusing on the way the skin of your torso is so soft against his lips and he’s far enough from that ledge that he wants to start thrusting full force again. He leans down and wraps his arms around your body and you take it as a sign that he’s going to start up again, only for him to roll you both until you are the one on top now. The movement is unexpected, but you are more than willing to go along with it if it means you can take control of your own pleasure.

As he situates himself under you, his hands roam up and down your sides while he takes a second to enjoy how you look perched over him: full tits directly in his face, hair cascading around your cheeks as you peer down into his face, eyes rolling back in your head every time a sensitive point gets stimulated. You are his fucking fantasy when you get on top.

“I wanna have ya ride me for a bit,” he breathes. “Show me how good ya ride it, pretty girl. Make my cock your toy.”

As long as he stays inside you, you’ll do whatever the hell he wants.

Placing your hands on his hard chest for support while his hand moves back to your hips, Simon guides you up and down until you are bouncing in rhythm to match his racing heartbeat. Harder and harder he shoves you forcefully down to get as deep into you as possible until you can feel bruises rising where his hands have a hold of you, yet that doesn’t matter at all as you can only comprehend the way his cock is rendering you too fucking dumb to think of anything else.

Pushing down against his chest you bob up and down on your knees as best as you can, trying to keep up with his relentless pace. He told you to use him, but all you want is for him to make you his living fleshlight as you are forced to take it all. Your movements start to get sloppy after a time as you can hardly keep yourself focused anymore with how good it feels and Simon takes notice, though he is ready with the solution.

His hips start to strike up into your pussy as even though he is beneath you he is more than capable of taking control, not wanting to move into a new position just yet. You whimper and whine with your mouth hung open as each percussive hit sends shockwaves of euphoria ripping through you just like you want. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss.

You can only sit and take every last delectable inch that he gives you as his massive girth stretches your walls with every thrust of his pelvis upward. The room fills with the wet, sticky music of your bodies slapping against each other as he works your hole as if this is the last chance he will ever get to fuck you and he needs to make it count.

Minute after minute, his full attention being focused solely on you, each stroke along that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves inside your core drives you increasingly closer to that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off at any point without notice. He must be feeling it too, for again his thrusting slows until he is simply grinding against you once again and that building pressure falls away.

Over and over again this happens, Simon edging you both closer and closer before struggling to back off and changing positions in a constant rotation, each position just as mind-numbing as the last now that you are cockdrunk. You find yourself on your knees with your head shoved into the mattress and then on your side with him pressed up against your back, bouncing on top with his hand desperately cupping at your tits and then returning to where it all started on your back, all the while the constant humping during the calmer moments keeps you primed and yet just far enough off the edge that each new round keeps building towards that desperate end.

Goddamn his stamina is something of legend, but when he wants something bad enough he will make it work no matter how hard he must push himself. And right now he cannot get enough of you no matter how he tries.

Fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard you think you might pass out, the room so warm your hair sticks to the sides of your face, the scent of sex pungent with each ragged breath shared between your close mouths; every single sense overstimulated to the point of barely being able to process it all. You are perched on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, foreheads pressed together tight with eyes shut.

Simon leans in to kiss your raw mouth, but even the contact from your lips makes him gasp from the sensitivity. Your legs are shaking violently now as he’s slowed once more, every muscle pushed to its limit as he rocks his hips into you just because it feels too good to ever stop completely. Both of you are sparkling from head to toe, coated with the speckled dew of perspiration to match the absolute mess Simon has made between your legs.

Smooth thighs glisten with that warm, moist, natural lubrication of your cunt as it dribbles out of you and onto the sheets beneath to leave a noticeable dark spot on the bed that’s still warm to the touch. Simon’s mouth waters as the taste buds along his tongue prick to life at the sight, begging to savor all your sweet nectar, but he tells himself to not get ahead of things.

The rest of the night you are going to be his and he will get everything he wants of it all before the end.

Just like you, Simon is out of his goddamn mind with pleasure. The sensation consumes everything inside him until there is nothing left; the only way he can communicate is through breathy groans and staggered grunts as if he is only an animal now. He craves to be the blood in your veins, the air in your lungs, the only goddamn thing you need. And that is when he knows that he cannot hold off another second.

Without warning he pulls out of you only briefly so that he can aggressively flip you over onto your back, getting into position by kneeling in front of you as he throws your legs onto his broad, sculpted shoulders before he grips your hips and instantly re-enters you. This is it, though he can’t barely speak, it’s gonna happen whether he is ready or not so he is going to be damned sure to make it go off with a fucking bang.

Again Simon picks up his desperate pace, his abs dripping with sweat as they contract and release after each desperate thrust. Those brown eyes close off to the rest of the world, just absorbing every last second of that mind-numbing goodness that he can before he blows.

“F-fuck, Simon...mmmm…” you whine your plea as you can feel that warmth rising harshly in the pit of your stomach, “p-please… d-d-don’t stop.”

Your mind is all static, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it; it’s overwhelming in its intensity that you actually aren’t entirely sure you want to come yet. If you could just stay suspended in this moment forever, you’d die happy. All that edging has done its job just as intended though and with a few more strong thrusts of him deep in your core, that is it: like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your orgasm rips through you with such force you nearly bolt off the bed as your back arches and your hips buck harshly against him.

A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he milks his cock inside you, coating your walls in his cum until he has no more left in him to give. He sounds like a wild animal and it makes your body vibrate with exhilaration; you are the one to make him come with such force he is reduced to more basic instincts.

You fall back against the bed as your body shakes violently with the force of your orgasm. Never has such intense pleasure overwhelmed you so thoroughly that your limbs tremble uncontrollably before and though the exhaustion overtakes you, it is euphoric. Simon slowly slips himself out of your pussy as he sits back, his overstimulated cock twitching with sensitivity as he removes it from your tightness.

You whimper a little, instantly missing the feeling of him stretching you out and honestly wishing he would have just stayed inside even longer, but you know if you don’t have even a small break that you are not going to survive.

His strong hands hold your vibrating legs apart as he sits back on the mattress exhausted and a million miles away as he watches as his cum dribbles out of your pussy like honey; goddamn did he stuff you to the brim. All you can do is lay there with your eyes shut tight, heart thudding against your ribs as you focus all your remaining brain power on breathing. From your head to the tips of your toes you sparkle with perspiration as if you are decked out in diamonds that shimmer in the low light of the room.

“Christ Simon…gonna kill me,” you chuckle lightly as your mouth finally is able to do something other than hang open.

Eyes still closed, the sensation of his lips brushing against your inner thigh catches your attention. “Not…yet,” his low, gruff voice hits your ears from between your legs, accent heavy with his fatigue. Why did that sound like a promise?

Your mouth is already forming the question when it instantly dies on your tongue as you become aware of a firm grip from those strong hands spreading your legs open even further as his body slides off the edge of the mattress and onto the floor to sit on his knees with his face at optimal level with your pussy.

“Simon?” you ask hastily as you struggle up to your elbow to see those dark eyes peer up at you just over the mound of your sex.

The corner of his mouth is barely visible, but you can see it upturn. He may have come, but he is nowhere near finished yet. “Still fuckin’ hungry for ya,” he growls before descending down into the ecstasy of the space in between your thighs.

Simon just needs to buy time until he can get it up again…good thing his tongue is always ready to go. Sharp features are instantly soaked as he dives in without hesitation, the scent of your arousal instantly clinging to his cheeks and making his cock begin to twitch. His mouth is filled with a combination of both of your flavors as his tongue does what it does best: find your clit like a pleasure-seeking missile. He is ready to get completely lost in you all over again, this time with his first favorite activity and all you can do is hold on as he straps you to his face.

Let the feast on your pussy continue…it’s gonna be a long fucking while until he’s done with you.

Tagging: @llelannie @thicksexxualtension @cheolsblkwife @cum-tea-and-towels @sillylittlereader @mesyakee

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p0orbaby · 11 hours ago

Text

I’d Rather Go Blind Than Let You Down

summary: the baby is here, that should calm leah down, right? right?

warnings: hospital setting

a/n: someone asked for some more panicky leah so here it is. first part here but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to

word count: 1.3k

It’s a boy. A boy. Your boy. You can hardly wrap your head around it, the reality of him. He’s only been in the world for forty minutes, and already it feels like he’s upended every law of physics. Six pounds and change, but impossibly heavy in the way he roots you to the earth, demanding you stay present, stay still, stay here. His hair is a downy mess of dark brown fluff, sticking up in little uneven tufts that remind you of how Leah’s fringe used to look after her under-12s matches: matted and wild, all effort and energy. His hands—God, his hands—are the size of fifty-pence pieces, delicate and wrinkled, each finger curled tightly into its own little fist. He’s perfect. Absolutely, inexplicably perfect. And you’re completely terrified.

The hospital room smells like cheap soap and distant disinfectant, undercut by the faint, sticky sweetness of some long-spilled juice no one bothered to properly clean. It’s a symphony of beige: beige walls, beige curtains, beige linoleum. Even the bed looks beige, although it’s probably just worn white, like an old t-shirt washed too many times. Somewhere in the hallway, someone’s shoes squeak with rhythmic persistence, and you vaguely wonder if they’re pacing, as you had earlier, wearing an accidental track into the polished floor.

Leah is sitting in the uncomfortable armchair by the bed, which is upholstered in that scratchy material designed to withstand decades of spills and bad decisions. Her elbows rest on her knees, her fingers steepled against her lips in a half-prayer, half-facepalm, as if she’s mid-negotiation with some higher power. She hasn’t spoken much since the baby was born. Not because she doesn’t want to, you think, but because the enormity of it all has rendered her mute. She looks pale, unsteady, as if someone has shaken her up like a bottle of fizzy water and forgotten to twist the cap back on properly.

