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cys-fic-library · 9 hours

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Nighttime Affairs (The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, bit of orgasm denial, bit of dirty talking, creampie, biting (its cooper i dunno what you expect, he's going to bite you), oral - reader receiving, complicated relationship, bit of yearning/pinning, fluff, cuddling, kissing, splash of angst, not beta read

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x gn!afab!Reader (reader's gender is never mentioned but they do have a vagina)

Wordcount: 4256

a/n: made the smut a bit angsty at the end there by mistake. whoopsie daisies. Anyway, like it says above readers gender is never mentioned. But they do have a vagina (because I have a vagina, and I want to fuck the ghoul). Nothing about reader's chest is ever mentioned either. Also I usually write fluff/non smut fics, and only tend to post that. I have written smut before, but this is just my first time actually sharing some of it. So like ;-; Okie dokie? okie dokie.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics (much love j ❤️)

Nights in the wasteland were always a deadly affair. All sort of creatures made themselves known—both human and non-human alike—never having the friendliest of tendencies. It was why you always made sure that your windows remained boarded up. Double checking the door of your home to be firmly locked, before finally making your way to bed.

You always kept a gun hidden beneath your pillow as you slept. Easy to grab in case of a break in. Acting like a sort of safety blanket. Hoping that such a comfort would help you sleep soundly, though most nights you still found it difficult. Restlessness haunted you. Plagued your mind. Never truly able to rest easily—not with danger lurking around ever dark corner.

Sometimes that unease proved helpful. Such as tonight, while on the brink of sweet slumber, there had been a shift in the room. The sound of worn floorboards creaking jolting you awake. It wouldn’t be the first time some wanderer had tried to get the jump on you in the middle of the night.

Hand quick to grab your gun, you point it at the new body in the room. Adrenaline pumping in your veins. Heart on edge. Ready to fire at a moment's notice.

“Easy there sweetheart.”

Your tired eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to clear away your sleep clouded vision enough to properly comprehend the familiar figure currently standing in the center of your tiny room.

“Cooper?”

The Ghoul grinned at you in the darkness. Hazel eyes almost seeming to shine from the moonlight that managed to filter in. His head had tilted to motion to the gun in your hand. An amused hum leaving him. “Bit of a rude way to greet your guests.”

“Wouldn’t call you much of a guest.” You lowered the gun and rubbed at your face with a sigh. “More of a nuisance if anything.”

“Aw, your words wound me darlin’.” His words drawn out and mocking, as he feigned being hurt, before he had turned from you to continue removing his gear. Setting it all wherever he liked in your room. Acting almost as if he owned the place. Not a care in the world that he was currently invading your home uninvited. Again.

You could only seem to roll your eyes as you watched him. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Oh just passin’ through.” The Ghoul said with a casual hum. Pulling out his own gun, its barrel glinting just as his gaze had earlier, before he set it on your nightstand. The tossing of his hat onto your bedpost quickly following. “Needed a place to stay.”

It hadn’t been a question. He wasn’t asking. Never really did when he chose to invite himself into your home. It used to scare you way back when you first met the Ghoul. You never knew if the next time he came would be the one where you met with a bullet.

But you learned quickly that Cooper only ever did what he felt he needed to. Wouldn’t take the life of someone he found to be useful. He didn’t kill pointlessly like that. Everything had a reason with him. Even if you couldn’t quite see it at first.

“Well why don’t just make yourself at home then.” You grumbled. Annoyed. A bit more bite to your words then usual. Though it hadn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest.

“Already on it sweetheart.”

You glared at him, but he continued to barely pay any mind to it. As you went to put your own gun back beneath the pillow, you had laid down again. Rolling to face the wall, and letting out a tired breath, as you tried to settle. Let the exhaustion claw at your mind and allow your eyes to flutter close. Trying to ignore him just as he did to you. “Just don’t make a mess.”

The Ghoul hadn’t replied. Which had been a surprise. He always seemed to have something to say. But there was none of that. Instead there was only the sound of more shuffling in the room before the bed finally shifted with his added weight. Pulling you back from the brink of sleep just enough, as he joined you among the tattered sheets.

Your bed was cramped. Meant for only a single soul, and yet that never seemed to bother him as he fit himself in how he liked. It didn’t take very long for you to feel the press of his cool body against yours. An arm finding itself around your waist, as lips sought out your neck and trailed over your skin.

“Sleeping.” You said. Quiet. But still you shifted. Legs parting ever so slightly. An invitation you knew he wouldn’t refuse.

You allowed him to take what he wanted—his true reason for being here—and he did so greedily. Without any ounce of hesitation, bare fingers smoothing down and slipping past the waistband of your pants into their front. Immediately finding the prize he wanted. Your breath hitching as they ghosted over your clit. Teasing.

“Then sleep.” Lips caressed your ear. His breath hot on your skin. Rough hands had molded you into his liking. Feeling yourself growing wet beneath his fingers all too quickly, as two of them slipped into your heat at first chance. “Don’t bother me, none.”

Desire bloomed inside you. Arousal coiling tight. He left marks where he could. Harsh kisses that had teeth grazing your skin. Fingers moving inside of you to pull any sound from your lips that he could. Touching you in ways that had you burning, as if you would be engulfed in flames at any second. Toying with your body and purposely bringing you so close to the edge without ever actually bothering to send you over.

“Stop teasing.” You had shifted again. Trying to provide more space for his devilish hands. Moving yourself against him to seek the feeling you so desired—that last bit of pleasure that he denied you so easily, and would continue to do so.

“I thought you were sleeping.” His words had a teasing tone to their depths, as he nipped at your skin. Pressing himself closer. Grinding. His own arousal hard against your hip. Just as worked up as you were it seemed. But somehow still not nearly as desperate.

“Was trying to.” You sighed out a moan. Leaning impossibly close into him. Hand gripping at his wrist tight as he worked you. Letting his touch consume your very being. “Hard to sleep with someone messing around in my pants.”

The Ghoul chuckled. “Well let’s fix that then.”

And suddenly his hands were slipping away.

You felt your eyes open at the loss of him. Hadn’t even realized they were still closed until that moment. You had gone to protest. Reaching out in the darkness to try and stop him from leaving. But he hadn’t gone far. He had moved you to lay fully onto your back before you could really react. Your pants and underwear removed by him in an instant. Lost to the dark depth of your room's floor. Not to be seen again until morning light.

