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01zfan · 5 months

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date night | o. st

husband!shotaro x reader | 6.5k words

shotaro as the yearning, doting, loving husband, and good father…yes i died three times writing this. wonhee from illit is the babysitter bc she’s so cutie.

contains: unprotected sex, reader is tipsy, daddy & mommy said once

the place had ceilings way above your heads, the suspended chandeliers illuminated the scene in front of him. the sound in the restaurant was as gentle as the lighting, the low chatter of conversation and the sound of metal clanking against plates filled the air.

the food on the table looked deserving of a michelin star, fresh from the kitchen and neatly organized on the candlelit table. every dish seemed meticulously crafted and carefully made like the large paintings that hung on the walls. you didn’t know how to pronounce the food, shotaro watched you point to the dishes you wanted on the menu. shotaro watched your eyes look up to the waiter with a shy smile on your face after he repeated the dish back to you. shotaro was locked into the look on your face, how happy you were that the food looked good. you were excited but you still hesitated, missing the utensil you needed. shotaro could see he gears turning in your mind as you debated on reaching for a spoon. before he could help you, he saw your hand go for the water instead.

as you drank your water, a waiter clad in a white suit came by. he came from behind shotaro, holding the fancy bottle of red wine that shotaro requested over the phone. he was quick, pouring the wine into your glass first. before servicing shotaro the waiter nodded quickly in response to your grateful thank you.

you set your water glass down, clearing your throat while looking at the other wine glass fill up. the red wine splashed in, circling the large base of the glass before filling. the pour came as second nature to the waiter, barely sparing a glance as he filled the glass with the exact same amount as yours.

“enjoy your meal.” the waiter said, bowing one last time before leaving.

when the waiter walked away, you looked around the restaurant again. shotaro saw your eyes wonder, how you chewed the inside of your cheek watching other people eat their food. you even watched the waiter for a moment, following his weaving through the tables. shotaro heard your thanks over and over again, how excited you were to eat the food that was getting cold right in front of you. shotaro lifted his wine glass, causing your attention to go back to him. you reached for the water first, before going to the wine glass and clinking your glass against shotaro.

“cheers.” shotaro said.

“cheers.” you said quietly back.

you took a sip of the red wine, a surprised smile coming across your face as the cherries and hints of black pepper coated your tongue. shotaro nodded, happy he was able to choose a wine you’d like.

“it’s tasty.” you say.

you set the glass down, half of it already gone. shotaro tries to think the last time you were able to have a drink, the last time you let loose.

“have as much as you’d like.” shotaro says.

the pleasant taste of the wine is forgotten by you in a second. shotaro sees the crease in your eyebrows, the one that he wants to reach across the table to rub out with his thumb. you chew the inside of your cheek again as you try to sneak a quick glance to your phone.

“wonhee would’ve called if there was something wrong.” shotaro assures you.

you looked back up again quickly, moving so fast it made the wine in your glass ripple. shotaro was already looking at you, smile on his face because he caught you redhanded.

“you know sometimes my phone doesn’t vibrate when i get a call.” you said.

“that’s why you turned the sound on.” shotaro grabbed a fork on his side, taking it out from the napkin before putting it on your side of the table. “that’s why i turned on mine too.” he said.

shotaro took his napkin and spread it out, placing it on his lap. you followed him, the temptation to call your babysitter for the third time that night eating away at you. you had already called once to make sure wonhee knew your daughter was supposed to go to sleep. the second was to make sure wonhee cut up her food into small enough pieces. shotaro could see you think for another reason to call wonhee.

“do you think wonhee remembered to lock the doors?” you asked.

shotaro nodded, reaching for his knife and fork to start cutting at the meat on his plate. you put your hand on the table, tapping silently with your finger to try and think of something else to freak out about. shotaro had cut up a piece of his food while you still tapped at the table.

“your food is going to get cold.” shotaro said, pointing his knife at your plate.

“i don’t think i’m hungry anymore.” you looked away from the plate, smiling to yourself at how ridiculous you sounded. “we should go home.”

shotaro’s hand reached across the table, letting his hand rest on top of yours. he left a space in between his fingers to let your diamond peak through, and he positioned his hand where you could see your initials engraved on his wedding band. you only looked at the pretty sight in front of you for a second before looking up to shotaro. he had a gentle smile on his face as he tightened his hand that rested over yours.

“baby. we haven’t had time for just the two of us since the baby was born.” you nod your head when you hold eye contact with shotaro. both of you know this was needed, just the ability to spend time with eachother. “try to enjoy your food. there’s that dessert you like here and we can call wonhee on the way home?” shotaro says.

he can see you visibly be swayed at the offer of calling wonhee on the way home. for the rest of the dinner you eat your food and you two catch up, so amazed you had little time to talk about life while caring for a newborn. shotaro can feel himself fully relax and enjoy the night when you stop nervously peaking towards your phone, and his food tastes a little better when he sees you eat. he even indulges himself in the too sweet dessert after seeing how much you enjoyed it. you pace yourself on the red wine, only having two glasses.

neither of you took into account your low tolerance. after paying for dinner and leading you out of the restaurant shotaro has to have a hand on the small of your back to keep you steady in the parking lot.

when shotaro eased you into the passenger seat you were bubbly, and when he reached across your body to buckle you in he felt you press a quick peck to his cheek. shotaro started smiling and laughing shyly, feeling his face get hot. when he looks at you again you’re smiling ear to ear looking at him.

“what’s up?” shotaro asks.

you pinch his cheek and kiss him again, and shotaro knows you can see the pink splay across his cheeks.

“why are you turning red?” you ask.

he feels a smile on his face too despite not knowing why. that was a terrible habit of his when you came around. he always found himself smiling profusely for no reason at all as long as he saw you were doing the same thing. all shotaro can do is shake his head and pretend like he is not blushing profusely just from two kisses.

when shotaro gets in the car and pulls out of the parking lot, your eyes are low and sleepy as you speak.

“i’m so grateful for you.” shotaro looks away from the road again to look at your skin shine underneath the passing lights. “we really needed this.” you say.

you lean into your seat and shotaro moves one hand from the wheel to place it on your bare thigh. you sigh contently and put your hand over his and push your thighs together. shotaro can feel you shiver slightly underneath his hand. he checks for the temperature of the car, making sure it’s just right for you. before he can ask he turns to you again to see you knocked out in the passengers seat.

shotaro spends the rest of the drive in silence, still smiling like an idiot at the feeling of your hand over his.

when shotaro put the car in park you shot up instantly from your seat. it was almost scary, the way you were sleeping one second then wide awake the next. shotaro say you reach fro the phone before realizing you were home.

“did you call wonhee?” you ask.

“we’re home already baby.” shotaro says.

you look around to see your driveway, and your car thats parked next to you. shotaro knows you’re tired but he had no idea it was to the extent of not knowing where you were. shotaro knew you bared the burden of having a child the most. even with shotaro’s help you were stretched thin. in the beginning the stress would bring you both to tears. the late night feedings and the endless crying made you both believe you weren’t cut out for it. but you both made it through by working together, through thick and thin just like in your vows. now your baby was three and she slept through the night, and you had the best babysitter in the neighborhood to watch her while you two went on dates.

shotaro helped you out of your seat, helping you stay upright while you were tipsy, tired, and still in your heels. with your purse in his hand and his hand on the small of your back he guided you to the door, keeping a smile to himself anytime you’d stumble in your heels.

you made it to the door first, covering up the ring camera as you leaned against the door. you looked at shotaro up and down with his jacket hanging off your shoulders. he had to pretend like you were looking at him with pure intentions, but the glint in your eye made it extremely hard. you reached a hand out to grip shotaro’s bicep for no reason, continuing to look at him with hooded sleepy eyes. shotaro gave up looking for the keys for a second to take you in.

“what’s wrong, baby?” shotaro asked.

you didn’t answer with words, only pulling him closer and closer by the arm until he had to put his other hand on the wall beside you to prop himself up. you smiled looking down at shotaro’s lips first before looking into his eyes. even in the dark of night he could see his reflection in your eyes. you batted your lashes at him so innocently while you guided his hand to your waist. once shotaro found his favorite spot your hands went to his shirt, pulling him in further.

before shotaro could place a kiss on your lips, the front door opened. shotaro broke apart immediately, straightening his coat and not missing a beat greeting wonhee.

“i thought i heard you guys.” she said.

when shotaro saw wonhee look for you, he smiled.

“we couldn’t find the keys.” shotaro said.

wonhee moved back into the house while shotaro lead you through the entryway by a guiding hand on the small of your back. you made a beeline for the couch, plopping down on the sofa to take off your heels. shotaro couldn’t stop himself from laughing when he saw wonhee’s confused face.

“she’s had a long night.” wonhee’s attention went back to shotaro. “i hope everything went well today.” shotaro said.

wonhee nodded quickly, a smile coming across her face as she talked about her day babysitting.

“she’s an angel mr. osaki.” wonhee grabs her jacket from the coatrack beside yours. “she ate all her food and loved playtime and went down for her nap. she’s the best kid i’ve ever babysat.” wonhee assured.

shotaro listened carefully to wonhee talking about her day, listening to her full rundown. wonhee made sure to follow her schedule to the minute, following all the instructions given to her before they left. shotaro smiled as he helped wonhee gather her things and called a cab for her. shotaro looked to you slumped on the couch, leaning against the armrest as you slept.

“we really appreciate the help wonhee.” shotaro looks to your sleeping body on the couch again. “we haven’t had the chance to go out in a very long time.” shotaro says.

he pulls his wallet from his pocket as wonhee assures him it’s okay. when the taxi pulls up outside shotaro opens the door for her, handing her the cash. wonhee doesn’t bother to count it, waving goodbye to shotaro and wishing him a goodnight as she walks towards the cab. he doesn’t close the door until he sees the car leave the driveway.

by the time he shut the door and turned to get you to bed, shotaro saw that you were nowhere to be seen. he followed the sound of you tiptoeing down the hallway trying so hard to be quiet.

shotaro followed behind as you made your way through the house. before you could make it to the bedroom both of you deviated from the path to go to a door that was painted pink.

both of you peaked through at the same time, and shotaro felt his heart drop for a second. the sinking feeling was a type of anxiety he couldn’t explain, one that hit him so suddenly when he thought about his child. his parents warned him, telling him that his easygoing and relaxed personality would betray him once he became a father. at the time he didn’t believe them, but now shotaro understood what they meant. he was thinking about the wellbeing and safety of his child even when he knew she was in good hands and thought about the future for her even if she was so young. sometimes shotaro wanted to clutch his chest, but instead he reached for your hand when he felt panic in those moments.

shotaro reaches his arm around your waist and presses a silent kiss to your shoulder, resting his chin where he kissed. you two looked down at your sleeping daughter from the foot of the bed in silence. you both watch her in awe, looking at her chest rise and fall as she lays haphazardly on the bed. she went down with a fight you think to yourself. shotaro is happy he paid wonhee extra—he’s almost positive his daughter gave her hell when she knew it was bedtime. your breath caught in your throat and shotaro feels his heart seize up in his chest when she let out a deep sigh.

“we made that.” shotaro whispers.

you can only nod, and when shotaro sees you looking at him he feels his heart seize again.

the two of you made a whole life together, he can’t stop himself from thinking about when you first met. the both of you were so young and busy with life, love was the furthest thing from your minds. you came into shotaro’s life as the biggest distraction, taking his attention away from how mundane his life was and how beautiful it could be.

he pecks you on the lips quickly, both of you looking at eachother in silence. shotaro remembers everything about your smile so clearly, but he can’t stop himself from mapping out the details over and over again. just as he gets to your smile lines you both hear jostling in the bed. both of your heads snap over to your daughter nearly waking herself up. the same way you guys stumbled to get in you stumbled getting out too, bumping into eachother as you tried to leave before she saw either of you.

when you close the door gently and look at shotaro with wide eyes both of you have to stifle your laughter. even the slightest noise could wake your light sleeper, and shotaro wanted to spend the rest of the night with you. he lets you lead the way to the bedroom as you guys tiptoe down the hallway again.

you walked into the bedroom in front of shotaro, and he let his greedy eyes shift down the backside of your body. he saw your dress, the way it fit you perfectly and the color complimented your skin. he remembers being in the dressing room when you tried it on, the way you did a little spin for him before complaining that it was too loose to buy. after seeing you in it shotaro insisted on you buying it anyway, and he secretly got it tailored to fit you perfectly. he played dumb whenever you brought it up, asking if it shrunk overtime or if you got a different size. you were none the wiser, only shrugging your shoulders before exclaiming how perfectly it fit you now. shotaro wanted to pat himself on the back seeing you wear it, and how it splayed on your thighs perfectly when you sat on the edge of the bed.

you sat facing shotaro with your hands planted on the mattress. you looked up to him and shotaro took his time carefully undoing the buttons on his waistcoat. he enjoyed building the tension with you in moments like this, seeing your eyes leave his face to greedily look at his hands and waist. he liked when he could feel your eyes take in his every move, the way his fingers pushed the buttons through the slits in the fabric and the way he took it off his body gently. he liked feeling your hungry eyes devour him whole before he even put a hand on you. shotaro didn’t know how he was so lucky to have someone like you react so well to him. the phrase what you water grows floated around in his head, but shotaro told himself he’d leave the philosophies for another time. right now, you were here in front of him perched on the bed visibly becoming more and more desperate with each passing second.

“did you have fun tonight?” shotaro asked.

you nodded your head and shotaro bent down to kiss your forehead.

“you worried for nothing.” shotaro said.

“yeah.” you respond.

he put his waistcoat on the back of his chair. he smiled down at your low eyes. outside of the bedroom, your gaze often made shotaro nervous, still to this day shotaro found himself forgetting his words when his eyes would meet yours. but something about the privacy of the bedroom made shotaro bold. he was suddenly able to work through his pounding heart and the goosebumps that raised across his skin when you looked at him. shotaro was even able to take it a step further, meeting your bedroom eyes with his bright non-assuming ones.

“aren’t you glad we went out?” shotaro asked

you nodded again, one of your hands reaching up to hold his shoulder, keeping his head close to yours.

shotaro looked down at your sparkling eyes, already wet from want. it was a blessing and a curse being able to read you so easily. your eyes were always the biggest indicator to shotaro, a direct window to all your thoughts. but once shotaro found out what you wanted he couldn’t resist not giving in. so the teasing shotaro that wanted to make you outwardly say what you wanted was abandoned when he closed the tiny space between your lips.

you were soft against him, even your hand that tightly held shotaro’s shirt felt comforting like a hug. your desperation was always welcomed, sometimes shotaro needed it to keep going. he liked feeling your grip on him, like you were scared he was going to disappear. he held you the same, both hands tight around your body like you were going to slip away.

you move your other hand to shotaro’s other shoulder, and he continues kissing you. he gets on the bed slightly, his suit clad leg next to your thigh as you get lower and lower to the mattress. he kisses you until your back is pressed into the sheets and your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. shotaro raises his body and gets off the bed until he’s standing in front of you again. you prop yourself up on your elbows, licking at your smudged lipstick.

shotaro tried to get on the bed to crawl to you but he is stopped by your heel pressing into his chest. it’s gentle, but it keeps shotaro just far enough from you that he starts feeling desperate. shotaro grabs your ankle and puts it on his shoulder before turning to kiss your calf. it’s a precursor of what’s in store for you tonight. shotaro can see the sly smile on your face as he pulls your heels off of you, putting them on the floor gently to try and not make a sound. he tries to guide your leg down from his shoulders to the ground, but you keep them on his waist.

shotaro never had the courage to tell you that he saw a whole future with you from the moment he met you. he imagined the house, the fancy car, the high paying job, the happiness. everything flashed before him like a dream that became a promise when you started dating him and a manifestation brought to fruition when you said yes. the only thing that was missing was another child—but when you locked your ankles behind shotaro’s waist and pulled him in closer he knew that was next.

