#i just need to stick it out with this shit because bringing it up would only cause more problems
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We outside with a Bad Boy~ (Satan Attacker Prologue React Part I)
I would say *spoilers* but this card has been out for a minute now so lol
FINALLY, A BIH POSTED THIS
So let me first say, thank you all for sticking around and waiting patiently for my reacts to start up again. Now that I've been getting my sources from the lovely mooties and oomfs with the addition that there's some down time lately for content with PB so now I can hurry up and post some shit before they start hitting us with Belphegor and the next chapter which I assume will be all at once.
A simple two-parter! Grab yourself a smol snackie snack and let's gooo~
Belial bae <3
So today is a rare day for Gehenna where the devils don't need to fight any angels and instead, everyone's doing their part and cleaning up and little and the nobles are doing their part as well!
As you see Belial/Jjyu here telling everyone to take it easy because it's pretty much a "day off".
So Paimon is strong asf because he picked up a pile of rocks which turned out to be a damn wall lmao
Thank you Zagan my babes, <3 that is a wall and he shouldn't pick it up
But nah Paimon can pick my fat ass up with one hand and just hold me up if he can pick up a damn wall.
Lol look at Leraye....being cute as per usual and then we get Astaroth warning everyone to be careful what they wish for when it comes to chaos returning quickly to Gehenna. Like I'm with Ro here...because enjoy your day where you don't have to fight through flying debris, rubble, and having those nice ass homes destroyed in a blink of an eye because Gehenna is literally a fucking war zone 90% of the time.
But where there's down time...there's chaos somewhere....
AND that's when we pan over to MC in Satan's palace....btw his conference room looks so official like I love it for Satan.
But we've got our three kings here and they've showed up for some reason. It's funny that we get to see why...
First...MC was asking a question about what's going on in each country as to why they're there at the same time. Levi hit 'em with the "stay out of grown folks business" and I wanted to swing on him immediately because no one asked you to get snarky.
he tests my patience every day i swear
Beel is just speaking plainly but MC brought up a good point where he's never away for a moment his ass is ALWAYS gone lmao
Bael is throwing punches in the air rn if he could hear Beel say this, I know he is sick of him
Yes. That is mine. All of it. Bring it to me.
*Ahem* wait what were we doing? Oh right ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
So Mammon is just confident that his nobles are handling it well while he's gone. I mean in the first couple of chapters we see that it's clearly Eligos and Valefor holding down the fort since Bimet goes everywhere with him.
I love how Sitri is just always annoyed as hell when it comes to people gathering around MC like this. But I mean I don't blame him because why are all of them there?
So Beel just straight up says he came there to go on a date with MC (he's so cute I love him, where we going bae?) and then he proceeds to grab them by their waist (gawdddddd) and then he does his thing where he's sniffin' up on their clothes.
we know damn well he has money he just spends it too much lmao so the buying clothes thing would definitely happen
FORAS BBY HI :D
so he whisks MC over to Levi, and he apologizes for grabbing them so suddenly. like i feel we don't deserve Foras because he's so nice and soft and I just want to squish him.
So Levi wants MC to come to Hades for a serious test reason (as if Levi we're on to you) and Beel is like ah so you wanna go on a date too. (clocked him that's most likely why lmao) and Levi gets irriated but he doesn't hang him.
I have my own theory on why he makes empty threats with the kings, and it's mostly because he likes interacting with them and doesn't really want to hang them unless they really piss him off. So empty threats are his communication with them and that's why they all keep calling him "Levi" for short lmao
So Mammon comes up with his reasons for having MC, and he says he's happy to see everyone get along and wishes the other three were there (so yeah I would assume he gets along with all the kings since he wants to be around them) and he calls Bimet forward. So my boujie noble is here saying that since Mammon is a pacifist he just wants to pay everyone for allowing MC to come to Tartaros since the country is swimming in money and they can afford any price tag. Proceeds to then say low key everybody broke asf so don't even try.
Levi and Foras take that personally as you can see them being irritated. LMAO
Bimet is always gonna call someone a broke bitch it's a given.
Beel is so cute I swear because he literally does not care about what's going on with what the other kings said. As far as he's concerned MC is going on a date with him and everyone else has to wait their turn.
"That's fixed"
Damn right it is, like, you tell 'em Beel <3
Okay so Levi got some hands with this clapback because he said that with no remorse and with the quickness.
So imagine how tall Mammon is right, imagine that the room shook when he stood up like that and looked down at Levi.
He's smiling so he's not even being threatening he's just like :D hey Levi real quick...
So Mammon is basically telling him, that he needs to act correctly because MC belongs to Tartaros and therefore he needs to respect their wishes to come with him to spend the day together. Levi of course is irritated again because everyone keeps cockblocking him.
Look at this sneaky little devil, being all like "there's gonna be a war in this room so let's go" as if he didn't cause any of that by agitating Levi in the first place lmao (granted Mammon also has been blocking Levi too)
What's weird is that Mammon and Beel have been blocking Levi but Mammon hasn't really directed any of that energy toward Beel at all so it feels like a strange dogpile on Levi. But honestly it's tension all around this room to where MC is feeling a certain way about it and feels bad that they can't be in multiple places.
I love this banter so far between them because this is truly how they interact when it comes to claiming MC and it's going to be a real treat when the other kings start getting involved.
SO this ends part 1. See you all in part twooooooo <3
#whb#what in hell is bad#whb beelzebub#whb leviathan#whb mammon#whb screenshots#whb attacker cards#whb stories#spoilers?#satan's showing up next but ya'll knew that probably
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This isn't a kiss prompt but I didn't know who else to send it to. Given you're into fisting would you ever write urethral play? Rule 63 pretty please and ignore this if it's not your thing!!!! Thank you for your service 💋
anon i need you to know this is the most horrifically targeted ask in history and i am found out. called out. seen. it's taken me days to respond because i'm having conniptions. let's all never meet at the satanic ritual again if you sent this no you didn't if you read this no you didn't i absolutely definitely didn't write it.
this seemed to fit very perfectly to pussy exploring champion genders maxy. warnings for what this is and inevitably a bit of piss.
Luisa says no straight away, tells Lando to watch more normal porn. He looks suitably ashamed of himself but also directly at Max, who hasn't replied yet.
"Err," she's not. Well she's seen it, obviously, back in the Formula Renault days when everyone was trying to one-up each other about what they'd whacked one out to. But she doesn't think about that type of thing too often, now. Doesn't exactly need to.
"You are not," Luisa looks scandalised. "No way."
"I dunno," Max argues. "It's - well. It's interesting, maybe?"
Luisa makes a very disgusted sound, like she's about to call them both idiot boys but doesn't want to offend Max. "Not when I'm here. Could you get back to-" she gestures between her own legs - "now, please?"
It's something Max is beyond happy to do, especially when Lando slides up behind where she's bent over, sticks his dick in Max's pussy while her tongue's up Luisa's, fitting perfectly between them.
It's a few weeks later when the opportunity presents itself. Luisa's away, Lando's received a few suspiciously plain parcels, Max is feeling restless and horny but doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of riding his dick for a second time in a day. Bloke wins one race and thinks he's got free use or something.
Max might let him. One day. For a weekend or something. If he wins a championship. For now, though, she's curious about this.
When Lando pushes her back into the duvet, one of his hands behind her waist to maneuver her so she's settled nicely against the pillows, it feels like the right time to ask. To shimmy her legs around his, so she can hook her ankles behind his thighs and hold him there, just in case actually saying it makes either of them nervous.
In the end she can't quite get it out, anyway. "Do you want to try - putting something up. You know?"
"Fuck." Lando clearly wasn't expecting her to ask that, has to collapse on her a bit. "Fuck, really? Yeah - yeah, if you want to."
"If it's shit we can do something else, yeah?" Everything on PornHub was a bit rancid, Max is pretty sure she's not going to be doing any of that. But it's nice when Lando tongues her there, sometimes. Weirdly soothing, if her cunt's a bit achey from fucking.
Lando moans into her collarbone, kisses her under the ear before a breathy confession. "I'm glad it's you - I knew she wouldn't really be, y'know."
There's a thing, with them. That they do stuff together, sometimes and it's different from with Luisa. When they're all fucking it's great, so good but sometimes Max and Lando almost try stuff on, before they take it to her. Just to get the knack first, really.
"Better get, y'know. And a towel." Kicking him off the bed to go and find everything feels a bit mean but also fuck is Max going to do it herself. It gives her time to kick off her own shorts, leave her in a soft, comfy crop top Lando can see her nipples through, anyway.
When he gets back he drops some stuff on the bed, kneels back to take his own shirt off. It's a nice view, lot of abs and shoulders and Lando's tight, dark nipples. He's so built now and Max can't really bring herself to get jealous about it, with her own body to explore, these days.
Lando wastes no time in pushing her thighs apart, big hands spanning them. His thumbs are massaging the crease, spreading the outer lips of her pussy immediately and she can feel where she's wet with anticipation, the slide easy.
"Towel." She can't be bothered to do laundry after this, is pretty sure she'll want Lando to hold her.
He shakes his head like he's trying to snap himself out of something. "Right, yeah."
Lando picks one of her thighs up, props it on his own hip while he's dipping his fingers beneath her hips, rubbing them over Max's arsehole. "I'm gonna start here."
"Well it's not there." Surely he knows that?
"Nope." Lando looks smug and ashamed at the same time. "I wanna fuck you here."
It punches the air out of her, sometimes. The way Lando wants her, wants Max. He's got a bit of a thing for anal anyway but because they did this before, when Max was a boy, it always feels natural with them.
"Ok, yeah."
It's so nice, wet fingers playing over her and dipping inside, she almost forgets they're not just doing that this afternoon. Feeling stretched around Lando's fingers isn't as good as his cock but it gets her in a relaxing kind of mood, concentrating on making the tension leave her body, letting the anticipation build.
"Your arse is so good." It's a bit embarrassing how basic compliments still get her - of course her arse is great, Lando's lucky he gets to do it but appreciation is always nice.
"C'mon," she wants her clit touched, feeling wet and swollen.
Lando doesn't do that, although he takes his fingers out of her arse, carefully wipes them on the towel underneath her, then frowns and gets up to go and wash them in the sink.
For a minute, she thinks maybe it was messy and wants to die a bit, making a questioning noise when he gets back.
"No - just. Should be sterile, innit?" Oh, yeah. Max doesn't really want to be pissing blood any time soon. It's nice, that Lando cares this much about her. Makes it easy to part her legs, wide and prop them a bit like an uncomfortable doctors appointment, much easier with Lando's thumb rubbing over her clit.
He wriggles down on his belly, disappearing from her view and Max closes her eyes, tries not to think too much about the view he's got. Her arse, glistening with lube and still twitching a bit from the intrusion. Her pussy, puffed up with how turned on she is and sopping wet where he's spreading her open, looking inside.
It makes her gasp, when she feels that he can see it, from the sudden air. It almost makes her want to pee but then Lando's mouth is there, wet and as soothing as she remembered it.
The catch of the tip of his tongue over it makes Max blush. It feels very possible, suddenly, that something could go up there. When Lando sucks on it a bit, gentle and warm, she wants to relax it, pee in his mouth just a tiny bit and it's a weird, mortifying thought that drags a harsh noise out of her, shocked at herself.
The exhale makes her let go, just a tiny bit and then nearly try to scramble off the bed, if Lando hadn't been there to hold her down with his hands round her hips.
He looks at her, aggrieved and with a wet face. "You know I am trying to make you do that?"
"Oh." She'd sort of known - you can't get round piss being a bit involved, can you? But not in his mouth, maybe. Should've know Lando's a fucking freak.
"Relax, Maxy." She settles back and he dives back in, licking her all over for a few minutes before getting back to sucking over her peehole, soft and warm.
This time it's more deliberate, when she relaxes. It's not a lot, not even a dribble, really, just a few drops from her opening up for him.
Lando grunts in satisfaction, stops sucking to lick over her, dipping his tongue further into her pussy. It feels a bit urgent, suddenly, to get attention there or to piss properly.
"C'mon, do the thing."
"Yeah?" Lando sounds a bit gargly, like he is on team radio sometimes. "Can I put it in you?"
He sounds so hopeful Max forces herself to stay relaxed, not tense up with anticipation. "You can try. Y'know, with lube."
The sound Lando's got in his hand isn't big - probably the smallest he could order, with a safely rounded tip. Max is pretty sure that's her limit, isn't interested in anything that would stretch her out there, just something that will fit.
Lando sloshes so much lube it feels like her pussy is squelching and it takes him a moment to get a good enough grip to open her back up, with the forefinger and thumb of his left hand, while he's aiming.
Trying to relax, feeling the round tip of the sound against her, she feels the hot splash of some piss escape her and Lando uses all those F1 reaction times to push it forward, just inside.
It's. So weird. Nothing like her arse or her pussy, almost feels like she can feel it in her clit. Makes her wriggle down, get her legs further apart and-
"More." She sounds hoarse, embarrassed and Lando just hums like he's mesmerised, fucks the sound a little deeper.