The Ghoul loomed over you. Eyes amused, and hands gripping your thighs. He spreads your legs out for himself wide. Exposing your arosural bare before his gaze into the open room. Fitting himself comfortably in between. Almost like there was nowhere else he belonged in the world. Ready to devour you whole.

And what was worse is that you’d gladly let him do so too.

“Fucking filthy thing you are.” He had whistled as he looked down at the debauched display he had made of you already. Fingers moving below to run along your dripping lips. Sending another shiver of pleasure up your spine. “You’re soaking and yet I’ve barely done a thing.”

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit beneath him. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his own clothes, save for the jacket and gloves he must have tossed somewhere in your room. He never really did remove his clothes when fucked you. Couldn’t remember anytime you had even seen him without a shirt.

At first you thought he had been shy over his predicament. He wouldn’t have been the first ghoul you met to have struggled with the change after all. But that had been a foolish thought, because Cooper Howard wasn’t ever shy. It was just another thing he couldn’t be bothered with.

It wasn’t worth it to him to remove, simply put. Probably even still had his boots on at the moment. Trucking sand and only god knows what into your bed. You’d usually lecture him for it. But like with many things tonight, he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Before you knew it he had leaned down to put his mouth on you. Sucking at your clit. Lips and tongue working you in all the right places. Fingers gripping your thighs to keep you open for him. Devouring you whole, almost like he had been starved for days.

It didn’t take much of this for you to be brought to that edge. It had been so long since you last saw him—last had him—and his skillful tongue had your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your one hand fisting the sheets below while the other reached for his scarred head. Pulling him in impossibly close. Trying to keep him there. But true to his nature just as you felt those sparks begin to fly he stopped. Lips leaving you and letting your pleasure fall. Hot breath only fanning over your soaked folds.

He did this often. Riled you up to the point of breaking. Allowing your pleasure to grow high before sending it crashing down again suddenly. Denying that bliss you always found yourself so desperate for when with him.

Most nights you were brought to tears by it. Begging him to let you have that sweet release. Frustration with his teasing at its peak. Tonight you did not beg or plead though, not yet at least, instead you sat up to lean onto your elbows. Insult for him at the tip of your tongue, ready to lecture him for all he was worth, but any complaint you had quickly died in your throat.

The Ghoul had bit your thigh. Hard. Whether to silence you, or just because he wanted to, you didn’t know. You just gasped. Trying to pull away, though his hands remained firm. Fingers digging into your skin almost too harshly and holding you in place. Only finally pulling back just enough to swipe his tongue over the mark he left.

You had winced from the pain, the mark aching, but despite it your arousal only seemed to course through you still. Stronger even. “That was just mean.”

“You like when I’m mean.” He smirked as he sat up again to overlook you. Your blood still staining his lips. “Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping. Remember?”

“Yeah and who’s fault is it that I’m not?”

“No idea what you mean sweetheart.” The Ghoul had let go of your legs then. Leaning back onto his knees to free himself. Belt unbuckling to pull out his aching cock. Squeezing himself briefly before guiding it to your drenched hole. Teasing at your folds. “Just here enjoying what was given to me after all.”

It was quick the way he entered. No ceremony or grace. No time to say another single word between you two. Barely gave time for you to gasp again. Sending a shock through your system. He didn’t wait. Thrusts downright filthy as he took you all for himself. Both of your moans and heated breaths filling the room. The air suddenly feeling suffocating and hot.

Your hands had gripped at his forearms, hoping to ground yourself and failing miserably, all while his own fingers dug into your hips. You tried to meet his own cruel thrusts, but the rhythm he had set was unrelenting. Pleasure all too consuming. He was right. You liked when he was mean. Liked how rough he was—enjoying how he just took and took from you. He filled you in ways that you knew ruined you for anyone else. And yet still you loved it all so very much.

You were getting close again. Could feel your peak just at the horizon. Waiting to burst. You moved your hand. Fingers desperate to finally bring yourself that last bit of pleasure to send you over the edge that you’ve desired all night. The one he’s been denying you all evening. But of course he notices immediately. Knocking your hand away before you get any chance.

“Not yet.”

You all but whine at his words. Almost pathetically so. Tears finally prickling at the corner of your eyes from being denied by him once again. “Cooper.”

“You know the rules.” He thrusts a little more roughly as if to punish you. A warning. “You take what I give you.”

“Please.”

“Look at you, the mess you are.” He groans out at your begging. Eyes burning hot with desire. Thrusts still unwavering. “You’d let me do whatever I want to you if it meant I fucked you, wouldn’t you?”

He had chuckled as you could only seem to nod. Clinging to him. Any kind of words from your lips caught between gasps and moans. You were so overwhelmed. The air was too hot. Everything felt too much but too little at the same time. And it was all because of him. The Ghoul who seemed all too good at taking you apart piece by piece. The mess you were was his fault, and he knew it—reveled in it.

You could never seem to get enough of him, and he knew it too. He could give you everything or nothing, and you’d still thank him for each little bit of it. He was the same. Even if he would never admit it. He always needed more of you. Both of you were addicted to the other. Needed to feel him just like he needed to feel you. Like a chem neither of you could shake. Didn’t want to shake.

Cooper’s thrusts had begun to grow sloppy now. His breathing more ragged. Hands squeezing your hips so tightly you were sure to bruise by morning. Your head was swimming. Drowning in the pleasure and losing it in the feeling of him. Mind too far gone to think of anything else. A mere mess of moans and gasps, as tears streamed down your cheeks. So close to unraveling at the seams for him. All just for him.

When he reached his end he didn’t give you any kind of warning save for a low moaned fuck. Making sure to thrust into you deeply. As far as he could go. His cum filling you to the brim as he did. It was only then when his fingers found your clit again. Rubbing the nub in harsh brutal circles that finally sent you crashing over as well. Ripping your orgasm from your body like he was owed nothing less.

“There you are, take all of me.” He groaned out as you squeezed and clenched around him. Breathless. Eyes watching how you came undone. Making sure to take in every bit of you that he could as you lost it beneath him. “Come for me darlin’.”

Your nerves felt on edge as the pleasure wrecked through your system. Body shaking while you could only seem to cling to him tighter. Hands fisted into his shirt and your legs squeezing around his hips, trapping his form to yours all while riding out your orgasm.

It wouldn’t be until the high began to dwindle where your mind would begin to clear again. A gentle throb at your core. Your body relaxed in his arms, limbs growing heavy, and breath beginning to return. The night's air starting to feel cool against your heated skin.