“are you still on birth control?”

shotaro asked it gently, his thumb on your bottom lip while the rest of his hand was underneath your chin. he uses his thumb and the spit leftover on your lip to wipe a lipstick smudge from the side of your mouth.

“no i’m not.” you say quietly.

shotaro tsks at you with a smile on his face. he presses his thumb on your bottom lip gently before pushing it past your lips. you don’t hesitate, you give in so fast shotaro feels your tongue wrap around his finger before it’s even fully in your mouth. neither of you break eye contact, the lids of your eyes only lower as you continue looking him in the eye. shotaro’s mouth opens slightly as he pushes his thumb in further, mimicking the way you take him in. when you hollow out your cheeks shotaro pulls his thumb from your mouth with a pop.

he doesn’t say anything else, he only puts his fingers back in your mouth as you continue to suck on them. he puts his three fingers deep into your mouth, keeping eye contact with you as your eyes become watery. when shotaro feels like you are about to gag, he pulls his fingers back and does the same thing again. even as spit begins peaking from the corners of your lips shotaro thinks you look beautiful. he’s mesmerized how you take him so easily, how you refuse to break eye contact.

he lifts your dress with his free hand, pulling it further up your body until your bottom half is left exposed. the only thing that keeps shotaro from you is a pair of lace panties. the trim feels soft against his hand and the color is beautiful against your skin.

“are these new?” he asks, still pumping his fingers in and out of your mouth.

you nod your head and spread your legs further apart, inviting shotaro closer. his hand cups you over the smooth fabric, he presses his palm gently into your heat while you spread your legs even further. shotaro presses your panties into your slit, until he can feel the fabric dampen from your arousal. on of your fingers hooks into shotaro’s dress pants, pulling him closer to you.

when shotaro presses a little harder into your heat you let your teeth come down on his fingers slightly. shotaro tilts his head and you bat your eyelashes at him innocently. he presses his fingers deeper into your mouth and your hole, until you back further onto the bed.

“it’s been so long since i’ve had you like this, right?” shotaro asks.

his voice is sweet and barely above a whisper as you nod, any words pushed back by shotaro’s fingers.

shotaro doesn’t stop fucking your mouth with his fingers, but his hand that was cupping your heat goes to your shoulder to push you back. shotaro feels you bend to him immediately, you let him push you down until your back is resting on the bed. you crawl further up the bed and shotaro follows, getting on the bed to hover over your body. he doesn’t stay further than an arms length away, needing to stay close to you. shotaro can’t control the way he looks at you anymore. his love for you has transformed into something carnal, and its evident in the way you mirror him. when he grabs your hand you grip it back, and when he reaches for your dress you push it down your body.

he wishes that you both weren’t so desperate. he wanted nothing more than to draw out the time between each touch, between each kiss. shotaro wanted to worship every atom of you. he wanted you to break him down to build him back up, and he wanted to do the same to you a million times over. but his need to give you everything you wanted came first, and by the way you quickly lifted your hips to push your panties down told shotaro everything he needed to now. he takes his three fingers from your mouth to pull your panties down the rest of the way. you kick them off once they get to your ankles, and you bend your leg at the knee to spread yourself to shotaro.

shotaro looks down at you as his hand that was in your mouth creeps down your body. a trail of your spit is left in their wake. when he gets to your clit his hand beside your head plays with the end of your hair. he smiles before sticking his finger inside of you. he pumps his finger in and out of your sopping heat the same way he did with your mouth. you open your mouth as you whine, already so desperate from the lack of sexual stimulation.

“more, baby please.” you whine.

shotaro bends down to kiss you while adding another finger in. your lips are soft against his, and they’re so perfect even if your kisses falter from shotaro adding another finger. he still kisses you, moving from your lips to your cheek then your nose.

shotaro leans to the side when he adds in the third finger. your nails dig into his bicep, but shotaro doesn’t stop. your other hand presses to the headboard while you buck your hips into his hand. shotaro could do this all night, pushing you to the edge. you look so pretty when you beg for more but try to close your legs from the overstimulation. the only thing that knocks shotaro from his trance of you is when your open your eyes wide and lean forward.

“let me take care of you.” you said desperately.

with so much time that had passed between the two of you, missionary was the only option. the idea of any other position fell sort, nothing could amount to shotaro being able to see your face or to feel your chest pressed against his.

you seemed to disagree, because your twitching body remained upright as you guided shotaro to lay on the bed. he only resisted for a second, getting ready to tell you that he wanted—he needed you underneath him.

even with your body being weak you still were insistent on taking care of your husband. shotaro felt his heart swell at the sincere look in your eyes and he felt himself strain against his pants as you undid his belt. you tried to be slow and sensual, but shotaro could tell your impatience got the best of you as you pulled his pants and underwear down in one go. instantly shotaro’s dick leaned against his stomach, heavy from all the blood rushing through.

you didn’t go to his dick after you got his pants off. instead you pulled shotaro up by his arms until he was upright. shotaro looked up to you knowing he had stars in his eyes, amazed by the way your mussed hair framed your face perfectly. the stain from your lipstick was perfect, the dried tears in the corners of your eyes looked perfect. shotaro reached a hand up to your face, caressing your skin as you straddled him. you worked at the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one slowly. when you looked down at shotaro he smiles, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“what are you thinking about?” you ask quietly.

shotaro only shakes his head, putting his hands on the pillows as you undo the last buttons.

“nothing.” shotaro sighs.

his hand goes to your waist to squeeze affectionately. when you drop your bare pussy to his thigh to grind on him shotaro tsks at you for submitting so easily. his dick twitches when he realizes you’re ready to ride him despite still having your dress on.

“you’re going to ruin that pretty dress of yours.” shotaro says.

you crawl on your knees to go past shotaro’s waist and line your hips up with his.

“i really love you, you know that?” you say.

you grab shotaro’s dick and raise your hips, lining him up at your entrance. shotaro leans back on the bed, running a hand through his hair before propping himself up on his elbows. he pulls his eyes up from where you are about to take him to look into your eyes.

“show me then.” shotaro says.

without saying anything else, you slowly sink down on shotaro’s dick.he can’t keep his cool when he sees your eyebrows furrow from the feeling. his hand instantly goes to your waist, holding you for stability and to ground you as you sink further down.

“it’s been awhile right?” shotaro caresses the skin of your stomach with his thumb when you nod quickly. “you’re doing so well, almost there.” he coos.

at the praise, shotaro feels your walls ease, causing you to sink the rest of the way down easily. you whine and press both of your hands to shotaro’s chest. while you adjust shotaro can feel you seizing around him uncontrollably. when he shifts his hips slightly he can see your body jolt. the electricity goes straight to his heart, seeing you look down at him with hooded eyes makes him fall in love with you a million times over.

“i can feel you all around me.” shotaro says.

he brings his free hand to press into your abdomen, causing you to swivel your hips.

“so deep.” you whimper.

you plant your feet into the mattress, lifting all the way off of shotaro’s dick just to sink right back down. he loves watching you so determined, so much so he tucks his hands underneath his head to focus all on you. he knows it’ll make you work through the burning in your legs, all just to make him feel good. shotaro pushes his hair away from his face when you slow down slightly.

“poor baby.” shotaro coos.

you moan in response, trying to get the bounce back. you start pouting when your legs stop cooperating. shotaro pinches your cheek, smiling at your anger.

“come here.” shotaro says.

you’re too determined to hear his words, trying to work through the burning pain as your thighs scream at you to stop. when shotaro’s hands pull at your arms you finally listen, letting your body fold over until your breasts press into his chest. shotaro can tell you wish you had taken off your dress fully by the way you try pushing it around. shotaro wishes you had taken it off fully too because the fabric stands in the way of your whole body pressing into his. he can’t feel your stomach tense and flex against his with your dress in the way, and he can’t grab your sides the way he wants to without grabbing handfuls of fabric. shotaro settles for putting his hands on your shoulder blades, pulling you down each time he thrusts his hips upwards.

shotaro feels your teeth press into his collarbone when he hits that spot deep inside of you, he feels your drool dripping onto his skin and he feels your hands digging into the sheets beside him to find stability. feeling you all around him makes shotaro thrust up into you a little harder. he doesn’t want you to lift your hips or grind onto him. he wants to do all the work, as long as you look at him with your glossy eyes.

“baby.” shotaro says while craning his neck to look down at you. he can see your blown out shaking pupils focus on him. “just keep looking at me, yeah?” he says.

“okay.” you move to the crook of shotaro’s shoulder to suck on the skin there. he only has to turn his head to look at you, and you still get to satisfy your oral fixation. “i’ll keep looking at you.” you mewl.

shotaro nods his head while he continues fucking into you. he enjoys hitting the spot deep inside of you, the one that makes your eyes close before you force them open to continue looking at him. even when your eyes are wet from want, showing every emotion but innocence he’s entranced. he’s sure he’s getting high purely from your look, the feeling of you wrapped around him counts as overstimulation.

when shotaro speeds up he feels your lips detach from his skin. you rest your clammy cheek on the wet spot, struggling to keep your eyes open as shotaro hits that spot deep inside of you over and over again. shotaro coos at your parted lips, and you come forward to press them against his. you stay there, lips pressing against shotaro when one of his hands grips your dress to lift you up slightly.

“i’m close.” your hot breath fans against shotaro’s lips as you whine into his mouth.

you struggle to try and keep your hips in the air, but the stimulation makes you weak. shotaro knows already, he will be strong enough for the both of you.

“me too.” shotaro lets your hips rest against his so his hand can grab a handful of your ass.

“gonna give you another baby.” he smacks your ass before gripping it again. “since you’re such a good mommy.” he grunts with a smirk.

shotaro hears you whine pathetically when the word mommy slips past his lips. you’re really weak above him now, your grip on the sheets transfers to shotaro’s shoulders as you hold onto him. he can tell you want to go to the crook of his neck so bad, so you can cry out loud but you stay right there, biting your lip and then speaking.

“you’re such a good daddy.” you whimper.

“gonna cum for me?” shotaro asks.

you don’t say anything else before you clamp around shotaro so tight it’s hard for him to move. it’s almost like you’re sucking him in, so needy as you press your sweaty body further into his. shotaro is sure your nails digging into his skin will draw blood, but he doesn’t mind. pain is sweet when it’s administered by you, the marks left in their wake serves as a reminder to shotaro about how good he makes you feel. so he only hisses through the pain as he speeds up and grips your tighter.

your moans melted down to high-pitched squeaks and pants the last of your strength is used to try and meet shotaro’s thrusts. his hips begin stuttering when he notices the work you’re trying to put in. his hand grips your ass when he pulls you back.

“i love you.” shotaro whimpers.

“i love you too.” you whine back.

shotaro feels you pull back slightly to watch him as he cums. he doesn’t have to put on a show for you, unfiltered whines and expletives tumble from his lips as you look down at him licking your lips. it’s shotaro now who’s fighting to keep his eyes open. he wants to focus on your pretty face, the way you look looking down at him still wanting more. so shotaro gives you all of it, and he keeps you in place so you can take all of it too. while you continue squeezing around his dick he shoots ropes of cum inside of you, so warm and hot it makes his entire body relax. his feet are planted into the mattress to keep himself still inside of you, and his aching stomach flexes as he keeps giving you more.

“feels so good.” you whimper above him.

shotaro swears you orgasm again by the way you falls back onto his chest and whimper pathetically. between your cum and his it’s all a mess, and you both become squirming messes. shotaro whines when you keep squeezing him and shotaro sees tears welling at your water line each time he moves.

you finally collapse against shotaro fully, resting all of your body weight on him while your limbs turn to jello. shotaro’s legs slide out from under him, and his grip on you loosens as he tries to catch his breath.

shotaro feels your ear rest over his heart, even counting his breaths he can’t seem to slow it down. he hopes your heart drums in its cage the same way when he brings a shaky hand to rub your back. you settle into him further, breathing heavy through your nose as you come back to earth.

you look up at shotaro from his chest, and shotaro rests his hand on your cheek. he pinches your soft skin before pressing his hand flat to you face. shotaro takes his time running his hand over your face, letting his wedding band and other rings on his finger touch your hot skin. shotaro sees your eyes close from his touch. he traces over your eyelids, just to see you smile.

you open your eyes again and shotaro smiles back, pinching your cheeks again.

“successful date night?” you ask quietly.

shotaro’s hand goes to your hair, massaging your scalp. he knows that always makes you fall asleep. when shotaro hears you snore lightly, he smiles to himself.

“very successful.” shotaro says to himself.

#requestz #01zfan: shotaro #shotaro smut #riize smut

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 11 months

Text

Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

#Spotify #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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cherryredstars · 9 months

Note

in simon's relationship struggles, you mentioned that he presents you with the ring and you hold out your hand and he slips it onto your finger without either of you saying a word... i love that idea as i am a quiet person myself. would you expand on that please? maybe some hcs about a quiet love shared between them?? sfw or nsfw (or both:)) up to you love your work so much <333

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: How you and Simon show your love without words.

A/N: I smiled so wide seeing this request!! Thank you for loving my little blog!

Word Count: 770 (Not Edited)

It will forever be about the little things. Every detail and trait and action. It’s about the things that are magnified within the warm silence. It’s not a secretive love. A love that is shielded away from the eyes of others so it can be questioned. It’s the type of love that is so clear that there isn’t any question of its existence.

Simon is so perceptive. He notices every micro-expression you have and the slightest changes in body language. He documents it in his mind, storing it for a later date even if it doesn’t seem important. It always comes in handy in some way or another.

When he’s out on missions, far from home and missing you, he tends to imagine your reactions to everything. When he’s out in the towns, he’ll briefly pause outside the shop. He’ll remember the way you had slightly twitched your nose at the colors of a piece of clothing. How your eyes strayed onto something a few seconds longer than usual. Then he’ll walk away from the shop, remembering the name. He’ll be sure to return before he goes home.

He brings back trinkets for you. Always. And it is always something you fall in love with. The same details. He already knows what you would want. What would grace him with that fond smile as you cradle them in your hands. It’s all based on elimination. He’ll pick something up, examine every aspect of it and then go through his checklist of you. How you’ve reacted to similar things in the past and deciding from there if he should move on. He never misses.

In return, you do your little acts of service. Always making sure everything he loves is stocked in the house when he comes home. Has his tea brewing and the kettle going for his convenience. You have the spaces in the house prepared for him to place his things. You make the transition from military to civilian as smooth as possible. His heart warms when he goes to the kitchen at any hour of the day or night, huffing at the sink of dishes. But his body relaxes and the tiniest smile graces his face when he looks to the side and his mug is already in the drying rack waiting for him.

