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contact-guy · 4 months

Text

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

#they are so married #also watson describing himself as bohemian #i know what you are #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #acd canon #john watson #my art #musgrave ritual

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diejager · 5 months

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I know I already sent you an ask but could I get something for monster!141? Specifically Dragon!Price? Sorry for asking again but I love price and your writing!

Dragon Heart

Pairing: Dragon!John Price x fem!reader

Cw: knot, breeding kink, creampie, smut, fluff, morning sex, implied somnophilia, slow sex, romantic sex, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.7k

You knew dragons ran hot, their bodies powered by the kindled fire in their hearts, breathing smoke and fire with every breath they took. European dragons were creatures synonymous with fire, the powerful blaze that humans coveted for warmth, protection and destruction, but Price was all but the latter with his ragtag group. You once thought that Soap - sweet, rambunctious Johnny - ran the hottest, his body exhuming heat in plumes of vapours, his body exhausting itself from rapid muscle growth. Now you knew better, nothing burned more than a dragon itself, his heart pulsing in powerful waves, warm and soothing, his body warmed by the will of fire that thrived within him. You felt it all, his body calling to yours, naked under the sheets of his bed, cradling his face between your arms after your nightly activities that would follow in the morning —a promise he whispered on your lips.

You woke up to his soft kisses, severing his mark on your body just as his hands did on your wrists, and the rough scruff of his beard, tickling your cheek and throat as he moved down. He was hard between his thick thighs, the flushed head of his cock pushing inside you in a slow roll of his hips, your slick walls stretching around his girth. Price liked waking you up with slow and gentle sex, watching your eyes crack open while they rolled back and lips cracked open to let out a few sleepy mewls, feeling him fill you up. There was something in being woken up with Price inside of you on slow mornings, to feel the warmth of his body pressing you into the bed, soft sheets hugging you, and the heaviness of his cock, carving the shape of it inside you.

Mornings like these were full of love and affection, unhurried pleasure and gentle caresses. Price - John, you called him behind closed doors - was a devoted lover, giving you much more than he received, finding pleasure in giving rather than receiving. He was a firm, but kind hand, soft but guiding, he took the reins and watched you unravel beneath him —much like a flower blooming, petals unfurling into the prettiest blossom he knew. Price was a strong lover, caring for you through anything with strong conviction, grounding in anything he ventured into, a strong hand reminding Ghost that you were here for him, a gentle hand grounding Gaz from his slight fears, a firm hand keeping Soap in check, and a protective hand holding you close. He was everything and nothing at the same time. He gave and never asked for more, taking what was given to him with a smile and warming eyes.

While you liked the moments of shared animosity, clawing and biting at him, pressing him down on his desk and riding the life out of his cock, milking him for all his worth while he grasped and bucked into you, holding you captive under his burning gaze; you cherished these moments of domesticity, where he was neither captain nor were you his corporal. You weren’t restrained by duty or regulations, you simply held one another out of passion, one that had his heart soar and yours skip a beat. You loved him, you knew you did as much as he did, and he loved you so much that it hurt his old heart. He whispered your name, pressing his lips against yours, a soft and sensual act drawn out in lazy mornings and passionate gazes —he never failed to look you in the eyes when he expressed himself, telling you how much he cared and how much he would give for any one of you.

“Love you, John,” you gasped, hips bucked up, searching for his cock to hit a certain spot inside of you, the gummy part of you that made you cry and mewl. “I love you.”

His kiss tasted like cigar and smoke, a woody taste similar to Ghost’s earthy bourbon, but Price’s was more powerful, a distinct taste of him. It laid heavy with love, it clung to you with such boiling joy that you smiled, eyes closed. Your fingers found his spine, the curve that went up to his singular wing, a vestige of an accident that left him crippled in the air, you pressed down, hitting a knot while he fucked into you at a steady pace. He groaned, his pace stuttering, jerkily bottoming out, his balls flush against your ass and his wild pubic hair scratching your throbbing clit. He shuddered and you knew he liked it, the relief it gave him when you pressed a certain knot in his back, the one that released tension and gave him more leeway to move about freely and without restraint. It was your way to give back when he wouldn’t take.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped, brows furrowed and blinking away the daze you put him in, having his cock milked and his back popped felt amazing, the immediate relief painted on his face, “You’re a blessing.”

He felt like a blessing to you, his heart, his body, his mind, and everything about him was a blessing to you and his team. A gifting dragon to his hoard, keeping and protecting what belonged to him. Words wouldn’t be enough for you to show him how much you appreciate him, you used acts, favours and everything you had to show it to him. Whether it be a sudden kiss on his lips that brought a smile on his face, the skin under his eyes wrinkling from how happy he looked, or the massages you gave him, unwinding all the tension in his body after a hard mission, hearing his pleasured groan and his struggle to stay still, to stop himself from snatching you up and give you all the love he deemed you worthy of.

You murmured confessions, praises directed at his character rather than his duty, proclaiming little whispers of love. You raked your nails down his back, fleetingly touching the base of his tail, thick and robust, curled around your leg, holding it over his hip for deeper penetration, the rounded head of his cock kissing your cervix despite your prone position —a vanilla morning sex in missionary. Your hands slipped under his arm, roving over his hairy chest and pinching his perky nipples, rolling the rounded nubs between your thumb and index. You felt him twitch, a soft moan leaving his swollen lips, still kissing you with feverish need. His nipples were sensitive, especially in the mornings when his body reacted much more than at night, he’d succumb to your little tease, jerkily thrusting into you. Every drive of his cock thickened the ring of white around his cock, the ribbed girth of it catching the edge of your cunt when he pulled out, bringing you mind-numbing ecstasy.

You could feel the coil in your core tightening, the unwinding pleasure that followed the first spasm, walls clinging onto him. You let out a shuddered breath, feeling the ribs rubbing your sweet spot and his leaky cock throb against your cervix. Slick oozed out of your hole with each thrust, the motion pushing out yesterday’s load, cream jostled out of you, squeezed around his shaft.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he groaned, bowing his head over your shoulders, his breath hot and mouth nipping at your skin, threatening to sink his teeth and mark you for the others to see, for them to strew in jealousy that he had you all night long and the following morning. He spoiled and cared for you. “I want to hear you moan.”

Moan, you did, thighs tensing when your fingers circled your swollen clit, rolling the twitching nerve in rapid motions. You breathed laboriously, panting and gasping into his ear, mewling his name with teary and burning eyes, rolling back from pleasure and the thin veil of grey smoke that rose from his lips. It smelled like cedar, a smoky incense mixed with the natural scent of cedar and his strong cigars, a soothing and bitter smell. It drove you off the edge, his smell, his warmth, his body, and his voice sent you careening over the precipice of your pleasure, an explosive fire blinding you in white light, stars dancing around your sight as you clung to him. Your walls gripped in him a vice, clenching down on his cock and hand stuttering on your clit, the bundle of nerves sensitive and slick.

He was sloppy, growling out praises, telling you how good you were for coming for him, confessing how he lived to bring you over the brink of relief and much farther, and mumbling how he’d ruin himself for you. It was wet and messy, he came with a single buck, snapping into you, his green-tinted balls slapping your ass wetly, and bottoming out, his knot catching and inflating with a deep groan. Hot cum filled you, ropes of potent semen shooting out of his red tip, engorged and throbbing against your gummy cervix. You felt like you’d bloat from how much he was spewing, imagining the bump of cock and cum under your skin, poking out in an erotic sight.

His back slumped over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him, face pressed under his chin and his wing covering you. You listened to his purr, a low sound meant to comfort you after sex or any other straining activity —similarly to a cat showing its joy and pleasure. Price always cuddled you while waiting out his knot, pressing his burning body against yours and spoiling you with words and kisses. His knot comfortably seated inside of you, keeping his load from going to waste, preventing his fertility from leaking out of you like the faucet-like jet of his tip, he murmured into your hair, nosing the few strands that clung to your forehead and kissed you deeply. You kissed back, fingers carding through his beard and bushy hair, nails scratching his scalp, being careful of his sensitive horns.

“We have the day off, darling,” Price smiled conspiringly, blazing, amber eyes brimming with mirth, “Reckon we stay in bed a while longer?”

