#I THINK ITS ONE OF THE BEST THINGS IVE EVER WRITTEN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eveninggstar · 1 month

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victory lap ⊹ ࣪ ˖

lando norris x rival!Mercedes!reader

26.08.24

୨ৎLando proposes a bet that if he gets pole and wins from pole in Zandvoort then he gets to not use a condom next time you and him have sex.

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smut

unprotected p in v sex, kinda bratty reader, lando smacks readers ass twice, sex on the floor, lando is controlling but in a good way, probs more

ngl this is prob the best smut ive ever written so far lol kinda like this one bc i love lando two wins!!! Also this is pretty long i dont know how many words

The tension between you and Lando had been building up for years. The two of you were rivals on the track, always pushing each other to the limit, but beneath that fierce competition lay something neither of you could ignore—an undeniable sexual tension that everyone seemed to notice. The paddock was rife with rumours, and even your respective teams had exchanged knowing glances whenever the two of you were around each other.

It all came to a head one balmy summer evening at Zandvoort. The Dutch Grand Prix was notorious for its challenging circuit and passionate fans, and both of you were ready to put on a show.

You were lounging in your driver room, going over your strategy for the weekend when Lando sauntered in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his McLaren race suit unzipped just enough to give a glimpse of his undershirt. He was clearly up to something.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice dripping with that signature mix of charm and mischief. “How confident are you feeling about this weekend?”

You looked up from your notes, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Confident enough to wipe that smug look off your face, Norris. Why do you ask?”

Lando chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Well, I was thinking... How about we make things a little more interesting this weekend?”

Your curiosity was piqued. “Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?”

He leaned in close, his arms draped around your shoulder and his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make a bet. If I get pole position and win from pole, then the next time we have sex i don't wear a condom." He stayed silent for a few seconds, then leaning his face closer to your ear so his nose flattened, "Let me finish inside of you, baby."

A shiver ran down your spine at his bold proposition. You knew Lando liked to push boundaries, but this was a whole new level. Still, you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not from him.

“And what do I get if you don’t?” you asked, your voice steady despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

“If I don’t win from pole, you get to call the shots next time,” Lando replied, his eyes darkening with the unspoken promises laced in his words.

You leaned back in your chair, pretending to consider it, even though you already knew your answer. “Alright, Norris. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Saturday came around, and the atmosphere at Zandvoort was electric. The roar of the crowd, the smell of burning rubber, and the thrill of competition all combined to create an intoxicating environment. Qualifying was intense, with both you and Lando pushing your cars to the absolute limit.

“Lando Norris takes pole position!” the announcer’s voice boomed across the circuit.

You clenched your fists, a mix of frustration and anticipation bubbling within you. Lando had done it—step one of the bet was complete. But there was still the race to come, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

Race day dawned bright and clear, the sun shining down on the packed grandstands. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you strapped into your Mercedes, your focus narrowing down to the task at hand. The lights went out, and the race began with a flurry of motion.

Lando held his position at the front, but you were right on his tail, refusing to give him an inch. Lap after lap, you pressed him, looking for any opportunity to overtake, but he defended fiercely, his car perfectly placed at every turn. The tension between you both was palpable, each of you pushing the other to the brink.

As the race neared its conclusion, you realized that Lando was going to pull it off. He had driven impeccably, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t find a way past him. At this point you were nowhere near him. He had a 20 second lead and had lapped over half the grid.

Your heart sank as the reality of the situation set in. Lando had won the bet. As you pulled into the pit lane, you saw him celebrating with his team, his face lit up with triumph. But when he caught your eye, his smile turned into something more—something darker, filled with desire.

Later that evening, after all the interviews and celebrations, you found yourself in Lando’s motorhome. The air between you crackled with anticipation as he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and rough, “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed winning a race this much.”

You swallowed hard, your body already responding to the heat in his gaze. “You got lucky, Norris.”

He smirked, stepping closer until you were backed up against the wall. “I think we both know it wasn’t just luck, Y/N. Now, are you ready to pay up?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed his body against yours, his hands sliding up your sides. You could feel his heart pounding in time with your own, the intensity between you both reaching a fever pitch.

“You won fair and square,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s eyes darkened, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It was fierce, filled with all the pent-up desire that had been simmering between you for so long. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Lando didn't waste anytime before he urged you backwards towards the sofa. Your mouths slotted together and his hands groped and explored your body, going from your chest to your thighs. His hands manoeuvred the remains of your race suit to the floor, only leaving you in your fireproofs. With the reduced barrier, he could easily press against you causing you to let out many gasps and a few tugs to his hair.

Pulling away slightly, you mumbled into his mouth, “Lan, hurry up.”

He paused, eyes scattering over your features. His face was no longer the happy winner everyone outside saw. He was now drunk with a lust filled haze. He lifted himself up off of you slightly, bringing a hand to your face and caressing it with the utmost care. His breath felt warm against your face, causing your eyes to flutter shut. The calmness you were experiencing was cut short by the strong grip Lando had on your face, squeezing your cheeks and puckering your lips.

"You're the one needing to be faster." He practically growled, looking deep into your eyes. "Remind me who came first." He paused, awaiting your answer. "Who won the bet?" His voice sent shivers down your spine.

"You," you mumbled, then began to smile as his hand drifted to your neck. He returned the smile and slowly moved his face to the underside on your jaw. He kissed it sweetly, then tightened his grip.

"Louder, baby." He commanded, his words dark but mixed with the feather light kisses sent your head into another dimension.

"You!" You spoke up, earning a nip to your neck. He then came back to your face to then deepen the kiss you had earlier.

He moved your lower body so he could fit more comfortably between your legs. Your hands desperately gripped at his damp hair, needing to hold anything to ground yourself.

You felt the hand around your neck slowly trail down the length of your body before settling at your groin. Your legs attempted to close shut, although his waist was preventing you from doing that. He began to work at your clothed clit, his thumb easily circling over the smooth fabric.

"Uh-" your voice cut off as he pressed on the dampening fabric harder.

"There you go, you're speeding up. Getting wet so quickly," He spoke condescendingly as he nuzzled his nose in your cheek. "Why cant you be like this on track?" He began to mouth at your neck, causing you to let out a breathy moan. As much as you hated Lando's cockiness, god was it hot.

“Shush.” You moaned, an audible show of your composure.

You could barely speak, Lando's thumb never faltering on your soaking clit. His body was overwhelming you, and you started to squirm. However, that same thumb stopped giving pleasure. Before you could protest, he was hastily ripping your fireproofs off. This left you bare and flushed below him. Your chest heaving up and down as his eyes scanned over our body.

He leaned up to nip at your ear, surely leaving a mark this time, as you expelled a breath of pleasure as his fingers worked their way into your slit.

Your words were lost on you, wanting to ask when he was going to get to the real reason of your bet. But in all honestly, you didn't care if he would carry on pleasuring you. However, you did want his fingers to enter you, to leave you wanting more of a stretch for days after.

His fingers left your aching cunt, leaving it to pulsate rhythmically. You reached out to hold his hand, an iron bruising grip you're sure of it. His race suit clad crotch bumped against your bare one, giving a shock of unexpected pleasure.

"Lan!" you practically yelled, your squeal bouncing off of the surrounding walls.

He shushed you, then ordered you to not touch yourself. He slowly slinked up off of the sofa, eyes solely focused of your slightly twitching body. The rest of his race suit joined yours on the floor, in addition to his fireproofs.

His cock sprung free, the tip beat red and dripping at the sight of you. Lando stood proud for what felt like forever. His left thumb was stroking his lip as he shook his head in the opposite direction. That's when he uttered-

"Get on the floor."

You submissive sex haze briefly broke, thinking you heard him wrong.

"The floor?" You pushed your body up, looking at him like he just asked you to get on the floor like an animal. Oh wait-

"I won the bet, baby." He smirked, eyes still raking over your nude body. "Floor, there's not enough space on the sofa for us."

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, you melted your way off of the sofa. You knew the position he wanted you in, he rarely fucked you when not in it. You laid on the floor for a few seconds, collecting yourself. Lando saw you laying there, not having you be a pillow princess he ordered you to-

"Flip around, ass up. I know!" You rolled your eyes, then did it. What you didn't expect was a harsh smack to your ass. You let out a mixture of a moan and a sound on pain.

"Enough of the bratty attitude," He smacked your ass lighter this time then gripping the plump, reddening flesh.

Finally, you thought, the head of his cock began to notch at your entrance. His fingers had intertwined with the nodded strands of your hair and he pulled up as his dick pushed into your cunt in a swift motion.

You both let out a groan of pleasure. Lando held himself there, letting you and himself adjust to the jaw dropping pleasure. This was the first time the pair of you were having sex without a condom, and god did it already feel a million times better. The pair of you had to focus to not cum straight away.

No words were needed between the four walls of you sex filled haven, as Lando thrusted into you. His palms splayed on your hips controlled your movements as his relentlessly bullied his cock further and further into you. You hands struggled to hold onto something, eventually finding solace in Lando's fireproofs.

His name was chanted like a prayer from you, in return you got delicious sounding moans and groans from behind you. You were sure his face didn't look all that different to yours in the moment. Pleasure filled, and only focused on the other.

His repetitive ruts and the bruising grip on your hips rendered you speechless. You wanted to say keep going, feels so good. But that was the problem, since the pleasure was that unbelievable you couldn't say. The loud sounds of sex echoed as your skin slapped in a fast tempo, each smack more pleasureful than the last.

Lando leaned closer to you, chest flat of you back. At every thrust you could feel the tense of his abs and the perspiration drip onto your equally sweaty skin. He began to mouth at your neck, settling for small thrusts whilst he was buried at the hilt. One on his hands slithered away from your hips and found solace on your breast.

His hot breath spread across your neck and down your spine as you shivered. His moans had turned to grunts and pants.

"Like it when you can feel me this good?" He grinned into your hair, leaving small kisses in his wake. "Like it when your this full?"

You wanted to nod, only giving a weak, stuttered head movement. The remaining hand on your hip drifted to your swollen clit. He helped ease you to completion.

"Aren't you glad I got pole." He teased you. "That I won. You wouldn't feel this good if I didn't."

You whimpered at his words, too turned on to be annoyed that he won and you didn't. But yeah, you were happy he won. He doesn't have to know that though.

You wanted to tease him, give him payback to what you were feeling, what you always felt with him, however none of that would be happening. He knew you like he knew the tracks the pair of you frequented, and knew that you were actual putty in his hands this very moment.

He picked up his pace, resulting you to let out loud moans and sexual noises of the like. The speed of his thrusts felt as if his dick was going to come out, luckily it didn't and you got the full pleasure.

His fingers at your clit sped up, he sensed how close you were solely on how your body tensed up.

"Come on, you can cum for me. I know you can-"

His hand came up as fast as his reflexes allowed, as you came. He slowly reduced the pleasure he was giving to your clit and eventually reached his own high. Your neck vibrated at the animalistic groan he let out into it.

Needless to say, the pair of you would be having more bets like this.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #mclaren f1 #mclaren #fem!reader #f1 #lando smut #lando norris smut #f1 smut #mercedesdriver!reader #rivals au #rival smut

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ghostarii · 17 days

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ECSTASY, FULL OF FREEDOM, PIERRO & CHILDE

ʚɞ unbound in the throes of ecstasy; free from strenuous morality and worldly tethers, you are where you belong. he knows your heart is strung on another, but he also knows that he can’t please you the way he can.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, stepcest, AGE GAP!!!, stepdad!pierro, ft. boyfriend!childe, ddlg themes, daddy kink, spit, possessive!pierro, infidelity, fingering, exhibitionism, face - fucking, dacryphilia, breeding, dry humping, manipulation, corruption kink, finger - sucking, cum eating / swallowing, spanking, praise, degradation, pet names, orgasm ruining / control, just.. just icky pierro, minors & dc antis do not interact.

NOTE ݈݇- ummmm 😅😅😅 welcum back me i guess ! ! !this is prob the most debauched thing ive ever written so nice comments n reblogs would be happily appreciated :3 this went a totally different way than i planned toward the end n it got pretty rushed but i hope u guys like it anyway

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 10.2k

BURNING, WHITE, HEAT. A surge of hellfire courses through your veins and it takes every semblance of power in you to not explode. Your thighs are tightly clenched, attempting to crush his ministrations but dexterous fingers are lengthy enough to continuously tease you. A featherlight brushing against your folds is enough to make you shiver against the warmth. You damn near slam your elbow on top of the table and bash your forehead against your palm, hiding the pleasure on your face as best as you can.

Pierro thinks you must figure him as a fool. He must be stupid to you—a blind idiot—if you think you can get away with this. He stifles down a grunt of disbelief with a sip of his water, deciding to no longer pay attention to the slight quakes of your body.

His eyes are instead fixed on the source of your tremors: the smug redhead who thinks he’s so clever. His left arm lightly jitters behind the table and if he were an idiot, Pierro might have ignored it. He might have ignored how close you two got. He might have even ignored the moans you quietly let slip. But he is no idiot. He is perceptive and right now, he is very angry.

He tries to hide it, to keep the daggers he stares at bay but his patience is thinning by the minute. Ignorance cannot be bliss when it is infiltrated—Pierro tries to turn a blind eye to your deeds but he is not allowed to. When the quiet of the upscale restaurant meets its lowest and your conversation has briefly halted for the allowance of enjoying your meal, his ears can pick up the leaking, sticky path your boyfriend’s fingers take. The sudden hitch in your breath and the calm slosh, slosh from between your legs is a dead giveaway and he can't help but look. He can't help but chew the inside of his cheek instead of his steak and grunt. Anything but, and he might blow the lid off his pristine demeanor.

Those eyes are sharp and you narrowly avoid their threat. You keep your eyes straight and only rarely do you spend a glance at Ajax. He finds pleasure in the way you tighten around his fingers when he presses that spot, right when your mother inquires about another insignificant detail about his life. He likes how you scratch the denim of his pants instead of the table, wordlessly begging him to stop as he brings you closer and closer—

It feels too good; the edging, the twirling, the danger—it births a reward too precious to sacrifice and that's why you don't stop him. You soil your panties and make a fool of yourself, making your mother pause the conversation one too many times to clarify your well-being. It’d be humiliating if it didn't feel so good.

With your thighs tightly clasped around his wrist and your heartbeat pounding through your clit, your orgasm just teeters at the edge, stray streams leaking to be caught on Ajax’s hand. He sends you a look of faux concern and you can just barely fight the urge to bare two rows of teeth at him menacingly.

Pierro, who has utterly capped his limit on how much of this shit he can take, opens his mouth to spew a question that may just humiliate you if you don't play your cards right. He’s a jest—his fun derives from the toil of others and you are his perfect target right now. Serves you right.

The words are quickly snatched from his mouth to his wife’s as soon as the words form on his tongue. A look of disdain is fought off as she tenderly asks you for the nth time, “Are you sure you’re feeling well, sweetie?”

You can lie to her with no problem. To him is where the difficulty arises and this moment, where your eyes have glossed and your body has folded, he could have blown up your whole spot. Ajax plays off the hand between your legs as though it’s on your stomach, using his right hand to gently rest against your shoulder and slowly pull you up.

She’s the idiot Ajax thinks Pierro is. The kind, not-all-there, and not wholly caring idiot who lets dirt build right under her nose—it’s no surprise that she lets you off with that pitiful “I’m okay…just some bad cramping,”.

“I’m sorry,” you breathlessly apologize, presumably coming down from your high. “I should��I think we should cut this short. I’m honestly not feeling too well…”

“Are you sure? You don't..wanna finish..?” Ajax asks you. The smile he hides peeks out behind his feigned frown and the innuendo immediately dawns on you.

Flustered and more embarrassed than you thought you would have been, you lock in your eyes a pitiful stare of Enough. As if that would stop his torment.

His hand slides from between your legs and rests against your thigh, sticky, wet fingertips tapping against your thigh…taunting you. Questioning you.

Your mother patiently awaits your answer as her eyes swivel around in search of a waiter while Pierro continues his glaring assault. There's a narrowing of his eyes that he continuously enacts, as if to warn you, to beg you to try it if you dare. Disobeying him is a thing you've never done but this sly motherfucker beside you has pushed you to try your luck.

“I mean…I do want to—but, I don't think I can. At least, not here, not right now…” you slide your bottom lip between your teeth gingerly, pleading eyes boring into Ajax’s. A look that’s commonly reserved for Pierro, and for the first time, angers him to see it.

Ajax fights back his grin but fails desperately. He nods, turning to face your mother and stepfather. “Well, we should get the princess home and taken care of, shouldn't we?”

Your mother takes the time to gush, drawing out an amused awwww at the pair of you, wrapping around her husband's arm and leaning against it. “How sweet! Isn't he sweet, Pi?”

Staring directly at you, with nothing but a blatant grimace, Pierro nods. “Very sweet.”