The baby makes a soft, snuffling noise against your chest, pulling her attention like a magnet. Her gaze darts to him and then flicks away just as quickly, as if looking directly at him for too long might somehow blind her. She hasn’t held him yet. She hasn’t even really touched him, save for one trembling fingertip brushed against his impossibly tiny foot when the midwife first handed him to you. It wasn’t avoidance, not exactly. More like reverence. Or fear. Maybe both.

You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t feel real, like your body’s moving on autopilot while your brain drifts somewhere between sleep and shock. Your limbs are heavy, molten, but there’s also an odd lightness to you, a weightless, dizzying awe at what you’ve just done. You gave birth. You. You. Somehow, you survived it—hours of pain, pushing, panting, the raw animalistic chaos of it—and now you’re here, holding this impossibly small, impossibly fragile life in your arms. You’re not sure how you’re even still upright, let alone conscious.

“Do you want to hold him?” you ask, your voice soft, careful, as if you’re coaxing a wild animal out of the brush.

Leah’s head snaps up, her eyes wide and glassy, like a deer caught in headlights. “Hold him?” she echoes, her voice shaky and high-pitched. “Me?

“Yes, you. Who else?”

She blinks, her hands flexing and unflexing against her knees like they’re warming up for a solo on Britain’s Got Talent. “I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea”

“Leah, he’s your son”

“I know,” she says quickly, her voice climbing into that higher, defensive register that comes out when she’s trying to convince herself more than you. “I know he’s my son. But he’s just so… small. And… fragile. What if I—”

“You’re not going to drop him”

“I might!” she says, alarmed by her own hypothetical. “I might drop him. Or…or hold him wrong. What if I hold him wrong and, like, dislocate something? Babies are delicate! Like…like soufflés”

You blink at her. “Did you just compare our child to a soufflé?”

She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, I’m not exactly… maternal, am I? I’m not one of those people who looks at a baby and just… knows what to do. I’m more of a… ‘panic and Google it’ kind of person”

“That’s fine,” you say, adjusting the baby slightly in your arms as he makes a soft, snuffling noise. “Most parents are ‘panic and Google it’ people. It’s basically the default”

Leah doesn’t look convinced. She’s rubbing her hands together now, the way she does before a big match, but this isn’t a match. There’s no referee, no whistle, no rules, no second leg if she screws this up. Her gaze darts back to the baby, then to you, then back to the baby, like she’s trying to memorise the mechanics of holding him without actually doing it.

“What if I’m terrible at this?” she blurts out suddenly, the words spilling out of her in a rush. “What if I’m a terrible mum and he grows up hating me and we end up one of those families where no one talks and we all just sit around at Christmas in complete silence, eating dry turkey and resenting each other?”

You stare at her. “That’s… a very specific fear”

She shrugs, her leg bouncing up and down anxiously. “I’ve seen it happen”

“Leah, you’re not going to be a terrible mum”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you. And you love him. That’s pretty much the most important part”

She frowns, her brow furrowed like she’s still not quite buying it. “Love’s not enough. Love doesn’t teach you how to… to… change nappies or… or know what all the different cries mean”

“Love doesn’t teach you that,” you agree, “but practice does. And you’ll get there. We both will”

Leah’s eyes flick back to the baby, who has now fallen into a soft, twitchy sleep against your chest. Her expression softens slightly, but the fear is still there, a tightness around her mouth, a tension in her shoulders.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” she asks quietly.

You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “He’s a newborn, Leah. His likes and dislikes are limited to ‘milk’ and ‘not-milk.’ He’s not going to sit there judging your personality”

She doesn’t laugh. If anything, she looks even more stricken, like she’s just realised she might have to win over this tiny person who doesn’t even have fully developed motor skills yet.

You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Leah, listen to me. You’re not going to drop him. You’re not going to dislocate anything. And you’re definitely not going to ruin Christmas twenty years from now. You’re going to be great. I promise”

She hesitates, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “What if I mess up?”

“You will,” you say simply. “We both will. That’s part of it. But messing up doesn’t mean failing. It just means you’re trying”

For a moment, she just looks at you, her eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, absolution, a manual for parenthood that doesn’t exist. Then, slowly, she nods. It’s not a confident nod, not by any stretch, but it’s a start.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll try.”

You smile, holding out the baby toward her. “Then take him”

She hesitates for one last second before leaning forward, her hands trembling slightly as she takes the baby from you. She holds him like he’s made of glass, her arms stiff and awkward, but she’s holding him. She’s doing it.

And then the baby lets out a tiny, contented sigh, and Leah freezes, staring down at him like she’s just witnessed a miracle.

“He…he’s so… little,” she whispers, her voice filled with something like awe. “And warm. Why’s he so warm?”

“Because he’s a baby, not a lizard”

Leah lets out a soft, breathless laugh, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. For the first time all night, she looks calm. Not completely, but enough. Enough to believe, maybe just for a moment, that she can do this.

That you can do this. Together.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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tyquu · 8 months ago

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Ah I remember my question now!! Since Ezra is a growing boy, how does that impact his prosthetic use? I'm assuming they can't just go get him refitted like normal... do they help him resize? Do they build new parts? Or help him find some?

Hiii!! :D) So I doodled out my thoughts as I pondered this question but my handwriting is ass so… I’m also gonna write a little summary too!

Ezra's first Prosthetic was given to him by the same people who performed the amputation on his leg in the first place. Some concerned Lothali citizens who couldn't bare to watch him hop around on his severely infected leg any longer. 12 year old Ezra was pretty pissed about it though (understandably). It didn't help that his first prosthetic was old as balls and awful to walk on.

Thankfully, using bits n bobs he'd collected out on the streets, Ezra was able to tighten the loose hinges at the joints and modify the top to fit better. Alas, he ended up loosing this leg after bopping Kallus over the head with it pretty early on into joining the spectres.

Hera set him up with a pair of crutches and then devoted herself to finding him a replacement. She was determined to find something that was better than his last prosthetic and thought she'd struck gold when she figured out Vizago had one sitting in storage. She haggled hard but eventually managed to pocket the rarity, and delivered it back to Ezra. Sabine helped modify it fit to properly, and to Ezra's delight he discovered that the hinges on this leg were motion activated, and could pack an even better punch (or kick) than his previous one.

Ezra hadn't really manage to curb his habit of using his leg as a weapon on occasion, and during such an incident ended up losing leg 2 (much to Hera's despair). Thankfully, Sabine had helped Ezra do enough maintenance on his last two legs that she was confident she could fix up some similar prototypes using her engineering skills. The spectres all contributed to a scrap box that would be used to build replacement legs whenever Ezra ended up losing or outgrowing one. All of them were very dedicated to scouting out parts for him and happy to help with maintenance.

At some point the rebellion had gotten large enough to start having a more organised healthcare system, and Ezra was offered a spot on the surgery waitlist for cybernetics. Ezra was initially hesitant, however, post the incident on Malachor he eventually agreed.

The cybernetic, although not the most advanced for it's time, is connected to his nerves giving him full mobility over the prosthetic. However, it came with it's own new quirks that took some getting used to. Detaching and Reattaching the cybernetic takes between 2-5 minutes to do, and often requires tools to help, rendering it no longer an option as a spontaneous mid battle weapon. As a result there was no longer need for him to cut holes in the left leg of his trousers either.

Ezra doesn't sleep with the cybernetic (same as one wouldn't with a prosthetic) cause it would be hella uncomfortable. On lazy days, he often goes without it, opting to use crutches around base instead. The cybernetic is waterproof, however, in both snow and sand it can sometimes become clogged and stiff, and may need extra maintenance after the mission is complete. The ghost crew is always willing to help pitch in with their engineering expertise (mainly Hera, Sabine and Chopper) or spare part gathering.

Anywho,,, yeah. I hope that sort of answers that question?? I'm not 100% familiar with how prosthetics and cybernetics work in the Star Wars universe so forgive me if some of this info doesn't check out. ( also if u see a spelling mistake,,, no u don't)

#star wars #ezra bridger #star wars rebels #sw rebels #hera syndulla #sabine wren #amputee ezra bridger #cybernetics #ty tidbit #asks #swr art #ghost crew #star wars fanart

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transformers-spike · 1 day ago

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"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more.

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

#transformers x reader #transformers x human #transformers prime #optimus prime #tfp optimus #tfp arcee #tfp bulkhead #tfp bumblebee #tfp optimus x reader #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp arcee x reader #tfp bulkhead x reader #tfp bumblebee x reader #omegaverse???#damn the reader gets all that spike #tfp wheeljack x reader #valveplug

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darqx · 2 months ago

Text

HEEEY MACARENA (ALRIGHT!)

Here's some long overdue BP and HH asks :) I tend to combine the two since there's not as many as the RADs, so this starts with BP and then moves into HH/Gen qs.

MUAH ~ (I actually doodled this some time last year for fun and whimsy, based on those long mouth kiss meme pics XD)

A very quick overview of these types!

Vescordem: Maneaters/cannibals, excessively tall and strong.

Aleores: Minor dealmakers (goods and services). Jaw can unhinge and has venomous bite.

Sollicio: Major dealmakers - soul stealing ability. Often very good looking, has ichor powers.

Voxter: Ability to project 'thoughts' into someone else's mind - you ever have an intrusive thought? Same concept. All have a unique mark across the top part of their face.

Caumacies: Maneaters/cannibals, very strong. Has a third eye which sees only in heat vision - rarely opened simultaneously with normal eyes.

Hmm M or MA15 i think 🤔

You know, i actually have an idea for a game that has nothing to do with anything I'm currently doing XD One day i'll actually have time to make it, maybe. But anyway currently my actual project is i'm planning on making a comic \o/

I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE that i have thumbnailed like 70 pages of this bloody thing and i'm still only in the first quarter of the planned chapters lol OTL Once i finish thumbing the chapter I'm on I plan to go back and render the pages properly before starting to post them :D

...which should hopefully give me a buffer as i repeat the process for the next chapters |D

You know, the concept of my characs being comfort characs for someone will never get old for me. It just tickles me pink ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ This answer will have two levels to it.

