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heartofwritiing · 1 year

Text

What am I supposed to do, if theres no you?

paring: wilbur soot x fem!reader

authors note: I was listening to soon you’ll get better by taylor swift. I couldn’t get the imagery of this song out of my head and I needed to write some sort of vent. also inspired by a fic that @starsyoubreaklikesugardust wrote called whats it like on the other side of us that utterly destroyed me and I needed a happier version... This is super self-indulgent as hell but I hope you guys like it!

warnings: angst, mentions of an illness, hospitals, heavy topics, mentions of death, reader doesn’t have a specific illness, fluff, hurt comfort, me not knowing about medical terms or hospitals so excuse me lol, unedited!

The hospital bed feels warmer when Wilbur lies beside you, the only sound in the small room is the beeping of the machine monitoring your vitals.

On most days, everything is fine. However, when he's around, it's easy to forget the inevitable fate that awaits.

When he has to leave, he goes home to sleep in an empty bed and never does sleep. In those moments of solitude, he cries until he can't anymore. He tries to distract himself by painting the kitchen yellow, fixing up the garden, going to the studio to record, and hanging out with friends. But he feels guilty he’s not beside you.

The next time you see him he looks horrible. Like he got hit by a bus and you’re wondering if you should be the one in here or him. Wilbur Voice horse, circles under his eyes and red you know is from his tears. That’s when you pull him by the arm so he can curl up next to you so he can finally get some rest.

Stoking your fingers through his hair as he snores softly into your collarbone. You think about how Wilbur would ever function without you. How is he gonna take care of himself -when-if you are gone one day. That pit is building in your stomach along with the small lump in your throat. The burning of your eyes as you silently cry while you hold him close to your body.

Because that was what your life was full of, what ifs, whens, uncertainty, and dread. He didn’t deserve that. The arguments you used to get into when you first got sick. Begging him to leave you because you knew, in the long run, this wouldn’t work out. You could spend the rest of your life in and out of hospitals while he wasted away with you.

Wilbur swore repeatedly up and down that he would never leave you. No matter how much you tried to drive him away or how hard matters got.

Wilbur was constantly worried about your well-being, but he held onto hope that you would recover. This was especially true after the first time he brought you home.

You were happy to leave the uncomfortable hospital bed and small room reeking of antiseptic. You slow danced with him in the living room to Elton John playing from his phone speaker, listened to him write new songs, and slept in because you missed waking up in your shared bed. You felt like your old self again and he loved seeing you that way.

When things got worse again, the bright light in your eyes would soon fade, like water extinguishing a flame, as you had to leave your home and return to that sterile, white-washed room.

When you are back in that hospital bed, with the scratchy sheets and the fluorescent lights that hurt your eyes you’re back to being a shell of a human. The depression hits you harder and Wilbur does all he can to help. make you as comfterble as possible despite the weight of the situation.

You know he’s only trying to provide solstice. The small room fills with his soft voice as he reads your favorite stories. Telling you bad jokes he’s heard from Tommy that get you to at least crack a smile. He feels proud he was the one to grant you some form of happiness.

His hand holds your shaking, cold one as the IV pumps treatment into your veins. He leans over in his chair to be closer to you, lips against your knuckles. Your eyes meet in a longing stare that says 'I'm here, I'm not going anywhere.' You gently squeeze his hand.

“Wil?” You asked hoarsely.

“Yes, darling?” His voice is intimate, making you feel like there are people around even though it's just the two of you. The nickname always makes your tummy flutter with delight.

You want to capture the way he looks at you in a picture. He tentatively waits for your next words, his doe eyes filled with concern. You clear your throat and exhale softly.

“I was thinking... maybe we should find a house in the country,” you say. Wilbur remains silent. "Somewhere quiet, with big fields where we can see the sky, and watch the sunset on the porch."

You've mentioned how you'd love to live out in the country. A cottage large enough for you both to have separate areas. A streaming room for him, and a bedroom and den for you to store all your books and painting supplies.

A place where you can finally be free from confinement. Despite Wilbur's jokes about you being an old soul, you were in touch with life through knitting, painting, reading, and walks. That's what he wanted to give you again.

Your voice is quieter now, creating a moment just for you. The heaviness in your voice made your eyes well up. You could feel his thumb caressing your knuckles. Like a silent ‘take your time’. Your throat closes up as you keep talking. Your breath is shaking, primarily due to the cold temperature of the room and the medicine making you feel woozy. But you and Wilbur knew it was the emotional weight you tried to carry with your words.

Somewhere we can grow old together.

The sentence sits heavily in your mind. You'd like to say it to him. You wanted to share it with him so badly, but it felt painful to have cross your mind.

Wilbur already knows by the look in your eyes. He leans over you, lovingly presses a kiss to your forehead, and wipes away a single tear before it can roll down your cheek. Slowly he moves down, then presses another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Whatever you want, my love.” he squeezes your hand back.

Wilbur spent weeks searching through countless home-selling websites for your dream house, but none were to his liking or within your budget. A month later, while sitting uncomfortably in a hospital chair with his long legs curled up to his chest, he scrolled through his phone and stumbled upon a house that seemed too good to be true.

He scheduled numerous appointments to see the house, ensuring everything was in order before making a final decision. Moving his belongings with the help of friends and bandmates was hectic.

He spent weeks preparing for your homecoming, buying new furniture, and arranging your books to your liking, making everything perfect only then he would finally surprise you.

He's there to take you to his car the day you leave the hospital. He takes care of you in the passenger seat, buckling you in and ensuring you're ready to leave before setting off.

As Wilbur drives past your shared apartment, soft indie tunes play through the car's speakers, and you lean back against the headrest, watching the scenery pass by. You realize you passed the turn to your house and Wilbur's hand takes yours.

Wilbur turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and says, "We're not going home just yet." A faint smile is on his lips as if he's hiding something from you. He then drives in a different direction, and you can't help but feel excited about what he has planned.

"Where are we going?" you ask. As you speak, he can hear your worry.

"If I told you that, it would ruin the surprise," he says.

He knows you're antsy in your seat but it'll be worth it. After driving through winding roads and trees, he pulls up to a house with an arched doorway and slanted roof, almost like the one you dreamed of growing up.

Wilbur turns off the ignition, rushes to your side, opens the car door, and with a grin offers his hand to help you out. Wilbur leads you to the front door, unlocks it with a small key, and picks you up to carry you over the threshold.

"Welcome home darling," he says.

You are led through the house, to the hallway to the cozy living room. taking everything in slowly.

The soft pillows on the sofa, your paintings on the walls, your books on the shelf, and Wilbur's record player and vinyl set up. His acoustic guitar set against the wall caused your eyes to well up.

"Wilbur," you began, but tears rolled down your face as the emotions overwhelmed you. Why was he going through all this trouble for a silly dream?

Wilbur frowned as he tried to place you on the recliner, but you clung to him, so he sat down with you in his lap. Speaking softly into your ear with tender words to calm you.

You drew away from him, noticing the worry in his gaze as you locked eyes with Wilbur, he searched your expression frantically, attempting to figure out the cause of your distressed state.

"Are you okay?" he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "I know it's a lot to take all at once, but I wanted to surprise you. I'm sorry for being secretive."

You shake your head, in slight remorse for making him assume he upset you or pushed things too far.

"I'm just so happy." you beamed tearily.

Ease washed over him, and a sigh escapes his lips. Tears well in his eyes. He gently takes the back of your head and brings you to meet him for a kiss. His lips are soft and warm as they enveloped yours passionately. You reciprocated his kiss, bringing your hands to thread in his hair. Your noses brushed as you pulled away to catch your breath.

While holding each other, you remained in that position. Your breathing was slow and unsteady, and tears streamed down your face as you cried onto Wilbur's shoulder. Everything, for the first time in a long time, felt perfect.

Everything you had ever wanted was with Wilbur, and you were never going to want anything else.

Wilbur knew in his heart, soon you would get bette, because you just had to.

End.

tagging: @merakiwi @trashcanduck @addxms @ax-y10

#wilbur soot x fem!reader #wilbur soot x reader #neither c! nor cc! wilbur but my own character of him.#fanfiction #x reader #hospital tw #cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader #c!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur x reader #wilbur x reader #fluff #myct #wilbur soot

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

Note

Would you write a smut fic with ghost x dom reader x soap??(reader can be fem or gn and make both boys submissive maybe a moment where they fuck each other and the reader watches them and controls them).IDK WRITE IT HOWEVER YOU IMAGINE IT. I just dont have the skill to write so i am requesting it here.I hope its not weird.

I got you (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Ghost x Dom!Reader x Soap

Ghost and Soap find themselves crushing on the same woman on their team, a friendly bout between two comrades to see who you'll choose, only your answer's not one they'd expected to hear.

NSFW 18+, Shameless Smut, Porn With Plot, very little plot, MMF, P in V sex, Tons of Teasing, Steamy Makeouts, Groping, Grinding, Double-Penetration, Anal, Ceampie, Explicit Description, Graphic Language, Dom!Reader, Sub!Soap, Sub!Ghost, Sexual Tension, Some Ghostsoap moments as well, Playful Banter, Bickering, Flirting, Build-Up, Jealousy, Soap and Ghost are fighting over the same girl, but it's friendly competition, ends in a three way too so, will do more proofreading I promise!

WC: 7k ~

Author's Note: This took me way longer to type than it probably should have. I hope it makes for a good read. It's total nonsense, and probably not very realistic (though I do try). It's not exactly like the anon, I'm sorry! But hopefully, it's still good. Please, please, please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading my things!

Masterlist

The front door shut close, leaving the living room just a bit more silent now that its previous company had just departed. You look back towards your remaining two house guests, the smile already unable to stop from forming on your face. You'd been hoping for some alone time with both Ghost and Soap, and it seems fate would smile on you tonight, for now, you had both of them here.

You invited the whole team back over to your place for the weekend, after having just come back from an op with both Price and Gaz, which lasted damn near over a month. The whole thing had been rather uneventful, to say the least; some reconnaissance and leads which went mostly nowhere (well, nowhere for your team; Laswell definitely had a heyday from the sound of things).

With how mind-numbingly dull the whole assignment turned out to be, everyone couldn't be happier to finally sit back and relax with some drinks and good company once back home. All night you spent recapping the events of the mission, including all the monotony which had conspired.

At one point, the most entertainment you could find out there had been both you and Gaz slowly "misplacing" Price's things -- unimportant items that wouldn't do any harm if left unnoticed. You had bets on how long it'd take for him to notice things slowly going missing everyday.

Surprisingly, you nearly got away with it for a whole week, until one morning when he finally questioned the funny look you two had on your faces when he'd been scratching his head, completely perplexed by the absence of his things. Price was in a better mood retelling the story than he had been in the moment.

Eventually, everyone started to disperse as the night went on -- Price got tired and left first, maybe an hour after that Gaz called it a night as well. Once they'd left, you found yourself in your living room with the only two mates you'd been thinking about all day, Ghost and Soap.

Only unbeknownst to both you and each other, both men had deliberately been trying to stick around, having shared the sentiment in wanting some long-awaited alone time with you... except the night keeps getting later, and they both keep giving each other increasingly odd looks, impatiently waiting for the other to leave so they could finally make a move on you.

Both Ghost and Soap have wanted you for a long time now, longer than either men cared to admit. Funnily enough, it was Ghost who'd caught feelings first.

It came to him as randomly as a Tuesday morning. You were just doing what you normally do. However, it had been your mundane actions that somehow drew him in initially. How you go about life with a smile and good attitude, the way you look at him when you found something funny, and the slight lilt to your voice when you talk and get excited. He would feel a lucky man indeed to be yours.

However, Soap had been the one to be more upfront about his interest in you, after developing feelings of his own. The Sergeant's likings to you came suddenly and without warning, but once they'd developed, it couldn't be more obvious that he was down BAD.

More often than not was he finding little excuses to touch you, whether it be a passing hand on the small of your back when squeezing by, or a congratulatory hug after a successful mission. Soap's suave charisma made it easy to do. And with the touching, it was always followed by some sly little line that would have you blushing and pulling at the fabric of your sleeve all shy-like.

He's slowly ramped the flirting up the more time passes, and Ghost knows if he doesn't at least say something now, then it won't be long before Soap takes the chance himself. Tonight had felt a perfect enough opportunity to finally make some waves, though, Soap was fast proving to be a formidable opponent.

"Jeez!" You stretch your hands over your head and yawn dramatically, both men's eyes luring a bit longer than they should have on you as you did so. "I didn't realize how late it was getting."

"Aye, same," Soap lets out a little yawn as well, making himself more comfy on your couch. "You don't mind though, no?"

"Not at all," you say. If only they knew how many nights you've spent letting one of the two men be your idle bedtime fancies into slumber. Wondering what it was they could be doing at that moment in time, and if they'd been thinking of you too. "I missed you guys."

"Aw, we missed you too, lass," Soap smiles at you, before his gaze drops over to Ghost's, who'd begun to glare.

He often forgoes the mask in more domestic environments like this with the team, the others having already seen him before. Though it didn't stop the man from forgetting not to wear his emotions on his face like he still had one on. You thought his eyes were expressive, but little had you all known it was only the tip of the iceberg.

Keeping calm and remaining stoic in combat is one thing, however, anger and disapproval came easy to him, in which case he rivaled for having the worst poker face you'd ever seen.

The Sergeant had taken this fouled expression for disagreement in his statement, even as the look had been for an entirely different reason altogether. Soap merely goes on, "Or, I missed you at least. Ghost might feel differently."

Bastard. Putting him on the spot like this; Ghost almost chuckles, the cheeky fuck. He knew what Soap was trying to do: subtly make himself look better in your eyes so that you choose him over the other.

Had he known better, Ghost would think Soap might actually be aware of the lieutenant's crush on you, by the way he smirked in his direction after saying it. He admits he hadn't expected Soap to partake in such petty games either; then again, this was a first, the two of them liking the same woman like this.

If this is how he plays, then Ghost thought only one thing -- Game on.

"Oh I'm sure you missed me too," you stand up from the couch now, twirling over to face him. "Right, Si'?"

"And then some, love," Ghost says.

Your smile brightens, and the man is ashamed to say that it gives him the warm fuzzies in these late hours. The way the living room lighting curved over your neck had also been a sight worth eliciting something deep within him.

Ghost takes a quick glance over at Soap, catching his less-than-excited reaction to the lieutenant's successful line. He has to remember not to grow too expressive at that moment. Not with you here at least.

You excuse yourself to the restroom shortly after, having paid no mind to the growing tension between your comrades. You'd all but taken the soothing atmosphere with you, leaving instead an awkward aura Ghost and Soap willfully drowned themselves in.

It's Ghost who speaks first, his dark eyes having watched your backside make its way down the hall and round the corner. The more drink he had in him, the less subtle his staring grew. Soap has noticed as much tonight especially.

"It's gettin' rather late." Ghost straightens up in his seat before finishing off his Bourbon and placing it back down on the coffee table. "Damn near one in the a.m. Yet you look proper cozy, mate."

"Aye, I am," Soap says rather proudly, further making his point by getting comfortable on the couch and taking another swig of his tequila. "Been too long since I been 'ere. Was startin' to miss layin' on the ol' thing," he rubs the cushion as though he were petting an old dog.

Ghost leans back in his seat now. "You stay over this late often, then?"

Soap pauses, having to double take that question, until his blue eyes fell on Ghost's brown ones, and he saw clearly what he was asking him.

He asks the man right back, "Do you, mate?"

A cocky little grin forms on the Scotsman's face. Had Ghost not been so wrapped up in you, it might have brought him to a pause there. Soap always did have a nice smile.

Soap didn't have to be a genius to know Ghost liked you though; he goes all but slack-jaw anytime you walk by him. Not to mention it wasn't a common thing for Ghost to be the one sticking around late during a get-together. He's normally the first to call it a night, in fact.

Only tonight, that hadn't been the case for him at all. No, Ghost was as planted in his chair as Soap was; they both might as well have sprouted roots. And they both had enough drink to muster up the right amount of bravado needed to keep this sudden, little interrogation going.

"I asked you first, Johnny," Ghost says, his deep voice laced with something more playfully cunning.

"And I answered you," Soap teases back.

"With a question."

"It's still an answer, no?"

Now Soap was just being deliberately obtuse. Ever since he knew he could do it, Soap's enjoyed pushing the lieutenant's buttons and getting a rile out of him. It's only increased tenfold over the last year, not that Ghost has tried to stop him.

Ghost leans forward now, resting his arms on his knees and furrowing his brow. "A'right, out with it, then," he says. "What's your game 'ere?"

Soap's brow furrows rather facetiously. '"I'm sorry, sir?"

"Don’t play dumb Johnny." The playful tone Ghost once used before has now since cooled, growing darker. "You know wha' I'm askin'."

Soap merely smirks, resting his arm back against the couch. "The same game you're playing, yeah?"

"And what game is that, Johnny?"

Soap can't help but laugh now, growing more and more cocky with each loaded exchange. On a normal day, Ghost might manage to intimidate the Sergeant every so often with his sheer presence, let alone his words. However, when it comes to women, Soap couldn't feel more in his element, especially up against his superior.

"One I'll beat you in."

Now it's Ghost's turn to have a laugh. A subtle thing, trapped beneath the burliness of his chest, though its deep rumble is audible enough, having warmed the Scotsman's cheeks at the sound.

"I doubt that," Ghost says.

"You underestimate my charm L.T."

Soap puckers his lips and kisses the air between the two men mockingly. As much as Ghost tried to hide it, the sight had made the air catch in his throat for a second. It's that usual, competitive nature about the Sergeant that really gets Ghost's blood pumping during these mutual bouts of bickering.

"My last statement still stands," Ghost chuckles. "So what? You thought I'd leave and you two would just go at it then?"

"I wouldn't say it like that," Soap says. "...But I was hoping to have some alone time with her, yes."

"And you figured on waitin' for the rest of us to vacate before making a move..." Ghost shrugs with affirmation. "...Clever man."

"Yeah, well, what about you?" Soap asks. "Clearly we're both still here for the same reason. What's your "game", L.T.?"

"It's not your concern."

Soap groans, sinking back in his seat, though he hadn't been surprised by his response. "Suppose it isn't, then," he says. "It's hers."

"That's right," Ghost agrees. "We can't both have her."

"Can't we?"

Ghost brings his eyes forward to Soap's, having thought his comment been a mere joke. However, once their gazes matched, Ghost could see that his Sergeant was dead serious.

Personally, Soap's never been opposed to the idea of a threesome. He'd even be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about it from time to time, as boyish as it sounds. Adding Ghost into that equation hadn't tripped him up much in the slightest either; Lord knows the lieutenant would be next on Soap's list if you weren't at the top of it already.

Still, Ghost had a hard time even picturing a scenario where something like that could happen, let alone with all three of you. No doubt the man had been interested in you, and for a while, he'd even felt something for Soap as well, feelings that haven't necessarily gone away.

Something with all three of you would no doubt be perfect, however, it just seemed...