He has never been more content than on the days he leaves for deployment. You will be dead asleep besides him, but it feels like you’re by his side the whole time he prepares to leave. In the kitchen, everything is laid out for him. The box of tea and the kettle and the to-go cup. A throw-away bag sitting in the fridge with a homemade meal for him to eat while he’s away. All the last minute things he grabs on the counter where he can’t miss it.

Before he leaves, he makes sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. He has carefully instructed papers for any situation. Step by step things followed with materials for reference. He makes sure nothing is broken or may be in need of a spruce up before he leaves to minimize your inconveniences. Makes sure the fireplace has wood to last months. Double checks the backup supply of water is filled to the top. Buys extra batteries for emergency flashlights and the back up generator. Makes sure the car has a spare and a filled gas canister that is safely stored away. He predicts any problems you may have and thinks of ways to reduce and prevent it.

There are notes everywhere. You find them in drawers and in small spaces. In the obvious spots and the questionable ones. Inside pants pockets and coats. All have miscellaneous messages. Some paragraphs long and some with small drawings. It warms both of your hearts. You carry a note scratched out in Simon’s chicken scratch reading Why is there a bottle of water in the bathroom cabinet? Simon’s tactical vest has a crumpled and ripped hot pink sticky note that reads A magikarp can easily fuck you up <3 with the ugliest looking fish drawn under it.

The best form of your love is the quiet nights spent in each other’s company. Laying together with small brushes to each other’s skin. It burns into your hearts, and it’s nice to know that the two of you can just exist with each other. The kisses are slow and loving. The touches are lingering and full of yearning. When the two of you slide into bed, tucked against each other, you find it hard to think anything can exist outside of your love.

Simon has no idea what a “magikarp” is, and he has almost drunk micellar water before.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

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a-killer-obsession · 5 months

Text

🎂 Birthday Boy [Zoro x Sanji x Reader] - Part 1

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

You always get Sanji the best birthday gifts, and sometimes that extends to Zoro too.

CW: (for entire series) Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Pegging, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Double Penetration, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, Praise Kink, Begging, Everyone is bisexual cos I say so, Rimming, Pet Play, AFAB reader

WC: (for entire series) 6240

Masterlist || AO3

You'd been with Sanji for a few years now, and you knew him inside and out. Or at least you thought you did. He was entirely devoted to you, hanging on your every word, always by your side, always wrapping his arms around you and covering you in kisses whenever the slightest opportunity allowed.

But when he drank you couldn't help but notice the way his attention turned. How he would lay between your legs, drinking and smoking, his head resting against you as you stroked his hair gently, and his free hand idly rubbing your thigh. And yet, his head would move as he followed the movements of a certain green-haired man. And how on those nights he seemed particularly pliable, wanting you to assert yourself over him, to own him and take control.

About a year into the relationship you'd gone to an adult store together. Hand in hand you sought out various items to spice up your nights; blindfolds, silken ropes, small leather straps designed to redden the skin. But as you perused the wares you noticed how his eyes wandered to a bright green dildo, displayed on a mannequin held firmly in place by a harness. He was curious, but didn't have the courage to ask you.

So you'd bought it in secret, placing it in a gift box amongst tissue paper and tying it with a green satin bow. When he opened it on his birthday, his face flushed red and his hand covered his mouth to muffle a gasp, but he wouldn't take his eyes away from it. You'd taken great care to talk to the sales clerk, asking advice on how best to use it and buying a lubricant she'd recommended for use with it.

He wouldn't look at you, he wasn't brave enough, so instead you'd taken his hand, gently placing it on the dildo and letting him grow familiar, while your other hand laid gently on his groin, feeling the way he hardened and confirming that you'd been right in your assumptions.

“It's okay Sanji,” you whispered lovingly, “you don't have to be embarrassed. I just want to make you feel good. Do you think maybe I could do that with this?” You said, as you guided his hand to stroke the dildo, while your other hand stroked his own cock gently through the fabric of his pants.

He finally found the courage to look at you. All he managed to say was a nervous “yes, please”.

You pressed him back onto the bed and kissed him lovingly as you straddled him. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it to the side to reveal his muscular torso. He whimpered as you ran kisses over his jaw and down his neck, gently sucking and nipping at his skin. Your mouth found his nipple and your tongue swirled around it, and he moaned softly, his hand gently stroking your hair while the other played with his untouched nipple. You were sure to give it some care before you moved further down, pressing kisses all along the center of his stomach.

His pants were tight as you unbuckled his belt, and he lifted his hips as you slid down his pants and underwear. His hard cock greeted you, eager for your attention, and you took it in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base to service what your mouth couldn't reach. Your other hand gently ran circles around his asshole, testing the waters, while he moaned at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Sanji,” you cooed, looking up at him from between his legs, “may I enter you?”

He nodded shyly and rested his head back on the pillow, too nervous to watch, as he spread his legs anxiously for you. You put two fingers in your mouth, coating them slick with your saliva, before returning them to his needy asshole. You gently slid one in, moving slowly as he adjusted to you, letting out a deep groan.

You pumped gently, returning your mouth to his cock, and as he stretched around your finger you carefully slid in the second. He grunted as it entered him, and his hips jolted slightly, making his cock thrust deeper into your mouth. You smirked as you pleasured him, matching the timing of your fingers to the movements of your head as you went down on him.

You didn't want to take him too far like this though, that would ruin the birthday present. So you pulled your mouth away from him, removing your fingers from his ass as he whined.

“Hush my love,” you said, slipping off your own clothes and revealing that you were already wearing a harness around your hips. “I'll give you what you want, be patient”.

He whimpered as he watched you take the dildo from the box and slide it into your mouth, lubricating it with your saliva. Then you unbuckled a loop on the harness so you could slide the dildo into the holder, rebuckling it and securing it tightly.

Unknown to him, the harness also held a second dildo, a smaller one with a pulsating feature that had been deep inside you for the last few hours while you had waited to give him his gift. Your pussy was slick around it, and every movement made it press into you. You switched on the pulsating feature, it was connected to the main base and would send a pulse whenever the large dildo was stroked. Needless to say this setup cost a fair amount, Sanji clearly had expensive tastes when he had eyed it up in the store, not that he knew that. Anything for your birthday boy though, you'd thought to yourself when you purchased it.

He held his breath as you climbed back on to the bed, bringing a small bottle of lubricant with you. You settled yourself between his legs and squirted a generous amount onto the dildo, shuddering as you stroked it to spread it out and the movement was translated inside you. You squeezed the bottle over his ass and let the lubricant drip over his hole, fingering him gently again to make sure he was completely slick. You didn't want to take any chances of hurting him and scaring him away from something you knew he was curious about.

You kissed him softly as you lined the dildo up with his entrance. He whimpered quietly in anticipation as the head pressed against his hole. You sat back, kneeling between his legs and looking at his sky blue eyes, and he gave you a quiet nod of consent before letting his head fall back again and biting his lip.

You slid the dildo inside him gently. You went slowly, only a little at a time, giving him time to adjust. He moaned quietly and balled the sheets up in his hands as they lay either side of him. As you bottomed out you felt a pulse inside you and moaned in unison with him. You paused, letting him grow familiar with this new feeling.

“Are you okay my love?” you asked him, taking his hard cock in your hand and stroking it gently, “is this okay?"

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, “it feels- it feels good.”

You were relieved to hear those words, worried that he would change his mind now that you were deep inside him. Well, not you really, but the way the dildo inside your pussy throbbed as it gently pulsed, you felt like it really was you.

“Will you..” he whispered, “will you fuck me?”

He looked at you with two pleading eyes, glazed over with love and need, and you cupped his cheek gently with your free hand, pressing your thumb to his mouth and letting him suck on it. The way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine, how could anyone be so alluring?

You let go of his face and his cock, and held his hips firmly as you began to rock back and forth. This was a new motion for you, and it took a bit to find a rhythm that reminded you of the way he usually fucked you, you figured if that made you feel good that maybe it could make him feel good too.

The dildo inside you gave a harsh pulse with every thrust, urging you to do it again and again. He moaned and held the sheets tight, his legs spreading wider for you as you fucked him deep and slow. As he adjusted you slowly increased your pace, your own need stirring inside you.

“H-harder,” he pleaded.

You quickened your rhythm, hovering over him with a arm either side to support yourself as he watched you face contort, your own pleasure spiking as you fucked him harder. He wrapped his arms around you, his nails digging into your back. The way he moaned your name and writhed underneath you, coupled with the pulsing inside your pussy, made you feel high, your climax approaching. He saw the way you weakened, knowing you were close, and slid a hand between your bodies to stroke himself as his own peak approached.

His moans increased in volume and pace, as did your own, and he spilled out your name along with a string of swears between heavy breaths. You sat back on your heels, wanting to watch him touch himself and whine as you fucked him.

“[Y/n], please,” he cried out, “harder, I'm- I'm so close”

Your movements became frantic, pumping him as hard as you could, crying out as the pulsing inside you brought you to your peak and you squirted over the dildo that was hidden deep inside you. He watched you cum, and the way you called out his name brought him to the edge. He came hard, strings of semen shooting out from his pretty cock and painting his abdomen as he panted and cried out that he loved you.

You fell against him, breathing heavily as his ejaculate transferred to your own abdomen, making sticky strings between your bodies. You pulled out of him slowly and he whined at the lack of fullness. Finally he understood what he felt like to be left empty, maybe next time he was inside you he would stay in for longer.

You rolled off of him, laying on your back beside him, catching your breath as your orgasm faded. It had not gone unnoticed by Sanji, who was a little confused.

“How-” he panted, “how did you, how did you make yourself cum?”

You chuckled and raised yourself on your knees beside him, unbuckling the harness and sliding the hidden dildo out of yourself. He watched hungrily as you removed it, your slick glistening on it. Not wanting to waste a good thing he took it from you and sucked it, making a show of swirling his tongue around it, not wanting to waste a single drop of you.

You gasped and smacked his arm playfully. “Dirty boy!” you exclaimed, smiling coyly at him.

“Waste not, want not” he replied after the dildo left his mouth with a pop, smirking at you.

You laughed and gave him a chaste kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “My good boy,” you whispered. He practically purred at you.

“Happy birthday my love” you cooed. He sighed and laid back, stroking your hair and smiling contently.

NEXT PART ➡️

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #zosan #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji

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the-comorbidity · 1 year

Text

Pay Girl

summary: sex was a commodity in the QZ, and Joel Miller would do (and pay) damn near anything to have you

warnings: MDNI!! prostitution, consensual sex, mean!joel, prostitute!reader, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, mentions of subspace, overstimulation, use of "baby brain", "dollface", "pretty girl", face tapping? not like slapping, just light taps, biting, possessive!joel

wordcount: 1942

a/n: welcome to my first ever post/work on this account!! i hope you enjoy, please be sure to provide feedback if possible xx

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Joel Miller was not above paying for sex. Here, in the QZ, everyone was on the verge of murder for any sexual release, and men would crumble just for the sweet feeling of sliding in.

Joel Miller was not above paying for sex.

He’d learned of your little business when he was snooping for more passages to the outside. It was… quiet, he’d admit. Didn’t look like what it was from the outside with nothing demarcating the door other than a ratty sock just outside the door. He stepped in trying to scour the place for supplies, and came out with a list of services and prices instead.

He’d tried a few different women, but you were his favorite.

You, with the soft skin and the sweet voice. You, with the fruit scented hair and the vanilla scented lotion. You, who was much younger than Joel.

You, who was the stuff wet dreams were made of.

He could always tell it was you who came to his door. You knocked thrice every time, raps on the door so soft that if Joel had the radio any louder, he would’ve missed it. But even if it were, he scheduled a time and you were nothing if not purely obedient.

He opened the door and you were there, ratty sneakers and a shirt that exposed your midriff. He’d guessed you got your hands on a tube of lipstick, because your cheeks had a light dusting of pink, and your lips looked the perfect shade of kissable.

Joel didn’t say anything, just moved over to let you in, but he was already growing hard at the thought of seeing tears roll down your pretty face.

“Where do you want me?” You say, and he nods towards the bed.

“Sit up on the side, I want your mouth on me first.” You hum so goddamn innocently, and Joel was sure he’d cum in his pants if he had to spend another minute without his hands on you.

He unbuttons the bottom three buttons of his flannel and unzips his jeans while you strip bare and take a seat, and you can feel your mouth water at the trail of hair that goes from his stomach to his cock, which slaps up against the golden skin of his belly. He steps up to you, cupping your small face in his much larger hands, and tilts your chin so he can stare down at you.

“You want me?” He asks and you nod, peering up at him through your eyelashes and fuck, he needs you.

“Beg.” His voice is pitched higher just a little, like the words he’s saying don’t have a filthy meaning behind them. But it’s the way your voice wavers when his cock twitches at your pleads and his hands in your hair that keep your head tugged back and the tears on your bottom lid, it’s that which makes him shut you up.

“Kiss it. No hands.” You do as he says, keeping your thumbs held behind your back as you bend down and kiss the tip, the salty taste of his precum floating over your tongue to coat your senses in everything him. His hands gather up your hair in a rudimentary ponytail, urging you to take more.

Joel tosses his head back, a deep groan etching and carving its way from the bottom of his throat as he feels your constrict around him. Sweet, darling you, he can feel you gagging when the tip of your nose brushes the wiry hair that sits at the base.

He’s so thick, you think, and your lips are tiring from stretching around him. There’s a particular moment in which he tugs you down by the hair but thrusts up at the same time, and you gag so hard your hands come flying forward to push him away on instinct. He practically pushes you off of him, a disgruntled noise coming from him.

“Didn’t I say no fuckin’ hands? The fuck am I payin’ you for?” Your lips tremble, and his hand surprisingly comes up to hold your chin tenderly before winding back and tapping your face a few times as if you were stupid and he were trying to explain the simplest thing to you.

“Do you think you can lay back on the bed? Can you follow those orders, or is it too fuckin’ hard for your little baby brain to comprehend?”

“I c-can do it.” You lay back, just as he says, your back propped up with pillows that smell so distinctly like Joel and as his hand sneaks up your inner thighs to the place that’s dripping for him, you feel yourself start to get a little floaty.

His fingers brush the insides of your thighs, barely inches away from where you need him the most. He hears your breath hitch when he swipes a finger, collecting your juices before bringing it up to his mouth. He hums around his finger, cleaning it off and getting it wet before bringing it back down and pushing it in. He feels you squirm away almost immediately, caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion, but he throws an arm over your hips and leans down, effectively pinning you where you lay.

“Nuh uh, pretty girl, you take what I give you, you understand? No squirmin’ away.”

God, he’s so mean. But as he adds another finger and begins to circle your clit with his thumb, skin rough and calloused, the only thing you pray for is that he doesn’t stop. Your legs shake from the onslaught of pleasure, and he looks like he finds joy in your struggle to speak.

You can’t even tell him you’re on the precipice of release. The noises spilling from you aren’t close to words and he needs you to ask permission before you do, but you can’t escape his pleasure because of the heavy arm over your waist. His eyes are trained on you, lips twisted up in a sick smirk that tells you exactly what you need to know; he knows you’re about to cum.