She feels the moment when it's in, partly as relief that the ball part is past and only the smooth, silicone stick is being squeezed and partly as a rush of heat between her legs, leaking.
It must make her make a noise, although Max isn't sure she could've heard herself over the blood rushing through her ears. Still, Lando responds. "It's so hot. Fuck, Max, does it hurt?"
Sort of, would be her honest answer. It's not comfortable, at the same time as it feels incredible. Filthy, special, like she's going to come insanely hard as soon as Lando does anything else to her.
"Not really. Not, like, bad. I like it." It feels shocking admitting that, almost the same gut-punch as when she'd had to say the opposite about racing.
Lando tuts. "I'm going to-" he tugs on the sound, gentle. "Take it out. Want to get you off."
She doesn't have the words to say that'll probably do it. That she might come when he's pulling it slowly out. By some miracle, she doesn't because Lando's mouth is back there, suddenly. His right thumb, freed from holding the sound, is on her clit and she's definitely wetting, a little bit, when her thighs clamp around his head while she's shaking through it.
When she lets him go Lando drags himself up like he's just done a brutal workout. His face is red with heat or horny or both and his mouth is dripping, goatee soaked.
"Fuck, I'm not gonna be able to-" he's shoving his joggers off, cock springing free with a spider-web trail of precome to the fabric. "I'm - fuck, Max."
He's coming over her pussy, splattering her pubes, before he's even really got a hand on himself, fingertips loosely rubbing himself through it.
Lando moans, collapsing on the bed next to her. "I know we've got to - give me a minute."
She rolls over, pulls his face against her tits. "Thank you, buddy."
Lando makes a sort of affectionate noise, burrowing into her chest. "Can't believe - yeah, good. So good, actually."
He runs her a bath, when she gets up to pee. Sits behind her in it until they're both pruning and the water's getting cool, their bodies warmer than what's around them, pressed together.
#emptyhalf fic#sorry everyone who is waiting for kiss prompts i was distracted by being read for filth
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wHY must transphobia exist. im going to explode
#see on a logical level i know why#i mean i was RAISED in it so#but still#grrrrr#my classmate who i thought was cool brought up her trans lesbian friend as a fucking PRAYER REQUEST#i have never been more upset to sit through prayer man#and if that wasn’t enough#another classmate brought up demi lavato ‘turning’ non-binary as some kind of awful thing#like bro. i am right here. granted you have no idea that i am non-binary but. i am RIGHT HERE#fuck christian excuses for bigotry fuck using my religion to oppress my queer family fuck this stupid private christian school#sorry for venting in the tags i just need to tell someone. on break in class trying to remind myself that i have a right to be upset#i don’t need to sit quietly because i’m wrong#i just need to stick it out with this shit because bringing it up would only cause more problems#man#why can’t we all just love and accept queer people#why is it so fucking hard#i know it’s possible. my fucking church at home does it. my parents do it.#but SOME PEOPLE#hhhhhhhh im just upset#so so glad to be graduating soon so i can get the fuck out of here
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━━ ❝ the way of the househusband ❞
☾₊‧⁺...cw : househusband!fushiguro toji x fem!reader, you are megumi's mom, flirting, playful banter, just overall silly and cute domestic life
☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : just some simple lil toji hcs of him as a househusband! i need some sweet stuff of him without a lot of sexual stuff in it bc let's be real, in a domestic setting he's probably just a big clingy and mildly annoying bear husband
f. toji is never going to complain about being the one staying home, watching over the little gremlin that is megumi. he's got his own ways of bringing in money with that friend of his, shiu, but he's more than content to being the one in the frilly pink apron, cooking for you and the lil' man.
toji didn’t ever expect to get married, especially after how he was treated as a zenin. he didn't know much about love or how to connect with people, let alone you. but when you handed his ass to him with no struggle and a pretty smile on your face at the gym, he knew he wanted you. two years later and a shit load of aggressive flirting, toji ends up with you as his spouse and he wouldn't have it any other way.
so imagine toji's surprise when he's genuinely excited when you tell him your pregnant. he's excited but scared. him? a father? there's no way in hell he has any idea what to do, his own father was nothing but a piece of shit...so what if he turns out like him? but the moment you pop that big headed little fucker out of you, toji can't help but grin, that excitement of being a father and creating memories with this tiny little thing erasing all his fears.
whenever you come home from work, toji's usually in the living room with little megumi, who forced him to take part in the exercise part of his favorite kids show. you don't know how megumi, your one year old baby who still talked in little babbles, forced his massive giant of a father who could kill a man with a look to do 'exercise for baby,' but you know better than to question it when you see the two touching their toes in front of the tv.
sometimes, he's in the kitchen, however, wearing that 'kiss the cook' apron you got for his birthday. toji always wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss, muttering a 'welcome home’ against your lips before poking your side and going back to what he was doing, proud grin on his face at the little screech he gets from you.
he's started to get better at dodging your hands when you go to poke him back, skirting around the table before going to scoop megumi up. “you would never do such an act in front of 'gumi, would you? what if he starts going around poking girls in their sides, hm? then i'll have to explain to his teacher that his mama can't keep 'er hands to herself.”
toji's got you there...so you back off, opting to press a kiss to babygumi’s little forehead, taking him from your husband’s arms when he makes grabby hands at you. you savor the betrayed look on toji's face, sticking your tongue out at him. he scoffs, rolling his eyes before going back to make sure dinner wasn’t burnt. he’ll get you back for stealing his son from him.
despite what people might think, there’s not really a 'dominant' person in the relationship. when together, the two of you give off some of the most intimidating vibes because of the sheer power the both of you carry. it's not even put off by little megumi, because if he notices his parents looking at you in disgust, he's gonna give you one that's even worse.
toji will never forget the day the three of you went to the grocery store, him in his usual black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you in one of those same shirts and leggings with megumi in the kiddie seat in the shopping cart, eating from the little snack pack toji made for him. toji swears he walked away for three fucking seconds, and he came back to some...fucker getting ready to chat you up. it’s no surprise anyone that he gets pissed, ready to storm over there and make it clear you're taken.
however, it's clear you don't need him to step in, and damn, you look...really hot telling this dude off, angrily flashing your ring when he wouldn't back off. god, he wishes he could marry you again. toji doesn’t even know what you told the guy, and he's tempted to playfully ask megumi what happened, knowing his lil' man would try to respond in babbles and coos.
“he said you crawled out from the trash, toj, i can't stand for that! he could’ve done you some justice and said you crawled out of the deepest pits of hell, so I had to educate him on that. besides, he called you my boyfriend and I almost punched his face.”
“yeah? hm, i’m glad you didn’t, babe, we don’t want to get kicked out the store.”
“i don’t know, i think an imprint of my ring in his forehead would get the message across.”
“well, next time, how about we just kiss like we haven't seen each other in 15 years? not a fan of showing out to some dude, but i'd do it for you, sweetheart.”
“mmn!”
“right, lil' man? mama's so mean t' me, it's a good idea.”
“gumiiii, you're supposed to be on my side!”
occassionally, when you're at work, toji'll just talk to megumi, the little one nice and comfy on his chest.
one habit he'll never get out of is randomly calling you throughout the day when he's particularly bored and missing you. if you don't answer, toji will just leave you a message, usually about how badly he wants you to come home, groaning about how tired he is but he can't sleep without you in his arms, without you playing with his hair until he falls asleep. he's so in love with you, it's almost makes you dizzy.
you'll never forget the day you come home to toji and baby megumi in the front yard, crouched down around...something. parking in the driveway, you make your way over and see what they're looking at. it's...a kitten and a puppy, two tiny little things playfighting with each other. neither one of them say anything, just looking at the two creatures. you sigh, knowing exactly what this means.
"...give them appropriate names and make vet appointments. we aren't naming the dog 'hot dog' and we aren't naming the cat 'kitten'."
"i told you it would work, lil' man."
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen hcs#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro hcs#jjk hcs#jjk fluff#toji fluff#toji fushiguro fluff#🔪 ── toji.#𖤐 ── lxnarworks.
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If I had more money than I'd ever spend in a lifetime, I'd spend my life operating a pizzeria at a loss. Something with the slogan of "it ain't italian but you're hungry" - and a statement of how this is not authentic italian pizza because the owner's estranged aunt's italian ex-husband would not serve pizza in his italian restaurant because as far as he was concerned, a pizza is the "just throw that shit together" dish that you make out of leftovers, and he would not serve that to paying customers even if they wanted it. True story btw.
But I'd just like to run a place where the staff is allowed to tell rude customers to fuck off. And if they're scared to do that, they can summon me downstairs to do it myself (this fantasy involves having my own apartment upstairs of the restaurant), because you don't fucking disrespect my staff like that. Develop a reputation as a place where You'd Better Act Yourself or you get nothing, which elevates the quality of the food in peoples' minds because it's human to assume that more work=more worth, and if a pizza place can afford to simply throw rude customers out, that clearly must mean that the food is just that good that going back is worth it anyway.
Hiring enough people to get the work done in a leisurely pace and occasionally have the time to chat with each other or customers. You just do the job I gave you in the time I gave you, don't steal anything and don't watch porn off your phone anywhere where the customers can see you, you're good. Don't care if you quit school at 16 if you can still mop floor. Don't care if you've been to prison because you killed some guy, as long as you're not doing that here. Don't care if you deal drugs on your free time as long as you don't bring your business to your day job. This place is exclusively for pizza business.
Have an item on the menu called "random pizza" - and if you order that one, they'll just throw in a mix of whatever ingredients we've got too much of, like if the bell peppers gotta be used before they go bad, every single random pizza is going to have them until they're either gone or need to get tossed. If you've got dietary restrictions or allergies, you gotta specify that while ordering, because other than that, random pizza is just whatever ingredients we need to get rid of. Surplus ingredients du jour.
Building a reputation as a place that's somehow simultaneously sketchy as hell but also remarkably high quality, getting five star restaurant customer service from a waiter with blue hair and stick-n-poke tattoos, there's a homeless guy at the back of the kitchen eating an order that nobody picked up, every surface is spotless and no matter how important of a suit-and-tie you are, if you won't behave yourself the owner will personally physically fight you.
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A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺
nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth
c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda
it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to
they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that
simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…
“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer
simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads
“she’s so selfish.”
‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(
“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.
you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john
“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you
simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them
and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t
he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him
he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.
‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan
his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom
“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen
he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years
he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house
you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks
“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt
“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly
“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh
“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter
he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes
“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him
he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip
“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer
he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date
but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley
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˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗
pairing. theodore nott x reader
summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.
THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.
it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.
since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.
“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.
“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.
theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.
“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”
“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.
“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. “i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.
“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.
your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.
“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.
“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.
“go fuck yourself, riddle.”
it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.
“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.
“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.
“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.
“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.
IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.
the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.
what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.
he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.
it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.
people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.
quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.
“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.
a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”
“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”
“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”
the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.
of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.
he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.
“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.
“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”
“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.
“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.
he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.
“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.
“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.
“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#niki’s works 🫂#theo nott smut#theo nott rec#theo nott fic#theodore nott x oc#theo nott headcanons#theodore nott headcanons#theodore nott smut#theodore nott fic#theodore nott#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader
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random percy headcanons:
wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.
literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck
his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)
he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it
will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs
the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.
he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it
percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao
back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone
has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on
weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like
shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao
bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺
can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao
gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.
movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(
percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake
he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it
has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks
grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic
has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.
he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao
he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence
called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week
the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured
has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him
he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.
he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class
currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!
its his birthday<3
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Hiiii!!! See your doing writing requests for Hazbin, Its my hyperfixation so I am in need of more content 👀 so I'd like to request maybe Vox general or NSFW headcanon ( either one is good lol-) with a afab reader maybe? This is my first time requesting something like this so sorry if I'm a little nervous or bad at requesting. I think this is how people are supposed to request? XD
General Dating Headcanons | Vox
a/n: You're totally alright dear! You said everything just fine! As I've stated before, I got early access to the first two episodes, and it's been so interesting to analyze vox's character! I hope I can do him justice!! He's starting to grow on me now. I'm gonna stick with a gn!reader just because these are general headcanons and I want them to be suited for anyone!
fandom: Hazbin Hotel
wordcount: 1299
cw: SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL, swearing, vulgar content, stalking, death and mentions of death/murder., toxic/absuive relationships.
(PLATONIC):
Vox’s got eyes EVERYWHERE in hell. There is no escaping his line of sight unless you go completely off the grid. Which is pretty difficult to do when the entirety of pentagram city is covered head to toe in VoxTech.
However, if you don't pose a threat to him, he really doesn't give a shit about you otherwise, and won’t pay that much attention to your life.
When you first fell into hell, you were mostly confused as to how you wound up here in the first place. That quickly subsided into fear as you noticed the large variety of demons and sinners casually walking down the sidewalk like it was an average tuesday.
You’ll never forget the sight of seeing a demon gnaw off the arm of another and swallow it whole, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
You wander aimlessly down the streets, keeping to yourself and being very cautious of those around you. Your clothes were in tatters, and you didn't have any form of money whatsoever, what were you to do??