Timidly, you avoid his gaze. It does you no favor, either way.

She continues her rambling and all of it goes in one ear and out of the other. Pierro cannot stop staring. Ajax whispering in your ear and the grip you have on his shirt. The glisten that’s wiped off his fingers and thrown haphazardly atop his meal scraps. The devious, wide smile that hasn't been shaken this entire encounter…

Pierro has never wanted to slap someone more. Even more so, he’s never been this angry with you.

“You got the bill, right, hon?” Your mom asks him, the first one of her sentences to penetrate his thoughts.

You and Ajax are standing beside the table now, his hand comfortably resting low on your hip and your body slotted against his. From where he sits, Pierro can smell you. The familiar, decadent sweetness wasted against your thighs calling out to his memory and begging the perversion to rise from the dark recesses and take you against the table— and it only gets worse when he raises his sight to look at you, only to be able to catch the slightest glimpse of your soaked panties pushed to the side.

He looks you in the eyes, a look you hate to see awaiting you when you return the favor.

Pierro nods, turning to your mother with an almost pained smile. “Of course.”

Back to the two of you, gaze sharpened and narrowed, he continues, “You two should go on ahead.”

Ajax is quick to take the dismissal with a cheery grin. One that—more than anything else tonight—pisses Pierro off. “Ah, thanks, Mr. A! Here,” he takes a minute to fish his wallet out of his pocket, “For our part and the tip,”

To you, his attention turns. “Are you ready to go?”

You say nothing but nod instead. Your eyes can't help but surf to your stepdad and you almost offer him a look of pity—a gleam of sorry in your eyes. He spares you not a single look, and with Ajax’s upbeat parting words, the two of you slip away hand-in-hand.

Your mother’s smile is proud. It’s proud, and certain, and genuine, and it makes Pierro angry. Right now, he could expose you to your mother and make everything worse.

“I like him, hon. For her, especially…I’d say it’s perfect but I don't wanna jinx it,” your mother giggles. Pierro’s eye twitches. It takes everything in him to relax because, truly, Ajax has done nothing wrong.

He might be nothing short of perfect and possibly the best thing that could ever happen to you and yet, Pierro can't find it in himself to be happy. That anger is a gnarled form of envy that paints him green. And it’s by the grace of God that nobody but the only one who matters can see that fervent shade on his skin.

He keeps up the charade with your mother with another strained smile. “Yeah, good for her.” He sounds less than enthused but for her sake, she does not pry.

Pierro wants to hate Ajax. It makes it so much harder that he cannot.

━━━━━━

Pierro’s eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. A crystalline gleam—meant to light up under the sky and shimmer like a star of hope. Looking into his eyes gives a cool mystique that urges you to get lost in them. Oftentimes, you do, finding that at the end, awaits you is a warmth far too comforting.

It’s different when those eyes glare back at you. Boring into your very being with a scrutinizing narrowing over every little mistake. The dimness of the house intensifies their stare to the point that you can feel them before you see them.

Your breathing is almost shallow as you trek up the stairs and your eyes are wide and shifty. Your heartbeat has turned irregular and is skipping beats—the mere uncertainty he imposes working overtime in unnerving you. Pierro is not nice when things don't go his way. Even worse, he’s unpredictable. Mostly, he’s vile.

What awaits you is only a mystery that you wish to leave boxed.

Approaching him at the top of the stairs, you slide your hand into his gingerly, hoping that the kindness will grant you some leniency. “I’m sorry I’m late..” you gulp. “I— We— Ajax had stopped to—”

With your hand in his, Pierro has power over your autonomy. He pulls you into him, using his left hand to slot against your waist and hold you against him. Everything he does is in complete silence and it unsettles you.

His eyes rake over you time and time again in the same span of seconds. Your face, near fearful and apologetic, to your upper body, stiff and unsure, to your lower half, turned in on itself and now, of all times, prioritizing modesty. Now, you seem to have an ounce of shame and Pierro can't call it anything but pitiful.

He lets a beat of silence pass with you in his arms. “You’ve disappointed me.”

You part your lips in a silent gasp, wholly surprised that he hasn't tossed you around yet. To his statement, you respond with a light clutch of his button-up — and to that, Pierro huffs. He’s not hearing your crocodile tears and unenthused excuses so you can save it.

“I’m upset that you let that happen. You let him touch you like that in front of me…” His fingers tickle up your back and you instinctively press into him more. A frown stretches over your face - mostly out of concern for where this is leading. Partially because his words genuinely do hold weight.

Raising your head to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” leaves your mouth incredibly timidly.

His eyes are softer when meeting yours. It almost seems as though he’s immediately forgiven you and in the wake of that thought, you feel better. You feel like leaning into him further is no longer a gesture of fear but comfort. So you lean impossibly closer, nuzzling your head against his chest comfortably. His feigned sense of security has you under his palm like an idiot — a blind fool in the lion’s den.

“Did you like it? Did it feel good…better?” He purrs, lips moving against your head as he kisses you. That's enough to muffle his words but you hear him clearly. The tenderness he exudes works to juxtapose against his instigating words.

“Well…”

“Well?” He catches your trail. He tightens his arms around your body and traps you against him.

It’s almost oppressive; you’d say so if it wasn't for the familiarity it brings. But it contrasts with the grit in his tone — a sharpened edge prodding at you menacingly, just waiting for you to say the wrong thing to impale you.

With a gulp too audible coming from you, you shrug warily. As much as you want to, you can't lie to him. “It wasn't better…but it wasn't bad…”

Humorous. What a humorous attempt at trying to not anger him further; Pierro has to stifle a laugh at your expense but you can feel the humility.

“Did you cum?” He asks straightforwardly. His left hand trickles down your back and brushes against your waist. His fingers brush the hem of your skirt out of the way and slide to grope your ass, using one finger to slip between your thighs and collect the wetness. At that, he notes the lack of underwear. You, so daring, so racy, let that asshole take your panties as a souvenir. His voice grows deeper—angrier—as he inquires further. “Did you cry his name? Maybe you called him baby. Maybe daddy—”

“No!” You interject, a bit too loudly, at that. “No—I didn't. I would never.” Because you’re my daddy—you choose to omit that part.

He only laughs. Somewhat menacingly, but brightened when your eyes catch his grin. “Do you want me to praise you for that?”

“Do you think you deserve that?” There’s no escaping his questioning; you're trapped. He knows you hate being talked down to—you hate the confrontation, the disappointment, the dissatisfaction with you and he does it on purpose. He catches the way you avoid looking at him and blink rapidly, airing away the mist that comes to paint your eyes.

It takes you a moment to shake your head no, your entire face dropping at the action. You were wrong, you were bad, and now he won't be nice to you. He's going to use you, he's going to fuck you up and make you wish you'd denied Ajax altogether.

“I’m glad you know that.” He says, condescendingly. “I’m going to show you what you deserve.”

With his gruff admission, the hand on your ass grips tighter and you gasp silently. When your eyes meet once more, he sends you a look that you know all too well: one you can't say no to, and one you’ve grown to not ever want to say no to.

Your toes are bent as you push yourself up to meet his face, arms naturally sliding up and around his broad shoulders.

Lips closer than they've been in weeks and eyes locked more seriously than this entire night, you two fall into a pit of risk, leaning closer and closer. You try to lean in and he only offers you a ghostly peck. Breaths fanning each other and lips gingerly caressing the other, Pierro utters out one last request: “Say you deserve it.”

He controls your body spiritually — a carnal desire is unleashed within you that makes you stupidly want him, pressing your lips against his softly, wantonly, “I deserve it.”

It’s obvious that you give into him. Stumbling into that bed of forbidden desire, tangling in the sheets of lust.

Pierro wastes no time in pulling you into your bedroom, covering your tracks with the hallway light flickered off and your door locked. He’s overzealous and nearly rips your clothes off of you, every touch housing a raging, impassioned fire.

You let it happen — letting him guide your way and taking control. Your mouths slot and move alongside one another disgustingly perfectly and if it didn't feel so fucking right, you’d grimace and scream your head off. Instead, you take him down with you, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him on top of you, needing him more than you should.

The world becomes a mere distant memory as he licks into your mouth, finding your tongue to dance with and suck on. Your legs stretched around his body allows him to bunch your skirt up, grinding his clothed hard-on against your bare cunt. Kisses are subsequently broken by squeaky moans and you, a puddle under his touch, can do nothing but that—leaning your head back when the friction overcomes you and kissing back is no longer a priority.

Sloppy, wet kisses trail from your mouth to your cheek, then to your ear, then down your neck, then to your collarbone. Your somewhat modest neckline is then pushed out of his way, allowing him to lay a barrage of kisses against your skin.

No words are exchanged verbally but in every action they’re screamed. Pierro wants to lay claim on you, to purify your body after being defiled by the redheaded miscreant you call a boyfriend. You went out of his sight and returned with a pest on your hip and nothing besides anger overcame him. In all its jagged forms: envy, bitterness, resentment, desire—Pierro had been waiting to take you down again, to remind you who you truly belong to.

He sucks and nips fervently at the skin until you whimper and wince and unknowingly confirm the existence of a mark there. An uneven, ugly blotch to claim you as his.

This is repeated across the expanse of your neck and chest, an uneven pattern drawn in his wake. When he pulls off of you, your face is knitted in shocked pleasure and your body chases him: hips bucking toward the air in desperate search. He hangs over you, using one hand to grab your cheeks and squish them up. You're so fucking cute, he could chew you up—among other things—but right now, he coos menacingly at you. “Cute.”

When he fully removes himself from you, sitting beside you, you know what awaits you. When the clattering of his belt hits your ears, you know what you need to do.

What you need to do is show your daddy his place in your world; so, begrudgingly, you sweep yourself up onto your knees.

His hand comes to the back of your head to softly cradle you and you lean into it, fluttering your lashes at him in hopes of receiving his leniency. He, however, is a punisher, and your knife in his back won’t be forgiven so easily.

“You’re so lucky I even touched you,” he grits. His thumb strokes your cheek and creates this sense of security. It’d be calming if you didn't know him. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

“You are,” you pout. “It’s just—I like Ajax, too. I’m confused…”

He sits up slightly, capturing your glossy gaze in his. “Do you like Ajax or love me?”

His eyes flicker to your clutched thighs and you cower slightly, feeling the regret caving in your chest. The pout you sport curves wider and Pierro almost smiles at how easy it is to dig at you.

You open your mouth to answer but he shushes you, shaking his head no. The hand on your cheek runs to your backside and palms your ass, slapping the flesh with intensity. The sound rings off of the walls and the impact resounds in your body, rippling through with an itching sting left in its wake. You whimper and look up at him, watery eyes meeting a merciless crystal blue. Tenderly rubbing the spot, he continues, “Show me.”

You do what you're told and that's what Pierro cherishes about you. That's what makes him red in anger at the pure idea of you showing this to anyone else—being this for anyone else.

Ajax doesn't deserve a sweet girl like you. He can't take care of a sweet girl like you.

And you can't take care of a man the way you take care of Pierro. He won't allow it.

You manage to pull his cock from behind the waistband of his boxers. He’s pulsing furiously in your palm and the weight he carries makes how feverishly he’s been needing you painfully apparent. He leaks a creamy stream of pre and it awaits your attention. Just the light hold you keep on his shaft elicits a groan from the man and his hips involuntarily buck upward, wordlessly signaling his need for you.

The slightly salty bead swims onto your tongue as you kitten lick the tip, gingerly beginning to stroke half circles around his cock.

He clears his throat, slamming his palm against your cheek again, “Don’t tease, baby. Take it in.”

You oblige his request and slide him onto your tongue. You hollow your cheeks and grimace as you try to fit as much of him into your mouth. Slobber dribbles out of your mouth and cascades down his length, creating a moat above the hand you keep tight around his base.

The longer you keep him there, the harsher your gags get — you sputter around his girth before pulling up for air, gasping in a dramatic heap of air. He chuckles at you and uses his thumb to wipe away a string of spit on your cheek.

“You can do better than that,” he coos. “Go deeper.”

Again, you pull your lips as wide as they can stretch around him. You try to swing your tongue around his girth as skillfully as you can accomplish, swiping at the prominent vein that beats for you.

He groans out a curse, throwing his head back while simultaneously gripping the back of your head. “Deeper,” he growls.

You try to slink deeper, but he presses at your reflex, a messy series of gags slopping around his dick. Still, you persevere: unfolding your lips to wrap around his girth and suck harshly.

“Shit,” he drawls, pushing your head down further. “Just like that; you’re so fucking good for Daddy.”

Your hands move to his thighs and attempt to claw at them, but you're left gripping his slacks. Your mouth quickly becomes tired as you try, and the light bob you facilitate grows weak. Subsequently, Pierro takes control: placing both hands on your head and pushing you down.

You swallow around him but it doesn't subdue the echo of your gagging. He bottoms out in your mouth and you can do nothing but sputter and choke, letting a lake of slobber spill down his length.

It becomes messy extremely fast with Pierro on the reigns. He thrusts into your mouth in tandem with pulling your head down, creating a nasty rhythm that you can only be a variable to.

“That’s it, princess,” he praises breathily. The smile you try to make goes unnoticed, but the swarm in your stomach doesn't.

He’s relentless and desperate, only offering reprieve when your eyes grow foggy and your breathing shallow. His hips stutter and his balls throb—Pierro is on the brink of pleasure that no amount of imagination can give him. Your mouth is a warm piece of heaven that warms and leaks all over him, soiling his pants in a mixture of spit bubbles and precum. It’s nasty, but it’s your nasty: something only you can do for him. He has you in the palm of his hand, doing exactly what he wants, being exactly who he wants you to be, and he couldn't ask for you to be more perfect. His palm cracks down again on your ass, almost as a sign of commemoration.

Gray brows are furrowed and knitted and the struggle to keep his eyes trained on you is real. Every time the back of your throat squeezes around his cock head he chokes on a guttural moan, your praises gliding off his tongue like butter. The arrangement is near perfect and it’s doing its weight in placing pleasure upon the man. He’s at pleasure’s mercy and finds himself in the pits of thought, stumbling upon the feeling of love. Pierro has found true escape in you and everything you can do for him and that is why he can't let you go.

He can't let you go—not when you whine around his dick and send him the most perfect vibrations, pushing his orgasm over the edge.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses. He holds your head tightly in place, not allowing you a bit of space to move as he cums. “Take it all…yeah—”

A series of hushed, deep, groans escape from his mouth as thick splashes of cum spill into your mouth. The spurts pool on your tongue and the fullness of your mouth becomes too much to bear. Your warning slaps on his thighs let him know to let you come up, and with your cheeks bubbled to hold his release, you breathe your first breath of cool air.

He chuckles at your expression, holding out his hand for you to lean into once again. “Open up.”

You take a moment to swallow before brandishing your tongue to him. He grins proudly, glaring at you with a soft expression. You wrap your hands around his arm, kissing the heel of his palm before nuzzling your cheek against it again. Fluttery eyelashes are passed at him as you gingerly inquire, “Did I do good, Daddy?”

“Great, baby.” He confirms, sitting up. “I knew my girl could do it. You always can, always so good for me.”

The praises go straight to your core and reawaken the unfinished business he left you with. He knows what to say to make you melt and unfortunately, you do. Melting in his palm makes you susceptible to anything he says. It's only a given that when he asks you again, “You’re going to be my girl forever, right?” you answer immediately with a strong nod.

At that, his confident grin grows and he leans forward, pulling you into a kiss.

The taste of his cum is prominent on your tongue and he sucks the flavor off, gathering it in his mouth before distributing it back into yours. It's nasty and he repeats it until your head is hazy and you're chasing his lips. His hand around your neck is able to hold you up just centimeters away from his lips.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

━━━━━━

Yellow is your color.

Pierro thinks the color compliments you beautifully—like you were meant to bask under a golden kiss of sun. He likes the way it snugs in your curves, unable to hold back your supple skin with its thin tethers. It’s too much for the world to see — a sight supposedly for Pierro’s eyes only — but you trot around without a care in your bubbly head. That, in itself, does not bother him; Ajax on the other side of the door, does.

Ajax catching you in his arms bothers Pierro. The man can't help but stare from his viewpoint, following Ajax’s wandering hands from the small of your back to the curve of your ass. He unabashedly palms the skin and you only giggle, smothering his face in welcome kisses and strawberry lipgloss.

When your feet are back on the ground, you're nuzzling against him as if you’re scared of detaching from him, and he wears that same coy grin as always, wrapping an arm around your body as you begin to lead him toward the backyard. You speak indistinctly and Pierro’s envious glare seems to have no effect on you. Ajax senses it, however; and as though he is throwing it in Pierro’s face, he pulls you closer as his free arm raises to wave at your stepfather: “Hey, Mr. A!” Leaves his mouth cheerfully.

The grimace Pierro wears is only half-stifled and he doesn't care to fix his face. He nods at the young man, “Hello to you too, Ajax.”

