#better left in tagged writing but yeah

[baconcolacan]

The T4T tomtord has me thinking DEEPLY like….

As kids Tord would be just the most UNBEARABLE egg there is out there. He’d be hanging out with Tom and just ask shit like ‘Hey Tammie? Do you…ever feel like you’re someone else??’

SURPRISINGLY he’s the reason Tom gets an early awakening cause he keeps using him as a fucking soundboard for his eggthoughts and Tom’s just ‘Ohhh yeah I get it now’ and knows he’s a boy from a young age and it takes Tord until at LEAST sophomore/year 10 to realise he’s trans.

And yes, he still used Tom as a soundboard for all those years until then. Tom TRIES to give him hints, he never catches them.

[the-acid-pear]

I never tried the option myself bc it'd probably mean skipping the Reason You Suck speech at the end (fire for speedrunners though) but I Love that you can frame your Phoneys in 3, especially so if you've already killed the previous two. Like yeah couldn't send you off to die so i'll let the goverment do it for me 🧸 like its just Peak evil imo.

[skyan-cyan]

so you would think getting a new body with two actual hands would be an upgrade right?

right??

no. the same hand is broken. it does not work. why

[laikahh]

but there are lots of fish left in the sea, there are lots of fish in business suits that talk and walk on human feet & visit doctors & have weak knees ...Oh Please Let Me Join Your Cult..!!! Ill Paint My Face In Yr Colours!!!!!!! (u had a real nice face, i had an early death.)

[justablah56]

that moment when you think about a friend you haven't seen in 2 years and you realize wow the attachment issues are strong with this one

[redbootsindoriath]

begging you to elaborate on autistic beleg and autistic túrin!!

Bro thanks so much for asking because I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for years.  And now I have to dig up the list.  I’m just glad I wrote it down, and thankfully @frodo-with-glasses is also visiting and could help me remember what I forgot to include.  Brace yourself because this post is going to get long.  Seriously.  I even left out any headcanons and just stuck with what evidence I have from the source material.

We’re going to start out with the obvious: Túrin.  And I say obvious because I have seen one other post talking about how he comes across as autistic, and his traits are more obvious (especially in the more well-known Silmarillion as opposed to other versions of the story).

Clearly he’s quite bright, especially as a strategist (it’s mainly the CurseTM that turns his plans into a bad thing whenever it’s least convenient), but a significant number of fans describe him, sometimes affectionately and sometimes not, as stupid.  This is probably because he’s completely blind to many social cues.  One of our first examples is him never noticing how interested Nellas was in him (whether romantically or platonically I’ve never been able to figure out).

Coming suddenly out of thought [Túrin] looked at Beleg, and said: 'The elf-maiden that you named, though I forget how: I owe her well for her timely witness; yet I cannot recall her. Why did she watch my ways?' Then Beleg looked strangely at him. 'Why indeed?' he said. 'Túrin, have you lived always with your heart and half your mind far away? As a boy you used to walk with Nellas in the woods.' The Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Another example is how he completely missed the fact that Finduilas loved him and he continued shipping Gwinduilas.  (Also note the uncomfortable miscommunication between an autistic character and allistic character in this section.  Both of them assume the other is just being difficult for some reason.)

Afterwards Túrin sought out Gwindor, and said to him: 'Gwindor, dear friend, you are falling back into sadness; do not so! For your healing will come in the houses of your kin, and in the light of Finduilas.' Then Gwindor stared at Túrin, but he said nothing, and his face was clouded. 'Why do you look upon me so?' said Túrin. 'Often your eyes have gazed at me strangely of late. How have I grieved you? I have opposed your counsels; but a man must speak as he sees, nor hide the truth that he believes, for any private cause. I would that we were one in mind; for to you I owe a great debt, and I shall not forget it.' 'Will you not?' said Gwindor. 'Nonetheless your deeds and your counsels have changed my home and my kin. Your shadow lies upon them. Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?' Túrin did not understand these words, and did but guess that Gwindor begrudged him his place in the heart and counsels of the King. The Children of Húrin, chapter X

There’s more of this in larger amounts in how he dealt with Mîm and Saeros.  He was friends with Mîm until Beleg came back and then he practically ignored Mîm, albeit unintentionally, and somehow didn’t see how betrayed the dwarf felt as a result of that.  Túrin ignored Saeros’s bullying until he couldn’t take it anymore and then he lashed out in a spectacularly disastrous and emotional manner that somehow nobody (except Mablung) saw coming.  I should point out that time that he missed the fact that he’d accidentally taken Saeros’s seat at that one banquet, and immediately afterward completely missed the fact that Saeros was trying to make a snide remark about it:

'Seldom does the march-warden favour us with his company,' [Saeros] said; 'and I gladly yield my accustomed seat for the chance of speech with him.' But Túrin, who was in converse with Mablung the Hunter, did not rise, and said only a curt 'I thank you'. The Children of Húrin, chapter V

On a somewhat similar note to his social awkwardness, he forms very few deep friendships.  When they are deep they're very deep, but most of the rest of the people in his life seem to be just casual acquaintances.  He likes them, but he doesn’t have a deep bond of trust and love with them.  He has his categories of “people I like”,  “people I don’t like”, and “heckin frickin friends that I love with all my heart and soul and I will tell my secrets to”.

His moral system is very black and white.  He may draw the line in weird places, but he has a definite line that cannot be crossed.  We actually get an example of him moving this very clear line:

'At least my hands shall not again be raised against Elves or Men,' said Túrin. 'Angband has servants enough. If others will not take this vow with me, I will walk alone.' Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Notice there’s no “I’ll kill bad humans and bad elves” here.  It’s “nope, no more humans or elves”.  Black and white.

He’s not much good with understanding figurative or flowery language.  Again, quite early on in Children of Húrin there are multiple examples of him going to his friend Labadal and asking him to explain something that Húrin or Morwen had said.  He’s a very intelligent child, but figures of speech are not his strong suit.  Of course, as he grows up he tries to overcorrect this by employing some probably-artificially-learned circumlocution, with varying degrees of success.