You had two options: Somehow find a job in this new horrific realm, or, die.
You didn't care too much for the latter.
This is how you stumble across one of the largest studios/clubs in hell, owned by probably the most feared overlords in pentagram city. The V’s.
You get hired to be nothing more than a waiter/waitress, to serve the patrons of the club, mostly serving them their drinks.
You weren't too fond of the work uniform either. It left nothing to the imagination, and exposed alot of skin, far too much to your liking. The job actually paid somewhat decently though and it was enough to be able to sustain a living. You were quick to rent out the nearest apartment.
One day, while you’re out on the main floor, making your rounds, your eyes briefly lock with the TV demon across a sea of sinners. Call it cheesy, but it was almost like a spark went off the moment he laid eyes on you. Which is something that doesn't happen often with the tech-savvy overlord. Who were you??
He lazily beckons you over with a claw, to which you obediently follow, although it doesn't hide the sheer nervousness written all over your face, He gives you his drink order in that sultry, velvet voice of his, eyeing you up. You gulp slightly and are quick to bring him his order. He thought you were so cute trembling for him.
He begins to stalk observe you closer after that. If you have any electronic devices he’ll watch you through your screens, trying to get a glimpse into what your life was like outside of work. The things you enjoyed doing in your free time, favorite shows, foods etc.
He def goes through your search history.
He would start showing up more in the sections you worked at, oftentimes minding his business, but occasionally striking up a conversation with you.
You did have to admit he was quite the charmer, his smooth voice was hypnotic to you.
OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. If he notices some creep won't leave you alone while you're working, he’ll take care of them personally, it’s never a pretty sight afterwards. He cant have anyone taking what's his.
You're oblivious to his stalking and possessiveness, you don't think much of it, maybe that's because he puts on a friendly face when you’re around him.
But after some time of getting to know you, He’s the one that eventually asks you out on a “date”. You’re skeptical at first, but decide to accept his offer. And also partially because you were afraid of what would happen if you said no.
(ROMANTIC):
Ngl it’s kind of a situationship in the beginning.
Vox is a busy man, it’s constant work maintaining the studios (especially valentinos temper) and managing the entirety of hell's technology. So, he may ghost you at first.
That being said, He will still keep an eye on you. He often watches through your phone while you sleep, just to make sure you’re safe. Hell is a dangerous place after all.
Speaking of, you’re now under the protection of the V’s, so that’s a plus! You never have to worry about another demon laying a finger on you. They usually never get close enough to anyways.
He very easily gets jealous. He won't show it on the outside because he has an image to uphold, but you can tell every time from that crazed look in his eyes.
Vox is a possessive lover; he wants to keep you all to himself. If he could, he’d keep you locked up by his side all day.
CONTROLLING. He HAS to know where you’re at, at all times, and who you’re going to be with (lest you face one of his tantrums). Also dictates what you wear, He likes to dress you up to his liking, like you’re his own personal doll.
Insecure much?
Say goodbye to privacy btw. He constantly has you in the back of his mind and a watchful eye on you. It can be kind of suffocating at times. The two of you have gotten into a few arguments because of this.
Valentino gets jealous of you too. How dare you take his boy-toy away from him? He’s often giving you the stink eye and will threaten you behind vox’s back. You’re too scared to tell Vox, because you don't want to face Val’s wrath.
You know briefly of his and Val’s “relationship” it all had seemed very one-sided and completely unhealthy.
You're often having to calm Vox down. The man has a very short temper and is easily provoked.
Imagine you pressing little kisses to his screen after he found out about Alastor’s return. He remains stoic, but secretly enjoys your affection.
Some of the pet names he loves to call you include; Doll, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe.
Pretty old-fashioned ik, but he's a classy man alright?
He tends to be pretty touchy, always having a clawed hand on the small of your back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. It’s more of a possessive trait of his, to keep what's his close.
He loves having you sprawled on his lap while he’s in his screen room, you stay nuzzled into his side, often taking naps while he does broadcasts.
He TOTALLY spoils you btw. He’s one of the most powerful overlords in hell, ofc he has the money to show it. Whatever dingy apartment you had before, forget about it bc this man has you living in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive apartment buildings. He sees you looking at something in a store or online?? Boom, it’s yours now.
He loves buying you clothes, as I’ve said before, you're his “doll” and he loves playing dress up with you.
And if you buy him something?? He’s taken by surprise at first, he’s never really been on the receiving end of that affection, so whatever it is you give him he’ll cherish it.
If you ever have someone bothering you, or want to get rid of, you just say the word babe. He’ll be feeding them to his sharks >:)
The man is emotionally constipated, ok?? All he’s ever known from relationships is what he shared with Val (and trust me that was a train wreck). He’s rough around the edges, short-tempered and isn't always easy to get along with, and he’s incredibly possessive which can be suffocating to deal with at times. This probably stems from him not wanting to actually be alone, He doesn't want you to slip out of his grasp, so he keeps a tight leash on you. But underneath all these flaws, he really does love you and care about you. At the end of the day, He just wants someone that will stay.
#hazbinhotel#hazbinhotelxreader#xreader#gender neutral reader#vox x reader#vox#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin x reader#headcanons#dating headcanons#hazbin hotel vox x reader#hazbin
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The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It
Summary: You've fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you're flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn't realize that immediately.
Warnings: Language, no y/n, female reader, reader has a callsign (Honey)
Thank you to @dissonannce for this amazing idea. Thank you @acewritesfics for the dividers!
"Your hands are so big."
It took Bob a moment to register that you were in fact, talking to him.
"Oh! Um yeah. My ma made me do piano because she felt I was given the hands for them," Bob wiggled his fingers for extra effect, "Y'know, since they're so long."
Yes, they were quite long. It was one of the first things you noticed about Bob. Well, after you noticed his beautiful blue eyes, his endearing lopsided smile, the way he was so considerate of everyone else, so gentle, and yet there was an underlying confidence about him. He was sure of himself, but he didn't feel the need to brag.
Who could blame you for falling head over heels for him?
You flashed him a smile, hand reaching towards his.
"It's just, your hand is so much bigger than mine. See?" You propped his arm up, allowing your palm to press against his, both your fingers spread out to showcase the difference in size.
"See? My hand is so small compared to yours," You giggled. Bob looked down at your hands. Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching, dying to entwine with his.
"Yeah, there is quite a difference in size," Bob said, giving you that small smile you adored so much. That smile gave you the confidence to entwine your fingers with his.
"I think they fit pretty well together, see?" He wasn't letting go. He was still smiling as he looked down at your hand holding his.
Maybe this was finally it, he'd finally realized that you liked him and would-
"I'm gonna go get some more peanuts, can I get ya anything?"
You mustered up a smile, trying to cover up your disappointment, "I'll take a water. Thanks Robby."
As soon as he left, you shot Jake a dirty look, "Seresin, you said that shit would work!"
Jake, who had been pretending to play a game of pool with Bradley, Javy, and Mickey, put his hands up in defense, "Because it usually does! Everyone knows when a girl compares hand sizes it means she wants you!"
"Everyone but Bob apparently," Javy muttered.
"Maybe you just need to be more obvious?" Mickey suggested.
You sighed. You knew Bob. The last thing you wanted was to be so blunt it would overwhelm him. But at the same time, you two had been doing this whole 'friends but also more than that and I'm pretty sure we're flirting?' for the last month and you were getting annoyed with it how seemed to be going nowhere.
Perhaps Mickey was right. You were going to have to be a bit more obvious.
"Bee? You ready?" Bob called out from your living room. Bob's nickname of your callsign (Honey) always brought a smile to your face, as well as heat to your cheeks.
"Almost! Can I get your thoughts on this top?" You asked as you walked in.
"Yeah, I'm sure you look-oh." Bob's eyes widened as he took in the green top you were wearing.
It was tighter than the shirts you normally wore, highlighting your breasts. The fabric stopped right at the end of your rib cage, showing off your stomach and bringing attention to your high waisted jeans, which according to Jake "did wonders for your ass".
"What do you think?" You clasped your hands together, the action causing your breasts to stick out even further.
"Um the uh, the color is really great on you. B-brings out your eyes," Bob said, his eyes looking everywhere except you.
With the way his cheeks were bright red, it gave you confidence to step forward, your body now inches away from his, "I was hoping it would bring out something else besides my eyes Robby."
"I mean you you look great in everything you wear! So mission accomplished," Bob said quickly, his hands fidgeting with his car keys.
"Anything else you want to say about the outfit Robby? I really value your opinion." You stood on the tips of your toes, bringing your chest closer to Bob's face.
It was the first time since you walked in that his eyes landed on your chest. He cleared his throat, as if he was gathering up the courage to say it.
"You should grab a jacket, it's supposed to go down to the low sixties tonight," He said, turning around to head out the door.
God damn it.
You grabbed your phone, quickly texting the group.
Honey: We need to go to Plan C.
Rooster: Plan C?! You're saying the top didn't work?
Bagman: Dude, your tits were like out.
Rooster: Maybe they weren't out enough?
Coyote: If they were out any more, Honey would be getting a public indecency charge.
Phoenix: Maybe we shouldn't use clothes to express our feelings? Just a thought 🤦🏽
Fanboy: Yeah Nat, that's plan C.
Payback: Can we not blow up the group chat tonight? The finale of Insecure is on.
Your right leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation, your eyes never leaving the entrance to the Hard Deck.
"You don't think this is too much, is it?" You asked your friends/coworkers.
"Nah, it'll be perfect!" Mickey reassured you.
"You and Bob are going to walk out of here holding hands by the end of the night, guarantee it," Jake commented as he lined up the balls for a round of pool.
It took all your strength not to jump out of your seat when you saw Bob walk in. His iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, landing on you. He always seemed to search for you, which had to be a sign that he wanted more, that he felt the same way as you did.
You greeted him with a smile, patting the empty seat next to him.
"Hey Robby! I got something for you!" You called out.
Bob just smiled as he sat down, "I see you got my signature: water and peanuts. Thanks Bee!"
You giggled, shaking your head, "Yes, but that's not just it. These are for you!"
Bob stared at the bouquet of flowers you were holding out for him.
"For me? These are for me?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers.
"Yes! I was just thinking, like why is giving guys flowers not a thing? Because it totally should be! And no one deserves these flowers more than you Robby," You explained, a hopeful smile adorning your face.
Bob gently took the bouquet, admiring each flower.
"I thought they would go well with your eyes-that's why a most of them are yellow," you explained, trying to hide how nervous you were.
"These are perfect," Bob said before leaning down to smell the flowers.
"Really? Each flower has a different meaning," you began, hoping that by fidgeting with your hands, you'd be able to conceal your nerves.
Bob simply smiled, his face the epitome of saccharine, "Oh, I already know."
Your breath hitched, "You do?"
Bob nodded, "Oh yeah! Alstroemerias symbolize support, sunflowers are for loyalty, and violets stand for intuition!"
He wasn't wrong. You couldn't tell if you were upset by that or the fact that Mickey forgot flowers can have more than one meaning.
Time for Plan D.
"Hey Robby! You ready to watch hot people make poor decisions?"
"Ready as I'll ever-that's new," Bob said softly, taking in the new loungewear you had on for your biweekly Love Island watch.
"Oh this? I think I got it last week," you said as you let Bob into your apartment, "It's super comfy and it has pockets!"
It also was cut low, showing off your cleavage, as well as the tops of your thigh.
"Yeah, the uh, color looks really good on you Bee," Bob commented. The compliment brought a smile to your face. He noticed you, noticed you were wearing something new, and seemed to be noticing your now exposed skin.
"Well, let's go see if these folks gain any common sense," you grabbed his hand, practically beaming at how your hand fit perfectly in his.
"Somehow I doubt it," Bob chuckled.
When he offered to hold the popcorn for while you two watched, you weren't disappointed. Sure, it meant you weren't able to hold his hand. But it did mean you could move closer to him, your thighs practically touching.
"I really hope he doesn't take her back," Bob muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.
"He will. They always do," you sighed, gently moving your head so it rested against one of his broad shoulders.
If your action had any effect on Bob, he didn't show it. Which was the problem.
"I would pick you in the recoupling," You revealed, hoping that would be enough, would finally be enough.
Bob smiled, placing a hand on your knee, "That's kind of you Bee. But I think friendship couples go against the nature of the show."
It took everything in you not to scream.
The rest of the night was just a typical Love Island watch night, no touching, no initiating, no declarations of love, and ending with Bob giving you a friendly hug goodbye.
With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed to check your messages.
Bagman: Bee, please tell us it worked and you're marking sweet love to baby on board
Phoenix: you're disgusting Seresin.
Rooster: why would they stop fucking just to text you Bagman?
Bagman: so we can pop some champagne to celebrate
Fanboy: Why the fuck is would we do that?
Coyote: It's a big event! Bee told Bob how she feels AND Bob's getting laid!
Payback: Can I just get one night of peace? Just one night?
You: No one's doing anything bc it didn't work!
Rooster: Not trying to be rude, but weren't you like almost naked?