You avoid his gaze skillfully but that look of guilt is not missed. That only irritates Pierro further: his thick eyebrows furrow and his lips waver downwards. If you know it's bad, why do you keep doing this?

It must be a beckoning of his attention—and if that’s the case, you have it wholly in the palms of your hands.

Again, you speak hushedly to your boy toy. Pierro’s eyes hone in on the movement of your lips: so soft, so tender, so kind as they murmur against Ajax’s ear. Whatever you say is undetermined by Pierro — but judging from the stiffly excited mannerisms Ajax thereafter enacts, he can only imagine.

“We were going to head out to the pool…” Finally, you address him.

Confidence is strongly prominent in your voice despite your trailing off. Compared to the soft, undefiant tone you usually direct toward your daddy, your strength is all-telling: Ajax has built up an over-confident backbone in you. Not so luckily for you, Pierro has no qualms about breaking it down.

So, instead of shooting his ire through glaring daggers, Pierro smirks. He smirks and shrugs with one shoulder, following the action by gulping down the final swig of his midday pick-me-up. “Alright then,”

“Have fun.” The words are supposed to be encouraging but, if anything, they're daunting.

The air gets tense, noticeably so. Ajax awkwardly clears his throat and the intense staring match you and Pierro hold is severed. Your eyes shift to the ginger and you force a convincing grin to pull at your lips. “Let's go.”

Ajax lets you lead the way, purposely avoiding looking at Pierro. In your thirty-second trek to the backyard door, his gaze only intensifies. Holes are burned into your back and you shoot straight up when his voice calls out to you again. You act as though you're in a horror movie: slowly turning your head over your shoulder for fear of what awaits your back end.

“The guests’ll be arriving soon,” he informs. “Your mother’s going to be back and finish setting up out there.”

His information seems to be his acknowledgment of your transgressions. You plan to defile his claim on you in the very home he takes you down in—he’ll be damned if you cross that line.

You’re playing a dangerous game with no incentive for you. As he departs, stalking away upstairs to get a clear view of your actions from his office, the thought that maybe, just maybe, his frustration is your incentive, brings a smile to his face.

That thought dawns the idea on him that he has created an insatiable, debauched monster, and it's in his hands to tame her.

To you, you don't know what you're doing.

You like Ajax. You like the way he treats you, the way he talks to you, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you—you’re chasing his lips desperately as he pins you against the wall of the pool, wanting to take him under the water and drown with him. Maybe then, that icky turmoil brewing in your stomach would subside.

You like Ajax; you want him. But you need Pierro. Even as your boyfriend kisses you feverishly, your eyes are wide and glued to the second-story window that you know Pierro is watching you out of.

He gives you something that you hate to require. Those big, buff arms wrap around you, and those chapped, experienced lips speak words of comfort to you that all your life, you've only ever wanted. Pierro promises to love you forever, be there for you forever, and protect you forever — he promises to be the sole male constant in your life: the only man you’ll ever need. You're inclined to believe him because he’s made everything you've ever wanted come true. But—Ajax; those things can come from him, too.

His kisses are softer than Pierro’s but just as impassioned—if not more. He’s receptive to your impatience, licking his way into your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours messily. Moaning into your mouth to let you know that the tugs on his hair feel good, gripping onto your waist to grind your clothed cunt against his knee, pulling apart and cracking a smile at the connected string of spit that hangs from your puffy lips, telling you in a hushed whisper “I missed you,” to butter you up and melt you in his palms. Ajax is nicer with how he treats you. He kisses down your neck to punctuate his sentence. His kisses halt their trail at the apex of your collarbone, leaving his eyes to peer up at you wantonly.

“I missed you too,” you breathe out. You did miss him and his delicacy. Your eyes flash up to the window and you feel relief at the unmoved curtains — returning your gaze to your boyfriend and smiling at him. Inviting Ajax to your parents’ pool party was your way of convincing yourself. What happened between you and Pierro can be replicated with someone who you can be with and someone who can be with you.

What you want is that trophy love: that pedestal in someone's heart for every envious eye to watch you atop of. You want to be loved loudly and proudly, and Ajax can do that and so much more, for you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and he leans into your touch, craning leftward. He looks at you with wide, beating hearts in his eyes, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. “I think we have a few minutes alone…”

Those hearts turn into a mischievous sparkle, “I can work with that.”

Quickly, he’s reconnecting your lips as his right hand wanders from your waist to beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasp into your kiss as his middle finger surfs through your folds, immediately prodding at your entrance.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper, briefly looking over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of movement behind the curtains and it halts your breath. “We don't have time,”

He laughs against your face, smooching from your lips to across your cheek and to your ear. He nips the lobe just as he pushes the tip of his finger in and you move your hold onto his shoulders, gripping tightly. His tongue flicks gently at your ear as his finger slowly inches in, and with its slender length, beats of quiet breathing and airflow pass before he’s knuckle deep. “You wouldn't mind getting caught,”

The digit is swiveled around before he presses the rough pad of his finger against your gummy sweet spot. You hold in a moan by biting your bottom lip but the sound leaks out in weakened whines. “You never have before.”

Anyone could see what you're doing and that thought births nothing but excitement coursing through your veins. Your pleasured scowl quickly stretches into a grin— and Ajax catches it, kissing your chin.

Soon, your hole is accommodating the entrance of his ring finger. The digits are thereafter scissored inside of your pussy and the water around the two of you ripples furiously. Your boyfriend has never been particular about being discreet and this occasion is no different—if anything, he’s showing off. At least, Pierro seems to think so.

Pleasure blinds your eyes so the man standing in the window is missed by you. Every bit of your awareness is being fingered out of you; Ajax’s agile fingers dancing around in your hole seemingly spooning out your senses. Nothing, save for the hot source of ecstasy pooling in your core, matters to you. You're grinding down on his fingers, whining out wantonly as low as you can but it's in vain—your sweet, pleasured hymns can be picked out by Pierro’s ears.

It irritates him but he does not stop watching. He can't—not when you're about to cum and you're gripping so tightly on Ajax. You're leaning over the edge of the pool and scratching your back against the rough gravel with desperate abandon. The movement of your lips is unidentifiable from his distance, but knowing you, you're probably pitifully begging for him to make you cum.

Ajax has the liberty of controlling your pleasure and he does so amateurly. When you plead once again, babbling out his name, Ajax obliges. He says to you, unheard by Pierro, “I’ve got you, baby. Cum on my fingers.”

His fingers curl and roll against your spot and your moans are ringing out unabashedly. If your mother or the guests were to arrive and stroll up your driveway, there’s no doubt they wouldn't be able to hear your laments over the bushes. Carelessly and blissfully, you sing your boyfriend’s praises as he presses you toward your climax, wriggling his fingers inside of your tightened hole through your orgasm.

Pierro watches you shake and jump under his touch and his eye twitches. Here you are, parading your freedom in front of him again. He’d turn you out and worse in that pool if it wasn't for your mother. She is his way to get to you and if she were to find out how he defiles her daughter in ways he doesn't dare do to her, he’d be deprived of his vice.

He doesn't notice the white knuckle grip he keeps on the window sill until his fingers begin to ache. Pierro is envious of a red-haired prick half his age and size and he couldn't be more embarrassed. It would be you—only you—to make these juvenile feelings rise so fervently within him.

The way Pierro feels for you is skewed and indecent and so, so raw. It’s unexplainable in simple words and he doesn't dare waste his breath on telling you sugary things to make you stay. He claims you, bares all of his imperfections to you as you do him, and anchors you to the bottom of his endless pit of debauchery alongside him. Yet, you can still swim out of his grasp and into the slimy hands of another like-minded, perverse predator and that won't do.

His body is moving before he can scramble up an excuse to intrude on the two of you. Unaware of his appearance, you're slipping your hand into Ajax’s swim trunks, passing your thumb over his slit featherlightly.

He sighs out shakily, grabbing your forearm. “We shouldn't start something we can't finish.”

You, full of confidence and arousal, flash your signature, convincing doe eyes up at him. “We should’ve thought about that earlier then.” You rebut, leaning in to kiss him just as you begin to pump his length.

Pool water is terrible lube but the softness of your hand makes up for it: Ajax is moaning into your kiss and lazily bucking into your hand. God, everything is so perfect right now. The warm sun, the cool water, the sweet breeze, the—

“You two already got in?!” Suddenly, the back door is sliding open and your mother steps out, hauling two large shopping bags in each hand. You and Ajax jump apart, trying your best to turn around and meet her inconspicuously.

She seems to not notice, but Pierro, who comes out after her, has that knowing look that when it greets you, all nervousness centers itself in your bones. Your mother had beaten him to the back door by a mere second. Had it gone his way, the two of you would be pissing yourselves shamefully.

Ajax picks up the slack of maintaining your cover: picking his feet up off the pool floor and kicking off the wall, swimming toward your mother. “Yeah, sorry, Mrs. A!” He apologizes, hoisting himself out of the pool to assist her. “We just wanted to test the water,”

He nods at you to come join and you quickly follow the notion, hopping out of the pool and walking around to where they stand. Your mother pulls floaties and noodles and boxes of miscellaneous decorations out of the bags, setting them down on the ground and table. With her gaze focused downward, you and Ajax are able to share looks over her back: his eyes sending you an assured glare and wink and yours sending back worried gleams.

“We’re good,” he mouths, and before you can give him a response, your mother stands up.

“How was it? It’s not too cold, is it?”

This time you answer her. “No; it was perfect.” You say, giving Ajax a look that tells him your words were meant for him.

Unbeknownst to your games, your mother cheers. “Great—I’m gonna freshen up and get changed. Can you…” she trails off and motions her hands around the abundance of new items. You catch her meaning and confirm her request with a nod.

As quickly as she appeared, she walked off and back into the house. Her missing frame gives Ajax the space to step closer to you, inching his hands around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

It's a gesture that, in all of its inherent sweetness, carries a suggestiveness that has you giggly and ticklish. You're unable to focus on the task in front of you and are instead fighting off the needy kisses from your boyfriend.

“Stop…” you laugh, your voice sounding wholly unconvincing.

He ignores your request, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and kissing the skin tenderly. “I can’t stop,” he says, muffled. “You got me started—”

He squeezes you tighter and deepens the kiss on your neck. His tongue flicks and flattens against the skin and your smile flattens as you sigh out, instantly melting into him. Ajax knows just how to weaken you, a power he shares with Pierro, and you are too weak to fight it. Those kisses are targeted at the perfect spot that fogs your brain and withers your standing. Your mouth wavers as he marks a hickey on your skin, and the smallest, weakest moans tumble out of your mouth.

“Ajax…” you whisper warningly, “We can't.”

“We can.” He argues, moving from your neck to behind your ear. He knows just how to tempt you and just as susceptible as you are, you fall for it. “Where’s your room?”

You go to answer—but the sight of him in your peripheral has your mouth drying up.

Pierro finally takes his first step outside and the sight he beholds is sickening. His left cheek is balled around his tongue and his eyes are as critical as ever. You have to pat Ajax’s thigh to alert him and he’s pulling off of you, his pale complexion flushing a blazing red. “M-Mr. A! Uh—”

Uninterested in his haphazard excuse, Pierro cuts him off. “Your mother is asking for you.” Eyes boring into you elicit every bit of shame to course through you in hot embarrassment.

Without another word shared, you scurry off into the house, passing Pierro with only a brief brush of your skin. You can feel the irritation radiating off of him and you shudder under that realization.

You've made a mistake. A very, very big mistake.

━━━━━━

All you want is to be with Ajax. Wrapped in his muscular arms, under the crisp sun and the chill breeze—sipping on homemade lemonade and biting into flaky club sandwiches—it is all so perfect, so right, for you. With him, nothing goes wrong—and yet, nothing ever goes right.

Pierro never seems to lag too far behind the two of you. After assisting your mother in picking which sundress to slip into, returning to blissful, summer day peace with your boyfriend proved difficult.

You find him beside the grill with Pierro, awkwardly chatting it up with his hard-on painfully raging against the inside of his blue swim trunks. And just as you appear to pull him away, Pierro magically fishes up a task for him to do.

“You can't go with him,” he says. “The kids are getting antsy. Why don't you bring out some popsicles?”

And so you do. Returning with a bag of popsicles and handing them out to the numerous children running around your backyard. And when you finish, Ajax returns, huffing out deep breaths and dripping sweat. Luckily enough, one cherry popsicle was left over.

You’d finally managed to get Pierro off your back—your mother and her girlfriends required his immediate attention in the kitchen and drew him away from the backyard. So you and your lover are offered a moment of reprieve.

You straddle his lap, peeling the plastic off of the popsicle and tapping the treat against his lips. He’s receptive and takes the popsicle in, collecting the flavor on his tongue. You watch him intently, locking eyes with him and keeping that contact as you pull it away, leaning in to catch the taste of his mouth.

The cherry flavor is abundant and even sweeter on his tongue. Keeping it PG is out of the question when you're sucking on his tongue so feverishly—no longer chasing that cherry taste but instead him. You need him bad and judging from the twitching in his cock, he needs you just as bad.

“Baby,” he grunts, using one hand to cup the small of your back and the other to bring the popsicle back to his mouth. He tries to halt the subtle gyrating of your hips but you are determined to slot his shaft between your folds through your layers of swimwear. “It's too risky out here. Let’s go to your room.”

You laugh, beating him to it and briefly wrapping your lips around the top. “I never thought I’d hear you say it's too risky,”

“But, okay,” you sigh out, pausing your ministrations and sitting flat on his lap. “Let's go, then.”

Eager as could be, the two of you gather your things off the lounge chair and race to the inside of the house.

Successfully, Pierro’s attention is missed, and you make it up to your bedroom. Once the door is closed, you're jumping onto the bed with abandon and begin making out feverishly. Hours of built-up tension come crashing down upon you as he pins you down, wedging between your legs and rutting desperately against your pussy.

“Ah,” you moan out, arching up into him. His head is buried in the cavern of your chest, suckling and smooching along the valley. Your skin is supple and easy to latch onto—he’s losing himself in your scent and softness and taste. You pull at his hair, jerking your hips upward for more. “Please, ‘Jax; give it to me—”

Unbeknownst to you, Pierro is on the prowl. Hours have passed like minutes and soon the sky has melted into a rosy yellow and the guests have slowly begun to peel out.

His eyes search for the pair of you and upon coming up empty, his attitude is tweaked.

“Honey?” He calls out to his wife. As he returns to the inside of the house—sparing brief dismissals to the parting guests—he feigns sweetness toward her.

She, still occupied in the citywide gossip among her girlfriends, only lazily pays mind to the inquiry of her husband. “Um, hold on, dear—Tiff did what?!”

The group of women laugh and continue explaining the messy affair of some woman named Tiffany and Pierro could not care less. He doesn't care about Tiffany’s affairs; it’s yours that calls monopoly over his mind.

You must have been able to sneak off with your boy toy. Curse your attention-hogging mother. Had it not been for her, you wouldn't have been stripped from beneath his palm so stealthily.

Once he gets his hands on that ginger brat—

“I think I saw them go upstairs earlier.” She says it so passively, so dismissively, Pierro almost digests the information normally. Almost.

He doesn't even know which question to pose to get the answer he wants. So, he doesn't. He lets an irritated grumble fall from his mouth as he turns on his heels. Useless. She is ultimately useless and it’s times like this where Pierro wishes he’d met you first.

His footsteps echo up the stairs but to your jaded ears, they're nonexistent.

You sit atop Ajax now, rocking feverishly back and forth along his cock. Your hands are planted on his chest and his hands are on your waist, aiding you in your grinding. This is more passionate and needy than any other experience you've had with Ajax thus far, and the weak babbles of his name tumbling out of your mouth prove that.

Friction builds furiously in your heat and sends electric waves splashing through your veins. It’s what you've been looking for all day: a climactic, ardent affair to invoke the most needed orgasm of your life.

Maybe with this one, how you feel will be solidified.

You're rocking hard, knocking your headboard against the wall. Pierro can hear it as he approaches the top of the stairs and he wonders how much audacity you have.

The next few seconds are a blur: his footsteps approach, and so does your orgasm. You cry out your boyfriend’s name as he encourages your climax, and Pierro wraps his hand around the doorknob. You throw your head back as your orgasm seeps through the floodgates and the door swings open.

So far gone, so unaware in your blissful paradise that Pierro’s looming figure behind you doesn't matter to you. His presence is intense and suffocating and over your shoulder, Ajax catches the sight of him and stiffens up. Their eyes lock and every daring bone in his body is snapped to hustle you off of him. “Babe—”

“What?” You huff out, breathlessly. “I-I’m so close, ‘Jax—please…”

You peel your eyes open against their heavy will, looking down at your boyfriend. That shadow cast on the wall ahead of you catches your attention first. You recognize the silhouette but it isn't until you peer over your shoulder and catch that icy glare that you're all too fearful of—now, anyway.

