#its not just the clothes and chains either
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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ OUTFIT & DESIGN MOTIFS ⌝
sampo analysis m.list
— what the stars reveal: half-character-study, half-analysis, waxing poetic, elation!sampo
— word count: 3.1k
— overview: a look at sampo’s outfit and design, as well as how it may link to an identity closely connected with the elation.
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For the sake of my own sanity, I’ll be splitting this analysis into clear-cut sections:
Snake Motifs
Binding Chains
Weapon
Hair
Color Palette
Shoes & Walking
Layers
Exposed Skin
Here’s his splash art for reference, although I’ll also be including other photos of his outfit:
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SNAKE MOTIFS ⌝
One of the biggest aspects of Sampo’s outfit design are the snake bones littered across his clothing. From the scaled chain behind him to the shoulder guard that has a protrusion reminiscent of venom-dipped fangs, there is a lot of snake imagery present. Not just snake, however, but dead snake. It’s important to note that none of these pieces have skin or lively color — they’re all bones, bleached and picked clean. For me, this implies Sampo to be a skeleton character, a whisper of a dead or dying thing that still carries a last bit of venom in its fangs. Whether that “thing” is a metaphorical emotional state (centering themes of disillusionment and fatigue), a literal identity (centering themes of lessening power and lowering status), or a combination of both is up for interpretation. Either way, something inside him is decaying.
The snake — the living, hunting predator — is past its prime, stripping away over the years into something that barely resembles itself, the bones of an ancient and powerful thing. Emanator!Sampo may find himself slowly drawing away from the compulsive Elation first bestowed upon him, while Aha!Sampo may find Themself rotting into Their own mortal shell, the remains of what used to be a superficial avatar sticking to Their bones and sucking them clean; alternatively, the restrictions placed upon this mortal form of Sampo may cause Aha to be whittled down, only an echo of Their full strength. In another case, the silhouette behind the masks, the bones behind the meat, may have found himself steadily falling out of orbit with his larger mind, eventually ending up as nothing but a shadow of his former power as an Aeon — a skeleton, removed from the body when it was no longer needed. Or, perhaps, he is trying to keep the venom in.
(Note: His eyes are also snake-shaped like Baizhu’s from Genshin Impact!)
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ BINDING CHAINS ⌝
When looking at Sampo in a 360-degree view through the camera, something became apparent to me — the snake motifs (the spine and scales especially) seem to wrap around him tightly. In the splash art, this is a little difficult to tell (as the spine is flared out behind him), but here, they are tightly wrapped around multiple parts of his body:
Here, we see a fairly small part — a cuff wrapped around his upper forearm. This sticks out to me because it seems similar to a handcuff, or some kind of article of containment. It fits snugly, pressing in on his skin. There is also a similar wrapping around his thigh, showing that this is not a one-off design decision. There are multiple tight wrappings of containment around his body, which then implies a something in containment. Additionally, there’s the bone chains on his back:
They wrap around to the front, resting in the hollow of his neck. There are also two latches fastened to his back, giving the idea of the bones almost “hugging” him. Now, we are beginning to get a dual picture: a snake, slowly choking and constricting its prey, and a binding chain of bones, something meant to keep danger contained. We can see this even more clearly once the full picture comes together from different angles:
(These wrappings are even reminiscent of the symbol for Ouroboros, an ancient Gnostic and Alchemical symbol that represents the constant cycle of life, death, and rebirth, as well as the unity of all things material and spiritual. As I’ll discuss in its own dedicated analysis, this presence of the snake as a symbol of rebirth and unity may speak to a constant cycle of different emotions or consciousnesses within him — a loop he seemingly can’t escape. He is trying to live, but death ever looms in the background. Additionally, this points towards him trying to reconcile multiple facets of his being.)
The snake does not want to leave. It is cloying, constricting, containing at every waking moment, unwilling to relinquish the meat inside it. I believe the snake and the chains are one and the same: at the same time Sampo is being hurt and constricted, he is also being contained. The snake bones may represent Aha as a separate entity, the Elation as a addiction-filled Path, self-imposed rules from a more powerful past self, or even the “restrictions” placed on higher beings by virtue of existence.
An Emanator!Sampo may be constantly choked by the chains of his status, the realization that this Path isn’t the one he wants — disillusionment is hard to hold on to when surrounded by those who move from sorrow to joy at the drop of a hat. The gaze of an Aeon may constantly weigh on his shoulders like venom-tipped fangs waiting to strike, waiting to strip everything away from him once he becomes no longer “interesting.” Or perhaps that interest is the binding itself, the consuming, compulsive need to laugh, to operate on impulse, to push all feelings of doubt out before they can even be felt; the want to so desperately escape from Elation despite it clinging to him like a specter, regardless of his wants or needs. Emanator!Sampo may also be contained in his power, the same disillusionment that drives him to stray forcing him to hold back his true power, the truth that he could ruin everything he cares for with a single mistake. He doesn’t know what to do when the Elation grows ever tighter, ever higher, the bones of a rotting thing turning him rotten as well. He wants to escape but doesn’t know how.
(Perhaps, this desperation has rotted into hate which has rotted into vengeance, a dedication to using his life to push out the last of his venom, if only to stain an Aeon with Their own blood before falling away.)
Alternatively, an Aha!Sampo may find Themself now restricted by flesh and blood, feeling Themself to be a shadow, a dead skeleton of what They once were. For whatever reason, Their mortal form is forced to have restrictions, perhaps the same ones They face in Aeonic form. But it’s small. Too small. Ten thousand sizes too small, as it always is, and now They’re trapped for a longer time, forced by a looming threat to operate in the shadows, slowly hollowing out with the distance of consciousness and time.
Who are They, if not the masks? Who are They, if not an Aeon? Perhaps this is not even mask-related at all, but rather a silhouette who grew tired, determined to carve his own path when the stench of decay became too much. The Original, The Progenitor, far outlasted by feelings that grew too strong for his body to handle. He is not an Aeon, not a mortal, but somewhere between a bleached skull and a mouth full of venom. How can he spit out what is rightfully inside him? How can he cut the binds that tie him to an eldritch being he was never meant to be?
He does not want Elation, but Elation has always wanted him. How can he escape something so dedicated to swallowing him whole? How can he escape something so natural to his being? There is no clear answer besides one: if he does not find a way to escape, the only thing left of him will be bone.
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ WEAPON ⌝
Anyway! Haha! Isn’t he so silly? Let’s look at his weapon next:
It seems to continue the snake theme, with both sides of the blades marked with the same bright purple of the “fangs” on his shoulder guard. I don’t think it’s a mistake that these are the brightest colors of the outfit, but I’ll save that for later. For now, let’s focus on the dual nature of his weapon. Besides carrying on the snake theme, these are dual blades, able to be split apart and combined at a moment’s notice. To me, this seems like an indication of two “sides” to Sampo, two different personas that can be separated, combined, or interchanged at will. This could be an Emanator form, an Aeonic form, or simply another personality or “deeper” emotion behind the con-man persona.
I find this choice of weapon very fitting for him, as it capitalizes on the dexterity of both his personality and fighting style. It’s something that is easily able to be tossed from a distance, allowing him to damage enemies over time without getting too close to danger. There is also an inversion to its form, and while that could just be so he doesn’t scratch himself when throwing it, I also see its connection to the “inversion” of Sampo’s E6 and Aha’s splash art silhouette. There is an implication of inversion, mirroring, and duality with this weapon. Whatever power or consciousness he may be holding, there’s a good chance there are multiple dimensions to it, the kind of dimensions that exceed mortal standards.
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ HAIR ⌝
Something of note is the grey in his hair, a color often attributed to older and more powerful characters (Welt has a (albeit dyed) strand of grey hair and Acheron has grey strands as well). They are, however, at the bottom of his hair, like the (perhaps also dyed?) blue is trying to override it. This could speak to an attempt to find his own identity, to cast aside the bleached white of decaying bones and find some vibrance to live for. There’s also a lot of it compared to other characters. It’s not just one or two strands, it’s entire parts of his hairtips, with the implication even more may be white behind the blue. This would line up with what he says about being an “old timer,” most likely downplaying his own status to “just an old guy” when he is vastly more powerful than others realize.
Additionally, his hair obscures one of his eyes, always casting half of his face behind blue.
I feel this speaks to the idea of “multiple” sides, since one part of him is literally hidden from view. There’s the laughing, joking con-man we see, sure, but we don’t see the “hate” festering beneath, the potential despising of one’s own power and being. We don’t see the silhouette behind the masks. It wants to be free, most likely, of the chains that bind it, wants to step into the open with the clarity of rage, but it is not allowed. And so it stays, hidden behind blue. It stays, allowing the turquoise eye of a red-tinted mask to operate beyond, leaving itself to fester and rot into itself. Would we see an eye, if we pulled back that hair? Would we see something besides a wink here, a crease there? Would we find a matching color, or would we find blood red, a space infested with angry maggots? Would we perhaps find a hole? The blank, staring Nothing of Nihility? Only time will tell.
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ COLOR PALETTE ⌝
An interesting thing I noted while staring at pictures of this man’s splash art for way too long is the clash between colors. When dealing with the visible light spectrum, red and blue are on opposite ends. Red and blue are also popularized opponents, despite them not being true opposites on the color wheel. They can clash very jarringly, although the muted reds and blues (bordering on purples) used in Sampo’s outfit compliment each other better than in other combinations. Still, they stick out against each other, chafe against the backdrop of muted grays and blacks of dying bone. The red, often associated with blood, is also associated with Aha’s masks in this case, since most masks have a combination of white and red or red and orange to them (especially in Aha’s splash art). Additionally, blue is often associated with water and calm, which ties back to Sampo’s name “Koski” which means water rapids in Finnish. There is a clear conflict between these colors in Sampo’s outfit, the starkness of drying blood mingling with the attempted free-flowing blue of a new identity. The blue that is so strong in his hair, his mind, is slowly beginning to peek from beyond the red of the rest of his body — a solitary flower, perhaps, watered by the rain and allowed to cautiously, timidly, lean into the doorway of his being. Still, it is a battle. The red will not give up. The pain, the addictive nature of being consumed by the snake, has been there for so long it naturally attempts to obscure whatever new healing the blue brings. But the blue is persistent. And so, it stays.
All the while, the grey hangs in the background, shadow-like. The monochrome, the static, has been there longer than both the red and the blue, so ingrained into him that it’s easily overlooked for the war between blood and water. But it’s there. The bones of that ancient beast will never fade, stagnant as they are. That’s the thing about bones — they last. Even when the blood runs out and the water stops flowing, bones take the longest to decay. They symbolize longevity, perhaps too much of it. An immortality, perhaps, granted by Emanator or Aeon status, that refuses to disperse even as the mind begins to wither. Thus, the red and the blue arrive. They attempt to revitalize the dying bones, the winding snake, putting just enough contrast between them to create a spark, a single flicker of life — a turquoise of bright running water in the eyes, enough to see the world in better clarity.
(And then there is the glowing purple of the fangs, the looming threat, the contained power. Beyond everything else, the venom is still there. It has always been there, waiting to strike.)
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ SHOES & WALKING ⌝
The only thing I want to talk about here is the lack of footprints Sampo leaves behind (I just wanted a dedicated section for it). We can see clearly in the splash art that Sampo has regular soles that should make indents in the snow, yet his character never leaves footprints when walking through Belobog. To me, this indicates an otherworldly nature of being, or a lack of being there in the first place. This can fracture into several different theories, some of which being that it’s intentional on his part and he can manipulate his body and surroundings in a structural way; that it’s simply a byproduct of a higher being taking mortal form (and thus not fully “conforming” to all minutae of human bodies); and that it’s because he is a projection or puppet of some sort that was never really there to begin with. Whatever the case, this seems to be a strong indicator of higher status, whether that be Emanator, Aeonic, or something different. After all, no regular, unassuming guy would be able to so casually and effortlessly defy gravity to not leave footprints.
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ LAYERS ⌝
Man, this guy’s outfit is confusing. Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. I’m just still not entirely sure what’s going on in his chest region, there seems to be a lot of straps and buckles and zigzags and windows. I’d like to say this still speaks to the idea of “containment,” as many layers like that would certainly feel constricting, but I also feel like it’s meant to be a “look” as a whole. The bottom layers being black and gray, then blossoming out into blue and red almost makes me think of a decaying animal, with the blood being exposed as well as some of the bone beneath. I also feel like it ties back into his “layered” personality, in which he has different feelings and personas he chooses to either show or hide at any given moment. His neck and hands are also covered (with the red gloves dipping below the black), perhaps further speaking to concealment. The snake motifs are also present on multiple layers, giving the feeling that this is a constriction that runs deep.
✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ EXPOSED SKIN ⌝
I will say it: this man’s outfit is sluttyyy (affectionate). Despite the heavy themes of constriction and concealment, the encroachment of the colors and layers do not affect his forearms and hips. He very much has his “V” out to show the world, and I for one am not complaining. To me, this exposed skin feels like a breath of fresh air, something beyond the rotting, constricted animal for once. This seems to really be Sampo — the flesh and blood Sampo, the mortal, the guy who likes striking poses and probably gives great hugs. Yes, it is still strategic (probably trying to ramp up flirt appeal for when he tries to scam people) but it also seems genuine. Sincere. If the rest of his outfit is a constraining, dying bloodbath, then these pockets of skin are the eye of the storm, the places that seem to be untouched by the onslaught. Here, we see a human being. Not an Emanator or an Aeon or a byproduct of compulsive Elation, but a man. Just a man. Breathing, like everyone else. It’s nice.