Bagman: Like 52% nude.
Phoenix: JFC, we're going to plan E folks.
Coyote: Is that when we just lock them in a closet?
Bagman: No that's plan G
"Hey Bee!"
The cheerful, charming voice always brought a smile to your face.
"Hi Robby!" You greeted him with a hug, the comforting scent of rosemary filling your nostrils, "You smell really nice."
"Oh um thanks," A hand flew to the back of Bob's neck, a nervous (and also adorable) habit, "Wanted to smell nice after doing all those pushups out in the sun."
"Well it worked, you smell great," One of your hands reached up to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that had curled at the end, "Look great too."
The tops of Bob's cheeks were now a dusty pink, "It's just a white Tshirt."
You took a step forward, placing your hands on his chest, "It's a good look Robby. Shows off your muscles. I like it on you.
Bob's lips parted, then promptly closed.
"Uh, t-thanks Bee." He had to know now that you were flirting with him. It was clear as day.
Feeling confident, your hands trailed down to his, grasping them, "We should dance!"
You didn't wait for Bob to answer, dragging him out to the middle of the floor. The sounds of Bradley covering Frankie Valli (begrudgingly, as apparently Jerry Lee Lewis was better) filled the bar.
After a few minutes, Bob's shoulders visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. You threw your head back laughing as he bust out a goofy dance move.
Everyone thought Bob was shy, but that wasn't the case. He was observant, determined to get a good read on someone so he knew how to approach the situation accordingly. Once he was comfortable, his personality shined and he was a sweet, goofy man who you adored with all your heart.
The grin you had was so wide, your cheeks were beginning to hurt. But you couldn't stop, not when he was twirling you around.
"Where did you learn to dance like that?" You asked, having to say it into his ear so he could hear your voice above the music.
Bob shrugged, "I come from a big family. When you know you're going to a lot of weddings, knowing how to dance helps. That and my mom made me do cotillion."
"Well, all that practice paid off. You're a great dance partner Robby." You rested your chin against his broad chest, looking up to meet eyes bluer than the ocean.
In that moment, all you could do was focus on him. The way the corner of his eyes creased when he truly smiled, his comforting scent, his pink, thin lips that you were dying to feel on yours.
You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, if he could feel it since your body was practically on his.
His hands found their way to your arms, gently placing themselves on your biceps. Was this it? It had to be.
So you stood on the tips of your toes, your lips now closer to his. Your eyes began to close as you leaned in to-
"I gotta go. Jake stuck his foot in his mouth again."
This wasn't a lie. But it still didn't dull your disappointment. Nor did it sedate your growing frustration at this whole situation.
Perhaps you didn't need Plan G or H Perhaps it was time to go with your original plan.
The next time you saw Bob was when Nat threw a small get together to celebrate the end of a long week.
He was wearing that damn white Tshirt again. Whenever he brought his cup of water to his mouth, the fabric stretched across his bicep.
Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? Consciously or not, that you had fallen for him ever since you two first met at training?
Either way, you were tired of this game you had been playing for the past month.
"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.
You simply nodded before taking a shot of vodka. A little liquid courage was always nice.
"Nat, he's oblivious. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this the first time," Jake commented as he took the shot glass out of your hand.
"Because we didn't expect him to be that oblivious," Mickey countered.
"Well everyone, wish me luck." You walked out of the kitchen to find Bob still sitting on the couch, glass of water in hand.
His eyes met yours and he gave you a smile sweeter than honey. Your legs began to wobble, whether it was from that smile or your nerves, you couldn't say.
You walked over, making a beeline for him. Bob's eyes widened, his fingers gripping his cup. Your gaze was so intense.
"Hey Bee-oh!" Bob froze as you sat down in his lap, your thighs straddling his lithe hips.
"Hey Robby," your hands found his shoulders, fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.
"Uh Bee, there's um, there's a seat right there," Bob weakly pointed to the empty space next to him.
"I don't want that," you leaned forward, your forehead grazing his, "I want you Robby."
His eyes widened once more, as if he just saw an incoming train, "M-me?"
"Yes. Wanted you ever since that first day of training, when you offered me a mint," you told him.
"I uh, you looked sleepy and mint is known to wake you up and," Bob paused, "Did you say since the first day of training?"
You nodded, smiling at how you were able to see him process this information.
"The first day of training?" He repeated.
"Yes Bob, all you did was offer me a mint and smile to make me fall head over heels for ya," your fingers now went up to the back of his neck, twirling the curled ends of his hair, "Been trying to tell you that for the last month."
Bob opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brain still processing everything.
"You good Rob-" You never got to finish your sentence, as Bob decided right then was the best time to press his lips against yours.
His lips were soft and tasted faintly of vanilla, no doubt from the chapstick you watched him reapply. His touch was gentle, his thick fingers ghosting over your thighs, trailing up to your waist. Every move, no matter how small, made your heart fluttered.
Being so close to him, you could smell his aftershave, a mix of eucalyptus and sage. It was intoxicating and you wanted to be surrounded by it all the time, wanted to kiss him all the time.
When he broke away for air, you had to hold back a whimper, your lips desperate for more.
"FINALLY!"
You turned your head to find Bradley, along with Mickey, Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Reuben standing by the doorframe, in perfect view of you and Bob.
You smiled and opened your mouth, ready to make a quick remark. But Bob's fingers hooked underneath your chin, turning your head back to meet his lips again.
Unlike the first kiss, this one was bolder. His lips moved against yours with more confidence. Your whole body felt warm, as if you were floating. His hands now cupped your jawline, which is how you learned that Bob's hands practically covered your whole neck, a discovery that sent you reeling.
Your hands trailed up to his head, desperate to feel his sun kissed locks, desperate to find out if they were as soft as they looked. But just before you could, Bob broke away.
"What?" Anxiety came rushing back, dragging you away from Cloud Nine, your previous location. Did he regret it?
"Let's go."
He moved your body to the empty space on the couch, quickly getting up. You took his hands, allowing him to help you get up. You held onto one hand as he led you to the front door.
"Bob! What are you doing with my backseater?" Javy called out.
"Making up for lost time!"
Maybe you should be a little embarrassed. But how could you? You had finally kissed the man of your dreams, he kissed you back. He wanted to leave with you.
The sounds of the house party fainted, becoming soft background noise as you went outside.
Bob stopped, turning around to face you. Before you could get out a sound, his lips were on you again. His hands pulled your body to his, closing the gap in-between.
You couldn't help but moan when you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip, immediately granting him entrance. You could hear Bob's breath hitch, his hands roaming across your body, touching your soft skin.
Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you desperate for more.
"Why do you keep doing that?!"
"I...." His face was flushed, "I meant to ask you if if you drove yourself here. But you looked so kissable. You still do, God I just wanna kiss you again."
"I'm not stopping you Robby," you grinned, stepping towards him, "I'm not stopping you at all."
"Oh don't tell me that darlin'" his Midwestern upbringing laced his words. You always loved his accent, having found it not just unique but also comforting.
Somehow, despite his lips pressed against yours, Bob was able to walk you back to his car, your back meeting the cool metal.
His broad body draped over yours, his tongue frantically exploring your mouth. Your fingers reached up, grasping his hair. It was soft and much thicker than you expected.
What else was there about Bob you had yet to learn? What kind of toothpaste he used, if he drank tea or coffee in the morning. Did he fall asleep to rain sounds or silence? How many pillows were on his bed?
You wanted to know everything.
But right now, you just wanted to kiss Bob.
Your fingers tugged on his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. Despite his chest being pressed against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted all of him.
"We should get in the car," He said, voice breathless. With the way his chest was rising, one would think he had just ran ten miles.
Bob began moving towards the driver's side of his truck, but he stopped, turning back to you.
"I want to take you home," He stated. It sounded like a confession with the way guilt laced his eyes.
"I would love that Robby."
Instead, he just shook his head, "But I shouldn't because you deserve more than that. You deserve a nice date, like that Italian restaurant we always pass when we go to Bradley's. You deserve that and flowers and a lovely dinner with candles and wine that's older than both of us-"
You cut him off by gently pecking his lips, "It's okay Bob. You could take me to that diner up the room from your place tomorrow morning and I'd be elated because I would be with you."
He shook his head, clearly torn between continuing to talk and continuing to kiss you, "But....it's the least I should do. I mean, after all the hints you were dropping. I thought you were just being friendly and-"
"What friend asks another friend to look at their chest?" You asked incredulously.
"I thought maybe we were just really close! That you were really comfortable around me, which is why I didn't think anything regarding what you wore when we watched Love Island. I mean," his face reddened, "I did think about it. Um I thought about it a lot and if you ever want to wear it again, I would not mind-"
"Bob," you stepped forward, placing your hands on his chest.
"I mean, you got me Violets! Those mean loyalty and devotion, as well as delicate love! And believe me I wanted to kiss you at the Hard Deck, but that is entirely Jake's fault-"
"As most things are."
"And looking back it was so obvious and I can't believe I didn't pick up on it," He paused, "Sorry, I I had to get that out. I can take you home or back to my place, whatever you want."
You giggled, delighted by his ramblings. You wanted to hear more of it.
"And now I just want to kiss you. Like all the time," He confessed, his lips moving closer to yours.
"Robby, get in the car," you instructed.
"Oh, um, okay," Bob unlocked his car, moving towards the driver seat.
"No Bob. Get in the back of the car," you instructed.
Bob's brows knitted together in confusion, "But then how will I drive-oh!"
Who knows if you were going to make it back to his place or yours. All you cared about was getting your lips and hands back on Bob Floyd.
#my writing#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd x you#robert bob floyd x reader#robert bob floyd#robert bob floyd fluff#bob floyd fic#robert bob floyd fic#bob top gun#top gun bob#top gun maverick fanfiction#tgm fanfiction#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x you#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd
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i absolutely need suna x reader having secret sex while the miya twins are a room across🫣
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
You had no real attraction to Suna, but it was just one of those nights where your brothers came home after a game, bringing his friends along with him to celebrate, and to avoid sitting in their sweat, they had to shower. Thank god you took yours before the boys made it. Being the last to shower when the floor is wet and it’s steamy already is literally the worst shit ever.
The problem was, Suna never really came over; therefore, he had no real way to know which room was your brothers’.
He had specific instructions to shower and take some clothes from his room. Looking back on it, he should’ve asked which door it is, but strutting back with nothing but a towel on his waist is not an option. So, he resorts to opening every door until he finds what he would think is the room of his teammate. Or rather…either of them?
Instead, the knob twists as you’re fully bent over in your walk-in closet, digging through a basket of clean clothes for a t-shirt. Of course it had to be the second you wanted to change when he walked in, and not when you were comfortably reading in bed with a little light on earlier. There’s no bra on your chest now, just a pair of navy blue lace panties.
Hey! On the bright side: they could’ve been cotton with “kiss my ass” stamped on the back.
Your arms draw up in an effort to hide your chest when you hear the twist of the knob and the door come flying open. Key word is effort, because now your breasts are pressed up against each other, which Suna believes is ten times worse for you than the position he found you in. At least when you were bent over, he had to imagine whatever he couldn’t see.
“Holy— shit!” you exclaim, eyeing the man at your door that’s actively dripping water on your carpet. His hair is fallen and sticking to his face messily, just enough for you to spot his slim eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first.
It’s mainly just him blinking blankly at you while you panic, searching the room for literally anything to provide some decency, but once you render the clear lack of any emotion you currently possessed in his body, it calms your nerves a bit.
He’s seen a woman before. It doesn’t make him any less prone to being attracted to puffy lips and nipples only covered by an arm, but it somehow soothes you to know he won’t make a big deal out of it and maybe not even mention it to your siblings.
Eventually, you throw on the nearest shirt over your head and pull your hair through, dirty or clean, still with no pants to match.
You sigh deeply, “What is it Suna?” It comes out in an irritated grunt.
“You know my name.” His eyebrows raise with surprise, but not as high as the average person’s would.
“Yeah, I do. Is there a reason you’re still here?”
He presses on: “How do you know it? Do they talk about me a lot?”
Your head drops in your palm to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this right now,” he overhears your mumble.
“My bad, I was looking for Tsumu’s room but got jumpscared instead.”
Despite saying this, he still stands in the doorway— not with it cracked, but with it wide fucking open— and it’s then when creaks from the stairs clears the air between you two. He doesn’t move, but you quickly shove him over to peek around the corner, then drag him into your bedroom before whoever it is gets the wrong idea by the view from the hallway.
While you’re turned after throwing him mindlessly into your room, he readjusts the falling towel around his waist. What he said finally hits you a few moments too late.
“Jumpscared?! You? I’m in the comfort of my own room when you barge in with nothing on!” Your hands gesture up and down his body as you scold him. “And don’t talk about my body like that!” Only he doesn’t really look at your eyes. When you’re done, he finds your attention.
“It was really an accident, but I’ll stay until whoever goes back downstairs,” he shrugs. “And why does it smell like sex in here?”
Your cheeks redden. There was a reason you were looking for a change of clothes. “It doesn’t.”