He hadn’t pulled out yet. Just stayed inside with the mess he made, as you both came down from your pleasure. Your oversensitive walls still clinging to his softening cock despite how completely wrecked you felt. Eventually you had almost felt sticky laying there—covered in your own sweat and grim. You tried to move away. Trying to free yourself from his grasp, but the hand he still had on your hip stopped you. Squeezing gently.

“Cooper-” You had begun to question him, eyes fluttering open and looking to Ghoul who still hovered above, but found yourself unable to finish when you finally met his gaze. Breath and words caught in your throat all over again.

Intense. Soft. There was a strange feeling that swarmed there in his eyes. Something you weren’t quite used to seeing from him. Something you just couldn’t place. It surprised you when he leaned in. Made your heart flutter—stomach flip—as his lips found yours.

The Ghoul rarely kissed you, and when he did it was rough. All teeth and bite, just like everything else about him, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. There was an odd softness to it. So gentle, and unlike anything you had ever shared with him before, but it was good all the same. Left your heart feeling like it was going to fall out of your chest right then and there.

It had all been fleeting though. That fluttering feeling. That sweet kiss. Lips pressed to yours only for a moment before they were gone again. Like it had never happened in the first place. Just another piece of memories from him to add to your imagination. Never to be addressed.

There wasn’t a word spoken between you as he finally pulled out from your sensitive walls. The touch of his body—his hands—leaving you, as he moved to settle at your side again. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t help lull your head over to gaze at him. Still stuck in that dreamlike feeling. Watching. Quiet as he leaned over the bedside to rummage around in his bag. Pulling out the vials you had seen him take so many times by now.

You still hadn’t a clue to what they were really. Knew it kept him from going feral, but beyond that you knew nothing. Which is how he liked things typically. He never told you too much. That’s just what it was always like between you two. You hadn’t even known his name till quite recently.

It was during one of the last few times he had visited, if you recalled. Between moans and bated breaths. Pleasure so close to reaching its peak when he first told it. Cooper. You still remember how desperate he sounded. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone from the Ghoul you were beginning to know so well. Name’s Cooper darlin’. And you’d never forget the way he practically crumbled to pieces as you said the name back. Soul exposed to you in ways you never thought possible with him.

Honestly, you didn’t even think he had a soul until that moment.

The Ghoul hadn’t been back for months after that night. For reasons you could only guess at. There was a point where you didn’t think he’d ever be back to seek you out again. But of course he was always full of surprises. Almost half a year passed until you saw him again at your doorstep. Acting as if nothing had happened since last, like he hadn’t been gone far longer then he ever had before. Familiar bite and taunting words greeting you fondly. All back to his normal self—or what was normal of him to you at least.

“Cooper?”

He inhales the chem. Doesn’t pay you any mind in the slightest. Which is fine. Doesn’t stop yourself from shifting closer to him. Allowing for one of your hands to trail up his chest. You feel him pausing briefly at your touch, and your eyes meet his as he glances your way. He’s unreadable as he gazes at you, hazel eyes holding yours for a mere second, before they’re focusing back to his life saving vials.

He doesn’t go to stop you though, so you take the chance to tuck yourself into his side. Head resting on his chest. Your eyes feeling heavy once more as you do. But still you don’t sleep yet. Not when you know how little time you have left with the Ghoul. So instead your fingers draw shapes over him, and play with the button of his shirt he still never bothered to remove.

“Thought I told you to fuckin’ sleep.” His voice brings you away from your thoughts, as he finishes up with his chem. Sounding almost annoyed, probably was, he’s not one for showing much bouts of affection after all. Doesn’t even really like when you’re clingy either. But somehow that still doesn’t stop his free arm winding itself around your waist. Holding you close.

“Cooper…”

“Sleep.” The Ghoul’s voice had been quiet but firm. He had pulled his hat from the bedpost to wear again, tugging it to rest over his closing eyes. “Some of us got shit to do in the morning.”

You didn’t bother to point out how he had been the one disturbing you up till this moment. There was no point in arguing with him though. He wouldn’t listen—a stubborn bastard through and through.

Not that you could find a good reason to do so anyway. Especially not with how your eyes kept trying to flutter shut, or how comforting it felt laying there in his arms. Listening to his breathing. His very subtle heartbeat somehow loud to your ears.

When sleep finally took you it would be peaceful for once. Something about knowing the Ghoul was there made you feel calm. Even though you knew that it should have been the opposite. He was deadly. Could kill you in a second. But somehow that hadn’t bothered you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least. Instead it made you feel at ease.

Safe.

The sun would be barely rising as you woke to the early light. Gentle rays illuminating your small room in a warm orange glow. You had stretched, yawning, before naturally going to feel for the Ghoul that had invaded your home last night. His spot had been empty, of course, long grown cold now that he didn’t occupy its space.

He never stayed for long. Any night he spent with you he was always gone before you ever had the chance of waking. It’s just how he was. How things were meant to be between you two. You had understood since the very beginning, all those years ago when first taking him into your bed.

And yet still your fingers ran over the spot. An ache settling in your heart. You knew there was no reason to be sentimental. There was no reason to miss something that wasn’t truly yours. But there was a part of you that did. A piece of you that wanted more than this—wanted what you couldn’t truly have for yourself.

The Ghoul, Cooper Howrad. You wanted him. More than just for sex. His heart, his soul. You wanted it all. Every piece of him. Craved it even. More than you ever desired something in your entire life. That thought of being his, and him being yours rattling around in that silly little heart of yours.

He’d never allow it.

Sighing, you pulled your hand away from his spot and sat up. Wincing. You had almost forgotten about it. The bite mark he left on your thigh still painful. Carefully you looked it over. He hadn’t taken a chunk out of you. Thankfully. Just left you looking like some sort of chew toy like he usually did.

It wasn’t worth a stimpak. Not like you’d ever consider using one anyway for such a minor injury. It would be a waste otherwise, and being wasteful out here meant death even on a good day.

Sometimes you wondered if that was why he marked you up so much. As if he knew you wouldn’t bother to heal them so quickly. You wondered if he enjoyed knowing that your body carried signs of him for days. Bites and bruises like some sort of possessive claim. Every mark from him a reminder of just who exactly had left them there in the first place.