"Let's be real here, Johnny." Ghost leaves it at that.

"Suit yourself," Soap merely shrugs, before a light bulb moment suddenly lets off in his eyes. "How about we bring this to the source then? Hey Y/N!"

"Soap-"

"Oi, calm down, mate," he smiles at him. "No point in beatin' 'round the bush, aye?"

You reemerge from around the corner, having heard their voices vaguely through your door this entire time, but not being able to put full words together. Not without having your ear pressed to the wall. From the "uh-oh" look you had on your face, though, something told the two men you were already preparing for them to say something crazy.

"What's up?"

Soap gives Ghost a final look, waiting to see if the man will protest. However, when he sees that he doesn't speak, Soap grins, turning back to you.

"If you had to pick between Ghost and I, who're you choosin'?"

"Pick for what?" you ask, certainly needing clarification. "For battle?"

Soap bursts out laughing, just now feeling how awkward it was going to be explaining this to you. "No," he says. "Like if you had to pick one of us to... I don't know, go out on a date with, who would you pick?"

You keep smiling at Soap like he's joking, waiting to hear him laugh, but once you see he hasn't budged, you feel your heart begin to race.

Your eyes grow wide, now suddenly embarrassed to have the spotlight on you. "You're seriously asking?"

Soap nods. "I am."

You look over at Ghost now. Surely this was just another one of Soap's antics. "You too?"

Ghost shrugs. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious."

You were hoping he wouldn't say that. But, if they were asking, then may God be your witness as you answer them.

Placing a hand to your chin, you pout to yourself and look back and forth between your teammates, sizing both men up for every physical feature they had to offer.

Your mind immediately goes to the gutter, not being able to help it. You've found them both distractingly good-looking ever since you joined the team, and you've more than thought about this before. Just never in comparison. Or out loud.

Soap looks like he'd be fun to play with -- he's eager, energetic, and even better, open-minded. Not to mention he was cocky too; you always liked a man who could talk his shit and back it up. With those big arms of his, he could just box you in against the bed and pin you down good and firm, as he drills into you, cooing that sweet little accent of his in your ear like he would. It made your body tingle just thinking about it.

And then there was Ghost; if there was any voice you wouldn't mind having growled in your ear while being fucked senseless, it was his. Unlike Soap, you just knew you wouldn't get it rough like you would from Ghost. You've lost count of how many times you've caught yourself gawking at him during sparring sessions or while out in the field, watching that bulking mass of muscle of his he called a body, manhandle any and everything in his way. Having him do the same to you in a more intimate sense never failed to make the lower parts of yourself start to throb at the thought.

After giving both men a good, long look, you sigh, letting your arms fall back to your sides.

"I can't choose."

"Ah, don't be shy now, lass," Soap says. "If you're worried about hurtin' our feelings-"

"No it's not that," you cut in. "It's just not an easy choice, you know?"

Ghost raises an eyebrow now. "Oh?"

"Oh, don't act all surprised, Simon."

"You like us both then?" Soap asks cautiously.

"I'd say so." You begin to smirk. "Why? What's going on here?"

The two give each other a look, before Ghost goes to explain things to you.

"We're just trying to figure out which one of us has a shot."

"Figures you should be the deciding vote, seeing as you're the subject of interest, lass."

You imagine you look pretty stupid standing at the center of your living room all wide-eyed like you do, but frankly, this just feels too good to be true. It hadn't been one of them that was supposedly into you, but both of them. If you could do a backflip, you'd do twelve right now, no questions asked.

But before you get head over heels about this, "So you're saying you both want me then?"

"In more ways than one, darlin'," Soap teases.

You glance over at Ghost this time, having taken note of his sudden silence. "You too, Simon?"

He hadn't necessarily been prepared to confess his feelings to you, not like this, and much less in front of an opposing audience. Still, Ghost wouldn't have his own Sergeant show him up so easily. Plus, the way your eyes lured at him this whole time had a chill running down his spine, making it hard to concentrate. So he nods, "That's right."

A devilish smile slowly creeps over your lips.

"Well, can't I just have you both?"

"Aye, that's what I'm sayin'!"

"Problem solved then, right?" You laugh.

"If only," Soap says. "Ghost didn't seem up for it when I brought it up earlier-"

"You puttin' words in my mouth now, Johnny." Ghost cuts in.

"Oh, don't switch up now L.T.-"

"Boys," you cut in before they've started going back in forth again, a playful smile still painting your lips. You were eating this up, if you were being honest. "Relax," you say. "We can... get to the bottom of this, yeah?"

Both your eyes shift over to Ghost, who now sits awkwardly to himself on the couch, hands resting motionless on his large lap.

"Well Simon?" You ask him. "Are you down?"

"I'm not one for sharing, love," Ghost coos at you.

You slowly make your way over to the lieutenant, your eyes looming over him like a panther that's just found its next meal. Ghost feels himself hold his breath, watching as you've paused just in front of him, your back now facing Soap, though you can feel his eyes on your backside, taking in the nice view of you, and feeling himself grow harder in his pants.

This close, having smelt your scent on the way over, and felt the remnants of your breath in the air between you two, Ghost could feel his mind beginning to slip out from itself, heading into dangerous territories.

He could see in your eyes you knew exactly what you were doing too. Exactly what you wanted to do. The ball was in your park, and that made you in charge from this point on. The only thing they needed to do now was listen. And Ghost was sitting at the edge of his seat, waiting to hear you.

"Come on, Si'," you say so playfully. "Don't be greedy."

Ghost merely scoffs, an awkward smile forming. "How can I not?"

As though to then challenge the man, you step even closer, placing yourself right at the brink between his legs, having now rested your dainty hands over his muscular thighs like a ledge to lean on. The man can't even stop himself from letting his hands rest on your hips, your body naturally shifting just a little closer as he's done it. Every little thing you did had him ready to tear you out of your clothes and devour you whole.

No, the man knows he's too greedy for his own good. If he had even the smallest taste of you, he wouldn't want your attention on no one other than him. Howbeit, looking back over towards the Sergeant only made him want to throw that caution out the window.

Soap doesn't see the man staring daggers into him at first; his blue eyes have been glued to your ass since you turned your back to him. For the short second he does glance up at the lieutenant, he grins daringly. Taunting him to go home and tuck tail so he could have you all to himself instead. Make this easier for him tonight.

That's just what Soap wants, Ghost thought. Here the opportunity was now to have you, and he's fumbling it away all because he feels he can't share with Soap. Saying it again in his head like that gets him thinking though. If that's the only hurdle between him and you fucking, then it seemed easy enough to step over.

He won't back down that easily, even if he has to "share" you. If you want him like he wants you, then you'll have him, however way you like, just as he'll have you.

Ghost brings his hands down and lets his fingers graze your ass just enough for the Sergeant to see since he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Sickly enough, he hopes the sight is driving the Scot mad. God knows Ghost feels mad enough himself.

The minute you've felt his touch on you, you hum pleasantly, stepping even closer, so that he could take better hold of your bottom and have your small body caged between his large arms and legs like walls, his face only inches or so from yours.

Ghost could feel himself getting more comfortable with the idea of sharing. At least when he had you to himself like this. Especially with how your hands have begun to leisurely rest over his shoulders now, keeping the man just as close.

"I knew you'd come around," you praise, your words now having the man feeling giddy, ready to take them to further levels.

"Just takes the right convincing," he hums.

"I'm feelin' awfully lonely back 'ere," Soap chimes in, doing the best he could not to sink so low as to start touching himself before being given the OK by you first, wanting to hear the words leave your pretty, little mouth. Even as his cock was already throbbing in his pants for some relief.

You merely chuckle, cocking your head back to look at the Sergeant. "I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry," you coo. "You just be a good little lad and wait a moment, yeah?"

Though he wanted to protest, step over, and take you all for himself, Soap did as you told him to and stayed put, continuing to let his eyes have their way with the parts of your body he's all but only been able to steal quick glances at before. He could only hope his patience would be rewarded; and so long as you keep talking to him like you are now, he'll wait until the sun rises if he has to.

You turn your attention back to Ghost, not having forgotten about his hands which oh so nonchalantly groped the cheeks of your ass, kneading and massaging his fingers into the backs of your thighs. He wanted nothing more than to keep letting his hands roam until they've found the center of you, his mind already playing the short gasps and moans you'd make with his fingers knuckle deep in you.

He knew you'd only make him regret it if he so much as did anything without your say-so first.

You reveled at seeing both men so eager and receptive to listen, given how fast this all went down. Frankly, it's got your head spinning so fast that you feel like you've just been drugged. However, rather than let that adrenaline crumble you down, you instead use it as chaotic fuel to your lustful actions.

You climb onto Ghost's lap like a backward chair, straddling him down with your thighs and rocking yourself against him. As he's felt you grind generously so, a tattered breath escapes his lips. Broken and faint. His expression does all it can do to remain as still as possible, only to fail, as his gaze lowers, bouncing between your eyes and lips.

Having his hands grow a mind of their own, Ghost lets them slide to your back, encouraging you to keep moving against him, which you do gladly, the lust bubbling down your lower half like a chemical reaction.

"Fuck, love," Ghost huffs out. "You're really takin' me for a ride right now, aren't you?"

"Hope you're buckled in," you tease, following it with another smooth sway of your hips, giving the man a deep grind hard enough to leave him breathing heavy.

Just when he's about ready to kiss you, you look back over at Soap, smiling. Your index finger lifts innocently, beckoning the man. "Come along now, big boy," you say.

You don't have to tell him twice.

In a matter of seconds, the man is behind you, towering over you and keeping you now sandwiched between both him and Ghost.

When you see they're both waiting on your next word, you chuckle to yourself, the power now starting to go to your head. To think, you had two of the deadliest men on your team damn near drooling, ready to fuck you. How could you not let it get to your head?

"Well," you give both men a final lurid, look, and say, "I'm waiting."

Soap and Ghost exchange wary looks, suddenly unsure of what to do with themselves now that they had you like this. Evidently, despite you already sitting on the lieutenant's lap, it's Soap who swoops in for the kiss first.

You feel his large hand push past your hair and curve around your jaw, his fingers grazing your neck before he's cocked your head back to give you a proper eye-fucking, before he's leaned down and smacked his mouth against yours, Ghost be damned.

You wiggle on Ghost's lap, your legs tightening over his thighs in an attempt to keep balance as the Sergeant all but swallowed you whole, his hands cupping around your face, keeping you from escaping.

Using the Sergeant as further support, you stretch your arms over your head and let them rest against Soap's shoulders like a warm wall, your hands cupping his face and keeping him just as pulled in, your tongues trading the taste of each other and your body unconsciously rocking over Ghost's crotch, feeling two sets of arousal brim in you from top to bottom.

Having you bouncing over his cock like this was driving Ghost feral, getting off on just the sight of you. Of course, watching you make precise work with Soap's mouth soon had the lieutenant wanting more, growing impatient waiting for the Sergeant to let up.

Ghost instead lets his hands cup over your breast, groping and massaging them generously through your shirt. His mouth finds your neck bare for his teeth, sinking them in lightly each time before he's left a heated kiss in its place, letting his lips travel down your neck until he's felt his tongue graze your collarbone, complimenting the kissing Soap gave you above.

Your mouth may be occupied by the Sergeant's, but your body belonged to the lieutenant, so long as you continued to bounce on top of him like you were.

He lets one hand leave your breast, sliding his fingers and letting them dig against your clothed skin, until it's ducked between your legs, beginning to fumble with the buttons of your pants.

It's here you've parted your mouth from Soap's, the man looking down at your doe-eyed expression, hungering for more. You see the tinge of excitement that lights up in the sky-blue of his eyes as he watches your hands make their way toward his belt, swiftly undoing it and pulling it from his waist. If Ghost would have his way with you, then you would have yours with Soap.

Ghost has slipped his hand into your pants just as you've sprung Soap's cock free of its trouser, his large member sitting in your palm like a heavy, third limb. Soap can barely enjoy the sight of you holding him so close before you've let your tongue tease over the head of him, sucking lightly at the tip and tasting the remnants of his precum on your tongue.

Soap lets his head cock back pleasurably, groaning out to himself with a smile. "Ah," he groans, "You're too good to me, Bonnie."

Soap lets his hands rest at the side of your head rather brutishly, lightly nudging your mouth further down onto his cock, his abs tensing as he listened to the light gags you let out. Despite his persistence, you kept control of yourself, making sure that your movements had the man locked into your touch. It hadn't helped that your mind was caught in two places right now.

Ghost let his two fingers massage against your clit as though he were tasked with his life to see the job done properly. The tips of his fingers dip between your folds and tease your hole, before letting your slick lubricate him, soon to return rubbing against your bud in ways that made the entire lower half of your body feel sore with lust.

And it hadn't been enough to have his hand down your pants making a ruined mess of you. Ghost's other hand very much continued to pluck and roll at your nipple, having slipped beneath your shirt at some point during the interaction, holding against you as you rocked yourself against his hand, your moans humming over the Sergeant's cock and sending a wave of euphoria down him as well.

With one hand still free, you decide it's time that Ghost enjoys himself as well. He watches your single hand with hungry eyes, slightly shaken and erratic from both his fingering and Soap's cock a mere inch away from hitting the back of your throat, the man's groans of approval like music to your ears. Your hand travels down to his belt and undoes it with ease before you've slipped him free of his jeans as well, your fingers taking in the very shape of him.

Your thumb grazes his dripping tip, letting it slick down his shaft before you've begun to pump at him, feeling the man's body tense at your touch. It makes his fingers against your clit lose their rhythm, but only momentarily.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes out. "Just like tha', love."

The Sergeant glances down at the lieutenant, catching his dazed eyes locked on your bobbing mouth, taking in a full review of your work on the Sergeant's cock.

He could see it in the man's eyes, he was jealous, envious that he had your mouth all to himself while he had to settle for your hand. Granted your fingers danced about his shaft like an angel in her craft, though even he couldn't resist the allure that was watching your saliva dribble down his subordinate's cock, imagining the warmth of your throat struggling to take his entire length. You've felt his cock throb in your hands just at the thought, his hips faintly chasing your purposefully coy grip on him.

Soap chuckles, not being used to seeing his superior so awestruck and drunk with lust, hearing all sorts of noises and groans from the man he could never have imagined.

"Enjoyin' the show there, L.T.?" Soap teases, quickly following it by readjusting his hand on the side of your face, taking light hold of you to help further steady your already perfect rhythm.

In response, Ghost slips a third finger in you, listening to the carnal noises your cunt made at each thrust of his fingers, watching your mouth twitch over the Sergeant, momentarily struggling to suck him off through the moans that clawed out of you. That gets you to put more attention back on Ghost, your hand taking better hold of his cock and dancing over the large girth of him, keeping a steady motion until you've seen the wave-like rising and falling of his chest.

Through his light panting, Ghost taunts, "Got the best seat in the house, Johnny."

"Oh, is tha' righ', mate?" Soap licks his lips, and lets his eyes drop noticeably down to the lieutenant's cock, watching your single hand continue to pump at him, barely able to hold it all in one hand. It makes the Sergeant let out a teasing groan. "Shall we put it to the test then, L.T.?"

Ghost stares at the Sergeant, hungry for the man just as much as he starved for you.

"Be my guest, Johnny."

Hearing the two go back and forth had you giddy to see what both men had in store for each other. However, it had you just as eager to join in on the fray yourself.

After what felt like an eternity of having your drool dribble itself over the Sergeant's cock, you let your lips part from him, and with your other hand, remove yourself from Ghost as well, giggling at their kicked-puppy-dog expressions.

"I have a better idea," you say. You reach for the bottom of your shirt before pulling it over your head and discarding it at the edge of the couch. Once removed, both men fell on the same page rather quickly.

Soap's hands hastily fumbled at the clasp of your bra, before the fabric has fallen loose and your chest now lay bare for Ghost's full perusal. He hardly any time to truly enjoy it before you've momentarily climbed from him to rid yourself of the rest of your clothing, now standing a dripping, naked beauty of a woman.

Both men could do nothing more but stare, hands subconsciously stroking oneselves at the sight of you.

"Now," you say. "I can't have you both feeling so left out while the other fucks me."

"It would be cruel," Ghost quips gruffly, his eyes having been glued to your chest since he's seen your breast bounce so freely before him.

You step back over to Ghost, retaking your place over his lap and letting his cock rest thick beneath you, your sopping folds hugging warmly over him, sending a shiver down his entire body. You grind slowly, letting your fluids paint him, and wetting yourself good for what you were dying to have.

Ghost leans in, letting his hand rest on the small of your back and his lips caress the shell of your ear. "This is much crueler," he whispers. His hands immediately cupped over your breast again, recapturing the feeling of you and letting his hips lightly rock, chasing every part of you he could.

You lean forward until you've felt his nose brush the tip of yours and his breath tickle your lips.

"Don't get pouty now, Si'," you coo.

"Aye," Soap chimes in. "You're the one goin' first."

You look over at Soap playfully, leaning forward to pull him back in close by the hem of his shirt.

"I already told you two not to be greedy," you let your hand retake hold of him, your fingers curving over his girthy length gently. It shuts him up quickly, coming back in so closely to you both. "You two can share."

"What's your plan then, love?" Ghost asks, already having let his hand dive back down between your legs, gripping over his cock so the tip of his head could tease at your hole, wetness and slick coating you both.

You take your hand and you rub it against yourself, making sure every bit of your parts below had been lubed. You bring that same, dripping hand back up to Soap, before dressing his cock with your warm fluids, massaging the man, and feeling the grooves of his veins against your fingers throb.

"Now be a good little spotter and watch my back," you say playfully, before letting your eyes dip back down to Ghost. "I think the lieutenant's got the front covered."

Soap chuckles to himself, before you've felt his large hands rest gently against your bare shoulders, his callous fingers running down slowly to take a hefty handful of your ass, gripping the cheek tightly. He spreads you roughly, his eyes growing large at the sight of you, already knowing his cock would be more than a tight fit for you and devilishly longing for it.

As you've felt Soap rub his cock between your ass, letting your cheeks hug him, his hand digging possessively into your skin, you feel Ghost's hand lock over your neck, holding you there gently in front of him. That way your eyes could stay on him as his cock continued to gently nudge at your hole, only a single thrust away from finally entering you.

"You sure you can take us both?" Ghost asks.

"Wouldn't want to hurt you, lass," Soap adds in.

You position yourself better over Ghost, ready to retake your seat.

"I can handle myself, boys," you say. "Now, show me who wants it more."

You lower yourself on Ghost's cocks, feeling your folds begin to stretch and the grooves of your walls run by every vein and shape of him. It's too much at first, and he can see it in your wincing face, however, you keep lowering yourself, powering through that initial pain and instead letting that pressure boil in you like nothing you've ever felt before. It was overwhelming, and it had your lips quivering with silent moans already.