In your shocked jumping off of Ajax, you manage to roll off the side of the bed and collapse to the floor with a screechy yelp. Ajax struggles to get himself together: fumbling around with his clothing and jaggedly standing up. “M-Mr. A—! I—”

The look Pierro sends has him clamming up and nervously laughing. There's no need for excuses or coy innuendos—you’ve been caught. Now, you need to be punished.

Without a second glance back, your boyfriend scrambles up his things and takes his leave. You want to call him back in, but all courageous function ceases to work before him. With Ajax gone, it's just you and Pierro, and never has that thought scared you before as it is now.

He closes the door and takes short, heavy steps toward you. You stay on the floor, folding your legs behind you and using your planted hands for stability. At this, the difference between the two of you is exaggerated: he stands tall and big over you, the curled bambi caught between a rock and a hard place.

Dense silence hangs in the air. Your lips quiver and shift, as though a jumble of words wish to spill but you don't allow it. You don't allow those tears that mist your eyes to fall out either, rapidly blinking back the flow of guilt. Just the unsure air he imposes makes you want to burst into tears and plead your case.

He continues to say not a word; taking a seat on your bed and only using his hand to direct you onto his lap. The motion is so small and insignificant but it terrifies you no less. Pierro is a jest: a jack of unforeseen trades and when he is ticked off, every nasty card up his sleeve comes out to play. You find yourself obliging with your head hanging low, saving yourself the intensity in his eyes.

When you sit, his arms embrace you. They slink around your waist and hug you into place but they are anything but comforting. It’s suffocating, it’s tense.

A moment is taken to breathe you in. Burrowing his nose against your neck and scrunching the feature distastefully at the overwhelming spicy scent atop your soft skin. Ajax— you smell like Ajax.

“I thought I made myself clear the last time.” The deep timbre of his whisper rumbles in your spine. It startles you straight and the confrontational air pulls out your weakness. You hate trouble, you hate being bad, you hate how he does this to you.

His breathing is soft on your neck. It tickles but it doesn't make you want to laugh. You want to cry and beg for his forgiveness. I’m sorry, Daddy, I really am! You think to cry. I’m yours, your good girl, Daddy!

Nothing comes out of you, so he continues. “I give myself to you because I care about you. Everything you could ever need is right here with me, so answer me: why?”

Your expression is pained and guilty. He knows you better than you do and he knows how to sucker punch your heart. You thought your day with Ajax would clarify the conflicting feelings in your heart, but your time with Pierro unwinds all assurity.

Tears roll down your cheeks and you struggle to put together a sentence. “Daddy…I—” you hic, a sob tumbling over your words. You turn into him and string your arms around him, weeping onto his shoulder and soiling his shirt. “I-I'm so confused…”

“What are you confused about?” His question holds not an ounce of sympathy. Still, he soothes your back with his palm, ushering out every guilty tear you weep. “I do everything for you, with you, to you—what could he be that I couldn't?”

Kind, gentle, tender, freeing. Ajax is the silk breather in your synthetic cage. He gives you a bright, lightening feeling that, against Pierro’s uncharted depths, saves you. You can't tell him that you’re finding love in Ajax. He’ll raise every dead flaw right out of you.

“Tell me what to do to make it better.”

You don't even notice his hands slipping under the cups of your bikini top. Your nipples are caught between his fingers, softly being tweaked and pinched until the tight pebbles stiffen the bud. Your cries gradually subside until you're sniffling and hiccupping, noticing his absent-minded ministrations and pulsing cock under your ass.

The worst part about realizing your position is that you don't want to escape. Maybe letting him have his way with you again will lessen the load on your shoulders. Anything to blur the confusing lines.

“Has he ever seen you cry like this?” He asks. You shake your head no. “He wouldn't even know what to do to make it all go away, would he?” No—you shake your head no. “What would you do without me? Huh?”

“I don't know.” You’d be normal, maybe. You wouldn't depend on him to fix what's always breaking inside you. You'd love and date and experience life without the debilitating crutch of your daddy there to hold you back.

With Ajax, nothing goes wrong but nothing goes right. With Pierro, everything goes wrong but everything feels so right.

So skewed, so lost, so unfounded, your relationship is the pinnacle of gnarled. He is the leader of your abyssal path and yet, also your savior from it. A world without him in it is hard to imagine — and when you're on his lap, in his arms like this, it’s hard to want to imagine it.

“You don't ever want to know, do you?” Again, no—you’re shaking your head no as though it’s the only motion you know how to do. “Then stop driving me away. Let me love you.”

He’s kissing over your skin, palming your boobs softly. It’s familiar and safe and you know that in the end, he’ll still be there. Etched in your skin and mind, reminding you that there's someone to fall into when life becomes too much. You can lean into Pierro with security—and just like that, all of your valiant agency is melted away.

“Okay,” is the only word you say, and it's the only word he needs.

━━━━━━

Nine days. Pierro has called you twelve times, texted you thirty-seven times, and has lost his mind three times in the nine days that you've been gone.

You're mad at him, he understands that now. He pushed you and drove you away, he understands that now, so why can't you answer his calls and talk to him?

“She needs space,” your mother says. She wraps her arms around him from the back and smoothes the wrinkles in his shirt. “She’s grown and in love and needs her space to flourish, Pi. Don't suffocate her.”

Okay. He would have left it alone at that. When you need him, you’ll come back; you always do.

But your mother could not let well enough be. “Besides, she’s with Ajax. They’ll be keeping each other company while we…”

The rest of that was lost in his head. Evidently, Pierro is not getting across to you. When he spoke to you that evening of the pool party, that was to be the last time that redhead’s name was thought of, and, yet, here you are, running into his arms.

It wouldn't drive him crazy if he didn't have you first. If everything you've ever known and done wasn't by his hand. You are his little girl, his prize at the end of a tiring marriage, his happy ending after a long day, his.

His instant joy— Ding!

Pierro’s phone is in his hand in seconds. The deep snores of his wife let him know that tiptoeing away won't be necessary. Your name, decorated in a sole red heart, pops up two more times, and before he unveils the messages, his mind swirls with the string of excuses you're probably typing out.

The texts are short and insignificant when he lays eyes on the attachment. A three-minute and forty-eight-second video with your glossy, smiley face in the thumbnail. He swings the door of his office shut and sits down, immediately pressing play.

You're giggling in the immediate beginning before your laughs are morphed into a string of moans. The angle fixates on your face, downturned and droopy in pleasure—a face Pierro is all too familiar with. Catching sight of it on the other side of a phone is angering, to say the least.

Wet slopping is heard in the foreground, competing with your moans for volume. It’s slow and romantic—in and out, in and out, in and out—each thrust eliciting a shallow hiss from behind the camera and a pleading whine from in front of it. The angle shifts just as he breathes out, his pale hand drifting from the side of your waist to massage your clit. “Like that, baby? That good for you?”

You hum in confirmation, bucking up into his hand. “S-so good—mmfh, ‘J-Jax—!”

He laughs behind the camera, zooming into your sloppy cunt. You're dripping: thick, glossy beads of slick pooling in your slit and spilling around his dick. It shines a gleaming reflection under the light of the flash and Ajax is quick to rapidly rub through and splash your arousal around. The clicking sound that elicits is viscid and resounding but the pleasured sobs you choke out are louder. He moves the camera up to your face, streaks of tears splashing down your hot cheeks.

His fingers intrude between your parted lips and you immediately slurp your arousal off his fingers. “So nasty…what if daddy saw you like this?”

The tone in his voice is teasing- patronizing, as though the total wreck you are before him is a joke. You open teary eyes to stare into the camera, a wide grin pulling at your lips around his fingers. Your pupils are wide and blown: an endless, dark pit of lust that when appearing on the phone seems as though it’s entrancing Pierro.

Your hands wrap around Ajax’s forearm—and you moan one last time around his fingers, swiveling your tongue around the digits before pulling them out. You bring his hand to wrap around your throat, grinning wide. Those lustful eyes leave the camera and presumably to Ajax behind the camera and your lips part slowly. “You are my daddy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ajax mutters behind the camera, and the stability of the angle wavers. The pair of you share breathless laughs.

That motherfucker, Pierro thinks, gripping the phone tighter. In the final twenty seconds, Ajax curses under his breath, putting your pussy in view. His pace is a lot sloppier and desperate now and his voice cracks as he moans your name. “‘M gonna cum—”

You draw out a sharp whine, using your fingers to pinch and feverishly flick your clit. “Please..” you breathe out. “Cum in me, Daddy.”

The video ends. Pierro cannot believe his eyes nor his ears—you—he can't believe this.

He doesn't bother reading the next incoming messages. He’s already racing downstairs and yanking his keys off of the hook.

Pierro’s a jest and the joke is about to be on you.

171 notes · View notes

bearw-me · 4 months

Note

Can we have poly Asmodeus and fizarolli with a s/o who's a k-pop idol ?

my first polyyyy i'm so excited! bless anon!

𝐀𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐮𝐬 + 𝐅𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐇𝐜𝐬

𐐒 ft : (poly!) asmodeus x kpop idol!reader x fizzarolli 𐐒 cw : fluff, cuddling, slight angst 𐐒 summary : general hcs! 𐐒 note : may i be the first to say this was the most wholesome-heart squeezing thing ive ever written/imagined

Asmodeus arranges shows for you in his club in the Lust Ring, if you have time, and they are special events he doesn't host very often (mostly because he adores you and wants you to be shown off, but also because he hates the way his sinners view you in the Lust Ring: objectively)

He LOVES singing with you

Fizzarolli is the one to attend ALL your shows, waving his light sticks in the air happily, probably cheering the loudest.

Asmodeus doesn't really like PDA unless its for his shows or a performance out of respect for your public image, but Fizz is a little more weary, mostly because (like in the show) he doesn't want to be the one to drag the two of you down

They both LOVE your dances and choreography, and the fact you allow them to have opinions on your outfits.

Cuddle Hcs: Asmodeus loves to be in the middle, holding the two of your smaller bodies against him or both next to him on one side (he can definitely manage to wrap his arms around you both, so he does) and Fizz just likes having you both near him, having the smell and warmth of you both close is enough to have him finally fall asleep

If you're off on tour, Fizz has to call you every night and check in, holding you on the phone until you absolutely can't talk to him anymore (bonus if you just fall asleep with him and he can hear you snoring. it melts his heart) and he turns to Asmodeus until you're back

Despite being popular in hell themselves, Asmodeus and Fizz never actually try to "take advantage" of your fame, only support you when you need it

Your literal husbands

Fizz is clingy, while Asmodeus is a more possessive/jealous type

but also don't think Fizz will just stand there and let some guy try to eye-f*ck you either (he WILL strangle someone)

Asmodeus has a tattoo, or a mark on his chest, for the two of you

Fizz would love to manage your socials if you asked it of him (or give you opinions on your 'best' pictures)

Surprisingly, Asmodeus is the one who wears your merch (the most), mostly as a sleepy shirt, but he would wear it under his usual three-piece suit if he didn't feel like dressing that day

I feel like (obviously) As would rehearse your songs with you, giving you feedback on your notes and tone while you sang, While Fizz would help you with choreo!

Fizz likes to cuddle with you in bed, snuggling his face into your chest and vent about the day or what bothers him

Asmodeus loves to be involved with your career and brings you things you might need like body glitter or getting your nails done, even bringing you socks that match your outfit better.

The poly relationship would work really well, and Asmodeus and Fizz could really depend on each other when one of them wasn't their for you.

As feels like he needs to protect and be there for the two of you, and gets anxious or apprehensive when he's not there with you both

And Fizz knows he can depend on the both of you, comforted even if you both weren't physically there to hug him

236 notes · View notes

foodiegoogie · 28 days

Text

what friends are for

sirius black x fem!reader ✮ 3.95k summary: you’re an overthinker at its finest; sirius is an overdoer when it comes to saving you from you and your thoughts. cw/tags: no use of y/n, highschool!au, biker!sirius (mentioned), too long for its own good,, nothing too heavy <3 also the teachers r still called professors here bcoz yes !

note: DAMN FINALLY ive finished this 😭 tho its still a little too long for my taste .. i am kinda proud of this :> this was a recycled thoma request, but since i kind of serve to the marauders audience now,, i decided to give it to sirius 🥰 happy reading! 🫶🏼

Having an overly active brain was both a blessing, and a curse. You loved your creativity and intelligence, and they definitely showed in your report cards. What you didn't like was how often you thought about simple, small matters, and then thought about it some more, and then some more after that. You were an overthinker at its finest. Everyone who knew you well enough would agree that you were a non-stop thinking machine, and they all hoped you would cut yourself some slack and give yourself a break.

“That’s easier said than done,” you’d say to them. Oh, what you wouldn't give to stop being a self-sufficient, but also self-pitying brainiac!

But, as they all say, old habits die hard. That is why here you are, in class, watching your teacher collect your test papers and slowly getting into the routine of asking yourself the questions—the what-ifs, did-Is, and the like.

You were bouncing your leg up and down restlessly while chewing on your bottom lip, looking very deep in thought, when you felt something hit your head lightly. A crumpled ball of paper landed in your point of view, breaking you out of the trance from overthinking. Picking it up, you opened it and smoothed it out to see what was written inside.

You look like you just murdered someone and are now burdened by your guilty conscience.

Despite your sour mood, you managed to let out a snort and a soft smile after reading the line. You could recognize the flawlessly cursive handwriting anywhere; it belonged to your good friend, Sirius Black. And knowing him, you knew better than to come up with a snarky reply and retaliate. Getting caught chit chatting with someone like him during class hours could land you in detention, especially now that the teacher inside your classroom was the one and only Physics Terror, Professor McGonagall.

So, you crumple the piece of paper back into its ball shape, and stuff it into your backpack. A few seconds later, you feel something hit your head again. The culprit? Yet another crumpled ball of paper, now sitting on your desk. Letting curiosity get the best of you, you open it up and read what's written.

Ok, rude? Guess you can forget about getting my help cuz I know a good place to bury a body :)

Softly chuckling to yourself, you shook your head and wondered why you were even friends with someone as bizarre as Sirius while you put the crumpled paper in your bag. For a while, you didn’t feel anything light hit your head like you expected. But just as you were about to spiral into another endless stream of self-doubt, you were hit again with a crumpled ball of paper.

Slowly, you turned around in your seat to glare at Sirius. You meet his eyes doing the same thing, and then gesturing impatiently at you to open the piece of paper he just threw at you. You stuck your tongue out at him out of spite before finally opening the piece of paper.

Y R U NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY?!

The sentence was written in bold black letters, underlined a bunch of times, and the punctuation marks at the end were twice the size of the letters. Having read the ridiculous note, you let out what might have been the loudest cackle you have ever let out in your highschool life.

You hear your name called out loudly by Professor McGonagall, in a stern tone that could only mean one thing for you. It felt absolutely mortifying to have your classmates' eyes on you, seeing their pity and amusement appear on their faces.

"You'll be seeing Mr. Filch for detention after class," She said, zeroing in on you with her piercing glare. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead in your seat by now, and Sirius could use his knowledge of good places to bury dead bodies so he could bury yours. "I hope you'll learn your lesson in your time with him."

"I will, Professor," You replied, the embarrassment reflecting in your voice. Great—not only were you unsure about your grade for this class, but now you had one more thing to be worried about, as well as overthink about.

Unable to take on your classmates’ pitying looks on you, you crossed your arms on your desk and laid your head down against them, hiding your face from the prying eyes of your classmates. You could not handle any more humiliations. But you also thought that nothing could possibly be worse than the situation you put yourself in.

Then, you were proven wrong.

All of a sudden, you heard your classmates murmuring around you. Lifting your head up to see what was going on, you saw a paper plane glide smoothly through the air before it landed perfectly on the stack of test papers Professor McGonagall was currently grading.

To some of your classmates, what happened afterward took less than a minute. But to the rest, including yourself, it seemed like eternity with how carefully Professor McGonagall dropped her pen, and took off her glasses. She picked up the paper plane and opened it up, narrowing her eyes at whatever was written inside. Unfortunately, none of you ever knew what was written inside. But you all knew that it wasn't any good, judging by the twitch in her eye and the frown on her face.

"Who does this belong to?" She asked, her displeasure clearly heard in her voice and seen in the glare she gives everyone in the room. A beat passes, and suddenly everyone is pointing fingers to someone sitting at the back of the classroom.

Though you had a hunch on who it was they were pointing at, you hoped that you were wrong; that it turned out to be some other classmate of yours who had rotten luck just like you. Then, you were proven wrong… again.

You turned around in your seat just in time to meet the mischievous eyes of your raven-haired friend. He even took the time to throw you a playful wink before clearing his throat dramatically.