My main takeaways from this outfit are:
The bones of an Aeon, with mortal and “Primum Mobile” restrictions combining to constrain.
The bones of an Emanator, slowly whittled away with time and the weathering of longevity bestowed by Elation.
The general themes of rot, decay, snakes, venom, constraint, and being suffocated.
Ouroboros, constant cycles, prey caught in a trap of potentially its own making.
Any combination of these!
(I also wrote this piece before really getting into the Doll!Sampo theory, but there is definitely an interpretation to be had regarding Sampo as a creation of Aha! The decaying animal and contradictory colors could represent the fight between Sampo’s “purpose” and who he really wants to be, as well as the chains of Elation choking his freedom of self-expression and want to be his own person. The consistency of constricting and containing bones could also speak to him being a “shadow” of Aha, the echo of a greater being while still powerful himself. If he was created in Aha’s own likeness, he would probably feel the pressure of always being in the shadow of his creator.
Additionally, many other parts of this analysis can still apply to Doll!Sampo, as I see him as at least Emanator status. Longevity would take even more of a toll on him here, since he would have lived so long being disregarded by others as a “toy.” I’ll probably elaborate more on this when I do a dedicated breakdown of my Doll!Sampo theory!)
A note I couldn’t find a good place for earlier: snake bones also imply shed skin, some siphoning off of a greater part of oneself to be reborn anew. Perhaps he is the dead and dying snake, preparing to molt into something even greater. That’s all!
The End! Overall, I feel like I realized a lot of potential things about Sampo going through the parts of his outfit one-by-one. I’m definitely more on board with the idea of being simultaneously constricted and constrained now! Ties that bind, and all that. I also didn’t realize just how much of a battle his outfit feels like until I really looked at it, and now I feel bad for the poor guy. Whatever his endgame identity is, he is not having a good time. I want to give him a hug :((
Also, I want to include this bonus concept art since it shows the snake motifs were a big aspect from the beginning:
Anyways, that’s all!
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thanks for reading to the end!
(volume warning)
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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.
#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#hsr#honkai star rail#honkai: star rail#sampo#sampo koski#sampo hsr#hsr sampo#sampo honkai star rail#analysis#hsr analysis#hsr theory
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Why Techno thinksthat is sus to see Dream still in prison garb and being dragged around in chains???
I mean with the Server's history is kinda weird that they didn't left Dream to rot and die in the prison alone.
To clarify, it's not like seeing him in a prison uniform is surprising, but Techno had not been informed of the torture by this point, which is evident in how Dream walks and interacts with people.
He didn't even know what the rest of the server chose to do about the surface imploding, and just so happens to stumble into their path underground. One of the first sights he sees is Dream very clearly being treated more like a useful item than a person, and Techno is not a fan of that.
Also the majority of the server was not in favor of Dream tagging along. Sam insisted. Plus, Bad and Ant weren't keen on abandoning him in the prison either, but for very different reasons.
#vault asks#cave au#its not just the clothes and chains either#tortured man who sat in a cell for months now has to walk miles and miles nearly every day#his cell turned into a constant treadmill with an audience that demands he revives them after they run into trouble#hes not doing well
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People aren't allowed to write about pranksters in fics until they like, figure out that there's more than 2 ways to prank someone smdh
#just thinking about how people love writing chars pranking but then its either really extra shit that doesnt even feel like a prank#or its super boring things that are just hair dye#clothing dye or glitter#idk my moms office filled one ladies desk up with sand and put a fucking hermit crab in there when ahe took a vacation to mexico#they also papaer chained my moms door shut#you went on vacation you got pranked#at work im always finding weird items in my bag#abd when my coworker kept leaving his glasses at qork we started putting them on the statues and masks#we also like would shrink wrap and price and items that got lwft bwhind by coworkers#(we buy and sell used items)#idk be creative use the environment and setting more is my biggesy advice
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hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?
For the Soul (and the Heart)
Miles!42 x Fem!Reader
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE
Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection
please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!
The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.
Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.
Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.
Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.
Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”
There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.
The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.
The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.
The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.
“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.
“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”
You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”
Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”
You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.
“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”
She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.
“Thank you, again.”
“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.
“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”
"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."
Miles glanced up in confusion.
“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”
“Why me?”
“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”
“She’s pretty, and around your age.”
“Ma, porfavor.”
“Ma, please.”
“Go.”
“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.
You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.
There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.
The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.
People feared him, the violence he brought with him.
You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?
If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?
The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.
“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”
“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”
“Sí mamá, ya sé.”
“Yeah mama, I know.”
The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.
The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.
“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”
“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.
“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.
“I’m Miles, by the way.”
“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”
His lips upturned again at the compliment.
You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.
“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”
You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”
He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.
Like claws.
—
Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.
Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.
The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.
And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.
Miles was about the same, probably worse.
You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.
So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.
“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.
You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.
Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.
You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.
“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”
He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.
—
“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”
Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.
You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.
“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.
His voice had gone deeper, smoother.
“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.
He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.
The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.
“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.
“Of course, Mami.”
“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”
You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.
“Mm, it is.”
“And you’re here.”
He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.
He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.
“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”
“You too, Miles.”
“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”
He hummed.
“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
—
It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.
Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.
How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.
Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.
Every little thing.
He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.
He knew you felt the same.
Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.
And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.
He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.
You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.
—
Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.
Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.
It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:
Can you come over later?
He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.
And you did, swiftly replying;
okayyyy !!
I’ll pick you up at 7.
six…?
7, [Name].
>:(
Don’t be childish.
i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:
You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.
Your phone pinged again.
See you at six.
You smiled.
You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.
—
He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.
“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”
“Don’t apologise, Miles.”
You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.
“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”
You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.
You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.
You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“You good, Chiquita?”
“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”
“Mmhm.”
You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.
“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”
He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.
“Maybe ask politely.”
You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.
“Miles.”
“[Name].”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s just a ‘please’.”
“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”
“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.
You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.
You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.
—
He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.
Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.
“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”
“Mm, thought you’d like it.”
“I do, so much.”
You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.
The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.
“My dad.”
Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.
“I’m sorry.”
“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”
He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.
Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.
He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.
There was no escaping his death.
So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.
He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.
“Come sit, vida mía.”
You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.
A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.
There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.
You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.
“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.
“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”
You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.
“Wh—.”
It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.
“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”
“It would.”
He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”
“Mm, we could—,”
He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.
“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”
“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.
“I’ve wanted that for a while.”
“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”
He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.
“Don’t get all shy on me now.”
You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.
“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”
“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”
“Uhuh.”
“Miles!”
“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”
“Oh my goodness!”
—
And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.
Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.
But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.
It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.
—
YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️
thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife
(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)
#across the spiderverse#earth 42 miles morales#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles x reader#across the spider verse spoilers#earth 42#earth 42 miles morales x reader
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hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰
i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?
like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.
if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)
love ya!! hope ur having a good day
Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.
"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."
"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."
Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.
"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."
"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"
Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.
"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."
Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"
"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.
"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"
"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."
You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.
"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.
"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."
You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.
"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.
"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."
"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"
"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."
"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner scenario#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotchner one-shot#aaron hotchner one shot#aaron hotchner headcanons#aaron hotchner headcanon#aaron hotchner hc#aaron hotchner hcs#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner dialogue#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction
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‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR
summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.
CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE
warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder
author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!
In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.
Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.
Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.
In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.
As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.
That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.
“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”
“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”
“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.
You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”
“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.
“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”
With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”
You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”
“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”
What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”
Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”
“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.
“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”
“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”
It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.
“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”
You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”
“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”
“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.
“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”
“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”
“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”
“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”
“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”
“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”
Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’
Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?
“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”
And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.
You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.
“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”
“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”
The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.
Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.
“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”
The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.
“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”
“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.
“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.
“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.
The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”
“600!” Another shouts.
“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”
Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”
“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.
“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”
Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”
“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”
“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”
“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.
The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”
Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.
© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.
Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo
#𖤐popamollyposts#𖤐popamolly#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel characters#hazbin hotel fiction#hazbin hotel smut#smut#female reader#love#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust
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I just wanted to say I think your art style is awesome! I was wondering if you had any tutorials on how you draw anatomy in your style (hips and legs especially)? Sorry if there's already one posted and I just didn't see it 🥲. Happy New Year :>
thanks for the kind words. i tend to draw people pretty stylized and then some so a good bit of artistic licence gets used. these tips are just what i use so feel free to take them with a grain of salt. with anatomy in particular you can kind of talk in circles because human/animal bodies are that complex so ill just zone in on the points you specified. here's a little image with a bunch of pointers:
the above image condenses a lot of the points I'd make, but basically the key parts are to start with the bare essentials and build up that complexity. using a line of action is a good way to get a quick, rough start. you draw a line out in the general direction of the pose and do your best to adhere to it to give the pose a sense of flow.
you can also draw smaller, thumbnail versions that throw a lot of caution to the wind but capture the basic energy of what you're going for. even having a tiny little stick figure version of your idea can make for a good guideline of where to take it forward.
when it comes to actual limbs, you wanna consider how they integrate and work together, kind of like how chains do. you can see on some of the parts of pear i've drawn out these wireframes to kind of portray how the mass of her legs works in a three dimensional space. for aspects like the waist/hips, i use that X technique i highlight above a lot, particularly for the lower torso. a lot of the times, even when drawing a character totally naked, imagining them wearing things like skintight underwear can help a lot to guide you in the right direction.
its also a good idea to consider things like gravity and weight to a degree. humans are essentially big meat sacks and gravity is always pulling down on that, but theres all kinds of aspects that effect that, such as character build or clothing. pear technically isn't naked in this, but i've tried to imagine her as such and take that into account.
if you are drawing digitally, don't be afraid to take advantage of the convenience you get with that workflow. you can retry and iterate on things a lot faster that pen and paper, and do things that aren't really feasible at all when it comes to editing and modifying your existing work. things like resizing certain bodyparts, instantly flipping the canvas, or using selection tools to completely adjust the positions of parts of your drawing. to give you an example heres a timelapse with all the little edits i made just to this demo drawing:
you don't have to use these techniques linearly, either. sometimes ill have a really solid idea for a piece in my head, and go back to basics with certain elements if they’re not coming out right or i just want to brush them up a bit more. some of the tutorial-y parts i added in i didn't actually use during the drawing but often do use so they're there just for demonstration. not every drawing i do starts as building blocks or a really basic version, often ill just start with a face and build it out from there.
i always encourage liberally using references (this can include yourself) and trying out stuff like life drawing or looking at things like existing photographs of real people/places/things if you can, the more you use learning material the better you'll draw up a mental inventory in your head that you can rely on more and more. some of these tips are things i've learned from other artists over the years (the chin one especially i remember seeing a tutorial about lol), so this is a lot of knowledge i've amassed from other sources over time myself. there are plenty of times ill use all sorts of reference material and its all in service of arriving at the final destination as smoothly as possible. learn by doing, as they say. hope this helps!
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ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ғᴏᴜʀs. werewolf kiri au.
you wake up under a mountain of furs.
light comes flickering from the hearth and, warm and welcoming as it is—you've no idea where you are.
you don't recognize the inside of the cabin; it's certainly not yours, nor is its layout that of any you’ve seen in the village. it's rather plain, with a singular window and table and chair and small fireplace, empty enough that you wonder how anyone could live comfortably with so little.
outside, the winter storm rages on, and there's a howl that cuts through the air that strikes bone-deep.
all at once your memories come back to you: dragged through town with bound hands and ankles, in only a thin night dress, screaming with all your might as the physician that delivered you into this world tied you to an old pine, along with the priest and the man that sold you blueberries in the spring.
people you knew and loved. had trusted.
the memories become hazy after a while, darkening with the night that crept in. you remember your body losing its feeling, but not its fear. you remember the violence of the storm, breaking trees and branches and uprooting the forest floor. you remember the horrible and hulking shape of something rising in the moonlight.
the door shoves open then, with enough force to send you scurrying back into the corner of the room. the blizzard tries to rush inside, but a man stands in its way, leaning back against the wood to keep the wind and snow out where it belongs. he's—big, as tall as the frame and just as wide, with thick hair that he's tied back, messy and low.
he's rosy in his cheeks and on the tip of his nose, as bright as the eyes that snap to you the moment you dare to breathe.
he doesn't say anything, at first. the bag of firewood he sets at his feet settles as he turns to you in interest, eyebrows raised. the clothes he's wearing look—old and worn, certainly not suitable for the storm roaring outside, with the holes and tears in the fabric. the boots he has on, however, seem heavy, have his steps echoing when he moves further into the room.
you pull your knees up to your chest and try to shrink away; beneath your thin dress, your skin has pebbled up, reminding you of just how vulnerable you still are.
your fear translates; the man stops on the other side of the little table, breathing in deeply before raising his hands up in what reads as surrender.