Just as you've felt your pussy start to take the full length of him, you've felt Soap tease at your second hole, his cock rubbing playfully at you, the tip dipping in ever so slightly, giving you a completely new feeling altogether. His cock stretches you just as much as Ghost's, both men easing your body to the shape of them all at once, and both waves of pleasure complimenting each other in ways that had your body shaking over them, unable to string words together.

"Fuckin' Christ, you're tight, Bonnie," Soap groans.

"Don't... stop...," you say desperately, wanting to squash any reluctance they may feel. The pleasure your body ached for was just now beginning to reach its peak. "...I can take it."

Once your body adjusted, it hadn't grown long before this slow easing had turned into an organized attack, both men pounding savagely into you.

You sat, nearly sandwiched between two men, your chest pressed against Ghost's as he hugged you to him, his cock bullying into you powerfully, the base of himself smacking against your pussy at each thrust.

In rhythm, Soap rests his chest against your back, planting kisses at your spine each time he's let himself thrust just a bit deeper inside your ass. Your hole gripped his cock so tightly it nearly pulled at him each time he came out, only to crash another orgasm-inducing thrust into you, both him and Ghost going back in forth like well-trained machines.

"That's right lovey, there you go," Ghost praises you, his breath fanning your ear. "You're takin' us so well."

In the midst of both men's vicious pounding, it felt as though every bit of you all had been entangled in some way. Hands clumsily felt, hugged, and tugged at one another, chests heaving and moans forming an opera within your living room.

When your tongue wasn't dipping itself into Ghost's mouth, then you're head was cocked back, having a few more kisses be stolen from you by Soap. At some points even, when you're face was buried in Ghost's chest attempting to muffle your moans, you've felt both men lean in to keep each other company in the meantime, rough lips pressed harshly to one another in a passionate kiss you only wished to mirror once they've parted.

Mouths part just enough to concentrate on breathing, each gasp of air being halted by yet another thrust from both ends of you.

Both men have felt an animal-like fury come out of them at each orgasm they've pulled, feeling your body tighten over their cocks and your limbs shake with pleasure, drool, and tears leaking from you, your mind completely scrambled after eleven straight minutes of this.

It isn't until Ghost has opened his eyes again, finding your face twisted with pleasure, and seeing the Sergeant's love-drunk expression -- eyes half-lidded with lust, biting his lip -- that Ghost feels himself finally at his end.

His fingers claw harshly into your skin, his pace growing punishable. Seeing the lieutenant move so carnally clicked in the sergeant's mind quickly what that had meant, already being at the brink of a climax himself.

You hug yourself over Ghost's shoulders, your body so exhausted you could pass out right now before they've even finished. Even so, you couldn't get enough of this sensation; this could go on for another hour if they wanted it to.

"...I'm ready for it," you moan. "Give it to me..."

Both men's cocks pulsate in you, your holes being filled to the brim with their cum, as it drips from you sloppily once they've pulled themselves out.

With heavy huffs, everyone in the room falls back onto the couch, taking a moment to themselves to regain their air. You still couldn't believe that just happened... that any of this had happened.

"So," Soap pants out, about ready to crash on your couch again. "Which one of us did'ye think wanted you more?"

You give Soap a sly look, baffled he would even ask you that right now. "I don't know."

Author's Note: The behemoth has been slain! I'm NEVER typing a request that is longer than 3k words ever again (this took me almost a month and a half to type due to my schedule). However, I am open to any requests for prompts with the CoD boys, though preferably none that are straight smut (I'm kind of burnt out on it atm :/).

I do hope you enjoyed this, however, and please feel free to leave a comment or any feedback! Thank you again!

꒰ · ◡ · ꒱

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greetingfromthedead · 2 months

Text

Pitter-Patter (Dad!Vash x F!Reader)

Plot: Vash feels like one more kid is a great idea and that's when the chaos begins, turning your whole life upside down once again.

Series: [prequel - Wedding Bells], [Part 1 - Little Feet], [Part 2 - Pitter-Patter]

Pairing: Vash x F!Reader

Rating: Everyone

Tags: no use of "y/n", post-Trimax (no major spoilers), domestic fluff, happy ending, pregnancy, children, babies, family fluff, cooking, parenting, happy marriage

Word count: 2.1k

Author's Note: Shows up at @jellys-compendium's house in a white van and another dad!Vash fic. It has been in the making for soooo long and it didn't quite work out like I wanted it to (caused me massive writer's block too cause I kept pushing it), but I hope all the readers get at least some joy from this.

"What about one more?" Vash nuzzles his face against your neck.

"You think we aren't outnumbered enough already?" you say with amusement as your fingers tangle into his messy black hair. He chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling your skin. "You really want to be in a 2 to 1 situation?"

"Our girls are so good! They are so big already, and our littlest sprout will start running around soon too!" His hands wrap tightly around you as he holds you close. "Wouldn't it be the perfect time? To have another baby?"

"Well," you hesitate, "you are great with all of them. You are the world's best dad and the greatest husband anyone could ever wish for. If anyone could handle it, then it is together with you."

"Really?" His eyes glimmer as he pulls back to look at you. The man who used to be alone, running from his shadow of death, now has a family and a home to call his own. And it makes him happier than he ever imagined himself to be.

"We better get started then," you smirk, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

You let out a deep sigh as your little boy wouldn't settle into his crib, no matter what tricks you pulled. The exhaustion is getting to you, and you simply give up, taking the sprout into your own bed to finally get some rest. Vash opens his eyes, still half asleep, to look at you putting down the child next to him before climbing into bed too. Vash's hand reaches out to gently stroke the baby's forehead, feeling the softness of their skin under his calloused touch.

"I don't know why he is so fussy today. Maybe it's the heat; it's getting to me too." You speak softly as you make sure everything looks safe. The baby's eyes droop, finally succumbing to sleep.

"You can leave the night shift to me. It's okay; you need your rest." Vash whispers.

"I'm fine. You need rest too; you're a lot more human now, and that means you need to sleep. You can't roughhouse with the kids all day and then be up half the night on top of that. We share the responsibility. We're a team. And don't forget: I have done this three times now already, so it's alright." You reach out your arm over the baby and stroke Vash's cheek softly with your fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, a small smile playing on his lips. He doesn't even look as his hand reaches for your swollen belly, gently stroking your skin.

You don't exactly know when you fell asleep, but Vash is woken up by the little creak of your bedroom door. He raises his head and sees your younger daughter at the door. She pouts and rubs her eye with her fist, a stuffed animal hanging from her free hand.

"What's wrong, sweety?" Vash whispers.

"I had a bad dream." She looks so defeated and sad. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Oh sweetheart. Come here, but be careful; your brother and mommy are asleep." Vash scoots a bit more towards the center of the bed, where the baby sleeps with his arms and legs sprawled out in every direction. Vash reaches out his arm to invite the little girl into his embrace. She climbs into bed and snuggles up against Vash, who keeps his arm around her protectively so she won't roll off the mattress. She smiles and drifts off to sleep, feeling safe and loved. Vash smiles at the girl in his embrace. He knows too well what it means to be haunted by nightmares, and if there is anything he can do to make her feel better, he will. His heart is so full of love for his family, his gorgeous wife, and his wonderful children. Tears prickle at his eyes as he thinks about the life he leads now and how grateful he is for it. With such thoughts, he falls back asleep, knowing that he is truly blessed.

You open your eyes in the morning. After a moment to get oriented again, you look over towards your baby and husband. The little boy lays in bed like a starfish, the pacifier barely hanging from the corner of his mouth. Behind him, Vash lays on his back in a similar manner, his left hand under his head, the right one supporting your daughter, who has climbed onto his chest and is sprawled out. They both sleep with their mouths open, and you are surprised they aren't snoring.

You stifle a little chuckle as you settle in better and look at them with half closed eyes, enjoying the moment and your family.

"Mom?" a quiet voice asks by your door, and you see your older daughter, "I was wondering where everyone had disappeared to."

"Morning, sweetheart!" You smile and reach out your hand as an invitation. She quietly walks over and sits on the bed, taking your hand. You shift a bit more to make room for her, and you pull her closer to put her head on your shoulder.

"Mom!" she protests quietly in a more whiny manner, but makes no attempt to move away.

You should have guessed that peace only lasts so long. Soon enough, the baby boy kicks Vash in the ribs, who jolts awake with a start and disturbs the girl on top of him too. This opens the floodgates to chatter that stirs the baby in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, he doesn't immediately start making a huge ruckus, seemingly distracted by the presence of his sisters.

You sit up on the bed and lean into some pillows to be more comfortable and take in the sweet moment of your family all together in your bed. The little girl plops down, off her dad, and settles next to her brother to press her ear on your baby bump.

"I can hear!" she exclaims without elaborating further, her eyes lighting up. The little boy decides to copy her, and you suddenly have two kids sticking to you.

"Dad always talked to mom's belly while she was expecting both of you," the older girl says, as she is old enough to remember your last pregnancies.

"And he did the same with you too." You ruffle your daughter's hair, and she too gently lays her head on your belly.

"HELLOOOO!!!" the younger girl suddenly shouts at your bump.

"Gently, gently." Vash says softly as you turn your face away to hide your giggle, even though your body betrays you by shaking.

Vash scoots closer too, his left arm reaching to pull you closer, sandwiching your youngest children between the two of you. The children squirm and giggle, their excitement palpable in the warm afternoon air.

"Let's have one more, he said. It will be fine, he said." You sigh heavily with your arms on your hips. "As I said before… I am blaming you for this."

"I'm sorry," Vash says quietly while looking like a soaked puppy.

"Well, I guess I am not blameless. I let my guard down," you say, looking up at the ceiling. "I should have known better and considered the risk, but here we are."

"It's going to work out," he says, sounding hopeful. "We're all home again, safe and sound."

"Your boundless optimism is truly inspiring," you say sarcastically. "This is only the beginning, or have you already forgotten?"

"I have not…" he says, sounding defeated.

"Then let's enjoy this while they sleep. Cause if one of them is up, everyone is up. One baby and a toddler would have been manageable, but four children in diapers? That's a different story altogether. We better go." You look down again at the newborn triplets in their cribs before taking Vash's hand and leading him out of the room.

The chaos in your house has only just started. Whatever you believed was "out of hand" before only got dwarfed by what awaited you now. Balancing the babies and the older children and making sure nobody feels left behind is no easy task, but Vash is just as determined to be a good dad as he has always been. You still make a great team, but now it's just chasing around children instead of bandits and reloading milk bottles instead of weapons. And it's a chaotic, messy, beautiful adventure that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Vash often volunteers to be the designated storyteller, spinning tales of your daring escapades to both the more and less captivated members of his audience. He held all three of the triplets on his chest without complaint when they wouldn't settle for a nap in any other way. He always cradled the baby heap with a smile on his lips, and he looked like the happiest man in the world despite the countless sleepless nights.

Vash loves being a dad. He adores all his children. He likes running around with the girls, playing ball, or engaging in pretend games. He loves teaching them all he knows and watching them grow and learn. He loves the toddler, who constantly clings to his legs and blabbers the day away. He loves the noise and the chaos. He takes in every moment and cherishes it, even if it includes screaming, crying, and dirty diapers.

You can trust him fully and have full confidence in him. Often, he has already announced, "I've got it!" and run off to tend to the kids before you can even truly react to the noises of dissatisfaction. Neither of you could handle the chaos without the other, and Vash never misses an opportunity to tell you just how much he loves and appreciates you. He often brings you little gifts when he goes to the market or if he finds something you would like out and about. He brings little treats and nick-knacks to show you how much he cares. You have a whole collection of shiny rocks and little figurines and books he has brought for you on a high shelf, away from little grabby hands that want to put everything into their mouths. The shelf is a reminder of the love he expresses in small gestures.

The older kids like to flock to you as soon as you're in the kitchen for a taste of what you're cooking. You often have the girls helping you out while the little boy sits in his highchair, watching with wide eyes and a smile, ready to wreak havoc as soon as something gets within grabbing distance. He's the perfect blend of adorable and mischievous. He reminds you a lot of Vash, more and more each day. You really shouldn't be surprised by that, but each time that realization makes you smile.

Baking cookies has become a weekly tradition. The girls are always eager to help as you try out different recipes and experiment with new flavors. They shift the flour and mix the ingredients with purpose and grand focus while you take on any jobs requiring chopping or the use of an oven. Vash is looking over the littlest babies to make sure your small space doesn't get dangerously crowded. You've just put the tray in the oven to bake as you turn to the older boy, who dozed off on the highchair because the preparations ate into his nap time. You pick the child up and leave the girls in charge of watching the cookies as you go to put your son to bed.

From your bedroom, you start hearing babbling and a smirk appears at the sound. You have no issues with putting the kid in his crib, and you turn to peek in from the crack in your own room's door. Vash kneels by the bed, his elbows resting on the mattress. The left hand supports his cheek, and the right one dances across the tummies of the triplet boys who lay in a row in front of him. He makes little noises at the babies, and they blabber back in turn. They seem to be having an engaging conversation as the expressions on the children switch from furrowed brows to glee and back. The babies kick their legs excitedly in response to your husband's voice saying something incoherent but clearly amusing to them. None of the four chatterboxes notice your presence by the door, and you retreat with a wide smile on your face. You go back to your girls, but before you reach the kitchen, you start to hear soft singing coming from the bedroom. Something about skipping cats and hopping dogs.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

And if you feel like reading more of my dad!Vash, but want to get your heart steamrolled at the same time then I have the perfect thing for you: Stormy Night and Ghost of You.

#trigun #trigun maximum #fanfiction #fanfic #vash the stampede #humanoid typhoon #x reader #plant boi #writing

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vintagepresley · 1 year

Text

My Happiness

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Word Count: 4,897

Warnings: None really. Mentions of postpartum depression, reader has a bit of a break down. But other than that mostly fluffy and cute!

Author's Notes: Hi besties. I've been loving dad!Elvis lately and just wanted to finish this fic and get it out. This is a little flashback to when Ada was only a few weeks old and seeing how the reader and Elvis are dealing with being new parents. I hope you enjoy it! Possible spelling errors. (P.S. I’m aware these photos are from 68’ and obviously don’t match his look in 1970, but I needed pics of him with baby, lol.)

March 8th, 1970

It had been two weeks since you’ve been in the hospital because you had refused to leave Ada alone, who had to stay so the doctors could make sure she was okay because of her being born so soon and the doctor was finally discharging her. Elvis couldn’t be happier but he was still so worried and concerned about you and your well being. You were doing a little better whenever you got be with Ada, but there were still days where you weren’t yourself mentally. He was doing his best to tend to you and make sure you were okay. He wanted to cancel the rest of his shows at the international to be with his family, but the colonel was not happy about that and made a deal with Elvis that if he performed at least five shows he’d be allowed to cancel the rest. Elvis, feeling like he had no choice, agreed. He certainly wasn’t going to leave you with the responsibility of caring for the baby on your own, so he rented a bus just like the old days and planned to drive to Vegas from California just in case you needed to stop to get anything for the baby and to make things easier for the two of you.

Your mother had gone out and bought some diapers, onesies and a few other things for the baby to last for your small trip to Vegas until you got home. As the guys took some of your things out to the bus, you were getting Ada changed and dressed in her little onesie. She was only two weeks old and so tiny and slept all the time that you tried to be careful not to wake her. Elvis stood beside you, watching with a smile as Ada wiggled a little. You felt Elvis slip his arms around you and you gave him a small smile. Elvis pressed a kiss to your cheek as his chin rested on your shoulder and he stared down at the little baby you both created.

“I can’t believe I had a hand in makin’ this beautiful baby.” he mumbled.

You smiled at his words.

“And she’s absolutely perfect.” you whispered. Elvis nodded in agreement giving your cheek another soft kiss.

“Can you get her little blanket for me, honey?” you asked, pointing to the chair that had some of her things.

“Course, baby.” He walked over to the chair and grabbed her blanket, handing it to you and you smiled, laying it on the bed and then carefully lifting her up in your arms and laying her on the blanket and then you swaddled her in it and took her into your arms, cradling her. She cooed softly as her little head moved side to side and her eyes stayed closed. Despite how awful you felt physically and mentally she was able to make all that go away in an instant as you stared down at her in awe. Elvis came over and leaned down to kiss her forehead as he stared down at her with the same look, he still couldn’t believe he was a daddy. You looked up at Elvis and smiled at him seeing how in love he was with his little girl. He looked at you with a smile and leaned over to press a kiss to your lips and you kissed him back softly.

“There’s probably gonna be some press outside, Little. The guys will make sure they won’t get too close.” he whispered.

You let out a soft sigh because you hated how you looked right now and the last thing you wanted was your picture taken. “Will you take her while I get changed and put some makeup on? I-I don’t look good enough for pictures.” you hummed.

“Are you kiddin’? You’re beautiful, honey!” he said softly.

“You’re sweet. But I don’t look or feel beautiful. I’ll be right back..” you sighed, carefully handing Ada to him. Elvis was still a little nervous whenever he held her because of how tiny she is but he cradled her protectively in his arms and he let out a soft sigh as he watched you grab your bag and head into the bathroom. He felt terrible because he wasn’t sure what to do to help you. But he knew the doctor said the postpartum depression would eventually pass. As he waited for you he sat down and gently rocked Ada in his arms and he looked down at her, smiling. He gently brushed his index finger along her cheek and she cooed softly.

“I can’t wait to get you home to Memphis. Daddy got your room all ready for you, yittle.” he whispered.

While in the bathroom you quickly showered and searched through the bag of clothes your mother brought for you. You rolled your eyes because she packed a bunch of dresses for you and you weren’t sure how they would look. You picked the cute floral sundress with spaghetti straps and sash belt around the middle. When you got the dress on you grabbed the little pink sweater that went with it and slipped it on and you paired it with some white flats. You then brushed your hair out and decided to leave it down and then you grabbed your makeup case and put on mascara, blush, and a light shade of pink lipstick. You took one look at yourself not particularly liking what you saw but you gathered your things and headed out of the bathroom to see Elvis rocking Ada in his arms and humming softly to her. That brought a smile to your face seeing him being so sweet with her. But Elvis had an even bigger smile on his face when he saw you. You were a vision to him and so beautiful that he didn’t even say a word.

You noticed him staring at you and you took it as if something was wrong and you looked down at yourself and then back at him. “What? Do I look funny?” you said with a hint of insecurity in your voice.

He furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Hell no... You look absolutely beautiful. You always do, Little.” he said softly.

Even though you felt the complete opposite of that you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing at his words. You were lucky to have a husband as sweet as him and who found you beautiful no matter what. “Thank you, honey.” you hummed as you gathered up your things and packed them away into your bag and then made sure Ada had everything in her diaper bag. “I can take her if you want to get the bags, honey.” you whispered. Elvis nodded and slowly got up from his seat and he brought Ada over to you and carefully placed her into your arms and you smiled down at her as she let out a tiny yawn. You giggled softly to yourself. “She yawns just like her daddy.” you beamed.