"Good morning, Professor,” Sirius began, his hand closed in a fist like it was holding something near his mouth. “This is your captain speaking. It seems like my aeroplane experienced turbulence and crashed in your area. Terribly sorry, rookie mistake! Rest assured that I'll comply with whatever punishment you subject me to for the matter."

"In that case, good, because you'll be serving detention alongside your classmate here," Professor McGonagall nods in your direction. "I hope you'll both learn something about rudely disrupting the peace and quiet during class hours with unnecessary distractions." She smiled, although anyone could tell it wasn't to be kind. Then, she returned to her previously interrupted task of grading test papers.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. Of course, he'd get himself into trouble, you thought. You turned to look at him, catching his attention, and mouthed the words, "What'd you do that for?"

Sirius shrugged in reply, a cheeky smile on his face before mouthing the word, "You."

—

Genuinely, you have always wondered how you managed to land yourself a place in Sirius’ life as one of his closest friends. It was one of the things you’ve thought about over and over, but have never really gotten to the bottom of. Nevertheless, you will always be grateful for having a friend like him, even if he does give you a headache sometimes.

It turns out that serving detention wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, having been assigned under Mr. Filch’s orders of tending to the flora and fauna stored in the school greenhouses. In fact, you were actually kind of enjoying it, and Sirius being with you totally wasn’t a part of the reason why.

“You know, this actually isn’t so bad,” He remarked, spraying the lavenders with some water, a faint smile on his face. “I thought we’d be somewhere organizing Sprout’s herb collection or something.”

You laugh at his statement, “Not gonna lie, I expected something boring, too. But this is pretty nice.” You beamed at him, looking away from where you’d been adjusting potted plants accordingly where the sunlight was hitting.

“Who knew we’d be so good at gardening?”

“I know, right?”

Sirius chuckled in reply, and you joined in with him, taking the time to look at him before returning to your task. He looked especially handsome whenever he laughed; eyes crinkled by the edges with amusement, his pearly whites on perfect display as he smiled. It also certainly didn’t help that on top of the black leather jacket he wore, he was wearing an apron, and a bandana tied around his hair which pushed it back to act as a headband, revealing his forehead which glistened with a thin layer of sweat.

Sirius Black looked ridiculously handsome, and you didn’t need to think twice about that, because it was a well-known fact.

At that moment, you were so caught up in staring at him that Sirius caught you in action. It was already too late to look away and feign indifference for you as a smirk had started to make its way onto his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” He practically purred, his voice taking on a deeper, more flirtatious tone than usual. Your brain loses its ability to function momentarily before you quickly wracked your mind for a snarky retort.

“How original,” You quipped, trying to hide your momentary lapse in brain function at his unexpected tone. Sirius lets you get away with it, hiding a subtle smile of amusement to himself.

Turning back to a pot of chrysanthemums you’d neglected briefly, you decide to change the topic. “So I was just wondering,” You began, a curious lilt to your voice. “What’d you write on that paper plane you flew to Professor McGonagall?” You queried as you turned to face him again, placing your hand on your hip.

“Oh, psh, that old thing?” Sirius waved it off dismissively as he wrapped up with his task of watering the flowers. “Just a little piece of an opinion I’ve been meaning to tell her.”

“And just what was it you were meaning to tell her?”

Before he answered your question, he took the time to take his bandana off, wiping the sweat off his forehead with it. Then, he fixed his hair - running a hand through it and ruffling it up slightly. Inwardly, you had to admit, you almost forgot what you were talking about as you shamelessly watched him be… hot; and like he knew the effect it had on you—which he most likely did—he smirked at you. Again.

“I told her that dogs were better than cats,” Sirius smiled wickedly.

You gasped in horror. “No, you did not.”

“Oh, yes I did,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know how she feels about cats, Sirius!”

“Precisely the point, darling.”

To some, it would seem like something off of a controversial debate, like if pineapples belong on pizza for example. But to everyone who really knew Professor McGonagall well, saying things like that was just a recipe for disaster—with disaster meaning serving detention, of course.

“No wonder you ended up here,” You shook your head in disbelief at him.

“Buuut, like I said, it’s not so bad here,” Sirius opposed, untying his apron from the back and behind his neck. “Plus, I’ve got good company.” He winked at you before hanging the apron on one of the hooks attached to the wall of the greenhouse.

You didn’t— no, couldn’t reply to him, seeing how you were caught off guard with what he said. But it wasn’t like Sirius wasn’t good company for you, no. There was never a dull moment with him by your side. In fact, if it were someone else you were stuck with in detention, you wouldn’t have agreed with him earlier that serving it wasn’t so bad. And frankly speaking, if serving detention just meant extra time to hang out with Sirius Black, then you wouldn’t mind disrupting the peace and quiet of class hours every now and then.

Though that would certainly look bad on your report cards, so you mentally chastise yourself for even entertaining the thought. But you couldn’t deny that there was some truth behind it, at least. Or more than some.

“Let me walk you home?” Sirius asked as he regarded you with a certain gentleness in his grey eyes. You felt like melting on the spot, right then and there, as he lingered by the doorway to the greenhouse, waiting for your answer.

But you managed to pull yourself together, and smiled at him. “Sure.”

—

On some days, you would have just taken the school bus home, and Sirius would have just gone on his motorbike. Though in the past, he’d asked you countless times if he could give you a ride home, of course, because it was quicker and more cost-efficient than taking the public transport. But with the way your face blanched at his offering, and the way you kept spewing facts upon facts about how motorbike riding was dangerous (Sirius tried to reassure you that it wasn’t for very obvious reasons), he settled for walking you home instead.

While that had quickly become an almost regular occurrence for the both of you, Sirius always made sure to ask you first, despite the fact that he would have to go back for his motorbike parked at the school after. Knowing this, you tried very hard to kindly refuse him at first. But over time, you found yourself saying yes without a second thought.

At the same time, you refrain yourself from giving it much thought. It was simply a kind gesture from a really good friend of yours, and that was that.

A devilishly handsome, fiercely loyal, and incredibly caring… friend of yours.

Walking home with Sirius never fails to make you feel better after a long day at school. The both of you are instantly engaged in meaningful conversation, debriefing the events that occurred during the day. You like to think it’s a mandatory routine by how often you do it, how often it happens, and how natural it feels. It’s definitely one of, or maybe the best way to de-stress and relax after spending a whole day just studying and working.

If only he could keep the teasing to a minimum, though.

“I’m just saying, you know,” Sirius said, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked beside you. “You didn’t have to laugh that hard.”

You scoff in disbelief, the sarcastic reply bubbling up in your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it whenever I laugh at your jokes?”

“Never said I didn’t, love,” He responded, voice softening at the term of endearment used. “But you could’ve been saved from Minnie’s wrath if you hadn’t done that evil cackle of yours that you call a ‘laugh.’” Sirius chuckled slightly as he spoke, reminding you both of your embarrassment.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” You shot him a half-hearted glare, a smile threatening to come alive on your lips. “And second of all, it’s your fault that I accidentally laughed out loud during class.”

Sirius scoffed immediately, taking full offense as he turned away from you. “‘Accidentally,’ she says.”

“What? It’s true!”

“So I suspect you must have ‘accidentally’ found me funny, too?” He air-quoted.

You let out a sigh, feeling exasperated and slightly frustrated by his consistently witty replies. It seemed like Sirius never ran out of energy when it came to your banter, filled with incessant teasing (coming from Sirius himself most of the time, of course) and lighthearted jabs at each other. But even with your patience increasingly wearing thin with him, you found yourself looking forward to the banter every time. In spite of his knack for getting on your nerves more often than not, you liked sharing it with him. It was almost as if it was something only you and Sirius shared - intimate and unique to your dynamic.

“Whatever, Sirius,” You settled for a dismissive response eventually, rolling your eyes as you did so. Though you knew that he would take the piss out of you again for your lack of a snarky retort.

But to your surprise, the boy only chuckled in amusement, kicking a few pebbles and leaves out of the way as the two of you continued to walk. You didn’t think much of it, passing it off as a likely thing for people to do when they walk on sidewalks riddled with objects in the way.

(But little did you know about Sirius’ true intentions, though.)

After a moment of comfortable silence, you decided to speak up again.

“Hey, so I was wondering—”

Sirius interrupts with a snort of laughter. “When are you not?” “Please shut up and let me finish.” “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” he said. Though with the ever so present smirk on his face, and the hint of mirth in his eyes, you couldn’t tell if he was truly sorry. “What were you wondering about in that pretty head of yours?” You paused for a moment, thinking of how to phrase your question. Sirius gave you a brief glance, curious about what you were thinking of that had you pondering like this.

“Why’d you do it?” You finally blurted out.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that for me, love.”

Sirius earns the sweet sound of your chuckling, and he zeroes in on the slight flush that appeared on your cheeks, betraying your embarrassment.

“I’m talking about earlier, Sirius. During Physics? When you flew that paper plane to McGonagall?”

His lips formed an O shape as he came to the realization of what you were referring to. And as if the reminder was nothing but a lighthearted one, Sirius snickered to himself.

“And? What about that?”

You sigh, internally wondering how on earth he could find such a thing so amusing. Sure, perhaps Professor McGonagall had developed some sort of fondness or a soft spot for Sirius over the years he’d acted against her in his mischief. But the fact still remained that McGonagall was not to be taken lightly to, especially not during her class.

“I was just wondering why you would do such a thing. I mean.. it was certainly unprovoked, don’t you think?”

“‘Unprovoked,’ you say? Is that what you really think?”

There’s a shift in his tone this time around when he spoke, though there still remained the unmistakable, and ever so present hint of a tease in his voice. You studied his face intently as you thought of a response.

“Yeah. I mean, whatever did you do that for?”

Sirius sighed, though you couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration with you or exasperation. “Didn’t I tell you already? I did it for you, you daft woman.”

You resist the urge to scoff at his remark of you being a supposed daft woman. “I thought you were just messing with me there when you said that.”

“‘Messing with you?’ Why would I—“ He cut himself off with another sigh.

Oh, so he’s frustrated, you realized.

“You know, for someone whose mind runs a thousand miles per hour, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

You let yourself scoff by then, feeling indignant. “What are you on about now?”

Sirius almost smirked at your words, and you knew that by the twitch at the corner of his lips. You tear your eyes away from them, focusing on his eyes instead.

“Come on, you’re a smart girl. Surely, you know why I did that, and why I risked detention?”

Deep down, you had an inkling as to what he was telling you. But you refused to acknowledge it aside from the fact that it was downright ridiculous. After all, you firmly believed yourself to be out of Sirius Black’s league. Your dynamic was synonymous to one of those Paramore songs that went, “He was a punk, she did ballet. Can I make it anymore obvious?”

And as if he could read you, and sense your inner thoughts, Sirius sighed for what seemed like the nth time of that moment. Though now it had sounded almost… sad?

“Shall I spell it aloud for you, then?” He broke the silence, his voice deeper and tinged with seriousness.

“Yes.” Please. For my own sake.

He takes a deep breath first, although the both of you didn’t know for what exactly. But it felt like it was necessary for Sirius, and so—

“I did it for you, ‘cause,” He paused, seemingly trying to push the words out of his mouth. Why he was forcing them out, you didn’t know. “What friends are for, right?”

Well, admittedly, that kind of stung you inside. For a moment—a fleeting, hopeful moment—you wanted Sirius to say that he did it for you, and that was that. Just for you. For the sake of keeping you company, and letting it be up for interpretation on whether it was done under platonic intentions or… not.

“Yeah,” You nodded, mentally chastising yourself for ever expecting such a thing. “What friends are for.”

Sirius is looking at you pensively, noticing a hint of your disappointment in the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes, and in the way you looked away from him as you replied. He wondered why.

But, ever the one to cheer his friends up, Sirius clears his throat to catch your attention, his grey eyes glittering with mirth.

“And besides,” he added. “You would’ve gone mad if you served detention all alone. You’re kind of a danger to yourself here, love.” He ruffled your hair playfully as he said this, eliciting a smile from you.

“Hey! It doesn’t get that bad, you know,” You defend yourself, fixing your hair with your fingers. Sirius helps you out by tucking the wayward strands of hair, covering your face, behind your ear.

He snickered. “Trust me, love. I know how bad it can get.”

In truth, Sirius has always found it endearing—your knack for getting a little lost in your head more often than not. But he was also one of those people who wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you, to tell you to give yourself a damn break. So, he’ll take any chance to distract you from your thoughts. And if that meant angering McGonagall and serving detention, he didn’t mind at all.

The rest of your walk home goes easily after that, the lighthearted atmosphere returning despite the momentary shift to the slightest, almost imperceptible indication to the feelings you harbored for each other—though unacknowledged on both sides of the party in fear of losing the other.

Although, Sirius suspects that he’ll be brave enough for the both of you one day to bring these feelings into light.

In the meantime, he’ll let you get away with your acting aloof and coy about it. He’ll gladly wait until you’re ready to hear what he’s always wanted to tell you.

So, as the two of you bask in the orange hue of the afternoon sun, walking down the path to your home, you don’t realize that it’s only a few steps away until you’ve reached your destination. You were getting carried away (again) with ranting about tomorrow’s quizzes, and Sirius is trying (again) to calm your anxieties, and reassure you.

At the very same time, he realizes the increasing distance between the two of you and your home. He doesn’t make a move to tell you, and you simply don’t notice.

( ♡ )

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black fluff #foodiegoogie writes

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python333 · 1 year

Text

scary dog privileges — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur super duper scary to almost all 141 soldiers, but to price soap ghost and gaz ur just the sweetest little thing ever :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], no usage of c/n [call sign chosen for this fic is 'Cerberus'!], might sound kind of rushed/shitty :{

note normally i try not to rush fics BUT i started this at like 12 pm and as im typing this out its 11 pm and ive only written 2285 words so im kind of rushing this so i can keep up my little posting daily thing!! this idea has also been rotting in my brain for a while, so i might make a hcs thing from it, idk, but for now its just this fic!! also, thank you everyone who gave reblogged my last fic, reblogs are the best sorta motivation for a reader and i absolutely appreciate all of them :> anyway this is all fluff + comfort no hurt and has some soft!ghost in it because hes my dad and i love him so enjoy!!

The Private in front of you may as well have been pissing his pants with how scared he looked. His commanding officer, and one of your closest friends, Soap, had reported him to you for ‘insubordination’. He’d said, verbatim, when telling you about him, “I’d deal with him myself, but I’m too tired to,” so now you had to deal with one of his subordinates.

You sighed through your nose as you looked down at the Private in front of you, the latter comically small compared to you, both physically and mentally.

“Well?” You ask expectantly, raising an eyebrow at him, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” The Private shakily nods and you can hear him gulp, “Right, yeah, so basically, it was earlier this morning and I was following orders and everything, doing what I was supposed to, then I accidentally interrupted Soap while he was giving me orders, which I didn’t mean to do, I swear, I just wasn’t thinking and it happened and I just— I didn’t mean to do it. And then later on, we were both—me and Soap—talking with a few other people who I guess were some higher ranked soldiers from different tactical operations and I accidentally interrupted some of them. It was—” “I’m sorry, hold on,” You put a finger up to silence him, to which he responds with immediate silence, letting you talk, “You don’t accidentally interrupt someone. Either you do it or you don’t. You don’t just slip up and interrupt your CO in the middle of him giving you orders. Secondly, always refer to Soap as ‘Captain MacTavish’, or ‘Captain’ if that’s somehow too hard for you, don’t act like you get to talk about him like you’re both all buddy-buddy and—” “Okay, but if you’d just let me finish—” The Private tries to interrupt you, making you draw your eyebrows together in confusion. “Excuse me?” You ask, mildly offended that he had the audacity to interrupt you, “Did you just interrupt me?” The Private stays silent for a moment, looking up at you, wide-eyed. His whole face looks even more stupid like this—like he doesn’t even know what he did.

“I asked you a question, Private,” You remind him, leaning down a bit, tilting your head to the side questioningly, “Did you just interrupt me?” “Right, yeah, I did, sorry about that—” He tries to apologize, “Didn’t mean to. Swear.” “Right,” You narrow your eyes at him, standing back up straight and crossing your arms, “Remember what I just said? About not accidentally interrupting people?” “Yeah, I do.” “Could you say ‘Yes, Lieutenant’ instead of that?” You ask, “This isn’t a casual conversation. This is one of your superiors telling you that you can’t blatantly disrespect your commanding officer, so act like it.” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant,” The Private stammers, which really shouldn’t make your lips twitch at the corners but it does, and you have to fight off a smile, pursing your lips instead.