You doubted it all the same though, he probably just thought it was fun to bite and mark you up. Probably did it to everyone he spent the night with. You were sure there were others. Even if he’s never said so, you weren’t dumb enough to think otherwise, as sad as it made you to think about sometimes.

Leaving bed, your morning would end up being the same as any other. You’d get yourself ready, tidy up the room, and eat what little food you had. After you’d work the day away. Maybe even head into town for a little bit before heading back home. The simple mundane routine so natural to you now that it went about like clockwork. Doing what you needed to survive before the sun would fall again. The moon taking its place easily in a sky painted by shining stars.

And as you’d lay in bed once more. You’d look out to the wasteland through those cracks in the boarded window. Wondering if he’d show, eyes searching for any kind of sign of him. Waiting—hoping—for the Ghoul to arrive again.

But of course, he wouldn’t.

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #fallout #reader insert #the ghoul #cooper howard #my fics #fallout show #fallout tv series #fallout fanfic

95 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 11 hours

Note

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done. I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it! TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it. You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely. You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained. Detached from the city you lived in. Lost. So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous. But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty. It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though. Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine. It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human. Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun." "Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers. "You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him. It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach. Just like him. Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower. It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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igotanidea · 1 day

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Run baby, run: AK!Jason x reader

part 2 to Somebody's watching me.

She looked so peaceful. So innocent.

And completely oblivious to the fact that the casual outing she went to with her friends was carefully observed by a pair of eyes, hidden under a metal helmet.

Or was she-?

He was like a predator.

Waiting for a single mistake of his prey to take a change and lunge at the opportunity fate presented him with.

Whatever the mistake may be in this case.

But sooner or later she was gonna make one.

Part ways with her friends.

Get drunk and bibulously let some guy touch her.

Dance to the music to the point of exhaustion and end up on the couch in a stranger’s house.

And he would be there to prevent the aftermath of that.

***

For the last week she was going crazy.

Ever since that one night when she saw a silhouette on the rooftop it felt like someone has been following her every move, ever step, lurking in the dark, so close to her and yet, just beyond reach. However, when she tried to tell her friends about they look at her like she was making a joke. So obviously she stopped doing as much as even mentioning it, cause the last thing she wanted was to be abandoned by the only people in her surroundings.

Even if those friends didn’t really deserve the name.

But still – those were the only one she had.

Incomparable with the Waynes she used to spend her time with years ago, before all went to shit. But Jason’s disappearance left an everlasting scar. The only thing she wanted was to forget it all, and yet – the only impossible thing in her life seemed to be letting go of the past. And being in the company of Dick, Tim, Babs and the rest of the clan was making her skin burn and her stomach twist and turn with the incoming, checkless panic attack. Like her entire body and mind felt the pressure of the past on her fragile conscience and damaged soul.

And the only thing she felt like doing in the Manor was either screaming or crying.

So she moved on, or so she tried to convince herself of.

***

Mistake number one was left her drink unattended when she went to the toilet.

Rookie move with the possible grave consequences.

But it was gone when she came back. Only fueling her paranoia.

Mistake number two was letting her eyes off her companionship and being left alone by the exit with some drunken and already horny guys.

But when with shaky hands she pulled out her phone, desperately searching through her contact list for a potential backup, those men were already dragged into the nearest dark alley and knocked down.

But her worst mistake was not calling the cab and deciding on actually walking home. In her opinion it was a way to get some air and calm her rapidly racing heart, but she freaking forgot it was Gotham.

Like a freaking fool.

Under any other circumstances she would never and the fact that the though of going on foot even crossed her mind was the perfect reflection of her shattered mind spinning like a freaking Ferris wheel.

Something was wrong.

Something was awfully wrong and she felt like she was a main character in some horror movie.

Like that girl, who you watch on the screen, screaming at her to not go to that creepy attic from where the most suspicious sounds come, and then do the exact same thing when faced with a threat.

A ruffle of the leaves. The sound of an empty soda can rolling on the street. The flap of bird’s wing.

It all made her feel like a Freddy Krueger was coming after her.

And maybe she was not so far from the truth.

Her pulse was over the moon, heart running out of her chest, breath quickening, legs starting to move faster and faster and faster as she started running. Not really watching where as long as it was forward and away from whatever imaginary individual was chasing her.

With wild hair, tears in her eyes and blurry vision.

She was so stupid. So fucking stupid and mental, belonging in the mental institution due to her damaged brain refusing to stop dwelling on the past trauma.

“WATCH OUT!”

Before she was hit by a car a strong pair of arms grabbed her by the waist pulling her back to the pavement. She closed her eyes in fear letting whoever her savior was hold her trembling form. As weird as it was, for some reason being in this embrace felt… good. And familiar. Like she belonged there.

And if it was another wave of schizophrenic images coming from her brain she refused to accept it, freezing at the spot and waiting for it to pass.

But the stranger’s seeming grip on her body did not falter. For a longer while that seemed both like an eternity and like a second.

“Y/N….”

It must have been a wind. It must have been a wind. It must have been a wind.

“Y/N…”

The second the voice hit her ears again she turned around abruptly, but there was no one there.

She was going crazy.

With wide terrified eyes, slowly coming back on earth she finally took in her surroundings.

Realizing, to her undeniable terror, that she was right next to Dick’s house. And even worse – noticing the lights in his windows. Which meant he was here and not in Bludhaven. And not patrolling. Which was an uncommon, if not impossible conjuncture.

The past finally caught up with her.

“Y/N?!” Dick noticed her outside and opened the window, holding back the instinct to just jump outside (from 3rd floor) like an acrobat he was. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you ok?”

“No…” she sobbed “No, I’m not okay…” she finally broke down in the middle of the night, on the empty street.

“Damn!” a few minutes later Grayson was downstairs holding her for dear life. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Whatever happened, you are safe with me now, I promise.”

She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Crying from fear and stress and helplessness.

“Shhh… come on, let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up. I got you.”

When Dick was slowly guiding her to his apartment, the same predatory red eyes were focused on the pair and the sudden need for vengeance sprouts buds, growing roots deep into the long-petrified heart, crushing down the ice it was covered with.

No one was going to take her away from him this time.

@vaniasagitaa @gone-batty-fics @astrelz @not-herexo @deans-spinster-witch @calicocat45

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #jason todd angst #arkham knight jason todd

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beneathstarryskies · 1 day

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Word Count: 1,285 Warnings: fem!reader, pentration (p+v), oral (f recieving), fluffy Summary: You reunite with Halsin after the events in Baldur's Gate. A/N: This is just a little thing I had some inspo for

The moon shines over the water, bright and silver as the pieces in your pack. It’s been a long journey, one most ardently taken so you could be reunited with Halsin at last. He’s still awake when you cross the bridge to Last Light Inn. He peers out the window to see you, and a small smile tugs on his lips.