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sant-riley · 7 months

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Yeah but like what if one day Gaz walked into a room and saw Y/N FNAF lore dumping to Ghost

[Infodumping the boys]

(Mostly Platonic tf141 x gen neutral! reader, hints at Ghost bc it’s me and I’m biased.)

Summary: Teddy aka You, decide to gather the gang and tell them about five nights at Freddy’s before the movie comes out.

Word count: 800 ish

Warnings: Possibly of for the boys (idrc tho lmao), Teddy is this readers callsign, reader is implied to be at least early 20’s, I can’t think of anything else tbh but lmk if this does need something tagged!

It wasn't uncommon for you to infodump your teammates, they're all older than you and have significantly less screen time than you (it ties into being older). Most of the information you give them is something they take as fact, this is no different.

Gaz of all people knows your interests best, you two being the closest in age means you both realistically grew up with the internet and its most popular series.

The last thing he expected walking into one of the many meeting rooms on base, was you at the front of the room, your laptop hooked up to the projector and Price and Soap sitting down, dutifully listening with varying degrees of attention.

Price is to your left, staring down at mission documents that no doubt need to be turned in by tomorrow. A glass of some liquor next to his stack, a cigar box that's propped open right by it as well.

To anyone else, it would seem like Price isn't listening and he's just here to keep you from bothering him to come but Gaz can see the Captain's eye flick up every so often, his eyes softening when his gaze falls on yours, listening for a few beats, a miniscule upturn of his lips until he's looking back down again, grabbing a pen to make a correction.

Soap on the other hand is sitting next to Cap, a hand resting under his chin, the other flipping around a pen in his hands. He's nodding and asking questions as you flick through. Below him is a notebook that seems to have scribbled in it, if Gaz walked in further he could see little drawings of Monty Gator and Soap himself, a Venn diagram with a large red writing saying "Mohawk!!"

Ghost being there probably should be a shock but it isn't. The man is known to follow you around like a shadow, he humors you arguably the most out of the four men, letting you drag him to and from places with minimal complaint. He bets Ghost is gonna be the one to take you to the five nights at Freddys movie premiere.

Simon's dressed down to just his hoodie and his balaclava mask, attentively watching you as you speak passionately about each character and their role in the series. his dark eyes flicking around to stare at the drawings you inserted so everyone could see what the animatronics and others looked like.

You would've thought this was a mission debrief with how focused he was on your words.

Gaz lets out a fake cough, announcing himself to the room and he watches as your eyes immediately latch onto him, he ignores how his heart skips a beat when he sees the crinkles of your eyes, seeing you shoot a glowing smile his way.

You always look at him like that but he never tires of it.

"Gaz! Finally, you're here!"

Rushing over to him, you grab at his hand, quickly intertwining fingers, and start dragging him to the seat next to Ghost. He sits down with a huff, amusement swimming around his eyes. You move to go back to the front of the room, gleefully rocking on the balls of your feet as you look at them.

"What's all this about?" He questions, after getting nods in acknowledgment from the other 3 men in the room.

"Teddy here is tellin' us about five nights at…Frankies?"

"It's Freddy's, Johnny." You roll your eyes playfully.

"No shot you're making Ghost and Cap listen to this."

"I'm not making them do anything, they're here of their own free will, thank you very much." Sticking out your tongue, moving to click to the next slide.

"Is that true Cap?"

"It's background noise," John murmurs with a shrug, taking a swig out of his glass. He leans back in his seat, seemingly taking a momentary break as he looks around at the table.

"Got nothin' better else to do," Simon answers easily, looking at Gaz from the corner of his eye.

"You ain't gonna ask me, Garrick?"

"Nah, you of all people would enjoy it."

"What's tha-"

"Boys! Shut it! We're getting to the good part!" You clap your hands together and Soap immediately cuts himself off, looking back at you.

With all the boys' eyes on you, you clear your throat and push a button, there, from when Gaz remembers, is Michael Afton in all his purple nasty body glory.

"Fucks wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Simon remarks, an eyebrow shooting up.

"I'm so glad you asked, you know actually the more I think about it, You and Michael actually have a lot in common.”

"How so?"

"Asshole dad, the oldest brother, daddy issues, I can keep going if you want."

Ghost just grunts in acknowledgment, raising a hand to his head and rubbing at his temples.

Price chokes on his liquor, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

Soap audibly drops an "oh."

And Gaz just stares, truth be told, yeah. Yeah, he can see the resemblance.

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dcigar · 3 months

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Alex. By day, he was a mild-mannered accountant, crunching numbers in a sterile office. But by night, he became someone entirely different.

It all started innocently enough. One evening, Alex stumbled upon a leather shop tucked away in a dimly lit alley. Curiosity piqued, he ventured inside, drawn by the smell of rich, supple leather and the promise of hidden desires.

As he ran his fingers over the sleek jackets and rugged boots, something stirred within him. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place, a sense of exhilaration mixed with a hint of taboo. And when he slipped on a leather jacket, the world shifted.

Suddenly, Alex felt more alive than ever before. The cool touch of the leather against his skin sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn't help but admire his reflection in the mirror. Gone was the shy accountant; in his place stood a confident, powerful man.

From that moment on, Alex's life took on a new rhythm. He sought out leather wherever he could find it, reveling in the way it made him feel alive and free. He attended leather events and gatherings, immersing himself in the vibrant subculture that welcomed him with open arms.

But along the way, Alex faced challenges too. He grappled with his own insecurities and fears, worried about what others might think of his newfound passion. Yet with each step he took, he found strength in his authenticity, embracing his identity as a gay man who loved to wear leather.

And as he walked through the city streets, head held high and leather-clad, Alex knew one thing for certain: he had discovered a part of himself he never knew existed, and he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

One fateful evening, Alex decided to take his exploration of leather to the next level. He ventured into a renowned gay leather club, drawn by the promise of a community that understood and embraced his desires.

Inside the dimly lit club, the air was thick with anticipation and the scent of leather mingled with the heady aroma of cigars. As Alex made his way through the crowd, he couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over him.

It was there, in the heart of the club, that he discovered his love for cigars. Entranced by the sight of men puffing on their smoldering sticks, he hesitantly accepted an offer to try one for himself.

As the rich, earthy flavor enveloped his senses, Alex felt a rush of pleasure unlike anything he had experienced before. The smoke danced on his tongue, filling him with a sense of warmth and contentment.

From that moment on, cigars became a staple of Alex's leather-clad adventures. He relished the ritual of lighting up, the camaraderie shared with fellow enthusiasts, and the way the smoke added an extra layer of intensity to his experiences.

With each visit to the leather club, Alex discovered more about himself and the vibrant subculture he had become a part of. And as he indulged in his love for leather and cigars, he found a sense of liberation and empowerment that he had never known before.

As Alex continued to immerse himself in the leather community and embrace his newfound passions, he decided to take another bold step: he grew a beard.

At first, it was just a stubble, a hint of rugged masculinity that complemented his leather-clad persona. But as time went on, Alex let his beard grow longer and fuller, until it became a defining feature of his appearance.

With each passing day, the beard became more than just a symbol of his masculinity; it became a symbol of his confidence and self-assurance. Running his fingers through the coarse hair, Alex felt a sense of pride in the person he had become.

As he walked through the city streets, leather jacket hugging his frame, cigar smoke trailing behind him, and beard framing his face, Alex felt like he was truly living life on his own terms. And with each passing day, he discovered new depths to his identity, finding joy and fulfillment in every aspect of his journey.

With his confidence soaring and his sense of self solidifying, Alex delved deeper into his exploration of leather. One day, while browsing through a leather boutique, he stumbled upon a pair of leather chaps.

Intrigued by their rugged appeal and the way they showcased his legs, Alex couldn't resist trying them on. As he fastened the buckles and adjusted the straps, he felt a surge of excitement course through him.

Stepping in front of the mirror, Alex admired his reflection. The leather chaps hugged his thighs snugly, accentuating every curve and contour of his body. He felt powerful, alluring, and completely in command of his desires.

From that moment on, leather chaps became a staple of Alex's wardrobe. Whether he was strutting through the streets or dancing the night away at the leather club, he always felt like the truest version of himself when he wore them.