Elvis laughed and leaned down to kiss her forehead before he grabbed the bags. “Are my girls ready to go?” he smiled. You nodded at his words, taking a deep breath and knowing you had nothing to worry about because the guys were more than good at keeping people from getting too close when Elvis needed it. Elvis smiled and gestured for you to lead the way and you began to walk out the room where Jerry and Sonny had met you at the door and the rest of the guys had gone ahead where a few members of the press were waiting and ready to get a glimpse of baby Ada.

You glanced back to see Elvis right behind you. He gave you a smile. “It’s gonna be okay, Little.” he whispered to you. You nodded and peered down at the sleeping baby in your arms, hoping that they wouldn’t take too many pictures of her. As you all stepped outside the cameras started snapping and they were all chattering away and trying to get close. You allowed them to get a few pictures of her before covering her face with the blanket and the guys hurried the two of you into the big bus and Elvis hurried behind you with the bags in and the rest of the guys followed. You let out a sharp exhale and uncovered Ada’s face and now she was awake and beginning to whine.

“Aw, hi baby, did all that noise wake you? Hm? It’s okay.” you said in a soft baby voice, leaning down to kiss her cheek and you headed to the bedroom in the back with her.

Usually Elvis would drive the bus but he wanted to spend time with his girls and when he heard Ada’s soft whines he made Lamar drive and as the guys were settling in and Lamar was navigating them out of the hospital parking lot, Elvis took the diaper bag and headed back to the two of you. “Is she okay?” he asked worriedly.

“She’s fine. Say I’m fine, daddy.” you said in a baby voice, giggling softly as you soothed her and got her little whines to stop. Elvis beamed proudly, seeing how easy motherhood came to you. He sat beside you on the bed, staring down at Ada who’s eyes were now wide open.

“Hi, yittle.” he beamed, brushing his fingers lightly against her cheek. You smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I’m going to lay down with her for a bit. Will you join us?” you hummed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

Elvis nodded with a grin.

“I’d love to, baby.” he smiled. The both of you got up and you carefully placed Ada in the middle of the bed and she cooed softly. You and Elvis slipped your shoes off and climbed into bed beside the tiny baby and you turned to lay on your side, smiling at Elvis as he faced you. You carefully unwrapped the blanket around Ada that you swaddled her in and now her little feet were kicking back and forth and you kissed her cheek. Elvis chuckled softly as he placed his finger into her tiny hand and she gripped it tight, she cooed even more.

“She’s got one helluva grip on her.” he laughed.

“She’s not letting her daddy go. I don’t blame her.” You giggled softly, rubbing your hand over her little tummy. Ada continued to hold onto Elvis’ finger and she stared up at him with her big blue eyes and a little smile formed on her lips. “Aw, see? She just loves her daddy so much.” you hummed, laying your head beside her. Elvis had the biggest smile on his face and he pressed several gentle kisses to her cheek. Just watching the two of them together warmed your heart especially when Elvis began to speak to her in his baby talk. You couldn’t help but laugh because she had no idea what he was saying but she couldn’t keep her eyes off him as she babbled softly.

“Oh? Is that so? Mhm.. I’ll tell, mama.” Elvis hummed.

You raised an eyebrow and laughed seeing her and acting as if they were speaking to one another. “Tell me, what?” you smiled.

“She said she’s got the best mama.” he grinned.

“Oh hush.. I’ve only been a mother for two weeks.” you laughed.

“And look at how well you’ve taken to being one.” he smiled, resting his head beside Ada’s as the two of you cuddled up close to her.

“Well, she’s got the best daddy around.” you beamed. Elvis smiled, glancing back down at his daughter feeling like such a proud dad.

As the three of you laid there Ada began to fuss and whine until it turned into cries. You sat up a bit and rubbed your hand over her tummy, shushing her softly as you tried to comfort and soothe her. “Can you get her pacifier out of the diaper bag, honey?” you said softly as she continued to cry. Elvis nodded and got up and went over to the bag, grabbing her pacifier and he climbed back into bed and you took it and popped it into her mouth and her cries subsided a little but she sniffled and whined as she sucked on her pacifier. “Shhh, it’s okay..” you whispered as you continued to rub her tummy.

Elvis hated seeing her cry and he gently wiped her little tears that streamed down her face. “What’s the matter, baby?” he whispered, kissing her cheek. She flailed her arms around and the pacifier fell out of her mouth and she began to cry again. You let out a soft sigh and carefully scooped her up into your arms, rocking her back and forth as you picked up her pacifier and put it back in her mouth, but she fussed and fussed. “Maybe she’s hungry?” Elvis said softly.

“I fed her before we left the hospital.” you replied, feeling to see if she needed her diaper changed but her diaper was fine. She was fussing so much that her pacifier fell out of her mouth again and she cried even more. You continued to rock her back and forth and now you were beginning to get overwhelmed because you didn’t know what was wrong with her or how to help. The more overwhelmed you became it triggered you to get emotional. Elvis had witnessed this happen a few times in the hospital whenever Ada would get like this and he’d notice how overwhelmed you’d become. The doctor said it could be just the stress of being a new mother and Elvis wasn’t sure how to help you besides trying to calm Ada.

“I can take her if you want, Little? I can try to calm her down, it’s okay.” Elvis said softly, reaching out for Ada. You nodded your head slowly as you began to cry, you felt so stupid crying but you felt horrible because you didn’t know how to help her when she became like this. “Little.. Why are you cryin’, honey? It’s okay, she’s just a little cranky.” he whispered.

“I-I know.. I just.. I can’t help it..” you sniffled.

You carefully handed Ada to Elvis and he held her against his chest and he grabbed her pacifier and put it in her mouth, she latched onto it and she was sniffling softly as her cries began to settle, but she was still a little fussy. So Elvis began to walk around the room bouncing her in his arms as he started to sing My Happiness to her. She slowly was beginning to settle down in his embrace. Now you felt even worse because you could never get her to calm down the way that he could. You felt like a terrible mother whenever this would happen and now you couldn’t stop crying. Elvis looked over to see you in tears just like Ada was and he shook his head with a small smile having plans of taking care of his other baby. He glanced down at Ada and one of her little hands was clutching onto his shirt and her eyes were closing. Once she had fallen asleep he carefully laid her back down in the middle of the bed and she was sound asleep again, Elvis smiled down at her and then he plopped down in the chair that sat beside the bed and he patted his lap for you. “C’mere, Little.” he hummed.

You wiped your teary eyes and got up and walked over to him and you climbed into his lap, your legs dangling off his lap and your arms slipping around his shoulders. Your head resting against his chest as you sniffled softly, curling into him like you were a little girl. Elvis slipped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head as one of his hands ran along your back soothingly. “Talk to me, honey. What’s the matter?” he whispered. You glanced up at him and you started to pout. He raised an eyebrow and reached up to brush your hair out of your face and he pressed a kiss to your pouty lips, cupping your face in his hand. “Use your words, Little.” he said softly. You let out a soft sigh and continued to pout as your fingers twirled through his hair.

“I feel like a bad mom..” you mumbled.

“Baby, what are ya talkin’ about?? You’re the most amazing mother.” he smiled.

“Then how come I can never get her to calm down like you can? It’s as if she doesn’t like me..” you sighed, pouting more.

“You silly girl.. She loves her mama. You get a little overwhelmed, s’all. I know it may not be easy bein’ a mother at your age, but that’s why I’m here. You ain’t gotta do this alone, baby. ” he hummed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You nodded your head slowly at his words and you rested your head back against his chest. “I just want to be able to calm her like that.” you whispered.

“You will, honey. I wouldn’t suggest singing because you might scare her with your voice.” he laughed. You glanced up at him and narrowed your eyes as you hit his arm.

“Be nice to me.. I’m sad.” you pouted.

“Aw, I know, yittle. I got one baby to sleep, I’ll get the other down.” he chuckled, tightening his arms around you and you snuggled into him, glancing up and smiling as he even began to rock you in his arms. You let out a soft giggle and shut your eyes as he even began to sing to you. You let out a content sigh. Elvis always knew how to make you feel better through the littlest things. You were so lucky to have him especially now when your emotions were all over the place. You ended up falling asleep in his arms and you were in such a deep sleep you didn’t feel it when he carried you and placed you into the bed beside Ada who was still sleeping. Elvis climbed into bed with the two of you and he just watched his girls sleeping the entire way to Vegas.

When you all finally arrived in Vegas, you were finally waking up to the sound of the guys unloading the bus and the sound of Elvis’ voice talking to them. You rubbed your hand over your eyes and looked around for a moment before looking down at Ada, who was already awake. She was sucking on her pacifier and had been kicking her little legs so much she kicked the little blanket off that was around her. You smiled at her and wrapped her back up in her blanket and as you got up you soothed out your dress and fixed your hair before scooping her up into your arms and you peeked out the window to see you were at the International. You cradled her in one arm and grabbed the diaper bag with the other as you headed out of the room and Elvis smiled when he saw the both of you and he walked right over to kiss your cheek. “I’ve gotta feed her, Elvis.” you said softly.

Elvis nodded. “Okay, honey, Sonny and Red are gonna take us upstairs.” he smiled. You nodded and began to follow Elvis off the bus where the two men were waiting while the rest were unloading the bags to have them brought up to his suite as you both headed inside and upstairs to the room. You smiled down at Ada who’s eyes were looking all over at her new surroundings. When you finally got to the room, Sonny and Red left the three of you alone. You kissed Elvis’ cheek before you headed back to the bedroom for some privacy.

You laid Ada on the bed and grabbed a diaper and unbuttoned her onesie and changed her diaper. You leaned down and blew raspberries on her little tummy and her legs kicked and you giggled softly, buttoning her onesie back up and scooping her back up into your arms and sitting on the bed. You tugged the left strap of your dress down your shoulder and tucking the front of your dress down enough to reveal your left breast and brought her up to it and she latched onto your nipple right away. You smiled at her as she started to eat and one of her hands rested against your chest. You gently brushed the little blonde strands on the top of her head. “You’ve got your daddy’s hair. Well, what his hair used to look like.” you giggled softly.

“I heard that.” Elvis chimed in as he suddenly came into the room, laughing softly as he brought in the rest of your things. He smiled widely when he saw the two of you and the way Ada was holding onto you. “See? She loves her mama.” he beamed.

“That’s because I’m her source of food.” you laughed, looking back down to watch her eat and you pressed tiny kisses to her little hand, Elvis grinned and went to grab the rest of your things and you continued to lightly brush your fingers against her hair. “Mommy’s sorry she hasn’t been herself, I promise I will be soon. We’re very lucky to have your daddy.” You whispered to her, smiling as she continued to nurse from you. Elvis had been listening on the other side of the door and he smiled to himself before he came walking in with the rest of your things and then he sat down on the bed, smiling at his two girls.

“How you feelin’, baby?” He asked.

“I’m good. I’m sorry for being such a cry baby earlier.” You mumbled.

Elvis shook his head at your words and reached over to comb his fingers through your hair and he smiled warmly as he glanced down at the baby in your arms. “Nothin’ for you to be sorry about, Little. I understand and she understands. It’s okay.” he whispered. You smiled at his comforting words and nodded and when Ada was done eating you pulled the front of your dress back up and held her up against your shoulder with her little bib resting against your shoulder to catch her spit up, patting her back lightly to burp her.

“I’d like for the two of you to come to the show tonight. I know the fans will be excited to see her.” Elvis beamed.

“Um, I don’t know, Elvis. I think all of that and the crowd will be too loud for her. She’s only a few weeks old and I don’t know if that would be a good idea. But we could watch from backstage, so she could hear her daddy sing.” you said with a smile.

Elvis was a little disappointed but he understood your reasoning and knew you were right. “Okay, honey, as long as my girls are there. That’s all that matters to me.” He smiled and leaned over to kiss your cheek and kissed the top of Ada’s head. She finally let out a tiniest little burp and spitting up and you giggled softly.

“Good girl.” You beamed, cradling her back in your arms and wiping the spit up from her mouth with the bib.

Elvis chuckled softly.

“She’s so damn cute.” He grinned, tickling her little feet before he stood back up. “I’m gonna get ready for the show and I’ll have Jerry come up to get the two of you, okay?” He smiled.

You nodded, wrapping Ada in her blanket as you smiled up at Elvis. “Okay, honey.” You hummed, he leaned down to kiss you again and smiled at Ada before he headed out. “You’re gonna hear your daddy sing tonight, which I know is your favorite.” you whispered to her, she stared up at you with her big blue eyes, flailing her little hands around and cooing softly. Just staring down at that little face made you so happy and so proud to be her mother. You got up from the bed and grabbed her pacifier and diaper bag as the two of you waited for Jerry to come and get you. You kissed her little hands as they reached up toward you, letting out a soft content sigh. When there was a knock at the door you went over to answer it, smiling when you saw Jerry. “Here’s uncle Jerry to take us to see daddy.” you hummed, smiling at her.

Jerry smiled when he saw the two of you and he couldn’t keep his eyes off Ada and you raised an eyebrow at him, smiling. “Did you want to hold her?” you asked.

“Uh.. I’d like to.. But I’ve never held a baby before.” he said nervously.

“Neither have I, but you’ll do just fine. Come inside, I’m sure Elvis isn’t even ready yet.” you laughed. Jerry chuckled and walked inside the suite, shutting the door behind him and you led him over to the couch where you both sat down and just handed Ada to him and he was caught off guard but quickly cradled her in his arms. You laughed seeing how frantic he was with her in his arms. She wiggled around in his arms, kicking her legs and staring up at Jerry. You watched as he stared back at her in awe and you knew in an instant that he was completely in love with her. You leaned over and smiled down at her. “I think she likes you.” you hummed.

“How can you tell?” he asked, chuckling as he began to relax with the tiny baby in his arms.

“Whenever she kicks her little feet, that's when I know she’s happy.” you giggled softly.

Jerry smiled widely and stared back down at Ada who continued to stare up at him. “Man, she looks just like him.” Jerry laughed.

“Right!? Elvis doesn’t seem to think so. But she’s her daddy alright.” you smiled.

“We should probably head down before Elvis starts wondering where you are.” he said, carefully handing Ada back to you. You nodded and stood up holding Ada protectively in your arms as you headed toward the door.

“Could you grab her diaper bag for me?” you smiled. Jerry nodded and picked up the bag and let you lead the way as the two of you headed out towards the elevator where you rode it down to the main floor and headed for the backstage entrance of the showroom, Ada was getting a little fussy and you slipped her pacifier in her mouth and she soon settled as you gently rocked her. When you got to Elvis’ dressing room you smiled at him in his jumpsuit, looking handsome as ever. His face lit up at the sight of the two of you.

“There my girls!” he beamed happily, walking over to you and kissing your cheek and then kissing Ada’s forehead.

“Your daddy is so handsome.” you giggled.

Elvis chuckled, taking the diaper bag from Jerry and sitting it down.

“Guess who held her for the first time?” you grinned, looking toward Jerry.

“Jerry?! Ain’t she the cutest little thing?” Elvis beamed, proudly.

“She sure is, E. Looks just like you.” Jerry hummed.

You smiled and went over to sit down on the couch, rocking Ada gently as she laid awake in your arms, looking all around at her new surroundings curiously. As Elvis was ready to head out he and the guys were chatting quietly among themselve and you were in your own little world with Ada. Once it was time for him to head out on stage he came over to give you and Ada a quick kiss. You smiled watching him head out and you could hear the muffled screams of the roaring crowd the moment he stepped out onto that stage and then hearing him talking and joking around with the audience.

The only thing Elvis wanted to talk about when he got onto that stage was his little daughter, that right before the show even started he stopped everything just to do that. “I’m sure some of you may know by now, but my wife had our little girl a few weeks ago.” he laughed when the crowd began to go crazy. He smirked and shook his head, glancing back at his band behind him and laughing as he walked around the stage. “Now, uh.. She’s backstage, but her mama won’t let me bring her out. She says it’s too loud for her. So, if you folks don’t mind before we start the show tonight.. I-I’d like to sing her a song. It was the song I sang to her in the hospital and it’s her favorite. It’s an old song, called My Happiness.” he said softly, as the music began to play he started to sing. You could hear everything from backstage and it just brought a smile to your face because he was the proudest daddy. You glanced down at Ada who’s little feet started kicking the moment he started to sing, she knew her daddy’s voice and the special song he sang just for her. His little happiness.

Tagging: @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @ccab @kendralavon7 @kiankiwi @elvisblueshoes @peaceloveelvis @generoustreemystic @arianatheangel-girl @amydarcimarie

#elvis presley #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis fanfic #elvis fluff #dad!elvis #elvis #elvis fandom #68 comeback special

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deathblacksmoke · 10 months

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Dramamine—Part 2

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit’s Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: Light angst, pining, self-doubt/self-loathing

*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.2K

Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

Author's Note: Thank you as always Lady V for the beta and for everyone encouraging (and hand-holding) me through this series.

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

If anyone asks, he’s never heard of Noah Sebastian Davis. He didn’t go home and do his best, non-creepy internet stalk. He didn’t find a YouTube profile full of covers and make himself late for work, unable to stop watching. He isn’t spending any amount of time more than what’s normal thinking about the long-haired and pretty-faced boy that just waltzed into his bar and burrowed his way into his chest, causing a hollow ache in his gut. He hasn’t made himself sick to his stomach about it.

See you next week echoes in his brain. He can’t stand it.

He can’t have this feeling meaning what he’s worrying it means. He doesn’t know him and he doesn’t feel this way about anyone. Not anymore. He hasn’t for over 700 days and he never will again. It’s a promise he made to himself, so it’ll pass. It has to pass.

“Is this everyone for tonight?” Nick asks Jolly, holding up the open mic schedule to him. He tries his best to play like he’s not disappointed, but he can’t deny that his heart sank when he noticed a name missing.

Granted, he hasn’t tried very hard to move past this, but he’s had a week. He’s had 7 days to figure his mind out, get a little understanding on why he’s so stuck on this, why after all this time of nothing—of suffering—his brain has decided that romantic feelings are possible for him again, and why it’s so hyperfixated on this person. He doesn’t know what it is about him, and he doesn’t even know him. He knows he can get over it, because he has to. This isn’t an option. He’s had a week to prepare to see Noah again, worried about how he’ll act normal.

It seems that he won’t have to worry about any of that tonight, but his chest feels heavy and his dismay is clear when he slams the list back down on the bar. He doesn’t want to admit that he came in this morning a little happier than normal, a dull excitement buzzing through his limbs. He hoped no one noticed, but he caught Folio smirking at him and he found himself not caring. He doesn’t want to admit that the missing name deflated him.

“That’s everyone for now,” Jolly answers. Nick’s body feels heavy, immediately slumping. “We have some space left for last-minute slots if anyone shows up. We had a few last week.”

He refrains from asking who the last-minute additions were last week. He doesn’t want to be too obvious—he fears he already is. He wants to ask Jolly if he still has the list from last week, so he can look at it and see if Pretty Boy is just a poor planner.

Instead, he sinks back into his normal self. He refuses to get his hopes up. He refuses to deal with the humiliation if he allows himself to hope and Noah doesn’t show. It’s better this way.