"hello," he finally says, and when you don't respond, he places a thick hand to his dark-haired chest and introduces himself as, "eijirou."
he nods emphatically and then repeats himself, as if to reinforce the name. you only grant him a small nod in return—and he smiles. it's wide, stretching across his face, and friendly, authentic enough that you question whether you're as damned as you thought, or perhaps saved.
how did you even get here? the question finally thaws out from the recesses of your brain and you take another look around the room as if the answer lies between the wood or nestled into the furs. this place looks too hand-crafted, you realize, all of it—and the man before you looks like he could move mountains, if he wanted to.
the chains that had bound you were iron-strong and didn't once budge in all your thrashing, before things went dark—but now you are inside by a well-maintained fire, warm and free, and all that remains of your ill fate are the indentions worn into your wrists.
he's still staring at you, the man. eijirou. he's not moved any closer, either, and when you meet his curious gaze, his lips twist and his eyes narrow. a thoughtful noise comes out of his mouth, like he's thinking of what to say or how to say it, and you're reminded that you don't recognize where you are, nor do you recognize him in the slightest.
big as he is, you don't think he could have carried you too far in a snowstorm such as the one still raging outside; are you still somewhere deep in the forest? in a cabin at the heart of the wood? saved by a man that somehow survives with so little out in the middle of nowhere?
"eijirou," you test the name on your lips and he perks up at the sound, attention snapping back to you instantly. you don't know if it's winter seeping through the floor, or if it's in the way that he watches you, that makes you shiver.
finally, he asks, "cold?" and when you nod, he slowly makes his way over to you, carefully, as if approaching a deer ready to run.
—and then he sheds his shirt with a quick shrug and holds it out to you.
you should want to look away, for decency sake, but you're—stunned by it, by him. there's a litany of scars that paint him in odd and worrisome places, but he stands tall and strong before you, unbothered by his own state. unbothered by the eyes that run over the expanse of his bare shoulders, the dark, thick trail of hair running down from his belly button, the ripples of muscle his loose shirt did well to hide.
you take it from him carefully and it's so warm, almost hot, that you press it to your face immediately to chase away the chatter of your jaw. the material itself, however ragged, is big enough to drape over your curled form like a blanket, and so you do just that. it carries the earthy smell of the woods, deeply woven into the fabric; pine and musk and something smoky.
with your cheek still pressed to his shirt, you look up to thank him, at last, but the words still in your throat at the minute changes of his face: still smiling, though sharper now, somehow, and his eyes are still wide with that keen, rapt interest—but the crimson to them has set like the sun and they've grown just as dark as the night outside.
#i wrote this like a madman pls excuse the first draft quality hehe#PLEASEEEE he's so akfhahfkah isn't socialized LOL#doesn't talk to anyone really 🥺has no reason to 🥺#he's new to all this 🥺#doesn't mean to put you in his lil nest and cover you in the smell of him 👀#okay well he DOES but he didn't know it would AFFECT HIM THAT WAY PLEASE#ugh this has been living in my head for so long i'll write more of this when it isn't 1 am LOL#✿ thoughts: kirishima#✿ willow writes#song is wolf like me by tv on the radio !!!
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You can't escape from chuuya 😜 the same as with dazai with the reader with a short skirt nsfw I wanted the most chuuye😠
fiiiiine, fine. Have Chuuya smut that's twice as long as the Dazai one ;)
MDNI, NSFW, fem!reader in a short skirt, 5k of filthy dirty nasty smutttt, name calling, brat taming, spanking, daddy (only once), fingering, cum eating, blow job, all sorts of shit ok. MDNI MDNI MDNI
You’re always professionally dressed at work. Members of the Port Mafia are paid handsomely, so you can all afford to dress to the nines, even for a simple day in the office or a dangerous tryst out in enemy territory. Like many of your coworkers, you prefer a polished, businessy look when conducting Port Mafia business. You have a closet full of perfectly tailored pantsuits, mostly in black though you do keep a few fun colors should you get the chance to wear them.
On your days off, however, you’re more or less unrecognizable to your coworkers thanks to the difference in your business style and your personal style. You’re not just fond of bright and pastel colors, you’re obsessed with them. The girlier, prettier, and gaudier a piece of clothing is, the more you love it. You’re inspired by Harajuku, and pastel goth styles, as well as some frilly vintage vibes now and again. You even have a small collection of colorful wigs you like to wear out sometimes when an outfit calls for just the right one.
One of your favorite outfits includes a black tube top, a cropped pastel pink cardigan that hangs off one shoulder, a black and pink plaid mini skirt over some fashionably ripped fishnet tights and a chunky pair of black platform boots. You like to accessorize of course, and typically go for a pastel pink dog collar choker with a heart pendant, chains hanging across your waist and down one side of your skirt, dangly earrings, and several rings. Depending on your mood, your makeup is either very sharp and black, or very soft and pink, and if you choose to wear a wig, its color is the opposite of the makeup you chose.
On the day you accidentally run into several of your coworkers in a bar, you’re in a pink wig with black eyeliner so sharp it could cut a man.
You’re not surprised that they don’t recognize you. At work you have very plain, naturally colored hair, typically smoothed back into a bun, much like Higuchi and Gin do. In a plain black suit, it’s hard to show off your style. Besides, you wouldn’t want any of your fun clothes getting ruined in the line of duty. And it’s not like, on the rare occasion you hang out with your coworkers, that you’ve had time to go home and change. Typically if you go anywhere with them that isn’t for work, it’s just to lunch in the middle of the day, or to a bar at the end of a shift. They’ve never known you to look anything except professional.
This leads you to want to have a little fun with them all, to see how close you can get and what you can start saying before one of them catches on that it’s you.
You walk past the group a few times on the way to the bar or to the table you’re perched at. They don’t say anything about you at first, and they’re not talking about anything important from what you hear. On your third trip past, however, you do catch one of them mentioning you, and you use your ability-- which allows you to focus your hearing on anything you so choose within a certain radius-- to eavesdrop from across the loud room.
“--same chick has walked by like 5 times already,” Tachihara says.
“Are you sure?” Gin asks.
“Why does it matter? We’re in public,” Higuchi says. “People are going to walk by.”
“I know it’s definitely her because, I mean, look at her. Of course I noticed her.”
You pretend like you don’t notice when several curious heads turn your way.
“God, she’s hot,” Chuuya says, whistling under his breath. “Fucking Christ, those thighs.”
“Hey, I saw her first,” Tachihara says, while the others roll their eyes and tell the two to quiet down.
“I’d offer to share, but if I get a piece of that ass, it’s fucking mine.”
“Jesus Christ, Chuuya, you’ve had too much to drink already.”
“We’ve been here 20 minutes, I’ve barely had one glass!” he says defensively.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance if you’re so interested?” Akutagawa asks, disinterested but amused at the notion of Chuuya making a fool of himself.
“Nah,” he says, waving his hand at his group. “A hot piece of ass like that you’ve gotta chase a little. I’ve gotta buy her a drink, maybe, then ask her to dance later, then lay on the charm.”
“You’re a real ladies man, Chuuya,” Tachihara says sarcastically.
The conversation gradually turns to something else. You let it drift away since your focus isn’t exactly on them anymore, it’s suddenly on the pulsing desire burning in your crotch. “Holy shit,” you think. “Chuuya wants to fuck me so bad he’s making stupid ass plans for it.” Honestly, he could hit it any day of the week if he’d just ask, but he’s never seemed too interested in you at work. “This is what does it for him, I guess,” you think, downing the rest of your drink. You then decide to grab his attention again by stretching a little, arching your back and raising your arms over your head to make your cropped cardigan and your tube top expose a bit of your belly. It’s not a lot, but for someone already desperate to see more of you, it works.
“Fucking hell,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, eyes on you. You make eye contact with him and wink, and when he smirks instead of looking away, you run your hand up your thigh, pulling your short skirt up even higher. His eyebrows raise, giving you a look like “oh yeah?” and you smile.
“His move,” you think, using your other hand to twirl your empty glass around a little bit. Chuuya excuses himself from the group and goes to the bar quickly.
You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.
It’s then that the worst thing happens. Higuchi’s phone rings, then Gin’s, and Tachihara’s, and Akutagawa’s, and Chuuya’s, and yours. It’s an emergency alert from the PM. You’re all being called in, and you need to be there fast. You’re only a couple of blocks from the office. All of your coworkers will be there in less than 10 minutes. You don’t have time to go home and change. You have to go right now.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss under your breath, getting up and rushing for the door before the others do. Maybe if you get out ahead of them they won’t notice you--
“God dammit,” Chuuya groans. “I was just about to get her a fuckin’ drink.”
“She’s running out, too,” Higuchi points out.
“It’s weird that she’s going in the same direction as us, right?” Tachihara asks, unsure.
“There are a lot of other things out this way, dumbass,” Chuuya says.
Then you take a left, and the group takes a left. They get closer, and you try to walk faster.
Then you take a right, and they take a right. Then you approach the PM headquarter building.
“What the fuck?” Chuuya asks, rushing forward to try to stop you at the door, but you rush inside as soon as the door opens a crack.
“Hey!” Tachihara calls, rushing in after you. You hit the button to call an elevator, but realize the only available one is several floors away. You’re cornered. The jig is up.
Fuck.
“Heeeey,” you say, slowly turning around to greet the group as they gather. “Any of you know what the emergency is? I’m wondering if it’s about the Detective Agency’s involvement in our failed gun import. I was just telling Akutagawa-san yesterday that I had a feeling they’d end up losing the guns to some other organization stealing them before the Detectives could decide whether to turn us in over it.”
“Oh my god,” Higuchi gasps.
“It’s [Y/N],” Gin says.
“What?!” Chuuya and Tachihara both say, and Akutagawa is the only one to stay focused.
“It likely is exactly that,” he says. “Your foresight is spot on as usual.”
“What’s with this outfit?!” Higuchi asks, feeling your cardigan and grabbing the hem of your skirt. “It’s so short! Why are you dressed like this? You were at the same bar as us!”
“This is how I dress on my days off,” you answer honestly, shrugging. The elevator doors finally open and you all start to file in. “And yes, I’m well aware we were at the same bar,” you say, glancing at Chuuya as he shuffles past you. His cheeks blaze and his eyes lock onto the ground, refusing to meet your gaze.
So that’s how it is.
The emergency meeting goes on for two tense hours. It’s exactly what you and Akutagawa thought it would be about, and your group, as well as other Mafia and specifically Black Lizard leaders and members discuss action plans, potential repercussions, and viable reconnaissance missions. When Mori finally announces that you all deserve a break and that you’re meet again in an hour, you’re the first to get up and leave the room, feeling embarrassed to be in a work situation in your fun outfit.
Several footsteps follow you into the hallway, but they all patter off in different directions after a turn here, a turn there.
Only one set of steps follows you into the stairwell. It’s quiet, with very light steps, but you know it’s there thanks to your impeccable hearing.
The same footsteps follow you down two floors, three, four, five…
You feel like you’re being chased, but you think you know exactly who it is, and so the chase is more exciting than it is scary.
You finally get to the floor that your office is on and leave the stairwell. You walk quickly to your office, go in but leave the door cracked, and to test your theory that you’re being followed, you “accidentally” drop your phone after walking a few feet inside. You slowly bend over, letting your short skirt rise up over the curve of your ass, completely exposing your fishnet-covered ass and black thong to anyone who may be standing at the door. You grab your phone slowly, give a cheeky shake of your butt, then stand back up.
Your office door clicks closed behind you, and the lock engages loudly.
“That show for me?” Chuuya asks. You turn to find him leaning against your door. A quick glance down shows you that he’s already at least half-hard in his pants.
“Who else?” you ask softly, leaning against the edge of the desk. It’s cold on your mostly bare ass, but you act cool, crossing one ankle over the other. Your legs look long and sexy stretched out in front of you, and you can tell that Chuuya thinks so too because he can’t stop looking at them.
“It’s a shame we were called away,” you say to break the tension. “I was looking forward to that drink.”
“Were you?” he asks, slowly walking toward you. His hands are deep in his pockets like usual, always acting calm and cool. The look in his eye is different than normal, though. It’s hungry. “Nice to know.”
“You know, you’re not as forward as I thought you’d be,” you admit, leaning back on your hands. You’re on full display for him now. “I half expected you to be all over me as soon as you closed that door.”
“Tell me to leave,” he says, finally standing toe to toe with you. “Tell me to get the fuck out otherwise I will be all over you.”
“Why would I tell you to get the fuck out when I could tell you to come the fuck on already?”
Chuuya makes a noise between a moan and a growl and leaps forward, standing so both of his legs are over yours. He grabs your face with both of his hands and pulls you in for a hot, hard kiss. It’s all tongue and nipping at each other’s lips and hot panting into each other’s mouths.
Your hands shamelessly roam his body once you’ve sat up to meet him. You push his jackets back off of his shoulders so it falls onto the ground. You feel his muscular back and shoulders and arms. You slide your hands lower, feeling his sides and hips. You start messing with his belt by the time he even realizes he can touch you back.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he pants, yanking at your cardigan so you take it off. “Honestly good that you don’t fucking dress like this at work,” he says, yanking your tube top down too so your breasts are exposed. “I’d be fucking you every time I fucking see you.” He gropes your tits, squeezing them and massaging them in his hands. He tweaks your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making them hard and sensitive.
“Chuuya,” you whine, “why don’t you suck on them if you like them so much?” He looks up at you and smirks, temporarily grabbing you by the hips to push you further back on your desk so you can lay down comfortably. Once you’re flat he climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips, and leans down to your chest. He licks wet stripes across your tit, teasing your nipple with his tongue. He kisses open-mouthed around your boob, refusing to give you what you really want until you finally whine and shift under him, then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and keeps steady pressure on it for several seconds until finally releasing it with a wet smacking sound. He gives the other breast a similar treatment, teasing and sucking and licking. You reach a hand up into his hair, gently moaning his name while you card your fingers through.