He has extremely obvious hyperfixations, and he excels in those skills he does have.  If he doesn’t like doing something, he doesn’t bother with it.  But if he does like doing it, he completely dominates at it.

One only was mightier in arms among the march-wardens of Thingol at that time than Túrin... Children of Húrin, chapter V Led by signs that [Beleg] could read, or by the rumour of the passing of Men among the wild things with whom he could speak, he came often near, but always their lair was deserted when he came to it; for they kept a watch about them by day and night, and at any rumour of approach they were swiftly up and away. 'Alas!' he cried. 'Too well did I teach this child of Men craft in wood and field! An Elvish band almost one might think this to be.' Children of Húrin, chapter VI

A human--and a young one at that--doing better than elves at the things elves are supposed to be best at?  It smacks of the savant stereotype, except with tragedy to balance it.

Some other things--his lax habits about hygiene, his stubbornness, his obsession over single tasks or ideas--don’t really need explaining, I think.  They’re in the Silmarillion so most people are familiar with them.  There are, however, three more specific things that I’m rather undecided on but I’m going to mention them anyway.  First, he’s clumsy when it comes to very fine motor control.  You could attribute some of this to the curse, but it could also just be him being, well, clumsy.

...in crafts of making he had less skill, for he was slow to learn his own strength, and often marred what he made with some sudden stroke. Children of Húrin, chapter V

He has some minor selective mutism.  There are a few times it’s mentioned, but it’s right off the bat in Children of Húrin, literally in the first chapter.

...he was not merry, and spoke little, though he learned to speak early and ever seemed older than his years. Children of Húrin, chapter I

You’ll excuse my pointing out that this hints at Asperger’s specifically: no speech delay.  I know it’s not a commonly accepted subcategory anymore, but it’s a very specific detail and I like those.  Also I feel obligated to include this bit as well:

But courage and strength were renewed in the Elf of Nargothrond, and departing from Taur-nu-Fuin he led Túrin far away. Never once as they wandered together on long and grievous paths did Túrin speak... Children of Húrin, chapter IX

That’s months of silence.  I know it’s because of trauma, but still.  I had to include it.

And finally, he’s extremely sensitive.  I almost didn’t include this one in my list because it isn’t in itself a guaranteed sign of autism, but it’s pretty common as a comorbid symptom.  There are many examples of his emotional sensitivity and quick temper throughout all the versions of the story, so I’m just picking one:

...but [the outlaws] feared him, because of his sudden angers, which they seldom understood. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Note again the difficulty in communication.  All in all, I think Tolkien wrote Túrin this way on purpose.  He may not have had a word to describe it, but he made a character with too many autistic traits for me to ignore.

Now!  On to Beleg.

The traits that make me suspect Beleg as autistic are much more subtle, but if you’re looking for them you start seeing them everywhere.  Also many of them are in the Lay of the Children of Húrin, which probably explains why not many people noticed them because that thing can be difficult to unravel compared to the other versions of the story.

Right off the bat, we know that Beleg does whatever the heck he wants and nobody can stop him.  I’ve seen a quote floating around on almost every Wiki article about Beleg that says that he followed no man and could not be restrained.  (If anyone can tell me the source for that, I will draw Beleg for you, because it certainly matches what we know about him but I like the precision of knowing the source material in case anyone challenges it.)  While this isn’t exclusively an autistic trait, it is common enough that I thought it deserved to be included.  Beleg also lives in the woods and only comes around Menegroth when he’s good and ready.  Again, not exclusively autistic, but this casually asocial attitude was one of the first things that roused my suspicions about him.  Heck, according to the Lay he’s especially unsocial.

It was Beleg the hunter, who farthest fared     of his folk abroad ahunting by hill     and hollow valley, who cared not for concourse     and commerce of men. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, I: Túrin’s Fostering

In the Lay, “Men” is capitalized if it’s meant to be translated as “humans”.  Note that it’s not capitalized in that passage.  I’m also going to address this next line before moving on because I know someone is going to point it out if I don’t:

Then Beleg departed from Menegroth and went back to the north-marches, where he had his lodges, and many friends... Children of Húrin, chapter VI

He may have “many friends” among the march-wardens, but he doesn’t spend all of his time with them.  In fact, most of the times we meet him he’s alone.  You can have a decently sized friend group without being around them all the time, especially if you’re immortal.

Now, on to his skill set: elves are supposed to be either healers or hunters/warriors.  Beleg really went “watch me do it anyway” because:

And the Eldar deemed that the dealing of death, even when lawful or under necessity, diminished the power of healing.... On the other hand many elven-men were great healers and skilled in the lore of living bodies, though such men abstained from hunting, and went not to war until the last need. Of the Laws and Customs Among the Eldar

Only one was there     in war greater, higher in honour     in the hearts of Elves, than Túrin son of Húrin     untamed in war -- even the huntsman Beleg     of the Hidden People, the son of the wilderness     who wist no sire (to bend whose bow     of the black yew-tree had none of the might),     unmatched in knowledge of the wood's secrets     and the weary hills. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, I: Túrin’s Fostering

Now was it that it came into the heart of Beleg the hunter of the Elves to seek after Túrin so soon as his own hurts were healed. This being done in no great number of days, for he had a skill of healing... Book of Lost Tales part II, Turambar and the Foaloke

Now Beleg was sorely wounded, but he was mighty among the Elves of Middle-earth, and he was moreover a master of healing. Therefore he did not die, and slowly his strength returned. The Silmarillion, Of Túrin Turambar

Talk all you want about older notes being cancelled out by newer notes, I’m still taking this as another subtle hint at Beleg being autistic.

Hyperfixation.  Extreme hyperfixation.  When he’s bent on something, there’s nothing anyone can do to distract him.  This is a focus that’s been honed by all the practice an older-than-the-sun-and-the-moon lifespan can afford.