To his irritation, the turnout this week is much better than last. Gavin isn’t turning people away at the door this time, but when Nick takes a look around at the packed bar, he wonders if maybe he should be. His bar stools have been full all night and it’s a little claustrophobic.

The tips are good enough to make it worth it, but he’s teetering the line between okay and overwhelmed. The bar hasn’t been this busy in years, not even on a weekend night. He doesn’t remember how to handle it all with grace, not actually sure that’s a talent he’s ever had.

The patrons seem to be endeared by his piss poor attitude, somehow. They’re handing him $20 bills, signing their receipts with little hearts, scrawling their phone numbers on the back. He tries to hide the way it makes him feel a little nauseated to flirt back. He has a feeling they don’t find themselves in places like this often, a grouchy tattooed bartender a novelty. It exhausts him, turns his stomach, even as he pockets the bills that will keep his lights on for the month.

He’s grateful, at least, for the distraction. The swaths of people packed into the building, the constant line of people at his bar, it’s enough to keep him from wondering if Noah is somewhere in that crowd. It’s keeping his thoughts of where is he? what is he doing? why do I care? at bay, for the moment.

He’s just gotten the hang of it when he catches something familiar out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey guys, I’m Noah—” and suddenly Nick’s vision narrows.

He can almost feel the hearts forming in his pupils, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed, but the other half is too focused to care. When he starts strumming a Rilo Kiley song, it’s so painfully earnest that he can’t help but feel endeared. He can’t ignore the way his cheeks warm.

Now, some days, they last longer than others But this day by the lake went too fast

“What’s that look all about?” Folio asks him, pulling Nick from his thoughts immediately. He does feel embarrassed now, rolling his eyes to help push it away.

It’s less embarrassing if you react with an angry annoyance, he figures.

“Shut the fuck up, Folio.”

He doesn’t see Noah after he finishes his slot. He figures he played and left and that’s okay. He doesn’t take it personally. He’s too busy tonight to worry about it, anyway. Even as the open mic has ended, the swath has only thinned out slightly. He may actually have to do a last call tonight.

He doesn’t let out a sigh of relief when he looks to the door and sees Noah walking through it, slouched over in a way that looks terribly uncomfortable, especially since he’s still towering over everyone here.

He pulls a Yuengling from the fridge as Noah approaches the bar, not caring to feel shame at the fact that he remembered. Noah smiles sweetly when Nick slides it to him without having to ask, pulling a $10 bill from his pocket and handing it over.

“What are the chances of someone giving me a ride home tonight?” Noah asks, and he’s so shy that Nick finds himself wanting to do anything he asks. He reminds himself that he can’t. He needs to move past it.

“Uber?” Nick says with a laugh, and Noah shakes his head, face souring in a way that could almost make Nick feel guilty. He won’t ask why. “Well, how did you get here?”

“I drove,” Noah says, making Nick raise his eyebrows. Noah isn’t drunk, and hasn’t been up to the bar tonight before now. “They booted my car,” Noah continues, visibly cringing. Nick feels a little soft for him. “I have a lot of unpaid parking tickets.”

He’s glad Folio fucked off to who knows where because he’s not around to hear this, tease Nick for going soft.

“All right, pretty boy, give me an hour and I’ll give you a lift.”

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

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sandwitchstories · 3 months

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Safe In The Arms Of Love

Welcome back to more Rengoku smut!

This fic is a little bit different from my normal. There's still filthy smut (because sex makes everything better and no one can tell me otherwise), but reader is not in the best head space. Luckily, we have Kyojuro there to make everything better!

To read on AO3, click here !

Summary: You love your older brother, you really do... But loving an addict is hell. Kyojuro comes home from work to find you struggling with your pain, frustration and grief over your brother's ongoing battle with addiction. He sees the toll it is taking on you, and he takes good care of you like the wonderful husband he is.

Getting lost in Kyojuro’s kiss, Kyojuro’s arms… just getting lost in Kyojuro… that’s what you needed. You needed nothing else to exist but the simplicity of the two of you.

2500+ words

CW: MDNI, mentions of reader's brother being an addict, reader is struggling with it mentally, Smut, AFAB terms for reader and reader's naughty bits, comfort sex, couch sex, riding, and more.

Author's note: I definitely did a lot of projecting into this story. The truth is, I wrote this story for me, but I dedicate it to anyone else out there who is struggling with the ups and downs of loving an addict. It sucks. You are not alone. We will both get through this, I promise. I don't know how, but I know we will.

Kyojuro calls your name as he comes in the door from work, seeing your truck in the driveway. He hurries to put down his bag and take off his shoes. Something is wrong. The house is too quiet.

There is no 90s rap playing in the kitchen as you cook or clean the kitchen. There is no familiar TV show playing in the background for the 8 millionth time while you attempt a new crochet pattern. There is no clickity clack of your keyboard signaling you are down a rabbit hole in your novel. There is nothing.

He calls your name again, this time concern in his voice.

“In here,” you call back, unable to put any of your normal cheer into your voice. You just don’t have it in you after the day you have had. Your heart is too sore. Your mind is too tired.

You see his sock covered feet walking towards you, but you make no attempt to move. You just sit against the wall and stare at the photo in your hand.

Kyojuro rests a hand on your desk before squatting down to speak to you, a worried frown on his handsome face as he takes in you sitting under your desk. “What on Earth are you doing down there?”

You hand him the picture that was in your hand. It was you, your siblings. In happier times. Better times that seem to have long since passed. The days of melting ice cream on a fancy waffle cone and smeared all over chubby, smiling faces. A different flavor for each one. Ice cream always tastes better when you are all together. At least it used to…

He glances at the picture and shakes his head before setting it on top of your desk. “Why are you torturing yourself like this, my love?”

“I wasn’t trying to,” you reply as you hold up a small silver piece in your hands. “I dropped the damn dongle under the desk and when I crawled under here to get it, the picture was laying on the floor.”

“And you decided to stay under the desk because?”

“I don’t really know,” you look up at Kyojuro answering honestly. “I don’t even really remember moving to sit like this to be honest with you.”

Kyojuro moves his hands to rub your calves. “Have you eaten since you got home?”

“No, not really hungry,” you answer honestly. Stress kills an appetite.

“Are you thirsty?”

You shake your head, “I’m just… so tired, Kyo.”

“I know you are,” he says gently, squeezing your calves gently. “Come on. Lets go cuddle and watch your ghost hunting show.”

“You hate that show.”

“But you love it. And I love you. And this isn’t about me,” he smiles.

“I love you too,” you sniffle, trying to hold back tears.

“Now, come out from under there or I will drag you out and carry you.”

You chuckle, “No need to drag me out but I won’t stop you from carrying me if you want to.”

He moves back and holds out a hand to help you stand, wrapping you in his arms against him as soon as you are upright. He has a hand in your hair and another around your waist, caging you to him as your arms wrap around his waist. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, resting your forehead under his chin. You smile as he automatically kisses the top of your head before resting his mouth and nose against the top of your head. “I’m okay now. You’re here.”

“Good,” he pulls back a little cupping your face to kiss you gently.

It has been a horrible day. In all aspects. In every single way possible. But none of it matters, none of it exists any more once Kyojuro’s lips touch yours.

He meant it as a gentle reassuring kiss, nothing more. Just a husband showing affection for his wife. He just didn’t realize he was going to stir more than that within you.

Getting lost in Kyojuro’s kiss, Kyojuro’s arms… just getting lost in Kyojuro… that’s what you needed. You needed nothing else to exist but the simplicity of the two of you.

You tilt your face up into his kiss, pressing into him more. Your hands move from his waist up to his shoulders. You close your eyes as his lips slot against yours.

Your man knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. You really don’t remember how you made it to the couch. And you’re definitely not sure when you got naked or where exactly our clothes are. But you also really do not care. This is exactly what you need and Kyojuro is more than happy to give it to you.

You're straddling him and his mouth is hot on your skin. His hands are everywhere, caressing your back, groping your ass, pressing your hips down harder as he grinds against you. His hard cock feels so good as you slide your wet cunt against it, shivering a little when the head of his cock kisses your clit.

You lean back a little to give him better access to mouth at your breasts before seizing a nipple in his mouth. He has one hand bracing your back and the other slides between your legs to slide two fingers into your wet hole.

You whimper, threading your fingers in his flaming hair and pressing your breast more into him, rocking your pussy on his fingers. You pull his head off your breast and capture his lips in a kiss, lifting up more on your knees.

Kyojuro takes the hint, moving his hand to instead grip his cock and slide the head back and forth on your slit before positioning it at your opening. You cup his head, staring into his eyes as you sink down onto his cock, both of you moaning as he fills your wet heat, stretching you in that delicious way you love.

“I love you,” you say, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too,” he says, tilting his chin up and capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands pressing you closer against the solid warmth of his chest, as if you could get any closer than the two of you are already mashed together.

You start to move, a slow rocking of your hips, back and forth, dragging his length within you as you grind your clit against him. “So good, you feel so good.”

“So do you, my love. You make me feel so good,” he groans as his lips move to your neck. He lets you set the pace. He murmurs sweet nothings against your skin as he peppers you with slow, soft kisses.

Your hands slide down his neck to his broad shoulders. You can feel that familiar tingle and throb starting radiating out from your clit. You start to move faster, raising your hips and dropping down harder as you go.

You’re close, riding him hard, chasing that high you so badly need right now. You whimper, almost in desperation to reach it.

Kyojuro grips onto your hips firmly as he leans back slightly to be able to plant his feet firmly on the floor and begins thrusting up into your dripping pussy. The feel of his cock fucking up into you mixed with the sound of your bodies slapping together is absolute bliss. He feels so good, thrusting that thick cock of his up into your pussy over and over again.

And then he hits that perfect spot inside you. The one that makes your head fall back, your jaw sag open. God, that broken cry that comes from your throat every single time he finds it . Yeah that’s the spot. You croak out a single, “There!”

He grins at you, skin sweaty and strands of his hair stuck across his forehead, “Oh I know, love. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He is the sexiest thing you have ever seen in your entire life. And he is yours. He hits that spot in a particularly hard thrust as your clit collides with him, and you fall apart on his cock, crying out his name holding him close as you cum, shaking with the force of your orgasm.

He’s close. You can tell. His stomach muscles are taught. His sexy, thick thighs are tensed under you, and his fingertips are digging into the plush of our ass.

“Fuck, Kyo, so good,” you tell him, clenching yourself even tighter on his cock, loving the feel of being so full. “I want you to cum for me baby.”

“Oh fuck,” he groans, sounding almost in pain. He can feel his orgasm already building, but this position isn’t going to cut it. He is on a mission to fuck you into a universe where nothing exists but the two of you.

He grabs onto you and moves to lay you down on the couch so he is kneeling between your legs. He loses not one second. He grabs onto your hips, pulling you closer and he begins fucking into you hard and fast.

“I like this position. I like to watch you. So, so beautiful,” he grins down at you. He loves the position for many reasons. The way your tits bounce with his thrusts. The clear view he has of your face. And the perfect view he can get of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over again as a ring of your cream starts to circle the base of his cock.

He scoots even closer so your ass is braced on his thighs and he is bent over you. He braces on one hand as he folds you in half. His other arm wraps around your thigh so he can start toying your clit with his thumb.

You cry out as you orgasm hits, throwing your head back in pleasure. You can feel your juices dripping. He just fucks you so damn good. Every. Single. Time.

He straightens up and his fingers dig into your hips, fucking into you in sloppy, hard, desperate strokes, the feeling of you throbbing and pulsing on his cock has him so close. You are so damn perfect to him. “That’s it, my sunflower, that’s it. Take me with you.”

You love watching Kyojuro cum. His eyes flutter closed, his mouth opens just the slighted bit but the sounds he lets out every time go straight to you cunt as he fills you with his seed. His balls are tight and heavy as they slap against your ass until he slows to a grind and he empties them in your spent pussy.

You both are breathing heavy and sweating, coming back down to earth. He leans over you, brushing hair back from your face and kissing you gently.

“Are you better now?” he asks softly. “If not, we can go again.”

You let out a soft chuckle, smiling up at him. “I am better now, thank you. And I’ll take a rain check on the second round.”

“Good for redemption at any time,” he assures you, kissing you again before he stands up. “Stay put.”

You give him a thumbs up in understanding. Your legs are way too jelly like to even think of standing. You did lift your head though to watch him walk away. You couldn’t help it. Kyojuro was fine as fuck.

His clothes hid one of the best asses ever to grace a man’s body. Just perfect. Biteable. That thought made you smile and recall the time he had been standing there doing dishes and you bent over and bit his ass cheek. He had yelped and sprayed you with the spray nozzle, turning the most adorable shade of red. You had laughed so hard you did not even care that your clothes and hair were wet.

“What has you smiling so beautifully?” Kyojuro asks as he rejoins you, a cloth in his hand to clean up the mess. Always the gentleman about that. He has always insisted on it saying, it was the least he could do for the pleasure you give to him.

“I was thinking about that time I bit your butt.” A laugh escapes your lips as he blushed at the memory. Like the man hadn’t just been buried balls deep inside of you minutes ago.

“I am grateful you have restrained yourself since.”

You laugh before asking, “So, do we have to burn the couch?”

“No, luckily,” he chuckled, cleaning you up and going to toss the towel in the hamper.

You hold out your arms, as you turn on your side, making grabby hands at him. He smiles and lays down with you, pulling the throw blanket off the top of the couch to cover you both so you do not get chilled by the coolness of the ceiling fan.

“Truthfully, are you feeling better?” he asks a short time later.

You nod and answer softly. “Better than I was for sure but I’m still a long way from okay.”

“It is understandable, my love.” He kisses your forehead, holding you tightly in the safety of his arms.

“It feels… wrong… to be grieving someone that is still alive,” you say softly, holding him closer and tucking your head into his shoulder, grateful when you feel his arms tighten around you even more.

“Grief and death are not mutually exclusive,” Kyojuro says, brushing a kiss across your forehead.

“I keep saying I miss my brother but the truth is… I miss who he used to be, not who he is anymore. The drugs have changed him into a complete stranger,” the tears start to well up in your eyes. “I know the counselor told me to remember the 3 C’s. I did not cause it. I cannot control it. I cannot cure it. But Gods, I wish I could. I want so badly to save him, to grab his hand and pull him from this… this… maelstrom… but I can’t… because I’m going to drown with him if I keep trying to save him. Kyo, he is not even trying to save himself.”

He rubs your back and presses soft kisses to the top of your head. “If I could fix this for you, I would.”

“I know you would, baby,” you lean your head back to kiss him gently, moving a hand to cup his face. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being here for me,” you say softly. “I know it’s been… a lot lately. With court dates and rehabs and… just everything. I’m sorry that my family has complicated our lives so much lately.”

“As overwhelming as it has been for me I can hardly imagine how it feels for you,” he says, his hand rubbing up and down the curve of your spine reassuringly. “I do not know what the future holds. I hope he gets better. I truly hope he does. He is a wonderful man. But… I am proud of you for stepping back. I know your heart is breaking. I know you are burdened with guilt because you feel you are abandoning him… but that is not the case, my love. You cannot help someone that does not want to be helped. I am proud of you for realizing this and for putting firm boundaries in place.”

You sniffle and press your forehead to his lips, smiling softly when his lips instantly kiss your temple. “Thank you.”

“We will get through this. Together. I promise,” he turns your face up to kiss your lips gently several times.

“Together,” you nodded.

Kyojuro reaches behind his head to grab the TV remote and turn on your favorite show. It plays in the background like white noise. You channel all of your focus into the moment. Into the feeling of his warm skin against yours, his chest rising and falling with his breaths and his heart beating strong and true.

You smile softly, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep. You’re with Kyojuro. You will get through this together, just like he said. But for now, nothing else exists. You are safe in the arms of love.

#sandwitchstories #rengoku kyoujurou #kyojuro rengoku smut #rengoku smut #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny x reader smut #demon slayer x reader smut

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the-one-who-lambs · 2 years

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About me!!

I'm Hannah (she/they). This is my Cult of the Lamb side blog; my main is @onethirdofimpossible and I also go by that username on AO3. I'm in my mid twenties and I'm from the US. If you're here, it's probably because you've read my fics, but I've written many fanfics for Cult of the Lamb. My works are typically focused on narilamb or the Bishop family, but I go all over the place: whether you like to read multichaps or oneshots, rated G or E, shippy or not, angst or fluff... there's probably something I've written that you'll enjoy! I'm best known as the author of The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God (the old version that I wrote back in 2022, and the new-and-improved "director's cut" version that is my current wip!) and The Care and Keeping of Baby Eldritch Gods.

A few other hobbies I have besides writing are cooking/baking, making plushies, digital art, and playing flute!

Despite being able to write pretty consistently, I'm a Ph.D. student in environmental science. If I haven't posted a fic update in a while, I'm probably preparing for a conference or getting into a fistfight with hydrostatic equilibrium or something.

Links

All my written works on AO3

Twitch, a recent endeavor of mine where I stream games and occasional art/writing!!

Fic playlist for The Risen Lamb and the Fallen God, with all songs in chronological order of what they refer to in the fic c:

I have a ko-fi but paypal is giving me shit so if you REALLY wanna b nice I have a Throne. I don't expect anything ever but if u get me something I'd die for you. and write more stuff while happier.

FAQ below the cut!

How long have you been writing?

I've been writing fanfiction since I was in sixth grade! I wrote what was basically a self-insert pokemon soulsilver fanfic, entirely by hand. It took up four full composition notebooks and then some. However, I've only been posting my writing publicly since 2016. Even after that, I had a nasty habit of making a sideblog for any fandoms I got really into, then deleting my blog and sometimes orphaning my works when I lost interest. I've since learned my lesson, though!

How long have you been drawing?

Ha, uh. I got a digital drawing tablet in May 2023, and started really drawing as a hobby for about... three months, and then the school year started again. Between then and June 2024 I drew like one or two things. So I've actually been practicing for only a few months. Constructive criticism on my art is welcome, especially as I learn!

May I send a fic/art request?

If my bio says they're open, you may, I think they're really fun! Depending on what does or doesn't inspire me, I won't take every single request, but I love requests because they give me excuses to try new things.

Do you write smut?

I've written a couple E-rated fics! My alternate pseud for fics of that caliber is remainderofreality. I don't write it very often, though.

What made you decide to start writing? What makes you decide to keep writing?

1. I had a creative bug I couldn't not itch. 2. Having creative hobbies and sticking to them has dramatically improved my life. I'm happier, I have so many friends it's connected me with, I get to see other people be inspired by things I make (?!), it keeps my mind active and playful, etc etc.

Do you have any suggestions for people looking to start writing?