He starts grinding his hard-on against your lower belly, just above your crotch given the way that he’s kneeled over you. You whimper and push your hips up, trying to meet him as he grinds. He’s thoroughly attached to your breasts, playing with one nipple while sucking on the other, trading, kissing, sucking hickies onto them. He works a stream of moans and pants and whines from you, getting you to moan his name several times, which makes him grind down onto you harder.
Finally, his hand leaves your chest and trails down your body, his slightly calloused fingers feeling rough on your soft skin. Chuuya flips your short skirt up, wasting no time in cupping your still-clothed cunt and stroking his fingers over it.
“God damn, you’re wet already,” he says, shifting so his face is against your neck.
“You’re fucking hot,” you admit, tugging on his hair. He bites not-so-gently, leaving an instant red and purple hickey on a very obvious spot. His fingers slowly spread, coming together again almost squeezing your pussy lips together. He does it again after you moan in his ear, adding more pressure to tease you with, and again, but this time his fingers dip under your panties and bunch the fabric up together. He pulls it up, several inches higher than your body, making the fabric squeeze in between your lips, leaving it pressing against your clit.
“Oh yeah?” he asks, chuckling when you grind up against his hand and your own panties, seeking stimulation. “That why you’re letting me touch your cunt? ‘Cause you think I’m hot?”
“Yeah,” you whine, still grinding upward. It’s working, your movements are giving you little shocks of pleasure as the damp fabric drags across your clit and also teases your pussy somewhat. “I’d let you fuck me too.” Your voice is breathy and unsteady, and Chuuya can tell just from the sound of it that you’re getting really worked up.
“I don’t know, doll,” he says, hovering over you by one hand pressed against the desk beside your head. “I kind of like the view watching you fuck yourself on my hand.”
“It’s not really ‘on your hand’ without your fingers in me.” You could swear that his eyes light up.
“What was that?” He teases you again, drifting his fingers over the extremely sensitive skin of your pussy. “Did you say something--” he dips a finger past your lips just enough to hook around your panties and pull them back, pushing them to the side-- “about my fingers?”
“Fucking tease,” you huff, reaching down to grab his hand, but he becomes an immovable force when you try to push his hand further down. “Oh and that stupid fucking ability of yours.” He laughs at that and tsks at you.
“You’ve got a dirty fuckin’ mouth,” he says. “Maybe you need something good in there to clean it out.” He gets off the desk and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and kicks them to the floor. You sit up to see him in just his black underwear and white t-shirt, palming himself through the fabric. “C’mere and suck this dick.”
You obey, getting onto the ground with shaky thighs. He’d gotten you more worked up than you realized, and knowing yourself, sucking his dick is not going to calm you down, it’s going to get you closer to the edge.
You pull his boxers down and he steps out of them. His cock is thick and longer than your fist when you close it around his shaft. You give him a few pumps, spreading some pre-cum down his length, before leaning forward with an open mouth to take him in greedily. You start bobbing your head immediately, trying to take as much of him as possible. He stretches your mouth more than anyone else ever has, and you have a feeling your jaw is gonna get sore if you do this for too long.
Chuuya grabs fistfulls of your hair and uses it to guide you back and forth, setting a quicker pace than you already were. He works up to fucking your mouth, using your head like a sex toy. His tip bounces off the back of your throat multiple times, and you have to focus really hard on not gagging. You get messy, letting spit and drool fall out of the corners of your mouth. Tears also spring up in your eyes from him fucking your throat, but you don’t even try to stop them from falling. Your eyeliner is waterproof, but your mascara isn’t, so some black streaks may fall down your cheeks, but you don’t care. You honestly kind of want to see the fucked out look on your face when this is all over.
“You’re too good at this,” Chuuya moans. “Fucking cockslut, aren’t you? Gonna be my slut now, huh? Gonna let me fuck your throat some more, right? Whenever I want?”
You hum around him but can’t exactly nod given his cock in your mouth. He gets it though, and he also moans when you hum as the vibrations go straight into his sensitive tip when it touches the back of your mouth.
“Gonna cum in your mouth,” he grunts, “gonna make you eat it all.”
You try to shake your head, pushing back on his thighs, whining.
“No?” he asks, slowing down and stopping. “Why not, doll?” He lets you back up, finally letting go of your hair.
“That’s a waste,” you croak out, then clear your throat and try to make the fucked-out sound go away. “If you don’t bend me over my desk and fuck me until I scream I’m never fucking touching you again.”
“Oh, fuck yeah!” he says excitedly, reaching down for your arms. He picks you up effortlessly thanks to his ability, and for some reason that really does it for you. You moan just from that touch, feeling your pussy throb. Then he turns you around, pushes you down onto your desk, and smacks your ass hard. You yelp and then moan as he rubs the sting out.
“Where do you want me to cum? On your back?”
“In my cunt, dumbass.”
“Geez, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” he hisses, squeezing one hand around the base of his cock while the other swings and spanks you again. “And it’s so fucking hot.” He spanks you again. He refuses to tell you he felt his orgasm building from you telling him to cum inside, though his brain is being overrun by that thought now.
He flips your skirt up and rubs his hands on your ass, squeezing your cheeks and gently smacking them to make them jiggle.
“Are you having fun?” you ask him, earning another hard spank, which you moan loudly in response to, a fun smirk on your face. “I kinda like that,” you coo, wiggling your hips back toward him. “Spank me again, Chuuya-san. I’ve been very, very bad.”
He spanks you hard and you yelp, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you moan softly, torn between pleasure and pain. “You’re an asshole.” He spanks you again on the other cheek. “Will you fuck me already, asshole?”
“I would if you’d stop being a bitch.”
“Maybe you’ve gotta fuck the bitch out of me,” you say, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “You’ll never know until you try.”
“Amen,” he says flippantly, pulling your panties to the side again to make sure they’re still out of his way. He rubs his fingers over your wet pussy, dipping between the folds but never into your vagina. He spreads your wetness all over your folds, as if it wasn’t there already, but then he huffs and you hear a slight ripping.
“What was that?” you ask, turning to him.
“Stupid fucking lines are in my way.”
“Lines? My fishnets? You did not just rip my tights, you fucking douche.”
“So what if I did?” he asks, stroking himself with your wet.
“Are you serious? You fucking a-- ohhh, fuck!” You try to insult him again but get cut off by his thick cock skewering you in one swift movement. You’re so wet and ready that he slides straight in, your walls stretching to fit around his girth.
“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, throwing his head back as he bottoms out. “Your bitch pussy is the best shit I’ve ever felt, I swear to god,” he says, grabbing both sides of your hips as he withdraws and then snaps his hips forward again. “You’re so fucking hot.”
“Oh, shit, Chuuyaaa,” you whine, voice going high and strained. “You’re so big, what the fuck? What the-- fuuuck,” you moan as he sets a pace, hips snapping forward every second, filling the room with wet fucking sounds and the smack of his heavy balls against your thighs.
“I’ve gotta fuckin’ see you,” he says after only a minute, backing out of you. You grunt and groan, glaring at him over your shoulder until he once again grabs you with that ability of his and moves you around like you weigh nothing. He has you on your side, one leg hanging off the desk, the other hooked over his shoulder, and then he teases your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it back and forth, up and down your lips, pushing in only near your clit, not near your hole.
“Chuuya, please,” you sigh, reaching down toward where your bodies meet, but he grabs your hand and pins it to the desk. “Please fuck me, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” he asks cheekily, moving his hips as if thrusting, only letting his cock rub between your pussy lips.
“Don’t tease me,” you pant, trying to squirm your hips. “Put your cock back in me, now.”
“Now?” he asks, playing dumb.
“Now,” you insist. He rubs his tip against your clit.
“What about now?”
“Stop teasing me!”
“You know, that’s no way to ask for a favor,” he says. “Maybe I’ll just walk away. Then what would you do? Fuck yourself on your fingers?”
“I’ll find Akutagwa,” you huff, trying to loosen your hand from his grasp. He barks out a laugh, whole body shaking for a moment.
“Akutagawa?! He wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy like this, babe,” he smirks, finally moving his tip back toward your hole. “You really don’t think he could fuck you like I can, right?”
“What if I do?” You try to keep sounding tough, but the brat is being teased out of you, and you really, really want to be fucked dumb on his cock right now. “Maybe-- ahhh--” Chuuya enters you slowly, smirking down at you and the way your eyes roll back before fluttering closed.
“Maybe what?” Chuuya asks, bottoming out.
“Maybe-- Akutagawa--” you stutter as Chuuya pulls back and snaps his hips forward again, spearing your g-spot as if he was locked on target.
“Akutagawa?” he asks, trying to lead you on as he slowly builds his pace. You try to babble something out, but as he starts properly fucking you, leaning over you and holding your leg up so he can press you into the desk, you just can’t think of anything except for Chuuya.
“Chuuya-- Chuuya-- Oh, fuck, right there-- Ohh, Chuuya!”
The sound alone is enough to make someone blush, your wet pussy gushing around him every time he goes balls deep, his body pressing against yours, getting wet and precum and sweat all over each other's crotches. You both get lost in it, moaning and swearing and giving stupid empath threats to each other.
“You better make me cum,” you say to him, and he responds “You better stop being such a bitch when I make this pussy squirt.”
He starts palming your tits again when he gets close, panting and fucking you as quickly as he can.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You sure I can bust inside?” he manages to ask through his panting.
“Yes,” you moan, “oh fuck yeah. Cum in this pussy, daddy.”
“Daddy?!” he asks, and that’s what does it. You caught him so off guard that his whole body jerks and he hunches over you, cumming a big, hot load into your cunt. His face is burning red, and some sweat drips down his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth dropped open, a tiny bit of drool about to sneak out the corner of his mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he says, but it’s so high pitched and tense that it makes you laugh. Your pussy involuntarily contracts when you laugh, and your whole body slightly jiggles under him, and it makes him yelp and moan again, long and drawn out. “God damn,” he whines, pulling back as if he’s going to back out now.
“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, trying to stop him by the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. “You didn’t make me cum yet. You’re not done here, Chuuya.”
“I’m not but my dick is,” he says, still kind of whiny. “I think you just sucked me dry, I really fucking think you did.” You can’t help but to laugh a little more as he lowers your leg and rolls you onto your back. “It’s only polite--” he says, dropping to his knees “--that I return the favor.” In a flash his tongue is on your pussy, lapping up his cum as it spills out of you. He swallows it without comment, and keeps lapping at your pussy, dipping his tongue into your hole while it’s still nice and open from his cock. You run your hand through his hair again, making sure he can’t pull back too far. You want his whole face in your cunt and you aren’t letting up on this.
His fingers join his mouth, taking over for his tongue in prodding at your hole. They slip inside, twisting together at the same time as they pull in and out. He teases your g-spot every time this way, and the side of his fingers on your sensitive walls feels so so good. You start moaning his name when his tongue swirls around your clit, working relentless circles on it. He intersperses little sucks on it, and once he even dips his nose down and uses it to rub your clit since it’s a bit firmer than his tongue. He eats you out like an absolute fucking champ, shaking his head and blowing out to give you slight vibrating sensations, suckling to give you quick peaks of stimulation, and flicking his tongue back and forth and rolling it in circles to build your orgasm up higher and higher and higher until finally.
“Oh god, Chuuya-- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-- oohhhh Chuuya!!” Your back arches up, your fists close tightly in his hair, and you force his face into your pussy as you cum on his mouth and his fingers, rolling your hips to meet his touches. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps letting you use him as your orgasm rolls and rolls and finally starts to patter out. Only when you let go of his hair does he sit upright, pull his fingers out of you, and suck your cum off of his fingers.
“You’re a lot of fun, you know that?” he asks, standing up, stretching his somewhat sore muscles.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you sigh happily. Your whole body feels weightless and blissful and you aren’t ready to get up yet, even as Chuuya starts getting dressed.
“You dress like this often?”
“Every day off,” you say, finally having enough energy to at least pull your tube top back up to cover your breasts.
“Good. You should come see me again then.”
“You came to see me. And yes, you should come see me again.” You sit up, tilting your head and smiling mischievously at him.
“Guess I didn’t fuck the brat out of you yet,” he mumbles, reaching up to grab your jaw in his hand. “Next time then.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
#ask answered#bsd chuuya#chuuya smut#chuuya x reader#chuuya x reader smut#bungo stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader smut#bsd chuuya smut
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The Chain Game (2/3)
[If anyone knows who I can credit for the above Fanart; PLEASE let me know! This was something sent to me and I haven't been able to track down the artist myself yet...]
Part 2
RadioApple SMUT
Part 1: Here
Part 3: Here
Brainrot into one-shot fanfiction
Rating = 18+
Word Count = 1,726 Words
Ya'll can thank @lily-lilzy-lil for it. She fed me with her kind enthusiasm. Enough so, even that I might already have a part 3 in mind...
“Are we ready for another round?” Lucifer’s voice came from the surrounding darkness.
Alastor hung…kneeling. He was bound tightly by the chains winding across his chest; wrists secured within the links wrapping above his head. The large brimstone shackle was heavy on his neck; the chain to its ring hanging loose and dragging beside him.
“Heh…is that one of the questions?” Alastor smirked, his voice a crackling radio.
A chain slithered from the blackest of shadows; twisting and hissing as it found its way home; curling itself up Alastor’s naked torso and tightening painfully. He hissed as the links burned more brands across his bare, scarred skin.