Many messengers had been sent out by Thingol to seek Túrin within Doriath and in the lands near its borders; but in the year of his flight they searched for him in vain, for none knew or could guess that he was with the outlaws and enemies of Men. When winter came on they returned to the King, save Beleg only. After all others had departed still he went on alone. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Beleg also thinks in black and white, even more so than Túrin at times.

'Fare free,' said Túrin. 'That wish Mablung gave me at our parting. The grace of Thingol will not stretch to receive these companions of my fall, I think; but I will not part with them now, if they do not wish to part with me. I love them in my way, even the worst a little. They are of my own kind, and there is some good in each that might grow. I think that they will stand by me.' 'You see with other eyes than mine,' said Beleg. 'If you try to wean them from evil, they will fail you. I doubt them, and one most of all.' 'How shall an Elf judge of Men?' said Túrin. 'As he judges of all deeds, by whomsoever done,' answered Beleg... Children of Húrin, chapter VI

His conversational skills are a bit lacking, although less obviously so than Túrin’s.  He swings back and forth between being overly blunt and being overly cryptic.  As with Túrin, he might be trying to adjust for a natural lack of subtlety and accidentally overshooting it.  He also seems to have a habit of dominating--or at least trying to dominate--any conversation he’s in.  The most obvious example I can think of was when he showed up late to Túrin’s trial and literally pressures Elu Thingol himself into accepting Nellas as a witness.

Then there was silence in the hall, and Thingol lifted up his hand to pronounce his doom. But at that moment Beleg entered in haste, and cried: 'Lord, may I yet speak?' 'You come late,' said Thingol. 'Were you not bidden with the others?' 'Truly, lord,' answered Beleg, 'but I was delayed; I sought for one whom I knew. Now I bring at last a witness who should be heard, ere your doom falls.' 'All were summoned who had aught to tell,' said the King. 'What can he tell now of more weight than those to whom I have listened?' 'You shall judge when you have heard,' said Beleg. 'Grant this to me, if I have ever deserved your grace.' 'To you I grant it,' said Thingol. Children of Húrin, chapter V

Bear with me because we’re getting close to the end of the list, but I saved the clues that I found most interesting for last.  Beleg is at any given moment either the most calm and collected character you can imagine, or wildly excitable, and there is no in-between.  Anyone who’s read the Silmarillion knows how stable Beleg can be sometimes, but here:

Then up sprang Beleg: 'That our vaunt and our vows     be not vain for ever, evern such as they swore,     those seven chieftains, an oath let us swear     that is unchanging as Tain-Gwethil's     towering mountain!' Their blades were bared,    as blood shining in the flame of the fires     while they flashed and touched. As with one man's voice     the words were spoken, and the oath uttered     that must unrecalled abide for ever,     a bond of truth and friendship in arms,     and faith in peril. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, II: Beleg

He really suggested the Gaurwaith swear an oath of loyalty like the Fëanorians.  That’s a special breed of chaos.  Not to mention the whole manic monologue he went off with to Flinding (Gwindor) later on in that chapter of the Lay.  All it takes is a single suggestion to send him from 0 to 100000, as long as it’s something he’s interested in.

Now this leads me to my favorite piece of evidence for an autistic Beleg: a surprising inability, especially for an elf, to gauge the volume of his own voice in a moment of excitement.

In eager anger     then up sprang Beleg, crying and calling,     careless of Flinding: 'O Túrin, Túrin,    my troth-brother, to the brazen bonds     shall I abandon thee, and the darkling doors     of the Deeps of Hell?' 'Thou wilt join his journey     to the jaws of sorrow, O bowman crazéd,     if thy bellowing cry to the Orcs should come...' The Lay of the Children of Húrin, II: Beleg

(This is only a small side note, and really doesn’t hold up on its own, but Beleg has dogs.  Animals are a common enough autistic special interest that I thought I might as well mention it, especially when we remember that he can communicate with some animals.)

Now enough of the individual traits. When we look at the two characters together, we can of course contrast the old-autistic and young-autistic differences.  Beleg literally does whatever he wants and people have just learned not to bother trying to change his mind.  He doesn’t bother trying to fit into everyone else’s world but rather runs along perfectly content in his own parallel reality.  Túrin, on the other hand, is stressed, frustrated, and confused both by himself and by everyone else, and he spends most of his life trying to figure out where and how he’s meant to fit in.  But I’d also like to mention that of Túrin’s friends in the whole story, Beleg is the one who has the least miscommunication (although when there is miscommunication it’s spectacularly bad, insert obligatory dark humor here, yada yada).  They may talk in rather dated syntax, but they are able to communicate what is needed when it’s needed.  They’re both blunt and they trust each other enough to take a verbal blow without grudging it afterwards.

'I would lead my own men, and make war in my own way,' Túrin answered. 'But in this at least my heart is changed: I repent every stroke save those dealt against the Enemy of Men and Elves. And above all else I would have you beside me. Stay with me!' 'If I stayed beside you, love would lead me, not wisdom,' said Beleg. 'My heart warns me that we should return to Doriath. Elsewhere a shadow lies before us.' 'Nonetheless, I will not go there,' said Túrin. 'Alas!' said Beleg. 'But as a fond father who grants his son's desire against his own foresight, I yield to your will. At your asking, I will stay.' 'That is well indeed!' said Túrin. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

For being in a book packed with flowery dialogue, their conversations tend to be rather to-the-point.  There’s no small talk, everything that they discuss is pertinent to the current situation.  And Túrin, who is not particularly well-known for listening to anyone’s advice at any time for any reason, seems to respect and appreciate Beleg’s bluntness even to the point of saying this immediately after Beleg called him out on a particularly stupid comment:

Túrin's eyes glinted, but as he looked in Beleg's face the fire in them died, and they went grey, and he said in a voice hardly to be heard: 'I wonder, friend, that you deign to come back to such a churl. From you I will take whatever you give, even rebuke. Henceforward you shall counsel me in all ways, save the road to Doriath only.' Children of Húrin, chapter VII

They’re both stubborn and they’ve found a way to work around it because they know that there are no subtle background messages to what the other is saying.