“Remember to ask, dollface.” He’s so unbearable. Your hands unfurl themselves from his sheets and instead claw at the arm that lays heavy over your waist.

“Joel, ‘m close.” You manage to get out, and he chuckles.

“Yeah?” He says, readjusting himself so his mouth is level with your ear without halting his motions, “hold it.”

“Can’t, Joel, please.” You beg, yet he remains silent, curling his fingers slightly to add to your pleasure. He sighs, as if you couldn’t complete the simplest of tasks.

“If you cum now, you’re not stopping. No breaks.” His voice goes dark, and you try everything possible to stave your orgasm off, but the nips of pleasure become too much and your toes curl as your pussy clenches around his fingers, your thighs tightening over his wrist.

He clicks his tongue at you as he grabs a condom out of the nightstand and rolls it over himself. He makes you feel worthless, with the way he pulls his fingers out of you and replaces them with his cock, stretching you out beyond belief. He quiets your whimpers of overstimulation by shoving his fingers in your mouth, and he gives you no moment of reprieve, fucking you almost immediately after you cum.

You’re sobbing around his fingers. The pace he’s set is unbearable and you want nothing more than him to fully shed his flannel and run your fingers over his skin, pulling him close. You need to feel his weight on you, something, anything. He’s dangling you in this fragile headspace and you need him. Finally, he pulls his fingers away, using his hands to push your thighs up and fuck you deeper somehow, pushing you over the edge again, the orgasm sharp, all pain and pinpricks. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and he laughs at you, all dark and growly.

“Joel.” He looks up at you from where his glance was, watching you take him almost effortlessly. You reach your arms out, not trusting your voice for anything more than his name.

“You wanna feel me? You want me close?” You tug at the buttons of his shirt, and he unbuttons them quickly and throws his flannel away before allowing you to tug him by the shoulders onto you. He tilts your head up, exposing your neck to him before swooping in and marking you up.

“Mine,” he whispers against your skin, “all fuckin’ mine.” Your nails sink into his skin, dragging down to leave raised red tracks in their wake. He groans into your neck, the pain making him fuck you even harder. The noises the both of you are making are obscene, coupled with the sound of him sliding in and out and the rickety headboard slamming against the wall, it’s all too much and you can feel your third orgasm growing just out of reach.

The sting of overstimulation has faded once again, and you can tell that Joel nears his end, with the way his hips meet yours with no set pace, and the way his hands curl tighter into the meat of your thighs, definitely leaving bruises for the next few days.

“You close?” He asks, just a peak of the softness that lay behind the rough and tumble exterior.

“I need-” You grumble out the rest of your sentence, curling your hand around his wrist and placing his fingers on your clit, the barely-there pressure already causing your body to twist. He gets the hint, circling your clit with more and more pressure until you choke on your words and look up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Awh, you’re gettin’ there, ain’t ya? Almost there for me?” You nod, eyes rolling back once again when the pleasure gets overwhelming.

“‘M there, pretty girl, you gonna cum with me? You gotta cum with me, wanna feel this gorgeous cunt milkin’ my cock.” His words are making you clench around him, and suddenly you’re getting closer and closer to bliss. It’s not razor sharp, not like your first or second ones. No, this seems more gentle, as if you’re running up and then subsequently rolling down a grassy knoll. It’s soft and warm and welcoming, welcoming to the ache in your joints. He cums with a mighty groan, emptying into the condom. He thrusts a few more times, toying with his own prickly feeling of overstimulation before pulling out, ridding himself of the prophylactic and tying it off. Joel groans as he rolls over, pulling you with him until you rest on his chest.

“How was that?” You ask, a chuckle pouring out of the Texan.

“Glad I asked for ya.” He says simply.

From the first time meeting Joel to now, you realized he was a man of very few words, rather showing his affection in ways of service or physical attention. But then again, you’re a pay girl. Aftercare isn’t in the “contract”, so to say. With Joel, you could get about five minutes of his soft, molten interior before he built his walls back up, inevitably getting out of bed to clean you with a towel that had all of the fibers burnt together, like he was wiping you with sandpaper. He’d help you get your clothes on, maybe offer you a drink.

But at the end of the day? You were here for payment. And he’d shell out ration cards and cigarettes to you and call it a day, but the both of you knew that you’d end up in his bed again.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x female!reader #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 7 months

Text

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - A Songfic

Pairing: None

Rating: General, although my blog is, as always, 18+ only

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Summary: I am a visitor here. I am not permanent.

A/N: @whatsnewalycat said that The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by the Postal Service was a Marcus Pike song and then I listened to it during a thunderstorm and imagined a whole scene based on it. I’m not sure whether or not to call this a songfic, but there are several direct quotations from the lyrics and the “plot” of this follows the song pretty closely. For best results, listen to this song while you read. The lyrics are posted at the end of the fic <3

Masterlist

A lone figure cuts through the wet fog, his collar turned up and shoulders hunched forward in a futile attempt to ward off the elements. The faded leather jacket may have been sufficient enough for even the coldest winter days in Austin, but against the drizzle and wind in this new climate, it only succeeds at keeping him dry. Mostly. The notion that he may not be as well-prepared as he had originally thought himself to be grates on him, shame niggling at the back of his spine at the realization that he doesn’t even know where to go to purchase a winter coat.

A gust of wind sends thousands of miniscule, stinging droplets of water into his face, making him grimace, and Marcus wonders to himself how it could possibly still be raining with temperatures so close to freezing.

It seems as though he’s stopped at every street crossing, because of course he is, and he squints against the endless line of headlights and brake lights extending in either direction, blurring and distorting in the soggy weather, as he waits for the traffic lights to turn.

It gets dark so early here.

His phone buzzes against fingers shoved in his pockets, and he fishes it out to read the text message that flashes on the screen.

Sorry, I think you might still have my spare key? If so can you mail it back? Thx.

The cavity of his chest feels empty and raw as his vision seems to darken around the words, twisting and warping them much like the rain and the headlights. Marcus pockets the phone again without responding and stares blankly at the ground. He thinks about the endless, pitch-black tunnels stretching out in every direction beneath him, wondering how many feet of asphalt and concrete there are between the bottoms of his feet and the top of the cavernous expanse of the DC underground. He imagines the sidewalk crumbling, sending him down into the unknown depths.

In reality, he takes the escalator across the street.

The station is buzzing with life–as it always seems to be, no matter the hour–and Marcus watches vibrant humanity swirl around him. Two teenagers sharing the same pair of headphones. A tired-looking mother with two young children. A woman in a business suit, eyes glued to her phone. A disheveled old man, smelling of booze, that everyone subconsciously steps around without even a look in his direction.

Marcus fishes in his pocket for his metro card, his fingers bumping against the badge he had immediately unclipped from his lapel upon leaving work–the one that spells out a single word with big block letters, just another indignity upon all of the other indignities he’s suffered this week.

When he had asked why his regular badge–the one he’s clipped on his lapel every morning for over a decade–wasn’t sufficient, the bored door attendant tried to explain about building access being tied to his network credentials, which were tied to something called “Active Directory,” and it couldn’t be done right now because they were experiencing downtime after a backup server failed, and Marcus didn’t really understand what any of this meant or why this hadn’t all been set up beforehand, but there was hardly a point in trying to get answers to his questions because none of it would speed up the activation of his new credentials, nor the delivery of his new laptop, which wasn’t arriving until Monday.

None of this was done with malicious intent, of course; nor is he the only new employee affected, going by the line of badged Agents standing in line every morning this week to get the day’s temporary access, but Marcus still feels like a marked man. Separate. Apart. Singled-out.

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent.

It only compounds upon that same feeling inside of him: that feeling that he’s on some sort of strange vacation, and that soon he’ll be able to return home. Home. To his little duplex in Austin, where he shared one wall with Mrs. Ruth Galloway, the eighty-five year-old widow he had a cup of tea with every Sunday at two pm. To the city he knows, the field office where he’d spent most of his career, with familiar rooms and familiar faces… where she walks through the familiar halls. With him.

Marcus swallows thickly, shoving the painful lump down into his stomach.

No, he can’t go home.

The spacious condo certainly doesn’t feel like home when he opens the door to find the large living room dark and cold and foreboding, although that’s probably mostly his fault–the walls are still lined with moving boxes, most of them still half-full with his belongings, messy and unkempt after rummaging through them to find the essentials and leaving the rest.

When he had toured the building, two weeks before the move, the large residence felt full of dreams, of possibilities, rather than empty and sterile. Marcus remembers going from room to room, his head filled with images of an idealistic future: a king-sized bed, his and hers towels in the pristine bathroom, a bookshelf large enough to fit all of their books in the first spare room, and, in the second spare room… a crib.

Now, they’re just two empty rooms.

The fridge is empty too, Marcus suddenly remembers, having not had a chance to find a grocery store yet. He’s been living out of takeaway containers, not even bothering to open the box of dishes and silverware. He takes out two styrofoam boxes–one half-filled with leftover Pad Thai, the other with chicken Tikka Masala, and dumps them side-by-side into the same container with a half-grimace.

Beats going back out into the weather.

There are two beers left in a six-pack bought three days ago, so he opens one and takes a long sip while the microwave heats his food. He thumbs through the mail he left on the kitchen counter absentmindedly, finding mostly junk advertisements and coupons, but a takeout menu for a Sushi restaurant catches his eye. As he sets it on top of several other menus he’d accumulated over the last couple of days, the microwave beeps, alerting him to the fact that his dinner is ready.

Marcus sits at the kitchen table and flicks on the TV in the living room, setting the channel to some random rerun of a syndicated sitcom that he doesn’t recognize, mostly for background noise. He pulls a somewhat-soggy copy of the Washington Post he snagged from the breakroom from his messenger bag and flips through the pages without really reading any of the headlines until he finds the crossword. He halfheartedly fills out the clues as he eats, the canned laugh track from the show filtering in and out of his awareness. The clue ‘strips in geography class (6 letters)’ finally causes him to rub at his temples, setting down the pen as he rises to his feet to toss the empty container and bottle in the trash.

The other beer is popped open, and Marcus settles down on the couch, flipping through channels. He pauses briefly on a black and white film–Roman Holiday, he recognizes after a minute or two of watching–but when Ann and Joe kiss on the riverbank, he quickly switches to a basketball game instead. Keeping the volume low, he lets his mind wander as he blankly watches the teams run back and forth on the court, not all that interested in the score.

He needs to buy food. He needs to find somewhere he can get a winter coat. He needs to find a post office, he suddenly remembers, thinking of the text message from earlier. He checks the time–late, probably too late. Wait, no–it’s two hours earlier in Austin. Two beers is hardly enough to even feel the alcohol, but apparently it’s enough to dull his sense of judgment, because he finds himself pulling out his phone. The call goes straight to voicemail, and he tries not to think about the possibility that she’s screening her calls because of him.

“Hi, uh… Hi. I’m sure you’re busy, but I got your message earlier about the key, and… I think I do have one, yeah, but I’m not sure… where, exactly. I’m still in the process of unpacking, got a couple more boxes to go through,” Marcus says, looking at the large pile of boxes in front of him and knowing he’s got many more throughout the house. “I’ll make it a priority to find it and send it off this weekend.

“It’s really nice here,” he continues, seemingly not able to stop the flow of words once they’ve started. “There’s a Thai place down the street that you’d like, but the spring rolls are so-so. Not like that one place we found in Ridgetop, remember that one?” Marcus chuckles softly to himself, hardly recognizing the sound of his own laughter, and it sends a pang down into his chest. “I–” he stutters, blinking rapidly. “I know things weren’t perfect between us. The–the timing wasn’t right, and there were a lot of… of uh, obstacles in our way, but I’ve been doing–” he huffs humorlessly, “–a lot of thinking over the past couple of days, and I think I understand now. I saw a life that I wanted, and… I pushed for it. I pushed too hard, without–without thinking about how you felt about it, about whether you were ready, whether you even wanted a life with me. You were… you were trying to tell me, that whole time… and I didn’t listen. But I… I think I finally see it–why I was the one worth leaving. It was never going to be me, it couldn’t have been. I ignored all the signs that I was pushing too hard, not listening, pressuring you…” He takes a shaky breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. You were right to leave. I–I wish you the best, Teresa.”

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

The Postal Service

Smeared black ink

Your palms are sweaty

And I'm barely listening

To last demands

I'm staring at the asphalt wondering

What's buried underneath

I'll wear my badge

A vinyl sticker with big block letters

Adhering to my chest

That tells your new friends

I am a visitor here, I am not permanent

And the only thing

Keeping me dry is

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

D.C. sleeps alone tonight

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

The district sleeps alone tonight

After the bars turn out their lights

(Where I am) And send the autos swerving

Into the loneliest evening

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fanfiction #The Mentalist #songfic #pedro pascal #Spotify

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triplesilverstar · 9 months

Text

Interrupted

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Female character

CW: Dirty talk, talk of marriage, grinding, being walked in on, almost P in V sex

Word count: Roughly 3K

A/N: Once more Vash has broken his hand in a way you can't fix which means back to Home for some repairs. While you're there a subject comes up that you aren't sure how you really feel about it and it leads to things getting a little hot and heavy between you and Brad.

Pushing the joint you hear a sharp hiss, raising a single eyebrow before letting your eyes follow, Vash biting the corner of his lip and you can see one of his sharp canines sticking out. A small tear at the corner of one of his blue orbs, watery and once he catches your gaze he puts on his best pout and tries his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“That’s not gonna work, Sunshine.” Not because he doesn’t know your weakness, nope it’s a far similar reason. “I can’t fix this, The second knuckle joint is locked and I don’t know how to fix it.”

His attempt at swaying you into helping him fades as quickly as he lets out a long breath. “Are you sure?” A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes, his sunglasses perched atop his head while the two of you sat on the bed.

“I’m sure. You know what that means.” Chuckling as he falls backward against the bed. “We’re going Home.”

It took the two of you a few days to find the sandstorm that held the ship you called Home floating around the planet. Another few days and both of you took the pair of Tomas you had into the storm and into the service bay near the base of the ship. Shaking your head to try and loosen some of the grains of sand before pulling your scarf away from your head and face.

The Tomas you’re sitting on shaking, sending a pile of sand to the floor in a similar fashion to Vash and you move farther into the bay. Seeing the familiar form of Brad in the doorway you wave before dismounting, taking the bird to a pen removing the harnesses, and putting water in a bowl for the bird before going to help Vash.

“Well well, didn’t expect to see you two Home so soon after last time.” He folds his arms across his chest, and when Vash hisses as his finger gets caught in the saddle straps as it’s removed. “What’d ya break?”

You don’t give Vash a chance to respond and beat around the brush for his injuries “The second joint of his ring finger is locked up. He tried to catch a car with his hand, the car won.”

“Mayfly!” The whine Vash lets out at your betrayal is almost funny, but you don’t want to spend the next twenty minutes of Vash and Brad doing their usual song and dance.

“Was it at least for a good reason?” Brad grouses, sending you a signal that he’s at least glad he already knows what he needs to work on and without a waste of time.