“Yes.” Lucifer told him, stepping out from concealing shadows. “It was.” He was shirtless – bare-chested – just as Alastor was; his dress pants and shoes the only remnants to the clothing he had been wearing.
Alastor starred at the King’s exposed upper body. The radio demon’s green eyes flared wide – hungry and gleaming – drool seeping from sharpened teeth. The base to each of his antlers thickened; the smooth bone becoming heavy and long as points branched higher and higher above his head.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lucifer asked him. “Still rutting I see…”
The demon growled; a low sound intermingling with the sharp sounds of a radio static.
“And, still losing.” Lucifer sighed, another chain slithering past him to lift and strike out just like a snake; catching and winding itself through the ring to the shackle just at the base of Alastor’s throat. The chain jerked and Alastor’s neck was pulled sharply forward.
“You look like you have sobered up, though.” Lucifer told him; approaching carefully. “Tell me, Alastor…now that my ichor has left your system; are you thirsty for more?”
Lucifer flicked clawed fingers; bringing sharp points against his own bare skin, just at the soft bunch of flesh that stretched across one shoulder. Slicing there, gold blood seeped and spilled from the cut; threading down his chest and abdomen.
Alastor snarled in answer; his eyes flaring brighter, antlers growing longer, his hair standing up – sharp and bristled; overwhelmed by his overpowering need.
“Yes…” The radio to his voice nearly screeching. “…your majesty…”
“Well, now.” Lucifer stepped closer. “Honesty and manners this time. A reward for you…I think.”
A chain dropped from Alastor, winding its way back into the dark as the other chains still supporting him shifted and moved. Alastor’s hands were released but the chains encircling his chest and neck were dragging him backward so that when they found their placements; the radio demon was stretched fully on his back; pinned to the ground. He tried to move; trying even to just to be able to prop himself up in order to see what the King was doing; but the chain tightly secured to his shackle held fast.
Alastor’s ears worked nervously. He was starring up into complete darkness; his body tense with the knowledge that Lucifer meant for him to not know what was coming.
When he felt Lucifer’s hands on his legs - moving them so that they were spread easily wide apart - and the King moved between them, Alastor growled. The sound was low and warning; promising a deadly reciprocation to whatever the fallen angel intended; given the chance…
He felt the King moving, climbing over him so that he leaned across and over Alastor’s chest; his hands supporting his weight from either side of Alastor’s head. Lucifer’s wide golden eyes matched Alastor’s flaring bright green ones; a wicked smile spread across the King’s face as he leaned himself closer to Alastor’s face. Baring his sharp teeth and flattening his ears, Alastor fought to lift his head; meaning to bite. The chain restraining his neck tightened and any give that Alastor had found in it before was now lost.
Laughing, Lucifer smiled down at the sinner demon lying just beneath him.
“I promised you your reward. I keep my promises, Alastor.” Lucifer told him, leaning closer so that they were face-to-face; Lucifer only just out of reach from Alastor’s sharp and pointed teeth. Lucifer tilted his head; fully exposing his still-bleeding wound he had opened across his shoulder.
Alastor’s growling choked in his throat; seeing the golden strands tracing down the King’s chest; sparce warm drops falling onto Alastor’s bare skin. The growling had turned into a brief but desperate whine for relief; Alastor’s clawed hands digging into the ground beside him; finding no purchase – claws cutting grooves into the dark floor.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to use that rather useful tongue of yours.” Lucifer was telling him; leaning back just enough to give Alastor the best angle for full access.
Without a moment for hesitation, Alastor’s tongue lashed from between his bared teeth – long and dripping - it lapped at the streams of golden blood. A groan emitted from Alastor; barbs from his tongue pressing roughly against the fallen angel’s skin as he hungrily scraped for every…last…drop.
Alastor’s eyes started glazing over and Lucifer chuckled.
“You’re not a very fast learner…are you.” Lucifer said darkly. It wasn’t a question. Alastor’s tension was gone. Drunk with the angel’s blood; he retreated his tongue – eyes closing as he let his head fall back.
Leaving him to his buzz; Lucifer crawled back down to kneel between Alastor’s long legs. He began working at the radio demon’s dress pants; reaching just behind the seam at the crotch, finding the bulge within and sliding Alastor’s seeping and engorged cock out.
Alastor shuddered; pleasurably. Gasping at the contact.
“You know,” Lucifer said, holding the large penis in his hand. “I, too, can do some pretty…interesting things with my tongue.” His eyes flared; sharply golden. “Shall I…demonstrate?” He asked in a purr.
“Yes.” Alastor was groaning again. “Your Majesty.”
“That’s my deer…” Lucifer told him.
Using his own tongue now, he let it slither from between his teeth. Just as a snake’s, it stretched and flicked itself so that it tortuously skimmed the underside of Alastor’s cock – touching all along the base and shaft underneath then going to flick at the soft skin along his balls.
Alastor was panting. A redness was spreading across his chest and face; a slick sheen of sweat coating his skin.
Lucifer continued to teasingly flick his tongue all along Alastor’s root; occasionally bringing it around to circle the shaft. The muscle there was tightening quickly.
Pausing briefly, Lucifer adjusted his hold on Alastor’s throbbing penis. “Careful, you don’t want to miss out on the best part.” Snaking his tongue out; Lucifer carefully elongated the shape so that the forks lengthened and thinned. Expertly, he directed the tips to the slit at the head of the slick cock; sliding them inside.
Alastor bucked and Lucifer pressed clawed hands into each hip; holding him steady and he worked his tongue so that it slid in further.
“Ah….” Alastor was lost. The stimulation was too incredible. Timing it perfectly, Lucifer snaked his forked-tongue deeper before slowly retreating it back out. Alastor’s body shook. Removing his tongue entirely; Lucifer took Alastor’s cock fully and quickly into his mouth; biting down sharply just as the organ tightened and sprayed cum.
Softly coiling his tongue all along the twitching cock; Lucifer sucked and swallowed before dropping it limp from his mouth.
Lucifer stood up from where he had been kneeling; there, between the radio demon’s legs.
Alastor laid, still panting and gasping. The deep red color his skin had turned was contrasting the brands of chain links in an interesting way. His clawed hands were shaking and he was drenched in sweat now. His body twitched; still feeling the waves of ecstasy crashing over it.
Lucifer laughed; stepping away to loosen his own dress pants now. He paused; then as if deciding something he slipped out of the remaining clothes entirely.
“You certainly know how to take your…licks.” Lucifer said. “If you actually are in the middle of a rut though…it’s you that could do with some mounting. I suppose you’re in enough of a manageable state that I could allow it.”
Lucifer stepped back to where he had left Alastor; still tightly restrained to the floor.
“What say you?” Lucifer asked him; the chains around Alastor coming loose now but never fully leaving him.
Alastor moved slowly. He was dazed; both from the remnants of ichor and the orgasm. Turning, he went to stand up; then thinking better of it he knelt back to the floor; eyes on the King.
“Your majesty…” Alastor knelt; looking up – compliant.
“Good boy.” Turning away from him – fully naked - Lucifer waved a hand and every chain holding Alastor dropped and went away into the dark; every chain save for the one holding to Alastor’s heavy brimstone collar.
Alastor smiled; standing and going to the King; dragging his chain with him.
Stopping to stand just behind Lucifer, Alastor paused; eyes flaring green, his antlers curling and twisting ever upwards.
“You may…regret this.” He said before he sunk the claws of his left hand into the flesh of Lucifer’s left hip; pulling the angel into him and spilling more blood. His right arm wrapped around the King, his clawed fingers finding his face and mouth; shoving them inside. Snarling; he bit deep into the wound at Lucifer’s shoulder; swallowing hard as golden liquid poured out.
“Ahhhhhh…” Lucifer sunk to his knees and Alastor followed him down. His teeth still buried in the fallen angel’s shoulder; he forced the King down on all fours. Lucifer choked on his fingers; golden blood pooling on the ground from his wounds.
Gasping, Alastor released Lucifer’s shoulder. His vision blurred and darkened; the influence of angelic blood mixing with the influence of his rut. He was already hard again; his erection pressing fully into Lucifer’s bare back.
“Now…my King.” Alastor was purring darkly; sliding his fingers from Lucifer’s mouth. “I will gift to you the most fitting of thrones…”
Lucifer gagged; blood and spit running down his chin.
“Do your worst…my deer.”
--‐‐--‐‐-‐--‐----‐---‐----------‐--‐----------------------------------------------------
Alastor jerked awake; déjà vu catching him even in his ‘half-asleep’ state.
“Oh, what the Hell-” Followed by a sleepy yawn. “What fucking time is it?”
The room was pitch black; then a bedside light came on.
“Uh...” Alastor said, shifting awkwardly in the bed.
“AGAIN!?” Lucifer exclaimed loudly.
“Well…” Alastor replied.
“If this keeps happening, you and you’re one-eyed monster are sleeping somewhere else!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 3
Brainrot credit:
@De Bergerac
The Masochism Tango
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fanfiction#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#alastor x lucifer#alastor and lucifer#radioapple#appleradio#hazbin hotel smut#radioapple smut#my fanfic#the chain game#guess I can write gay smut#and it doesn't JUST do it for me#who knew?
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Platonic Yandere Gojo with sister reader is also plaguing my mind. Just the absolute control he has over her life because he is the most powerful being in the universe, so everyone must listen to him if they want to live. If Gojo tells his clan to lock you in your room, they do. They don't even ask questions, don't bat an eye when you cry and beg to be let out. No, they stand outside and wait for their next command. If Gojo tells them to get rid of so and so person because they looked at you for a second too long, the clan does it with efficiency. If Gojo tells them to make sure you drink enough water, it doesn't matter if you're hydrated, the clan will make sure to hold you down and unintentionally waterboard you as they make sure you drink.
No one is allowed to talk to you, interact with you, not even smile at you unless Gojo tells them. Its all a part of his plan- to isolate you in every way possible until you start becoming insecure and feel like an alien, and then when dear old brother Gojo comes to visit you, you all but wrap yourself around him and practically beg for his attention.
You have an s/o? Maybe he's some poor servant of the clan who fell in love with you and starts dating you secretly. Boy, he was dead meat the moment he had thought of you romantically. But this time, Gojo brings you out to the backyard with him to see how he tortures your s/o to death, holding you tightly when you struggle against him. He knows its cruel, far too gore for your pure mind to see, but he must force you to watch if he wants the lesson to stick.
Never go against ni-chaan's orders.
Big brother Gojo who forbids you from leaving the estate unless he permits you to leave with his most trusted servants or with him. He just wants to keep you safe and allow you to have fun under his watchful gaze. Big brother Gojo who has strictly told you to never use your cursed energy, especially not without him? He says its because he doesnt want you or anyone else to get hurt, but its really because he doesnt want you to be able to leave him.
You try to run away from him, try to leave to country? Hell, Gojo has you on a no flight list, and he even has people at the airport holding you in a room as they wait for Gojo to come and collect you. You can go along with him crying and screaming as he drags you out and make a fool of yourself or you can go quietly as he brings you to his chest, thanking the officers for keeping you safe. Either way, no one will come to your rescue.
The sooner you realise that there is no escaping from him, that he is your only knight in shining armour, your captor and your protector, the only one worthy of your attention, the only person who will give you his attention and love, the only one who will hug you and wipe away the tears (even if he was the who made them spill), the better it will be for your sake (and everyone else's). He may have locked you in your room, chained you up and yes, he will be a jerk to you as most brothers usually are, but once you give up and apologise (you dont know what for, but u apologise), Gojo will free you and let you cling to his arms, shushing you as he allows you to stain his clothes with tears and snot, telling you that he's oh so proud of you for finally coming to your senses and realising your mistake.
"Y/n, shh its okay now. Stop crying, cmon. You know I'm not mad at you. No, you're my little sister. I only have your best interests in mind. I'm the only one who loves you, Y/n."
But while the idea of Gojo not allowing you to date is delicious, what is more intriguing than Gojo trying to set you up with Megumi, a child who he raised/groomed and sweet boy Megumi also has yandere tendencies for you. So, Gojo brings you to Jujutsu High with him so that you can fall in love with his protege Megumi.
You however must be blind because you fall for himbo boy Yuji instead and honestly, a little bit for Sukuna too.
Gojo is just trying not combust into flames, even if he's smiling as he beckons you to come with him (abd away from Yuji). Megumi is just trying not have a meltdown and kill his bff Yuji in jealousy but he forgets all about that when you ask if he'll join you and Gojo for lunch?
Oomph imagine Gojo's reaction when he sees you kiss Yuji for the first time, and you and Yuji remain unaware of Sukuna sticking his tongue out from Yuji's cheek and mocking Gojo. Like unhinged Gojo appears way earlier than he was supposed to, ripping Yuji off you and blasting him off while dragging you to your room to lock you away and its actually more for your safety than his because Gojo is trying very hard to not actually harm you. He needs to blow off steam and what better way than to make Yuji allow Sukuna to take over his body and fight him. And now its upto Megumi to hold back Gojo and stop him from killing his best friend, but perhaps... Megumi could hold that off for a bit so that he could console you. I mean, he needs to be there physically to wipe your tears away. He could always wipe off the blood later... if Yuji's still alive.
Yeah, Gojo wont kill him. Maybe.
#yandere gojo#yandere gojo saturo#yandere gojo satoru#yandere megumi#yandere megumi fushiguro#yandere jjk#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk sukuna#sukuna x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fanfic#gojou satoru x you
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OK, wow, a lot of you really wanted to go for the "good" ending, right? Well, I'm sorry, but there was no good ending. Enjoy my little oddballs! Final word count is about 2,400 words!