“Like I was saying earlier,” You continue your words from earlier, “In conversations like these, when you’re not out doing an assignment, I don’t want to catch you referring to Captain MacTavish as just ‘Soap’ ever again. And you don’t want me to catch you doing that either, you understand?” “I understand, Lieutenant.” “Good, good,” You nod, before gesturing for the Private to keep giving you his side of the story, “Continue telling me what happened then.” “Right, so, after that, Captain MacTavish gave me some new orders, and I felt like I had a better idea of what to do than him because I’d thought of something that makes more sense than what he told me to do, so I told him as such, and he acted all shocked like I didn’t have a really good idea, and told me that I was to follow his orders not the ones I tried to give to myself so I told him that mine were better and—”

“Have you read the military regulations and codes of conduct? Ever?” You interrupt, making the Private shut up almost immediately and hesitantly nod his head affirmatively. “I really don’t believe you. Everything I’ve heard so far is a direct violation of it, I just—” You pause to give a small, humorless laugh, “You have me speechless here, really.” The Private watches nervously as you struggle to find the appropriate words to say, before you finally come up with, “Is there more that you need to tell me about?” “… Yeah,” The Private answers sheepishly, making you sigh through your nose and gesture for him to tell you the rest. He clears his throat before starting up again, “And then he said that he’s the commanding officer for a reason and that what he says goes so I said okay and did what he told me to do. Then after that whole thing, he told me to go to your office and tell you what I did.” Why do I have to do all his dirty work? “… Okay then,” You look up at the ceiling and try to think of what to do, before taking a deep breath and looking down at the Private, muttering, “Well, I appreciate that you didn’t go into my office without my permission, at least you know not to do that.” You clear your throat before speaking louder, “Let’s head into my office instead of just standing out here. This is probably violating some sort of code…” The Private nods and lets you unlock the door to your office that’s just a few steps away and walks in after you, being sure to close the door behind him. He automatically sits at the chair across from your desk and you sit down at your own chair behind your desk.

“Right, okay, let’s see…” You dig around the drawers of your desk, before letting out a small ‘ah-ha!’ and pulling a corrective action assignment form out of one of the small drawers of your desk and setting it onto the top of your desk. You grab a pen from the small cup by your desk and write down the date on the form in your usual neat handwriting.

You read a question on the form and look over at the Private, “Could you give me your full name, please?”

“John— John Williams,” The Private stammers again, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Your name is John-John Williams?”

“No, just John Williams, Lieutenant.” “M’kay,” You write down his name and fill out a few more things on the form before signing it off with your name and looking over at the Private once again, folding the paper in half as you do, “I’m gonna trust you to bring this to Soap, and tell him that it’s from me. You think you can do that?” “Yeah, of course,” John breathes out, grabbing the paper from you as you hand it to him. “Yes what?” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant.” “There we go,” You sigh and lean back in your chair, “Go on and pass that to him. And tell him to send anyone else who’s being insubordinate to Ghost or something, anyone but me.”

John simply nods and gets up, walking out your office door and making sure to close it behind him. You cap the pen you’d used and put it back in the cup where the rest of your writing utensils are, before yawning and leaning forward to rest your head on your desk when suddenly there’s a sharp knocking at your office door. You muffle a groan and wait a moment before calling out, “Come in!” You watch as your door slowly opens, making a creaking sound that hurts your ears a bit, and much to your annoyance, yet another Private is standing in your doorway, looking just as sheepish as the last. “Oh my f— you know what?” You stand up and take a deep breath to momentarily calm yourself, “Who sent you? Was it Soap?” “… Yes,” The Private answers, their voice shaky as they speak to you, the whole thing only making you more annoyed. “Where is he right now?” You ask, walking towards the door and opening it wider, towering over the much smaller Private in front of you.

“The— the training facility.” You blink at the Private and you take another deep breath to calm yourself. “Yeah, no sh— ugh, you know what? Thank you. Just—” You look up at the ceiling and tell yourself not to snap at this poor rookie, and look back down at them, “Just follow me. I have to go yell at him.”

“What?” The Private asks dumbly, their eyes widening a bit in surprise. You don’t bother to look over your shoulder and check that they’re following you, instead just walking out of your office, somehow hearing their footsteps even with the thundering stomping your boots made as you walked.

You eventually made it to one of the training facilities, the only one that currently had anyone in them, and opened the door louder than you meant to. You walked in, the shaking Private behind you as you walked up to Soap and took several deep breaths to calm yourself, ignoring the several rookies that stared at you as you walked over to him. You could hear small whispers forming amongst Soap’s small platoon of soldiers, but ignored them as well, simply walking up to Soap, who finally noticed you. He turned to you and gave you a knowing grin, like he knew exactly why you were here. “Hey, L.t—” “Why have I had two Privates coming into my office telling me you sent them because you couldn’t do your damn job?” You question him immediately, ignoring the small gasp from the Private behind you, “Do you know how many CAA forms I have left? Three. Three forms. Because you can’t deal with your own rookies. If I wanted to be dealing with them, I would’ve let Price make me a CO. You know what I said when he asked me to be one? Fuck no. I said it for a reason.”

“… Sae ye din’t want me tae report onyone else tae ye?” Soap asks, like the little shit he is, in a teasing tone. “Absolutely not.”

“Noted,” He nods, as if he understands, and gestures for the Private he’d sent to you to come back over to him, “I actually got yer message a minute ago from Williams. I think he almost shat himself.”

“I’m kinda happy about that, honestly,” You mutter, “Everything he told me was like… a direct violation of the code of conduct and was just so stupid.” “I ken!” Soap agrees, “I swear, naebody reads the code ‘o conduct ony mair.” “I asked him if he did, and he said yes, but I know he’s lying,” You roll your eyes before adding on, “And you know what? I’ve only had issues with British people ever since you and Gaz started reporting people to me. I think that they’re just the issue.”

“Jesus, I ken,” Soap mutters, “Fuckin’ Brits.” “Fuckin’ Brits.” You nod in agreement, before sighing and looking over at the rest of Soap’s platoon. You look back at him, “I also told Williams to actually refer to you as ‘Captain MacTavish’, so… there’s that.” “Guid, guid,” Soap nods, before clearing his throat and continuing,

“So did ye only come here tae yell at mae?”

“Yeah.” You admit, making Soap laugh lightly.

“And yer done now?”

“… I guess,” You mutter, making him chuckle and pat you on the shoulder.

“Guid,” He says, looking over at his group of soldiers he’s meant to be training, “I think yer scarin’ my soldiers more than mae.”

“How can you tell?” You ask sarcastically, following his gaze to the rookies that were trying their best not to look like they were eavesdropping when they clearly were. “They don’t even know we’re talking right now.” Soap huffs out a small laugh, “Right, o’ course.”

“I’m gonna head back to my office and take a quick nap,” You let Soap know, “So don’t send me anymore people. They’re stinking up my office, it’s ridiculous.” Soap raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Why don’t you just go to your sleeping quarters?” “Don’t tell me what to do.” Soap raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, then.” You huff out a tired breath and say, “So if anyone asks where I am, just let them know that.” You don’t wait for a response before you walk away from Soap and immediately hear whispers starting up again, but you ignore them as you walk out the door, sort of used to them at this point. You didn’t know why you were so scary to some of the lower-ranked soldiers (and even some of the higher-ranked ones), considering you never intentionally did anything to scare them. Sure, you were taller than most of them, and maybe just a bit quicker to lose your temper with people, but it was never that bad.

You vividly remember Gaz and Soap when they both found out a majority of the soldiers that were apart of the 141 were afraid of you or at least intimidated by you, the two had said that they wanted you around more often, just hanging out with them, so that they wouldn’t get bothered as much by people for unnecessary things.

Scary dog privileges, you remember they’d said, laughing as they did. It’s actually where you’d gotten your call sign, Cerberus.

It’s not that you hated it at all, in fact, you didn’t mind being a little scary if it meant people were less likely to bother you, it’s just that it makes it a hell of a lot harder to actually talk to people without them starting to stammer or shake.

It was one of the reasons you turned down being a commanding officer—you didn’t really like the thought of commanding a platoon of soldiers that cowered in your presence. Plus, it was getting really annoying, not being able to talk to another soldier that wasn’t Price, Soap, Ghost or Gaz without them looking like all they wanted to do was leave the conversation.

You finally make it back to your office and let out a sigh of relief as you open the door and walk in, closing it behind you, not even bothering to lock it as you immediately walk over to the chair behind your desk and sit down in it.

You reach below your desk and pull out a nice, fluffy blanket and a fluffy pillow to go with it that you always kept in your office—just for times like this, when you felt like going to sleep in your office, for whatever reason.

Were you supposed to be napping at all? No. Would your superiors let you anyway because you’ve somehow managed to get emotionally adopted by both Price and Soap? Absolutely.

You move some of the papers cluttering your desk out of the way and set down your pillow, as well as wrapping yourself in the blanket, and sigh happily as you lay your head down onto the pillow.

Just as you’re getting comfy, you hear a knock at the door. No. You don’t get up to answer it. You just sit there, head on your pillow, nice and comfy. In fact, you refuse to answer the door, because you’ve opened it for two other people already, and God knows who you’re gonna snap at once you open that door.

Another knock—you ignore that one too, knowing full well you told Soap to tell anyone who was looking for you that you were in your office but also knowing that you never said you’d open the door, you just said you’d be there.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream into it, knowing the scream wouldn’t be too muffled with how loud it was, but doing it anyway. You then take a deep breath and call out, unenthusiastic and tired, “Come in!”

You watch the door open and see Ghost step in, and you’re silent as you watch him close the door behind him and walk over to you, his century old shitty laptop in hand as he sits down in the chair in front of your desk and sets down said laptop.

You pay no mind to it, deciding you’d rather take a nap, and set your head back down on the pillow, pretending that you can’t feel Ghost’s eyes on you. “… Are you okay?” He asks, sounding a little concerned as he looks at you bury your head into your pillow, before his concern turns into confusion as he asks, “When did you get a pillow in here— you have a blanket, too?”

“Mmph.” You don’t respond with actual words, even if you did they’d be muffled beyond relief by your pillow. You can’t see him but Ghost raises an eyebrow at you and his lips twitch into a small, amused smile.

“What, you’ve just had those in here?” Ghost asks, knowing he’ll get nothing more than a muffled hum from you.

“Mmph.” “Alright, then,” He mutters, “Keep your secrets.” “Mmph.” You feel too tired to bother responding with anything else. “I feel like you shouldn’t sleep in your office, considering you have your own sleeping quarters you can sleep in.” “… Mmph.” “That’s fair,” Ghost nods. You hear him opening his laptop and you hear it crack when it opens, the noise making you huff out a small laugh into your pillow. God, that thing is so old, it’s ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?” Ghost asks as he types in his password. You don’t say anything in response, which doesn’t shock him in the slightest. You feel yourself start to get closer to sleep, but can’t get quite there, instead sort of just hanging right on the edge of sleep.

You quietly grumble in frustration and shift a bit in your seat, not knowing what the issue is. Ghost notices this and raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t do anything about it just yet, instead getting back to his work. Why’d he have to go into your office to do his work? Who knows.

You shift again in your seat and Ghost knows that he’s not gonna be able to focus if you keep shifting—why wouldn’t he just go to his own office?—around, so he sighs and picks up his laptop and drags the chair in front of your desk with him around to behind your desk where you are.

You lift your head up to try and see what he’s doing, confused, and see him putting his chair right next to yours and setting his laptop down onto the desk.

Before you can ask anything, he gently puts a hand on the side of your head and guides it to rest on his shoulder, and—oh. This is much better, somehow.

He seems to know that it’s that much better, too, because his eyes crinkle a bit, giving away the fact that he’s smiling. However, he stays silent, and keeps his hand on the side of your head for a moment before letting it fall down to the side of your forearm, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

He opens up his laptop once again and types in his password with one hand, the typing going by significantly slower than it would’ve if he used both hands, but he decides against keeping his hand off of you, seeing as it assists in helping you go to sleep.

Are you supposed to be asleep right now? Definitely not. But like mentioned before, Price wouldn’t mind. And you’d probably laugh if Soap minded, because even if he’s a Captain, he’ll always act like a little shit. Ghost knows this too, and with this information, he figures that he might as well help you sleep, since he knows exactly how to help you sleep.

One too many nights spent pacing in your room, which eventually woke Ghost up, which led to him helping you sleep, so that he could sleep too, You sleepily remember, He always said he was annoyed by the pacing, and that’s the only reason he helped you sleep. But now, seeing what’s happening now, makes you question that a bit. Was it his annoyance, or something else? Or am I thinking too much about this?

Cutting off your train of thought is another knock at the door, and it’s not loud enough to completely snap you out of your drowsy haze but it’s enough to make you a little more aware, and for you to readjust your head your head so that your face is practically buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck. His thumb stops rubbing against your forearm, and he glares at the door like it was the door’s fault it got knocked on.

The knocking persists and neither of you say anything, just waiting on whoever it is on the other side to give up and go away, but whoever it is must be feeling pretty determined because even louder knocks sound at the door, making you and Ghost sigh in unison.

You both continue to stay silent, hoping that whoever was on the other side just goes away, but they don’t. You don’t hear any footsteps retreating, and the knocks keep coming.

“Hello?” You both hear Price’s voice on the other side, “Cerberus? You in there?” “Say no,” You mutter into Ghost’s neck. He nods and clears his throat.

“Nope!” Ghost calls out in response to Price’s question.

“… Ghost?” Price’s surprised voice comes through, “What are you doing in there?” “Say this is your office,” You murmur, making Ghost huff out a small, amused laugh and nod again.

“This is my office,” Ghost responds, “Why wouldn’t I be here?” “What? No,” Price’s voice becomes confused, “This is Cerberus’ office.” “No it’s not,” Ghost denies, lying straight through his teeth. You laugh quietly against his neck. “Uh… but it is?” Price argues, “It has their name on the front.” “No it doesn’t,” Ghost blatantly denies, continuing his thumb’s slow circle movements on your skin, the soothing action making you hum contently. You don’t know how, but somehow your humming is loud enough for Price to hear. Does he have his ear against the door or something?

“I can hear Cerberus in there,” Price argues again, “Don’t lie to me.” “Sorry, lamb,” Ghost apologizes to you softly, tone significantly more soft than it typically is, “I think he’s caught onto us.” “… I guess it’s fine for him to come in, then,” You mumble against his neck. He responds with a nod.

“Come in!” Ghost calls out, and almost immediately you hear the door open and Price’s loud footsteps walking in. You can’t see him, but he opens his mouth to say something, when his eyes catch on your face buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck.

He looks questioningly at Ghost, the latter simply blinking over at Price, daring him to comment on it.

He doesn’t, and instead closes the door behind him and walks up to the desk.

“Cerberus?” He asks. You hum offhandedly, and he takes that as a sign to continue, “You okay?” “Mhm.” “You know you can sleep in your own sleeping quarters, right?” “Mhm.” “And you’re choosing not to?”

“Mhm.” Price blinks at you for a moment before muttering, “Alright, then,” under his breath and turning to Ghost, “And you’re here because?” “Felt like having some company,” Ghost answers simply, watching as Price glances at his thumb rubbing circles into your forearm, and continues to watch as his eyes slowly make their way up to the way your face is buried in the crook of his neck.

Price looks at Ghost, mouthing the words, ‘I’m telling everyone about this,’ to which Ghost mouths back, ‘Don’t you dare.’ Price grins at this and opens his mouth to say something else before there’s another knock at the door.

“Are you always this popular?” Ghost asks you, sounding both mildly annoyed and amused.

“Mhm.” You hum affirmatively.

Ghost sighs and he and Price call out in unison, “Come in!” The door opens and you temporarily readjust your head so that you’re just resting your head on Ghost’s shoulder with your face facing the door, and you watch as Gaz enters the room and his neutral face turns into one of both surprise and confusion.

“Were you lot having a party in here, or something?” He asks, closing the door behind him.

“Not originally,” Ghost deadpans, watching as Gaz walks over next to Price and leans against your desk, “What’re you here for?”

“Needed an extra corrective action form,” Gaz answers. Ghost looks down at you for permission to rummage through your desk drawers and you nod.

“Second drawer to the right,” You mumble, and Ghost opens that exact one up and pulls out a CAA form, handing it over to Gaz, who takes it with a ‘thank you’ and folds it in half, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He looks between you and Ghost questioningly, and opens his mouth to say something, before Ghost gives him the same look he did to Price, and Gaz immediately snaps his mouth shut.

“If you’re tired, Cerberus, you should go to your sleeping quarters,” Price comments, tone worried. You look over at him.

“What if someone needs me, though?” You ask, slowly blinking at him.

“Kid, I don’t think anyone would get any good help from you with the state you’re in right now,” Price says honestly, ignoring the small glare you send him. “Anyone who needs you can just refer to someone else.”

You hum neutrally and sigh before muttering, “Fine,” and tentatively take your head off of Ghost’s shoulder and unwrapping the blankets you’d wrapped around yourself earlier, bundling it into a little ball and putting it into the box under your desk, putting the pillow in there as well.