“I saved a little girl” Vash pouts looking at you instead of Brad, but you know Brad will just be slightly less mean about how he treats Vash as he works on his prosthetic. Waving at Brad once you were both done, watching Vash follow after the older man while you head for your shared room with both your bags. At least while his hand is being worked on you can see about mending some of your clothes and doing the rare loads of laundry.

A few hours later you found yourself sitting in the cafeteria with a cup of coffee, humming as you savored the dark brew and listening to some of the inhabitant's chatter. Occasionally being pulled into the conversations when something about the planet was asked, and while you were a bit of an outlier on the spaceship the regular inhabitants still tried to include you and Vash when you were onboard.

“Hey, there you are.” Grinning, you push the chair backward so you’re tilting on two of the legs and angling your head your vision filled with an upside-down Vash. “I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places.”

Taking in his appearance while the others greet Vash which he returns, you know he went to the room first, his red coat and holster stripped from his body. Glancing downwards you notice the hand and forearm of his prosthetic are missing, raising an eyebrow at him as you bring all four legs back to the floor and turn in earnest to look at him.

“Once I got the laundry done I got invited to coffee.” Gesturing with an open palm to the other three at the table. “What’s the news about your hand?”

“Brad needs to keep it for the day, he said he needs to replace the joint itself.” Ruffling the back of his head with his flesh hand and sending you a grin of his own. “Guess I did get a little too carried away this time.”

“Ya think.” You deadpan before rolling your eyes. Finishing your coffee you stand, heading for another cup as Vash is invited to join and he takes the chair you had been seated in.

From the serving station with the coffee, you can hear the others chattering to Vash excitedly catching up since the last time the two of you had been here had been more by chance than planned. Vash might try to deny it, but these people are his family and it makes that small flame in your chest flicker when you see him interacting with them. While refilling your cup, you make a second with far more cream and sugar than anyone should have to bring back for Vash.

Placing it in front of him on the table and watching him pat his flesh hand on his lap, an invitation. You were just going to go grab another chair to drag over, but. This is Home. The one place you don’t have to hide the fact you’re together, where you can do stupid little things that make your heart melt like just holding his hand around people.

Letting the tension from your shoulders drop you slip into his lap, feeling that same flesh hand pat your hip briefly before reaching for his coffee. “Thank you, Mayfly.” Whispered in your ear as he leaned closer for it, sending your tummy a flutter with nerves.

Both of you rejoin the conversation, well you mostly listen and answer when asked a question while Vash is a regular part of the banter.

“So. When are the two of you getting married?” The coffee that you had been swallowing goes down the wrong pipe as you gasp fist slamming your chest to loosen it while you’re certain you look bugged-eyed in response. Where the hell had that come from?

“Well ugh we’ve never really talked about it” Vash is being bashful, rubbing circles on your back while you place the cup back on the table still gently coughing trying to clear your throat. “It’s not like we can say anything outside of Home anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” Something in his voice catches your attention, but you’ll ask him about it later when it’s just the two of you.

“Aw, well that’s too bad. I mean the two of you make a cute couple and it’s not like we often have much to talk about here. So whenever you two are around it’s fun to tease you.” The woman who first asked the question, Jessica, smirks resting her chin on her head on the table looking a little dreamy.

“Right tease,” another woman remarks, Tess, playful shoving Jessica. “Has nothing to do with the fact you used to have a crush on Vash yourself.”

That makes the entire table laugh and the conversation moves on to something else, and later as the mugs are put away and you and Vash are heading for your room you stretch your shoulders and bring your arms down feeling Vash interlace his fingers with yours.

“So…” You drag the word out, glancing at the tall blond beside you.

“Why did you start to choke when the marriage thing came up?” Well, at least now you know why his voice had dropped a little when he answered the question.

“Honestly?” Making sure you have eye contact with him as you make your way down the hall, you don’t want him to take this the wrong way like he did your reaction in the cafeteria. “I wasn’t expecting it. I mean you had to have been thrown a little too, going from talking about worms to marriage.”

Watching his nose twitch in thought. “What do you think about the actual idea?” You don’t miss the slight bite to his lip after he asks the question, a sign of his worry about what you might say.

“Marriage is kind of a social contract, isn’t it? Just made more formal by a piece of paper and metal?” You shrug and watch him roll his eyes as you flippant answer. “I just guess I’ve never really thought about it all that much before, probably because I never thought I’d ever find someone to love.” That part is honest, as the two of you reach your bedroom door and step inside.

Letting your hand go and waving his own along the inside to lock the door mechanism while you move further in and look at your shared space. It’s not much but the more times you come Home, the more it’s starting to feel like your and Vash’s little slice of, well, normal. In these four walls, the two of you can just be you. Not the Ghost Sniper, and not the Humanoid Typhoon. Just two lovers who are still figuring things out.

Looking over your shoulder you grin seeing him looking at the floor with his eyes a little downcast, no doubt still thinking about the previous conversation. “For the record” waiting to continue until his head rises and those sparkling blue eyes that are currently full of sorrow look into your own mischievous ones. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, you big dork. After all, I technically offered to marry you before.”

The sorrow slowly morphs into annoyance before jubilation as he closes the distance and wraps his arm around you. Burying his nose in your neck and tickling your skin making you laugh. “Big dork huh?” While you can’t see his face, you can picture the smirk starting to form on his visage unsurprised he ignores the reminder about your proposal of marriage when you had been eating his cooking unaware it was him. “Well, I have something else big that I don’t think you deserve right now. ”

“Oh come on Sunshine. I’m a good girl, don’t I deserve it?” You tease right back, grabbing both of his butt cheeks playfully and making him jump in surprise. The wash of his warm breath across your sensitive skin makes you shiver in delight.

“You.” Trailing his nose along the column of your neck up to your ear. “Are.” Still dragging the tip across the ridge of your cheekbone. “Never” a quick peck to the tip of your nose before he keeps moving, across to the other cheekbone. “A” His nose is at the shell of your other ear, tracing the outside of it before pressing his lips against it and murmuring directly into the opening. “Good girl.” Bitting into the bottom of your lobe you hiss, but damn, his words have a fire starting in your core.

Clenching your thighs together to try and gain some friction, while one hand snakes its way under the hem of his shirt to touch the skin of his back, and the other is tangled in his hair, gripping the blond silky strands. Moaning against the side of his face you feel his hips jerk against yours, grinding softly against your core.

The obvious tent in his pants pressing against your clothed pussy, his knees bent just enough so your sexes are only separated by the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Then.” Licking your lips as Vash releases the flesh in his mouth to lick and suck at the skin just beneath it. “Does that mean I’m your bad girl?” With your hand back on his ass, you grind with more enthusiasm against his hard trapped cock, feeling your panties starting to grow wet.

A low growl leaves him, as his hand pushes your shirt up so he work his hand under it and to your front, squeezing one of your tits through the fabric of your bra. “Yea.” Dragging his teeth down your neck, his fangs no doubt leaving two lines of red behind. “And you know what happens to bad girls?” His voice has dropped to that husky octave you love, and your core twinges with a flood of wetness as your arousal grows stronger, more insistent.

“What?” Whispered as if you’re sharing a secret, scrapping your nails along the skin of his head feeling him shudder and his dick twitching in the confines of his pants. You have to wonder if there’s a damp spot growing where his head is, making his boxers stick to his warm skin.

“They get punished” Your knees almost buckle as he bites into the pulse point of your neck, sucking harshly and jerking his hips against yours. Fuck you think you might cum from this alone. All you can do is hold onto him as he humps you through your clothes and keeps the soft skin between his lips.

Mewling at his affection and the throbbing in your core, you don’t want to keep standing here like this. You want him inside of you, anywhere inside of you, just the need to feel more of his skin against yours eating at you like you’re being consumed by the haze of arousal floating in your mind. “Vash, please!” Panting as you grip at him, hips still moving and chasing that high you both want.

Letting your skin go with a wet pop, you hiss the bruise throbbing as the cool air of the room hits it. “Please what Mayfly?” His hand has the fabric of your bra pushing to the side so his fingers can fondle and pinch at your tender flesh directly. Teasing you as he blows against the purple that’s blossoming from his affection, another shiver rakes your body the pleasure making your mind hazy.

But not too hazy to tell him what you want. “I want you Vash, please!” Desperation laces your words, as your hands finally move between your bodies enough sense returning to you to use them for more than just grasping him.

“Hmmm. Fucking is a reward and I don’t think you’ve been good.” You let out a long low whine, as he moves his hand to catch both of yours in his larger one. The thought of him denying you makes part of you clench loving the thought of a long drawn-out session.

Vash has been getting a lot better at being more dominant in the bedroom, no longer the blushing virgin he had first been. He still fumbles but he knows you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you as he explores more of his own sexuality and since that first time, he’s grown to crave any shred of physical intimacy the two of you can partake in.

“Maybe you should punish me more instead?” You try to compromise, falling into the role of a sub because with how wet you are you want some kind of release and any affection he wants to give you might push you over the edge with how rilled up you feel. As his hips jerk against yours once more, you notice the light sheen of sweat near his shaved sideburns. He’s as horny as you are.

A happy little moan as he releases your hands, almost as if in contemplation before he kisses you for the first time since you moved into the room tonight. A kiss you’re happy to deepen as you part your lips to glide and tangle your tongue with his, tasting the remains of his coffee in his mouth. His hand is at your fly, working it open and you take the hint, helping him with his own.

When you break apart it’s a flurry of movement as each of you tosses clothing items away desperate to remove all the barriers between you. When that’s done Vash is pressing against your again, mouth hot on yours and his burning dick trapped between your bodies smearing precum across your lower belly.

As the back of your legs hit the bedframe you fall backward onto the mattress, scrambling more onto it and Vash is quick to follow. Kneeing between your supple thighs and stroking his cock while looking at your soaked pussy. “I’m gonna bring you to the edge until you can’t even scream anymore.” Voice dark you clench in anticipation, licking your lips and moving your hands to rest over the swell of your breasts.

Vash is moving his tip to rub against your folds. Only for the door to make a noise of attempting to open before someone says something on the other side and unlocks it coming in.

You squeal, grabbing the bedding under you and trying to hide your form as a male voice makes an awkward scream of its own. Face blazing as you try and hide and feel Vash doing the same sheltering your lower half with his and grabbing handfuls of the blanket to try and wrap around himself.

“What the hell you two!” Brad bellows, and you refuse to uncover your crimson, flushed face.

“We locked the door!” Vash bellows right back, which would have had more effect if it hadn’t cracked with embarrassment halfway through.

“I swear Brad!” You scream from under the blankets. “You really are a dirty old man!”

“Guh, huh, I mean”

“Get out!” You and Vash yell in tandem and as the door hisses shut you finally move the bedding to look at your lover, who wears a sporting look of red from the base of his neck to the top of his hairline.

This made six times you and Vash stayed home, and six attempted intimate moments ruined by either Brad or Luida walking in on you two. “Are we just, never meant to have sex here?” You mutter knowing neither one of you is going to want to finish after that.

“I’m starting to think no,” Vash answers dragging a hand down his face his erection gone. “Might as well get dressed and see what he wants.”

The next day, Vash’s hand fixed and reconnected the two of you are back in the bay saddling your Tomas. Still frustrated from being interrupted by Brad as you tighten the straps you see Vash looking downcast before mounting his own bird.

Once atop your mount, you reach out across the distance for his flesh hand, having already said goodbye to everyone else on the ship. There was no need to see you both off. “Hey.” You whisper, just loud enough to get his attention.

Smiling hoping it shows all the affection you feel swelling in your heart as you look at your blond boyfriend. “About the marriage thing.” You see a light starting to flicker in those deep pools of blue. “Ask me sometime when you know it’s what you want, I might just think it’s a social contract but I think my answer might surprise you.”

In your own non-romantic, yet sort of romantic way, you’ve told him your answer, and the face-splitting grin that breaks out across his face makes your heart soar. You really do love this idiot, even if his family always screws up you getting lucky with him.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader smut #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash smut #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp #trigun smut #trigun stampede smut #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede x you smut #vash the stampede smut

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jaiambayetchingprocess · 1 year

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The Marvels of PTFE Coating: Non-Stick Wonders Unveiled

Introduction

In the world of coatings, PTFE (Polytetrafluoroethylene) stands out as a marvel of modern engineering. Renowned for its exceptional non-stick properties, PTFE coating services have revolutionized industries, from cookware to manufacturing. But there's more to PTFE coating than just preventing food from sticking to pans. In this article, we will explore the marvels of PTFE coating, its diverse applications, and its unique role in plastic mould texture services.

Understanding PTFE Coating

PTFE, commonly known as Teflon, is a synthetic fluoropolymer that boasts remarkable properties. It is resistant to heat, chemicals, and abrasion. When applied as a coating, PTFE creates a thin film that exhibits outstanding non-stick properties. These characteristics have made PTFE a sought-after material for a wide range of applications.

Non-Stick Cookware

The most recognizable application of PTFE coating is in non-stick cookware. Pans, pots, and bakeware coated with PTFE allow for easy food release, reduced need for oils or fats, and effortless cleaning. Cooking enthusiasts and professional chefs alike rely on PTFE-coated cookware to prepare meals with precision and ease.

Industrial and Manufacturing

PTFE's resilience against heat, chemicals, and friction makes it an invaluable asset in the industrial sector. PTFE coating services are used to protect equipment, machinery, and parts from corrosion, wear, and damage. It extends the lifespan of tools and reduces maintenance costs in industries such as automotive, aerospace, and manufacturing.

Water-Based Coating Service

The use of water-based PTFE coatings as an environmentally benign substitute for conventional solvent-based coatings is growing. A water based coating service reduces hazardous emissions and has a less environmental impact while yet providing the same remarkable non-stick characteristics. This innovation supports the increasing focus on sustainable practices across a range of businesses.

Plastic Mold Texture Services

One of the lesser-known but highly intriguing applications of PTFE coating is in plastic mould texture services. In the manufacturing of plastic components, achieving specific textures and patterns on the molded parts is essential for both aesthetics and functionality. PTFE coating can be precisely applied to mold surfaces, allowing for the creation of intricate and consistent textures on plastic products.

The Marvels of PTFE Coating

Now, let's delve into the marvels of PTFE coating that make it a standout choice in various industries.

Exceptional Non-Stick Properties: PTFE coatings are unparalleled when it comes to preventing adhesion. They reduce friction, resulting in smoother operation and less wear and tear.

Chemical Resistance: PTFE is highly resistant to a wide range of chemicals, acids, and bases, ensuring that coated surfaces remain unaffected even in harsh environments.

Temperature Tolerance: PTFE coatings can withstand extreme temperatures, both high and low, without degrading or losing their non-stick properties.

Durability: PTFE coatings are renowned for their longevity, providing long-lasting protection and performance in challenging conditions.

Finding PTFE Coating Services

When considering PTFE coating services for your specific needs, it's crucial to partner with a reputable provider. Whether you require non-stick cookware, industrial equipment protection, or plastic mold texture services, choose a service provider with a track record of excellence and expertise in PTFE coatings.