And, of course, to close, I’d like to point out that autistics tend to find each other because they feel understood in a world that is as foreign as a different world.  Perhaps Túrin, coming to a kingdom of people who aren’t even of the same race as his own, found solace in someone who understood the way his mind worked without having to explain anything, and that someone was Beleg.  Never before had he known anyone who so instinctively understood the way his mind worked; and Beleg, thousands of years old, alone even in a realm filled with his own people, found in a human child a sense of purpose and validation that he’d not even known he was missing his whole life, and chose a mortal as his closest friend.

TLDR, there is no TLDR.  I’ve way overthought this and as a result I’m not sure how to summarize it.

If I think of anything I missed in my essay here, I’ll add it later in the comments or a reblog or something.

[noxtivagus]

i've been using my priv twt a lot lately & i've been rambling sm abt ffxiv n other stuff but i think Soon i will get back to tumblr

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Toes are weird. They are like a Mandelbrot if you look close enough

[todayisafridaynight]

Sup, I've been silently lurking and liking stuff on your blog for atleast 1 year now (I can't exactly remember when, I just know that it's probably a year now if not then almost a year) and I love your art so much. Your MineDai art is lovey and funny (and what introduced me to you), but seriously... you creating MasaDai art is the wish I didn't think would happen and thank god it did. I see it as a crack ship and almost no one ships it from what I've seen before, so to have someone do some art is great and it's from you so it's more lovely. The moment I saw Masato's emo looking punk ass and know that he is around the same age as Daigo, then dressing up in a more formal way in his later years... I knew this can be a ship, a funny one even (and even funnier with Ichi and others). Thank you for this blessing.

Anyways, I love your art and it always makes me laugh or atleast smile. Ngl, it also did motivate me to keep improving and practicing to draw better 💙. And maybe create some fanart as well when I'm finish being shy 😅 lol

(Ps. I noticed something and I find it funny how people tend to (mostly) ship Daigo to characters that are canonically dead or never to be seen again after their appearance in one canon game XD. Like bro's romantic life is a mess, they be leaving or dropping like flies. Okay that's it, bye bye. Have a good or atleast a decent night/day. 🤗)

hi howdy lurker, thanks for stickin round so long ! :^)

ALWAYS happy to hear people likin my stuff and how it can make their day better whether it's makin em laugh or it's just something they can look at and go 'oh sweet', it's my main drivin force for drawin so much so i'm glad to hear it every so often ^^

SAME ON MASATO/DAIGO THO i remember playing Y7 and my immediate reaction to masato was just that he was like daigo if rgg leaned more into him being goth and it KO'd me. i just needed them to be A Thing immediately- AND THE FACT HE DOES BRUSH UP AND 'BECOME DOMESTICATED' IS SOOOOO (masumi saying that they should think similar to each other since they're about the same age is, while very VERY small, does feed my delusions more too so that's always fun). i can't even blame people for not expanding on their potential more though: masato already is a controversial character to talk about, so trying to discuss him for too long kinda gets awkward. i'll be the freak soldier willing to bear that burden of loving him tho 🫡

i could talk hours and write essays about masadai so i'll spare you the rest of the ramble: it makes me so happy to hear people pick up drawing more after following me 😭❤ art's so fun and it's always great seeing what other people can make and do, and it's such a personal experience so whenever i get to be a part of that somewhat it makes me overjoyed :') i'd love to see what you make if you ever want to share it with us anon 🤭 but no pressure, i get being shy about wanting to share things you draw, so even if you never post anything just know i'm still supportin you and what you do and i hope you're havin fun !

[figueroths]

it’s the mental illness but every time i see people say they love getting comments and kudos I’m like damn that’s crazy that’s the part i hate the most ❤️

[arabella377]

oh, to be forgiving and have friends. Or have pride, maybe even self respect, and die alone

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[alastor-simp]

"Disgusting, Aren't They?" -Alastor w/out gloves x Female Reader

❥Summary- Alastor is almost never seen without gloves adorning his hands, but one particular day, he doesn't wear them, catching your eye.

❥Tags: Alastor x female reader, claws, Alastor hands, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, adorable, seeing Alastor hands for the first time, hint of spice, a bit of a spicy end, kissing, making out, alastor is a tease.

❥Notes: Here is the story I had ask all of you if I should write so here it is. Always wanted to know what his hands looked like, since he is always wearing gloves on his hands. Enjoy:)

"Ahh! What an eventful day it has been!" Alastor announced to the residents of the hotel, as he strode into the lobby. Upon him entering the room, everyone let out a gasp. His outfit was slightly ripped at the bottom with blood splattered all over him, head to toe. His gloves were dripping wet and certain chunks of unknown anatomy was on certain parts of his hair. He still had a smile on his face, but his gums were exposed in the smile, letting everyone know he was still pissed. No one uttered a word, unless they wanted to end up like the demon that had decorated his suit in their gore. Charlie was the one to break silence: "Umm Alastor. What happened to you?" Alastor didn't respond for a bit, but then he let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh nothing of importance, my dear. Well, I am off to my quarters. I'll leave my attire out by the door for you to pick up, Niffty." He looked down at Niffty, who just smiled at him, saying "Yes Sir", before he walked up the stairs, soon disappearing from everyone.

He may have left the room, but there were still bloody footprints left from him. The silence soon broke the room, with everyone questioning what the hell just happened, except Husk as he was used to that sort of stuff. “Did you see Smiles toots? He was marinated in that sh**? Angel leaned against you, while your head was still pointed to where Alastor walked off too. "Yeah..." was your only response back as you kept thinking about what the hell happened and also if Alastor was okay. He seemed find physically, but you were worried about emotionally since he seemed more ticked off then usual. You wanted to go and talk to him, but it seemed better to wait a bit until he cooled off.