You crack your knuckles quickly and get up from your seat, quickly putting your hands on the edge of your desk to steady yourself, standing up on slightly shaky legs. “I can help you get over there,” Price offers, frowning a bit when you shake your head negatively. Ghost lets out a sigh and stands up, closing his laptop before quickly walking over to you and wrapping an arm loosely around your side, over your arm, pulling you closer to him and helping you stand up a bit straighter. Gaz observes all of this with a raised eyebrow but otherwise says nothing, instead watching with Price—who watched this with disbelief in his eyes—as Ghost walked with you to the door wordlessly, opening the door and walking out of it with you, not looking back as he closes the door behind him. “You think everyone’s gonna think Cerberus is all scary after they see them leaning on Ghost trying to get back to their sleeping quarters?” Gaz asks Price, staring at the closed door. “Somehow, yeah,” Price says after a moment, still caught up in his disbelief, “That is… the strangest thing I’ve seen all day.” “It’s only thirteen, Captain.” “I don’t think anything’s gonna top that.” “Top what?” Gaz asks, a little confused, “Seeing Ghost helping out Cerberus?” “Yeah.” Gaz huffs out a laugh and pats Price’s shoulder, “Jesus, man. I’m surprised that’s the first time you’ve seen that.” Gaz ignores Price’s confused look and walks towards the door, opening and closing it as he walks out, leaving Price dumbfounded in Cerberus’ office. “Huh?”

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redr0sewrites · 7 months

Note

I’m not sure if you take Helluva Boss requests, I know you take Hazbin hotel ones (I LOVE your Hazbin content, your writing is so ✨), if you do, could you make some Yandere Mammon headcanons? Tysm and I hope you have a wonderful day!

IVE NEVER WRITTEN FOR MAMMON NOR ANY YANDERE CHARACTERS BEFORE SO THIS WAS DEF A CHALLENGE, HOPE U ENJOY!!!

🥀Cw: yandere behavior, possessiveness, bribing, overall toxicity

mammon is the literal embodiment of greed and selfishness, and once he sets his sights on you, mammon wants you all to himself

hes the type to start off charming, sickeningly so, until his behavior slowly begins to become more corrupted and controlling

hes all about spoiling you, but not in a good way, he wants you to feel indebted to him

at first you marvel at all of the lavish gifts he gives you, but over time they become suffocating

he pretty much ignores your boundaries, mammon genuinely thinks he knows whats best for you

mammon does not take no for an answer, he pushes and pushes and pushes at your boundaries but turns around and makes you look crazy for snapping at such a silly thing! why would you ever get mad at him, especially when he spoils you rotten and treats you so well? (manipulation level 100)

absolutely the jealous type, at first he plays it off that he just "doesn't want to lose you" or "is worried about your wellbeing", but soon hes restricting you from your friends and family, making himself the sole focus of your attention

mammon highkey gets pissy when you aren't paying attention to him, and will try to coax you into paying more attention either through bribes or being ridiculously needy all of a sudden

he wants you to be his and only his at any given moment, and will even get mad or jealous of inanimate objects that hold your attention

he'd confiscate your phone or any social media you may have, he just can't have his precious jewel looking at other people, can he?

the more you begin to wither away and crumble under his control, the more overzealous he becomes

mammon can't understand why you aren't happy, how could you be so ungrateful? in his twisted mind, you're the one who doesn't deserve HIM

he'll make sexist, disgusting comments around you and will mock your discomfort. at first you think hes joking until you realize, no, hes quite serious

regardless of gender, mammon wants you to be his little house pet, always at his beck and call with dinner on the table and a pretty little outfit on

tears? anger? no, he can't have that. in fact, he'll try to pay you to shut up! mammon will give you gifts in the hope of getting you to quiet down, but its no use. no matter how fed up you get, he never listens. he might as well just lock you in your room if you aren't going to stop talking.... so, he does

if you ever try to leave him, be prepared for one hell of a break down

mammon will pull every abusive trick in the book- from gaslighting, to fake tears, to anger and outrage, he is desperate for you to stay, even if only to watch you crumble even more

if you ever manage to "leave", know that you probably won't be truly alone for at least a while. mammon has eyes everywhere, and for as long as he's concerned, youre his and his alone

hes def a perv too, but those r hcs for another time😇

HELPP IVE NEVER WRITTEN ANY YANDERE CONTENT BEFORE SO IM SORRY IF THIS IS ASS- IVE ALSO NEVER WRITTEN FOR MAMMON SO I HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE HES SUCH A SHITHEAD (affectionate <3) i might make a nsfw pt 2 if anyone wants me too- anyways hope yall enjoyed!!!

#helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x you #mammon x y/n #helluva boss mammon x reader #mammon x reader helluva boss #mammon helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n #yandere #tw yandere #yandere!mammon #yandere mammon #yandere helluva boss

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lokorum · 2 months

Note

what would you say is your favorite jonmichael fic..... im very curious and love to reread anything in that tag

oh but how can i pick only one when they all are so good??? (,,•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ,,)?

aaaaaa can i make the several honorable mentions of the fics that made me scream and roll on the floor?????? pretty please???

scheherazade was one of the first jonmichael fics that i found while going through all of the cher's works because, evidently, they have no fics that are not worth reading!! (i'm sorry if and forty feet down only confirming it!!!)

sleep inertia has one of the best dialogues i ever read!!! the way cruelzy writes michael's lines??? aaaaaaaaa its so delicious and believable and never for a second i thought i'm reading something out of canon?? its just that good.

carousel is the only one fic (from what i found) that i set in the last season and its adds a lot of layers to that big jonmichael onion that torments my eyes for a while now ldkfjgkdfjg also it's messy?? i mean the whole situation in the fic?? its so humanly complicated and it does not gives you the chance to experience any of the feelings clearly and i love it!! screechfox somehow captured all of the complicated stuff in one fic, blendered it together and for the whole time i just couldn't take my eyes away from it.

five times michael saves jon's life and one time he doesn't have to - is here to sooth our pain and heal our wounds. i reread it so many times!! the dynamic between jon and michael in it is one to live for!!! sometimes you think 5+1 kind of fics can't surprise you anymore and then the coolest author like paisleycowboys enters the room and proves you wrong.

to be like super honest, the 100 ways to say i love you series, when i first saw it, made me think im not gonna like it? i love my fanfics long and scary and bittersweet and with a bad-very-not-good-endings, so the title of this one made me go "hmmmmm HMMMMM hmmmmm hmmmm?" but ive started to read it anyway, theres not that many fics on the ao3 for jonmichael, we cant afford to be capricious and gosh GOSH i was so fucking wrong!!! its sweet AND sad AND scary AND awkward (in a best way!!!) AND it made me giggle so many times!!! NeedsCaffeineRightNow can make even the edgiest of us enjoy the soft kinds of fics (its not hard when they are written with so much care and love.)

POSSESSIVE!! MICHAEL!! COMBING!!! JON'S!! HAIR!!!!!! what else do we need from life?

transition, every time i reread it or think about it, makes me painfully aware of how many things should coincide for something to work. it's not one of those fics that completely encompass you; nor its the one that leaves you with new headcanons or in a good mood, no, i think it's the one that leaves you in dissoray, making you want to argue with author, to ask them what were they thinking about, pointing on your weak sides like this?, giving you something precious and then stealing it away? pushing your old bruises? that is to say, i have nothing but deep respect for indefensibleselfindulgence. to write fic that makes you want to engage in conversation? thats powerful

Our 'Angel' of Static and Bone is written so inexplicably good, that more than once i wondered, how NeverwinterThistle was able to do it? and then i realised they are one of my fave bg3 and dishonored authors phpphp but really, the care, the effort that went into this fic? they are literally visible! you can feel the amount of time and brain juice that went into writing it. and the neighbor character? they appeared like two times?? and still their addition left me speechless with how clever it is, how different!! absolutely amazing work.

adjective noun has jonmichael chapter (11) that destroyed me as a person i swear i laughed so hard i dropped my phone and just kept giggling face-into-the-pillow style!!!!!! its rare for the fics to bring you this childish kind of pure joy; the little in-between moment of forgetting about everything, good and bad, and just have a good time. this chapter is definitely one of those rare things and it also made me wish there would be more jonmichael fics from cuttoth. somehow they nailed everything that should be nailed about this ship and did it in a couple of pages, what a magical work!!

and well, now here's my fave fic, the one that took my head, shaked it like it's a soda can, and then left it open, fountaining at first and then dented and empty.

I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying is the work that made me grateful for the fact that i know how to read in english. its....mmmm, you know that feeling when fic makes you go through literally everything? and then, as a bonus, through all stages of grief as well?

first you get hooked up by the beautiful writing style and so you know the fic is gonna be good and you get comfortable and you turn yourself off from the rest of the world and you read.

you love pov, you love mood shifts, you love pacing, you love when scenes are short and you pause to think about what happened / you love when scenes are long and you get overloaded with the simple things that make you feel complicated emotions, you love it all.

then you start to wish it would never finish; you look at the scrolling bar from time to time, a little bit too aware of how much there's left to read, a little bit too anxious about it. and at the same time, the fic starts to make you feel safe, confident, that at least it's gonna be alright, its gonna be that one work that will replace the canon events for you. it was the

“Oh. Oh, Archivist, no. That’s not right at all,” you say to yourself as you watch him march into artefact storage, both hands clamped around an axe.

On a whim, you decide to save him."

line for me for sure uhhh it still hits as good as the first time too

and then you get to the ending and you just stare at the screen. that hollowing feeling slowly spreading inside you. *sigh* its the best sort of inspiration im sure, but its the worse one too. i have no idea how possessedradios and authors like them are able to write something that kills you, then reanimates you and then makes you sit in front of the tablet drawing hours non stop. ''I ask for nothing, but maybe I'm lying" is so beautiful its scares and fascinates me, just like the podcast did. hell, better then the podcast did. i know its silly but i even named my fisrt fanart of michael as the title of the fic 👉👈

ahhhh SO i rumbled again SORRY!!!!!!! every time someone asks something from me its either "i'll reply later" (replies 10 years after) or "tolstoy, hold my fucking beer". but i really hope that fic writers, not only those who are mentioned here but like in general? know how much they affect other people!! how their work creates safe spaces for others!! how they make readers smile or cry, even if those readers (im not pointing finger on myself idk what you talking about pgphpphph) are little gremlins that leaving comments once in a decade....................

have fun time reading!! <3

btw im working on a little fanart rn............. (expressing my deepest grattitude to ao3 johmichael writers 😳🔪)

#jonmichael #jondistortion #tma michael #tma jon #tma #fic rec

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rommahh · 1 month

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[not me writing for Eddie. Its been so long since ive written, please bare with me.]

TW/ consumption of bad things and an overd0se.

He’s sitting on the bed, eyes low, head pounding. He’s in for the worst knowing he’s done something wrong. There's an overwhelming sense of fear that he's going to disappoint you.

He doesn’t want to disappoint you ever.

The door creaks open, rusty hinges giving away any intruder with a loud sound. The gross studio apartment is small; one bed in the corner of the room, three counters next to a stove and fridge, a tiny table where you shared dinners, a bathroom, and a small thrifted couch.

You don’t even notice Eddie’s sluggish form on the bed as you untie your laces and settle your suitcase. The long weekend away visiting your parents gave you the rest that you didn't realize you needed. They worried for you everyday. They thought you moved too fast with Eddie- too enamored by the big dreams and nice smile.

“Eddie the record store we used to go to got the coolest things in this weekend you should go with me next time…” Your voice trails off when you finally meet his body.

The room is too warm. Eddie is sweating under your gaze. The drugs all sit on the bedside table. Baggies open, lines have smeared on the old wood. An open can of whatever’s cheapest accompanies the pills.

The space around the bed is filthy. You could tell more than a few guests were over while you were away.

Eddie’s disgruntled at best. His shirt has a small vomit stain, hair is greasy, and his skin is pale. He was still your Eddie though. He looked just like you remember him to always be- the same boy from highschool with the biggest dreams.

The sight of him makes your chest cave in.

Eddie’s sniffles brake you out of your reverie. “Oh! It’s ok Ed! We can fix this.”

You’re rushing to his side ready to aid him in any way but he flinches away from you. The movement startles you. Dropping to your knees in front of him you search for his eyes.

“It’ll all be ok Ed’s. We can fix this. We can call my friend from the hospital again.” You’re naive to the situation, maybe too scared to actually absorb the weight of it. Eddie had gone too far this time. He didn’t need his girlfriend doting on him with a wet wash cloth. He needed real help.

“I cant do this anymore,” Eddie whispers. His hands shook on his lap. His favorite rings long gone from how much he’s slimmed down.

You shake your head staring at him. “I hear you. We will go down to the hospital right now, I’ll call Wayne to meet us.”

You’re on your feet in seconds. Eddie can hear you finding a duffle to fill with overnight essentials. He lets you have a moment, one optimistic moment. The moment doesn't last long enough.

“No,” he croaks out. He can’t even look at you.

“No?” You’re looking at him. His collarbones are visible. Had it always been this bad? Were you this oblivious to what was happening in front of you?

“Y/N I can’t do this anymore with you.”

You feel as if you heard him incorrectly. The room getting smaller, your lungs getting tighter. Maybe you’re dreaming? Maybe you’re the one on drugs?

“Eddie I don’t think I’m understanding you.” You’re slow to walk back over to him. Kneeling once again with his knees in your face.

“I cant keep doing this to you. You-you don’t need this,” he spits out. A spark of anger ignites in you.

“You don’t get to decide that," you softly scoff.

“I do…this is about me and what I want. I want to get better and I want you to live a better life without me dragging you down.” Despite the nature of the situation, you’ve never heard a more cohesive and honest statement from Eddie like this before.

“So what? You’re breaking up with me?” Your nose goes hot, it tingles. The back of your throat goes tight.

“I have to. Please don’t be mad,” he’s begging you. His eyes finally meet yours, red ablaze and teary.

There’s a silence. All you can hear are his deep breaths and your sniffles. Somehow your world was crashing down around you and you're the one who made the sacrifices to be here.

“I’ve already called Wayne…he’s on the way to get me. Told me he was able to get me a spot at that rehabilitation center.”

You fake a smile while shuffling back from him. The carpet is rough against the palms of your hands as you push yourself off of the ground. Your apartment felt smaller than it was.

This was all too much. For the past five years Eddie engulfed your life. You moved to a new city for him, took care of bills while he tried to make it with his music. You watched him get high and then hit his lows. You did everything for him. If you could sacrifice everything in your life for him, you would.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. Please don’t be upset at me. I’m so sorry for this.” He’s blubbering now. You cant help but feel bad for him- maybe it was a force of habit. He seemed like a child who just scraped their knee on the pavement.

Eddie wants to reach for you but he doesn’t. He thinks a hard end will make the pain less hurtful.

“It’s ok Eddie. I don’t understand it right now but…I’d do anything for you,” you pause, “if this feels right for you, so be it.” It was always about Eddie for you. Eddie couldn't watch the way that you tried to smile with quivering lips. With shaking hands you re-tie your shoe laces and grab your suitcase. There's a slight hesitation before you grab the door.

"I'll always be here for you Eddie."

The door slamming shut behind you rings in Eddies ears. Vomit crawls up the back of the throat and not because of his shot immune system. You consumed Eddie's entire life more than drugs and he let you go.

You enabled Eddie without even knowing it and he couldn't let himself enable you any longer.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson angst #stranger things #eddie munson #Eddie munson fluff #stranger things au #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb

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kk43mi · 1 year

Text

needy┊kabukimono

PAIRING ┊ kabukimono x f!reader(dom-ish) GENRE ┊smut WC ┊ 1.2k+ WARNINGS ┊ obsessive behavior , somnophilia , clinginess , pussy eating , fingering , blowjob , good boy , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki, he became obsessed with the feeling and pleasure. always asking for more and more, at the wrong time and place, outside at the woods? he wanted it. other people were around? he wanted it. you were busy with work? he wanted it. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! been thinking about this for a long while, time to let it out. a little drabble btw!

the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki was when he asked about it, he heard about people talking about getting into the act of intimacy and that made him all flustered.

he got all shy and fidgeting with his fingers asking if he could do it too. "n-niwa was talking about doing stuff like...I dont know...like the thing...its embarrassing.."

of course you had to help your poor baby out, guiding him to the bedroom and taking his clothes off for him. he gets all shy saying "do i have to be naked...?" he asks so innocently.

"yes, now relax you wanna do this right?" you would reassure him and he would nod.

moaning and shuddering out of pleasure when your tongue starts kitten licking his tip, making him seeing stars already, hips bucking upwards as his back arch in an impossible angle.

the way his tip was inside your mouth had him whining and whimpering. "a-ah! so-so good..! mgh..mmgnh-!!"

and thats when he lost it as his whole cock was inside your mouth, touching the deep parts of your throat. which makes you gag a couple times, but he holds onto your head for leverage, gripping a handful of your hair, trying to withstand the pleasure.

hes so cute trying to hide his little whines and moans by biting his bottom lips, maybe a little blood trickling down mixed in with his drool.

he came on the spot,since this was his first time initiating in any kind of action, it wasn't surprising. but you swallowed it all, gulping down the white substance. hips shaking, and he let out the most pornographic moan ever.