“Yeah, it does.” He flops back onto the bed carelessly, dipping your comforter.
“Stop! You’re getting my sheets wet.” His body has only slightly dried, but with the full head of hair he has, it hasn’t dried at all. “Suna, get up.”
“They probably already are.”
He closes his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. His stature was not what you thought it’d be. He was tall and packed with muscle in his legs. You could tell that much by the pictures if you didn’t figure it out by the fact that when he’s sitting you’re still face to face, but on top of that, his abdomen was carved and his arms carried some weight too. Nothing compared to the sheer size of his thighs though; they had to be the size of your head. Just by photos he’s an average high school athlete, so it almost appears fake.
Unfortunately, as you were looking, his eyes had opened and he’d been watching you inspect him. Suna will always preach there are benefits to being as quiet as he is, like how he can pinpoint that your fingers come to pinch the edge of your shirt.
You clear your throat in hopes it will gather your thoughts too, then rectify his past statement. “They aren’t.”
“Right… like all the red tabs in this book are for nothing?” He reaches beside him to take it in his hands, then he flips through the pages quickly until he comes across one. “‘I run my fingers down her trembling thighs that yearn for my touch. You’ll take it like a—’”
Before he can finish what you remember is very unfortunately highlighted, you crawl over him to rip it out his hands and throw it. You chuck the literature nowhere in particular with embarrassment that can’t get any higher as he laughs, then you quickly retreat with a knee up on the edge of the bed. His laughter is a sweet sound. It makes sense why he’s friends with your brothers.
You don’t even notice you’re half-straddling him while you point your finger in his face. “What I read is none of your business.”
He spoke clearly and assertively when he read, and the last thing you need him figuring out was how bad your body desired he’d read the words to you again; he was already too observant.
“Of course. Forgive me for saying such vulgar things around my friend’s sister. She would never do such a thing.” Finally, he slowly sits up, which naturally makes you rise with him, so you place your hand on his shoulder to prevent from wobbling. Your thigh is beside his with your foot unstable on the floor. “She’s just so sweet and innocent, and definitely not up here alone reading book porn.”
Your breathing picks up at the proximity and the pressure of a question you can’t avoid. You search between both his eyes that do the same to you. He deserves a medal or something, because fuck— the shirt lifts just a little bit every time you fiddle with it and the lace sticks to your skin like glue. “I— uhm,” you stutter, removing your stability from his body and backing away from the bed.
Of course, to add to the fucking embarrassment, you stumble backward, but he reaches out to you. His hand firmly wraps around your wrist and the other is hooked behind your back when he jerks you back up to him. He only releases your wrist.
“Is that all you read?”
You shake your head. “I read regular romance and fantasy too.”
He nods, “Ah, I see. So you want the prince of a faraway land to twirl you around in his field of flowers saying how much he loves you, then you want him to make you beg to come?”
Your eyes shoot wide at the comment, only stretching the lazy smirk on his face.
“N-no,” you reply, even though that does sound extremely appealing.
“But you do want someone to ‘run their fingers down your trembling thighs’ though, right?”
To emphasize his point, he lets the knuckles of his hand trickle down the back of your thigh, just barely grazing the skin. The sensation shocks you and almost sends you forward. This can’t be happening. Actually, you pray it isn’t, so your eyelids slam shut.
This prompts his other hand to pinch either side of your jaw gently and drag your face to his. “Or lay you back and tell you to take it like a good girl.” His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, then back up, noting the state of disbelief your countenance holds. He flattens the hand that stops just under your ass.
You almost melt in his hold, and this he knows because of the long breath you took after his words. It’s easy to infer you’re fairly untouched by not only your responses but how receptive you were. It was you two, only about an inch from each other now, waiting to see who would make the next move and risk something far worse than just a growing attraction. The twins flash in your head as a beat passes and you swallow.
“Yes. But that has nothing to do with you.”
Suna shines a smile with his teeth. “Your thighs are rubbing together.”
You look him up and down. “So?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
You don’t look him in the eyes, they drop to your pillows. Before you can separate the thighs in question that are only disconnected by his fingertips, he nudges you forward onto him, bringing your hands back to his shoulders. You’re completely straddling while attempting to keep your eyes locked on his when his entire torso is on display. He leans forward to speak just above a whisper in your ear as if this is a normal occurrence.
“I can feel you dripping all over my hand.” The cool of his breath tickles your neck, only worsening as he continues. “Why is that?”
You’re at a loss for words at first, but you suck it up, holding your own. “Nothing to do with you. Maybe I went too hard earlier.”
He wholeheartedly chuckles at this response. “So you admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That you were up here fucking yourself to your book?” His voice is an echo behind you since he’d decided to rest his chin comfortably on your shoulder.
“Yeah. Yeah— I guess I do. It’s not like you didn’t come in here and figure it out yourself,” your eyes roll.
“Which part were you reading?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
There’s a moment of silence. “She’d just decided to drop her toxic ex-boyfriend and his sister came to console her. The way she did it was kind of fucked up, and I think the slow burn is what made me look past it, but anyway— she brings her to a party, the boy she meets there happens to be the barista at the place she orders from every day, and he has a history with the main character’s ex. He hates him even though he’d gotten over it as years passed, but she really wants to get back at him, so they send an anonymous short video of them, um… together, and he gets really pissed off.”
Suna is quiet as he reviews what you just said. He admires your perception of the book and the passion to read. He goes, “You’re into that?” and then it’s your turn not to say anything, even with the amusement lacing his tone. You grow fidgety, and just when you don’t think any more words will be exchanged, he suddenly demands, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That. What you just did.” You shifted your weight from leg to leg as the silence grew longer. Just to see, you do it again.
“You’re grinding against me when you do that by the way.”
You giggle maliciously, continuing to go back and forth. It’s payback for teasing you the entire time. He comes to hold your hips still to prevent further movements, but in protest, you create an arch in your back to actually roll your hips down instead, ensuring he felt it.
“Okay, really, unless you want to move like that with my cock nine inches inside of you, I suggest you choose your battles now.”
You finally halt at the words because he was dead serious. He feels scratching along his shoulder blades at your fingers curling up in response, but not removing yourself. He still rests his head beside yours. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re into that too?”
So that’s how he ended up with his back to your headboard, head tipped up, looking at you through his pretty eyelashes as you wrap your hand around his slick length and reposition it to line up. You lower your body down, allowing your walls to open up for him. The stretch hurts only a little just because he’s so big.
You hadn’t kissed him the entire time, so he groans desperately when you wrap your fingers tightly around his neck and come close. He allows you to no matter how hard you squeeze.
This drives up your confidence with your pretty lace panties pushed to the side, making you raise to your feet.
“Shit,” he grabs ahold of your ankles between half-lidded eyes, and his mouth slightly dropped like he can’t believe what the fuck he’s seeing. “If Atsumu could see you now.”
The mention of your brother at all should turn you off, but it doesn’t. It only fuels you knowing that you’re actively riding his teammate. In fact, you must tighten around him, because he knows immediately.
“What? Does that turn you on? Fuckin’ slut.”
You whimper at the words, pressing your lips forward to his. You kiss him the best you can as he hungrily reciprocates.
The bed moves forcefully, but Suna knows the other guys are probably too busy downstairs to hear it, and whoever is in the other room may only potentially be a problem. So up and down you go, now slamming your ass against him and reddening his slightly tan, freckled skin.
“hhhmmm,” you whine, breathing shallow.
The brunette lets you go until your legs burn and you’re slowing pace. It’s driving him insane watching you chase your orgasm, using him like he was the perfect replacement for your fingers, in your own little world with your face twisted up in ecstasy and muscles straining. You were too stubborn to stop when he offered it to you, but he doesn’t mind. Not everyone has legs like his.
He instructs while inching his hips up the bed, “Fall back to your knees.” You do, and he grabs one wrist in each hand before digging his heels into the blanket and pounding up into you at a pace you don’t think you could ever meet. It’s rough and loud and you can feel his balls coming up to strike you from behind. Quite literally, it takes your breath away.
“fuck fuck fuck yes,” tendrils of your hair fall over your face when you lay your head down over his shoulder for stability. Aside from not being able to move, this is the best angle for the both of you. Your tits move over his face, which would allow him to suck and bite as he pleases while holding you still, and with the tilt of your body his fat tip reaches your most sensitive part.
You bounce over and over and he wishes he would have pulled your shirt up first. He’s grunting in your ear dangerously.
“Was this in your book too? Is this when he told her to take it like a good girl?”
You try to answer but it’s incomprehensible with the speed of his thrusts. “Again.”
“Y-yes,” you retry, finally getting something out. He’s satisfied with this, so he lets go of your wrists and pushes you upright, only slowing for the moment. This time, he wraps his fingers around your neck, just enough for you to breathe, while rolling his thumb across your revealed clit. The veins of his forearm show themselves and he peers up at you with a glare as if you were the most irritating thing to him.
How hard you were holding him is nothing compared to how hard he is holding you, and just that thought has your eyes threatening to fall closed.
“Then be a good. Fucking. Girl,” he punctuates each word with a harsh upwards cut of his hips, “and take it.”
“Oh God,” you connect your own weak hands around his, your mouth falling open with every moan that floats into the air. He holds your gaze with his threatening eyes, and if you tried to look anywhere but him, he’d pull you right back. “Suna, I’m coming,” you rush it out like there’s no stopping now. And honestly, you’re currently wishing you didn’t say it at all, because you know if he told you not to, your body would try its best to comply.
“No the fuck you’re not.”
Godammit.
Removing his finger from your nub, he moves the hand to meet the other at your throat. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to, which you did, just to let him know that this would only make it worse. There’s a movement: you’re coming down on him yourself with the force of the thrust driving you up.
Your mouth creates the words, but they don’t come out. Suna knows anyway. “Please.”
“No.” And it’s as simple as that, because then he says, “Do you hear that?”
Of course you don’t, he just asked to see if you were sane enough to come back to your senses and focus your hearing. His tight hold on you is enough to leave a mark, but not enough to prevent your head from slowly shaking back and forth.
“On the other side of that wall is your brother. Both of them.” Your eyes shoot wide at the same time his thrusts calm down. He still continues, it’s just with a deep grind to prevent the hard slapping of skin, and he brings your forehead to his as he speaks to you. “Come now and both of us are in trouble.”
He has valid reasons to infer that it is specifically the twins, but he’s sure you don’t want to hear those right now. If it was up to him, you would have been throwing your head back and showing that arch he imagines you had before he intruded in on you changing, but holding it above your head like meat to a starving dog was fine too.
“Please let me come Rin, please. I’ll be quiet,” a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose ends your pleading, hoping it softens him up with the use of his first name.
And maybe it worked, because his eyebrows curl upwards with pity when he explains, “We both know you’re too vocal for that, princess. How about we try something else?”
You nod frantically, raising off his length and letting him lay down completely while you wait for directions. He gets situated by moving pillows out of the way. “Come here.”
You realize now the pity he expressed was fake. Swinging your leg over his waist, you begin to line yourself up.
“No. come here.”
You stare at him dumbfounded.
“Up here, towards me,” he ushers his hands. You scoot closer towards his chest with your hands on his pecs, not sure how much closer the two of you can get.
“My face, baby.”
Instead of getting angry with you, he kept his tone. It was little but it made you feel good. “Oh.”
You come to a hover over his lips, contemplating a lot and nothing at the same time, mainly if this man was really under you telling you to do what you’re doing.
“Sit.”
“Are you sure?” You clarify.
“Yes. Sit before I make you read your porn to me.” This brings your eyebrows in with a crease and you drop with no remorse on his lips. His face is smothered somewhere between his eyes. The only thing visible is his damp hair.
Unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of not being able to breathe.
You’re less than two minutes into absolutely grinding on his tongue, chasing the vibrations of his grunts and groans by tugging on his hair. Your other hand is covering your mouth.
Thankfully, because there’s a quick knock, and Osamu’s voice passes through the door. “Pizza’s here. You okay in there?”
You nod as if he can see you. You then realize he cannot.
Shakily, you call out “Yes.” The only way to not moan while Suna slides the muscle between your lips to taste all of your slick is by biting your lip. His fingers grip the fat of your thighs.
“Okay.” In the background there’s another voice, presumably your other brother. Finally, they become faint until you hear the stairs, and you allow yourself a little freedom.
“Rin,” you look down fully expecting to meet his eyes, but you can’t see him past your hair.
“Hmphh?”
“I’m close— can I?” On cue, he pushes in as far as his tongue can go inside your hole. He nods yes, simultaneously flattening it to lick all of you in one stripe before deliberately sucking your clit.
To muffle your sounds, your hand comes to cover your mouth once again and you’re somehow managing to prepare for your eyes squeezing shut at the same time as your muscles tensing. Suna can feel you dripping, literally this time.
this was kinda rushed
©️hxltic
#suna imagines#suna rintarō#hq suna#suna rintaro x reader#rintarou suna#suna haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hcs#haikyu x reader#haikyuu smut#god i want him so bad#tictalks#haikyuu suna#suna rintaro#suna x reader#suna smut#suna rintarou#suna x you#suna headcanons#hq smut
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Steve is home one day with his daughters when he realizes that his oldest, Moe, is ten.