It's fine to RP or ask blog with Rire - he's one of my more "known" characs thanks to BTD so as long as credit is given (and it's made clear I'm not running the blog so it's not canon) then it's cool.

I'd prefer if no ask/RP blogs are created for any of my other BP or HH characs, as they are not as known yet. This may be revisited once i actually get the BP comic out but for now it's a no, sorry! (Though, if you are RPing in like...a private Discord with other friends who know who the characs are then I'm a bit more lenient with that.)

The reason for the BP/HH level is that ages ago when I had started establishing my own characs more, I randomly happened to find a forum where someone was RPing as Izm and .D but no one else knew who the characs were and so they clearly thought the RPer was the original artist and creator. Said RPer was not dissuading anyone of that notion. That has stuck with me for forever because at the time i never anticipated that someone would...actually try and do that with an OC. Like, bro srsly?!

One pet peeve for everyone:

.D: Willfully stupid people

Izm: .D smoking. He could care less if anyone else smokes but .D is not allowed on his watch

Marcus: Having decisions made for him without his input

Zeke: "How's the weather up there?"

Wei Ren: When people think he can't understand English cos he has an accent and so they deliberately speak slower and louder

Geez Caleb why are you damn RUDE

Here's one i prepared earlier! 😌

I'm not sure why you included Marcus as a demon, he's a human lol.

HH/More Gen

There are clubs which are created by students but need approval from the adults to exist.

HH is one of the better boarding schools which generally turn out successful alumni. The "obvious problems" we see are not actually obvious lol.

He doesn't need such manipulations.

Thanks! I hope you are inspired to go forth and create stuff! :D

One of the only perks of being a prefect at HH, really :d

Absolutely not lol

↓

4. These types of qs are always amusing to me only because you guys expect me to know but i absolutely do not XDD. Do normal people actually have a fave animal?? I dont even have a fave animal!! Anyway offshoot aside sorry that i can't even randomly assign anything, but if you are interested here is what they might be AS animals lol.

They actually don't have names because they were randomly designed NPCs i drew as like, placeholders |D;

Not including Rire or Nurse Isla:

.D is asexual, Izm is bisexual, and everyone else is straight probably. Caleb and Desmond are violently straight (as in Des is like very 90s stoner bro adamantly vocal about being straight and Caleb will actually try and break your neck for insinuating anything).

I have some female characs but I dont draw them that often as they are more side characs in BP and HH. The ones ive's drawn at least once are Isla (who looks like this, also doodled above), Tish (Des's sister) and Kenzie and Kelly (Zeke's sisters).

Every once in a blue moon i get an ask saying this but whenever i go to check nothing is wrong, so...nothing is wrong they do work |D; As the age old tech saying goes have you tried turning it off and on again? :d

Aren't those kind of things supposed to be...based on yourself??

#battle priest #hedonehigh #art #doodle #answer dump #answer #reply #long post #sz

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ochiody · 21 days ago

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First of all i can't believe you're 16?? That's fucking insane, you're so talented.Second, would you ever consider making some sort of coloring tutorial?

oh my goodness thank you,, that means a lot hahah. insert chiikawa reaction image here i dont have them on my computer

secondly, sure! my process involves a lot of bullshitting and kinda intuition based stuff so idk how to explain it that well but i will try.

ok here is how i would render a colored ball + grayscale ver. i dont use value ? or darkness to create shading as much as color contrast. ex yellow is lighter than green which is lighter than blue/purple. this is shown in grayscale but since im using the colors to indicate value it shows up better in color (idk how to say it)

this is personal preference but i don’t use color palettes at all, because every setting will have a different kind of lighting or mood that i need to adjust for. so why even bother? i think im just really used to picking things out by eye, buti would not recommend this because stuff can get inconsistent really quick

i dont use blend modes for shadows anymore, but heres an example with multiply for how i do shading (left)

in my art i dont like the look of straight up darkening shades so i always go for a darker, more saturated shadow. i love bright colors so im always pushing for more saturation. enhancing existing color in a 'properly shaded' areas is a fun way to do this

for example in this wing, i make the shadows bright ass blue instead of grayish blue/tan. this is because i made the faint light source from the left yellowish, so the shadow will be blue in comparison. i just amped that way up lol

you can also see it in the yellow on the inside of the wing. the lighting is yellow, so i took the faint bits of yellow that wouldve been present if i shaded it normally and just made it way more saturated

hope this helps, feel free to ask questions because idk what im doing half the time. usually its just 'oh this would look cool lets keep it'

#ochi asks #ochi orates #my artwork #art tips #artists on tumblr

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urprettylittlething · 1 year ago

Text

Breeding Experiment

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x CursedKitty! Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Another part of CursedKitty universe! After a few very late nights and some glasses of wine I present to you a NSFW oneshot drabble thing where they fuck and want to breed Kitty :) I warn you this is my first time trying to seriously write some smut let alone a breeding kink so i apologise profusely in advance if this sucks, do let me know how it is <3 (and thank you to the lovely person to suggest breeding link <3) If you want to send in your own ideas for Kitty, my inbox is open! <3

summary - Gojo and Geto found out they can fuck you, can they breed you?

warnings - Dubcon/Noncon-ish? Kitty is having a pretty good time but they didnt ask for consent and she doesn’t really understand, female anatomy, they call Reader 'Kitty' and 'Experiment' a few times, cum, eating Kitty out, smut, breeding kink, vague Yandere vibes, they’re a little mean, (let me know if i need to add more please)

genre - Oneshot Drabble thing

wc - 1.3K

Edit - spelling and grammar fixed 09/10/23

Gojo was leaning back against his headboard, a few pillows stuffed underneath him. His legs were spread in front of him, knees bent so he could dig his feet into the mattress below him. Kitty was in his lap, her back resting against his hard chest. Her little tail was wound tight around her waist to keep it from getting crushed between the two of them.

The only thing she was wearing was a long and clean shirt, given to her by Satoru. She wasn’t wearing any underwear as him and Suguru deemed it unnecessary. She was for their eyes only so it didn't matter too much to them, and Kitty didn't seem to mind either. She looked similar to how the two of them first found her, but now she was cleaned, properly scrubbed and groomed to their satisfaction.

Her Kitty ears were pressed flat against her hair as she pressed against Gojo. Each leg of hers had been hoisted up and over Gojos, keeping them hooked back and her pussy exposed.

‘She’s such a dumb little thing.’ Gojo thought to himself. There she was, squirming against him, trying to close her legs. Not even thinking of just lifting her legs up so she could close them. No matter, it made his job so much easier of keeping her upper half restrained.

He had wrapped his hands around her wrists and kept them tucked against her own chest. ‘And what a tease too.’ All of Kittys squirming had riled him up, getting him hot and bothered the longer she unintentionally grinded her ass against his hard cock.

Suguru on the other hand had been between her legs for just over twenty minutes now. Eating her out like it was his last meal while she mewled, gasped and cried against Gojo.

If Gojo was being completely honest, he didn't expect him and Suguru to take it this far. But they couldn't help their naturally curious nature.

Especially after the first bath they had been forced to give her. The both of them had quickly figured out just how little she knew, or understood for that matter. Rendering her useless to do most things by herself when she didn't understand them.

Anyway, it was only natural for their eyes to wander, allowing themselves to take in the full image of her nude self.

It shocked them a little to see just how much she resembled a human girl. She was equipped with full anatomy (atleast to their eyes on the outside), except the ears and tail of course. So it was only natural, the curious human nature of them, to think about whether… well… whether she worked or not.

It had been around two weeks since then and in Gojos opinion he would say the two of them had held out pretty well, given his inability to be patient most times. But alas, here they were now.

Suguru groaned from where he was slurping Kitty’s juices from between her legs. “From all the curses I’ve had to swallow, she has to be the sweetest.”

Gojo gave a huff in response, a tad salty that he didn't get to go first, but it's whatever. The view he had been blessed with almost made up for it anyway.

And of course poor Kitty seemed overwhelmed already, her chest heaving, body hot and sweaty, her ears flattened and twitching against her head and eyes half lidded. Her pouty mouth open, gasping and mewling incoherent noises at the pleasure Sugurus tongue was forcing her to experience for the first time.

Every flick against the sensitive little nub causes her hips to jerk, mewling even louder. Every wiggle of his tongue inside her caused her to squirm even harder against Gojo as she cried out.

“Poor thing,” Gojo murmurs, “I doubt she even understands what we're doing to her. Atleast shes enjoying it.”

Suguru finally pulls his face away from her pussy, rising up to kneel on his legs from between hers. His mouth and chin were covered in Kittys juices. He starts pulling off his clothing, using his shirt to wipe around his mouth.

As he was pulling off his last article of clothing, Kitty was starting to squirm again. Making little noises and whines that neither of the two really understood, not quite understanding why the stimulation had all of a sudden stopped.

They had quickly figured out that she couldn't communicate with them in any language. Tugging at their shirts and whining at them to indicate she needed something. Although they had learned that she could understand them, to a certain extent.

Gojo hushed her and leaned down to press gentle kisses against her exposed neck. “Shh.. Calm down Kitty. Suguru is going to take real good care of you now.” She seemed to calm a little at that.

Suguru leaned forward, now on his knees between them. With Kittys forcibly spread legs, courtesy of Gojo, on either side of him it allowed him to place his hands on the flesh of her thighs. The tip of his throbbing cock now poking and teasing at her little hole.

“Should be nice and easy, Kitty. Nice and wet, such a good girl for us, huh?” Suguru said, beginning to push his way into her tight hole, loosened up a little from his tongue. Kitty’s walls fluttered and pulsed around him while he bowed his head and groaned.

“God, for a curse this pussy is tight. Warm too.” He muttered as he inched himself further into her heat.

“Bet she could take both of us. Such a dirty little kitty we have on our hands, enjoying Sugurus cock so much, aren't you?” Gojo teased as she mewled and moaned and pawed at them. Her head was tilted back and resting against his shoulder, a small dribble of drool escaping down the side of her mouth. He couldn't blame her, after all, she had bigger priorities to worry about right now.