Embracing his love for leather chaps was just another step in Alex's journey of self-discovery. With each new revelation, he felt more liberated and empowered, unapologetically embracing every aspect of his identity as a gay man who loved to wear leather. And as he continued to explore and celebrate his passions, he knew that the best was yet to come.

More to come…

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ripcupid · 6 months

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Secretary

ceo! john price x secretary! reader

୨୧ i don’t even know i just want him in the worst ways but secretary is one of my favorite movies go watch it fr.

Price slams his hands on his desk before placing his head in his hands, letting out a frustrated sigh. He wipes his face with his hands and takes a deep breath, looking outside his office window to see you, typing away at your desk-- peacefully. He sits and watches as you walk away from your desk, returning with a sack of papers, which he assumes are the reports he had asked for earlier.

Price leans back in his chair, groaning in frustration as he realizes he has more work to do. You sit back at your desk, still peaceful and unaware of Price's growing frustration. You lean on your hand and gaze into the rest of the office as the stragglers pack up their stuff, getting ready to leave before your phone rings and interrupts your daydreaming.

Startled, you quickly pick up the phone and hear Price's gruff and strained voice on the other end. He calls you into his office immediately, his tone indicating urgency. You stand up from your desk and knock on his door, waiting until he gives you permission to enter. As you step into his office, you stand by the door and notice Price's tie hanging loosely around his neck, a cigar resting between his lips.

"C'mere, love," Price says as he rubs his temples, motioning for you to come closer. As you approach him, he blows out a cloud of smoke that fills the air before placing the cigar carefully in an ashtray. You stand beside his desk, noticing the stack of papers and files scattered haphazardly across the surface.

Price brushes up your leg with his hand, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he turns in his chair to face you fully. "You know I love this skirt on you," he says, his voice low and husky as he looks up at you, "it's one of my favorites." You feel a rush of heat going between your thighs as his hand travels on your leg, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thank you, sir," you respond with a slight blush, trying to hold back your growing desire. "If I remember you're the one who bought it for me," you add, a teasing tone lacing your words. "That's right," he whispers, his hand moving to your bare thigh, his fingers sliding under the hem of your skirt.

"Well, you deserved it for 'helping' me with all those late nights," he says, raising an eyebrow suggestively. You can't help but giggle at his innuendo, feeling a rush of heat spread through your body when he squeezes your thigh gently.

"You know why I called you in here, love?" He whispers, tilting his head slightly. Your heart races as you lock eyes with him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. You bite your lip, finding yourself unable to form a coherent response as you rub your thighs to alleviate the growing ache. "Do you?" His hand stops its movement, resting on your thigh. You nod slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

A smirk plays on his lips as his thumb lightly traces circles on your hip. "Go on, then," he murmurs, spreading his legs to give you more space. You get down on your knees, feeling a surge of anticipation and vulnerability. As you look up at him, his hand comes down to cup your cheek, his touch both gentle and possessive.

He strokes your hair back, holding the back of your head to bring you to his lips in a passionate kiss. The taste of his cigar lingers on his lips as his tongue explores your mouth, leaving your brain buzzing with need. Price pulls away slightly, his lips brushing against yours. "Take off your shirt," he whispered, leaning back in his chair to admire the sight before him. With a smirk, you slowly begin to unbutton your shirt, revealing the pretty bra underneath.

"Is everyone else gone?" Price asks, his voice filled with anticipation as he watches you undress. You nod as you unbutton the last button, letting your shirt fall to the floor. His hand reaches out, gently caressing your face and jaw. "Such a pretty girl," he murmurs, his thumb tracing your plush lips.

You smile softly, looking up at him before kissing the tip of his thumb. Price lets out a low chuckle, trailing his hand down your neck, his fingers lightly grazing your bra strap. "I bought this too?" He asks, flicking his eyes up to meet yours.

"Yes, sir," you reply, feeling Price slide down straps from your shoulder, revealing more of your bare skin. He hums in approval, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You unhook your bra making sure to maintain eye contact with Price. A shiver runs through your body as the cool air hits your exposed chest. "You wanna help me relax a little?" Price asks, leaning back in his chair and spreading his thighs wider. Your eyes light up with excitement and anticipation as you reach out to touch him, eager to please him.

"Of course, sir," you say sweetly. Your hands glide over his thighs, feeling him tense up under your touch. You pull out his shirt from his belt, sitting up straighter to kiss him slowly as you unbutton his shirt, revealing more of his chest. The smell of his cologne surrounds you as you kiss a trail down his chest and stomach.

You reach his belt and slowly undo it, the sound of the buckle clicking echoing in the room as it hits the floor. As you slide his pants down, you can't help but bite your lip at the sight of the bulge in his underwear. Price inhales sharply as you graze your fingers over the fabric, teasingly tracing the outline of his cock. He chuckles deeply, his voice slightly strained as he grabs onto the armrests.

"You like teasing' me, don't you?" he asks, his breathing hitching as you brush against his aching tip that is straining against the fabric.

You giggle softly before finally freeing him from the confines of his underwear, feeling the weight of his length in your hand. "Maybe a little," you whisper, leaning in close to kiss down his length, savoring the way he twitches in your hand. His hand slides into your hair, brushing it away from your face as he scratches your scalp lightly. "C'mon, love, use that pretty mouth of yours," he murmurs, dropping his head back on his chair.

You smile and continue to tease him, kissing and licking along his shaft, relishing in the way his stomach tightens and his breath quickens. You suck his tip into your mouth, slowly stroking his base as you look up at him through your lashes. Price chuckles and grabs his still-burning cigar from the ashtray, taking a long drag, and exhaling a cloud of smoke that lingers in the air. "Fuckin' hell," he groans, brushing through your hair with his free hand.

He brunches your hair in his fist, guiding you further down his cock. You eagerly comply, taking him deeper into your mouth and using your tongue to tease the sensitive underside of his shaft. Closing your eyes, you focus on trying not to gag as Price holds you firmly in place against his hips, your nose pressed against his pelvis. He stares down at you as he slowly moves you up and down his length, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh, that's it, baby," he grunts, his voice laced with pleasure, "takin' me so well." Your cunt aches when he softly praises you, the wetness growing between your legs. Price continues to guide you, thrusting his hips gently just to hear you gag and whine around him. You grab onto his thighs for support, your fingers digging into his flesh as he uses your mouth to fulfill his desires. The sound of his heavy breathing fills the office, mixing with the sounds of your mouth working around him.

Price looks out the window, seeing the reflection of you in the glass, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you bob your head up and down. "Look at you, pretty girl," he whispers, looking back down at you as he pulls you off cock. You look up at him with glazed and teary eyes, panting softly as you wrap your hands around his length and stroke it gently. Price's free hand comes down to caress your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your glistening parted lips.

Your eyes focus on his cock, watching the way it glistens with your saliva and pre-cum. "Where do you want me to finish?" he asks, taking another drag of his cigar. You feel the ache between your legs intensify as you look up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability.

"Anywhere you want, Sir," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. The anticipation builds as Price's eyes darken with lust, his grip on his cigar tightening. He grabs your cheeks firmly, guiding your lips back to his cock.

Your tongue lolls out, eager to taste him again as he taps his tip against your lips. "How about here, hm?" he asks teasingly, his accent only turning your brain into more of a mess, "You would like that, wouldn't you?" You nod eagerly, unable to form words only letting out a soft moan as he pushes himself back into your mouth.

Your pretty lips wrap around him as he thrusts deeper, the sound of your gagging mixing with his low groans of pleasure. Price groans in pleasure, dropping back into his chair as he fucks your face with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Small tears run down your cheeks as he hits the back of your throat, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses. You know Price is close to reaching his climax as his hips begin to stutter trying to maintain a steady rhythm. The room fills with the sounds of your gagging and his grunts as Price's breathing becomes more ragged, his grip tightening in your hair. With one final, deep thrust, Price releases himself with a guttural moan, his body shuddering with release. The taste of him fills your senses, and you swallow obediently, moaning around him.