The day went by normal as usual, just without the presence of a certain deer demon. He hadn't even come down for dinner, making you a bit worried. Having come to a conclusion, you decided to head up to his room, hopefully he has calmed down by now. You were few feet away from his room, when you noticed the bloody stain on the rug next to it. Ahh, Al probably left the bloody clothes outside for Niffty to grab. You felt hesitant to even knock. You had gotten close to Alastor since you have been at the hotel, and you didn't want to break the close bond you two had built just by doing this. He made it clear not to be disturbed, but you at least wanted to make sure he was okay after today's shocking events. Tapping on the door, you awaited for a response, but received nothing. You called out: “Alastor?”, but once again you heard no sound for the other side. “Listen, I know you don’t want to be disturb, but I wanted to come and see if you were okay. Is that alright with you?”

Silence was all you got back, but then you heard the sound of the door unlocking. You heaved a sigh of relief, glad that Alastor was allowing you to come inside. Turning the knob, you walked inside and let out a small gasp at the sight of Alastor. In his room, that was split between the hotel and the pocket dimension that fused into the corner sat Alastor. He was sitting on his bed, head facing down, not looking at you. The only difference is that he was not wearing his regular suit, he was bare in front of you. His chest was colored the same tone as him, but layered with a multitude of scars. A towel was wrapped around his neck, signifying that he had just taken a bath. His legs were still clothed thankfully, as it would be a shock if he was fully naked in front of you. A flush still made its way to your cheeks as this was the first time you have ever seen him so exposed.

“I’m sure I made it aware that I didn’t want to be disturbed, my dear.” He spoke, lifting his head to peer up at you, his signature smile slightly strained on his face, along with the loud static emanating from him. You turned your head away, embarrassed: while telling Alastor that you were aware, but you still wanted to see him especially since he wasn’t present for dinner. His eyebrow arched at your little reaction, wondering why your cheeks were colored scarlet. It soon clicked for him, and he started smirking, glowing crimson eyes filling with amusement. “Something wrong, my dear?”, his static voice held a bit of smugness to it as you continued to look away from him. “N-nothings wrong. Just…um….you alright?” You looked back at him, rubbing your neck.

Alastor smile sorta dropped for a bit, before going back to normal: “Everything is splendid!” You continued to eye him before asking “Are you sure?” The smile he held became strained again and he turned his head down again. You slowly walked up to his bed, but refused to sit down unless he gave you the okay. His eyes peaked at you, observing you until he nodded his head, letting you know it was fine to sit next to him. You slowly sat down a few inches from him, since you knew about his boundaries. None of you uttered a word, just sat in pure silence. You decided to break it asking him once again if he was okay. A soft sigh left his lips as he lifted his head back up again to look at you, this time without a smile.“Had a little run-in with one of Vox’s goons when on my afternoon stroll. Their constant praddle was nothing of importance to me, and I continued to ignore them. Until that s͓͎̠̾̓͑c̢͖͇̀͘ò̺̦̪͛͘u̡̪͙̾͒̓n̪͍̠̾͛͠d̘͓̘͆̓͝r̞̼͆̚e͎̓̓̔͜͜l̞̘͚̾̿ threw an insult regarding my dear mother. After that….well, let’s just say that d͍̞͉̿̾̈́e͙̘̝͛͒̚m̺͉̿́͐͜o̞͙͋̈́͌n͔̘̞͐̈́͊ w͓͇͕̐̓͘i̝̝̝͋̓l̘̟̠̿̈́͘l͓̼͎̔̓͊ n̘͉̪͌͑͝o͔̠̔͌͛͜ l͍͓͔̐̀͝o͎̙̙̿͋n̼̟̻̓͘͠g̫̺͍͋̈́͠e͔̞̟͛͝͝r͔͍͙̈́͋̐ b̝̪͑͘͠e̪̠̺̿͋͋ s͕͉̪̈́͒͝e̻̼͔͒̓̕e͉͎̔͋̚n̢͓̞̓͌́ ö͚̻́̿͠r͓͓̼̿̿͝ h͇̻͆̀͆ë̠͓́͒̓a͖̞̝͋͝r̦̞͊͘̚d͔͙̼͛̓ f͍͚͑̀͠r̫̫͍͒͒͝o̡͇͚̓͘m̙͍̼̀͊̒ a̦̺̻͆̓̽g̠͙̓̔̽a̡͖̻͛͌̔i͎̞̝̔͑͆n̢̺͊͛͘."

The air grew thick with static, and the walls began to darken with shadows. His crimson eyes had switched into radio dials, that only appeared when he was enraged. You felt your body tensed up, as you had never seen Alastor so infuriated that he would drop his signature smile. Part of you wanted to hug him while the other wanted to respect him with his touch aversion. Slowly moving your hand, you placed it on his back, rubbing small circles on it. A loud snarl was heard next to you, his radio dialed eyes watching you. You said nothing but wore a kind smile at him. The both of you continued to stare at each other, as the static began to die down and his eyes had returned to normal. He seemed apologetic, as he knew you were only trying to provide him comfort, something he was not experienced in a long time. "Forgive me. I did not mean to frightened you." Shaking your head at him, you told him it was alright and continued to rub his back.

The both of you remained in peaceful silence for a few minutes, as your eyes stayed on Alastor, observing him. Your irises soon locked on to his hands, which made you let out a small "oh" as it was the first time you had seen his hands without gloves. Alastors ears picked up on the sound you made and looked at you, curious. He followed the direction of your eyes to his hands, then back to you. "Oh sorry, just...it’s the first time I have seen you not wearing gloves." A silent laugh let his lips, as he lifted one of his hands up, clenching and unclenching his fingers. "Ahh yes, they were in dire need of a wash." You couldn't keep your eyes off them. Hesitating, you looked up at Alastor while you fidgeted with your hands. "Can...can I observe them?" He stilled for a second at your words, not expecting you to say that. Shrugging his shoulders, he moved to face you, and extended one of his hands out. "I don't see why not."