Before you start worrying about the quality of your writing, the most important advice I can give you is to keep writing and have fun with it. Don't be afraid of being "cringe" or not getting the engagement numbers you're hoping for (in fact, it's better to not have any expectations about that at all!). Not everything you write is going to cater to everyone, and that's okay! But writing (especially fanfiction) is first and foremost for fun and even though it's difficult and you will struggle, it should be rewarding and fun. I've answered a few asks about writing advice and I can't find them all but here are the ones I can: 1 2 3 4

When do you expect to update your fic next?

Lmao god if I know but I'm working on my wips nearly every single day so I promise I haven't forgotten it. I'm a busy person! I'm a PhD student, teaching assistant, research assistant, and executive dysfunction haver.

Do you take commissions?

I don't, and I have no plans to as of now. I'm actually personally against writing fanfic for pay (copyright and ethical reasons), but for art I'm simply not experienced enough yet to be comfortable with that. However, I have TONS of friends who do take commissions so if you're looking for someone I can give you recs

May I draw fanart for you based on your fics?

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME I EXPLODE WITH JOY if you do please share it with me please please please. I will also likely ask for your permission to print it out and frame it (not a hyperbole, btw).

#about me #hannah's rambles

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

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After reading your last ask i was windering, as a reader, what should I do to let authors know I enjoyed their stories? I worry that reblogging and adding my own comments might be annoying to the writer. With fics with multiple chapters would it be better to reblog the masterlist or is reblogging every chapter annoying? I want to show my love but I don't want to bother the writers

I can’t speak for every writer, but personally I’ve never felt annoyed by rbs or replies or anything of the sort.

I think you could do any of the above. If you don’t want to flood your mutuals and followers with individual chapters of the same story, you could just rb the masterlist and say something nice in your rb. If you don’t care about flooding anyone’s feed, rb the SHIT out of those chapters.

As an author nothing makes me happier or more giddy inside then someone excessively reblogging my fics.

Fanfic authors are 100% praise whores and we LOVE to see what you have to say.

But also, just a thought, writers have anxieties too. If they don’t say anything back, it’s probably more to do with them not wanting to annoy you than it is because you’re annoying them.

So rb those chapters, masterlists, fics, say nice things, praise their work, and whatever else feels right to you in that moment. It’s appreciated more than any of us really know how to express.

Prime example is this rb from @zirconika that I’ve been giggling and kicking my feet about for DAYSSSS. But I didn’t respond to them cause I had no idea what to say that could accurately express how amazing something like this feels.

#fanfic writing #writers of tumblr #writeblr

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onlyonetifosi · 2 years

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I'm not him

-> Word Count: 572

-> Warnings: a lot of fluff, angst at the beggining, some steam at the end but nothing explicit

->Author note: Short fic about a mix of emotions for mick. I would appreciate if you send some ideas or requests for me to write. English is not my first language so sorry for mistakes

It's been almost five years since Michael Schumacher's devastating skiing accident. The world mourned the loss of one of the greatest Formula One drivers of all time. But for Mick Schumacher, it was a personal tragedy. He's the 23-year-old son of the seven-time world champion, he's not Mick, he's Michael's Schumacher son, and he's determined to make his own way in the sport. But the shadow of his father's accomplishments looms large. Mick knows that he will always be compared to his father. It's an impossible standard to live up to. And the pressure can be overwhelming at times. But Mick is determined to prove that he is his own man. He is a talented driver in his own right and he is determined to make a name for himself in the world of motorsport.

-Liebling this is mentally exhausting i can't keep being compared to my dad , it feels like i can't do anything without him being brought up. -Mick, you have to understand that your father is one of the most successful drivers in history. It's only natural that people are going to compare you to him.

-I know, but it's still hard. I just want to be my own person. -You are your own person, Mick. You're a talented driver with a bright future ahead of you. Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll make a name for yourself in this sport.

-No I'm not there isn't a gp where i see coments about my driving compared to my dad's- He says angry, getting up of the couch where we were cuddling.

-Micky, come back baby, I know you are having a hard time at Haas and being compared not only with your dad but Kevin- I say following him to our beedroom.

-I know he was a better driver than me, but who cares? I'm not him, I'm Mick not Michael- He says crying and i hug him.

-And you are the best driver in my eyes- I say kissing his tears as they fall from his face.

-I love you prinzessin- He says with a small smile and i kiss him passionately.

-What a nice view- he says pointing to the countryside from the balcony of our hotel in Monza.

We are here for the italian gp, we don't have many holidays but they are always special.

-I'm glad we could come here, honey- I say happy.

-You lived here, didn't you?- i say remembering some thing he told me about his junior categories years and living in Italy because of being a driver of the FDA.

-Yeah for 3-4 years actually- He says- I love my years here but i prefer home in Switzerland, with mum, Gina, Angie and going to Seb's to see him, Hanna and their kids.

-I hope we can go home soon- he sighs.

Only two weeks more, baby- I say hugging him and sitting on his lap.

Our kiss gets heated and more intense but not messy, deep and full of love, just like we do it.

We make sweet and pasionate love with the first rays of sun going through the window.

After that we go into the streets, enjoying the golden hour light that makes everything look even more beautiful. Now we're sleeping in my bed and i'll have to wake up early to go to work but i feel happier than ever with him.

I hope you like this! send me whatever you want to my asks.

I would love to know something about you!!

And would you like a mention list? like for me to mention you in my fics <3 <3

#mick shumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smut #mick schumacher #mick schumacher fluff #f1 blurb #f1 drivers x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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chaotictarlos · 1 year

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A future without you is no future at all

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: General | Warnings / Tags: 4 x 12, 4 x 12 Swipe Left, Self Doubt, Angst, hurt / comfort

Summary: Carlos and TK talk again later that night about kids and Carlos tells TK more about the fears that he has.

Author's Note: Personally, I think that this episode was so good and I really enjoyed watching it. I know some that didn't, and that's okay, but I am requesting that no negativity about the episode be discussed in the comments of this fic. I enjoyed the process of writing this fic and looking at it from both TK's and Carlos' POV. I hope that you all enjoy reading it.

thank you to @meditating-honey-badger for being my beta for this and all of the fun comments you left! I highly enjoyed them.

Season 4 Fic's

----

Carlos doesn’t know what he’s doing when he ends up at the pet store after taking his mother home. His heart is heavy, filled with thoughts of things he had tried so hard not to think about or bring up in his life. He told his mother that he doesn’t avoid things, but the truth is he does.

He avoids the hard conversations and tries to live in the happier moments, not wanting to say or do anything that could upset the balance of what he has in life. It’s not the best way to live or cope with the traumas he’s tried so hard to pretend he doesn’t have. He knows that, but it’s gotten him through so much of life already that it’s become second nature.

He wants to stop doing that. He’s not sure how but he knows he needs to figure it out, for his sake and TK’s.

Carlos drums his fingers across the steering wheel, thinking as he peers out the window at the pet store. It’s not one he’s been to - honestly he’s only ever been to one - but it’s the one that came up on Google when he searched “where to get pet lizards near me.” He knows that it’s not the solution to the problem, but he hopes it’s a symbol of how much he cares about TK.

Maybe it’ll help them bridge the chasm - as TK had put it - that opened up between them since the kid topic came up - a topic he had hoped naively would not come up for many years.

He sighs heavily, letting his head drop back against the headrest, and closes his eyes. His body feels heavy, shoulders tense with anxiety, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes because he’s sure that this is the end. This is what’s going to break him and TK, the difference of opinions on wanting kids, and Carlos won’t even blame TK. He can’t give him that, not yet and maybe not ever.

He sniffles, wiping his eyes, and forces himself out of the car, telling himself that a lizard might be a good compromise for the moment, maybe an olive branch to open the conversation he knows he needs to have with TK. If TK decides that Carlos being unsure and not ready to have kids - and maybe never being ready - is the deal breaker then at least TK can have a lizard to keep him company. It might be a better company for TK anyway, at least it wouldn’t break TK’s heart and make stupid decisions like buying an entire loft without talking to him.

Carlos pauses at the doors of the pet store and composes himself, pushing everything down once again and putting a charming smile on his face.

He is not going to run away screaming at all the reptiles the place probably has.

READ ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltk @firstprince-history-huh @brouill3r

#chaotic fics #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand x carlos reyes #tk strand #carlos reyes #4 x 12 #4 x 12 swipe left #tarlos fan fiction #tk strand fan fiction #carlos reyes fan fiction #911 lone star #911 ls

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fettuccin-e · 2 years

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Matt Murdock Fic Recs (Part III)

oh matty. my tortured, angsty, sexy man. why must you have a smile like pure sunshine? why must you have a fat ass? i am simply Not Normal about this man, so more fic recs!! PLEASE comment and reblog these works from these awesome writers, they so deserve it!! (also, if you are an author and would like to be removed from this list, let me know!!)

Part I and Part II of my Matt Murdock recs!

Choice and Chance and Promise by @courtforshort15

>> As much as you've tried, your feelings for Matt won't go away. No matter how must you try to ignore it, you will always love Matthew Murdock, even if he doesn't feel the same. One night, though, may change things. (mutual pining!!! happy ending!!! hooray amazing!!)

90 Days by @multiharlot

>> The day you lost Matthew Murdock was the worst you've ever experienced. The days that follow are painful, the road through your grief agonizing, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. (i read this when i need to cry. it is so. good. HOWEVER, there is some heavy depression and darkness in here, so please stay safe!!)

Reciprocum by @murdocks-devil

>> Matthew Murdock is a giver, through and through. He never takes anything for himself, even though he desperately needs it. So, you've learned how to make sure Matt gets what he needs, without making him think that he's taking too much. (just,, taking care of matty in the sweetest, fluffiest way. so so wonderful)

Shut Up by @skeletonsslut

>> You're trying to get him to stop, trying to pry him away. But Matt's mission is to make you cum as many times as possible, and he's never been one to shy away from a challenge. (porn. pure overstimulation porn. hell yeah.)

S.M.S. by @prettyeyesnof4ce

>> There are some mornings where you wake up early, with Matt still asleep next to you, calm and warm and soft. These mornings are few and far between, so you've learned to bask in them as much as possible. (the title literally stands for sleepy morning sex. PURE SMUT and its so nice)

For as Long as You'd Let Me by @fulmis

>> Matt knows that you deserve better than him, so he keeps his distance, burying his feelings deep inside himself. He should have known that you wouldn't stay single forever, but he didn't expect the sight of you with someone else to hurt so bad. (awwwee he's so tortured and sweet,, i LOVE angst with a happy ending)

"Playing Pool" Ask by @devils-dares

>> A drabble about playing pool with Matt, Foggy, and Karen as Mrs. Murdock. Foggy insists that it's not fair that you get someone with superpowers on your team, you've never been happier. (i ADORE domestic, married!Matty. this is so fucking cute.)

Funeral Liturgy by @redahlia-writes

>> Matthew Murdock is dead, and you have to organize his funeral. But no one has found his body, and you can't help traitorous hope from creeping in, praying that he's still alive. (pain. just,, pain but its so good and ends happy so don't worry!!)

Please Don't Be Mad by @chvoswxtch

>> After Matt lies to you about being with Elektra, you think about ending things. Finally leaving. But Matt always drags you back in, for better or for worse. You're weak to him, and he to you. (UGH the smut is fucking amazing, and the angst?? game-changing. PLEASE be warned though,, the relationship in this one is slightly toxic!!)

Just The Tip, Princess by @saintmurd0ck

>> College has been getting to you both. A game of truth or dare may take the edge off, and maybe bring some feelings to light. (College matty makes me fuckin FERAL are you kidding me?? the smut is simply top tier.)

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fluff #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut

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saryasy · 1 year

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

hi jo!!! thank you so much and to @writerkenna and @livingincolorsagain for the asks! okay let's see in no particular order:

1. 500 Days of Winter, M, 16.7K

In a small, dark room in the middle of nowhere, just outside Bucharest, two bodies intertwine. The chorus of sounds and three little words plays over and over and over again. They don't let go for one second.

Tomorrow the world will come knocking at their door, their lives will be turned upside down, but for now, they have each other, and for now, that's more than enough.

Or, the story of Sam and Bucky, and the five hundred days that bound them together.

okay I lied I'm starting with quite possibly my favorite fic I've ever written. I've put a lot of work and care into this one and I'm extremely happy with how it turned out. helps that I was possessed at the time and wrote it quicker than I ever would

2. my struggling form, my willing soul, T, 2K

It was hard, being back into the cold, gray world that was his New York apartment.

Sometimes, his eyes would look around frantically, searching for a sound that rang through the stillness. Only for him to realize that the sound came from within; an old memory, laughter and music, dancing, kids running around. A tender touch to his neck. A satisfied smile of finally being home. Eyes as beautiful as the sunset they were watching, just as striking, just as deep.

He could look at nothing else till the day he died, and would die happy and sure that he’d seen the most beautiful sight this world had to offer.

the first fic in my inspired by Hozier series! it was born into existence through sheer stubbornness (and my deep need to do a bucky character study) I kept listening to the song (which I still fucking love) and reading the lyrics and then this happened and I couldn't be happier

3. darling, i’d go through it again (if i could hold you for a minute), M, 1.8K

There’s an irritating feeling in his chest, making it harder to breathe. It was like this when he first stayed home and Sam started going on missions alone - well not exactly alone, but without Bucky. It took some time, but he got to a better point where he could actually breathe while Sam was away.

This is different, though. This isn’t the tightness of chest he’s come to be on familiar terms with, nor is it the forceful beating his heart has gotten used to dancing to.

He wants to voice it, to let it out, but when he goes to, the words lodge in his throat.

another one from the series and my first MCD! I really liked playing with the fantasy elements in it too

4. for all of the things i am (not), G, 1,8K

‘You’ll find the one,’ people like to say, but the thing is, he already has. He was lucky enough to find him in the scorching desert heat; blond locks that looked like they were on fire, a pair of green eyes so captivating, you couldn’t help but follow them everywhere, and a smile that could bring the proudest men to their knees. He found him, but he slipped away from between his fingers in the darkness of the desert sky as he sank to his fate. Forever falling, forever gone.

Or, Sam's grief catches up with him.

had to throw in my only gen fic up to date and ngl I wanna write another one. unfortunately the engagement with these is quite low I find myself leaning towards character studies with background shipping. but yeah would love to do it again

5. Firsts & Lasts, T, 613

You never know that your last time is going to be your last.

Or, Sam considers his lingering feelings for Riley, and his developing ones for Bucky.

look I have such a soft spot for samriley, I love writing them so fucking much. the tragedy is oh so gorgeous. I really hope to write that samriley idea I have one day

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky fic #my writing #asks #thank you for the ask dear!!

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streamafterlaughter · 2 years

Text

Fundamental Differing

gif credit

masterlist | playlist | chapter vii

Chapter VIII: It’s Enough To Startle Us

tags/warnings: brief descriptions of wounds, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, slow burn, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, angst (though this chapter is sufficiently less angsty. but i guess y’all deserve a break. but it’s not gone forever hehe)

summary: The events of the night before send Eddie into a panic, and you into even deeper confusion. lots of eddie’s pov in this one bc we love watching him writhe and suffer. This chapter is pretty short, but i think it’s necessary to break between this and when shit Goes Down soon. so stay tuned! feedback is always appreciated!

a/n: idk what happened but when i titled this fic i was so sure Schism by Tool had come out by 1992. Jokes on me, it didn’t until 2001, so we’re gonna ignore that (and not mention the song in the fic, even though it is the title. Bc i can’t change the title now! and i like it anyway! so there!) Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

April 1986

“Hey, hey. Easy now.” Eddie throws his arm over your shoulder for support as you help him sit up. “This is gonna sting, okay? But that’s because it’s working. We’re gonna make you feel better.”

“I know what’ll make me feel better.” Eddie’s words string together, a blissed out smile on his face. He’s on a lot of painkillers, making him far happier than he should be right now.

You give your boyfriend a sad smile. “That would make me happy, too. But the doctor said no strenuous activity for at least six weeks. We can’t prolong your healing process if you wanna walk at graduation. Arms up.”

He obliges, wincing as he raises his arms above his head. You take the hem of his shirt, gently pulling it up over his torso, revealing the stained and sticky bandages that cover his wounds. The sight hurts your heart, seeing the man you love in so much pain. You get to work undressing the wounds, careful to peel slowly as not to irritate the scabs underneath. Once he’s bare, Eddie looks down to see his scarred and serrated flesh, frowning at the gore. “Think these will scar?” He asks, going to poke one of his black and blue spots before you swat his hand away.

“Oh, I dunno, probably not too badly.” You dig around in your bag for the fresh gauze.

He frowns at your words. “If I’m gonna be impaired like this, the least I could get is some sick battle scars.”

You giggle at him, grateful he’s still himself even after such a traumatizing experience. “Okay fine. They’ll be the most gnarly, metal scars anyone’s ever seen.”

“That’s more like it.” Eddie looks up at you with glazed, sleepy eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You wet a piece of gauze with bacitracin.*

“For loving me. Takin’ care of me in my battered state. What’s a freak like me done to deserve such a beautiful companion?”

You blush at his words, knowing they ring true even through his fog. “You didn’t do anything. I just like ‘em freaky.” You lean in, and he meets you halfway connecting his lips to yours. “Now hold still, this is gonna suck.”

*a/n changed rubbing alcohol to bacitracin bc why tf would u use rubbing alcohol on healing wounds supposedly assessed by a doctor. it’s not like they’re dirty jfdkjccj anyway.. moving on

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

The sun streams in through the haphazardly drawn shades of his hotel room, rousing him from another uncomfortable sleep. Eddie groans, the pounding in his head increasing as he shifts to lie on his back. He’s still fully clothed, sans his boots, left with indents on his arms made by the denim of his vest. He tries, desperately, to recount the events of last night. I gambled, I lost, I came back here, I went to see… Oh no.

He shoots up in bed, regretting it immediately as the sharp pain in his head jabs him again. What the fuck did I say to them? He squeezes his eyes shut, begging his brain to let him remember. He only sees the look on your face, a pitying concern as you yank his shoes off, leaving him to fight the hangover the next day. He remembers mumbling to you as the door opened, one foot already in the hallway. Shit.

It’s probably the most honest he’s been with you in years, but he didn’t want it to happen that way. It isn’t fair, after you finally got everything you’ve ever wanted, to drop what probably was a huge bomb on you. He assumes it was, at least.

—

Your POV

Ugh. You rise from your bed, kicking the comforter off as you try to ignore the pounding in your head. Memories of last night flood back like a tidal wave, and you're helpless in stopping them. I'd still choose you. Eddie’s words repeat in your head like a broken record, a mantra you desperately want to believe even though you know you shouldn’t. You need to tell someone. You need to talk to Steve.

You caress the hotel phone between your ear and your shoulder, dialing Steve’s room number and tapping your socked foot on the carpet. Pick up, pick up, pick up. “Hello?” His voice is groggy, you must’ve woken him up.

“Rise an’ shine, buddy, I have drama I need to spill.” You rush the words out and Steve responds with a sigh.

“What happened? You get back okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Well, I'm not fine, that’s why I’m calling. But I got back okay.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” You can almost hear him place his hand on his hip.