As Price catches his breath, he pulls you off his cock and you take a moment to catch your breath. He puts out his cigar, looking at you with a satisfied grin. "Oh, love," he coos with a chuckle, leaning down to wipe the tears from your cheek and press a gentle kiss against your forehead. "You did so good," Price whispers, moving down to your lips and softly kissing you. You melt into his kiss, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. You stand up slowly, Price helping you steady yourself. As you grab your shirt and bra from the floor, Price tucks himself back into his pants, his eyes never leaving you.

With a tender smile, Price pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He turns his chair to face the window, the city night skyline sparkling with lights. He tucks his head into your neck and whispers, "You want me to play with you?" Price's fingers start to trace delicate patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Don't you still have work to do, Sir?" you tease. Price chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. He checks his watch, seeing that it's 9 p.m. already. He kisses your neck as he pulls your skirt up slightly, revealing more of your bare skin. You drop your head on his chest, giggling as his lips continue to explore your neck, pulling your skirt higher up your thigh.

"Work can wait till tomorrow."

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mangekyuou · 11 months

Text

✩༄ diet mountain dew ! | red-haired shanks.

☆ — pairing! . . . mobster!shanks x bartender!f!reader.

☆ — summary! . . . as a mob boss’s kid who is sheltered from the underground, there’s only a handful of things your old man wanted you to be aware of. one of those things were men you shouldn’t hang around. number one on the list was him, the one with the red hair, the mobster giving your old man the most trouble. you would never break your promise to your old man, would you?

☆ — cw(s)! . . . mafia!au. nsfw. afab!reader. ( “cunt” / “core” used to describe genitals among others ) no pronouns used. reader wears a short dress. age gap. reader is implied to be in their early 20s. sub!reader. fingering. oral. ( f and m receiving ) facefucking. overstimulation. piv. unprotected sex. shanks calls the reader “angel” and “gorgeous”. reader calls shanks “red”. alcohol consumption. not proofread. MINORS DNI.

☆ — wc! . . . 3.4k.

☆ — notepad! . . . i promised someone a shanks smut...i couldn’t stick to the original script so as an apology, i give you mobster!shanks and rival boss’s kid <3 wow! that summary was not good lmaoooo

You shouldn’t!

You can’t!

If they caught you like this! You’d be dead!

The voice in the back of your head grew stronger, and louder with every rough touch, every passionate kiss, every pretty shallow moan, and sigh that escaped from your bruised lips into his mouth. The voice of reason, screaming at you, to stop, to remember the consequences, as your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging at his dark red locks, pulling him closer, deeper into you. The feeling of his strong chest finally pressed against yours, made you shiver.

You could feel the redhead smile briefly against your lips before finally breaking your kiss. You stared breathlessly at him. His dark, lust-filled eyes stared back at you with want, with need. Before you could catch your breath, he spun you around, entrapping you between his body and the cold bar. You could feel his bulge pressed against your ass.

With a light satisfied hum, you leaned over the bar, your bare cheek touching the cool surface. The redhead had followed suit, letting his broad chest press against your back. His lips grazed the top of your ear. “You look so fucking beautiful bent over this bar, Angel,” He whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine, “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” The redhead kissed down to your neck that you would be covered in deep purple blotches, come morning. You could feel his smirk on your hot skin. Everything was pointing to this being a bad idea, to him being a bad idea.

There were many titles you had come to know the redhead by since you had become old enough to listen in on the family trade. Listening intently from behind the bar to the mobsters you had come to know as older brothers, sitting around the poker table with a cigar hanging from their mouths and a handful of cards.

The Red Devil. Eyes of Death.

But one stuck out to you the most.

“The bastard you should stay away from”, You remembered your father’s words, with that harsh glare that you and the others had become all too familiar with. You had nervously brushed it off, reassuring your father that you wouldn’t even dream of being in the same room with an enemy of the family, let alone him.

Nobody could be that stupid to just waltz into enemy territory so carelessly, let alone set foot in the speakeasy operated by the boss’ kid! It was suicide! Though you have never seen the things your father and his underlings do to those they call enemies, you heard a few of the gruesome rumors. Just what man would even risk that?

Who else than the fearless redhead himself?

The door to your bar opened and closed, as your back was turned. You could not help but roll your eyes, as you pointed to the clock on the wall across the room, “We’re closed, you know.”

“Aww, you close pretty early for a Saturday night, gorgeous,” An unfamiliar voice reached your ears. You could hear the playful disappointment in his tone. You nearly felt his pout through his words.

Your words did not seem to turn him away. You could hear the heels of his boots, getting closer before stopping altogether. You could hear the stranger plop down into one of the bar stools, making himself all comfortable right after you told him you were closed, “I take it you’re not a night owl then.” He teased.

“And I take it you’re not good at following directions,” You retorted, your back still turned to him, finishing up stocking the bar shelves.

“Something like that.” He laughed.

You were starting to get irritated, “Look. For the last time, we’re closed. We closed almost an hour ago. You can either come back tomorrow or I bring somebody in here to come retrieve you. My folks ain’t too friendly to people who...” You finally turned around, your eyes finally meeting his.

Shanks, the boss of that ragtag group of mobsters from the east side of town. The ragtag group of nobodies pushing themselves onto other families’ territories because they had gotten too big for their own britches, you heard your father say once. They wanted a hand in everyone’s business, by any means necessary. Even if it meant spilling a few pints of blood.

He was a dangerous man, even more so than the men you had known all of your life. And he stumbled his way into your speakeasy out of all of the ones on this side of town. He had to know what he was doing here. There was no way it was just luck.

“Your folks ain’t too friendly to people who do what exactly?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish your sentence, “Cat got your tongue?”

There was no amount of front you could put on that would fool him. The way his dark eyes bore into you, he could read you easily. He noticed you swallow shallowly. He almost instantly lost the intimidating aura that surrounded him, a playful one taking its place as he let out a hearty laugh, “I’m just messing with you, Angel.”

Angel.

Running this bar, you thought you heard all the pet names there were to hear. But Angel…felt different, especially coming from his lips. You almost didn’t mind it, but only from him.

You took a good look at him. You had seen pictures of the greedy bastard before. But seeing him in person you realize those photos weren’t doing him any justice.

He was a gorgeous man and by the way he carried himself, you knew that he knew it too. He was confident. He was mature. His rugged look and the aged scars that covered his tanned skin added a nice charm. The top buttons of his button-up were left undone, giving you a nice glimpse at his strong, hairy chest. He took very good care of himself. You wondered if he had done the same on the lower half.

“I don’t mind being gawked at by a pretty thing such as yourself. But I think a deserve a drink if you’re just gonna stand there and eye-fuck me, don’t you think?”

You dropped your eyes to your station. You could feel your body burning. He was vulgar and blunt. Something you weren’t used to in this business. Your father’s high rank often made others scared to even look at you when the boss was around.

No funny ideas about the boss’s kid! But him? He didn’t care. Maybe because he was older than most of these mobsters who worked for your father. Perhaps because he had much more experience under his belt. Whatever it was, it was doing something for you. And you wanted to have a bit of fun.

You fixed the redhead a glass of the strongest whiskey you have. You set the glass down in front of him, “It’s on the house.”

“Oh?”

“As a thank you for giving me something nice to look at,” He watched as your eyes traveled down his chest, before meeting his gaze again.

He couldn’t hold his chuckle, “Cute and flirty. I may have just found the best speakeasy and the sexiest bartender on this side of town. Maybe I’ll come back to see you.”

He sure knew how to make a person feel all giddy. As the drinks kept coming, the flirting continued. You were enjoying his company, his words, his eyes raking over your figure wrapped in that minidress that didn’t leave much to one’s imagination.

“You’re going to drink me out of business. That whiskey was expensive, Red.” You frown, shaking the near-empty bottle, to feel just how empty it was, “I should charge this to your tab.” You set the bottle aside, turning to the buzzed mobster sitting on the other side of the bar. After drinking nearly the entire bottle, he seemed only a little tipsy. Just how often did he drink?

“Aww, don’t be like that, Angel. You had a few swigs too,” He whined.

“But the difference is I own the place. You? You’re here to flirt your way into a few drinks and walk out without paying, huh?” You teased, boldly leaning over the bar top, your face just inches away from the most dangerous man in town. And here you were, welcoming said danger.