Moving your hands, you lifted his up and began to study it. His arms stilll contained scars, but instead of his regular skin tone, they were dyed a charcoal black. At the top of his hands were long red nails that extended out. They seemed very sharp just by looking at them, His palms were big and slightly cold to the touch as you began to trace your fingers over it and the markings on them. Alastor felt goosebumps starting to appear at your soft caresses. His crimson eyes continued to look at you, observing how intrigued you looked. "Disgusting, aren't they?" Alastor voice rang out, breaking your concentration. Wait what? Disgusting? You eyed him with confusion, wondering why he said that. Alastor held a somber smile, before it enlarged to show all of his sharp teeth. "Well these hands have caused many atrocities, in hell and when I was alive. They are stained, filthy, hideous."

When Alastor continued to watch you, he was put off by your sadden expression. Slowly, you began to raise his hands, closer to your face. Leaning closer, you pressed on kiss on his fingers, causing him to jolt it shock. It didn't end there, you continued to trail kisses from his fingers to the back of his hand, before you finally stopped. Using your other hand to grab the other, you lifted them both up and placed them on your cheeks, as you smiled up at Alastor. "While it is true that you have done many unholy actions with these hands, they still are strikingly beautiful." It felt like someone one was squeezing his chest. Alastor felt his a warmness radiating from his cheeks, and he could pick up the swishing sounds from his wagging tail. What a lovable doll you are!

It happened so quick, one second you were looking at Alastor and then the next, he was in front of your face, pressing his lips against yours. Eyes shooting up, you were left stunned. Alastor was kissing you right now?! His eyes were closed, as he inched a bit closer, continued to hold your soft cheeks. His kiss was timid and unsure, showing how inexperienced he was. He bit at your lip, telling you to open your mouth. Heading his request, you loudly moaned into the kiss as your tongues began to intertwine. His lips curved a bit into a smirk, finding your sounds enticing. The both of you soon fell against his bed, with Alastor on top of you, his warm scarred body touching yours. The kiss soon broke, leaving you a panting mess. Alastor leaned up at bit, his hands moving from your cheeks to being placed on the bed, allowing himself to gaze at you. Your eyes were glazed with desire, lips wet from all the kissing, and cheeks colored scarlet. A static chuckle erupted from him, as he began to trace his fingers on your lips. "What a vexing expression. Keep looking at me like that and I won't be able to control myself." His voice had deepened, lacking his usual radio effect, causing your heart to race.

He had leaned back up, this time sitting on top of you, moving his hands to your sides. "Since you find my hands so attractive, is there anything you want me to do with them? Tell me, darling. What do you desire~?" His hands began to stroke your sides, causing you to gasp. They traveled from your sides, to your belly, then arriving at your chest, giving the soft mounds a squeeze. Gasping out a moan, you called out his name. Alastor still held a devilish smirk, eyes full of lust as he tilted his head, waiting for your answer. "Darlingggggg~? I'm waitingggggggg~." Singing out to you, he continued his ministrations, causing you to moan. Biting your lip, you felt embarrassed to tell him what you wanted. "touch me", was what you whispered out. "Louder, my dear." Alastor expression was filled with mischief. You knew he heard you, but he wanted to keep tormenting you. "Touch me, Alastor." you said again a bit louder. Alastor chuckled, leaning down again to his original position on top of you, one hand place on the bed to hold himself up. "Where exactly? Apologies, my dear, but you weren't very clear with your directions." Rolling your eyes, you looked away from him, telling him he knew where.

"There are many places my hands could be, darling. Do you prefer them here?" His hand moved to your chest, squeezing it while his nail traced the little nub. You moan again, looking back at Alastor. "Or here?" His hand traveled now to your thigh, giving it a pinch. "Come now, my sweet. Tell me where? He was driving you insane. Your mind was in disarray from the pleasurable sensations as he continued to mess with your body. "Everywhere, Al! Touch me all over please!" A static laugh filled the air, as his crimson eyes eyed you hungrily. His hands soon returned back to your cheeks, as he leaned down, face in front of yours. "Good girl." was what he whispered out, as his lips descended back into yours, giving you another mind-numbing kiss.

-END-

Tag List:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

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, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

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@lillylovesalastorsm1

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Stuck like glue

Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness"

A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish.

Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader

WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction.

Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set

You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it. 

The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay. 

“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”

 He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.

“Coop?”

You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention. 

“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot. 

“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.” 

You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt.. 

“Cooper! What happened to you?” 

Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag. 

“Do you have any on you?” 

A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”

Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.

“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm. 

You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly. 

“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied. 

Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach. 

After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem. 

Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes. 

“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”

You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”

“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”

Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”

An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler 

“Open up.”

He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again. 

You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead. 

“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems. 

“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”

You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”

The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.” 

Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so. 

“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless. 

“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”

He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”

The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in. 

Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy. 

The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper. 

He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up. 

“You ain’t gonna share?” 

You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”

A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail. 

“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”

He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”

You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate

“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side. 

His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”

You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”

You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”

You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”

Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”

He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.

“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”

The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”

You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.

“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”

Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.

“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.  

Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.

Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth. 

“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.

The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache. 

“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

would you ever consider writing for jacob elordi? b/c now i'm craving him with a lawyer gf too😭😭 like he would sooo be with someone smart. those airport pics? buying books for her. the world? shocked he's not with a model.

Out of my league || Jacob Elordi x reader

A/n: love love love!!! And yes i plan on making more jacob fics :) i felt like i needed to post smth so here 😭

Warnings: none

Wc:

For the longest time, Jacob has always stayed private about his relationships. Whenever he would be asked in interviews, he would acknowledge he was in a relationship but never went into detail into who it was.

Fans have since then speculated that he was dating a model, or even another actress. Especially after an interview he had where he was asked if he was seeing anyone and he responded with “Yeah, I am. But I think she’s out my league to be honest,” with that boyish grin.

The two of you met while you were at a cafe in Boston, studying for an upcoming test when he left his wallet at the counter. You obviously knew who he was, I mean, who didn’t?