Conclusion

PTFE coating, with its exceptional non-stick properties and versatility, continues to amaze across various industries. From the kitchen to manufacturing, its remarkable attributes make it an essential material for countless applications. As the demand for environmentally friendly options grows, water-based PTFE coatings are also emerging as a sustainable choice. So, whether you're cooking up a storm, protecting industrial equipment, or seeking to add intricate textures to plastic products, the marvels of PTFE coating are here to enhance your world.

#PTFE coating services #water based coating service #plastic mould texture services

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bitchysoulwasteland · 1 year

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Thranduil x Modern Soulmate Reader

Word Count: 3,367

Thranduil had always wondered who his soulmate was. But, that didn't apparently matter to his father, who insisted that he married a princess, to strengthen Mirkwood's power. He knew certain bits and pieces about his soulmate. For example, they liked music as they were always humming some tune that only he could hear. Their favourite song was called 'Keep Yourself Alive' by a band apparently called Queen. He also knew that, due to the fact soulmates could see each other's dreams, they did not hail from Middle Earth.

He thought he knew his soulmate well, until one night, he was pulled from his own dream and into a nightmare of war. It was night, he could tell that much. Everything had an eerie green glow as his soulmate looked through an eyepiece for any threats. Within seconds, it went from quiet to deafening. Guns blazed around as a man diffused something. Shots fired from his soulmate hit their mark, even in the darkness. The man jogged back to them, the soldiers regrouping and getting into the vehicle. As his soulmate turned their back, they were hit by something in their right shoulder.

"We need medics at base, a.s.a.p. Sergeant Y/n L/n has been hit. Bullet wound to the shoulder. I repeat, Sergeant Y/n L/n has been hit." A woman's voice spoke over radio. Other shouts for medical treatment echoed in the small space, but, everything was muffled as shouts of 'stay with me, Y/n!' were herd various times.

"Don't you dare die on me, Y/n. This group has been through way too much to lose its best woman." The same female voice said as his soulmate's eyes fell closed.

That was when he woke up, in a cold sweat, his covers in the floor. He moved his hair out of his eyes as he looked around him. He was safe and sound. He worried about his soulmate, searching his brain for her name. The name he had herd when she had been hit. Y/n. Sergeant Y/n L/n. He scribbled her name on a piece of paper and put it on his bedside cabinet for later.

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You woke up in a medical bay, not really any memory of what had happened. You remembered shots. You turned your back and felt as though you had been punched in the back. Adrenaline had kept the pain at bay, now, unfortunately, it had worn off. You tried to sit up as you saw the Lieutenant Colonel walk through the door of the tent.

"Don't get up, Sergeant. I just wanted to give you this." He handed you a letter from HQ. "I also want to thank you for your service to the nation. You've done immensely well. You should be proud." You knew he had herd about your resignation from the Army, probably from HQ. You also knew that although he pretended to be cold, he was actually a nice person on the inside.

"Thank you, sir." You said.

"Good luck with civilian life, Y/n. I mean it. Bluestone 42 won't be the same without you. As you were."

"Thank you, sir." You said as he walked out of the tent with a nod.

Six weeks of recovery and a day of travelling later, you were unlocking your London house, after two years of not touching it. You put your bags by the door, took off your uniform cap, coat and boots, leaving them beside your bag, before turning the electric back on, by the meter, along with the water and central heating. You put the kettle on and flumped onto the sofa, exhaustion draining from your body. No sooner had the kettle boiled was there a knock at the door. Reluctantly, you answered it. You couldn't quite believe what you were seeing. Thranduil. From The Hobbit. Or, at least an extremely good lookalike.

"May I help you?"

"My name is Thranduil and I was hoping that you could show me the quickest way back to Middle Earth." You raised an eyebrow in complete disbelief. "I'm only asking as yours was the first house I came across."

"Hate to break it to you, but as much as I would love for fictional worlds to be real, they're not. Nice costume, though Halloween isn't until October, Barbie."

"What is this 'Halloween' you speak of, and who is this 'Barbie', mortal?" Okay. Maybe he was the real deal.

"It's a time when people put up decorations of pumpkins and ghosts, witches, ghouls, goblins and other magical stuff. And Barbie, is a kids toy. She's a doll with long blonde hair."

"Aside from the toy, why would anyone want to worship goblins?" You saw the hatred. No, disgust in his eyes and remembered the movies.

"The goblins aren't worshipped. It's about remembering dead relatives. The goblins and all of that are just meant to scare kids. You look freezing, come in. I can't promise a way back to Middle Earth, but I can make a decent meal." You said before hid did so. You closed the door behind him.

"You're very kind to a stranger.."

"Y/n. Sergeant Y/n L/n." He took off his shoes by the door "Just through here." You noticed the state of his robes. "D'you want me to get you some clean clothes? I should have some somewhere."

"What's wrong with my royal robes." He stated, matter of factly as he stood in his socks, still looking regal.

"You can't really go walking around on earth in robes, mate. You'll be a laughing stock. Besides, they're muddy." You walked upstairs as he followed close behind. You walked into your bedroom and began looking for the clothes. You went in your drawers and pulled out a stonewash blue Guns n Roses t-shirt, passing it to him. Then, you found the birthday presents that you had never given your family, as you had signed up for service. A navy blue hoodie and black denim jeans, along with a leather belt. The bathroom is just across there. You said as he went to go and change. You noticed that you were still in uniform, so you swiftly changed into jeans, a Queen t-shirt and a grey Rolling Stones hoodie.

You walked out of the room at the same time Thranduil did. "Where would you like me to put these?" He asked as you took the sight in. He looked hotter than you'd seen him on the films in normal clothes. And the hoodie and jeans were doing everything for his look. He looked at you, slightly surprised at how good someone could look in such simple clothes.

"Erm, just leave 'em on there and I'll was them for you." You said, gesturing to the wash basket. He placed his folded clothes on the basket. "So, what kind of food do you like?" You asked as you both walked downstairs and into the kitchen to see what you had got, food wise.

"I don't mind. In Mirkwood, we usually have majority of Middle Earth's cuisines." Ok now he was just showing off. You looked in fridge, freezer and the cupboards, but other than some icicles and some cups, there was nothing.

"I haven't been here in about two years since I went in the Army. We could order food in?" You tried the house phone, which had been disconnected. "Let's go out to eat." You said as you grabbed your keys from the shelf above the kitchen counter. The pair of you walked to the door. You slipped your converse on as he put on his boots. Luckily, the trousers covered most of the shins of them. Thranduil was about to undo the door when you stopped him. "C'mere. If you have your hair like that, someone's bound to notice you're not human." You said as he stepped closer to you, so you were face to chest, due to his height. You got up on the bottom step behind him. You tied his hair in a low bun before stepping in front of him to tease a few strands to cover the points of his ears. "Perfect." You whispered as you locked eyes with him, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him right then and there. You cleared your throat as a blush made its way across your cheeks. "We should be going." You muttered, not trusting your own voice.

On the walk around the path to your car, he slipped his hand in yours. You looked at the floor, trying to hide your face, by instinct. Thranduil stopped walking. You stopped a foot after him. He turned you so you were looking at him. "I've waited years to meet you, Y/n. I've never met anyone like you. This is probably premature, but, I love you." He whispered before he lent in and kissed you. You didn't have to stand on your toes with him. His arms pulled you closer by your waist as yours went around his neck. Images of both of your pasts flashed before both of your eyes. He was the one. Your soulmate. You had only ever been told that you would see images of each other's pasts. You didn't think it was true, until then. After what felt like a lifetime, you pulled away for air.

"I love you too, Thran." He smirked at the nickname you gave him, a smile on your own lips. You felt something fall on your head, and within moments, you were standing out in the pouring rain with Thranduil. "This is gonna be so cliché, but, wanna dance in the rain?" You asked as you took his had and led him to the middle of the now empty car park. Holding you close, you both waltzed around the area, until a car horn pulled you from the romantic moment. You both ran to your car and you unlocked it as you both opened the doors and got into the dry. "That was the most fun I've had in ages." You breathed as you ran a hand though your wet hair. Turning the engine on, you began to drive. Noticing the time, you had a better plan than to drive to a fancy restraint that you could undoubtedly not afford. Houses and buildings fell back from the scenery as you drove along the M25 from London. Soon enough, you found a service station. You went into the McDonalds Drive Thru and ordered two Big Mac meals and two McFlurries.

Half an hour later, you were back on the road again.

Thranduil couldn't help but stare at you as he took in your features. Your h/c hair was curling slightly at your temples, from being wet. Your e/c eyes gleamed as you watched the road whilst talking to him.

"So, back in Middle Earth, what do you do?"

"I'm prince if Mirkwood. I ride elks and horses and I have to attend the most boring gatherings ever."

"So, the usual royalty stuff then." You laughed. "All heirs and graces, yeah?" You said in a faux posh accent.

He couldn't help but laugh along with you "Something like that, yes, meleth." He watched how your laugh lit up your features "What do you do?"

"Well, I was an aspiring singer and dancer. But, I couldn't get any roles or attention from the big names I needed to. I was loosing money, fast. I was on the brink of loosing everything. The house, this car. So, I found an option. I joined the army and became an ATO in Afghanistan. It wasn't the first choice, or the cosy one, but it was to help people, and to help myself." He looked at you sympathetically but blankly as you figured he wouldn't know what you were talking about after the word ATO. "Bomb disposal." He still looked at you blankly. "I was a soldier. Until I resigned."

"What made you resign?"

"Job lost its appeal, I s'pose. I tell you what, if I had the gift of foresight I wouldn't have made half of the mistakes I did." You drove I silence for a while, until your SatNav tells you that you have reached your destination. You parked the car on the seafront and got out of it before locking it. "I hope you like the sea, your highness, cos here we are. The White Cliffs Of Dover." You put a blanket over the bonnet and sat beside Thranduil. You then pulled the corners of the large blanket over you both, his arms pulling you into his lap.

"It's beautiful." He said, resting his chin on your shoulder as you leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, watching the sunrise over the sea.

When the sun had risen higher, you spoke again "Y'see that dark line on the horizon that starts there and ends just there," you pointed "that's France. There's a song about these cliffs. And a story. When pilots were flying back to England during the Second World War, they would look for these cliffs and know that they were home." You didn't say anymore, instead, you began singing.

"There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see I'll never forget the people I met Braving those angry skies I remember well as the shadows fell The light of hope in their eyes And though I'm far away I still can hear them say "Thumbs up!" For when the dawn comes up There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see There'll be love and laughter And peace ever after Tomorrow, when the world is free The shepherd will tend his sheep The valley will bloom again And Jimmy will go to sleep In his own little room again I may not be near, but I have no fear History will prove it too When the tale is told It will be as of old For truth will always win through; But be I far or near That slogan still I'll hear "Thumbs up!" For when the dawn comes up There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see

When night shadows fall, I'll always recall Out there across the sea Twilight falling down on some little town It's fresh in my memory I hear mother pray And to her baby say "Don't cry!" This is her lullaby There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see."

Thranduil looked at you with pure adoration as you finished the song. He took off one of the rings he was wearing and put it on your hand. You took your phone out and took a picture of the two of you, the cliffs in the background, made it your lock screen, then took a picture of the sunset before falling asleep in your love's arms.

"That was magnificent, my sergeant."

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It had been three months since you had woken up alone. You hadn't entirely expected him to be there when you woke up. He had put you in the back seats of your car, the blanket over you. But, what you hadn't accounted for was the loneliness you felt when you woke up alone. You shouldn't have fallen for him. Even if he was the one. The only thing you had left of him was his robes and the ring he gave you.

To get your mind off of the Elvenking, you went for a walk in your local forest. But, halfway through the forest, you tripped and fell. When you got up, you were no longer where you had fallen. You recognised the all too familiar shadow of the ruins of Dale a few meters before you. You were in the Battle Of Five Armies. Thankfully, the battle had not yet begun. You got onto your feet, noticing the rip in the jeans and the crack in your phone screen as it had fallen from your pocket. You ignored both. If you were in the third Hobbit movie, then that means that you had a chance of seeing Thranduil again. Running as fast as your body would allow, you made it into Dale. You stopped to catch your breath as you looked around you. The people of Laketown were preparing for battle. You silently thanked whoever controlled the universe when you saw armour clad elves.

You were about to move when shouts came your way. "Oi." You tried to ignore the voice, belonging to Alfred. "We don't want any more beggars 'ere. Or any more wizards or vagabonds." With every word, you took a step away from him.

"I'm here to see Thranduil. I'm from Rohan. I owe him a great deal of gratitude after he helped save my sister a short while ago from illness and most likely death, and I intend on seeing him to thank him once more." You just hoped that you had sounded convincing enough to pass for an inhabitant of Middle Earth with the whopping lie you just told.

He looked at you sceptically. "Follow me." He said as you did just that. He led you to a yellow tent.

"What do you want now, Alfred?" Bard said in a bored tone.

"There is a woman here that claims to be from Rohan. She said that the king of Mirkwood saved her sister from death, so she would like to show her gratitude." Thranduil looked up from his wine glass, not remembering doing any such thing.

"If you touch me with your grubby little mitts once more, I'll be your next big issue." Thranduil herd this as Alfred kept one hand on the woman, who was just out of sight.

"Send her in." Thranduil said, knowing your voice anywhere.

"As you wish." The man stated, pushing you inside the tent, tripping you up in the process, before walking off.

"Arsehole." You muttered as you dropped your phone for the second time today.

"How do I know that you're my Sergeant L/n?" He gazed at you, as if looking for a fault that you were not the same woman he had been ripped from the arms of by fate and someone's magic.

"I met you on my doorstep, half an hour after I had just got back from being posted in Afghanistan. You stood in front of me and told me who you were. I didn't believe you at first. Until I spoke about Halloween and called you Barbie and you had no idea what I was on about. I offered you food, but then saw I had no food cos I hadn't been back for two years. I tied your hair in a bun. You were wearing the blue hoodie. Then, then went out and danced in the rain until we were soaked. We went to McDonalds and both had a Big Mac meal and McFlurries. We then drove to Dover and I showed you where France was. I sang the White Cliffs Of Dover song as the sun rose. And you gave me this ring." You said as he walked over to you and kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do. You pulled away and spoke "It's only been three months, Thran."

"It's been three thousand years, my sergeant. I don't plan on ever letting you go again. It's not a coincidence that we met twice. Marry me, please Y/n, you've already got the ring."

You looked into his eyes, knowing you were safe "I'll marry you, Thranduil." you smiled as he kissed you once more.