Shanks smirked, downing the last corner of the whiskey in his glass, leaning towards you until the tips of your nose had grazed one another’s, “Without paying? What kind of man you take me for? I’ll pay you back tenfold and then some in ways these little boys that run around here can’t. I’ll make you feel like the only one in the world.” His tone had darkened.

“Yeah? What kind of payment are you looking to treat me to, Red?” You played coy.

“Come around the bar and I’ll show you, Angel.”

Which is how you ended up here, bent over the bar with his body pressed against yours, his rough lips trailing down to the base of your neck. You wanted this. You need this. You craved this, you craved him. To hell with the consequences, you needed him.

He pulled away suddenly, straightening himself back up. He wasted no time, flipping up your minidress to reveal your ass, “Such a perfect ass. You wanted me to see you like this, huh? This little fucking dress you got on. If you can even call this little thing a dress.” His hands gently caressed your ass, as he focused on your already-soaked panties, “Never have I seen a dress so short. If you bent over earlier, I’d see everything. But you’d like that wouldn’t you, Angel? You’re already dripping. Slip out of these for me.”

You nodded your head, helping him pull down your drenched panties. You stepped out of them, letting them fall to the floor. You reached for the zipper of your dress next, “The dress too?”

“The dress stays on. Need to fuck you good in this so you remember me every time you put it on.”

You unconsciously squeezed your thighs together at his words, reaching around to capture his lips in a short kiss. He pulled away from your lips, giving your ass a tight squeeze. He placed two fingers on your bottom lip, “Suck. Get them all nice and wet for me.”

You took his digits into your mouth, coating them. Once they were drenched to his liking, he pulled them out of your mouth, replacing them with his lips on yours in a sloppy kiss. He used his foot, to spread your legs further, bringing his drenched digits down to your core. He slid his fingers up and down your entrance, before sliding them inside of you painfully slow, making you moan into his mouth.

He began to pump his fingers into you, pulling away from your lips, “This okay?”

“Better than okay. Your fingers feel really good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He latched onto your shoulder, sucking and licking at your skin, as he drove his thick digits in and out of you, curling them. His pace grew faster in response to your moans. He needed to hear more, he wanted you to be loud. He needed to hear just how good he was making you feel, letting all your worries wash away and be replaced with pleasure.

Your body began to wrench underneath him. You were close, so dangerously close. And he knew it. He could feel your walls contracting around his fingers. “Close, Angel?” He said into your shoulder, earning a frantic nod from you.

Very suddenly, his lips parted from your shoulder and he slipped his digits out of you. Before you could whine about the loss of contact, how you were so close, the mobster carefully dropped to his knees, shoving his face into your cunt, burying his hot tongue into you. Finally tasting you, he hummed in delight.

“Fuck!” Your body shuttered, reaching your high on his face. He helped you ride out your first orgasm on his tongue, but he continued to lap at your folds from behind, whispering praises you couldn’t even focus on due to the slight sting of overstimulation washing over your body. You tried to lean away from his mouth, though the mobster had other plans, wrapping his arm around to keep you moving too far. “I’m not finished with you yet. Be a good little barkeep and take everything I give you.”

You gripped tightly onto the edge of the bar, pushing your ass back to meet his tongue, fucking yourself on the muscle. Though you could not see him, from his delighted hums and the way his fingers gripped into the plush of your skin, you knew he was enjoying himself too.

It was not long before the second band of pleasure began to build up inside of you. Feeling you contract around his tongue, his large hand found its way back to yours, intertwining your fingers. You gave his hand a tight squeeze before cumming. Your second orgasm washed over you even more intensely than the first. Your legs had nearly given out, if you weren’t trapped between him and the bar, you would have likely fallen.

He helped you ride out your second orgasm, before letting go of your hand. His hand found the bar to use as a crutch to stand. He used the back of his hand, to wipe the glistening arousal still left on his chin, “You may taste much better than the whiskey. But maybe I need another taste to compare the two.”

After catching your breath, you slowly turned around to face him. You watched the redhead reach for the whiskey bottle, taking the last swig. He looked between you and the empty bottle, “I was correct, you taste better.”

You roll your eyes. “Even after all that, you’re still adding to your tab.”

“I can pay it off now, don’t you think?” He pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving your hands pressed onto his chest. Everything about him was intoxicating. He was addicting. You just could not get enough of him.

Your hands had found themselves on the buttons of his shirt, undoing the rest of them. He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, helping you slip his shirt off. You fiddled with the button and zipper of his trousers, undoing them before palming his bulge. He sighed softly, his dark eyes never left yours. “If you didn’t owe me for the whiskey maybe I’d return the favor this time,” You teased.

“Oh, how mean,” He chuckled, “You’ll have plenty of chances to return the favor later.”

“Oh? I will?”

“Absolutely,” He placed a peck on the tip of your nose, sealing his promise. “Spin around again for me.” You spun around in his warm hold, finding yourself bent over the bar for him again. You flipped up your dress this time. Though a piece of you wanted to see him, all of him, you sure didn’t mind being bent over like this, with nowhere to run, the man you shouldn’t be with pinning you down. It was all just such a rush.

Shanks pulled his trousers down just enough to free his hardened cock. He suddenly guided his length along your folds, using your arousal as lubricant. The action made you jolt in surprise. Against your entrance, you could feel how thick he was. You could even feel the prominent veins running down his shaft.

“You feel me, Angel? What you do to me? Huh?” He purred lowly. You hummed in response, eagerly anticipating feeling him deep inside of you. Shanks lined his length up with your entrance, guiding his length into your dripping core. You both let out a drawn-out moan as he bottomed out. The stretch of his cock inside of you was delicious. You’ve never felt so full.

The redhead leaned down, kissing up from your shoulder to your neck, “Fuck, you feel better than I imagined. I should just whisk you away after this.”

You grinned, tossing your head to the side to give him more access to your neck, “I wouldn’t mind for a day.”

“All I get is one day?”

“Fuck me right and I’ll consider adding a second.”

“Such a fucking tease,” He whispered, kissing your lips as he began to rock his hips into yours. He rolled out, leaving the tip before sinking back into your cunt, moaning against your lips. He set a slow but deep pace into you, as he kissed you, swallowing every moan and whimper you were giving him.

His pace gradually grew. His thrusts had grown fast and rough. He let go of your lips, groaning a hushed fuck into your shoulder. Your speakeasy was filled with the sound of his hips pounding your ass into the bar, your moans, and his low curses and praises of you.

“You’re taking me so well. So fucking well,” He praised. His hand moved from its place on your hip, down to your clit to rub rapid, messy circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He didn’t miss the way you shivered at the sensation. The way you gripped tighter onto the bar, the way your eyes had wired shut. “My pretty angel.”

He leaned close to your ear, “You like being fucked like this? Huh? Knowing anyone could just walk in and see you like this? To see you for what you truly are? I need your words, gorgeous.”

“YES! I LOVE IT, SHANKS!”

“Oh, so you can say my name. How cute.” He could feel your walls start to contract again. A cocky grin appeared on his features, “You gonna cum again, Angel?”

“YES! FUCK YES!”

“Cum.” He grunted into your ear, sending you over the edge once more. You shuttered underneath him with a loud cry of his name, coating his cock in your juices. Your orgasm had nearly brought him to his end. He shut his eyes tightly, as he focused on hitting that high. His thrusts were sloppy and uneven, he was so close, “I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“My mouth.”

“Yeah?”

The redhead pulled out, stroking his cock, as he watched you spin around and drop to your knees. You swatted away his hand, replacing it with yours, as you took him as deep as you could into your mouth.

“FUCK!” He shivered under your touch, your hot mouth, shooting ropes of his warm cum down your throat. His hand found its way to the back of your head, pushing you further onto his cock, as he gently thrusted into your mouth to ride out his orgasm. After a deep sigh and a hearty laugh, he pulled his length out of your mouth. “Get your pretty ass up here.”

You climbed back up to your somewhat still wobbling feet, nearly falling into him, as he crashed his lips onto yours. You were the one to pull away this time, “You should get outta here, Red. I don’t want my folks to see you here.”