You hardly recognize the lands that used to be shadow-cursed. Lush greenery grows along the side of Last Light, covering it in vines and flowers. Moss and grass have begun growing between the stonework at your feet. It used to be trodden down by the activity of the Harpers but has since slowed down since the area is in relative peace.

Halsin comes out the door at the same time you’re approaching it. Without hesitation, he wraps you up in a warm bear hug. You giggle as your feet lift from the ground, and he spins you around.

“My heart, I’ve watched the horizon for you,” he declares as he carefully sets you down on your feet again. He cups your cheeks gently and smiles down at you with such warmth.

“I came as soon as I could,” you say before leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It’s no matter, my heart. I only thank the Oakfather that you’re here with me now.”

He reaches down to take your hand in his, and he leads you inside. You’re surprised he’s taken up residence in the inn, but he explains that the Tiefling children had already come to see this place as home so he decided to take up residence here as well while they worked on building their little homestead.

“There’s a place for you, of course,” he says as he leads you upstairs to his room. “That is if you intend on staying.”

That is something you’ve thought about at length. Whether you would choose to stay or continue your adventures. However, the decision was made the moment Halsin took you into his arms again. You were home.

“I would love to stay, and embark on a new adventure at your side,” you say gently.

“I would like that too,” he confirms before ushering you inside his room. He guides you to sit on the bed, and before you have time to ask he’s kneeling before you. His deft fingers begin undoing the laces of your well-worn boots. He slips them off carefully and sets them aside. Then his warm hands are rubbing your legs through your pants. He can hardly wait to get his hands on you after so long apart, but he knows you’ve been traveling for a while. He wants to assure you’re comfortable before even considering making a proper move on you. “Do you need anything, my heart? A bath? A meal?”

“A bath would be lovely,” you let out a blissful sigh. “I must smell horrible.”

He chuckles softly, “If it was day we’d bathe in the lake, but I suppose you’d like me to fill the tub instead for the night?”

You nod eagerly. As he goes to fill the tub, you stand from the bed to begin to take off your clothes. It feels so good to free yourself from the weight of your armor, and finally stand bare. Halsin uses magic to heat your bathwater, then turns to you. His eyes widen as he sees your body bared to him. He comes closer to you, and his breath is shaky as he places his hands on your hips.

“Oh, how have I forgotten how beautiful you are? Could it be my memory is not as strong as the vision before me?” he whispers.

You lean in to kiss him passionately, raising once more onto your tiptoes. You tug at his clothes.

“Join me in the bath,” you say with the slightest plea in your voice.

“You don’t have to ask twice.”

You help him out of his clothes, then you allow him into the bath first so you can settle yourself between his legs with your back to his chest. His hands are on your body under the guise of washing you, but the soap in his hands is merely a flimsy excuse to feel you up to his heart’s content.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear.

“I missed you too,” you smile softly before laying your head back against his shoulder so you can see his face. His eyes are fixed on you with unbridled adoration.

He presses soft kisses on your cheek and along your jawline. His hands are gentle, but reverential, on your skin. He kneads and caresses with care, but he is holding back. You can tell by the way his breath feels slightly heavier and he keeps adjusting his position slyly hoping you won’t feel how hard he is just from washing you.

Finally, you can’t help yourself anymore. You turn around in the bath and move to straddle his lap. His eyes light up with excitement as you lean in to kiss him deeply. Your tongues rub together in a sensual dance of longing. He caresses your sides gently, and guides you to grind against him. His cock throbs against your core.

“Should we get out?” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away from the kiss.

“Oh, yes. I think we should.”

He helps you out of the bath and leads you to the bed. He’s kissing you deeply as he lays you down, and hovers over your form.

“Is this okay?” he asks. He awaits your eager consent before continuing.

His lips travel the curves and dips of your body like a leaf sailing across the river. He moans just from feeling your body again. His heart races in his chest with pure excitement. Finally, after what seems to be a hundred kisses, he spreads your thighs. He lays between them, and you hear a low growl escape his throat as he smells the musk of your arousal. He leans in to drag his tongue along your slit before suckling on your folds.

“Mm, delicious,” he grunts before returning to his task with increased fervor. You throw your head back against the pillows as he flicks his tongue against your clit. You roll your eyes back with pleasure, and resist the urge to grind against his face.

The dim candlelight falls over the room, casting intimate shadows on the wall. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are lit up in shades of gold. You caress his cheeks.

“I need you,” you whine.

“Then you’ll have me.”

He sits up on his knees, and gives his cock a few gentle strokes before guiding himself to your entrance. You watch his face contort with pleasure as he slides into you. After so long apart, your walls stretch around his girth as though it’s the first time you’ve taken it. When he bottoms out, you let out a gentle whine.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ready to pull out if the answer is yes. He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you shake your head.

“No, it’s just been so long.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he lowers his body against yours. He kisses you soothingly as he starts moving slowly, his hips rocking in a gentle rhythm.

“H-halsin,” you moan.

“Mm, yes?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“It feels so good.”

“I know, my heart,” he whispers. “I’m already having to hold back.”

“Don’t worry about holding back,” you giggle before kissing him again. “We have plenty of time now.”

#halsin x reader #halsin bg3 x reader #halsin x tav #daddy halsin #halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #🌟written in the stars #listen i know it ends kind of mid smut but it just felt right

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callmelittlebuttercup · 2 days

Text

Peace Offerings Pt.7

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: Slow burn, Age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Seven

I’d fallen asleep on the couch. Joel placing a mug of coffee onto the table beside me had been my sign to wake up. “What time is it?” I asked while wiping the sleep out of my eyes. “Early. We need to catch up on time.” He said. He was back to his rigid self. I guess last night had been too much for him. I sat up and stretched before taking a sip of the hot, stale liquid. It burned my tongue, but I played it cool. He dropped my backpack in front of me and slung his own over his shoulder. “Be ready in five.” He grunted and turned to walk out the front door. “Aye aye captain.” I mumbled under my breath as I reached for my boots.