“Could fill this pussy up so well. Breed her like the bitch she is.” Suguru groaned, furrowing his brows as he began pumping in and out of her tight walls.

“You think we could breed her?” Gojo perked up a little in interest. The thought was certainly entertaining given the throbbing in his pants.

“If we stuff her full enough, probably.” He grunted in response. Beginning to thrust his hips into Kittys even harder. Wet, slapping sounds filled the room they were in, almost louder than the little curse situated in Gojos arms.

She began to pant and whine, droplets of tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she squinted, her tongue poking out from between her lips. They both could take a good guess as to what was about to happen.

Suguru began to fuck into her even harder while Gojo reached down with one hand, the other keeping a hold of her wrists, to flick and rub and pinch at her little clit poking out from all the pleasure.

Kitty screeched and cried as her ears trembled and her tail shuddered from where it was wrapped tightly around her. Her orgasm overwhelmed her, causing her pussy to tighten and gush with even more juices. Making the sounds from between them sound even wetter.

Suguru threw his head back, groaning as he emptied his load deep inside her as Gojo leaned down to whisper into her ear.

“We're going to breed you, you’d want that right? Have your tummy round and full with our child, all for you to look after. Stuffed full with our cum, our perfect little experiment, huh?” His fingers are still rubbing and circling the throbbing nub, making her cry and tremble and squirt more of her juices.

He only stopped when Suguru had recovered and began pulling himself out of Kitty’s fluttering walls. Both pausing to stare at the way his cum oozed out from her little pussy.

Kitty’s eyes fluttered while her ears relaxed against her hair, closing her eyes in bliss and seemingly exhausted.

Suguru and Gojo looked up at each other after a moment of silence between them and what had just occurred before he spoke up.

“Come on Kitty, my turn.”

#I Hope you enjoy my attempt at smut </3 #geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #CursedKitty #gojo smut #geto smut

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tortillamastersblog · 7 months ago

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➶A big misunderstanding - Part 2 | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: minor injuries

Summary: Following your realization, you go to find Kate to talk about your feelings…

Part 1

________________________________________________

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” I say, “Please notify me as soon as Clint and Kate return from their mission.”

The A.I. acknowledges my request and I get to work at my desk, attempting to shrink the ever growing stack of mission reports.

The hours tick by without my notice and the next thing I know, I’m slumped over the desk, my cheek pressing into the keyboard of my laptop.

I snap up and rub my sore cheek, groaning at the sight of the document on my laptop. It’s now filled with random letters and symbols and I know it’ll take ages to delete all the gibberish.

“Y/N?”

I yelp at F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s disembodied voice, realizing that it was the A.I. that woke me from my semi-comfortable sleep.

“Yes?” I ask, my voice gruff from not using it.

“Mr. Barton and Ms. Bishop have returned.”

I check my watch and get to my feet. It’s four in the morning, three days after they left, so the mission must have taken longer than anticipated.

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” I say, leaving my room in search of Kate. I know now might not be the best time to bring up my feelings, but if I don’t do it as soon as possible, I think I might actually explode.

The reports were a good distraction over the past couple days after my talk with Wanda, but now that Kate’s back I need to go find her.

I search the kitchen first, figuring she might be hungry after missing dinner but she’s not there.

Next I go to the locker rooms, but she isn’t there either, so she must already be in her room.

I walk there with trembling hands, not exactly sure how I’m going to initiate the conversation. Do I ask her about her feelings? Do I just straight up tell her about mine? Should I ask about the mission first?

When I get to her door, I notice it’s slightly ajar, allowing me a glimpse inside. She’s standing in front of the full length mirror mounted to the wall opposite her bed.

She’s dressed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie and her hair is still damp from the shower she must have taken.

“Come onnn!” she grumbles, fumbling with something sticking to her finger.

I narrow my eyes and carefully push the door open to get a better look; it a butterfly closure strip.

Whenever she tries to unstick it from one of her fingers, it immediately sticks to another and with each passing second her frustration grows.

Her shoulders are tense and her nostrils are flared, but I don’t make my presence known until the strip folds in on itself, rendering it useless.

“Hey,” I say quietly, knocking on the doorframe.

Kate’s head snaps up and her eyes widen in surprise. “Y-Y/N… What are you doing? Why are you still up?”

All of my earlier worries fly out the window when I notice the cut on her temple and I move forward without thinking.

“Here, let me,” I say, grabbing a new butterfly strip from the opened package.

Kate watches, dumbfounded, and gulps when I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, away from the cut. It’s not particularly deep, but it will scar if it’s not taken care of properly.

“Didn’t anyone show you how to do this?” I ask with no hint of annoyance in my voice, getting to work on cleaning the wound with a sterile wipe which happened to lay beneath the butterfly strips on the dresser next to the mirror.

“Clint did… once,” Kate admits, looking up at me through her eyelashes while I work. I’m a little taller than her, which is something I only now realized because we’ve never actually stood this close to each other before. “But I forgot and I’ve been embarrassed to ask for help ever since.”

A wave of sympathy rushes over me and I pause for a moment to look her in the eyes and smile reassuringly. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s better to ask for help than to suffer in silence,” I say without realizing how deep that sounded until it’s already too late.

Kate snorts softly and lets me continue working. It’s oddly intimate, however I can’t say I mind. It makes me feel weirdly fuzzy, knowing I can help her and that she’s, for once, not trying to run away from me.

Every once in a while she winces while I clean her cut and some smaller scrapes, but she doesn’t tell me to stop, so I keep going until everything’s been cleaned and the cut has been successfully closed.

“There you go,” I mumbled, tilting her chin to the side to get a better look at my work. “Much better.”

My eyes drift over her injuries and I’m quite satisfied with my work until I get distracted by her eyes. Those damn blue, captivating eyes.

She’s watching me intently and when I don’t make a move to create more space between us, she lets out a shaky breath.

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” she whispers, and I’m so lost in her that it takes a second for my brain to process what she just said.

“What question?” I ask, distracted by the way her eyes dart from my eyes to my lips and back.

“Why are you still up?” She breathes into the small space that is left between us.

“I—“

I waited for days for you to come home so I can ask you on a date? No…

I stayed up because I can’t stop thinking about you and just had to tell you how I feel? No!

I had to tell you I love you? No! What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N?! It’s way too early for that!

I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence when I’m suddenly pulled down by a hand grabbing the back of my neck, a pair of soft lips landing on my own.

I gasp in surprise but quickly sink into the feeling, my hands finding their way to Kate’s hips.

The kiss is short because Kate pulls back a second later to tease. “You think too much.”

I laugh in her face and brush my nose against hers. “You’re one to talk, Ms. smacks-me-in-the-face-with-a-spatula, Ms. knocks-over-a-bunch-of-bows-at-the-sight-of-my-abs, Ms—“

Kate groans and clamps her free hand over my mouth. “Alright, alright! You’ve made your point.”

I smirk and lick her hand on a whim, causing her to shriek and wipe her palm on my shoulder. “Ew! Don’t do that!”

“What do you mean, ew?! You were just kissing me!” I exclaim in mock offense, pulling her closer by her hips.

Kate huffs and tries to act annoyed, but grins eventually when she counter-argues. “That’s different!”

I wiggle my eyebrows playfully and nose forward so my lips are brushing over hers. “Is that so?”

Kate’s eyes flutter shut and her grip on the back of my neck tightens when she hums an affirmative. Then her lips are back on mine, but this time, the kiss deepens and before long we’re stumbling across the room until we fall onto her bed.

It’s anything but elegant and in the end her teeth clash against mine and we have to break apart to laugh.

“Sorry,” she chuckles, wiggling around on top of me.

I just smile at her and cup her cheek with one hand, the other still resting on her hip. “It’s okay.”

We stay like that for several moments, watching each other as our heart rates return back to normal. It’s peaceful and quiet, and one of the best moments of my life.

That is until a badly suppressed yawn overcomes Kate, reminding me of how late it is.

“You should get some rest.” I whisper, guiding her off me so I can get up and drape the comforter over her. “You must be exhausted.”

She doesn’t protest, so I quickly tuck her in and turn off the lights until the only source of light that is left is the tiny nightlight in the corner of the room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I say, bending down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Kate’s nods and cups my cheeks, keeping me close so she can peck my lips softly. “Before you go…” she says, her thumb tracing over my bottom lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Her eyes search mine in the dim light before she whispers, “Will you go on a date with me?”

I laugh quietly and turn my head to kiss the inside of her wrist. “I’d love to.”

“Good…” She blinks tiredly, obviously on the brink of falling asleep.

I take her hands off my face and squeeze them carefully. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

I stay with her until I’m sure she’s drifted off before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind me as quietly as possible.

A smile creeps its way onto my face as I tiptoe back to my own room, and it stays there all the way until I fall asleep in my own bed.

________________________________________________

I hope this does the first part justice…

#kate x reader #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #the avengers #fluff #imagine #oneshot #marvel #mcu

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tkthrilla-writes · 1 year ago

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What was in that drink?

An Alastor x reader fic. Slight warning of possessiveness might be needed but only for that one scene

His smile was as strained as it could ever be as he watched and felt his darling host get ready. Checking themselves out in the full-length mirror in the corridor, making sure that the nice and neat clothes that they have not worn in a very long time. Patting down the sides that looked like they are creasing, making sure that they are presentable for the night.

“You know my dear,” Alastor’s shadow parted from his host and appeared in the mirror as if he was an extension of the human, “you could just stay here with me,” he tried to act sly by getting in his host’s face, as if trying to seduce them into staying with them.

“Oh come on Al, it’s my turn to be switched out tonight, and we barely go out as is,” the human now started to fixate on their hair, trying to make sure that it was properly parted and styled. “Besides, you know this is a work thing that I can’t exactly get out of,” they started, “and didn’t you say you had business at the hotel and that is why I got today to be switched out.”