Tw: aggression, angst, emotional hurt, vulgarity, physical abuse? Tell me If there are more to add!
This wasn't working. You stood inside your bathroom, propped against the sink as you stared into your own eyes. They just looked so sad now, so hollow. You could remember Simon cupping your cheek as he stared into your eyes under starlight and murmured against your lips how much he loved seeing them light up around him.
What you wouldn't give to have that again. Staring up at the stars with Simon, his fingers brushing through your hair. You missed the soft mumbled apologies whenever he would catch a snag, and the way he focused on you more than any silly constellation.
"Why stars?" You had asked him, on probably the third date where he took you stargazing with either a picnic or just some takeout. I mean, this was Simon after all. Deep, brooding, knew all of the vital organs and arteries on the human body, etc. He didn’t exactly seem like the soft stargazing type, especially with as clumsy as he was at romance.
You were met with a gruff grunt and a shrug at the time. But later, once you two had eaten and were just laying back together, hand in hand, he answered your question. "'S because no matter where I'm deployed, I know I'm always lookin' up at the same sky as you."
You were snapped back to reality by a sharp rap at your door and the voice of a Scottsman who you had began to secretly loathe. "Aye, lass, ya' mind bringin' up the wheely bin? Ghost said he would take the trash out if ya do." A soft sigh was leaving your lips before you could even process his words, turning away from the reflection of your despondent hollow eyes.
Snow crunched under your feet as you trekked out of the garrage to fetch the trash bin from its place next to the mailbox. Cold seeped through the thin layers of your clothing, a frigid therapy to clear your mind and remind you that you were alive. It was uncomfortable, but in the most comfortable and enveloping sort of way. Like a hug that lasts a bit too long from someone who you know just wants to help.
Hugs. You missed those.
Your eyes flicked up to the night sky, moving between the stars like a pachinko ball bouncing off of celestial pegs. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time to put yourself first for a change. The very thought made your stomach twist and churn with guilt, but you were far beyond guilt at this point. It wasn't healthy for you to spend afternoons sitting on your floor with you back pressed against the door so you could just listen to Soap and Simon talk without intruding on their time. It wasn't healthy for you to make yourself dissappear just to please an overgrown child. It wasn't healthy for you to beat yourself up over standing up for yourself and what you needed.
So, this was it. You had to be done. Simon had been given more than enough chances to put you first, and he hadn't taken any of them. Simon had simply stayed off to the side complacently as Johnny pushed you further and further away. So beit then.
Soap won.
You didn't bother packing most of your stuff knowing that it would only make it harder to leave, and if you let yourself think about it too much then you were going to stay trapped, haunting their broken relationship. No.
Your favorite clothes, toiletries, and other things went into your suitcase as you finally decided to free yourself. With every item you packed, it felt like another link was cut from the chain that was wrapped around your neck, trapping you here. And yet, there is terror that comes with freedom. You canceled your phone plan that night and waited until Ghost and Johnny went to bed to make your move.
Guttural grunts and lewd moans were your signal to move, rolling your eyes as you left a single sheet of paper folded neatly on your bed. Neither of them hardly ever came to check on you, so you reckoned that you had at least a week before even Simon noticed your absence. Unless, of course, Johnny noticed your car missing. But, even if he did, it didn't matter. This was it.
"Goodby, Simon. I loved you."
And then you were gone. Tossing your suitcase in the back and driving off into the night. The stars were, and always would be, a painful reminder of Simon. But they say that time heals all wounds. You would just have to test that.
no. No. NO. NO!
Simon's hands trembled as they clutched the small piece of paper from you pillows, eyes tracing over and reading each line until he couldn’t make out the words through the tears welling in his eyes.
Gone. You were gone.
His angel, his sweet, his world, his everything. As much as he tried to fool himself into asking why, he knew the answer.
Simon loved you desperately. After everything that had happened to him, his father, losing his family, being buried alive, being hung by his ribs, all of it; after all of it was when he had met you, and Ghost felt truly alive in a manner he had never felt before.
There were quite a few differences between feeling alive in the heat of battle and feeling alive with someone you love, and yet, both of them made Ghost acutely aware of his pounding heart, both of them made Ghost's stomach twist up in knots, both of them brought blood to Ghost's face.
And Ghost wouldn't have had it any other way. Ghost had spent so long being Ghost, that he was starting to forget who Simon was. But you changed that. A simple holiday with Price, that was all it took for him to meet and fall so ridiculously in love with you that he walked around base with a dopy grin under his Skull balaclava at the thought of you texting him.
As Simon numbly sat on the edge of your bed, clutching so tight to the paper that he was afraid it might shred, your entire relationship flashed before his eyes.
Your first date, your first hug, your first kiss, your first time, When he told you his real name, the first time he took off his mask in front of you, the first time he broke down to you. How could he have been such an idiot?
Simon tired to think back on His and Johnny's relationship in a similar way, but it just wasn't the same. They had been great friends in the task force already, so when they were both captured together, of course that was when things had to change.
Sure, he had fallen for Johnny's kind words and beautiful eyes when they were tied together and bleeding on the cold concrete. Ghost should have known better!! But when the stubborn Scottsman confessed so sweetly so that he wouldn't die with any regrets, well, it was hard not to feel touched.
But they just weren't compatible.
Johnny was loud, immature, selfish, didn't think very far ahead, and he was just so clingy. And, yet the thought of leaving him made Simon's heart ache whenever he thought about it. Johnny didn't treat him like he was in love, but Ghost was sure that Soap loved him in his own way.
But it wasn't worth this. He tried calling you, searching for you, emailing you for the queen's sake! But he found nothing. You had been so isolated that you didn't really have any friends that Simon knew of. He was just lost.
He should have taken the ache of being honest with John over this overwhelmingly hollow torment in his chest. When you left, you took hardly anything, but you took everything from Simon.
The world became colorless, music lost it's rhythm, food lost it's taste, life lost its luster. And Johnny? Well, he became a lot harder to tolerate.
"Did ya hear their makin' a new-" "Not now Johnny." It was like he didn't care. Didn't care that you were gone, didn't care how badly Simon was hurting. "Is this about the lass again? Look, I'm sorry Si, but it's not your fault she didn't care enought-"
"Shut up." Soap looked at Ghost in shock for a moment, a brow quirking up. "What?" "You heard me." Now Johnny's brows were furrowing, his lips setting into that stairght line that meant he was about to win.
Something about Soap? He was impossible to argue with. He would argue in circles to the point where it didn't matter which side he was on as long as he won, which was incredibly frustrating to say the least and made any arguments completely pointless because he would win in the end out of sheer exasperation. It was just easier that way. But not this time.
"Shut. Up." "Look, ya' ken nae go blamin' me for the way she left! She-" Simon was up in an instant, a hand around Soaps throat, effectively shutting him up and pinning him to the wall. Johnny reached up and clawed at his wrist as Simon squeezed just a bit too tight, he could feel Johnny's windpipe being crushed into itself. But he didn't care. Not right now.
"You absolute fuckin' nubty. You just don't get it, do you? Well, seargant, let me spell it out for you, you dense fuck." Simon's eyes were burning, but this wasn't Simon anymore. He could almost feel his balaclava over his face as he glowered down at Soap, eyes filled with disdain and mallace. This was Ghost, someone who hadn't been out to play in years, despite the name sticking around.
Soap winced as Ghost tightened his grip even further, a snarl meeting his lips as he spoke. "She was MINE. And I was hers. We'll use a pie for the sake of your small. Fucking. Brain." Each venomous word was punctuated with a twitch of Ghost's hand, a lingering desire to just squeeze all of the life out of Soap right here and now.
He could see Soaps eyes rolling back as dark spots were inevitably clouding them. That was no good. He had to be awake for what Simon had to say. Ghost loosened his grip just enough to allow Soap the bare minimum of blood and oxygen before delivering a harsh slap across his face with his free hand.
"Ah ah ah sausage, stay with me. So, the pie. She goes and gets a third of the pie because I'm in the military and she doesn't get to see my beautiful mug very often. Then, she hears that I'm coming home for good. She gets all of that delicious pie. Ya' followin' me Johnny?" A strangled nodd. Good. Ghost didn't care about the strangled noises leaving soap or the way that tears pricked his eyes.
"Good boy Johnny. So, she thinks she's getting all of this pie that I am. And then, I come back toting your arse along like some fucking new pet. Well, now she thinks she only gets half of the pie. But she still agrees because she was a fucking angel." Ghost's voice was cold again, filled with the same gruffness that the military had imparted into him.
Ghost hadn't been out in ages. It felt good. Ghost could feel Soaps pulse under his fingers, feel his lifeblood. It was intoxicating. He loved that look of pure terror, missed people looking at him like the monster he was.
"Except, instead of half of the pie, she's still only getting a third, because SOMEONE is a greedy fucking pig. Wonder who that is, Johnny?" Ghost cocked his head to the side as he dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny's neck, reveling in the way that he winced.
"And then what happens? This little piggy goes and takes even more of the fuckin pie. You just keep taking and taking and TAKING until all that was left was fucking crumbs. Do you get it now? You fucking muppet."
Soap nodded furiously as he gripped Ghost's wrist, trying desperately to pull him off. But it wasn't Ghost's fault Johnny hadn't been working out as much. Five years ago he would have at least been able to put up a fight. This was just pathetic to Ghost.
"And so, she lapped at your fucking crumbs like the good girl she was, because she fucking loved me. Do you love me Johnny?" Ghost cut off Soaps nodding with a glare. "I know your cock does, but that's not what I'm asking. Do YOU love me? Because I don't think you do. I think you love having someone complacent to you. You love thinking you have complete control and having everything bend to your fucking whim."
Ghost pulled away finally, letting Soap crumple to the ground coughing and clutching his neck. Ghost just shook his head and made his way to the door, grabbing the keys to his jeep off the rack and his familiar skull balaclava as he did so.
"Pick yourself up. Shits about to change, and I'm done letting you walk all over me. You better hope I find my girl again, or you better be gone when I come back. Your choice Johnny."
It wasn't good, wasn't healthy by any means, but everyone had a breaking point.
And you? What did you do? You lived. Love was definitely off of the table, but you managed to find a place to stay with a nice landlord who helped you find a job in your new small town. A nice older gentleman with sandy chops and a fatherly disposition. He became your best friend. Romance was dead to you at this point, but he was just so gentlemanly and sweet.
Little did you know that Price had forbid Simon and Johnny from your life after what you told him. He was protecting you in more ways than you knew from both the devil you knew and the devil you thought you knew. Simon was ravenous, like a rabbid dog desperately trying to get to you. But Price wasn't going to let him hurt you anymore.
And he didn't.
#soap cod#cod modern warfare#call of duty#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost#soapghost#john soap mactavish#ghoap#fanfiction#x reader#angst#is this a happy ending.#i dont know#but I liked the idea of tying Price i#let me know your thoughts!#my writing#writing#my work
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Hi! I'm kinda new here but I was hoping to leave a request or at least something to chew on. So there's this genshin sagau where the reader has a bit of a language barrier with the other characters and I was wondering if that translated over to the Linked Universe as well? Like imagine the boys finding this random person with different clothes, accessories, and they talk in a language never before heard of? What are they, some kind of eldritch being? Meanwhile reader recognizes them obviously but frustratingly can't express any feelings asides from base concepts! Man.
Some funnies include; reader voicing more thoughts out loud now that no one can really understand them and reader eventually learning the language and getting a really sick accent out of it.
That's all my tired brain can think of atm so I bid you adieu. Have a good rest of your day :)
First Official Request!! :D oh and its amazinggg, ooOOO a language barrier AU, genshin? hm wonder who wrote that
Reader wasn’t specified and ive adopted masc!reader as the normal over here, so masc reader it is 👍
Sun: Masc/Male Reader (”you”/he/him)
Orbit: EXTRA LONG Headcanons-ish/scenarios SORRY 😭, Language Barrier AU my beloved
Stars: The Classic Chain of Links <3
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, typical mild loz violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.
Please comment if I missed any. /gen
so for the sake of even funnier confusion, lets say the boys kinda missed u falling thru a portal, and instead just see the portal, and it disappears w/nothing coming out
(bc u obv are a competent person and clearly recognize the giant horse head stable from Breath of the Wild and went inside, like to orient urself, u will NOT be a Y/N damsel in distress 💀)
the boys had already been heading to that stable to sleep for the night, and needless to say, u nearly have a fit LMAO
first, the Hero of Time walks in, then the Link from Hyrule Warriors, then from Link’s Awakening? Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Link?? Wind Waker Link, Four Sword Link??? The original Legend of Zelda Link-!!!!
well at least u arent the only weirdly dressed person there
(well, u arent weird looking for the hylians in the stable, theyre used to this weird shit, but the Chain of heroes on the other hand…)
they get to observing their bunkmates for the night, subtly squinting at you, then turning to talk to each other, and slowly every link gets made aware of ur prescense, u didnt think u stood out that bad..