Okay, obviously, he knew she was ten. She’s been ten for a while, as her birthday is in July and it’s now December, and the girls are discussing Christmas as they perceive it in their little girl worlds.
It’s really that Steve realizes that Moe is the same age Erica had been when he’d asked her to climb through air ducts and infiltrate a Russian military base.
It’s a realization that has Steve feeling a little nauseous, because Moe is ten and she’s plotting with her little sisters about how they’re going to stay awake on Christmas Eve to catch a glimpse of Santa (their conspiring has Steve worried for his and Ed’s own role in Christmas Eve and the way it hinges on the girls falling asleep as early as fucking possible), and she’d lost another baby tooth this morning and hasn’t stopped talking about what the tooth fairy might leave for her overnight, and she still sneaks into his and Eddie’s room after nightmares looking for snuggles, and she’s afraid of car washes and bugs, and she still wants to be read to before bed every night.
He’d been struck suddenly by how little Moe still is. Maybe he’s only thinking that because she’s his daughter – his first daughter, at that – but he still looks at that kid’s face and sees the newborn baby who’d made him a dad ten years ago.
He can’t imagine looking at her and seeing someone equipped to take on Erica had been asked to do, never mind actually asking her to do it, which is precisely what Steve had done twenty-five years ago.
It eats at him for the rest of the day.
“Just call her, Steve,” Eddie urges him after Steve brings it up for the sixth time that evening, “You clearly need to air this shit out.”
So Steve calls Erica.
Erica is in her mid-thirties now. She’s a kick-ass lawyer at a private firm in Indiana, and she picks up the phone on the second ring.
“This is Erica,” she says.
“Hey, it’s Steve.��
“What’s up,” she replies, still never one for beating around the bush.
“I just – I need to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For Scoops,” Steve says, “For Starcourt.”
Erica is silent for a while.
None of them really talk about any of that stuff anymore. They’d hashed everything out ages ago, until all that was left behind was the understanding that none of them would ever be able to truly move past it, that there would always be guilt and fear and pain they could never shake.
“Okay?” she finally says, question in her tone.
“I just…” Steve hesitates, “Look – I didn’t get it. I didn’t fully get how fucked up it was. I was the grown up in the situation and I should have put a stop to it but I was stupid and reckless, and now that Moe is ten, I can’t stop thinking about how insane it was for us to even consider roping you into that.”
“I agreed to it.”
“You were a kid.”
“You were a kid,” Erica insists.
“Eighteen isn’t a kid anymore.”
“Say that to me again when Moe’s eighteen and maybe I’ll believe you.”
Steve doesn't have anything to say to that, because Erica is probably right (though only time will tell, he supposes). Their phone call ends only a few minutes later with Erica telling him to go easy on himself and Steve saying he’d try before apologizing one more time.
“You gonna take her advice?” Eddie asks after he’s pulled a begrudging Steve into his arms.
“No,” he tells him, curling into his husband’s side and sticking his nose in Eddie’s neck so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye.
“Figures.”
#steve is still THE martyr all these years later#give that man a situation and he’ll decide he was the problem#they had a much longer conversation but we don’t have time for that#steddie#liv’s steddie dads verse#steve harrington#eddie munson#erica sinclair
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Hey, I love your writing, your Jason fics are always so tender and authentic
I was wondering if you would write something where Reader is pulled aside by someone and asked whether they're in danger (since Jason is pretty big and intimidating) and later they laugh it off because they find it absurd but it gets to Jason and perhaps brings some insecurities to the surface
this is actually devastating!!! thank you for requesting 🤌
jason todd x gn!reader. tw: wrongly assumed abuse and jason being gutted at the idea, hurt/comfort, reassurance, estab relationship.
****
"Chocolate is obviously superior."
Jason sighs, flopping against the diner booth dramatically. "What a shame to be so wrong. Vanilla stays on top."
"Vanilla is boring as hell, Jay," you say, throwing your napkin at him. He catches it. Of course. "On the milkshake hierarchy, vanilla is barely a step above whatever monstrosity a peppermint bark shake is."
"Buddy, I happen to like drinking toothpaste." He points a finger at you. "And that's my God-given right."
"It's an abomination is what it is." You take a long, pointed sip of your shake. "Mm, the taste of good choices."
Jason traps both of your legs between his under the table. You gasp and try to wiggle free, but his strength is merciless.
"If it's an abomination, why is it on the menu?" he asks, grinning as you squirm.
"Well, what else are they meant to serve you freaks?"
Jason gently tugs you forward by your legs. He leans over the table. You meet him halfway.
"This freak appreciates the thought," he says and kisses you.
He tastes like vanilla shake. It's not what you'd order, but you really don't mind kissing it off of Jason's mouth. Funny how that works.
He pulls away and releases your legs, then scoots out of the booth.
"Gonna take care of business. Don't drink my incredibly irresistible shake."
"I'll certainly try," you say, looking up at him with what are undoubtedly giant heart eyes.
Jason disappears to the restrooms. You drink your shake and focus on trying to craft the straw wrapper into a snake.
You're close to shaping it when a woman comes up to your table. You've never seen her in your life.
"Uh, hi," you say. "Can I help you?"
She glances around the diner before leaning down.
"Hey. Look, if you're... in need of someplace safe, there's a great shelter downtown."
Your brows rise. "I'm sorry?"
"I was in your shoes once too," she says, eyes wide. "You don't have to rely on a guy to get you on your feet. Especially someone like him."
You shake your head slowly. "I... what? I don't understand. The man I'm with, he's my boyfriend."
She looks skeptical. You turn to face her fully, because now you're properly bewildered.
"Uh, I appreciate that you're looking out for people, and I know stuff you're referring to is everywhere in Gotham. But I promise I'm okay."
"I know physical intimidation is scary—"
"Whoa." You hold up a hand. "Just because he's a big guy doesn't mean he's throwing me around. He's the gentlest man you'll ever meet. I love him and he loves me. No one is in danger."
The woman's mouth pinches. You don't even have it in you to be upset. You've never once felt afraid of Jason. But you forget how he looks to others, how he's twice or triple most people's size and covered in scars.
"Here's the number to the shelter," she says, slipping the paper under the salt shaker. "In case you change your mind."
She hurries out the door before you can respond. You stare at the card, then shrug. You suppose, if anything, you're happy there are still good Samaritans in Gotham.
Presently, Jason returns. He purposely makes his footsteps heard because of the countless times you've lectured him about scaring the shit out of you due to his habit of going stealth mode without realizing.
"Hello, dearest," he says. "I've returned from war."
"My hero. Did you wash your hands in battle?"
Jason slides into the booth and sticks his hand in your face. "Smell 'em and rejoice, baby."
You take his hand and give it a deep sniff. It indeed smells like soap. Not that you ever doubted your boyfriend's handwashing capabilities.
"Smells like... wrong opinions about milkshakes," you say, then kiss his palm.
He rolls his eyes. "I can see my absence has taught you nothing. Unfortunate."
"I'm stubborn. I'm sure you of all people can understand that," you say, smiling.
"Mm. Y'lucky you're cute."
Your food arrives, the waitress cheerily informing you that she hopes you enjoy your meal.
"I think she's the happiest person in Gotham," Jason says, shaking the ketchup bottle.
You take a fry from his plate. "Probably a Metropolis native."
"Y'know my fries are the exact same as yours, right?"
"Nope," you say. "Yours have special boyfriend cooties on them. Adds flavor."
"You're gross," Jason says, quite lovingly.
You make a heart with your hands. He returns it, then takes a bite of his burger.
You don't even register it when Jason grabs the salt shaker. You're zeroed in on your lunch and don't look up until he speaks.
"What's this?"
Jason's holding the shelter hotline card.
"Oh! Some lady came over and gave that to me."
"Gave it to you?"
You should clock Jason's tone and the way he's stopped eating completely. But the experience was so odd that you can't fathom Jason thinking it as anything but a mistake.
"Yeah. For some reason, she thought I was here drinking a milkshake with you against my will. Probably 'cause it's Gotham, and you're my BBB: big beefcake boyfriend. Little does she know, I'm the heavyweight boxing champion of Park Row."
You swirl your fries in Jason's ketchup. He doesn't even blink. Usually, he'd give you a raised eyebrow and pretend he's cross.
Jason's still staring at the card. You catch his legs with yours. He doesn't look up.
"Jay?" you ask, smile fading. You drop your legs. "Hey. Y'good?"
"Hm? Oh. Sorry, baby." He puts the card aside and smiles at you, quick and strained.
"Everything okay?" you ask.
"Yeah. Uh, fine."
"Jason." You lean over and grab his hand. "What's wrong?"
He swallows. You wait, the noise of the diner fading. All that matters is whatever's causing his absolutely heartbreaking expression.
"How could she think I'm hurting you?" Jason whispers, finally looking at you. "How could—I would never hurt you."
"Oh, Jay. Honey, that's why I hardly entertained her. It was so silly to think about. I was so puzzled at first that I couldn't even decipher what she meant."
"But what if... y'know, maybe she sensed something about me. Sensed violence. I get it. I'd–I'd be scared of me if I were a regular person."
"Jason, sweetie, no. No, no, no. I think that woman experienced some hard things in her life, and that caused her to see something that wasn't there. She had good intentions, but she was absolutely wrong. I know you have a past, but I've never felt unsafe with you. Never. I could never be afraid of you."
Jason gnaws on the inside of his cheek. You get up and slide in next to him, crowding him against the wall. You curl against his arm.
"You love me so well, I forget that most people see a monster when I walk down the street," he says.
You squeeze your eyes closed. Pins in your heart.
"You're not a monster, Jay. You're good. I know it. Your family knows it. You're a protector."
He takes a deep breath. "If–if you ever felt afraid of me, ever, and you wanted me to stay away, then you tell me so, and I'd leave you alone. No questions asked."
"Jason," you whisper. You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him close. The vinyl squeaks as you shift. "Jay, I love you. I don't want you to leave me alone."
"But if—"
"No. Please listen to me. I know you'd never hurt or frighten me. Sometimes, people are wrong. She was wrong about you. She was kind but wrong."
You sit like that for a bit, feeling each other breathe. Jason's hand grazes yours. You grab it, lacing your fingers together.
"I love you too," he says quietly. "Never felt anything but love for you."
You smile and steal another fry off his plate. He snorts.
"I know." You lean against his shoulder. "Never doubted it."
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd x you#love him! *flails and cries*#red hood fanfiction#red hood x yn#jason todd x y/n#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#inbox#blurb
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✖ Heartsteel Boys and Their Love ✖
[[I was inspired and then I got too lazy to proofread. I hope this leaves a warm feeling in your chest! I guess these are headcanons?]]
Kayn loves you like a storm. Passionate, explosive, and mad. Emotions high, he is passionate about loving you. Grand gestures and even grander proclamations. His love was names shouted out from rooftops that the two of you aren't allowed to be on. Loud noises of excitement whenever he sees you. The little yelps he makes when you surprise him at concerts. It's the happy shouts as he waves at you from the stage, arm thrown up high before he points right at you. His love is the excited smiles as he runs up to you whenever you meet, full speed, almost a tackle. It is the loud laughter as you watch him do absolutely insane shit. The laughter of someone truly in love as he spends time joking around with you. Kayn loves you like a storm. Loud, fast, exciting. Kayn's love is wild and overwhelming. It is the thunder and lighting, the whirling winds and cold rain. It is the way he'll pick you up at your place and drive you to impromptu dates. Teasing the speed limit while blasting songs out loud while the two of you stick your heads out the window. It’s the way he would fill your room with balloons on your birthday and hand you a knife to pop them all with right after. Or jump you with a present you mentioned wanting just a day before. It’s the way he would drag you to the studio to jam out when you needed a pick me up. It was the way his kisses leave you breathless, and his smile sends electricity down your spine. His love was wild. His love was free. His love was a storm.
Ezreal loves you like it is the first day of spring. Bright, sunny, and undeniably warm but not too hot. His love is in the way he chuckles like a flower blooming for the first time whenever he sees you. His kisses like the first warm breeze of the season, chaste and leaving you wanting more. Ezreal's love is in the way he blinks into your life. Taking cute photos together at a photobooth. It's the way he holds your hand as he runs through the streets. It's the way he would mess your hair up and run away, baiting you into chasing him. It was the way he would sneak you into a school late at night, kissing you under the bleachers like it is your first love. His love was the way he'd pick you up and skateboard down the street, whisking you away to do something fun. His love was the wink he’d throw your way when he spots you in the concert crowd. Ezreal loves you like it is the first day of spring. Sparkling, colorful, new. Ezreal's love is like the way you hear birds coming back from the winter. It is how he would whisper you cringey romance as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. It's how he would blush sometimes when you tell him you love him, somehow still shocked that you haven't gotten bored. It is how he would bring you out shopping, throwing cute clothes and accessories your way because he loves making you feel good about yourself. It was how he would drag you cafe hopping, feeding you a macaron here, a slice of cake there, always new things, always fun and interesting. It was the way he would go to the ends of the earth just to see you smile. Ezreal's love was fresh. His love was heart racing. His love was spring.