Since he was an almighty demon with almighty powers and abnormalities, his smile became more strained, literally stretching ear to ear while his brows gave away the scowl that he would convey had he been there in person. But alas he was bound to the shadows. And he couldn’t show his darling host his blatant disagreement without saying anything so she could spend more time with him.

“Ok, I am done,” she said, this brought him down to Earth and brought him back to reality, “and I am heading off,” she ended with a brilliant smile on her face, clearly looking forward to the evening.

“Now now my dearest,” he motioned as she started to walk to the door, only stopping by the kitchen counter to wear the nice shoes that are practically new despite owning them for a good year or so, before making a grab for the keys and moving closer to the door, “why not have a ball here with me instead of those retched and filthy people you work with.” He tried to gesture as best as he could through his parted shadow, but all he looked like was a wispy black smog that was tightly bound together to make his outer shape.

“Hey come on, it’s not like I am going to be gone that long anyways, beside you got stuff at the hotel you said you needed to do aaaaand,” she prolonged it as if it was going to be the next main and great point, “you get to have a break from me and have time to yourself! I know how much you hate being cooped up for so long.” Ending with a gentle smile that shocked Alastor, making him take his hand back at very slight shock and rendering him speechless. “Anyways, I’m off! Good luck at the hotel and see you later!” she smiled, and that was that, she was out the door, only a single light on for his sake otherwise the apartment would’ve been completely dark.

“I don’t want a break from you,” if he were human, he could’ve sworn he sounded heartbroken, but instead they came out as plain words with a lot of emotion trying to be hidden as the main meaning behind them. A good number of beats had passed with him standing by the door like a lost puppy waiting for his owner to return before he realised a good hour had passed. It was time for him to head back down to greet and terrorise the citizens of Hell.

But first… a quick side stop to a certain bar wouldn’t hurt one bit.

So dispersing back into the shadows, he started to travel half way across the city just to go to this one specific bar where his darling host is. Surely enough, there she was, Alastor could see her from the under the streetlight across the bar. She was laughing, looking like she was having a good time. Slimy Dave on the other hand looked like he was trying to pull some moves on her, but blissfully ignorant she just kept on talking with Channel. She looked so adorable, while she still put a lot of effort in dressing up, she was still decent compared to her female coworkers who tried their hardest to wear revealing clothes.

“Someone is looking to be sinful tonight?” Alastor thought to himself watching everyone interact with you. “Should be sinful with me instead,” he continued, thinking of all the people they could be out killing together. All the fun and chaos they could bring together.

All these thoughts started to leave a sour taste in his mouth the long he watched you laugh and interact with colleagues. Having enough, and in a very bad mood, he slammed his microphone on the ground, and in a split second he was now staring at the walls of his room at the hotel. He sneered at them as if they had done something wrong to him. The smile he held being gracefully fake, as he had enough on being in his room, and barged out the door. Making his way down the stairs were everybody was and greeting them with a boisterous “Hello Everyone!”

The three hours later the work was done, denizens of hell coming and going, the princess of Hell skipping around all happy at her success, the moth following close behind her. Meanwhile the cat stood behind the bar, as was his post to clean the glasses and make the drinks, all while being hovered by the flirtatious spider. Alastor spent a good second staring at them before deciding to fuck it, and walk over to them. She is out at the moment so he will be too.

“Your largest drink of your heaviest, my good Husker!” he demanded, pulling out a chair to seat himself on.

“Since when ya sit with us antlers! Not that I’m complaining ofcourse,” Angel said flirtatiously, arms and hands spread out as he leaned onto Alastor’s side.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Alastor replied, using the head of his microphone to push Angel’s face away, “I am merely here to enjoy a drink.”

“Kid does have a point,” Husker glared while pouring the radio demon his drink and sliding it right into the demon’s hand, “You don’t normally drink here. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well you see, it certainly has been a long week,” Alastor exclaimed, beating about the bush because why would he do the healthy thing and open up as to why he is upset. Only person he would do that to is not around and out on their own.

Self-absorbed into his rant, he failed to realise Angel’s bored expression leaning into Husker and ask the classic question, “What ya give ‘im?”

Husker just leaned while cleaning his next glass, “Water with 2 shots of absinthe,” Angeldust had to visibly stop himself from spit-taking his drink all over Husker before an evil grin spread across his face, one that he didn’t bother to hide as he watched Alastor take sip after sip between rants. “Give ‘im a couple more minutes, he’ll start singing like a canary,” Husker continued eyeing the poor demon that is has now fallen victim to his bartending skills.

Surely enough, the winged cat was right, Alastor had started to sway and slur at his words, as he finally arrived in ranting on about his week that has gotten him upset, “And then she said yes!”

“No!” Angel and Husker yelled out in sync, now invested in the drama that is between Alastor’s host and Alastor himself.

“Yes!” Alastor swayed, shifting his weight onto the bar, “can you actually believe that she said yes to going out with that blasted Dave and those filthy people she works with!”

“This ‘Dave’ sure sounds like a sleazeball!” Angel jumped in absolutely loving the drama of Alastor’s life.

“The sleaziest!” Alastor yelled lifting his microphone up in the air so hard he threw himself off his seat, and scrambled to grab the bar to catch himself before he fell to the ground, “he cannot see one living being with legs without trying to seducing it!” Hands now outstretched, face planted down on the bar, heaving heavily from getting even more heated up and angry than he already was.

“Why would she go out with them?! She should’ve stayed with me,” he straightened himself out, now standing, hands still down on the bar, but his eyes started to turn into radio dials turning, his head started to twitch, static started to play in the background, “SHE LEAVING ME!” he yelled out, his hands clutched so quickly he scratch the bar, leaving behind claw marks, and now static filled the air.

“You know Al,” the static now cut, his eyes now back to normal and looking at Charlie who had overheard and walked in on the conversation, “maybe you should talk to her about this and how you feel about it,” she said now starting to stutter and feel nervous under the attention Alastor was giving her with his intensive gaze.

“Yeah,” Angel jumped in starting to light a cigarette, “don’t get your panties in a twist, the gal is allowed to have her own night on the town. Can’t she?” he side-eyed Alastor, depending on his answer he would have been judging, but thankfully he did agree.

“Yes she may, she is her own human being-“

“Then what is the problem!” Vaggie jumped in getting fed of his temper tantrum.

“The problem is-!” he was about to finally admit it, but he got interrupted by his microphone literally ringing like a regular phone. “Hello?” he turned around, speaking into the microphone to answer, acting fully sober despite the little sway that was very evident to everyone at the bar.

“Hey Al, how are you doing?” the star of the show replied back for everyone to hear. Angel sucked in and started to choke on his cigarette, Husker spit out his drink, and Charlie just to shake Vaggie out of sheer excitement, “Is that what she sounds like?” she exclaimed, so full of excitement that you could see the hearts in her eyes.

Alastor turned away even more as everybody started to crowd on his to try to hear what the two were going to say, “Quick hectic as per the usual my dear, although some rascals do not know how to mind their own business,” he nearly snarled, trying to give everyone a threatening look to leave him alone but obviously it went ignored.

“You think you’ll be home soon? Got some tea to spill,” she trailed off.

“And what other mess did you get yourself into you little fox,” Alastor spoke deeper into the microphone, walking away from the piling sinners and princess who trailed behind him, somehow Nifty had joined in on their fun on trying to overhear his conversation. Brilliant.

“Not me, more like Donna… with Dave,” Angel choked on air and started to laugh as soon as he heard that, “sounds like it’s going to be double D up in the office tomorrow…” Angel started to wheeze at the innuendo.

“Where are you?” Alastor started to sound desperate, trying to leave, the prying eyes of the hotel.

“I’m at home-“

“Goodnight everyone!” Alastor turned to announced, arms outstretched in the air, proceeded to slam his microphone to the ground, and in a burst of light he was back in the apartment watching his dear human pour a glass of water.

“Hey Al,” she said smiling ear to ear.

“Hello darling, you’re home early,” he commented shifting his shadowed weight to stand next to her by the counter.

“Yeah everyone started to get drunk and I figured since we have work tomorrow I might as well leave early, everyone is still at the bar probably getting wasted,” she explained, drinking her water and started to make her way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for bed. “By the way,” she started, ripping off her clothes and putting them in the laundry basket, “who or what was that on your end of the line?”

Alastor let out radio glitch sound effect at the sudden question, “I do not know what you are talking about my dear,” he lied.

“Mhm sure,” the human figured out quickly that it was a lie and probably one of the people he talked about that help run the hotel, “now come on and jump in, got some tea you might like me to spill and an early night calling!” she stretched her arms, popping her stiff joints as she walked down the corridor.

Eager for everything to return back to normal and for him to accompany his host to rest in bed, he eagerly fused back into her body. However, something immediately felt off for the both of them. She immediately rushed back to the bathroom and threw herself to the toilet, luckily it was open, and whatever was in her stomach was now being wretched up into the toilet.

“The fuck is happening?! That was a $15 fat ass burger!” she heaved and proceeded to vomit a second time.

“Maybe it was all the drinking you have been doing,” Alastor replied in a passive aggressive manner, mostly because he also was feeling its effects and definitely the thought of her getting drunk and drinking with those lowly being she worked with being absolutely irritating.

“That’s bull! I’ve been,” she paused the heave before continuing, “been chugging water the whole night!” she then coughed up. “Hell no this was you,” she accused after finally calming down.

“And why would accuse me of doing this to us?!” Alastor got agitated.

“Well we know what affects you affects me so spill it! What did you drink?” she heaved even more, both of them feeling a wave of nausea coming over.

“…I will need to ask Husker tomorrow…” Alastor said blankly.

“AAAAaaaaaaalllll,” she groaned, “guess we are going into work with a hangover,” she sighed, the both of them now feeling absolutely exhausted.

#alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #x reader #charlie #vaggie #angel dust #husker #nifty #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #demon possession trope #not enough of these #demon #seriously let me have my alastor x reader venom like possession fics #up to me to deliver #host au

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the-shrimp-that-fried-rice · 5 months ago

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Ok @adderalltheblue its jambalaya time. This is :

SHRIMP'S JAMBALAYA RECIPE

1. Start with the mise en place as usual.

Dice your trinity (onion, pepper, celery). Then skin and debone your chicken thighs, slice your sausage (i went for smoked chorizo since andouille is hard to find in the uk), and peel and devein your shrimp. For the chicken and shrimp, season them with old bay, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper.

2. Next you should sauté the sausage in a large pot. Don't use too much oil, as the fat in the sausage will render and you can use that. Plus it has more flavour.

3. Then take them out and place the chicken in and sear each side till it's got a nice brown colour to it.

4. Once that's done, the final protein you'll want to cook is the shrimp. Only cook it partially so that it doesn't go rubbery when it gets boiled later on

5. Now its time to move onto the veg. Start by putting in the celery first and sauté it for a few minutes before adding the rest, as celery tends to be a bit tougher than onion and pepper. Adding salt at this point will help the veg cook a bit faster too.

Once its sweated properly, you can add your minced garlic, tomato paste, paprika, and a bit of old bay. Sauté a bit longer, and then add a can of chopped tomatoes.

6. Next you're gonna want to add your washed rice in. I don't know exactly how much i used in cups but it looked like half a rice cooker pot. Then add about a litre and a bit of chicken stock

At this point you can add your proteins again, and they will cook through fully with the rice. The chicken becomes especially tender when it gets cooked like this. Season to taste with more cayenne, paprika, salt, garlic powder, and old bay, and allow it to come to a boil. Once at a boil, lower the heat and let it simmer till the broth has reduced and the rice is cooked.

Finally, once it's done it'll look like this. I like my jambalaya creole style so its a bit more saucy than cajun style. And thats my recipe for jambalaya :) i dont claim it to be authentic or anything but this is just how I've always made mine.

#shrimp posting #Shrimp's recipes #Cooking with shrimp #shrimp's recipes #from the shrimp :)#my recipes #jambalaya #Creole food #cooking advice #cooking

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saewokhrisz · 9 months ago

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have u ever talked anywhere about your coloring or composition processes? u are honestly one of my favorite artists and i would love to hear any insight on how you make pieces 💓

wahh thank you TTT !!! I did sorta give a very simplistic answer here but it was more of my simpler sketchy style so lemme redo that, ill try to be consise and make this understandable ?? its a bit hard cuz it honest to god depends on what Kind of piece im even drawing, cuz for some i go the whole length of doing lineart flats and all that, others i just just fuck around untill it looks right?

i do usually start with a rough sketch or colour draft, especially with more compley pieces this helps with figuring out the feel, honestly i should spend more time drafting properly, figuring out poses and such but im so lazy i just go w the first thing that looks good

then just lines over the colour draft, fixing lots of anatomy and proportion stuff, and depending on how i wanna do the colours ill either keep the colour layers or merge them together and have the edited colours as the base colour (this might not even make sense help)

see this piece at the time gave me an insane ammount of trouble with lighting and colours, so after trying to render i ended up merging everything together....which i dont USUALLY do but the rendering is pretty similar except usually i have colours be seperated by layer,

ANYWAYS sadly i dont have a process on how it got from flats to this specific render for this piece...but i still followed my initial drafts/plans with vibe and colours and just painted over it, its why i make it after all!

but honestly a lot of times its just very simple colours and just trying to mainting good contrast and values !!!! and THEN fucking around with colours and rextures, for other pieces i kinda just paint as i go? i have this timelapse of my justice piece that may be a bit more help!

it includes the initial colour draft, the cleanup/lining process, flats, rendering, and all that so its probs the most accurate timelapse of my morecomplex work processes, with stuff that doesnt include heavier backgrounds, which is a whole OTHER topic honestly

im sorry if i cant explain it more cohesively, i genuinely barely know what im doing most times and go by muscle memory and stuff i Know but cant. Explain? like i know how light and folds work since i observed and studied them but i cannot put it into words at all )--)0

my brushes also contribute a lot to how i render and colour, depending on what i use, you can find the swatches for them here !

#long post #asks #art advice

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jintaka-hane · 9 months ago

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Two Days

(Beckman x f!Reader)

Masterlist

Img source / source

Summary: You and Beckman have been navigating a long-distance relationship for a while. Now that he's docking at your port, you’ve got two precious days to reunite and reminisce about the day you first met — a dreadful evening when nothing went as planned. Word Count: 5735 Notes: This is my contribution to 'The Great Beckmaning'! It was a looooooot of fun to write, and I'm considering writing about what happened after the tavern brawl, hehe. My gift for the Beckman’s wives army! Warnings: Mild NSFW, father!beckman x mother!reader, established relationship, one sided enemies to lovers, shanks being silly, misunderstanding, longing, kissing, petting, domesticity, fluff, mentions of alcohol, guns, cigarettes, swearing, mention of pregnancy.

"You sure you can manage without me?" a familiar look of concern crossed the first mate's face.

"For the fifth time, Beck, YEEES!" bellowed the pirates of the Red Force in unison.

"I've left some instructions for—"

"Beck! We'll be fine, trust me!” Shanks said, avoiding the note he was handing and pushing him down off the ship.

“But… the hole in the starboard bow needs—”

“AYE!! SHOVE OFF, BECK!”

"A’right, a’right…. behave yourselves..." he looked at the captain, "especially you”.

"Enjoooooy! Don't worry about aaaanything… and give her my regards," Shanks added, clumsily winking.

And the second in command of the Red Force disembarked, unsure of what he would find upon his return.

It was a port he knew like the back of his hand, in a fishing village neither too small nor too large, populated by smiling and friendly folk.

He walked through a bustling square where locals sold their wares—a display of colorful fruits, fresh fish from the morning catch, and an eclectic array of handmaded items. In one corner, a quaint bakery beckoned with the tempting aroma of freshly baked pastries. He entered and bought the ones he thought you would like the most.

With the bag in hand, he continued down the street until he reached a modest yet charming house. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, the familiar creak of the door indicating that it was not locked. With a gentle push, it swung open.

He had warned you countless times about the importance of locking the door and securing your home, yet you never seemed to heed his advice. However, he wouldn't scold you this time. Not when it had been three long months since your last meeting, and he only had two precious days to enjoy your company.

"Y/n?" He called out to you, but there was no response.

His steps carried him first to the kitchen. He placed the bag of pastries he had purchased upon the counter, a surprise awaiting you. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed that the wooden frame of a window needed repair, and that the pantry door wasn't closing properly. He would attend to that later.

He then made his way to the living room where he found you. Your graceful form was reclined upon the couch, peacefully lost in slumber. The way your hair spilled over the cushions, your chest rising and falling in rhythmic breaths, and the flawless complexion of your face adorned with a faint smile in repose, rendered you truly breathtaking. A pang of longing gripped his chest, proof to the months he had spent yearning for you. But these two days together would surely mend any distance between you.

Beside you laid a beautiful baby girl, her eyes wide with innocence and curiosity as she gazed up at him with a smile.

"Here you’re, little one. I've missed you," he murmured, scooping her up into his arms and holding her close. With care, he raised her up to meet her gaze, marveling at the sight before him.

“So pretty... must have inherited your mother's genes, otherwise I wouldn't believe it with a father like me...".

The baby giggled at him, reaching out to touch the x-shaped scar on his face, but then her expression grew serious, her cheeks flushing red. Beckman chuckled as he noticed a peculiar odor beginning to permeate the room.

"Ok, ok, let's change ya," he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

He carried her to the bedroom, where he knew all the diapers and baby wipes were kept. With utmost care, he cradled the baby in one arm while using the other to retrieve the baby changer from your dressing table. Placing the baby, who giggled once more, in the changer, he gently removed her clothes and diaper. With ease, he cleaned her with a wipe, dried her tenderly with a soft towel, applied cream, and secured a clean diaper in place.

It was a curious sight to behold Benn Beckham, a rugged pirate of the seas known for his strength and fierceness, handling and caring for a delicate baby with such tenderness.

Once the baby was dressed, they made their way to the kitchen, disposed of the soiled diaper, and returned to the living room. Beckman settled into a rocking chair beside the couch, cradling the baby close. He hummed a sea shanty as a lullaby in his deep voice, stealing glances at you from time to time, careful not to disturb your slumber.

Farewell to the harbor, To my old hometown

Lets all sing out with a Don! As the ship sets sail

Waves of gold and silver dissolve to salty spray

As we all set sail to the ends of the sea…

Gradually, the baby's eyelids drooped until her eyes closed entirely. A smile graced Beckman's lips as he watched her drift off to sleep.

"Sleep tight, princess," he whispered tenderly.

Then, sinking back into the chair, he studied you thoughtfully. How was it that you had never left him all these years? You were a stunning, independent, and strong woman, and he couldn't help but wonder why you had remained by his side. In a town filled with men eager to win your affection, you had never once betrayed him or hinted at parting ways. Perhaps, he mused, this was love after all... And the fact that he returned to you every time he had the opportunity was his way to show you that he loved you back. And he always will.

As he admired your poised figure, memories of the day you had first crossed paths flooded his mind. What a chaotic mess it had been...

*** *** ***

It was shaping up to be a real wretched day. Shanks, in his usual state of inebriation, exhibited an unusual level of clumsiness, leaving him feeling like a caretaker tending to an unruly child. Whenever the captain sank into such a state, the crew inevitably followed suit, burdening him with additional duties both aboard and ashore. Having remained docked in the same port for a week, their departure was scheduled for the morrow, yet Shanks, in his folly, proposed a return to the tavern they had frequented the day before. Once more. The man seemed insatiable in his thirst for drink, oblivious to his prior excesses. With a sigh, Beckman acquiesced, resigned to another evening spent in the tavern...