(”くいんね しら んらな すいそらきみについ ちみん らは かくちか まいていりすん はすらも んらなす いすち・”) *
it also quickly becomes obvious to every traveler in the stable that you either cant speak, or wont speak, as when ur exchanging money for rupees at the front desk, the owner is accommodating with you by pointing and grunting and ur just nodding and pointing back
well, its not like when u first greeted the guy u understood even a single thing the guy said, it sounded like some sub-dialect of Japanese or something
u had realized earlier with horror that the game was staying true to its creators, and that most likely everyone spoke a special version of Japanese and ur English ass was abt to be so lonely and confused 😭
Wars/Time/Sky/Four in particular clearly noticed u exchanging all ur currency, as u can see them whispering or glancing at you occasionally as u pocket ur now little green gems the size of coins, rather than strip of paper
(”しにし くい まなとかるるる みらか くちひい すなせいいと・ てくら しらいとみゃか くちひい すなせいいと・ かくちか くちとみゃか すいちりりん そくちみきいし らひいす かくい いすちとね くちと にか てにりし・”)
and the boys move on in the morning, and its acc torture for u bc u had no idea how to even begin to quell their suspicions enough to let you travel along with them
u think u could say u came out a portal, but.. how would tell them that? drawing pictures in the dirt?? 💀
and this just keeps happening.
even when u just try to admire from a distance or even outright just leave them to it and go off to explore Hyrule (as safe as u could after acquiring a weapon and some more clothes)
but its like fate (or maybe Hylia tbh) wants u to run into these legendary heroes (both kinda in ur world and definitely here) constantly
after the stable u manage to run into them in Kakariko Village, which wasnt crazy bc u needed more supplies, and it was the nearest town to the stable
ur sure they noticed, but u outright avoided them out of paranoia or making them paranoid u were following them, and u definitely saw who you thought was the hero of the Four Sword whisper about u as u walked by, not that u caught much
(”るるるかくちかゃと かくい とちもい とかすちみきいほりららのにみき きなん はすらも かくい とかちこりいる てい とくらなりし のいいせ ちみ いんい らみ くにもる”)
but you’d started to recognize some Japanese words! …and tbh anime is the only reason for that, something definitely like “watch, him” 💀
which rlly didnt make u feel any better, and u avoided them even harder, u bought a map, so u made sure to head in the opposite direction of them out of, lets be honest, kinda lowkey fear of what theyd do if they thought u were stalking them
but despite u trying to actively go away from them, either you, or them, would show up everywhere the other went,
you passed by Wind playing in the water in Zora’s Domain,
Twilight riding Epona around the plains in Central Hyrule, Sky hanging laundry outside Wild’s house in Hateno
Honest-to-fucking-god seeing Wars, Wild, and Legend all crossdress to sneak into Gerudo village- u cant fucking escape them-
and the worst part is, you cant understand anyone, other than some basic words atp 😭
its as the Chain come from a path that merges onto yours on the way to Rito Village when Legend snaps first
You’re not even surprised, tbh it was more surprising it took them so long 💀
(”にかゃと んらな!! ちきちにみ!!! てくん ちすぃ んらな はらりりらてにみき なと・ くらて ちすぃ んらな はらりりらてにみき なと・・ くらて ちすぃ てぃ はらりりらてにみき んらな・・!!”)
the look on ur face must have drawn some pity from Twilight bc he’s trying to talk Legend out of his yelling and pointing his sword at you,
(”ひいか そちりも しらてみ! りにのい んらな とちにしね に かくにみの ていゃひい ちりとら とらもいくらて こいいみ はらりりらてにみき かくいも からら!”)
Wars joins in, giving you a confused look, before talking to the group at large, most of which have their hands near their weapons, but dont look that inclined to use them, thank the fucking gods or whoever rules over Hyrule-
(”かくい すちみそくいす くちと ち せらにみかね かくにと すいいのと らは もちきにそ ちみし にゃも となすい にかゃと くんりにちゃと しらにみきる てい とくらなりし まなとか かすん から かちりの から かくいもね といい には かくいんゃすい いさせいすにいみそにみき ちみんかくにみき とかすちみきいる”)
oh no. they want to talk you, you barely picked out in their argument
Time nods in agreement, before stepping forward to talk first, you cant even imagine how anxious u look rn lol
(”かくい らかくいすと ちすい すにきくかね かくにと にと りらみき らひいすしないる もん みちもい にと かにもいね ちみし かくいとい ちすい もん かすちひいりにみき そらもせちみにらみとね ちと にゃも となすい んらなゃひい きちかくいすいし はすらも なと すなみみにみき にみから いちそく らかくいす とら もなそくる てくちかゃと んらなす みちもい・”)
why has Hylia forsaken you. what did you do to not receive some sort of fancy natural translator power in ur brain or something after getting portaled here, its the least she could do for fucks sake- talking to someone in a diff. language is SO much harder than just listening to them to understand what theyre saying-
you desperately try to recall the words people have said at stables and whatnot when introducing themselves, before they realized you couldnt speak the same language
(”Uh… もん みちもい にと… and I’m not following you…とらすすん”)
you just try to say ur name and then say sorry LMAO 😭
Nearly every Link is staring at you bug-eyed in shock, confusion, and understanding all at once
the Chain’s attitude changes pretty quick after that, and they quickly connect the dots after, yes, u do a drawing of a portal in the dirt 💀
u gather from the few words u can get that it was indeed magic (probably Hylia) that kept shortcutting you and the group of heroes together over and over again
…
she can move your position in space time and yet she cant get u an auto-translator after being forced to be here.
(in the middle of u drawing to communicate Hyrule manages to understand the gist of what you meant by that and laughs)
the Chain are quick to be very accomdating, Wars/Sky/Wild all offering to try and better teach u their language, but in return they want to learn yours?
actually, that was smth u noticed pretty early on in the ensuing weeks of travel, was the fascination they had w/English and ur voice??
Wind constantly rambled at you and poked and smiled at you to try and get you to ramble back, and after getting more comfortable around them,
u start to talk like they cant understand a word ur saying, which is entirely accurate, and you notice some like to lean in when you talk, or respond with humming/saying smth like u can understand, or even just gesture for u to keep going
Four/Time/Legend?? surprisingly/Hyrule/Twilight like when u get rlly talkative like ur having a one-sided convo w/them all the time, and they constantly are looking at you poinetedly to hear u narrate whatever ur doing or give a response whenever they same something at you (Rulie/Four/Twi/ and sometimes Time, (and he turns away but Legend too) give a little smile whenever you ramble)
Wild is Very Interested in your langauage, bc the Zora, Rito, Gerudo, and Gorons all had their native tongue that he ended up learning, and so he constantly makes notes to try and decipher some of what ur saying in English
he lights up anytime ur able to successfully tell him another something abt it, like the alphabet, or grammar or structure etc
they seem to pay attention esp in the mornings or late at night? ur not sure why until Wind both draw pictures and tries to get the general idea to you to explain
(”かくいんゃすい ちりり きちんる んらなす ちそそいみか にと くらか ちみし んらなす ひらにそい にと しいいせる かくいんゃすい ていちのる”)
smth abt ur voice being nice? deep? but theirs do that too? u dont get it, but thank him anyway
they also help u out at markets, keep out of trouble w/locals, and other misc tasks that need some language help
everythings going great, the Chain trusts you, ur getting better at their language every day, and bc English is one of the hardest languages to learn in the world, theyre slowly getting some of urs!
it isnt until ur camping out in the Temple of Time when things get weird again
Not only is there English carved into the walls, which u read as the Chain give u “explain now” looks and u communicate that the rlly ancient looking script they may or may not be able to read is, in fact, the written version of ur language-
but then another portal opens, and there’s sentences wrapped around the edges, which are fully in English too.
☆
* = hint: JIS
So i love ciphers for language barrier AUs, so have a cypher! have fun decoding it if u like, but don’t worry abt translating it, as its purposefully not important for u to enjoy this :)
JFC IM SO SORRY AB THE LENGTH I WROTE THIS FROM MIDNIGHT TO LIKE 1:30 AM- UGH sometimes this happens when i get on a scenario kick, SORRY 😭😭
also so sorry abt late reply! at least i already established im slow w/u guys so ig its not a huge surprise 😭
tysm for the request it was such a fun idea to write abt :D
i also like genshin, just a little bit u could say, so it was cool to see this carryover across fandoms lol
language barrier is so versatile, could be angst, crack, etc. so that makes sense
have a great weekend!!
Peace out,
🌙
#linked universe x reader#lu x reader#male reader#lu x male reader#linked universe reader#link x reader#loz link x reader#linked universe male reader#lu reader language barrier au#lu language barrier au#bro i acc went Mad on this one#im so sorry??#i dont even think???#i got to everything u mentioned in the ask???#bro the demons rlly took over#they were like “oh u wanna write into the night and a.m?? bet”#fucking monster#i dont even remember some of this lookin over it rn#i hope u get something out of this 😭#im so sorry if it was rough 🥲#moon asks
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Hi! I was wondering if u can write how simon ghost riley reacts to if u want to fem!reader being all dolled up for an event or sumn. you imagine the rest 😭😭😭😭😭. love ur writing btw 🙏
A Day for First’s and Adding a Second
Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x wife fem!reader
Summary: It’s your and Simon’s son’s kindergarten graduation so you have to dress nicely and Simon loves it. Also a little surprise at the end.
Word Count: 1,686
Warnings: slightly NSFW (grinding while fully clothed) so 18+, established relationship, fluff at the end, reader is called love once, Simon being all hot and bothered, Price is your dad 🫣, pregnancy mentioned towards the end, is fem!reader and should be POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡
Notes: This is my first Simon fic and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. Part of me adores it and the other thinks it’s trash, either way I wanted to respond to this request as it’s so sweet and the idea is adorable. I hope I was able to do your request justice my love! Also flashback are in italics.
You don’t often dress fancy but today your and Simon’s son was going to be graduating kindergarten. He goes to a private school at the moment so there were certain expectations and dress codes that you had to follow whether you wanted to or not.
The kids were all to wear navy blues and the parents were all to wear white or black. Everyone dressing formally.
You were currently getting ready in yours and Simons shared bathroom while Simon was helping your son finish getting ready.
You decided pretty quickly that while you would’ve loved to wear a white dress, being around children for up to three hours did not go well with the color white.
So you went with a black dress that reached right above your knees with loose sleeves that went down your arms to help make sure that you wouldn’t be cold with a neckline that was set right above your chest. The dress wasn’t to form fitting so that you would be able to sit for an hour or two without being uncomfortable or feeling constricted.
You were just finishing up your preferred makeup look when there was a light tap at the bathroom door.
You call out a small come in but start digging through the jewelry box on the counter that Simon had slowly been filling up over the years that you had been together no matter how much you protested against it.
You heard the door click open but didn’t hear Simon come in but you could feel his presence there, you always could.
“Hey Si, which necklace do you think I should wear?” You’re holding a necklace in each hand. The one in your right hand was the first necklace he had ever gotten you for your 6 month anniversary. It had two pear-shaped diamonds at the center surrounded by round-cut diamonds on a sterling silver chain.
The one in your left was a necklace that had been passed down through your family line and not too long ago your dad gifted it to you as a birthday present. It has 20 round shaped diamonds and in the center sits an oval shaped diamond with a white gold setting on a Singapore chain.
You usually didn’t have a hard time choosing a piece of jewelry but today you were slightly conflicted and his silence wasn’t helping.
You finally look up from the jewelry in your hand to look into the mirror and find Simon leaning against the bathroom door frame in an all black suit with gloves to match. He usually wears a black face mask out in public but he doesn’t have it on yet leaving it off until you were all ready to leave.
You feel his gaze slide along your body leaving a hot trail in its wake and you patiently wait until his eyes connect with yours in the mirror. Once they do you can’t help the sharp breath that escapes your mouth from the intense look he is holding in his dark brown hues.
A hum starts in your core when he steps towards you in three large steps and slightly leans his weight into you causing you to lean over the counter slightly.
You squeeze your eyes shut relishing in the heat surrounding you. Your lips part in a silent gasp when he slides his hand down your spine leaving it to settle on your hip and in the same moment runs his mouth along the arch of your neck and up to your ear.
“If we didn’t have somewhere to be I would take my time ravishing you against this sink.” His deep voice wraps around your body making goosebumps trail the lengths of your arms.
The impact of his words on your hazy brain makes you grind back against him, he lets out a small groan and rocks his hips into you while tightening his grip on your hip and pulling you back against him causing the perfect amount of friction.
You’re both lost in the moment trying to keep your moans and his grunts as quiet as possible so that your son didn’t hear.
Your body is getting hotter the longer you both claw at each other. It has been too long since the last time you’ve had the chance to feel each other's skin without being interrupted. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his breath is puffing at your ear and he’s pulling you into him harder and harder, almost lifting your feet up off the ground.
Your ears are starting to ring from the pleasure and the rope in your stomach that is pulling taut when you hear little feet running across the house combined with giggling when you yank yourself away from Simon and open your eyes for the first time since this whole ordeal started.
You're busy trying to fix your dress and Simon is adjusting the bugle in his slacks when you hear the running stop outside yours and Simon's shared room before picking up again and the giggling sounding farther away.
He’s staring at you again when you look up at him making the fire in your body that was slowly sizzling out to start up again.
“The one your dad gave you.” You look at him confused for a moment and he smirks lightly, “the necklace.”
You look over at the two necklaces that had been carelessly tossed onto the counter during your moment. You pick up the necklace he said and offer it to him while moving your hair out of the way making your neck available for him.
You face the mirror and once he’s behind you you look into his eyes in the mirror, “Speaking of my dad,” you let out a sigh,”he offered to babysit tonight.”