“You kicking me to the curb like that? I’m hurt,” He pouted, “Aw come on, the night is still young. We can do whatever you like. Hit up another bar, go for a nice drive through town…” He trailed off, reaching for the hem of your dress, “…maybe take this thing off back at my place. We can do whatever your little heart desires. Just be my angel.”

“You want me to be your angel for the night?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, my angel for a lifetime,” He clarified, stepping behind you, peppering your neck in open-mouthed kisses. You tried your hardest to act uninterested. You folded your arms across your chest, crossed your legs, and pretended to be annoyed at his affections.

A one-night stand was one thing, but being with him was something different. There was no turning back then. There was no telling what your folks would do if they found it, even if they found out about him being here. Could you risk it? Would you risk it?

He was no good for you. But it made you desire him even more. Just...just this once. Just...him. You needed to have him.

What the family didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?

#pretending i was here the whole time #SHHHHH YALL LET THIS ONE SLIDE PLS #one piece #shanks #red haired shanks #Akagami no Shanks #shanks x reader #shanks smut #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.

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xo-cod · 8 months

Note

soft!Dom price my beloved 😩😩😩

you didn't specify whether you wanted nsfw/sfw so i did both, but this can probably be read either way lolz 😩

soft dom price ♡

soft dom!price being your little fixer around the house. you need anything sorted out he's the man to go to. leaky tap? he's already under the kitchen sink with screwdrivers. walls need painting? he's already off in his truck to the nearest maintenance store picking out a pretty colour. draws need building? his toolbox is already whipped out with a cigar placed delicately between his lips as he looks over the instructions. don't usually worry your little head about these tasks <33

soft dom!price that makes you eat proper food and not live off coffee and a breakfast bar. he makes sure you're eating good healthy meals, making sure you have plenty of water throughout the day. he can become stern with you when you're not eating right and he'll even feed you the food gently when it's been a long day for you. and he reminds you on text if you're both working and his are already timed just in case he's on the field and can't type it himself <33

soft dom!price who loves to take long baths with you purely for comfort and relief after a stressful day. he has you in his lap as he gently rubs the bodywash over you, nuzzling you close as he does so. sometimes he can't help it, he needs something a little more and so he spreads your legs a little wider as the head of his cock rubs against you making you both moan softly together as he thrusts forwards. his strong arms holding you close as he does so <33

soft dom!price that picks you up and put of the way when he wants to get somewhere. if you're brushing your teeth in the morning and in front of the sink or if you're in front of the kettle and he needs to grab a glass, he just picks you up from your hips and gently moves you to the side with a soft chuckle and a gentle kiss to your forehead. you're his lil play thing and he can't help it to pick you up constantly <33

soft dom!price that is in love with missionary and just gazing into your eyes as he watches your face crumple with pure pleasure. every single whimper and moan he's cherishing, his hands grasping onto your thighs while he's completely lost in how you feel and how you look writhing underneath him in pure pleasure, "fuck- oh you feel so good around me, sweetness" he can't help but look at where your eager little cunt swallows him whole, his own breathy moans falling from his sinful lips when he sees himself disappearing in you. his hand snakes down your body to rub your clit, enjoying the way your body shakes and trembles for more, how your head swims with pleasure only he can give. price caging you between his strong arms, holding you close while your forehead rest against his. his breathing is slightly erratic as you clench and clamp around him. he loves every single second, his hands smoothing down your hair while he encourages you take a little bit more of him. his lips occupy yours, kissing you slowly and with passion while he moves slowly inside you. it's not to be a tease, he's trying to commit every single action to memory, "so good for me, aren't you sweetheart?" <33

#asks #john price x reader fluff #john price x y/n #john price x reader #john price #john price x reader smut #john price x you

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weebsinstash · 5 months

Text

the brand new Angel Dust song that just came out has me thinking how absolutely fucked a Reader who is a dancer/musician/singer/producer would be with a yandere Valentino because it really does seem like, coming off of just the general materials and vibes I'm getting, that Valentino also turns his pornstars into sort of miniature celebrities, dare I say, idols even, which would maybe inherently fit the theme of Hazbin Hotel being a musical sort of show at heart. People break out into song, Asmodeus runs a club where music is performed, Angel sings as he strips, Alastor just... as is like just his entire aesthetic and musical number was 🤌, sing about being horny, sing about being addicted, sing about being sad, I dunno there's just an inherent love of music in all of it

I've never really posted about it in detail but I've thought of the ever so elusive MALE READER x Valentino (or transdude/intersex Reader because like, I guess i would, have to, accurately research what having a dick would feel like for smut of that and, I don't know, it's my turn on the gender power fantasy and I say--)

Male Reader who just keeps to himself and waits on Val's table "because you're too stiff, you'll scare off other customers" and one night the Overlord just catches you seemingly alone sweeping floors/cleaning while dancing/singing something, that whole trope where you just don't see him or have your eyes closed and practically do a full musical number until you notice him, just like seating himself in a chair, smoking a cigar, looking at you all smug and horny and thinking of all the different things he could use you (and your holes) for

Absolutely does he exploit weakness and if you don't have a prior addiction, he'll get you one. He'll shotgun something straight into your mouth, mix something into your weed, put a pill in your drink, nudge you towards that alcohol you're trying to stay away from, he'll do it all. He'll get you so fucked up your entire body is buzzing and you're stumbling and you can barely even move and that's when he pounces on you, doing whatever he wants, looking at whatever he wants, touching wherever he wants, and you might not even remember it afterwards and you'll only find out when he shoves his phone full of pictures in your face to mock you

You can't stay closeted/hiding an interest for men around this creep because he'd be secretly feeding you like ecstacy or something that loosens your lips and has you blabbing all your secrets and feelings to him in a horny fucked up haze. The blackmail potential with this dude is IMMENSE. He'd get you fucked up and delirious and film a cell phone shot of you taking his dick and threaten to show it to everyone he wants to unless you do whatever he says (and he's already showing it to people behind your back anyways, but, it's to be gross and coo over how cute and sexy you look taking his loads, stuff like that)

Valentino would take that passion and talent for music that you have and do something gross with it. Oh you're an actor, huh? Good, good, so your reaction will be experienced and authentic when he asks you to bring him a coffee on set and suddenly you're being literally dog-piled on by like 5 ripped hung hellhounds while cameras are rolling :) he thinks he might have an interest in your body, oh, suddenly there's a mandatory employee calendar photoshoot where you he to wear a thong or something skimpy and he can see everything but your genitals (and can tell whatever the situation down there is if you were trying to hide it. Fat ass? Exposed. Secretly a grower/hung? Exposed.)

At the end of the day you're his bottom bitch no matter how big or tough or maybe not even gay you are, because he even has lesbians cuddle up to him for Hot Girl Clout and that shit was on his Instagram. Everything's about him having pretty trophies and nice things and pampering himself while treating others like shit. Yeah, you'll be his little caged pet he obsesses over, but you'll be a very decorated, very well-fed, very financially spoiled little caged pet. If you're gonna get regularly railed by some nasty huge egotistical demon, it might as well come with some sweet perks like a deep bank account and all the luxuries his self-absorbed ass can afford, right?

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere stuff #valentino x reader #sinprompts

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ikaikaaaron · 8 days

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Man O' War Virtue

iimpressively complex and refined. Notes of oak, cream, nuts and a toasty, buttery smooth finish make up the core profile. A strong lemon zest profile as well. Size 5.5 x 52

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vintagegeekculture · 4 months

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RIP Tracy Tormé, Creator of the "Holodeck Malfunction Episode" and Sliders

Tracy Tormé’s most enduring legacy in popular culture is that, while a writer on TNG’s tempestuous first and second seasons, he created the entire concept of the Holodeck Malfunction Episode.

Yes, even people who suggest you skip TNG’s first couple seasons say that “The Big Goodbye” is one you don’t want to miss. And there was a very nice tribute to Tracy Torme in an episode of Picard, which had him as the author and creator of Dixon Hill… which he is, and deserves credit for this.

I suppose I should mention I had a personal encounter with Tracy Tormé at a convention. The main thing I remember was that he looked absolutely terrified when someone asked him about what happened with “The Royale,” far and away TNG’s worst episode except the clip show, about the crew getting trapped on a hotel they can’t leave from a badly written book. To his great credit, he took responsibility for the episode not working and did not pass on the problems to the production crew.