The evening unfolded in customary fashion at the bar, with men swaying clumsily to the music and belting out off-key tunes. The crash of shattered glass echoed through the room as drinks slipped from careless hands, earning disapproving glances from the tavern's owner. Finding solace in a secluded corner, he ordered a pint of ale, lit a cigarette, and scanned the room in search of distraction.

Idiots, the lot of them, he mused.

His gaze wandered until it suddenly fixated on something that caught his attention. Across from him, nestled in a quiet corner, sat an intriguing woman, effortlessly beautiful and serene amidst the chaos. Engrossed in a book, she sipped at her drink, while a bag of pastries from a nearby bakery lay at her feet.

Must be one hell of a book to keep her absorbed in a joint like this.

He chuckled softly, entertained by the improbable sight of such a striking lady amidst the tavern's humble surroundings. She seemed to be alone. Could she perhaps provide him with some stimulating company for the evening? Surely, she would be the most engaging conversationalist in the room. It was worth a try.

However, before making any advances, a habitual reflex led him to gauge his captain's interest in her. His eyes swept the room until they settled on Shanks, who was engrossed in merriment with Roux and the others, urging him on with raucous cheers of 'Drink! Drink! Drink!'

Well, he thought, it seems she is mine for the takin’.

With a nod to the barman, he summoned him over.

“Boy, fetch that lady another round of whatever she's havin’. Put it on my tab,”' he instructed. The boy acknowledged the order and set off to fulfill it.

He observed from afar the woman's reaction when she received her pint of stout, the way her eyebrows arched in surprise. She glanced toward him as the barman gestured in his direction. Meeting her gaze, he raised his glass in greeting, only to receive a disdainful snort in return before she returned her attention to her book.

Darn. Not the smoothest start...

He felt a mixture of irritation and intrigue, but he was reluctant to come across as the sort of man who embarrasses himself by persisting in front of a woman's indifference. So he made an effort to brush it off, attempting to ignore her and the way she had rejected him with such disinterest.

As he tried to shift his focus, his mind wandered to the tasks awaiting him before the next day's departure. He made mental notes to check the main mast, which had been damaged in an attack, and ensure that the cargo was securely arranged, wary of any imbalance that could jeopardize the ship's stability.

He hadn't been listing his tasks for even five minutes when he noticed that Shanks had also become aware of the presence of the woman and was approaching her, stumbling toward her table with an oversized grin. With a gesture he likely deemed elegant, he extended his hand.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

"Get lost," she shot back without even sparing him a glance.

Beckman chuckled.

The red pirates howled.

Shanks placed a hand over his heart, feigning heartbreak, then turned to the crew and erupted into laughter with the others.

“Bad luck, cap’n!!” one man shouted.

Turning back to her, Shanks remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?"

"No, thank you" she replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, she added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man," smiling proudly at her own response.

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed.

With an air of indifference, she slowly pointed in his direction, causing him visible discomfort.

Shit.

Shanks and the entire crew turned their attention to him. Shanks's eyes widened, and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

Despite knowing Shanks well enough to understand that his actions were not intended to ridicule him, he couldn't help but feel exposed and irked by the situation.

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!" Shanks declared, breaking the tension. "MAY HE BE LUCKY!".

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses, some of them whistling.

The captain turned once more to the woman, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Then, with a broad grin, he directed his attention back to Beckman, raising his fist with his thumb pointed upward and offering a clumsy wink. And with that, he rejoined the men, who erupted into cheers.

Beckman pinched the bridge of his nose. As a man who valued the discretion of his affairs, he couldn't shake off the sense of shame engulfing him.

Perhaps he should go and offer an apology on behalf of his captain, then simply leave her be. That would be a good idea... so he did just that, approaching her table and pulling up a chair to sit beside her.

Drawing nearer, he couldn't resist stealing a better look at her. Her lips and delicate complexion caught his attention. His gaze inevitably wandered to her curves, wondering what it would be like to lose himself between those thighs. His thoughts took an improper turn, thoughts that he knew would trouble his sleep that night. Shaking off them, he reminded himself of his purpose: a simple apology. But before he could utter a word, she spoke nonchalantly.

"You never give up, do you?"

A tough one. Attractive and pretending to be out of reach, a good combination.

He left the chair on the floor and kept a calm smile.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for-"

"Doll?" She raised her eyes, interrupting him. "Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

His smile faltered as her words caught him off guard.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman," he said, and glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too..."

She shot him a lethal glare, and he raised his hands in surrender. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be."

Disappointed, he made his way back to his table. He was taking his seat when he spotted a group of men entering the tavern, armed and wearing expressions of menace. Their faces twisted into grimaces that spoke of hostility and a readiness for conflict and it appeared that they outnumbered their own group.

Not good.

They advanced through the crowd, shoving people roughly, taunting them, snatching their glasses and draining them defiantly in front of their angry stares. Tension hung thick in the air... and it reached a breaking point when one of them seized a chair, hoisted it into the air, and without giving anyone a chance to react, brought it crashing down onto Yassop's back. He cried out in pain and cursed.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

Fuck.

The atmosphere grew heavier with tension, fists tightening, jaws clenching, and guns aimed at one another. Beckman instinctively reached for his rifle, drawing it from his sash.

"Beck? You still with us?" Shanks called him out, staying calm.

"Right 'ere".

“Please, no slaughter!" shouted the tavern owner.

Briefly, Beckman’s thoughts drifted to the lady, now frightened and huddled against the wall with her eyes fixed on the distant exit door, unattainable and out of reach. She was trapped. With long strides, he placed himself between the crowd and her, a protective barrier.

"Stay behind me”.

Damn, if she wasn't even willing to talk to him before, she surely would never want to see him again after what she was going to witness.

As one of the pirates moved toward him with a knife in one hand and a broken bottle in the other, intent on attacking, Beckman plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of his eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target.

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then chaos erupted.

*** *** ***

Back to the present, his mind wandered back to the same question that haunted him every time he saw you. What if he quitted everything and chose to stay with you? Didn't he deserve some happiness? He liked his life at sea but missed you terribly. And the baby, she surely needed him; as her father, it was his duty to raise her. But would you want that too? After all, you chose your path, and he, his…

Did you even need him? Perhaps not... he knew you managed perfectly well on your own. However, the red-haired one did need him and maybe that was the main reason he wouldn't bring himself to stay. No, for now, he couldn't stay, and both of you knew that, despite the yearning you held for each other.

Maybe one day... in the future... he could sort things out, he could even ask you to be officially his wife -would you accept?-, and build a home for your family, far from the dangers that came with a price on your head.

He rose from his seat and carefully placed the baby in a cradle that had been placed in the living room. Then, he made his way to the furthest window of the room, opened it to prevent bothering the baby with smoke, and retrieved a match and a cigarette. With practiced ease, he lit it and took a drag, inhaling deeply as he stared out of the window.

You opened your eyes, taking a few seconds to focus your gaze until you saw him. His unexpected presence caught you off guard.

A smile spread across your lips as you admired the sight: his broad shoulders outlined against the light, the curve of his neck, the way his now slightly gray hair was tied back in a ponytail... Throughout the years, he had continued to dress simply, wearing a black shirt and a yellow sash in which he usually kept a weapon. A tough and threatening appearance concealing a kind heart and a good man.

Relishing in the moment, you continued to observe him as memories of the day you first met flooded back. What a disaster it had been.

*** *** ***

You were enduring a dreadful day.

You had poured an entire year working very hard to open a bookstore, spending all your savings and efforts on finding a location, negotiating prices with suppliers, and advertising to make yourself known in the town. It was months of hard work and effort and it had only been a week since you opened. While business could have been better, you were not doing badly.

But that morning all your dreams were dashed, a group of pirates stormed into the town and set fire to several shops just for fun. From your bookstore, you could only save one copy, the one you happened to have in your bag at that moment.

You HATED pirates.

Seeking solace, you went to the tavern to have a drink and give your brain a break. You were overthinking too much about your future and were exhausted and moody. You wanted to be alone, so you didn't doll up—no makeup, no provocative dress, nothing—to keep idiots away from you.

As you sat there, already on your third pint of black beer, a group of pirates swaggered into the tavern.

That's all I needed... A bunch of brutes... And they're already drunk? Not surprised.

You considered leaving the tavern, but no, you weren't going to be driven out by a bunch of thugs. You just wanted to relax a bit, and those drunkards didn't seem like a real threat. You thought that if you pretended to read the book you managed to save from the fire, no one would try to approach you, so you seized it and set it on the table.

Until now, with the rush, you hadn't had a chance to inspect it. Flipping it over, you were met with a cover depicting a suggestive scene—a blonde-haired woman in a purple dress, her knee on the lap of a sun-bronzed, bare-chested man, unmistakably a pirate, while lavender-hued letters announced:

'How to Seduce Pirates, Part 2 (Take Him to Bed)"

A flush crept up your cheeks.

Seriously? Out of an arsenal of nearly 3000 books, I could only save this one?

Surely, it wasn't the kind of book you'd want to find yourself reading in a setting like this… but there was no other choice.

The atmosphere crackled chaotic, a symphony of raucous voices and clinking glasses filling the air. Men, their movements awkward and uncoordinated, swayed to the music, their off-key singing punctuated by the sharp sound of breaking glass. 'Drink! Drink! Drink!' they chanted, their voices rising above the chaos.

Amidst the tumult, maintaining the pretense of reading became an arduous task. You sighed deeply, the book in your hands a shield against the uproar. Not even five minutes had passed when the barman addressed you.

"Here you have, ma'am," you glanced up at the boy, noticing him set a beer on your table and gesture towards the man who had ordered it: a pirate, of course. A tall one, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He smiled kindly at you, lifting his drink.

You really weren't in the mood.

What an arrogant prick, how dare he disturb me like that? I'm not even going to thank him...