#thranduil x reader #soulmate au #thranduil fanfiction #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader

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gasterofficial · 2 years

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@kanrix too many pictures to put in a reply or anything so i'm just gonna make a post FHLDSKJFHDLSKf this also goes out to anyone else who could benefit from my little gaster cosplay tutorial fhjkghkfg

aight this is the earliest picture i have but basically I cut an oval out of 4mm foam, and used scrap pieces of the same size foam that i just had laying around to do another layer on top for added support and thickness. after that i did my best to roughly mark where my eyes, nose and mouse were and cut the eyes out so that they would line up with my own, and used the markings for the mouth and nose to cut a hole into the inside of the mask for my nose to fit into. the mask has a higher layer of foam only on the very tip of the nose because i had to keep my nose from sticking out or pushing the mask too far off my face lol.

anyway after all of that i used a heat gun to heat the foam (WITHOUT melting it and preferably in a well-ventilated area) on both sides and then held it to my face in position to help it mold better to the shape of my head. it looked like this when i was done (i also cut into the upper layer of foam to make the eye scars)

after that I covered the entire thing with this amazing thing called foam-mo, it's basically like foam in a water-based binder that behaves like craft clay. it's easy to work with and SUPER lightweight when it dries and it's absolutely perfect for making organic textures

it lost a bit of the dimensionality in the drips after it dried, but I just went over it with another layer where I wanted more texture, and used a dremel tool with a sanding bit to sand down parts that I wanted more depressed.

then after that were the first and second paint jobs. this included using an ultra dark carbon nanotube ink in the scars to get them as black as possible (and matte). after the second paint job I used a type of fabric called "speaker cloth" to cover up the eye and mouth holes. I hot glued the speaker cloth down from the inside and then painted over the fabric on both sides with fabric stiffener on the mouth hole ONLY (it can make it harder to see through the eye holes) since the mouth hole is so wide and is most subject to the shape distortion from how the mask was heat-shaped.

then finally the last paint job which included final shading touchups AND some extra work with white puffy paint, which I used to give the effect of the face dripping down.

the very last step was adding the pupils as a dot of intense blue glow in the dark paint. it took a few coats to get it thick enough, and then on top of the bead of glow in the dark paint i added a tiny dot of plain white paint to make them pop even more. add a 1/2 inch elastic strap around the back of the mask glued down on the inside and you're done!

also, here's some pictures of the first glove I painted, if the reference would be helpful. The gloves were sewn using a self-made "hand turkey" pattern from tracing the shape of my hand onto paper. it's not a perfect pattern, but it's serviceable enough for stretchy fabrics. and I did use a stretchy fabric: white moisture-wicking athletic wear fabric, because I was worried my hands would sweat a lot. and I was right! but this choice of fabric makes that much less of a problem. and also makes you feel like your hands are freezing off (being in the void simulator ig)

the painting job was done with just plain black and white acrylics mixed with a fabric paint medium. i traced the finger joints where my fingers actually creased, and just kind of... did my best to make the palm holes match up lmfao

As for the cloak and robe, I did sew those both myself, so I can't point you to a seller. BUT what I CAN do is tell you what patterns and fabrics I used and whether or not it was worth the intense labor of love! (short answer, for the cloak? yes! for the robe? NO.) I'd have to go dig up the patterns though, so let me know if that's of interest to anybody

but yeah, hope this post is informative and potentially helpful!

#mine #my art #art #cosplay #gaster #undertale #deltarune #utdr #w.d. gaster #cosplay tutorial #gaster cosplay #long post

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ficklefics · 8 months

Text

Obsessed - Part 4: Mind and Again

Your life with Jeremiah is faultless. Perfect. And yet that voice persists in the distant part of your mind: Something is wrong.

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

PART 3

Requested by @vayereliyanin

Warnings: Self harm, Implied torture and brainwashing, Stalking, Nudity

Flour. Sugar. Eggs. Milk. A pinch of salt.

Whisk. Whisk. Whisk until the batter’s smooth.

A pan on the hob. Gentle heat. Be careful not to burn yourself. A ladle and a half. Let it coat the pan evenly. Wait. Flip. Wait. Slide it onto the plate and cover.

Pan. Ladle. Wait. Flip. Wait.

The pattern was simple. The pattern was good. It was easy to follow. No need to deviate. No need to think. It was Sunday morning and on Sunday mornings we have crepes.

The mixing bowl was empty by the time the door opened behind you. A cool hand on your waist and a kiss on your cheek in greeting.

“Good morning, sweetness.” You smiled at the pet name, at Jeremiah.

“Good morning.” Allowing yourself only a moment to lean into his touch, you pulled away. “Help me with my apron?”

His hands deftly untied the bow at your back, lifted the apron over your head and discarded it to the side. It was those simple moments that you loved most, the gentle acts of service that were so characteristic of him. You picked up the crepes and turned with them in your hands. He was smiling at you, practically glowing with love. He took the plate and carried it to the table, freeing you to bring the jar of homemade raspberry compote. He sat at the head, with you to his right, and let you shift the crepe from the top of the pile onto his plate, offering him the jar and a spoon.

“Thank you my dear.” You served yourself and began eating, knowing he wouldn’t start before you were a few bites in. He was so patient, so generous. You ate in a companionable silence. It was only after finishing his plate that he spoke: “Delicious as always.” He rested a hand on yours, holding it tight. “I must go to work now, but I’ll see you this evening. If you behave, I may even bring you a gift.” You couldn’t hide the excitement on your face. You never went without, never wanted for anything, but the idea of something special, of some kind of treat, set your heart fluttering. “If you behave, of course.” Suddenly he was serious. The grip on his hand just a little too strong. But you didn’t flinch. You simply nodded, pulling back your grin to a more restrained smile. You knew Jeremiah meant well. That he only cared for keeping you safe, protecting you. That sometimes that desire overcame him and made him go too far. It wasn’t his fault.

“Of course.” He stood and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “I hope you have a good day, love.” He smiled at that.

The dishes were cleaned, the floors swept, chores all done. There were still a few hours before Jeremiah would be home from work.

More than enough time for a relaxing bath.

Water gushed from the tap in a steaming torrent. You dripped in essential oils, lit candles, poured bubble bath until the bath was a luxury of foam and lavender. You slipped from your jeans, your blouse, left them neatly folded on the counter. Twisted your hair up and away from the nape of your neck. Climbed in and sunk into ecstasy.

A whole hour in peace and relaxation. When the water began to prick goosebumps along your skin, you stood and stepped out, wrapping the thick towelling robe around your body. You left the bathroom into the bedroom and sat at the dressing table to stare at your reflection. Damp hair hung around your face in tangles. Loose like this, it failed to hide the marks on your temples. They had always been there. Birth marks, you were sure. Almost symmetrical. Red spots, almost like abrasions. But not. Birth marks. They were birth marks. Almost unconsciously, a hand drifted under to the base of your skull, to the thin ridge that wound its way from ear to ear. The line was so narrow you almost forgot about it in the day to day. Almost. An accident with hair straighteners when you were younger and more reckless. An accident. That was all.

You shook yourself away and reached for your hairdryer and brush. The routine of blow-drying and styling was well-practiced, almost robotic. By the end of it every unsightly thing was hidden away and there wasn’t a hair out of place. There never was.

Wake up. Monday. Oatmeal. Write the shopping list. Pasta. Sleep.

Wake up. Tuesday. Omelettes. Stock the pantry. Steak. Sleep.

Wake up. Wednesday. Croissants. Clean the bathrooms. Soup. Sleep.

Wake up. Thursday. Scrambled eggs. Wash the floors. Fish. Sleep.

Wake up. Friday. French toast. Read. Chicken. Sleep.

Wake up. Saturday. Croque monsieur. Spend time together. Sushi. Sleep.

Wake up. Sunday. Crepes. Clean the kitchen. Roast beef. Sleep.

Wake up.

You were not a restless sleeper. You closed your eyes at 11pm and woke up at 6am. Like clockwork. So why were your eyes wide open and staring after you had lain down.

In the dark, the ceiling almost seemed to swirl. Or maybe it was your brain. Spots darker and brighter, inflating and shrinking, twisting and turning around each other in strange patterns. You couldn’t stop watching though you longed for your eyes to close and morning to come.

Jeremiah’s body next to yours was still. Sometimes you joked to yourself that, when he was asleep, he was indistinguishable to a corpse. Only the very slight rise and fall of his chest proved that he was still alive.

Just lay still. Don’t let him know you’re awake.

You weren’t sure why the thought of Jeremiah realising you weren’t sleeping as normal was so terrifying to you. Surely the man who loved you would be worried for your insomnia. A hazy memory of sleeping pills rose to the surface of your mind. A time when you had been plagued by sleeplessness, when… when…

And as soon as it had appeared, the memory was gone. Almost like a dream. Perhaps it was. Perhaps you were already asleep.

Flour. Sugar. Eggs. Eggs. Eggs. Milk. A pinch of salt.

Whisk. Whisk. Whisk until the batter’s smooth.

Whisk. Whisk. Eggshells. Whisk. Not smooth.

A pan on the hob. Gentle heat. Hotter. A bright flame. Fascinating colours flickering against the metal. Careful. Touch it.

It hurts. Hurts. Sensation. Hold onto it. You don’t feel anymore. But you feel this. He takes this from you. The pain. Take it back. Feel it. Hurt. Hurt.

You don’t realise you’re screaming until your hand is being pulled away and forced under a cool stream of running water. Jeremiah is at your side, hushing you, brushing away the sobs, holding your trembling form against his body. Holding you tight so you won’t slip away.

He murmurs comforting words as he sits you down and soothes the burns with a salve. The sensitive and fragile skin of your hand is now red and raw, blistering at spots. It twitches in his grasp. You haven’t spoken. You’re not sure what you’re meant to say. What you’re supposed to say. This doesn’t happen, it shouldn’t happen.

It happened.

Jeremiah was talking, but more to himself than you.

“Easy to fix, just a simple problem. Something I didn’t notice the first time. Not to worry, you’ll be good as new.”

The first time. Good as new.

Good as new.

He walked away, came back, gave you a glass of cloudy water. Under the intensity of his gaze, you drank it all.

“Let’s get you back to bed.” He helped you up from the seat, down the corridor. Changed your clothes for pyjamas and tucked you under the silken sheets. He stroked your hair as your mind grew hazy. “I’ll make you right as rain, my sweet. You’ll be yourself.”

Darkness. A single bright light. Was this death? Had you died?

No. Death couldn’t be this painful.

But it could definitely be this lonely.

All that you had was that voice in your head. The voice that was yours, and yet not yours. Screaming at you. You weren’t sure what for.

She couldn’t help you. There was nothing to be helped. This was it.

The bathwater was tepid. You couldn’t remember how long you had been soaking in it, but your fingertips had shrivelled in the damp. You were staring at the door. At the brighter spot of paint, newer than the rest of it. The slight gouges near the handle, the painted over screw holes. There had never been a lock there. You were sure of it. There was no need to lock each other out. So why…

The thought was disrupted by a jolt of pain that shot through your head. You winced, resisting the urge to cry out. Scrambling, almost panicking, you threw yourself from the bath and escaped to the bedroom, still naked and dripping water on the plush carpet. You gripped the dressing table, knuckles white. In the mirror your cheeks were pale. The birth marks darker. Stress? Must be. Stress. What stress? What was there in this life to stress you? Every day was the same, nothing ever unexpected, nothing to scare you or surprise you. So why did you feel so afraid?

The sound of the door handle turning made you spin around, heart pounding in your chest and brain pounding in your skull.

Jeremiah closed the door behind him with a click. His pale eyes took you in, stood there, exposed. An unnameable shiver ran up your spine.

“Isn’t this a surprise.” Was it surprise in his voice? Or something else?

“Jeremiah. I was just getting changed. I didn’t realise you were home.” You walked slowly towards the hook on the bathroom door where a silken robe hung. You reached for it, eager for the protection it offered.

“Wait.” You froze mid-movement. He stalked towards you. Stalked? That was the word that came to mind? Why? Now he was beside you. A cold hand rested on your skin, tracing the contours of your body, a path of goosebumps appearing in its wake. This was unusual. Jeremiah was not a physical man. Affectionate, sure, but he had never expressed interest in anything further than that. It wasn’t a problem for you. You couldn’t remember the last time you had wanted someone to touch you. This sensation was unfamiliar. Distant. Unwelcome.

He cradled the back of your head. It almost felt as though his fingers were probing the scar that sat there. He examined your face, eyes giving away nothing. You could never know what he was thinking. When he kissed you, you wanted it to feel like love. And it did, in a way. It felt like his love. Like possession. Like ownership. Like… like…

Before you could find the word, he pulled away. A gentler kiss on the forehead. “Get dressed. It’s almost time for dinner.”

What day was it? Tuesday. Stock the pantry.

Stock. Stock the pantry.

You didn’t.

You wandered. Wandered the halls like a ghost. Unending. Lost. You could taste blood in your mouth. When you touched your tongue, your saliva was clear. You felt like Theseus in the labyrinth. Bound by an invisible string, drawn to doom. Searching for something you couldn’t remember. These doors were so familiar yet so, so distant. Like a dream. Like a nightmare.

You had stopped in front of one. It opened to reveal a security room. Nobody there. Nobody watching the wall of screens showing the view of the cameras that were watching you. You took a shaky step over the threshold. The door closed behind you. The screens approached and engulfed your vision. That voice in the back of your mind was even louder now.

There was a phone. Jeremiah didn’t have phones. You didn’t need them. Everyone you needed to speak to was here. So why was there a phone?

You reached for it. Dialled a number. The number. Listened to the ringing.

A bored voice. “GCPD.”

“Hello.” The word almost became trapped in your throat. You couldn’t remember the last time you spoke to anyone else.

“Hello? Ma’am, this is a priority number. What do you want?”

“My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” It was important to say. You weren’t sure why.

The voice swore, then there was a clatter, and shouting. Then another voice, one that was familiar.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes. I- I don’t-”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at home.” Were you? Were you at home? Or was this place something else, something more insidious? Something was very, very wrong.

“Look, hold on. Just don’t hang up. We’re going to find you. Just… Just hold on.”

You were still holding the phone when the building shook with footsteps. Still holding the phone when the door slammed open. Still holding the phone when the familiar face of a man you didn’t recognise appeared beside you.

“It’s okay, (Y/N). You’re safe now.”

“Was I in danger?”

Yes. Yes, you were.

This apartment was small. Bedroom, toilet, living area and kitchen combined. Barred windows that barely opened. 3 bolts and 4 chains on the door. Police in the hallway and outside the building day and night. It was more of a prison than the maze had ever been. But you finally felt free. You hadn’t realised you’d felt trapped.

Your mind was starting to piece things together. Your other life, your real life, was still a haze, but it was within reach. And every day Jeremiah was further away.

Did you miss him? You felt his absence. You weren’t sure it was the same thing.

But he was never that far, not really. The marks on your temples – those you now knew to be electrical burns – were fading, but still sore. The scar – from surgery – easy to ignore, but still present.

And when you looked out of your window, you felt him watching you. You never saw him. Never a glimpse of dark hair, of leather gloves, of pale, pale skin.

But he would never be gone.

MASTERLIST

#gotham #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska/reader #gotham x reader #gotham/reader #reader insert

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captainlilyuniverseworld · 2 months

Text

Worth the Wait

Based on the request by @vr53 who asked for Gale proposing to Astarion and Astarion's feelings leading up to the moment thinking back on their relationship.

Happy reading! ❤️

Worth the Wait

“What’s this?” Gale looked at the small box Astarion had put on the table in front of him.

“Why don’t you open it and find out,” Astarion sat on the edge of the table and nudged it towards him. “Go on. I had it made especially for you.”

Gale put down his fork and moved his plate aside before picking up the box and untying the red ribbon he’d put around it. It was small and when he opened it, inside was a ring. A gold band with a ruby center and diamonds on either side of the gem.

“I…”

“I’ve been so busy with work that I realized I have neglected the most important thing to me,” Astarion reached over and tucked some of Gale’s hair behind his ear. “My wonderful consort.”