The most extraordinary thing about Tracy Torme is that he had a Forrest Gump like ability to appear in the background of scifi culture’s greatest moments.

Not only was he inside the TNG writers’ room in 1987-88, he was around during the production of Terminator with James Cameron. Tormé was the one who, hearing about the production of the film, squealed on it to Harlan Ellison, telling Ellison that it was based on his old Outer Limits episodes, with a visual based on his script for “Demon With a Glass Hand.” In other words, he was the Gavrilo Princip who got that entire conflict started, where two of the most proud personalities in scifi butted heads, James Cameron vs. Ellison. Cameron, to this day, insists that the film company gave Ellison money and a credit because it was easier to pay him off than to go through litigation (which rings true, frankly, for risk averse production companies), and to this day Cameron insists, with his absolutely expected big dick swagger, that Ellison is a “parasite” who received money for nothing, and if it had been up to him, he wouldn’t have given him a dime.

It’s also worth mentioning that Torme also created the TV series Sliders.

Has anyone else noticed that Sliders is an incredibly right wing show? Seriously, watch it again if you haven’t seen it in years. If you haven’t watched this show since the 90s and you were a kid and all that went over your head, it’s kind of amazing how Limbaugh/Newt Gingrich era right-wing Sliders actually was. It made 24 look like Doonesbury. The targets of Sliders were 90s New Right satire: health care systems, infuriating hippies, the nanny state disallowing the public smoking of cigars, California weirdness, the drug culture, the USSR. Torme’s right wing views were less John Millius-style “blood alone moves the wheel of history” stuff, but more like that of a slobby regular joe in the 90s, Dennis Leary’s character in Demolition Man for instance, who mostly just wants to smoke cigars, ogle girls, and eat hamburgers without getting scolded by his wife. He was less “Passion of the Christ” and more “Animal House.”

I am not saying this as a negative, but merely a description. Contrary to popular belief, right wingers driven by bizarre sexual pathology and weird grudges produce amazing art, as Millius and John Swartzwelder show. A lot of Steven Universe fans love to say things like “all good art is about empathy and kindness” and I reject that notion. Good art can also be about reflecting things in the human experience like fear, trauma, cruelty, and paranoia.

For that reason, it doesn’t surprise me that Tracy Torme’s best movie script was a horror film about a traumatic experience, Fire in the Sky. An ominous movie about a vanished ranch hand who was the victim of alien abduction, in the earned finale the film’s tension builds toward, our hero remembers the true cause of his missing time: an abduction by aliens, who’s motives are emotionless and incomprehensible, and who subject him to horrific vivisection that we see in excruciating detail. Travis Walton is treated not with sadism or cruelty, but with icy detachment, by alien superintellects that view him as no different than cattle, and are to him as we are to cattle. The most terrifying detail of the film is that the classic “gray alien” look turns out to be spacesuits, revealing a far more frightening appearance underneath.

#tracy torme #tng #sliders #terminator

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god-complex-12 · 4 months

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Atychiphobia

— Paring; Capt. John Price x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Atychiphobia: (n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

Quote; “You’re perfect.” “Not anymore.”

Description; An Angel falling in love with a human is sinful is the face of judgment, and is to be dissipated. Disclaimer; Reader is an Angel. Religious based. Christianity. Talks of sinning. Reader is a fallen Angel. Descriptions of pain. Not an accurate representation of the religion. God is referred to as “Father”. Kissing. Tears. Praying. Begging for forgiveness. More of the reader’s relationship with God rather than the reader’s relationship with John. Religious trauma.

Word Count: 0.6k

Masterlist

Over the hundreds and hundreds of years Y/N has lived, he has never once thought he would find himself here. Y/N loved being a Guardian Angel. He found a passion for protecting those who deserve it, and that feeling of joy he got when his Father assigned him to a human was indescribable. It was no different when he was assigned Jonathan Price.

As the Angel slowly worked his way into the man’s life, over years of working with him. He found an attachment to the man, but brushed it off because he does that with every human. He finds himself in Task Force 141, second in command to Captain John Price. Though it wasn’t hard for the Angel to work himself up to that status and he could even surpass Jonathan, but he doesn’t need a high status. All Y/N needs is to watch over this man.

“Jonathan, you shouldn’t smoke so much.” Y/N said, placing a warm cup of tea onto his desk.

John’s eyes flickered to meet Y/N’s. “Why do you call me that?” He asked suddenly, putting out the cigar in the ashtray. “You’re the only person I know that calls me by my full name.”

Y/N smiled warmly and shrugged. “I’ve just grown accustomed to it.”

Then there was a brief silence. They stared at each other, almost longingly. John breaks away first with a deep breath. He straightens himself in his seat and grabs the cup. “Thank you, Y/N. For the tea.”

Y/N nodded. “Do you need any help?”

John paused, looking over at the paperwork. He knew he could finish it within an hour, but he wanted Y/N to stay.

It seemed with every passing second they grew closer. Accidental touches turned into purposeful ones. A tension growing with each glance stolen, begging to be snapped. Those late night meetings, turning into late night talks, turning into something more intimate.

Y/N’s hand holds the side of John’s neck as they kiss. The other kept him propped up on the desk. John is standing between Y/N’s legs, his hands on the Angel’s thighs. John pulls back only to whisper, “You’re perfect.”

Y/N hopes his Father will forgive him for this. He shook his head. “Not anymore..” He whispered back, but before John could respond, Y/N’s lips found his.

But in the face of judgment, his Father had no mercy. Y/N was dissipated from heaven the minute he got to report back. The Angel finds himself kneeled in his room with an unfathomable pain shooting from his back as his wings are ripped from his body completely. Even if it can’t be seen, it can be felt. He’s biting his own hand to muffle his screams as he writhes in pain. Blood soaks into his shirt and he finds himself clawing desperately to get off.

Y/N shakily pulls himself to his knees, resting his head on the side of his bed. He puts his hands together and whispers a prayer through his pained sob. He failed to notice his barrack door open.

“Y/N?” John asked, terrified by the bloodied sight before him. He rushed to Y/N’s side. “Y/N what happened?”

Y/N doesn’t respond as he continues to beg for forgiveness from a God who is doubtful to listen.

————

Part II

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thegnomelord · 4 months

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Seeing people be nerds in your inbox is so fun because I too!! A nerd who loves marine biology as a whole, used to bring an encyclopedia to school everyday in my early days.

But something else I really like are dragons and tbh it's got me thinking

What about a reader who's just a huge fucking nerd, like he joins TF 141 as a new recruit and the first time he sets his eyes on Price he's low-key jittering because!! Whaoh dragon!! Irl!!!! So cool!!!

"wh-whoah dragon"

".. yeah, got a problem lad?"

*rips off sleeve, revealing a dragon tattoo and furiously pointing at it* "I love.. dragon"

Like homie's too excited to realize how fucking weird it is to just, when you meet your new superior you just show him that you have a tattoo of his species.

Imagine asking him dragon related questions to see if the mythology books he collected when he was little said how dragons r was true.

So sorry this was like too silly or comedic or like unserious 😔😔 I just think dragons r cool

-🐙

Okay this is so cute because that would 1000000% be me like I was the biggest dragon nerd and still am.

But like:

Price doesn't know what your problem is. From the way you constantly look at him he ends up thinking you're some kind of fetishist or just see him an animal in the zoo, meant to be stared and pointed at.

He doesn't like the way he can feel your eyes watching his every move, every little twitch of his wing or move of his muscles would have his brain tingling with the sensation of your eyes on him. It was unnerving, and with all the shite on his plate Price didn't need to have you ogling him.

He isn't the least bit pleased when he calls you to his office, the butt of his cigar burning an angry red as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. "What's going on with you lad?"

It's not a question. It's a demand, vibrant blue eyes staring you down.

"I just... really like dragons." You admit, feeling like a teen that got caught with a playboy mag by your parents.

"Uh, huh." He grunts, leans against his desk. "Care to elaborate about your little obsession."