"that-that felt so good y/n...one more..?" he asks so innocently and you let out a chuckle. "one wasn't enough?" he shakes his head as he pleas for another one.

and from there on, he always asked for you to pleasure him. even when you got back from work he would get up from his seat jumping up to you in thrill. giving you a tight hug and kissing your lips.

"y/n! youre back youre back! can we do it now? pleaseeee? ive been waiting all day..." he would pout.

"eh..but we did it yesterday already-and it was the first time...you got addicted..?" you would laugh it off but he wasnt having it. "noo pleaseeee, i havent released the whole day...need you.." he would say before rubbing himself on you.

"but im worn out...next when im free alright?" you try your best to convince, but all he did was pout and cry.

"dont you love me? cmon ill just do all the work this time!" he whines and you just sigh in defeat.

"alright fine...just only one time." he would nod before dragging you to the bedroom, already taking yours and his clothes off.

"n-ngh-! ah-fuck.." you moaned out as he ate your pussy out as if he hasn't eaten in years. slurping and licking your folds, sucking on your clit. "so good~ you taste so good..." he would mutter out.

he was always so hungry for your pussy, always chowing down on it as if there was no tomorrow. eating your pussy out as he rubbed his cock against the mattress to get some friction. even if you were begging him to slow down and trying to get away sometimes, he would just pull you back in by the thighs and eat you out.

if you were tired he would just do everything just so he could cum. bottoming out as he inserted his cock inside. makes him whine in pleasure, he couldnt help but move on the spot! thrusting himself at a fast pace while he kissed you with both elbows resting on both sides of your head.

you would whine, telling him to please slow down but he just couldnt! your pussy felt too good, squeezing so tight and good around his cock, you can basically feel him twitching, knowing he was close.

"gonna cum...! cum..cum cum cum!" he said as his thrusts gets sloppier and faster. "ah-wait not inside!" you screamed out but he kept going till he would reach his high. "kabuki!"

he would finally pull out, cumming on your stomach, and even on your face. then you squirting on his cock and stomach as both of the individuals could be heard trying to catch up their breath. but you can feel him sliding his cock on your folds.

"one more..p-please.." he would stuttered before pushing back in which had you arching. already sensitive from the orgasm you had. a long night soon awaited you.

you loved kabuki, but sometimes he would just annoy you by crying and whining when he didn't get what he wanted. even if you both were shopping for food at the markets, he would get needy, holding onto your arm and already grinding on your thigh.

"'m needy....please..now." you would sigh telling him nows not the time. but he then starts whining, crying which brought attention from other shoppers and it had you embarrassed until you dragged his arm, bringing him to a empty secluded place, behind some strangers house...sure there were other people too but less than the markets.

"god you irritate me so much..." you would say before taking his pants off, then flipping him to the wall, to where his ass stuck out. prodding two fingers around the rim of his ass. he would whimper at the feeling scratching onto the walls of the white concrete.

then finally inserting it inside of him, he would let out a slutty moan, almost loud enough for people to come. thrusting your fingers in and out of him, curling them at the ends, poking at his good spot.

"mmnggh-! nghh ahh~!" kabuki would let out with no shame, not even caring if people heard him, he just felt too good!

"quiet down, or else people will see." he nods and obeys obediently, biting his bottom lip to contain his moans from slipping out. "good boy." you praised him before stroking his cock. and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning and saying incoherent sentences, drooling at the pleasure he was getting.

thrusting your fingers in and stroking his cock was already enough for him to cum on the spot, making a mess on the wall, coated with white sticky cum. leaving him breathing heavily.

sometimes there would be days where youre too tired to even do anything, denying his requests of doing it so you can get some rest, sure it takes some convincing but then he would just pout and say "fine!" with a needy tone.

but little did you know, he would just wait until you passed out, just so he could take your clothes off and insert in his cock in your hole. thrusting in and out, skin slapping skin, just the feeling of your pussy pulsating around his cock. he always got off to the feeling of it and could cum immediately.

after that you would scold him for creating a mess when you were asleep, always feeling sticky and having to clean up.

when you guys had your intimate moments, and this time you told him he could cum inside, he couldn't hold in his excitement. saying "r-really?! okay! ill cum inside..." the thought of cumming inside you always excited him.

there when he first came inside he was so addicted to the feeling. after that he just couldnt stop cumming inside you, your pussy felt too good for him to stop, he would go on and on till his cum was basically translucent.

you would have to be the one initiating in aftercare, always so tired whenever he came multiple times...what did he expect. you would clean yourself and him up, then relaxing in a calming silence of cuddling and telling endearments to which kabuki would command.

requests open!

#genshin x y/n #genshin wanderer #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin imagines #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin #genshinimpact #genshinimpact smut #kk43mi

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blu-ish · 7 months

Text

Seasonal Love💝

Summary: "Love is in the air~" or that's what all the Valentine's Day decor says around Westopolis anyways...

Shadow finally decides to participate in a holiday for once. Little does he know most Mobian's don't know what a "Valentine's Day" is...

AKA Shadow gives a certain oblivious blue hog the surprise of his life.

"Do you know what Valentines Day is Shadow?"

Shadow ponders for a moment, reaching instinctively toward one of the history books spread around the metallic flooring. Flipping past the tables of contents before landing on the page.

"It's name derives from ancient Rome," he holds the small candle to the passage, illuminating the words for the other. "It's a pagan festival called Lupercalia, celebrating a martyr named St. Valentine." Small hands reach to take the book, a soft chuckle following.

"I didn't mean literally silly."

It was past their bed time, well, from what schedule they did have aboard the Ark anyways. The sun was hidden behind the earth, it's rays barley reaching around its curves like a halo.

The lights below sparkled like the blanket of stars surrounding the planet, reminding them of the life they could barely see, they weren't the only ones awake.

Maria smiled, the tubes in her nose shifting ever so slightly. "It has to be one of my favorite holidays."

Shadow adjusted her IV pole as she spoke, making sure it didn't bother her when she moved. "I thought the tree holiday was your favorite." He smirked as Maria rolled her eyes.

"That's Christmas Shadow."

"Close enough," she gestured to her bed as Shadow helped her up, she was always more tired during the night. She hated it.

But what she lacked in physical strength she made up for in her love of knowledge. She wanted to always learn more, more about Earth, about her people. Who they are, what they do, what they did. Besides the doctors and scientists aboard the Space Colony who doted after Maria.

She was fascinated with the giant blue planet, she loved it with every fiber of her being. He wanted nothing more then to experience it with her. It reminded him the hours of testing in the lab and sneering doctor's were worth it, for her.

"It's a day to celebrate those we care about, to remind them we love them. Grandfather thinks it's rather childish, but he thinks that of most things I suppose." She fiddles with her night gown, even with the small flame and his advanced night vision Shadow could see how her face darkened.

"Tell me about it." The hybrid rolled his eyes, trying his best to comfort his sister. If there was one thing to say about his creator, is that he lacked a sense of humor.

Maria let out a giggle taking the candle from Shadow, using her free hand to reach under her pillow.

"I wanted to give this to before you went into the labs today, but I didn't want them taking it away from you." She pulled out what seemed to be a handmade object, a simple paper folded together with Shadow's name written in fine print on the front. A heart sticker sealing its contents.

Shadow let out a soft breath in amazement, gently taking the lumpy paper from her. He examined the paper front to back honestly a bit puzzled. It was kind of heavy. His face flushes in embarrassment as he catches Maria trying not to laugh.

"It's a card, you have to open it, stinky."

"I am not stinky, I am Shadow." He replies monotone, but opens the card as instructed. Through his peripheral vision, he sees Maria's excited expression as he's greeted with a drawing.

It's him and Maria, standing on Earth, hands outstretched to hold the hands of the planets inhabitants encircling the globe, she even included Gerald and a few doctors and nurses he's grown to tolerate.

A bag of coffee beans falls onto his lap.

"It's not chocolate, but I know how much your love grandfathers coffee beans so I--" Maria was enveloped in a hug, Shadow was gentle to not put to much of his weight on her. But this meant so much to him. More than he would've thought it would. He loved his sister to the Earth and back.

"Thank you, Maria."

She blew the candle out.

Shadow stood Infront of one of the many decorated shop windows in the city. His ruby eyes staring right back at him. The heart shaped window stickers had caught his eye, and he ended up glancing around at what was behind the glass.

More heart themed chocolate boxes, bouquets, and what seemed to be a uncountable amount of stuffed toys. Those prices...

"Find something you want hun?" The clicking of heels approached the ebony hedgehog, he knew he didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Your late." He responded a little dryer then anticipated, but Rouge knew better. She insisted he get here early-- the cold might not bother him much, but he'd still rather be inside their drastically warmer apartment by now.

"Had to pick up a few extra things~" The agent chuckled, gesturing to the multiple bags she had in her hands. Shadow only huffed in response. "So glad you understand sweetie! Thank you for coming over to take them off my hands."

He hummed, placing the bags in the side-bag attached to his motorcycle. Somehow the bat was capable of flying hundreds of miles in the air to try to "borrow" a certain emerald from a certain echidna, but is unable to fly to Team Darks apartment with a few bags.

That's just Rouge he supposed.

Just as he was finished snapping the side-bag shut, Rouge let out a dramatic sigh. Glancing back, he saw her looking through the window with a sly smile on her lips.

"My, my, that much for some mere gifts?" She let out a laugh, "Please, what are they stuffed with, diamonds?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, he had to admit it was rather ridiculous, then again some humans tended to be that way.

"I didn't take you for someone to be so concerned with such materialistic things." He teased, but Rouge only scoffed. It wasn't like she just spent a whole extra half hour "shopping" or anything.

"At least people know when I steal from them, I've been living in the city for years, this holiday is nothing more than a capitalistic nightmare." She groaned, fixing her outfit with the reflection.

"Right." Shadow sat on his bike, starting up the engine with a low purr. He was ready to go.

"I'll see you at home hun, just a few more hours and we'll be free from all this Valentines stuff." She blew him a kiss and was on her way, but what she said stuck with him on his ride home.

There was more to it than just that.

He wanted to make a valentines.

He stopped himself halfway turning the keys to unlock the apartments door.

He wanted to.. what?

He pushed the thought away for a second, entering the room and placing Rouges bags on the couch. Slipping out of his jacket, folding it neatly over his arm.

He could, maybe...

But he hasn't made one since then.

Who would he even give it too?

Walking into his bedroom, he set his things down. Thoughts unwantedly swirling around in his mind. He supposed there were multiple people he could theoretically give a gift too. Glancing at his clock, he cursed under his breath. When did it get so late?

He didn't have much time.

But he wasn't actually planning on doing anything so why was he worried. He wasn't. No.

...

He groans as he sits up from his bed, scrambling around for some paper.

He was.

Sonic was asleep in one of the trees surrounding Green Hills. The branch bent a little, supporting his weight. He had found the perfect position where the setting sun hit his quills just right.

"...sonic?"

There was nothing better than getting a moderately warm sunbath during the seemingly cold winter, the hedgehog could barley keep his eyes open during this time of year anyways.. he cursed his hibernation tendencies.

"Sonic..."

Don't get him wrong, he LOVED to run during the winter, kept him active, it didn't snow a lot in Green Hills expect in some areas.. maybe he'd check it out after he wakes up--

"SONIC!"

He woke up with a yelp, quills sticking out sharply, piercing what was left of the leaves on the poor tree. Falling right onto his face on the somewhat grassy surface below.

Quickly standing up, he looked around in a groggy daze.

"Whatsgoingonwhosthreatingtheworldnowohhishads--" Words a little slurred, he readjusted himself by shaking his head, leaves falling with it. He thought he recognized that voice!

However, the other hedgehog only looked at him with mild confusion, hand momentarily outstretched to help the other but ever hesitant.

The hybrid decided to just clear his throat, Sonic noticed how his hand was awkwardly behind him, along with a basket in the other arm. Just Shadow doing Shadow things he guessed, but man, he was so happy to see him.

Sonic practically jumped in excitement. "Shadow! Aw man, how have you been! Didn't think I'd see you until spring dude." Last he heard from his rival, he was abroad on some "mission". He remembered Shadow telling him about it... kinda. He sorta spaced out after Shadow started talking about paperwork and-- yeah he doesn't remember.

"Recon ended early, so I was able to come back.." Sonic raised a brow when Shadow started to avoid eye contact. "Rouge needed help back at headquarters anyways--".

"What's in the basket?" Sonic mentally cringed, he didn't mean to say that out loud. Oh welp.

Shadow glanced down toward his arm, bringing the picnic like basket a little closer to himself. Sonic guessed he was still half sleep because he could've sworn Shadow looked almost, nervous?

"I got you, something." He replied, completely monotone. Sonic blinked.

"Wha...?" A big dumb smile creeped on the hero's face.

Shadow growled, but caught himself and sighed. "It's not anything special, you don't have to take it." He slowly extended his hidden arm, revealing a card-- made simply from folding a paper in half.

Sonic didn't know why, but he could feel his heart in his throat. Trying to stop his tail from wagging too much. He gingerly took the card from Shadow, and the basket. As soon as he opened the lid the smell woke him up completely.

"Is that a chilidog...?"

If Shadow didn't look worried before he sure did now. He crossed his arms, huffing a bit. "Yes, it is... it's all I could think of at the moment."

Sonic placed the basket down to grab it, it smelled heavenly. He took a bite and he swore he was about to cry.

"Holy Gaia... Shadow, WHERE did you get this?!" Sonic had to stop himself from eating it too fast, he wanted to savor every bite.

Shadow seemed to relax a little, relieved for the most part. "I made it myself." The hedgehog said matter of factly. He flinched when Sonic just stared at him in complete awe, his emerald eyes wide.

"I-It was pretty... simple I suppose, why are you looking at me like that?"

Sonic could not believe it... it was almost ironic in a way. His rival, made what was now probably his favorite chilidog ever.

Instead, he directed his attention to the card still in his hand. He ate the rest of his godly like chilidog and opened the card. This time however, Sonic squinted, seemingly reading the card over again and again. Shadow was back to being worried, ears pinned back.

Maybe this was a mistake after all...

"Shadow..." Sonic looked up from the card with a lost look, Shadow felt like he was going to test his own immortality and die right there. Did he go too far? Why did he feel like this? Why wasn't Sonic saying any--

"What's a Valentines Day?"

The duo sat on the roof of Shadows apartment, Sonic had practically begged Shadow for more chilidogs. He didn't know what to do with this kind of power over the hero, yet.

"So your saying there's a whole holiday dedicated to giving gifts to those you care about, and you give them cards that say Happy Valentines Day?" Sonic had started to piece it together, sorta, he took another bite of his chilidog with a thoughtful hum.

"Yes," Shadow took his seat next to the blue hedgehog, "I'm surprised you never heard of it, I assumed it was a well known custom."

"If your thinking of the human calendar at least." Sonic corrected, licking his fingers before Shadow stopped him and handed him a napkin.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," the hero started and let out a breath of a laugh, "Tails would probably be better at explaining this than me.. but basically, you know how Humans tend to call the Earth, well.. Earth?"

Shadow blinked, "I'm aware..."

"Well most Mobians, like us, call it Mobius. And like how Earth as a specific set of seasons and holidays.." Sonic explained, "So does Mobius, but its called the Mobian Calender."

The ebony hedgehog hummed, he didn't know that at all. Who knew Sonic of all people would teach him something...

"So Valentines Day isn't on the Mobian Calender?" Sonic nodded with a smile.

"Yeah! Where did you even learn about that holiday from?"

There was a pause. Sonic looked at Shadow curiously.

"From my sister... Maria, it was one of her favorites."

Shadow noticed how the others face softened, he didn't know why he said that. But, he did, and he felt like Sonic understood. So he didn't press.

After a few moments of strangely comfortable silence, Sonic broke it with a gentle nudge to Shadows shoulder.

"Ya know, I wouldn't mind learning a bit more about it... If you wanted to of course."

Shadow could feel the ghost of a smile creeping on his face. He looked away, not quite sure why he felt such a flush to his face. He hoped the night hid it well.

"I also wouldn't mind, at some point, learning some Mobian traditions as well."

Sonic leaned a bit into his side, causing the hybrid to fluff up a bit.

"You got yourself a deal faker."

#blu-ish writes #sonadow #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #fav #sonic fanfic #valentines day #LMAOOO UH I KNOW ITS NOT TECHICALLY VALENTINES DAY ANYMORE BUT TOO FUGGIN BAD #I finished this so late help #lemme know what you guys think! This was a lot of fun as always #thinking about making a part two with a Mobian holiday #HEKHDGKED EAT UP YALL

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