You snorted and redirected your attention back to the book. But glancing at the pages, your mind tricked you and started conjuring up images of the man.

Alright, he's attractive, I'll give him that. With that black t-shirt barely covering his chest.

That chest...

Maybe I'm being stubborn and could just talk with him... that might help me forget my problems... even if just for the night… I could rip off his sash in one pull and see what's underneath...

NO.

He's a pirate.

Absolutely not. No way. Never.

You were lost in your thoughts when a red-haired man with a big smile stumbled over to your table. With a clumsy movement, he extended his hand and addressed you.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

How? And why? Can't they leave me alone?

"Get lost" was the best reply you could muster.

The man put on a little show to make his friends laugh.

“Bad luck, cap’n!!” one man shouted.

Turning back to you, he remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?".

"No, thank you" you replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, you added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man".

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed.

Oh, that black-haired man was going to regret bothering you. With an air of indifference, you slowly pointed in his direction and watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The lines of expression beneath his eyes grew deeper and against your will, you thought he was really cute like that.

The red-haired man and the entire crew turned their attention to the uncomfortable man and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!"

Ah, the first mate.

"MAY HE BE LUCKY!"

He won't be, not with me, anyway.

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses whistling.

"He is a good man, sweetheart, don't be scared of him," the man whispered in your ear before leaving with his friends, who greeted him. You were a bit shocked and didn't know why, but you sensed that that drunkard meant no harm.

Well, you sighed, not like I am changing my mind. Having already chased away two of them, I'm sure I can continue drinking in solitude.

But you were mistaken, because two minutes later you felt a presence scanning your body.

The first mate.

With a chair in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, a strand of hair falling over his face.

Oh, for god’s sake…

"You never give up, do you?" you threw at him without taking your eyes off the book. For a moment, you felt him hesitate.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for-"

"Doll?" You thought he was mocking you and you exploded, a surge of hatred resurfacing in you. You had tried today to go unnoticed and failed miserably. The memory of your ravaged bookstore brought tears to your eyes, yet you fought to restrain them. And moreover, you felt guilty for being drawn to this man. All you wanted was to distance yourself from him and continue drinking alone.

You did direct your gaze upward, very much upward, honestly, how tall is he? to look at him.

"Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

You flinched at your own words and regretted them immediately. Too harsh, even if you wouldn't take them back now.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman" he said, glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too...".

Fair point.

You gave him a deadly look and he raised his hands, defeated. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be”.

He turned away and walked off from you, while you stood there wondering if you had been too harsh. Your thoughts were interrupted as you spotted a group of men entering the tavern.

Great, more pirates, you thought, all the same crew, you supposed.

They were armed and wore expressions of menace, appearing unfriendly and eager for conflict.

In a moment of escalation, one of them seized a chair, lifting it high into the air. Without a moment for anyone to intervene, it came crashing down onto the back of another man. His cry of pain mingled with curses as he writhed in agony.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

The tension in the air thickened, fists clenched, jaws tightened, and guns leveled at each other.

You stood up, visibly worried about your safety. Your eyes flickered to the exit door, tucked away in the opposite corner of the room and blocked by the crowd of pirates. It was going to be impossible for you to escape from that place. Where could you possibly go, or hide?

"Beck? You still with us?"

Beck.

"Right ’ere," he answered.

“Please, no slaughter!”

In that moment, you caught sight of the first mate, holding a rifle in one hand and a cigarette still dangling from his mouth, moving toward you as though he intended to shield you.

"Stay behind me," he said over his shoulder.

Damn, minutes before, you didn't even want to talk to him, and now you just wanted to see him again.

As a pirate moved toward you, intent on attacking, the man protecting you plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of the pirates' eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target.

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then, the hell started.

*** *** ***

Alright, enough with the nostalgia, you thought, bringing your focus back to the present moment.

Restraining your urge to run towards him and jump into his arms, you pondered over what would be the most fitting greeting for him.

"Benn Beckman, you have balls to smoke near the baby in front of me," you decided to say to him, your arms crossed.

He turned towards you immediately, initially taken aback by your confrontational tone, but relaxed when he saw your face. Leaning his elbows on the windowsill, his eyes locked onto yours as he raised the cigarette to his lips and took a defiant puff.

"Well then, c’mere and try to take it from me".

You stood and approached him, attempting to maintain a serious expression. Raising your right hand, you tried to pluck it from his lips, but he was quicker, lifting it with his hand out of your reach. You huffed in frustration, grabbing his shirt and pushing him down pretending to go kiss him. He smelled like a mixture of tobacco, salt, seawater, and damp wood. As he leaned down to kiss you, you seized the opportunity to snatch the cigarette from his fingers just as your lips were about to meet.

With your prize secured, you dashed away down the hallway chuckling at his puzzled expression. He pursued you immediately, his steps echoing in the hallway as he closed the distance. Before you realize, strong arms enveloped you, lifting you by the hips effortlessly.

“Gotcha”.

Turning you gracefully in mid-air, he spun you around to face him. You giggled as you encircled his waist with your legs and clasped onto his shoulders, steadying yourself.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” he said with a raspy voice.

You raised your hand, the cigarette poised between your fingers, teasingly moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue.

“Do you mean this?”

With deliberate allure, you took a drag before exhaling the smoke slowly, your eyes locked onto his.

“No, this,” with a hunger born of desire, he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss.

You released the cigarette from your grasp, allowing it to fall to the floor. Without hesitation, he swiftly brought his foot down upon it, extinguishing the ember with a resolute stomp.

He swept you into the kitchen, his lips still crashing into yours, before carefully seating you on the cool surface of the dining table. With your eyes shut, you remained oblivious to where you were until the chill of the table beneath your thighs prompted you to open them and take in your surroundings. You barely had a second to look around before you felt Beckman’s fingers touch your chin, drawing your mouth back to his again.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and heard him growl softly. You smiled at this, your hands tracing the contours of his back until they grazed the yellow fabric cinched around his waist.

All the while he devoured your lips, you began untying the sash, a task that with practice, you had learned to do quickly. The moment it came undone, it slipped from his waist and dropped to the floor. Then, pressing your hand against his chest, you broke the kiss, your lips parting to catch your breath.

"How much time?,” you asked.

"Two days”.

"Okay," you replied without complaint or further inquiry. Both of you knew that arguing about it would only cause pain and frustration, as there was nothing that could be done.

Slipping his hands beneath your shirt, he began to caress the skin of your stomach, his fingertips sending shivers down your spine. "Enough time to put another child in this beautiful belly”.

You huffed and tried in vain to shove him off. “Don't you dare, Benn Beckman”. He chuckled and started kissing your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck, and you thought you heard him mumble we’ll see against your skin.

He pushed your legs slowly, spreading them to make room for your bodies to embrace. When they reached the limit, his hands moved to your small back and he pulled you firmly towards him. You gasped at the resolute movement.

“C’mere”.

A stray lock of hair escaping from his ponytail tickled your face, and with the tip of your fingers, you attempted to tuck it behind his ear, only for it to promptly slip out again.

"Where is the boy?" He asked between kisses, unable to separate his lips from yours or his hands from your back.

"Out. Playing with some friends," you managed to say.

"Mmh,” he adjusted his position to center his body with yours, his legs firm against the dining table. “One day I must teach him to fire a gun,” he mumbled.

"He is… only four… years old, Beck”

“Mmmh,” he murmured absentmindedly, his attention focused on the task of urging your body to recline upon the table's surface. You surrendered to his gentle push, letting him guide you until you were lying on your back, utterly exposed to him.

He took a moment to observe you, his gaze lingering on your swollen lips and your chest panting beneath him. You were a sight to behold.

“Fuck, look at you... you’re beautiful…”

His fingers lifted the edge of your skirt and tenderly traced the curve of your thigh, from knee to hip. A warmth began to spread wildly through your lower body as he kissed your neckline, unbuttoning your shirt impatiently at the same time. You raised your legs, wrapping them around his waist with a firmness that conveyed your desire to pull him closer, molding his body against yours in an embrace of longing and urgency.

“Beautiful and all mine…”

Your back arched instinctively, a silent expression of anticipation coursing through your body. He used this movement to slide his hands under your back, lifting and drawing your body even closer against his.

“Bed? Beck…”

“No time,” he managed to say.

He devoured you hungrily, his hands looking for the buckle of his belt in a desperate attempt to free himself. Your breaths quickened in unison, your bodies attempting to meld together…

"HI MOM! I’M AT HOME!"

His movements halted abruptly at the sound of a joyful four-year-old entering the house.

Fuck

With a swift motion, you disentangled yourself from his embrace, hurriedly smoothing down your disheveled clothes and tousled hair.

“I’ll take care of you later," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. A promise he’d better fulfill.

--------------

You had sex all night.

It was an intense session in which your bodies sought each other, embracing and clutching in a dance that lasted until dusk, aiming to reclaim all the pleasure you had yearned for those last months.

Striving to keep both of you hushed, for fear of waking up the kids, he did his best to swallow your moans and stifle his own grunts against your neck, relieving tension in silence.

He whispered praises ranged from the utmost devotion to the dirtiest and most obscene terms, and performed the sweetest and most affectionate caresses intertwined with the most brutal and energetic thrusts.

Every time you reached a peak, with hearts fluttering in unison in your chests, a simple glance, word, or touch reignited a flame that took you all night to quench.

In the soft morning glow, as the sun ascended, you lay in bed, your body exhausted and sore. Your head nestled against his chest, feeling the comforting warmth radiating from his body. He stared at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought, something heavy weighing on his mind.

"Darlin’," he broke the silence.

"Mmh?"

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes, quietly awaiting his words.

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, he hesitated.

"... you know I'd never smoke right next to the baby, right?"

So, that's what it was.

You couldn't help but smile.

Finding comfort in the moment, you nestled your face against his chest once more, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"I know, Beck," you murmured softly, your fingertips gently caressing his scarred temple. "I love you."

-------------

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