You can feel heat burn at your cheeks at his words, embarrassment gnawing on your gut. "It's nothing like that cap! I just, dragons are cool alright? And I just-" You attempt to explain to him how you just really like dragons, from when you were a little boy you loved learning all you could.

And Price listens to you, continuing to smoke his cigar while you ramble on and on, and he can't hide the fact that a small part of him is a little bit intrigued by the sheer passion in your voice.

"That so?" Price finally cuts off your rambling, a low rumble rolling in his throat, his inner dragon preening at the way you look at him, pupils dilated, heat obvious on your scent.

His wing spreads out a bit, making him look bigger, the bulge in his pants obvious. "Then how about I give you a hands on education?"

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #trinkets from the hoard #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #cod monster au #monster 141 au #monster au #cod modern warfare #🐙anon

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motzui · 5 months

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Okay but like imagine having sex with Alan and praising his body. Like you’re on top of him, you bend down and press a kiss to his lips before carefully tracing your finger tips over his scars. “I love you Alan, I love every part of you.” You whisper to him, trailing your hand over to his arm before you rub soft circles around the cigar burns that permanently stained his left shoulder. Alan feels warmth spread all throughout his body as he gazes at you lovingly giving him praise. Not gonna lie he gets a bit teary eyed before cupping your cheek and giving you a long passionate kiss and murmuring his sweet nickname to you as a way to show his appreciation. Next thing you know you’re on top of him as his dick slides In and out of you and you can’t help but worship his body again. “Mnh.. I love your body Alan.. so pretty.. ‘makin me feel so good..” you whimper out as you place your hand on the large pinkish mark left on his body from past experiences. You rub your thumb across it, adoringly. And In that moment Alan found himself falling for you again

But Idk, js shitty late night writing 😪

#mdhm #mdhm alan #mdhm game #alan orion #alan orion x reader #x Reader #reader insert #fanfic #aaaaaa #late night thoughts #drabble

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blingblong55 · 1 year

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Vienna- 141

This is based on a request.

Angst, death of a character, (spoiler it's you, lol), suicide, MDNI

Slow down you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then if you're so smart tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Backstory:

It was you, the one who always had everyone's backs. But who had yours? It was you, the same one who would get cleaning duties because you took the blame for everyone. The team couldn't sleep? oh, there you go at 4 am, 4 hours of sleep and making coffee and tea for your team. One time, a mission went wrong. Evac would happen with or without you five. So, you gave yourself up so the team could make it to evacuation. They held you for 15 hours before you ran off and back to base. Now, the question is, did your precious boys mind it? no, they swore you were already on base, no need for a search. To this day you have nightmares about that day. You cry, and make it known you are going through some form of PTSD. Not once have they mentioned getting you help.

Soap was sick one time, real sick. So as you naturally did, you made soup for him and prepared him for a nice time. And stayed up all night, despite having other duties in the morning. This was your life. And yes, maybe they didn't reciprocate their love or affection, but who could blame them. You were so young. In their eyes, you were just trying to fit in, trying too hard and for them, it just wasn't going to happen. But that was who you were. A natural giver and lover. That was until this past mission.

Too bad, but it's the life you lead You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need Though you can see when you're wrong You know you can't always see when you're right

--------

Things to a turn for the worse. Your own mind messing with you. And you finally did it. Like any coward, you killed yourself. It was fast and sudden. But soon you had met your Vienna.

It was a rookie that found you. Lying on the floor with the gun in your hand. They called Price. He naturally thought it was a prank from Soap. So he stayed in his office until his men were on the other side of the door. "Sir, they...they really did it" Ghost spoke up. Some regret and shame on his voice.

Turns out, you didn't have any family but them. That's why you showed them all of your unconditional love. At the bar, the four men told stories about you. "R/n once told me about some place, and said they wanted to visit it. It was their dream." Gaz said a sad smile on him as a drink warmed up in his hands.

"Vienna." Soap and Ghost were mentioned at the same time. It was true. You always wanted to go there. It brought comfort and you always gushed about it.

---------

You got your passion, you got your pride But don't you know that only fools are satisfied? Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true (Oooh) When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

There you were, hiding from the enemy with Ghost and Soap, Gaz on comms. "I want to go somewhere after this place.." you mentioned. "Where?" Ghost asked, somewhat annoyed you disturb the silence. "Vienna, I think it's beautiful. It seems kind and clean. I love it!" you smiled, just thinking of what the place must be like. The men stared at each other and discarded the small talk.

There was something, you know? It was peace, heaven, it was home for you. You ran from Austria as a kid because of your dad. And never returned once, it was the story you never told anyone. Because no one stopped and listened.

--------

It was just 2 days before your funeral. The men woke up, no coffee or tea set for them. Price didn't have the newspaper and a cigar by his keyboard that morning. Gaz woke up to no hash browns. Ghost was surprised there wasn't any chamomile, or earl grey on his mug. It was a strange feeling when Soap realised it was you who finished his papers, the same ones Price would make him turn in at the end of the day for rookie reports. Everything was silent. The telly is off, no morning show or new magazines by the coffee table.

It was so...empty. It wasn't comfortable or warm. You did all those things for them. You made sure that at least 10 minutes before they woke up, you would heat the common room so they wouldn't get too cold. One time you wiped all the tables and floors and made sure the telly was on the morning show so Ghost and Gaz could stay updated on their local news back at home. You walked in and they watched, telling stories about local bars the spokesperson would mention. So you kept doing it, every morning.

What was so strange was that they had depended on you for little things. Price opened the fridge, and to his surprise, the little lunch bags someone had made were not there. All the men swore it was a fan of them who did all these things, that maybe because they made all the rookies train yesterday, their biggest fan couldn't do their tea, or little lunch. But no, that was all you. You just never mentioned it to anyone.

All those little things were your love letters to them. The warm food, the warm mornings. The feeling of home and safety. That was all you. They had become unspoken words of adoration, devotion and love.

They all sat there. Soap regretted laughing at you. He hated how every time they all made fun of how you were, you'd shut down for a while. Your eyes were teary and your lip quivering. He cried thinking of all the stupid times they all belittled you.

Slow down you crazy child Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two (oooh) When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

-----------

You were having a bad day, it was usual, especially on the job. The team noticed how you were singing a song, it was so childish to them so they made fun of you for it. For you, it held such a deeper meaning. It brought you to the old you. The 6-year-old you, your parents holding your hands as you splashed around puddles. Your dad singing you that song over and over. How he had reached down and kissed your nose. Held you near his chest as he and your mum sang the song for you.

"Oh poor baby, go cry to mummy and daddy yeah?"

the men laughed. "Toughen up soldier."

"Probably has a whole bed filled with teddies," Soap said.

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

Soap would regret all his words. Hated how his last talk with you he pushed you away. "Not fucking now, Jesus, stop being so annoying!" You just nod and walk away. He didn't know but he was the last one who saw you alive that evening. Ghost hated how he always pushed you around like his personal punching bag at times. Price hated the times he yelled at you, how you looked at him with such teary eyes. He was the first man to yell horrible things at you. Gaz hated how every time you ate alone, he would pass by you and eat with other people. How you still were so kind to him despite his actions. The ghost of a smile on you as you two stared at each other before he told the soldiers a joke about you.

Oh, how they wished they showed you how much you meant to them. If only they had just 5 more minutes with you. How much they wished to have you for your birthday. Fuck, they didn't even mind remembering it. One look at your file and there it was. Your birthday and death date are all the same, just decades apart. They hated it. How much they had treated you like shit on your day. How soap never told you how much he appreciated you. Ghost and his stories, Gaz and his wild adventures. And price, oh price, how he wished you could've stayed longer.

They knew you reached it. You made your dreams come true. Vienna couldn't wait any longer. By this time tomorrow, you were back in Vienna, buried with your mum and dad. How the sky was probably blue, as their hero returned to their forever home. You would never grow up. No more dreams, no more a lover to hold. Just you in a coffin, away from the last people you loved like a family.

And you know that when the truth is told That you can get what you want or you can just get old You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through (oooh) Why don't you realize, Vienna waits for you?

A/n: so...I hope it was angsty enough for ya! Also, I know this is probably not the song that had ya all inspired, so for that sorry

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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