I nearly stumbled out onto the porch, and met Joel at the bottom of the stairs. “Ready.” I said. He stood up with a grunt and we began our trek. The air was beginning to get colder, and soon my sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough. I took stock of the clothing I had left in my bag, and even then, I still wouldn’t make it through the winter. “We should find somewhere for warm clothes.” I suggested. He nodded and replied, “Keep an eye out.” I plucked the map he had tucked into the side pocket of his backpack and opened it up. My eyes scanned the area, and if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, there was a shopping mall about 10 miles north. I relayed the information to Joel, and of course he grabbed the map from me, needing to confirm it for himself. I stood close to him, pointing to where I saw the mall. He nodded and folded up the map before handing it to me to shove back into the pocket.

It took five hours, but we’d finally caught sight of the mall. After 5 hours of walking, my mind was fried, and I was even convinced the mall could have been a mirage. “You see that too right?” I asked Joel, my words slurring slightly. “Yup.” He answered. “Just making sure.”

We closed the distance between us and the ginormous building. “This is going to be a bitch to clear.” I sighed. “Just keep it down.” Joel demanded as he pushed the door open with a creak. Memories of my childhood flooded back as I caught sight of the grand entryway to the abandoned mall. “Stay behind me.” He whispered as we entered the building cautiously. I kept my head on a swivel and kept up with Joel’s quickened pace. He stopped at the opening of what looked like a sporting goods store. I followed him inside, and once we deemed the area clear, we untensed and began to load any clothes we saw into our bags. I chose a wind breaker with a sherpa lining and a few sweaters to go underneath. Joel grabbed us each a pair of gloves and a hat. I’d wandered off to see if there was anything else of use, and was eyeing the picked over shoe racks when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I heard it before I saw it. The familiar raspy breath of an infected. I turned around and caught sight of the nasty thing. It came barreling forward but ran into a rack and sent it flying into me. It slammed against my torso and pinned me to the shoe display. I began to lose vision from the pain of my already cracked ribs being beaten even further. With the little strength I could muster, I pushed the rack off me and used it to keep the distance between the monster and I. It’s arms flailed over the side of the rack as it tried to get a hold of me, but I ducked and dodged each time. I prayed for Joel to find me since I didn’t have the time to take my eyes off of the infected to get my gun from the floor. I stood there fighting the creature as hard as I could all while trying not to collapse from the agony. I finally hurt a gunshot and the creature dropped to the floor. I let go of the rack and paused, ensuring that it was fully dead, and soon after Joel’s hand grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. “We gotta get out of here. Go!”

I ran as fast as I could behind Joel, and once he felt that we were far enough away from the mall, he slowed to a jog. “You promised you wouldn’t do that.” He breathed. “I know.” I gasped. “So what the fuck possessed you to?” He questioned, his voice gaining volume from growing anger. “I…I don’t know, I just wanted to see what else we could get.” I stuttered, feeling fear pulse through my abdomen. His dark eyes practically burned holes into me. He said nothing and turned to continue to walk along the path we’d fallen upon.

About two hours later, we’d come upon a and cleared school to rest in for the night. He’d been silent, clearly angry at me for wandering away from him. I didn’t want to speak to him either. Even if his anger was because of the fact he cared about me, I hated being talked down to and treated like an irresponsible child. He sat across the grimy, dust filled teachers lounge and bore his eyes into me. I tried to ignore the pain across the right side of my stomach, but it got worse with each breath, and would soon be impossible to ignore. I needed to do something about it, but if Joel saw that I was hurt I would get another lecture. I sat still on the couch, picking at my fingernails to avoid eye contact. “I know you’re hurt.” He grumbled. My eyes shot up to him, “What? I’m fine.” I said defensively. “Then get up and twist to the side.” He demanded. I raised my eyebrows, continuing to act confused, “What the fuck are you on about, Joel? I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I insisted. He stood up and walked over, standing over me and studying my body with his eyes. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” He said, his voice getting lower with impatience. I sighed, my side rippling with pain, and reluctantly sat up while stifling a grunt. I stood, causing Joel to take a step back. “Here’s your proof.” I said as I began to twist to the side. The pain was so bad the wind was knocked out of me and I stumbled backwards, my ass landing on the couch. Joel’s face remained unchanged except for a small glint in his eye. He clearly loved when I was wrong.

I stared up at him angrily while catching my breath. “Lift up your shirt.” He said. I chucked, “Woah, Miller, take me out to dinner first.” He unsurprisingly did not laugh at my joke, and sat on the couch next to me, leaving about two feet between us. I rolled my eyes and lifted up my shirt while sucking air through my teeth. Joel’s eyes widened and his lips parted. “Wha-” I began to ask but my breath caught in my throat when I caught sight of the nasty multicolored bruise painted across the right side of my abdomen. “Must’ve broken a rib. A few ribs at least.” He said before absentmindedly moving his calloused fingers up to touch it. I jerked away and spat, “Don’t fucking touch it.” He quickly moved his hand away and muttered, ��Sorry.” I pulled my shirt back down and sat back on the couch with a grunt. I looked at him, wondering what his next move would be. He stood up and walked to his backpack on the other side of the room, unzipped it, and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt. “Joel, don’t waste a perfectly good shirt, I’ll be fine.” I said, but he ignored me and I watched him as he ripped it and tied it to make a longer strip of fabric.

When he was finished, he walked back over to me and gestured for me to stand again. I raised my shirt up for him again and he didn’t move. He cleared his throat and said “It’ll need to go under your shirt.” I nodded and reluctantly pulled my t-shirt off, leaving only my ratty bra to cover my breasts. He unraveled the fabric and began to wrap it around my torso a few times, then looped it over my opposite shoulder. I winced as he pulled it tighter before tying one last knot in the center of my chest. Pulling the fabric had forced our bodies closer together, the warmth of his breath brushing over my face. His head turned down, and his eyes bounced back and forth between my eyes and my lips, and I could have sworn he leaned in closer before pulling away quickly. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks as he took a step back and studied his work, making sure it was tied correctly. The tightness of the wrap pressed into the bruise causing a dull ache, but moving with it on felt much better than nothing. “Thanks.” I said quietly. He nodded and sat back down on the other couch, not thinking to look away as I put my shirt back on.