“Eddie came to my room last night.” The line is silent. You hear Steve inhale sharply, but nothing else. “Earth to Steve?”

“Hey, yeah. Sorry, I feel like this is my fault.”

“How is Eddie drunkenly banging on my hotel room door your fault?”

“I may have told him to do it.”

“YOU WHAT?!” You can’t help but bellow the words, surprised by your best friend’s idiocy.

“I didn’t tell him to do that, but I keep telling him he needs to talk to you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve relays this news to you. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you two need to fix this shit! I’m tired of playing messenger when one of you gets drunk and sad and talks about the other for hours. You two need to start acting like adults!”

“Steve, who is asking you to play messenger? I’m asking you to play, I dunno, best friend? I never asked you to tell Eddie anything, I only need you to listen to me whine!”

“You ever think I’m tired of listening to you two whine?!”

You chew your bottom lip. “The thought may have crossed my mind. Whatever! He shouldn’t have come to my room drunk. He said some weird shit.”

It’s Steve’s turn to go meek. “What kind of weird shit?”

You debate whether to tell him, whether Steve really needs to know the gory details. You eventually decide he does, as your hired caretaker. “He pretty much told me, if I’d give him the chance, he’d drop everything. Be with me.”

Steve groans into the receiver, and it pulls a breathy laugh from your nervous throat. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“You think he meant it?”

“Has he ever lied to you?”

You take a second to answer. He’s hidden things from you, but he’s never outwardly lied. Eddie’s known for his blunt truthfulness, in fact, and it’s one thing you admire about him. “No, he’s never lied to me. Even while drunk.”

“Okay, then he’s probably not lying. The real question is if he remembers saying that.”

“Chances are he’ll act like he doesn’t, regardless.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock on the nightstand. “Shit, I gotta go. I promised everyone we’d get breakfast. Will you check on Eddie for me?”

“You could check on him?”

“Haha, good one! No, thanks.”

“Yeah, I’ll check on him. Take it easy on him if you do talk, though. You know as well as I do he hasn’t been doing well.”

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Stevie.”

“Of course, Y/n. See you later.”

“Bye.” The line clicks, and you hang up. Ugh!

—

You relay last night’s events to your bandmates and stylist at breakfast between sips of mimosas.

“He said that?!” Robin almost chokes on her pancake, causing Sylvie to snort orange juice through their nose. “And you just left?! Y/n!” Robin scarfs down another bite between sentences, eager to finish her thought.

“Honestly, I can’t believe Steve told him to talk to you!” Harley scoffs, her pretty eyes rolling. “Men are so dumb!”

You shrug. “I wish he’d just talk to me like a normal person. Only ever happens when he’s drunk, or I’m drunk, or some weird third party pisses one of us off enough.”

“Do you miss him?” Sylvie asks between nibbles of bacon.

You aren’t sure. Of course, you miss the people you were. You miss how real that love felt, how Eddie always felt like home. Until he got signed, a year out of high school, and let the fame eat at his heart slowly. “I don’t know.” You shake your head sadly.

“Maybe you two need, like, an intervention.” Lilith suggests, earning a baffled look from you in response. “What? You guys were in love, that’s super close to being addicted to something. And Eddie could probably use a real intervention, all the drinking he’s been doing.” She adds sadly, “Death and rock ‘n’ roll go hand in hand. I'd hate to see him end up like that.”

You think back to high school. To the Upside Down, and Eddie almost dying. For him to go through that and survive, only to be taken out by too much whiskey, would destroy you. You nod. “Maybe we do need an intervention. But isn’t part of the point for us to be surprised by it? What good will it do if I know?”

Lilith shrugs. “I'm not a doctor!”

It causes an eruption of laughter from your table.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Dude.” Steve whacks him on the arm as he sits down at the table. Hotel guests bustle around them, picking from stale muffins and cold eggs for their so-called continental breakfast.

“Ow! What?” Eddie’s nursing an orange juice, playing with the bacon on his plate that’s burnt and cold.

“I made sure you got to your room last night. I watched you go inside. When did you go see Y/n?”

“Steve, I know you’re used to being the babysitter, but I’m a grown man. I can go on a nightly excursion or two if I feel so inclined.” Eddie takes another sip of his juice as Steve pours himself some coffee.

“Okay, but those little side quests shouldn’t include embarrassing yourself, right?”

“Did they say I embarrassed myself?” He can’t help the worry that colors his tone.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I added that. But you know that isn’t what I meant when I said you should talk. That’s probably the last thing I meant.”

“Yeah, see, my drunk brain doesn’t really care what someone means versus what they tell me to do. You said talk, I talked. Nothing happened.”

“And you don’t know what you said?” Eddie shakes his head. “Do you want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Y/n told me you said you’d drop everything for them. If they’d give you that chance, you’d choose them over this. Over Corroded Coffin.”

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s underwater. He’s drowning, Steve’s voice sounding more muted as the seconds tick by. He only blinks at his friend, offering no hints of what he’s thinking. He knows he means the words, but knowing he’s said them aloud is a whole different game.

“Ed?”

“Hm?” Eddie drags his eyes away from the wall in front of him, slowly bringing his attention back to Steve.

“Did you mean that?”

He looks into his best friend’s eyes. They’ve grown tired, not with age but with increased proximity to terror and now, two very immature adults.

Eddie throws his hands up, waving them like a white flag of surrender. “Maybe I do! Does that mean it’s logical? That I should give up everything to be with them? I don’t know! They’ve done little more than put up with me so far, I can’t gauge the way they feel about me. I just know that I-“

“You love them. Yeah. That’s been established.”

Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. It’s a sound of utter defeat, tinged maybe by a bit of acceptance. “What am I gonna do now?!”

It’s Steve’s turn to throw his hands up. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Fine,” Eddie brings himself to his feet dramatically, somehow not toppling over as the room spins slightly. “Then I’ll ask someone I know can help me.”

—

Eddie finally finds her, sitting by the hotel pool with a thick book in her lap. Eddie steps up to where she’s lounging, her freckled skin damp from the moist air. She looks up at him, cupping her hand over her eyes to block the rays of sun escaping behind Eddie’s wild curls. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Hey, Bobby.” Eddie plops down on the plastic chair next to Robin, clasping his hands together as if to plead with her. “How’re things?”

Robin makes a show of snapping her book shut, angling her body to face Eddie. “What the hell do you want, Munson?”

Eddie feigns offense, clutching his chest with one hand, mouth agape like she’s told him Metallica don’t make good music anymore. “Why, it’s lovely to see you, too!” He scoffs, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

Robin doesn’t respond, her lips remain pursed as she waits for him to get to his point. It deflates Eddie, someone he was once so close with acting so coldly towards him. Though he supposes he should be used to the treatment by now. “I did a dumb thing.”

Robin lets out a laugh, but she lacks any trace of humor in her face. “On what planet would I want to help you cover your own stupid ass? We aren’t like that anymore, Ed. Get a grip.”

“Please, just listen to me. It’s about Y/n.” He recoils at his words, like saying them causes him pain. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how they took it, I was drunk, it kinda just slipped out.” He rambles on, much to Robin’s amusement. It’s not every day Robin isn’t the one letting her tongue flap on its own. “Wait. Did they tell you?” He takes in her smug expression, the way her arms cross over her chest. “Oh my god, they told you.” He’s mortified, jumping back into the air like an exterior force has ejected him from his seat.

“They told me. Of course, they told me!” Robin stands up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “They aren’t the one who left me when they got signed.”

Eddie’s heart cracks at her words. You’re not the only one that feels he left them. “Well, hang on. That’s different, you and Y/n are in the band together. Why would they leave you?”

Robin sighs. “That’s not the point, dingus! You broke both our hearts when you got signed. We barely heard from you for months at a time, and when we saw you, you were mean! And god, don’t get me started on Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Eddie’s almost sure she’s fucking with him now, Steve has never actually liked him that much.

“Never mind. Why do you need my help? What’s done is done, right? You said the thing, they probably didn’t believe you anyway.”

“What did they say?”

Robin shakes her head. “That’s for me to know, and for you to hope they’ll trust you enough to clue you in.”

Eddie hugs his arms around himself, shielding his vital organs from Robin’s magazine of words hurtling toward him. Each one stings more than the last, but he powers through. “I wanna make it up to them. I want to be normal around them.”

“Try not drinking an entire bottle before you see them next time. Just hang out. Don’t play mind games with them. Be a fucking normal human.” She ticks the suggestions on her fingers. “You can’t make a grand gesture after two years of not seeing them. It will take time for them to trust you again. Especially with your later track record.”

Eddie huffs, trying to calm himself as Robin berates him. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. This will take time.”

“Don’t do it for their sake. They’re okay without you, y’know. I don’t wanna see them hurt like that again. So if you’re gonna try to be in their life, in our lives again, you better fucking mean it.”

Eddie nods so hard his head pounds. He means it, he swears he means it. Robin nods back, doubt still painted on her freckles. She doesn’t believe him.

“Rob?” She looks back into his eyes, and he can read the hurt in her expression. He’s been so caught up, living what he thought was the only dream he had. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

She scoffs, this time less convincingly. “‘Course ya are.” It takes everything in him not to wrap his arms around his estranged friend, muttering apologies until the sun sets. But he has other things to fix now, more amends to make.

—

Your POV

You’re smoking a joint in the dressing room of the club. The openers tonight are some Vegas locals, you forget what they’re called. Your friends are socializing somewhere backstage, waiting for the show runner to summon you to the stage. Usually you’d have joined them by now, but you’re marinating in Eddie’s words of last night, trying to find a hint of truth in them. You don’t know if there is any, if anything would convince you Eddie would choose you over his dream. You’d never asked him to, you never wanted him to have to choose. Being with him through it all was the point. But he chose to stop making you a priority the bigger Corroded Coffin got. The more attention he received from the public, the less you received from him.

Your eyes are closed, joint between your lips as My Drug Buddy plays quietly on your little radio when there’s a knock on the open door to the room. You mumble a “come in,” expecting Harley to touch up your makeup, or Steve to give you your pep talk.

“Hi.” His familiar voice sends a chill down your back, and your eyes shoot open. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame like an out of place mannequin.

“Hi.” You shift on the couch, sitting up and crossing your legs as if to look more awake than you feel. He doesn’t say anything else, and you’re not sure why he’s here, but you’re tired of walking on eggshells any time he’s in front of you. You offer the still lit joint in his direction, not moving so he’d have to walk to you to get it. “Smoke?”

He can’t resist, he pushes off the wall and walks toward you, plucking the burning herb from your fingers. “Mind if I sit?”

You shrug, scooching over slightly to make room for him. You watch as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes as he fills his lungs. He’s already dressed for the show, his shirt a plain white tee he’s cropped so it sits just above his navel, and his jeans majorly ripped at each knee. Sylvie’s question rings through you again. Do you miss him? Based solely on this moment, his proximity to you, his knee daringly close to brushing yours, you think you have your answer.

Before you can ask, Eddie speaks again. “Look, about last night,” He pauses to ash the joint, bringing it to his lips once more. “I was wasted. That wasn’t fair to you, having to listen to all that. I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

He passes the joint back to you, and you inhale deeply before responding, tasting the remnants of his own mouth on the filter. “It’s okay, I get it. I know it’s hard being around me like this.” You look to the floor, trying to ignore the way your heart continues to bang in your chest.

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, of course it’s hard, seeing you again. But not because you left, not because anything you did hurt me. It’s just, being reminded of what could have been. What I did wrong.”

You look back into his eyes, and they’re misty, sparkling in the harsh lights of the room. He doesn’t blame you for leaving him? “Did you mean what you said? Last night?” You’re not sure what you want his answer to be.

He hesitates for a second. When he responds, it’s like he’s ripping the rug out from under you. “I think I did. I do, I mean. I do mean it. But that’s all hypothetical. I don’t expect you to trust me, I did a lot of things wrong when we broke up. But maybe we could just, I dunno, be friends? At least for the tour.” His smile is sad, but his words make your heart flutter. Friends. It’s more than you could ask for, all you’d wanted was civility, peace of mind. But “friends” sounds so hopeful, so promising.

You nod, plucking the joint from his fingers again. “I really, truly, would love that. Friends.”

He smiles again, this time an ear to ear, giant smile that you’d missed seeing.

“Hey, Y/n-“ Steve pauses in the doorway then, cutting himself off to take in the sight in front of him: You and Eddie smiling at each other, sitting so close you’re almost touching. “You uh, you guys okay?” You both nod, and for the first time you’re sure you mean it. “Alright, cool. Death Dance goes on in ten. See you out there.” You catch the knowing smirk Steve sends you, and you bite your lip in excitement, or embarrassment, you’re not sure. When Steve leaves, you chance another look at Eddie, who averts his eyes quickly to the couch space between you.

“I should finish getting ready.” You don’t want him to leave, you’re afraid to lose this mirage of calm with him.

He nods, bringing himself to his feet and offering his hand to help you out. You take it in yours, ignoring the chill that once again shoots through you. “Break a leg.” He says, still standing awkwardly close to you, unsure of what to do with himself. You nod, thanking him silently, and he turns on his heel and leaves you again, alone in the room with several confusing and contradicting thoughts.

—

chapter ix

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #gn!reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #slow burn #angst #pining #miscommunications #tense friendship #forced proximity #stranger things fanfiction #90s au #strangerthingscentral #stranger things 4 #st4

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frillyfacefins · 2 years

Text

Ozzie's Toy (Ozzie/Fizzarolli)

Fandom: Helluva Boss Rating: Explicit Pairing: Asmodeus/Fizzarolli Tags: Amputation Kink, human fleshlight, more like imp fleshlight but you get my drift, Kind of Body Horror, fizz has some major ptsd about the whole amputation business, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Power Imbalance, ozzie's bodily fluids have mildly magical properties, this is set early in their relationship, kinda dark bc they're not really communicating here, Fizz thinks he has to do whatever Ozzie wants so Ozzie will keep him Word Count: 4,809

Also on AO3

Summary:

„You‘re being so good for me, Fizzy.“ Ozzie braces himself on his elbows above Fizzarolli, bracketing his entire body with his arms. Fizz is so small like this - half his usual size when his legs aren‘t extended. „I‘m going to blow your fucking mind tonight…“ Fizzarolli tries to grin; he‘s pretty sure it works. „You better, cupcake… I‘m not doing this kinky shit just so you can get an eye full…“ Ozzie‘s eyes crinkle, and oh, that feels better. He just has to lean into it. „So what else is on the menu tonight, beside 100% pure imp meat with no additives?“ He wriggles his stumps a little in a mockery of seductive writhing and bats his lashes at Ozzie. *~*~* Fizz always takes what Ozzie gives him. And if that's an order to take off his limbs for the night? Well, he's not going to say no, is he?

Author's Note:

This originally had a happier ending, but then I wrote the tags of this fic and realized that... Nah. Needs to be nastier. I mean, listen, this is smut between a weird jester demon and the literal embodiment of the sin of Lust, written by me, what did you expect?

(Or, as my friend said: "Don't be afraid to go meaner.")

Fizzarolli is done for the night. The house band is playing the last guests out and the bouncers are going through the restrooms to find whatever stragglers are either fucking or passed out in there. He still feels sweaty and amped up when he comes into Ozzie‘s office and hops onto his desk.

„All good?“ Ozzie asks while he carefully puts some fishy-smelling papers into a pink file folder and then into the out-tray for paperwork that needs to get to other rings. Fizz feels weird at the thought that he now knows the meaning of every one of Ozzie‘s color-coded document trays. The things he does for the best lay in hell…

„All good. Ya might rethink hiring acts from Sloth, though. That Horse-bitch was an hour late, so we had to juggle the schedule…“

Ozzie reaches for Fizz and rubs one large finger over his head. „That‘s why the other acts were from Lust, Fizzy. She‘s a favorite of Belphy‘s, so I figured she was good, but if you don‘t like her we don‘t have to have her back. Not like she‘ll care.“

Fizzerolli shrugs. „She wasn‘t that bad. Next time we should schedule her first instead of third, though, so she might actually show before midnight…“

„Hmm,“ Ozzie hums and swivels around to pull one of the many file drawers open. He pulls out the file with the demoness‘s name on it, makes a note on a pink post-it, and adds it.

„Why the fuck are you still using paper,“ Fizz grouses, not for the first time. „You know computers have been invented, right?“

„Fizzy darling, I know enough about robotics and all that shit to know that I do not want a machine to have all of my documentation,“ Ozzie says patiently as he puts the file away again.

Fizzarolli‘s robotic joints whir as he crosses his legs and leans back until he is lying on the desk and looking at Ozzie upside-down. „But it would give you more time to spend with me, Ozzie…“ he whines.

Ozzie chuckles and teasingly pulls on one of Fizz‘s hat tails. „Aw, are you jealous of my paperwork, Fizzipop?“ At least he is putting away his fancy ass fountain pen now, and Fizzarolli immediately begins to wag his tail - the one attached to his butt, not the hat one.

„Of course I‘m jealous. I‘m jealous of everything you spend time on that isn‘t me,“ he says with a broad grin.

„Aw, poor Fizzy“ the larger demon purrs, standing up and plucking his favorite little jester off his desk. „I guess I‘ll have to make it up to you that I‘ve spent so much time today on these acquisition forms, hm…“

Fizz‘s grin grows wider as he goes boneless in Ozzie‘s hand instead of jumping on his shoulder, so he has to carry him. „Yep, you have to, Ozzie,“ he says on a cackle.

Ozzie lets out a little huff of blue smoke, then he opens a portal to his palace and steps right through. The portal opens right into their bedroom instead of the kitchen where they would usually have a snack after work. That‘s just fine with Fizz, though - he is definitely hungry for something different than pizza rolls, and by the looks of him, so is Ozzie.

The portal closes noiselessly, and Ozzie puts his top hat onto its hat stand and starts to undo his vest.

„Clothes off, Fizzy, and then move your cute little ass onto the bed.“

His anticipation is making Fizzarolli vibrate so much that the bells on his outfit are jingling. He quickly undoes his ruffled collar, throwing it to the side in a cacophony of bells before he slips off the cuffs on his wrists and his high heels. He wriggles out of his shirt and pants while he‘s on his way onto the bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind in his eagerness to finally get Ozzie‘s undivided attention.

„Hat too, Fizzy.“

That request makes Fizzarolli go still. There is only gentle amusement in Ozzie‘s voice, as if he‘s asking him to not drag dirt onto the carpets when what he is actually asking him is to take off his armor, to put his most vulnerable parts on display. If Ozzie was just going to fuck him even more silly than he already was, he wouldn‘t ask something like that from him.

His anticipation settles into dread. There is no place for shame in the Lust ring, but he still feels confused and vaguely guilty.

„Did I do something wrong, Ozzie?“ he asks in a small voice.

Ozzie, now only clad in his half-unbuttoned pink shirt and his thigh-high boots, turns around to look at him. His face softens when he sees the insecure look on his little favorite‘s face.