Aphelios loves you like a cold night. Safe, nostalgic, calm. Soft hands holding you close. Softer kisses and even softer words that fill you with a love like never before. The gentle love of a light from the full moon shining down, reminding you that there is light in the darkest of nights. Aphelios loves you in the way he makes sure you are always safe and warm. His love is the sneaky kisses in the shadows when no one is watching. It is the way he smiles cheekily after stealing your hoodie, only to see him wear it the next day. It is the way his fingers sneak around your waist, pulling you close to him when it is crowded, making sure you are safe and near. It is the soft raspy laugh when you prank him instead, like old friends meeting again after a long time. It was how you can see his eyes light up when he sees you singing to his songs. Aphelios loves you like a cold night. Mysterious, enchanting, soothing. It is the way he lightly plants kisses on your head, rubbing your back while you cry. It is the way he writes you love songs for his words cannot reach you. It is how he lovingly holds your face while he pulls your hand close to his chest, making sure you can feel his heartbeat for you. It is how he would sneak into your bed at night, finding solace in your warm embrace. It was how he would have quiet talks with you on the balcony, smiling happily as you talk about your day. Aphelios' love was comforting. His love was supportive. His love was the night.
Sett loves you like the middle of summer. Fun, fiery, free. Its a holiday all the time with him. Kind gestures that leave you giggling. His love was the way he'd pick you up in a hug when he sees you after a long time. It was how he would bring you to wild dinners with everyone, making sure you are never alone. His love was like the sound of students free from work. The exciting possibility of anything and everything that summer entails. It was how his laugh was loud and boisterous, leaving you feeling warm inside. His love was how he'd hold your hand in public, not worrying what anyone says because he was The Boss. It is the way his ears always flicked around, trying to hear you, how they twitched excitedly when you talked to him. His love was the little bop he’d do, punching the air to show off when he sees you rapping his lines. Sett loves you like the middle of summer. Lounging, happy, golden. Sett's love was the way his kisses were showy, always passionate, always warm. It was how he would physically pick you up and drive you to a beach when you were stressed, chasing you across the shore, lying in the warm sand as the two of you laugh so hard you cry. It is the way his presence made you feel like you could do anything, because he always had you back. It was how he would blow up your phone talking about his day when he was away, making you feel like he never left. It was how he would fall asleep easiest when you laid on him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he holds you close to him. Sett's love was alive. His love was young. His love was summer.
K'Sante loves you like a sunny day. Dazzling, upbeat, radiant. Love that reminded you of good weather, of warmth that makes you feel safe. His love makes you feel heard. Makes you feel like things are ok. Makes you feel like even if times are tough, he would be by your side, cheering you up. His love was like the warm sun bearing down on you on a hot day. You can always feel it's warmth heat you up. K'sante's love was how he always had the perfect thing to say, the right advice for any problem, a solution always within reach. It was how he'd bring you on a fancy dinner, dressing you up to the high heavens, making sure you were just as stunning as he was. His love was how he would hold you close, dancing with you in the living room after dinner to a tune no one else could hear. K'Sante loves you like a sunny day. Euphoric, optimistic, joyous. He loves you in the way he holds you close to his chest every time you meet, assurance that his love would never waver. It is in how his kisses were comforting like no other, bending down to stroke your hair as he lovingly presses his lips against yours. It was the way he’d chuckle when you tell him how much you love his singing. It was seen in the way he'd design matching clothes just for the two of you, so you can always feel his love nearby even when he is not there. It is the way he'd drive you to a flower field, throw out a picnic mat and serenade you in a sea of colors. K'Sante's love was hopeful. His love was light. His love was a sunny day.
Yone loves you like the first sign of fall. Cosy, crisp, cold. He loves you in the way that makes you feel like its time to get warm in bed. His love leaves you wondering how such cold can make you feel so warm. How he was so distant yet so near. Yone's love makes you feel like its a good time to snuggle up and read a book in his arms, quiet but present. His love is like the cold wind blowing autumn leaves into the air. Beautifully elegant. Gentle touches like the wind as his fingers ghost over your skin, leaving you shivering in their wake. It was how he would smile and pass you one half of his earpiece, letting you listen to him mix and edit, so you won't feel left out. His love was the way he would rest his back on the wall, pulling you close to lean on him as he calmly kisses your forehead. Yone loves you like the first sign of fall. Surprising, yearning, brisk. Yone's love was the way he would watch sunsets with you while his hand holds your head close to his. It was how you'd see him smile to himself when seeing a photo of you or reading your messages. It was how he would lightly rub his fingers against the back of your hand whenever you held his. It was how he would give you quick kisses whenever he walked past, too fast for anyone to see, but slow enough that his lips linger on yours. Yone's love was ephemeral. His love was mellow. His love was the autumn breeze.
#this took A WHILE#idk why im doing this instead of my essay#i love them all.#HEARTSTEEL#Heartsteel!Kayn#Heartsteel!Ezreal#Heartsteel!Sett#Heartsteel!K'Sante#Heartsteel!Yone#Heartsteel!Aphelios#Ionian Sunsets#Shieda Kayn#Settrigh#Aphelios#K'Sante#Sett#Kayn#Ezreal#Yone#Sett x Reader#Kayn x Reader#K'Sante x Reader#FUCK THERES SO MANY CHARACTERS TO TAG#Ezreal x Reader#Yone x Reader#DRABBLES#HEADCANONS#League of Legends#Fluff#Aphelios x Reader
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“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.
“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.
El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”
Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”
“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.
Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.
“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.
El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.
“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.
El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”
Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”
Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”
Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”
“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”
Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.
“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.
“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.
Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.
“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.
Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.
“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”
Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”
Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”
“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.
“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”
“—well it could have been—”
“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.
“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.
“Shut up Steve!”
Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”
Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”
“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.
All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.
“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.
“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.
Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”
Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”
“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.
El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.
Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”
Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”
#steddie#byler#this is just about Steve and el bonding#steve teaching El the best way to beat mean girls is to be one#eleven hopper#steve Harrington#stranger things#Eddie munson#mike wheeler#will byers#Steve Harrington and El hopper have a sibling relationship#found family#my writing#ficlet#mean girl steve harrington#fluff#fanfiction#jim hopper
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— clean slate [into the fire, part v]
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | masterlist
cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader
rated e - 4k
tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, canon-typical descriptive violence and death, references to blood/gore, anti-ghoul sentiments, physical violence against reader, hurt/comfort, kissing
a/n: please mind the tags! this chapter got twice as long as the others (maybe I didn't want it to end, haha!) and there was a good break, so to keep things consistent, I am splitting it in half! both are being posted today though, so you don't have to wait 💖
Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.
But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.
(or - they took something from the Ghoul, and he’s here to collect)
The afternoon edges into night, and he tells himself each hour is the last one he'll think about you.
The Ghoul had waited for you to look back. Stock-still in the swirling dust that bit at his skin. A white-knuckled grip around the thick coil of rope.
You hadn’t.
His hand still reaches to scrubs at his neck, his jaw. To wipe you away or rub you in, he’s not sure.
It doesn't fucking matter.
He's stuck around a long time. Enough to see generations of families grow old and then die. The last few weeks are no more than a blip, in his far too-long life.
Hell - he's spent more time underground, than with you.
But something prickles at him. Lingering like a bad trip, leaving his teeth clenching and jaw aching as he finishes out the bounty.
It's messy.
It shouldn't have been. Should have been easy - but he's aching for a fight, something to take his mind off things. He's antagonistic.
Could've finished everything up from afar, but he ends up in close range. Another scar marring his chest, new splatters streaked across his dark coat.
It aches, a deep bruise as it heals.
Still only slightly dulling the itch of irritation.
I haven't lied about anything.
Didn’t last night mean anything to you?
It's sometime the next morning, after a night of a starless sky closing in around him, that he gives in.
Heading the way you went without thought, and when he does notice, he tells himself it's only because he needs more chems. That it’d be a shame to lose a supplier as good as you.
That it's easier, for both of you to stick together.
Maybe that's why he was careless. Knowing deep down, it would be easier to find a corpse later than to haul around a bounty, kicking and screaming.
The small sliver left of another man, from another life, knows he was cruel. That anger had turned him into a viper. Had always been good at striking first. Self-preservation beaten into him after two-hundred years - an old, festering wound.
He doesn’t know how to apologize anymore, but he can already think of a few ways to distract you.
Maybe you’ll forget completely, if he's thorough.
The Ghoul is faster than you are. Needs less rest, less food. Has already plotted just how far you can get in a day. Your footprints faded as packed earth leads to woods, but you’re not the type to wander, and there's only a few settlements in the miles ahead.
Halfway to his destination, when his eyes snag on a patch of rocks. A broken bits of branches on the trees just before it. There's something smeared across the stone - tasting like iron, when the tip of a finger brings it to his tongue.
Something ancient twists in his stomach, awakening from a slumber.
Backing up, he's able to piece together the struggle. Seeing the flattened grass, the heavy boot prints, melding with the smaller ones.
Finding a body, fallen off to the side - angling off the rock with the stain. Something familiar about the look of him.
A boot sinks into their side, rolling them over. A curl of a lip - he recognizes them. One of the two bounty hunters they’d fun into.
He had hated their eyes on you when they blew through that town.
Something had prickled at him then, but he had ignored it. A grit of his jaw - should’ve dealt with both of them.
There’s a hole in their head - red spilling down their neck, still tacky to the touch. A clean, close shot. His finger sinks in the wound, the same size as your 10mm.
"Good girl." The Ghoul murmurs.
The slightest ease of the knot in his chest.
A crunch of glass beneath his feet, the glint of the sun catching the needle. Another shape he knows well - a syringe. Probably a tranquilizer.
Three meeting one, with three leaving. The dead weight of you weighing down their steps, the footprints pressing heavily into the earth.
Easy enough for him to follow, as he slings his gun free.
Always said he did this shit for the love of the game.
But this time - he thinks - it might just be personal.
Despite being back among faces you knew, fear had been your only companion since the meeting in the forest.
Hazy memories flicker through your mind. Being dragged, snippets of light and the heat of a fire. The bright sear of dawn, and the dry embrace of the desert again.
Waking to the feeling of your arms being wrenched above your head. Coming to, hissing and spitting. Nails catching the face of one of them - Baine, you think - his fist cracking down hard against your cheek in retaliation.
Leaving you dazed, as your wrists were caught again - bound in place. A cruel curl of a lip, as they examined you like a brahmin.
“You look like a Wastelander”. It’s spit out, a wet mark against the floor, “We’ll get you back where you belong soon enough.”
You’re not sure how much time has passed. A day, maybe. Hunger gnaws at you - only a small sliver of comfort in the dried meat and fruit tossed your way.
Axton, the head of the Reclaimers - those who were tasked with bringing people back - had grown up with you. At one time, was perhaps even more than that. A distant relation of the current Overseers, his blood too thinned out to be of use - but even he won’t look you in the eye.
You both know how this will go, when you get back home.
Hope drains from you, with each hour. Eating away at the little flicker of hope in your chest, wrapped tightly around your heart.
Maybe he’d show.
But despair clouded your thoughts, soon after.
“You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”
“You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."
Maybe he’d been truthful all along, and you hadn’t listened. Read into all those small moments, weaving them together until they had made something tangible.
The looks, stolen breaths and almost-careful touches. All fleeting, but you had caught them. Holding them close to your heart.
But life isn’t like the holotapes you grew up, back when everything felt safe.
There aren’t cowboys anymore. No heroes on horses - with their silver spurs and a shining, golden badge.
No one was coming for you.
The footprints die out, as the bleached trees grow thin.
Tall grass to packed dirt, dried by the sun. Rolling hills and then mountains, scraping against the horizon. The dipping sun casts him in a red light that bleeds to black at his ankles, his shadow stretching back long and lean behind him.
But these roads aren't wholly unknown to him.
Spent time blowing through Junktown and The Hub, a couple dozen miles away. The memory hazy, but there weren't too many places folk could stay, once the sun went down and everything wild and unruly came crawling out.
A feeling in his gut has him stopping two miles down the road. A half-dug quarry, long abandoned even before the world went to hell. Threadbare railings and platforms held together with spit and a prayer, framing the rusted building that cuts into the stone walls.
The tip of his boot taps a loose rock, sending it off the edge. Head cocked as he thinks, until he hears the faintest clatter a hundred feet below.
Two-hundred years ago, he had stood on a ledge much like this. Valley of the Gun. The final shootout had his guns lost in the dust. Fist-fighting with the leader of the gang, until they both near tumbled off the edge together.
Honorable, in the way he had caught the man's hand. Tried to haul him up, but had to let go when a knife was pulled - keeping him the hero. A satisfying death that wasn't his fault, a way to keep his conscience.
All movie tricks. Angles and the implication of falling, as the camera focused on his face that swam with regret.
Comin' after a girl then, too.
Thinks that's why the old memory has loosened in his mind.
Funny how things can change, but the bones remain. How he's still drawn back to life he's left far behind. Even if his conscience was buried, a long time ago.