Jacob found you crazy attractive. Not just because of your looks but because you were smart. It wasn’t everyday he would bump into a Harvard student studying law.

After about two years of dating, the two of you decided that it wouldn’t matter if fans found out the two of you were dating. No one’s opinion would change anything.

jacobelordiupdates_

Liked by 3,047,183 people

Jacob spotted at Sydney airport buying books 👀 wonder where he’s off to?

view all comments

user1: 😍😍

user2: he’d be my airport crush omds

user3: he’s so hot I cant.

user4: the fit.

user5: damn his gf is so lucky

y/n_y/l/n: he’s actually coming to see me 🙃

↘️ user6: who even are u 😭

~

And so when he came to Boston to visit you—the day before valentines—he decided to finally post you on his instagram. Undoubtedly, Jacob’s fans went into a frenzy. Going crazy at the fact that they were wrong and that he was not dating model, or an actress like they suspected, but a Harvard law student.

jacobelordi

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, sydneysweeney, archmadekwe, and 9,397,028 others

What the monkey on the wall says 🐒❤️

tagged: y/n_y/l/n

view all comments

y/n_y/l/n: mwah!

↘️ jacobelordi: 😚😚

user1: OMG OMG OMG

user2: everyone wake up, Jacob posted about his gf

user3: so she isn’t a model…… WE WERE SO WRONG LMAO

user4: did anyone notice her comment on jacobelordiupdates_ post yesterday 😭😭

user5: oh to be her 😩

user6: she’s a Harvard law student? omfg I’m curious as to how they even met

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: ☕️🔑

↘️ user7: IS THIS A HINT LOL

~

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by jacobelordi and 10,037 others

nope not a model, just your average Harvard law student!!

view all comments

jacobelordi: so much better than a model babe 🥱

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: hehehehehe 🥰

user1: JACOB IN THE THIRD PIC

user2: isn’t that the book he bought at the airport yesterday 😭

↘️ user3: YES!

↘️ user4: that was what I was thinking too 🤔

↘️ user5: that’s so cute aweee

user6: the caption. love her for that lmao

user7: she’s so luckyyy

user8: the fact that everyone for sure thought Jacob was dating a model 😬

↘️ jacobelordi: they thought wrong. law students do it better

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: lol sorry to burst ur bubble x

↘️ user8: OMG OMG U BOTH ANSWERED

user9: finally, a celebrity not dating some other celebrity or model 😂

user10: how can a Harvard student be out of Jacob Elordi’s league?!

[toruro]

— ✧ the cake in the back

pairing. choi seungcheol x reader

description. cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

genre. smut, fluff

tags. rich dilf cheol, bakery owner reader, or4l (f receiving), car s3x, kitchen s3x, pet names (angel), cr3ampi3, aprons ... hehe

w/c. 3.8k+

a/n. IGNORE THE TITLE OKAY I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY. look i know it's corny and i literally am writing this on a whim but happy father's day

"soobin's not with you today?" your voice is cheery and gentle when you greet your regular.

mr. choi smiles and shakes his head. "shocking, i know," he laughs in that deep and velvety tone that has you bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet out of pure giddiness.

"a pleasant surprise," you reply, putting on some gloves as mr. choi approaches the counter. it's near closing, and it's around that time of day where people usually don't come in as much, so you've been alone and just cleaning up the space yourself. "what can i get you, mr. choi?"

the handsome man chuckles, flicking his wrist as he pushes some hair back, the reflective surface of his wrist watch (that you definitely don't want to know the price of because it might just make you pass out) glinting under your bakery's warm lights. "thought i told you to stop calling me that. seungcheol is much better considering ..." he searches for the words for a moment. "... we see each other so regularly," he concludes.

"i've got to maintain some level of professionalism, don't you agree, mr. choi?" you tease. "the regular, i'm assuming? two banana breads?"

"you already know it."

grinning, you nod and pull up a box. "how's soobin? i haven't seen him or you in a while. i'm starting to miss my favorite customer."

"i'm sure soobin would be flattered to hear that. he's doing well, i couldn't bring him today since he's got a swimming class this evening," seungcheol explains, pulling out his wallet that's donned in some brand name that looks so expensive you don't even know how to pronounce it. you move down the counter grab some of the bread which is on your far left, and he walks down on the other side to match you, keeping up the conversation.

"ah yes. he seems to be around that age to start learning. better now than never, honestly. my younger brother didn't learn until he was older and it did not seem easy," you say with a giggle, bringing out the tongs to grab two small loaves.

seungcheol nods in agreement. "that, and i'm planning on taking the two of us on a vacation spot in a few months ... not sure where yet, but soobin's been wanting to go to a beach location for ages," he tells you, and your heart swells.

the image of soobin and seungcheol, goofing around on a beach send a warm feeling through your body. it's also maybe an added plus that there's a flicker in your mind of what seungcheol would look like in nothing but swim trunks, skin shining from the water under the beaming sun, dark hair splayed across his forehead.

you wonder what he's hiding beneath that plain, beige t-shirt of his. his arms are somewhat exposed, and from just the little bit of muscle that peeks out and flexes when he moves around, you think you can safely assume he's got much more going on in the places where your eyes can't reach.

realizing he's still right in front of you, you blink down hard as an attempt to pull yourself back into reality, eyes flickering up at the handsome man in front of you.

"s-sounds fun," you say honestly, packing the bread and handing it to him over the counter. in this moment, seungcheol catches sight of the apron you've got on. it's light pink and hugs your figure so nicely, he can't help but comment on it.

"new apron, huh?"

shyly, you look down and nod. you hadn't expected him to notice. "uh, yeah. my employees got it for me as a birthday gift, actually."

seungcheol furrows his brows as he hands you his card so you can charge him. "it's cute. was your birthday, um, recent?"

you nod casually, tapping at your machine for a second before handing back his card, trying to ignore the way his comment first comment has your stomach flipping and flopping around. "yeah, it was a few days ago."