“I told you to stay behind me. And now look at you.” He huffed after a minute of silence. “Oh save it, Joel.” I spat. He leaned forward on his knees, “There was no need for you to go and get yourself hurt. We agreed what I say goes, so you need to start actin’ like it.” His eyes were intense, he wasn’t fucking around. I only agreed to that sentiment so he would take me with him to find our brothers in Wyoming. I thought he knew that since I showcased my hardheadedness often. “We both lived, and I’ll be fine.” I said, wanting to end the conversation. “We’re staying here while you heal. Not getting back on the road until you can move correctly again. S’not safe.” I lifted my head off the couch to look at him, “You can’t be serious. My legs are fine! I can walk!” He pressed his lips together and shook his head, “You can’t move your upper body. You can’t fight.” He said. I rolled my eyes and let a puff of air leave my nose, “Staying here will only make the trip longer. I want to get to Wyoming, Joel.” He thought for a minute and then looked up at me, “We’ll get there faster if you take the time to rest.” He argued. I stood up and grabbed my backpack, stifling the grimaces as I gathered my things. “What’re you doing?” He asked, eyeing me as I moved around the room. “I’m getting on the road. Don’t need someone to hold me back.” I muttered as I began to walk towards the door of the lounge. Joel bolted to the door and stood blocking it. I stared daggers at him, “Move.” He shook his head side to side slowly. I pushed on his chest as hard as I could with both of my hands, “Fucking move, asshole!” I winced when he grabbed my arms and pushed me to the side, pinning my back against the wall beside the door. “I can’t let you do that.” He grunted, using his strength to hold me. I tried to struggle against his grip but my side was searing with pain. “You can. I’m a grown woman, Joel. I don’t need you to protect me like some guard dog. I’ll do just fine on my own.” I seethed, “Let go of me. Please I just want to get to my brother.”

Tears of frustration pooled in my eyes. Joel’s hard gaze softened, and so did his grip. “You will. But you won’t get far with broken ribs. I’m trying to help you.” He said calmly. I looked at him through my tears. Took in his wild brown hair which was sprinkled with grey, his square jaw inhabited by a patchy beard, eyes the color of ground coffee, eyes that were pleading for me to stay. I didn’t know why, but I was beyond attracted to him. Sure, he was older, but what did that matter nowadays? In addition to his looks, his commanding and dark personality intrigued me. He clearly cared about me, but he had walls up. Hard, concrete walls that were going to take maximal effort to break down. But hell was I going to try because I’ve never said no to a challenge.

“You want me to stay, huh?” I asked, blinking away my tears as a new idea popped into my head. “I don’t want you to get killed.” He said gruffly. I smirked slightly, “Then admit it.” I blurted. His face twisted into an expression that was confusion mixed with fear. He took a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides. “What?” He questioned. “Yeah, that’s right. If you want me to stay so badly, admit that you care about me.” I taunted as I walked towards him. He stumbled over his words, but I cut him off again, “C’mon, Joel, you’ve slaughtered people but you’re afraid to confess your feelings to a woman?” I chuckled. He stood staring at me. His chest rising and falling with his panicked breaths. He said nothing, and my heart fell slightly, but I kept my confident air. “Fine. See you in hell.” I said before turning to walk out of the door. Before my hand could touch the handle, I felt a calloused grip on the back of my neck. The hand pulled me backwards and I turned. I barely had time to process, and suddenly my lips were moving hungrily with Joel’s.

Warmth and excitement spread through my stomach as his arms gently wrapped around my waist. His hands shakily held onto the small of my back, his fingers clenching into the fabric of my shirt when I let a small moan slip into his mouth. We lost ourselves in each other. Our hands explored places neither of us ever thought we’d touch. His strong hands moved cautiously up my waist and around my shoulders to settle into each crook of my neck. He used his body to push me backwards into the wall. My hands gripped his torso, pulling him closer, using anything but words to ask him for more. His tongue licked my bottom lip and I eagerly let him in. He tasted better than anything I’d imagined. Suddenly, he pulled away. “I can’t.” He grunted as he gently pushed his hands off of my hips and stalked away into the other room, leaving me with swollen lips, heavy breathing, confusion, and rejection.

I sat on the couch staring at the ground and chewing on my fingernails. I felt embarrassed at how desperate I’d been for him, and for actually thinking he would open up to me. I dropped my head into my hands and let out a frustrated groan. His footsteps caused my head to snap up, and he stood in the doorway. His face was unreadable. “Joel,” I started to speak but he cut me off. “Don’t. It was a mistake. Won’t happen again. Now get some sleep. We’re getting back on the road in the morning.” He said as he laid down on the other couch. I nodded and laid back, turning away from him. My thoughts made sleep seem unreachable. His voice grounding out the word “mistake” over and over in my mind. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was all one huge mistake. Me leaving the QZ for my brother, Joel agreeing to take me with him. But it was too late now. We were so close to Wyoming. I decided I would suck it up, not enage with Joel unless I had to, and stick to his plans no matter what. I just needed to survive, and I would make it to Matthew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: Hi hi! We're finally getting some action in this part;) Also, I've had a request to start a tag list so please let me know if you'd like to be added!! I hope you enjoy <3

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ladysqueakinpip · 12 hours

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apritello week day 3: matching outfits // date night

this came to me at 3am like a vision

note: i have a ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY for t.c.e.s.t. allegations and hateful comments on my art. any nasty commenters will be blocked with no response.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #apritello #apritello week #apritelloweek24 #riseapritelloweek #rottmnt Donnie #rottmnt April #squeaky art #ladysqueakinpip #yes I did do both prompts for this day. what about it. 💅

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kiwibeanv · 1 day

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Cockblocked by a Ghost

Summary: Who would have known a ghost would ruin a night with Dazai. Fem! Reader.

Notes: I've been playing fatal frame 5 (so there will be references). Sudden idea. Thanks to @monoclesnapple for the editing.

Ever since you went to the mountain, the spirits followed you home. These past nights, you saw their misty specters wander your home. The random door slamming shut when you know you live alone. Soft whispers that make you look where they came from. Their appearances look awfully like the ones you repelled with your camera. The shrine maiden with gouged out eyes, the girl who cut her neck, and the lost souls that died in the mountain. The ways they died still plagued your mind, despite trying not to ponder on it. Those negative thoughts mixed in your head and nightmares became more frequent for you.

You decided to take a break from investigating the mountain for the sake of your mental health. Your café was calm and quiet which eased your mind at the familiarity of the routine. Dazai came in and took a seat at the counter near you. Ever since you met him when the ADA requested your assistance, he always came to your café first. His gaze landed on your face and he could see how pale you looked in combination with the eyebags.