Some things linger. He could go down. Take one of those ladders, work his way through the tunnels that are sure to wind through the limestone, and up through the back.
But he's never much liked being underground.
Another second of considering, before he's heading for the front door.
He used to like a script, but that was back in the day when the worst thing that could happen was a box-office bomb, not the hell he's been dragged through.
A half-cocked plan already forming. Twisting that connection between them, his own abandoned contract. Get him through the front door and to the man in charge at least, and that might be all he needs. Let years of instinct take over, after that.
Had already gotten a good look at a couple of them, when he first picked up the bounty. It had made him curious - why there was so much fuss, over so small a thing. Easy caps, he decided, when he had gotten a look at you.
Picking up that their brutality had been learned from sharpening their teeth against a silver spoon. Hardy - compared to some Wastelanders - with their filling meals and their pristine weapons.
But they sure as hell don't have the same grit as one.
Not much of anything, really, when compared to him.
The door opens with the push of his shoulder. Hand beneath the swirl of his coat, finger already fixed on the trigger. Not far in until he’s running into one of them - another Vaultie.
The man startles, wide-eyed when he sees him. Green, in his shades of blue and yellow.
“Here ‘bout a job.” The Ghoul keeps his voice light, in spite of everything.
Knows they’re keeping you alive for someone else, as much as that makes his jaw clench. No need to go rushing in just yet.
A flicker of recognition, as the man frowns, “How’d you find us?”
His head tilts, that smooth drawl slipping in, “Wouldn’t be much of a Bounty Hunter if I couldn’t, now, would I?”
The Vault Dweller’s eyes are fixed on his face, that familiar look of fear and disgust - dipping down to the pocket of his nose, the curling smile of yellowed teeth.
It’s strange how foreign it feels, after the hours spent with you looking at him so differently.
Maybe he’d been a fool, after all.
Maybe it’s more than your tight cunt that he wants to bury himself in, to claim. Something soft, bitten back behind his teeth. Something he doesn’t even know if he has a name for, anymore.
Something he didn’t know he needed , until he had chased both it and you away.
“We’ve already got her.” The man manages, after thinking it over, “Don’t think we need your services anymore.”
There’s another flash of teeth at the confirmation.
“Agreement was to find her. And who do you think rustled her up?” His brow lifts, “Would’ve been half-way to New Reno by now, if I hadn’t herded her your way.”
That sharp edge creeping in, “Think my time’s worth a little somethin ’. Don’t you?”
It’s easy for the guard to leave that decision to someone else. Standing aside, to let him pass.
“Thank you kindly.” The Ghoul tips his hat, a swirl of his coat as he passes.
Taking just enough steps past them, waiting until the man’s back turns. Spinning on his heel, after.
The knife glints between his fingers as he twirls it. A hand pressing over the Vault Dweller’s mouth, before the blade sinks into their neck.
Muffling the dying gurgle. A grunt as the Ghoul yanks the blade free - leaving the body crumpled in the shadows, as he winds deeper.
One down.
Hold on , he thinks.
I’m coming.
His whistle echoes in the chamber.
Half old-world - a long-forgotten leitmotif that fuses with new notes of his own. A part to play until he doesn't, letting the Ghoul guide him.
Down the half-lit hallway, the lights flickering overhead from the ancient generator. Everything picked clean like he figured it would be - every last piece of scrap ferreted away, leaving only dusty crates behind.
Still playing the part, as the low murmur of voices grows louder. Ears pricking up, listening for hers. Picking out at least three or four others from the layered hum.
A sneer, at the number. He’s faced worse odds. It’s in his favor really - take out as many fuckers as he can. Send bits and pieces of them back.
His intentions masked, an old habit, by the time he enters the warehouse. A wide steel grate floor, opening up to a second level below, scattered with old machinery.
There’s a table. Cards littering the top - a luxury brought from the Vault, as they bet using caps. Couple Vault Dwellers and that Wasteland son of a bitch from the town. Four total, one lounging on a sleeping pack as if it’s just another night, and they weren’t bringing you to your death.
It rankles him, teeth set on edge.
A scrape of chair legs on the floor, at the drawling condescension of his voice.
“Ain’t y’all a little old for a sleepover?”
Hands rest on holsters, but they don’t draw. The Ghoul focuses on one - a face he recognizes, the one who had sought him out.
The man’s legs spread, as if he’s got something worthwhile between them. The leader of this whole operation. Axton , or some shit like that - it hadn’t been worth his time to remember.
“Believe you fellas got somethin’ of mine.” The Ghoul drawls, “I’m here to collect.”
There’s a pause at that.
One of them, a right-hand man by the look of their padded leather armor - not a scratch on it - scowls. A face that tells another story. Pink marks start at their cheek, jagged lines that end at a thick neck.
His eyes narrow at that, lip curling. A flicker of unease in his belly - fingers clenching where they rest against his hips, close enough to draw.
“You’re too late for payment, ghoul. Heard you were dragging your feet.” His head tilts, towards the Wastelander who had gone still, “We went and got her ourselves.”
The Ghoul grins - a fierce thing, with a flash of teeth. A lilt, in his voice.
“Now, what makes you think I’m here for caps?”
It gives them pause. His question - the prospect of a ghoul showing up, unannounced.
“What else you here for?” Another grunts - eyes already back on his cards, a comfort in their numbers.
“Think you know.”
“The girl?” Atmos laughs, and the sound is cruel, “Heard she split from you. Caught her after.”
A tilt of his head towards the armored man and the Wastelander. Taunting then, “Must not be that good, if you let her slip away. What, she get tired of looking at your ugly mug?”
If they only knew the kind of things he’d done to you. What you had done to him, right back.
The Ghoul is only half-paying attention. Sticks and stones, all their insults falling on deaf ears. Too busy with eyes that flick over the top floor. Then down to the ground below.
Something flipping inside his guts, when he sees it. Cast in shadow near the base of the stairs, but his eyesight is keener than it’s ever been.
Arms bound, the knot looped around the hook of an overturned crane. A raw, split mark - swollen and bruised flesh - on the curve of a smooth cheek. Just above where your teeth cut into a piece of cloth, tied tightly around to gag you.
A tilt of your head, and then your eyes are meeting his. Round and blank with fear. Widening, when you see him.
His girl.
Muscles string tight, eyes narrowed as his teeth clench. You’d paid for what you did, and he’d be there to return the favor.
His gaze snaps back, and focuses. Whatever plan he had been working up burns, turning to ash.
“Always heard that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.” The Ghoul’s tone is conversational - although his blood boils, scalding hot, “But if you wanna see an ugly fucker , well… you best look right there.”
There’s a nod of his head, towards the man in charge. As if on cue, their heads twist to look - just as he draws, and then fires.
The Vault Dweller’s head caves in. Gore splattering against the blue of his suit. Barely a breath before his finger is tugging again, a bullet going through the chest of a second.
Always too goddamn slow.
Hesitant to take a life, even with their bravado.
Something that molted from his skin with the rest of him, over a century ago. He’s already reaching for the gun holstered at his shoulder before return shots are fired.
He can feel the flicker of something miss him, before he’s charging. Ducking under the swing of a knife, the muzzle pressed against ribs.
A hoarse shout that is drawn out by the ringing blast. The knife caught and sent spinning into the back of the Wastelander, heading towards the door.
Flinching, as something slams into his shoulder, just shy of his collarbone, and out the other side. The turn of a head - an eye fixed on the last man standing.
Padded armor won’t do much to stop him.
“That your handiwork?” The Ghoul growls, as his head tips towards you.
The man's finger twitches but he’s faster - a shot going into the meat of their thigh. Downing them as they scream, as the Ghoul saunters over to tug the hilt from where he’s buried it in the Wastlander’s back.
It glints a gleaming red in the light, as he adjusts his grip. Eyeing the scripted tattoos that cross over the man’s knuckles - as they grip at their thigh, near-tenderized from the blast.
Ones that had struck you. Could send them back, spelling out something obscene. A rough laugh at the thought.
He’s got someone waiting for him. But, he knows from experience…
That this won’t take too long.
In the hours since you parted, it’s only now that you can breathe.
For a long moment, you hadn’t dared believe. Eyes drawn to the noise above - the loud pitch of voices.
One of them - rough and low - draws your attention. Everything dark from your angle, an ache as you had tried to see.
Knowing that shadow. The brim of his hat.
The burn of his eyes, when they fixed on you. You could feel the fury in them, even from here. A muted sound of desperation from behind your gag, as you watched.
The Ghoul shoots first - the second his eyes pull away, and it’s all over in a matter of moments.
Your eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, of screaming - until it finally cuts short. Leaving the warehouse eerily silent, except for the clicking of spurs against metal.
He crouches in front of you, now - and you can’t help the whine. So much trapped behind the thick binding of cloth. All you could do is tug at your bound wrists - neck craning as you tried to watch from below.
A force of nature. Bared teeth a quick draw. Again you’re forced to admit to yourself how lucky you were to still be standing, after your first meeting.
He had blown through them like it was nothing.
“Hold on a minute, honey.” That low tone is familiar, calming you as his fingers hook around the cloth. Leaving a smear of red against your jaw as he tugs the gag free - shucking his gloves after.
“Are you hurt?” It comes out ragged. Tongue heavy in your mouth, throat dry. Eyes scanning the dark leather of his coat - all that red , smeared across it, “Thought you got hit.”
He barks out a laugh, your chin trapped between thumb and forefinger, “That’s what you’re worried about?”
Something dark swirling across his features, as he tilts your head towards the light. His thumb pressing at the edge of your bruise, denting skin.
“They got you good, didn’t they?” He murmurs, and you smile through a wince, at the dull ache of pain.
“You got them.”
“Sure did,” It’s distracted, as he cuts at the binds, next. The rope fraying and then splitting, an ache in your shoulders when your arms finally lower.
“Fuckin’ amateurs.” He mutters again, watching as you wince at the rubbed-raw skin at your wrists. The corners of his lips tipped down, lost in thought.
“Thought you would’ve liked seeing me all tied up.” It’s a weak thing. An attempt at humor, the ache in your heart at seeing him cut by the acidity of your last meeting.
He blinks. Comes back to himself, a hoarse hum of amusement.
“Only when I’m doing it, sweetheart.” The Ghoul’s eyes meet yours then, a hint of a smirk with the tilt of his head.
“Can think of a much better way of gagging you, too.”
There’s almost a softness to his tone. Just barely there, tinting the rough edges. Something like hope flutters - delicate, behind your ribs.
“You… you came, for me.” You need the clarification. To hear him say it. That this isn’t some ruse, a way to take you directly to the source, “You’re not-”
There’s a sigh, as he fixes you with a long look. His head tipping towards the platform above, a lazy flick of his finger towards an arm that dangles from the ledge.
“Well that there man’s the one I got your contract from,” The Ghoul drawls, “Said I was to return what belonged to somebody else.”
Those eyes fixing on you again, “Seein’ as you’re not , and seein’ as that man is now indisposed…”
His words trail off - and you can’t help the small smile, as he finishes.
“I’m thinkin we’re square.”
The look you give him is soft. Admiring. You don’t know how he tracked you down, but he did.
“You saved me.” It’s hushed, and at your tone his eyes pull from you.
Fixing somewhere low, off to the side, as he crouches. Uncomfortable with the way you look at him. How you see him. Not used to it, not after so many years.
You’re not able to resist.
Muscles stringing stiff when you lean forward. Lips pressed against the leather of his cheek, fingers ghosting against his jaw.
A huff then, teeth biting into his tongue with the shake of a head. His eyes dark, as you pull back, hovering.
“Darlin’ if you’re going to be stealin’ a kiss, you best be doin’ it properly.” The Ghoul rasps, eyes flicking down to your mouth.
His head tips towards yours, but it’s your that meets his first. A little sound in your throat as your lips slot against his. Warm and insistent as his knees drop to press into the cement floor.
Tugging at you, as your fingers grasp at his collar. A hungry lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips as you whine, crushing your chest to his.
His fingers at your neck, your jaw. Angling your head, a rough groan as you part for him. Turning ravenous - wandering hands as your tongue slips against his. Panting breaths and a grinding of hips when he yanks you closer.
“How many were there?” He hums, as you try to sneak a ragged breath.
The curve of a smile when you try to ignore him, a click of his tongue.
“I dunno,” Your mind is too foggy. Too focused on the hands that trace against your waist, “Four? No… maybe five?”
“You don’t seem too sure, sweetheart.” He does smile then, at the little mark between your eyebrows. Untangling himself - a hand reaching down to adjust himself, as he stands.
“As much as I’d like to take you right here,” He husks, eyes dragging over you, “The last thing I need is a bullet in the ass.”
A tilt of his head, towards the open floor.
“Come on, cowpoke. Let’s do a sweep.”
the last (final, for real this time) part will be up in just a little bit! 💖 thank you so much for reading - this series has become so much to me, and every ask or comment or tag or reblog has absolutely meant the world 💕
#please mind the tags!#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#fallout smut#fallout tv series#fallout#cooper howard
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