He pauses mid wrapping the chain around your neck, his eyebrows lifting, “Price actually offered to watch him?”
You roll your eyes, “How many years have we been together and how old is our son now? I’m pretty sure my dad being mad at you is gone by now.”
He latches the necklace and slides his hand around you to grip your chin making sure your eyes stay connected in the mirror, “I don’t know,” he moves his mouth right up against your ear making you shiver, “I can still hear how mad he was when he found out his lieutenant was doing more than helping his captain's daughter move into her new flat.”
You sigh, mind flashing back to the day that all the tension between you and Simon finally snapped.
You had found a flat to finally move into and your dad was supposed to help you but something came up at work that was a bit more important so he sent over a man he knew he could rely on. What he didn’t know is that you and Simon had been fighting the urge to give into one another and you two being alone all day? It was bound to happen.
Price had walked in when Simon was helping you put the last of the furniture in which was your couch. You weren’t in a compromising position or anything but your neck was littered with love bites. You had a glow to you that you didn’t have that morning when you saw Price, and you were wearing Simon’s shirt leaving him with just a black wife beater on.
The man flew into a rage slamming his fist into Simon's face and a shocked Soap was left gawking until he kicked into gear yanking his captain up off of his lieutenant which was not an easy feat.
Simon didn’t fight back one bit as he knew that this was the reaction he was going to get. The captain had made one rule with his team, “Don’t touch my fucking daughter.”
It took months for your dad to even be okay with seeing you together at all. He could see how in love with each other you were and so the day Simon asked for his blessing he of course said yes.
You're pulled out of your thoughts from Simon sighing into your neck and gently kissing a sensitive spot. “Was thinking we could maybe make your favorite dinner and watch a movie?”
He nods, stepping away from you, “sounds good to me love.”
You give him a smirk in the mirror, “I also have a surprise for you.”
His eyes glide over you again focusing on how the dress hugs you in all the right places, “oh really? I’m going to hold you to that so no getting all cuddled up in my lap and falling asleep early.”
You know he’s teasing so you snort and roll your eyes before shooing him out of the bathroom trying to keep a knowing smile hidden, “I’m almost ready so why don’t you go get our little energy ball in his car seat.”
He gives you a quick kiss before walking out of the room and you hear him calling for your son. You listen for a moment to make sure he won’t be coming back and once you're sure you pull out a little key to unlock a part of the jewelry box.
You dig your hand into the open drawer and pull out a light blue rectangle box with a pink ribbon tied around it. Inside the box were three positive pregnancy tests. You wanted to be sure and didn’t want to get your hopes up so you wanted to take more than one.
You were so excited to tell him about the pregnancy as a few weeks ago he came to you asking if you would ever want another baby. You were hoping for a little girl this time around, the perfect addition to your family of three. Adding a second bundle of joy to your lives.
You hear Simon calling into the house for you and you yell back that you were coming. You put the little box back into the drawer and grab your purse and leave the room thinking about how your life is so different than what you thought it would be and honestly you couldn’t be happier.
Hi my lovelies, I hope you liked this little fic! I wasn’t sure how to go about the ending so personally don’t know how to feel about it and would love some feed back. Anyways I hope you all have amazing days <3
Requests are open! I can not promise when or if I will write them but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them a little bit easier to write but it’s not required. Thanks for reading my darlings ♡
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#task force 141#simon riley#captain john price#Price is your dad#mw2#cod#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley x you#fem!reader#wife fem!reader#simon riley x wife!reader#ghost cod#random0lover my writing
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑
Pairing: Eddie x GN!Reader
Summary: It's not the first time Eddie has found his locker smeared but it's the first time someone has cleaned it for him.
Warnings: mention of dead animal
Freak.
It was written in large, red letters, it could be seen from across the hallway, and immediately attracted the attention of uninvolved students and teachers who didn't care if one of their students was being made fun of. It looked like they used that usual spray paint that took days to wear off, even though Eddie tried to clean it with everything he had.
He should have known something was wrong when the students started looking at him weirder than usual after he parked his van outside the school.
It wasn't the first time that Jason and his friends had left some nice compliment written, drawn or engraved with a pocketknife (which by the way was forbidden at school) or scissors, on Eddie's locker.
He was almost used to it, he didn't quite know how to feel about it.
Was he sad? Was he angry? Maybe he was just so fucking tired.
When he reached it he could feel the eyes of all the students in the hallway on him, as if they were expecting a sudden reaction from him, and he could smell the spray still fresh and slightly dripping, making the writing harder to read and more similar to blood.
At least there wasn't any dead animals inside the locker like last time. He had had to find a place in the woods behind the school to bury the poor little bird under the rain, he had come home a few hours late and his curly hair were completely soaked and stuck to his forehead and neck.
When his uncle asked what had happened Eddie simply said that the van had had some problems and didn't want to start.
"Freak" was the first word that caught the eye but he could also read "trailer trash" and "devil worshepper" with an upside-down pentacle drawn next to it.
Eddie almost laughed at the misspelling, opened his smeared locker, grabbed his chemistry textbook, and headed for the day's first boring class, walking past the group of jocks and cheerleaders who were staring at him. One of them whispered something in another's ear and they both laughed.
Eddie caught Jason's eye, who was looking at him innocently as if none of that was his fault.
"Worshepper is spelled with an i, asshole."
No one had time to argue.
He was already gone.
At the end of the day, after stopping to talk to Gareth for a few moments about a song they were working on, Eddie returned to his locker.
None of the teachers had said anything about the state of it, although most of them knew what had happened or were aware that it was often vandalized.
Not that Eddie needed anyone's help, but he found himself thinking that if it happened to anyone else, things would have been different and they would punish the guilty one.
But when it happened to him? The one who always got bad grades, the one who lived in a trailer and had his dad in prison? The one who was said to be a satanist and sacrificed goats in the woods on full moon nights? Nobody cared.
By all accounts, he'd probably done something to deserve it.
At that moment most of the students had already gone home and the few who were still in school were either in the gym, in the theater or chatting in the parking lot.
And that's why he didn't expect to find someone right in front of his locker.
His clean locker.
You had a concentrated expression painted on your face, in one hand you held a cloth that you were rubbing against its surface now without any paint stains and in the other a bottle that Eddie couldn't quite figure out what contained.
He slowly crept around the corner of the corridor, watching the last scene he ever expected to be in front of.
It was the first time anyone had done that for him.
"You know I heard you coming, right?" You said without looking up from the locker.
A faint tinge of red appeared on Eddie's cheeks as he came out.
"It's hard not to hear you with those." You pointed to the chains hanging from his belt before stepping back and admiring your work.
"Oh, right." Eddie muttered, still unsure of your intentions.
"I'm Y/N by the way." You introduced yourself.
He's never talked to you before but he's seen you around.
Over time he realized that you weren't part of a specific group: you chatted with Buckley during lunch, you used to hang out with Jonathan Byers before he moved and for some weird reason Dustin always said hi to you when he saw you in the corridor and you did the same.
Okay, you were probably not one of the most popular in school.
"Earth to Eddie!" You laughed shaking your hand in front of his face.
"Yeah, right. Sorry."
"I asked you what you think of it." You pointed to the locker and he walked over to it.
"I think it looks great. Why did you do it?"
"It looked like it needed a clean." You shrugged, as if you hadn't spent at least an hour cleaning a locker that wasn't even yours.
As if you weren't one of the few people to be nice to him, as if you hadn't helped him without wanting anything in return like hardly anyone had in his life.
"It did. Thank you."
You smiled and handed him the bottle you had used. "It's nail polish remover with acetone. There's not much of it anymore but…it can come in handy in situations like this."
"Thanks. Wait, why did you have this at school?"
"I used it to clean up a mess with some paint in the room where we create theater stuff."
"Oh, are you a theater kid?"
"Nah, I just make stuff they need. Guns out of plastic bottles, swords out of foil, the usual."
"Oh my god." Eddie muttered, in mixed realization and admiration.
"What?"
"I think you made Timotheus The Creator's sword."
You looked at him as confused as possible.
"Who?"
"During our last Dungeons & Dragons campaign we used a sword found in the theater. It had a golden handle and a shining blade and I couldn't resist. She was a masterpiece."
You chuckled. "Yeah, well I think I made it. Glad you guys liked it."
"Liked it? I'm basically talking to a celebrity!"
You laughed again, no one was really noticing how much you were both enjoying that silly conversation.
"You know, and i'm saying that in the best possible way, you are kind of a weirdo. Why didn't we talk earlier?" Only after he had said those words did Eddie realize that you might have been offended but when he heard the sound of your laughter again his heart started beating again.
He had just found you but never wanted to lose you.
"Probably because I spend every free moment in the theater laboratory. You could come by and say hi sometime, I think you'd like it there. There's a lot of cool stuff."
"Can I steal something for DnD?" he asked hopefully, a huge smile on his lips.
"Borrow." You corrected him.
"Deal."
Glancing at the clock on the wall, you realized it was later than you thought. "I'm sorry but I really gotta go now, my parents will kill me if I'm late again."
"Sure, yeah" He nodded, "see you tomorrow?"
You smiled one last time as you started walking towards the exit. "See you tomorrow."
He stared after you until he couldn't anymore then looked at his locker, running his ringed hand over its clean surface.
He sighed.
Fuck.
He was in love.
Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea
#this kinda sucks 🤷♀️#eddie x reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fluff#eddie fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction
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Wardrobe Essentials Guide !!
This is only a guide- you don’t need everything I list. This is just to help people build their dream wardrobe sensibly without over or under consuming or to recognize what they may want/need.
Solid colour does not mean there can be no pattern on your clothes!! It just means avoid shapes, text, pictures etc on your clothes!!
Before purchasing ANYTHING ask yourself these 3 questions!!
How can I style this?
Is there an opportunity cost?
Will I still be able to wear it in 3+ years, even if my style changes?
TOPS
2 solid colour long sleeve tops
2 solid colour short sleeve tops
2 solid colour tank top
2 solid colour cami top
2 underneath ‘layers’ tops
1 athletic wear top
1 white button up ( make it as plain as possible)
2+ graphic tee of your choice ( for funsies )
1 cute bodysuit of your choice
1+ knitwear solid colour top
3+ statement piece tops of ur liking
BOTTOMS
1 good pair of jeans you like
2 leggings solid colour!!!
2 sweatpants
2 track shorts
2 basic long pants solid colour ( for going out more formally/extra)
2 biker shorts solid colour
1 cargos pants solid colour
1 denim shorts
2 mini skirts ( or longer )
1 midi/maxi skirt
1 pencil black skirt ( formal events )
1 athletic wear bottoms
3+ statement pieces of your liking
DRESSES / FULL BODY
1 black mini dress (trust me)
1 solid colour maxi dress
1 solid colour mini dress
1 solid colour jumpsuit (short or long)
1 solid colour 2 piece outfit
1+ statement pieces of your liking
OUTERWEAR
1 white cardigan ( can be cropped)
1 black cardigan ( can be cropped)
2 solid colour zip up jackets
2 solid colour sweaters
1 solid colour puffer jacket
1 solid colour blazer
1+ statement piece of your liking
SLEEP/LOUNGEWEAR
1 cute pair of summer pjs
1 cute pair of winter pjs
2 sleeping tops
2 sleeping bottoms
1 satin OR cotton robe
2 cute loungewear sets
UNDERWEAR & BRAS
2 your skin colour t-shirt bras
2 solid colour sport bras
1 black t-shirt bra
1 white t-shirt bra
2+ your skin colour bikini underwear
2+ your skin colour slip underwear
2+ solid colour hipster underwear
2+ solid colour classic underwear
1+ maxi underwear
OTHER AKA OPTIONAL
1 cute swimwear set
1 cute activewear set
SHOES
1 plain white sneakers ( can be chunky)
1+ white sneakers with statement colours
1 cute pair of ugg boots
1 nude pair of heels of your choice
1 white pair of heels of your choice
1 black pair of heels of your choice
1 white OR black boots
1 black, nude OR white pair of loafers
1 pair of solid colour sandals OR FLATS
2+ statement pieces of your choice
BAGS
1 black shoulder OR crossbody
1 white shoulder OR crossbody
1 brown shoulder OR crossbody
1 solid colour tote bag ( not the shopping ones)
1 solid colour clutch
1 solid colour backpack
JEWELLERY ( ALL ARE EITHER SLIVER OR GOLD YOU CAN CHOOSE )
small OR big hoops
5 cute studs
5 dangling earrings
2 necklaces
4 rings
4 bracelets
1 good quality watch
APPAREL ACCESSORIES
2+ black belts
2+ solid colour scarves
1+ solid colour gloves
1+ solid colour beanies
2+ solid colour hats of ur liking
2+ apparel chains
2+ solid colour sunglasses
Andddd thats it lovelies!!! Reminder to spend and consume responsibly, don’t shop fast fashion please!! Clothes suck and its so bad for the environment. Is there anything that you think I should add to this list, or anything to remove and why? Also if you don’t know why something is on this list, ask me pls!!!!
Should I make an skincare or make up bag essentials guide next ???
#femininity#high maintenance#pretty privilege#dream life#fashion#high value mindset#dream girl#it girl#that girl#glow up#self improvement#self development#clothes#clothing#accessory#pink pilates girl#pink pilates princess#pinterest#aesthetic#wardrobe#feminine journey#cute#level up journey#leveling up#the feminine urge#becoming that girl#girlblogging#clean girl#guide#tips
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