„No, baby, don‘t worry.“ He is at the bed with one step, and Fizz has to adjust his balance when he sits down and makes the mattress quake. Ozzie reaches over to him and pets his head again, gently rubbing his fingers down to his shoulder blades. „There‘s something I wanted to try for a while, but I need you completely open and vulnerable for that. If you‘re not up for intense stuff, we don‘t have to do it, though.“

Fizzarolli frowns, then he shoots out his arms and propels himself up to Ozzie‘s shoulder. Ozzie‘s hand immediately comes up to rub his back again while Fizz rubs his face into his light-blue fluff. The disembodied bull-face snuggles up to him in turn. „Nah, let‘s do it. You just caught me off guard, is all.“

The thought of taking off his hat makes him nauseous, but in the end, it‘s no big deal, right? Ozzie has seen him without it before; he doesn‘t ever seem to be disgusted by the state of him. If Ozzie wants him that way - if he wants to see him like that - then Fizzarolli will do what he wants, like he always does.

Fizz has always been proud that he can keep up with Ozzie most of the time; that he can find pleasure in the weirdest kinks, that he can be presented with a sexual preference or a new kind of play and immediately understand what about it is hot enough to tempt the Embodiment of Lust.

He doesn‘t want to be a party-pooper, ever. Ozzie is the best thing that ever happened to him, and even when he asks him to do things like this for him - things that make him tingle in a less than pleasant way, things that make him feel small and helpless - he wants to make him happy.

Ozzie turns his main face towards him and gives his forehead a little peck. „Alright, baby. Do you want me to take it off for you?“

Fizzarolli takes a deep breath and concentrates on the feeling of Ozzie‘s fluff against his cheek. „Yes, please,“ he says in a soft voice and closes his eyes.

He feels the bull-face rub against him again, causing a weird, slightly electrical tingling to run from his cheek down into his tense shoulders. He feels Ozzie tug at his hat tail again, but this time he tugs until it slides off his head. His head feels immediately cold. Usually he doesn‘t even take the hat off to sleep. He can feel the air against the top of his nubs, where the vestiges of his cornual nerves still give the broken remnants of his horns some feeling, though it always feels like carefully prodding an open wound - not really painful, but also definitely not pleasurable.

Ozzie gives him a little rub between his horns, where touches still feel good, and where Ozzie rarely gets to touch him. His hat is carefully put aside with a tiny jingle, then Ozzie scoops him off his shoulder and holds him with both hands in the air while he gives him a slow, sweet kiss. He‘s being so gentle with him that Fizz heart aches in that way that feels nearly like a panic attack.

He puts him down with his head on his gigantic pillows and throws off his shirt, so they both are finally naked. Fizzarolli shivers with delight at the way Ozzie is bending over him, filling his entire field of vision with his dark blue immensity, Fizz‘s very own night sky, with Ozzie‘s smiling eyes two beautiful moons surrounded by pale blue fog, his colorful rooster tail an aurora in the periphery of his view.

Ozzie kisses the mark on his forehead, then his lips. He lingers there for a moment, and Fizzarolli opens his mouth to get a taste of his favorite drug. Ozzie indulges him, licking into his mouth, making his body buzz with his saliva. Fizzarolli know‘s it‘s not addictive - that it only has very weak aphrodisic properties, not comparable to Ozzie‘s precum or slick, but it just gives him enough, just makes him feel warm and loose and tingly, and he just can‘t imagine ever living without.

Maybe because just imagining that would send him down a spiral he wouldn‘t be able to pull himself out of.

„You taste like appletinis, Fizzy baby,“ Ozzie whispers against his face, then he moves farther down and kisses both of his nipples. Fizzarolli is shivering now, sighing and mewling with pleasure. He is still so sensitive when it comes to Ozzie… Even the way he kisses his stomach makes his cock jerk with need.

Ozzie indulges him, laving his broad tongue over Fizzarolli‘s cock and balls before he lets it slip down over his taint for just a second.

He pulls away before Fizz can really start enjoying himself. He sits back on his haunches and looks at his little imp as if he was an especially appetizing piece of sushi. He even licks his lips. Fizz feels himself heat up under that look. It‘s a little like the rush he gets when he‘s on stage, but deeper, more dangerous and maybe even more real. He doesn‘t need to put up an act, doesn’t need to be funny or clever or energetic. He has always loved being looked at - craves it more than anything else. But nobody has ever looked at him quite like Asmodeus does.

Being desired by the Lord of all Desires… It‘s no wonder he feels dizzy.

„Take off your arms and legs, Fizzy,“ Ozzie rumbles above him, and Fizzarolli feels like his heart stops.

„…What?“

Ozzie‘s face changes in the way it would if he had eyebrows and raised one. „You heard me, Fizzy…“ His voice is like hot cocoa spiked with whiskey as he trails a finger down Fizzarolli‘s breastbone to his belly button. „Take them off. I want you soft and helpless for me, baby. None of the whirly parts.“

When Fizz still hesitates, Ozzie kisses him again and gives his lower lip a nibble. Fizzarolli doesn‘t know if it‘s supposed to be a warning or a comfort.

„Just think of it as reverse bondage, darling,“ he whispers when he pulls away again.

Reverse bondage. Sure. He can do that for Ozzie. He can let go of his arms and legs for the demon who freed him from Mammon, who looked at him and saw through his costume and his act and still wanted what he saw. He can give himself up to him for a night. Right?

He ignores the way his heart beats against his stomach and swallows down the dread and the acid. He takes off his legs first. Pushing the pressure points of the complex release mechanism feels unnatural, wrong, not unlike pushing your fingers into an open wound when you’re hopped up on so many drugs you can no longer feel pain. He does the same with his left arm, but Ozzie has to help with the right one. Fizz can extend it far enough that his hand can reach his upper arm, but the angle isn’t quite right and he can’t get a proper grip on the mechanism. Ozzie has been talking about using advanced cybernetics to bond the limbs to his body - Fizzarolli isn’t sure how exactly that would work, just that they would need to heighten the nerve control he uses to move his limbs, and that would mean Ozzie would have to fuck around with his spine, put a chip in there or something.

Fizz isn’t ready to let him do that. So for now, the attachments remain mechanic.

Ozzie kisses him deeply while he picks up his prosthetics. Fizzarolli watches him move to the side of the bed and carefully set down the bundle of metal limbs on the plush carpet.

Fizzarolli tries to grin; he‘s pretty sure it works. „You better, cupcake… I‘m not doing this kinky shit just so you can get an eye full…“

Ozzie‘s eyes crinkle, and oh, that feels better. He just has to lean into it.

„So what else is on the menu tonight, beside 100% pure imp meat with no additives?“ He wriggles his stumps a little in a mockery of seductive writhing and bats his lashes at Ozzie.

Ozzie lowers himself over Fizz until he can feel his fluffy feathers tickle his naked belly. „Well, you see, my little darling…“ He kisses his cheeks, his forehead, his horn stumps and then back down. „For dessert, I was thinking about stuffing my favorite little jester like an eclair, pump you full until the cream‘s coming out on both ends…“

Fizzarolli lets out a deep purr. „Hmmm, I can definitely get behind that idea…“ He strains up to catch Ozzie‘s lip in a cheeky little nip. Ozzie growls at him, then he kisses him hard, and Fizz can‘t help it that his purring becomes so loud that it‘s shaking all that is left of his body. It‘s instinct that he tries to embrace Ozzie; he can only push his stumps against Ozzie‘s feathers, of course, but at least his tail can still reach the back of Ozzie‘s head and try to push him closer.

It‘s difficult to stop thinking and sink into lust when his body isn‘t working like it normally does.

But this is how Ozzie wants him tonight, and he makes that clear when he pushes his hands under Fizzarolli‘s body, one under his shoulders, the other under his butt, so he can lift all of him when he sits up. He lifts him to his mouth and licks a broad strip from his balls up to his chest, the way you do with a cigarette paper before you roll it.

„Mm…“ he goes, taking another lick of his chest. „Delicious…“

It‘s a good thing that Fizz doesn‘t have issues with heights. It‘s not unlike trapeze, being handled like this. With no way to catch himself if he falls, he has to to completely trust Ozzie as he moves him around like a rag doll. Ozzie keeps licking and kissing and nibbling his skin, giving his stumps as much attention as his chest and his belly before he flips him around and holds him slightly head-down while he works his tongue between his ass cheeks. In this position, Fizz can at least do more with his prehensile tail than just rub over Ozzie‘s feathers. He pushes the tip of his tail into Ozzie‘s neck fluff and grabs a bushel of it as well as he can, just to regain the tiniest bit of control as Ozzie makes a meal of his hole.

It doesn‘t take long until Fizzarolli is sweating and cursing and shivering in Ozzie‘s hands, desperately trying to pull him closer with his tail but just ending up tugging at him helplessly. Ozzie is so fucking good at this - no wonder with him having an actual sixth sense for other people‘s lust and desires. His tongue is literal magic, reaching deeper inside of Fizz than it has any right to, and when he pulls it out and flicks it through his crack he even hits that spot right under his tail perfectly.

The hot, wet tongue swipes down again, but this time it moves down his taint and over his balls, before it wraps around his cock in a way that makes Fizz see stars. The wave of pleasure coming off him has to hit Ozzie right in the face, because he can hear the demon king behind him moan deep in his throat.

Ozzie gives his crotch a last long lick, pushing it against his belly, and then he pulls back and flips Fizz around again. Ozzie‘s face splits in a satisfied grin.

„Such a lovely meal,“ he rumbles. He has to put him down for the next part; even with their size difference, Ozzie can‘t comfortably hold him up in the kind of position he needs him in when he starts fingering him open. Ozzie‘s finger is already magically slick when he pushes it into Fizzarolli‘s spit-wet hole. His sex magic isn‘t functionally different from the Concubi, though like everything about Ozzie it is more intense, more potent. While his spit works like a mix of alcohol and pheromones, and his slick and precum prolong and intensify his partners‘ orgasms, the lube he conjures up to cover his fingers immediately makes Fizz‘s hole relax. Sometimes he wonders if it makes him more sensitive, but there‘s no real way to answer that. Sex with Ozzie is like nothing else, even when they use toys instead of Ozzie‘s body. There are so many reasons for that, of course - starting with Fizz‘ limited experience, which is nearly completely comprised of partners who weren‘t very experienced themselves or of partners who didn‘t care about Fizz‘s pleasure. Of course he got his mind blown when he‘d been swept off his feet by the King of the Lust Ring himself, the embodiment of that very sin, whose very being combines everything debauched and indulgent and pleasurable.

When his finger pulls out, Fizzarolli immediately feels empty. He doesn‘t really need preparation, since a) they only had sex yesterday and b) nothing physical could ever prepare him for Ozzie‘s sheer size, so there is magic involved anyway, but Ozzie loves to touch every part of him, to mark and claim every nook and cranny of his little jester.

At some point, Fizz must have closed his eyes, because when he opens them he sees that Ozzie is staring down at him. He can feel those glowing eyes travel over his body, over his sweaty face, the mottled red and white of his skin, his flicking tail and his shivering stumps. He drinks in the sight of his slender, dripping cock lying against his belly, a soft sigh coming out on a wave of blue smoke as he rubs his thumb over what is left of Fizzarolli‘s inner thigh.

Something about that look on Ozzie‘s face is too much for Fizz, so he does the only thing he knows to do when he needs to get out of any kind of situation.

„What‘s the hold-up, Big O? Don‘t tell me you‘re out of juice already?“ He pushes his hips up, wiggling his ass and wrapping his tail around Ozzie‘s wrist. „Don‘t leave me hanging here…“

Ozzie makes a chastising clucking noise and pushes the tip of his thumb against the rim of Fizz‘ wet, sensitive hole. „So impatient, baby… Be a doll and let Daddy enjoy the view for a bit.“

„Can‘t do much more than be a doll here anyway,“ Fizzarolli complains, wiggling his limbless body some more. „Or maybe more of a sausage than a doll…“

„Oh, I know exactly what you are, Fizzy baby…“ Finally Ozzie lifts him up again, and his grin makes something in his belly do cartwheels. „I think I just had an idea for some new merchandise…“ He shifts him into one hand for a moment to line up his cock with Fizz‘s achingly empty hole. He pushes until his cockhead slides in, then he grasps Fizz‘s trembling body in both hands and slowly, slowly pulls him down his length. „How much, do you think, would people pay for an authentic fleshlight replica of that lovely hole, complete with a little wise-cracking robo-fizz head? Kinda like one of those talking dolls, just pre-recorded voice lines and those nut-wrenching noises you make when you really enjoy the dicking you‘re getting…“

Just then Ozzie bottoms out, and Fizz is spasming around his cock, garbling out something that might have been a moan or a cry of pain as his brain is getting overloaded with pleasure.

„That‘s exactly what I‘m talking about,“ Ozzie says on a low rumble that‘s more from his throat than his belly, more of a bird coo than an imp‘s purring, but that still makes Fizz feel warm and fuzzy in a different way than the bone-melting heat wrecking his body as Ozzie slowly drags him back and forth on his cock. It‘s a real mind-fuck to imagine how he looks right now, but because Fizz‘s mind has always been fucked, he can‘t help but think about how Ozzie is literally using him like a fleshlight, how his body is nothing but a flesh cylinder for Ozzie to jack off with. He doesn‘t know if he‘s horrified or exhilarated at the thought. These days, he often can‘t tell those two things apart.

It feels so fucking good, though. Sex with Ozzie is always incredible, obviously, but just the fact that he doesn‘t have to think about what to do with his limbs, that he can‘t control anything but the tightness of his core and his swishing tail… He doesn‘t have to do anything - he can‘t do anything. He just has to exist in his body and take whatever Ozzie decides to give him.

And what Ozzie is giving him is incredibly good dick.

He is still moving him like a fleshlight, but while his motions earlier were slow and drawn-out, luxuriating in the tight heat of his body, now his motions are becoming faster. His hands are squeezing Fizz‘s body more as he jerks himself off with it, the eyes of all three of his heads are closed, his pumping becoming more and more erratic.

It‘s a wonder that Fizz hasn‘t already come, but he can feel that he‘s not going to last much longer. He closes his eyes as well and just sinks into the feeling, until he is nothing more but flesh singing with pleasure, both feeding Ozzie with his lust and getting him off with his body. He draws in a sharp breath as everything starts coming to a head, and all of his muscles contract, the remnants of his arms and legs cramping because he can‘t hold on to anything. Ozzie pulls him off nearly all the way, and then pulls him onto his cock again so hard that it pushes the breath straight out of Fizzarolli‘s lungs. He lets out a strangled cry as he comes all over the both of them, his body shaking violently as Ozzie fucks burst after burst out of him. At some point Ozzie has started to come too, and his cum is making Fizz’s body even more sensitive. Fizz can feel the way his climax comes back in full force after his cock spurts the second time, and he whimpers and whines and eventually screams with whatever strength he has left as he just keeps coming, his body completely in thrall to Ozzie‘s sublime nature.

When Ozzie finally stops moving, Fizzarolli feels like a wrung-out dishrag. He is soaked with sweat and his own jizz, the cramps have left his muscles throbbing and sore, and his ass feels as if he just fucking gave birth or something. Ozzie pulls his cock out of him, and a wave of hot, magic cum follows in its wake, dripping down along his tail in that way that always makes him feel like he needs to shake himself like a wet dog. Too bad he doesn‘t have the energy to do anything about that right now.

He shouldn‘t have been worried, though. Ozzie takes his after-care pretty seriously. He‘s still got Fizz in both of his hands, and now he starts to lick him clean from his chest down to his tail. The goat and the bull head are helping, though they are more tickling and nibbling than really cleaning him up properly. Of course Ozzie spends the most time at his hole, soothing his stretched-out rim with long, deep licks and gentle sucking before he finally licks the last remains of his cum off Fizz‘s tail. When he pulls away, Fizz strokes the tip of his tail over Ozzie‘s cheek and gets a little kiss on it in exchange.

When Ozzie finally puts him down, Fizz feels like he‘s about to fall asleep. He still feels sticky and sweaty, but his body has been so thoroughly used and his orgasm has hit him so hard that even keeping his eyes open feels like too much when the bed beneath him is so soft and Ozzie‘s body hovering over him, gently kissing his face, is so warm. He knows he should go have a shower, but even while he hears Ozzie suggest as much, his eyes fall shut and he sinks into comfortable, dreamless darkness.

When he wakes up hours later, his limbs are on his body again, and Ozzie is sleeping peacefully next to him.

Fizzarolli carefully disentangles himself from Ozzie and the blanket he has pulled over his body and grabs his cap from the side of the bed. He holds the bells still so they don’t make a sound as he walks out of the bedroom and through the hallway to the big bathroom. He could have used the ensuite, of course, but he needs some more walls between him and Ozzie - some more doors.

He puts his hat down on the counter and turns the hot water on in the shower. It takes him a moment to work the handle. His hands feel weird, like a computer that got rebooted and is now trying to deal with security upgrades.

His hips hurt. He knows it’s likely because of how strenuous the sex was, but he feels like they hurt from standing. Like something is wrong with the attachments of his legs. Like just being out of them for a few hours was enough to warp them, to make them incompatible with his body.

His arms feel so heavy, and his head feels so light.

He feels like he’s been put back together wrong.

It’s bullshit, of course. His arms and legs work as well as they always do, and the fit is also good. Ozzie designed these things, for fuck’s sake, he wouldn’t put them on wrong.

He steps into the steaming shower and closes the glass door behind him. For a while, he just stands there and lets the hot water wash away his sweat and anything that remains from Ozzie’s tongue bath. He’s used to water on his horns - he can’t really wear the hat in the shower, after all - but he wonders how it would feel on his stumps. He’s tempted to take off his legs again, to just sit on the shower floor, maybe until he drowns.

He’s being stupid. A stupid little bitch who gets hung up on harmless bullshit like this.

If Ozzie wants to have him that way, Fizz will give that to him, because Fizz is the luckiest motherfucker in hell because Ozzie wants him. Not just for a fling or a week or as a side piece or anything - he is living with him. They’re brushing their teeth at the same fucking sink. How could Fizz refuse Ozzie anything he wants?

He can’t. It’s that simple.

He belongs to Ozzie. Everything he has, everything he is - Ozzie gave him that. His job at the club, the robots, his limbs…

Of course Ozzie can fuck him however he wants.

It’s fine. He’s just being stupid. It’s just sex. He didn’t take his limbs away to humiliate him or to punish him. It’s fine.

He’s just being stupid.

He turns the water off and gets out, dries off as quickly as he can and puts his hat on. The bells jingle gently when he comes back into the bedroom and climbs into bed.

Ozzie wakes up just enough to reach out for him and pull him into a hug.

“Did you go wash up, baby?” he mumbles, still half-asleep.

“Yeah,” Fizz says, and rubs his face into his blue fluff. “Go back to sleep, Ozzie…”

#helluva boss fanfiction #asmodeus x fizzarolli #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss asmodeus #fizzarozzie #fizzmodeus #fanfic

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