Gale managed a small smile. “It’s beautiful Astarion really, but I...it’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Nonsense,” Astarion plucked the box from his hands and took out the ring. “How else are people going to see that you’re mine?”

He took Gale’s hand and slid the ring onto Gale’s finger, pleased with himself. “Ah, perfect fit. I was worried I’d have to have it resized, I guessed a bit on the measurement. And you want to know the best part?”

“Everyone knows I’m yours?” Gale asked.

“I’ve had it enchanted,” Astarion answered as he squeezed Gale’s hand. “The only way it comes off is if I take it off or you did something foolish like cut your finger off…”

Foolish...yes…

****

“Gale? Darling?” Astarion shut the door behind him as he walked into the palace and took off his coat.

It’d been a longer than long day and all he wanted to do was have a nice soak with Gale. A little snack and fall asleep with his mage wrapped up tight in his arms. He walked into the main room and saw his office door was closed.

He didn’t hear any sound coming from inside. He checked the kitchen next, sometimes when the mage got a bit antsy he’d do a bit of cooking, but it was empty. He knew it about midweek which meant Gale would have been out in Rivington that day but usually he was home by that point.

“Gale?” Astarion called out. “If you wanted to play hide and seek it’s a good idea to let the other party involved aware of the game.”

He started down the hall leading towards the doors that led out to the garden when they opened of their own accord and Gale paused like a deer seeing a hunter. Astarion eyed him curiously.

His heart rate had sped up briefly upon seeing Astarion before it steadied itself. There were dirt stains on the knees of his pants. His hair pulled back into a messy bun with a few silver strands framing his face.

“You're home,” Gale blinked as if his brain was catching up and then he smiled and shut the door behind him as he walked over to greet Astarion. “Welcome home love.”

“What were you doing out there this late?” Astarion looked between Gale and the door leading to the backyard.

“Hmm? Oh nothing really, taking care of some weeds,” Gale answered. “I was on my way in to clean up.”

“Well, allow me to be of service,” Astarion snaked his arm around Gale, steering the man towards the staircase.

Gale freshened up first while Astarion got the bath ready. Not too hot, he may have been able to withstand the scalding temperature of the water but Gale was only human. It wouldn't do to burn his skin.

He got in first letting out a pleased groan as the water soothed his muscles and held out his hand to Gale once his mage had undressed and walked over. He leaned back against Astarion and shivered as he hugged him tight to his chest.

“How was your day?” Gale turned his head slightly to look at Astarion.

“Hardly worth thinking about,” Astarion answered and stroked Gale’s chest. “I swear I might be the only one with a brain on that council.”

“You are intelligent,” Gale agreed. “Though I admit I’m surprised you haven’t tried to charm any of them.”

“There’s still time,” Astarion titled his head back and closed his eyes. “How was your day my love?”

“Mundane,” Gale shrugged and Astarion listened to the sound of the water sloshing in the tub and felt the mage moving around before settling once more in his lap, knees on either side of him and then fingers running up and down his chest.

They moved upwards towards his throat, and he groaned pleased as Gale squeezed the nape of his neck massaging the sides with his fingers.

“You really are magic,” Astarion sighed.

“I was thinking…” Gale started.

“Dangerous,” Astarion teased. “You’re far too pretty to think.”

Keep Reading

#baldur's gate 3 #gale x astarion #bloodweave #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #bg3 #dark consort gale #vampire ascendant astarion

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loudblonde · 2 years

Text

"A little wolf and its handler" Simon "Ghost" Riley & Male Reader & John "Soap" MacTavish

Summary: (Y/N) is a werewolf who has to hide it from everyone and has been with success. His curse makes him a valuable asset that the military isn't willing to let go of. But what happens when (Y/N) gets targeted by a hunter? And why is Ghost suddenly in front of him?

Warnings: Cod Typical violence, body horror (only a bit), Alzheimer's disease. angst in the end. Werewolves live longer then humans and age slower

word count: 2,4K

Many mortal men often whispered of rage, a desire to go berserk and the ability to blindly kill. They think of themselves as akin to apex predators. But in reality, their self-confidence and sense of self-worth are that of a meek mouse dressing up as a wolf and like mice they breed more and more of their kind, spreading their diseased and infected worldview to more and more.

(Y/N) wasn’t an imposter, no, he didn’t have the time nor the energy to worry. He hadn’t had it for years.

The way his bones broke at every mission, his skin tearing and stretching thinner and thinner as the hair grew out. Painful and necessary. A true monster against those who seek to hurt, those who wish death on others. Perhaps (Y/N) was the same as them. After all, he did kill them and did end up ripping them apart but oh how they tasted wonderfully. Their blood and flesh coated his teeth not only as the beast, the monster but also as the man.

(Y/N) overlooked the room covered in enemy combatants. It was cold out, (Y/N) could see his own breath and yet he still felt the raging inferno roar beneath his skin. It demanded more blood, more pain and more food.

“Beast, come in, are you done?” His headpiece hung around his neck, it almost fell off his shoulders. (Y/N) lifted it up and pressed the talk button.

“Yes, it’s done, send in the recon team.” (Y/N) spoke, his voice still holding onto the growl as though (Y/N) was capable or even willing of letting go of his other side.

(Y/N) stepped outside, the ice beneath his feet cooled his blood and quenched his desire for murder and death. (Y/N) let go of a sigh. The wind tore into his body and froze the blood on his skin. (Y/N) walked past the soldiers trying their very best to not look at the fully naked soldier who was walking past them with no problems. (Y/N) never felt the effects of the cold, not in human form or beast form. He glanced at the tundra, knowing if he wanted to, he could run and never be found, he could give in and live freely… but he shouldn’t and couldn’t. The tracker in his neck made sure of that.

(Y/N) entered the tent that was mercifully set up for him and showered, the blood rinsed off him and fell down, staining the snow red. (Y/N) didn’t care, it was the same as always. Ice cold water followed by clothes he had worn for the past few days. At least, he could get back to his usual team. The 141. He missed Price, he hadn’t been with them in a few months, hopefully, they weren’t on a mission.

The team didn’t know about (Y/N), only Price knew. (Y/N)’s lycanthropy was a government secret. Need to know only. Soldiers he worked with were told ‘You will see something tonight that will shake you to your core and you will forget it, it never happened.’ (Y/N) couldn’t care less if they were told or not, he knew he was safe, and he knew that as long as he was of service, the military wouldn’t let him die. He was too precious of an asset and where else could he go to get enough food? He had already tried starving, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

(Y/N) now, fully undressed walked out of the tent and walked to the mission commanders, he gave his report and was ushered away and onto a helicopter before the weather became worse.

A short plane ride and he was home, back on base and in a less cold but just as miserable place. England. (Y/N) walked off the plane and greeted a few people with a nod. He was more than happy to be home.

(Y/N) noticed Soap first and smirked. “Aye McTavish!” He yelled and watched as Soap turned around.

“(L/N)!” He greeted him and walked towards him. They hugged tightly. (Y/N) was the first to pull away fully. “How chaotic has it been since I left?”

“Too chaotic. But hey, we are getting a new member, Price is showing ‘em around.” Soap said.

“A new member, huh. Well, that is always interesting, I will drop off my bag and find Ghost, he is probably sulking in someplace people don’t think to look.” (Y/N) said.

“How do you always manage to find him?” Soap asked.

(Y/N) chuckled and leaned down to whisper. “I call it my Ghost Radar. I always know where he is hiding.” He said before winking at Soap. “I will say hi to your boyfriend for you!” He called as he walked off.

(Y/N) didn’t know why but his nose itched, there was a scent from the new guy that was just wrong, he hadn’t even seen him and (Y/N) was already ready to tear his own nose out. But he didn’t. He had self-control, which one should have if he was a beast.

(Y/N) dropped his bag off and followed Ghost’s scent outside and all the way to someplace isolated. He pulled himself up on the roof and sat next to Ghost who was reading.

“Good mission?” Ghost asked his voice monotone as always.

“I didn’t get shot.” (Y/N) said, mimicking the monotone voice.

Ghost chuckled a bit and closed the book. “Have you seen the new guy?”

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, but something seems wrong, I can’t explain it.”

Ghost looked at him, those beautiful amber pools sat carefully behind the mask. “I guess we'll just have to see what he brings to the table.”

“Hm, true.” (Y/N) stood up. “By the way, your boyfriend says hi.” (Y/N) smirked and jumped off the roof, landing in a perfect roll without any damage to himself. He ignored Ghost’s yells as he ran, content to be the one chased for a moment.

A dull thud came from behind him, signalling Ghost was hot on his tail.

(Y/N) managed to get inside and lock the door, so Ghost would have to go the long way around. (Y/N) started walking, making it into the common area where Price and the new recruit stood.

His smell was making (Y/N) itch all over, as though he was allergic to the man's presence.

“Ah, Valentine, I want you to meet Sergeant (Y/N) ‘Beast’ (L/N), he has just returned from a mission… Beast, did you get Ghost to chase you again.” Price asked, sounding like a tired dad that just wants his kids to behave.

(Y/N) rubbed his eyes as they started to burn. “Affirmative sir.” He said before coughing. “Valentine, what kind of perfume do you use?! It’s burning me up.”

Price didn't react fast enough as Valentine pulled a gun and shot (Y/N) in the chest.

(Y/N) fell back as he felt the burning sensation hit his bloodstream. Pure seething anger pooled from the wound and took over his entire body. (Y/N)’s hands twitched before he snarled and growled deeply.

His vision went red. Fueled only by the anger and fear of being hurt, like a cornered animal, (Y/N) began the transformation, faster than he had ever before and on too little sleep. It was a recipe for disaster.

His arms broke and fixed themselves over and over again. His skin blistered and stretched, turning darker than the night itself, where the skin had once been carefully cared for with creams and tender self-love, now stood leather-like calloused bulges of muscle. The beast rose up, bones breaking and rebreaking yet he couldn’t think, wouldn’t think. He was simply gone, replaced by a need to protect and kill.

The beast opened its eyes and glared at the shooter, shouts of his name and orders not to hurt the hulking monster went unheard by it.

As the beast was about to jump forward and tear the throat of the man out, a familiar white mask appeared in front of him.

“Stand down.” The command was simple and it broke through the rage. An ear twitched as the beast stopped up, looking down at Ghost.

Ghost, either the world's luckiest man or the biggest idiot with plot armour, held a hand up and pointed at the ground like you would with any dog. “Sit.”

In what would normally have been a humorous event, but currently, with people shitting themselves watching a monster standing almost 3 metres beast, it wasn’t really a time for humour.

The beast growled a bit but sat down and glared at Ghost, it didn’t pay attention as the shooter was brought out of the room.

Price came over. “Congratulations Simon, you have just become his handler.” Price said.

Ghost glanced at Price. “How long does he stay here?”

“Until he is fed, someone is bringing some meat as we speak.” Price said.

“So you knew,” Ghost said before he looked back to the beast. “I assume there is a reason we weren’t told.”

“It’s classified information, strictly need to know only. Can’t have incidents like today happen again.” Price said.

All in all, it took an hour before (Y/N) was back and ushered off to change into clothes before the whole team gathered in the meeting room. (Y/N) stood beside Price.

“Okay people, what you saw today was the result of a dormant gene that was triggered by accident a few years back, (Y/N) in all the time you have known him have been like this, he isn’t a threat to any of us but that man was intending to kill him.” Price said. “(Y/N) explain the details.”

“I am what you would commonly call a werewolf. It’s a bit more complicated than that but we have research on people like me, the history of it I can’t go into details about. The beast form you saw isn’t usually how I look, it’s more of an underworld look than full-on daemonic as you saw.” (Y/N) said. “He used what we now know to be wolfbane to mess me up, if I start having that allergic reaction again I will leave the area, don’t worry I will be found, I have a tracker in my neck.” (Y/N) said.

Ghost looked at him. “How was it that I could control you? You didn’t attack me.”

“I don’t know, my guess would be you are familiar with or already have a sense of authority over me. Either way, no one else has successfully stopped me from killing, they have only pointed me towards a group and said kill. There are currently 16 people like me in different militaries all around the world. We do have our own sub-unit in times of crisis. If we are needed we will be called in and it overrides any and all missions or work, including our handlers. I am sorry Ghost.”

“It’s fine, it’s work, nothing else.” Ghost said. “At least I got to you in time.”

“There wouldn’t have been consequences for Beast had he killed the shooter, his value as an asset is worth more than the life of someone trying to kill him.” Price said.

Soap whistled a bit. “Well, at least we know why you are called Beast.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I actually got that name before my curse. An enemy caught me, and tortured me but didn’t tie me up properly, so I escaped and ripped everyone apart. I escaped and tried to find our base of operation but got lost in the forest. My team found me in a den of wolves who had taken me in.” (Y/N) said.

Ghost chuckled a bit. “Living up to your name, what was it before you were named beast?”

“… Trip, we did a training course during a particularly rough winter and I kept tripping so everyone called me Trip.” (Y/N) said with a sigh. “I think I like Beast better.”

Soap stood up. “Well, we will be a very successful group.” He said.

—

Years had passed, the task force had long since dissolved and most had died, either from injury on the field or from old age. (Y/N) had seen new members come and go, seen Price be replaced and seen Price’s replacement be replaced.

It was peaceful now, the war still raged on but it wasn’t (Y/N)’s problem, not anymore, a much newer and younger generation had taken over.

(Y/N) gently knocked on the door to the small house before letting himself in.

A wrinkled Soap was sitting by the kitchen table a little bit away, drawing in his book. He looked up and saw (Y/N). “Simon! Get your ass down here! Good to have you back.” Old man Soap said.

(Y/N) smiled and closed the door. “Good to see you too, John.” He said as he took his boots off.

“Simon! Where are you?!” Soap yelled upstairs.

(Y/N) walked over and sat in front of his old friend. “John, you remember don’t you? We visited Simon yesterday.” (Y/N) said softly.

Soap looked at him and his eyes filled with tears. “How could I have forgotten?” He asked before wiping his eyes.

“I miss him too.” (Y/N) said softly. “But I promised him I would take care of you. He loved you a lot.”

Soap smiled sadly and looked up at (Y/N). He pointed at the few grey hairs gathering at (Y/N)’s temples. “You don’t look a day over 40,” Soap said.

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah well, I am a lot older than that.” He said.

Soap chuckled. “How old are you even?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I was found in that den of wolves during world war one?” (Y/N) asked.

“No way, I assumed it was more recent,” Soap said.

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, world war I, a brutal time to be a war prisoner. I was born in Canada so I didn’t get the worst treatment but it wasn’t fun.”

Soap hummed. “Did Simon ever know?”

(Y/N) shook his head. “No, but you look like you haven’t eaten all day so I am going to cook you something that matches what the doctor said you could eat and then we will see Simon’s grave again, alright?”

Soap nodded. “Yes, that sounds good.” He said and looked back down at his drawings. He blinked before looking up again, smiling. “(Y/N)! It’s so good to see you.”

(Y/N) smiled a bit softer. “It’s good to see you too, old friend.”

My requests are open. Feel free to send in anything you want to have written ^^

#cod x male reader #male reader #cod men x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x male reader

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