"(Name)," He looked up at you with concern as he leaned over the counter. "My, my you look awful."

You rested your cheek on your hand. "I'm aware."

"Not getting enough rest? You know investigating at night does take a toll," He brought his hand near your arm where you held your face up. His index finger landed on your wrist and he let it glide down to your elbow. He made circular motions on that spot. He studied your expression and he noticed your eyes didn't make direct contact with his.

"Something bothering you?" Dazai asked.

"No it's nothing," You shook your head.

"Really? You didn't look like this before investigating," he pointed out. You let your gaze connect with his. This man is too good at reading people. A sigh escaped your lips.

"It's just all these visions from the spirits," you began. "The causes of their death. The pain they felt before their last breath. But that's not the worst part. They followed me home and it's hard to sleep at night. You know that they are more active at that time."

Dazai nods and took his hand from your arm. He brought it to his face to think.

"Don't you have another place to stay? Or did you try a hotel?" He asked.

You shook your head. "I don't. Nor do I want to spend my money at the hotel."

"Then why don't you stay at my place?" He offered with a grin. "It's free from spirits. You might get a better night of rest."

"Are you sure?" You asked. You didn't really want to make an inconvenience for him. "And if those spirits follow me?"

"Oh relax," he waved his hand off. "I think your ghosts are comfortable here. What ghost doesn't like the aroma of coffee and tea with an elegant home of yours connected to it?"

"Well I really don't want to burden you if that comes to it," you warn as you lifted your head from your hand.

"It's no burden for me!" He assured, placing his hand on his chest. "Besides, I get to have a lovely, gifted woman at my home who can fight spirits."

He takes your hands and his eyes glimmered at you. "My home is absolutely safe and sound~ And you are welcome to stay more nights if you need."

"Uh…" His offer sounded appealing to you. A break from your haunted home to finally get a good night. If the spirits stayed at your home, you don't have to worry about those lingering memories. "Sure. I will take your offer," you replied.

Dazai's lips curled upwards as if proud. After that agreement, you went to pack your things. All the things you need to stay for several nights, while he went back to prepare a space for you.

For a few nights, you were getting accustomed to the arrangements. He allowed you to take the bed while he took the couch. You didn't have vivid nightmares anymore. You finally had a moment of peace. After you settled down, Dazai started getting touchy. You had an idea of his tendencies with women due to Chuuya letting you know one time during your investigation in finding the two ladies. Little does Dazai know, Chuuya gave his number to you first. Chuuya offered it in case you ever had questions about Dazai or, if he hurt you, he could hunt him down and give him a piece of his mind.

However, you felt a mutual connection with Dazai. His touches didn't bother you, his compliments made you feel better about yourself, and there was something attracting you to Dazai like a hummingbird to nectar. Slowly you started to reciprocate his gestures to hint your liking towards him.

On this night, this time you asked if Dazai would like to share the bed with you.

"Yes! I would love to accompany you!" He answered with excitement. You lead him to the dark room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. It was night time anyways so sleep will be inevitable. His hand held yours as you pulled him to bed. Dazai slipped under the covers with you. He felt so close to you. His hand squeezed yours and you reciprocated.

You both faced each other in this quiet moment. Your eyes never leaving his, almost trying to look at his soul. He scooted a little closer to you. Though he didn't want to invade your space. But, you wanted something to happen.

You cupped his cheek with you hand and leaned in to connect your lips with his. His heart raced at your move and he kissed you intensely. You adjust your positions so the two of you found a comfortable position for the kissing. Lips demanded more contact. Tongues danced in passion. A yearning for touch of skin. His hand went under the hem to feel your side. The heat was rising between the two of you. But just before he could move his hand up, a faint knock on the door was heard. Both of you stopped for the moment. Dazai got up to check the door. What puzzled him was that he thought he heard the knock on the bedroom door, not the front. Still, he went to check if there was a visitor. There was no one.

"Huh, could have been a kid," he sighed and went back to you. "Now, lets get that pretty little clothes off you. Will you~?" He smirked. The makeout session resumed with the addition of slowly getting the outer layers off. It felt too hot anyways. Dazai was taking it slow for you. The build up was too fun to let go. He got on top of you and met your lips again.

When your lips parted from his, you saw a faint white mist in the corner of your eye. It disappeared when you centered your gaze at it. Dazai raised his brow, concerned if you were hesitating now. "Everything okay? We don't have to continue if you don't want to," he asked.

"No, I just thought I saw something," you shook your head, placing your attention back on him. Before either of you could do anything, you had a feeling of being watched.

"You have all windows and doors closed and covered, right?" You asked.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Dazai didn't like vague hints for moments like this. He wanted your full consent. "Yes? If you're trying to make excuses, don't bother. Just say you don't want-" A loud bang interrupted him.

This made him got off you to get on guard. As for you, you had a feeling that a spirit must have found its way here. The signs were all there. Mysterious sounds, the odd white thing, and the feeling of being monitored.

He crept to the door which was only opened slightly. He tried to see through the crack but he met eyes wide as saucers. He flinched back but the face disappeared.

"So uh… about your ghost problem…"

You let out a disappointed sigh. "I did warn you about this possibility."

"Oh yeah…" Dazai looked away. "So will it attack us in our sleep?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. Though, I did bring my camera in case it does," you replied.

"Right… let's get whatever sleep we can get."

Dazai joined you in bed again but this time, he kept his hands mostly to himself. The only thing he did was wrap his arms around you. There was just too many cockblocks to kill the mood. It was awkward to sleep in the same bed with arousal running in both your veins, but you didn't want any more disturbances or audiences. The spirit was relatively active. A few bumps in the night, some chilling whispers, but nothing more.

The next day, Dazai was in a dejected mood after the events of the night prior. He still goofed around, but when he was sitting still, his vibe wasn't necessarily joyful or anything usual.

Eventually, Chuuya found out about what occurred, and he was just cackling at the thought. He came up to you and took a deep breath to compose himself.

"Listen- I can get you a good exorcist," he lets out a chuckle before calming down. "Whoever you want, I'll get, or I can just get a random priest to handle it. If ya don't wanna go back home yet, I can offer my place so you don't have to go to Dazai. It's so much better than that stinky mackerel's and I got better food."

He leans in close to you and mutters with a smirk on his face, "Besides, dogs are more fun to be with than fish."

#bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x you #dazai x you #dazai x fem reader #osamu dazai x reader

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