"i'm sorry, i didn't know," he says sincerely, causing you to frown.

"hey, don't worry about it. it's not something i expect my customers to know and—"

"let me treat you to something," seungcheol says abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence. he realizes after that it's a bit rude, but something about the way you brush him off as just a customer makes him feel the need to prove you wrong.

"i—i'm sorry?" you ask, and for a moment seungcheol almost mistakes your confusion for apprehension, but then he drinks in the way you look up at him curiously, lips slightly parted, and he relaxes.

"you're closing soon, right? let me ... treat you to something," he repeats. "a coffee or something, if you don't mind."

"oh, i can't possibly impose like that, especially when you've got to pick up soobin and—"

"i wouldn't be offering if you were imposing. he's getting picked up by my friend anyways—his son and soobin are going to have a play date and stuff and—" he's rambling, seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to care. "basically what i'm saying is you don't have to worry about that. seriously. wait—not that i'm forcing you. you can totally say no, i just ..." he sighs, "don't want you to say no because you think you'll be imposing. 'cause you won't be."

when you smile brightly up at him, eyes glittering and laugh cheery, a wave of relief washes over seungcheol. "i—thank you for the reassurance. i'd love to get coffee, but i do have around twenty more minutes before closing and i still have some stuff i need to clean up and i'm not sure if you—"

"i'll wait." he pauses, then adds, "and help."

you're a bit apprehensive at first—a customer helping you out with closing? but you're quick to learn that once cheol has his mind set on something, it isn't the easiest to pull him away from it—and right now cheol is determined to treat you, as he put it.

the next forty-five minutes is spent with you directing seungcheol around your bakery. he's a surprisingly fast learner and before you know it, all the pastries are loaded in the back, the dishes are cleaned, your floors are swept, and suddenly you find yourself outside of your shop with the doors locked, standing next to seungcheol who watches with you a clouded expression.

"thank you so much for the help," you say bashfully. "you're already taking me—" is it too soon to say he's taking you out? oh well, what's done is done. "—taking me out. isn't this a little too much?" you joke, wiggling your brows.

seungcheol chuckles and shakes his head, pulling his eyes out of his pocket and twirling around the chain around his fingers. fuck, he has really nice fingers—

seungcheol's voice interrupts your thoughts "do you have a car or—"

"i usually take the bus home," you explain, rocking back and forth on your feet. cheol frowns, but doesn't say anything. maybe he can fix that, but that's an thought for another time as he points at his suv, all black from top to bottom, with tinted windows and full black wheels.

there's a silence that envelopes the two of you when you slip into the passenger seat, placing your work bag on the floor. seungcheol is already in the driver's seat, key stuck in but not turning on the engine just yet.

you glance between the sight of your bakery out the window, and back at seungcheol who already has his gaze on you.

"you're going to have to be transparent with me for a second," seungcheol says seriously, locking eyes with you as you shift your body to face him. "and i want to make sure we're on the same page about ..." about whatever is going to go down.

you bite down on your lip, and even though cheol knows you're doing it absentmindedly, he can't help but feel his pants grow tighter at the way it puffs up when your teeth release it.

"i ... i think you know we're on the same page," you reply shyly, shifting a little in your seat to try and make up for the silence.

"you want this?" cheol clarifies, one eyebrow cocked up.

a feeling of pride swelters in his chest when you reply without hesitation, "i do." and then a bit more quietly, you add, "i, uh, have for a while."

now cheol usually likes to tread lightly; he doesn't want to mess around and is great at keeping his dick in his pants but there's just something about the way you look at him so cutely.

you look at him like you know all the nasty things he wants to do to you, and you bat your eyelashes like you don't care—like you'd let him. like you'd take every damn thing he gives you without a single word of complaint, and it's driving him crazy.

again, cheol is great at keeping his foot on the brake, but then you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip and suddenly he's slamming his feet on the accelerator.

wrapping one hand around your neck, he pulls you to smash his lips onto yours. it's a gentle kiss—tentative, as if you're both testing the waters. pressing against each other as your faces tilt, your hands find purchase in his hair when cheol laps at your bottom lip. that's where it all takes off.

the kiss turns from innocent and sweet to sloppy and fast within a matter of moments and suddenly you're grappling at his arms, his hands are searching for your tits, gripping at the flesh and before you know it, you're being thrown to the back.

seungcheol nearly slams your back down onto the seats, your loose shirt riding up your stomach in the process to reveal the lower half of your bra. "fuck," he mutters, low and under his breath in that raspy sort of way that has your clothes feeling too hot and your cunt too empty.

"seungcheol," you moan, unbuttoning your work pants and shoving them off your legs, along with your panties in one go, leaving your wet cunt open and bare. he doesn't take a moment to shuffle back and bring his face down to be level with your core, eyes looking up at you with some kind of mischievous glint that has your stomach churning.

with a bit of hesitance, he places a soft kiss over your clit, watching you carefully to see how you react. when you whine and arch your back against the leather seats, he figures that that reaction is good enough, and this time lets his tongue out, swiping it against the throbbing bad.

"sweet," he murmurs, lips moving down against your folds. the movement and vibrations send sparks through your core and up your spine, and you shudder at the feeling as one hand flies down to grip at his dark hair. "so fuckin' sweet," he repeats before diving his tongue back, swiping it up and down between your folds.

"ah-h-h, seungcheol—fuck," you whimper when he presses the wet muscle flat against your drooling hole, continue to circle around and tease you. fervently, cheol—to put it bluntly—makes out with your cunt. digging his face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clit when he adjusts his neck to lap and suck against unexplored areas, leaving you mewling into your arm as you try and sit still for him.

there isn't much room in the back, and to be frank, your limbs are in an uncomfy position, and you can only imagine the strain cheol is feeling, bent over and legs in an awkward position when he holds your hips and pulls you closer so he can smother himself in your pussy. he doesn't seem to mind though, lifting his head every few moments to grin up at you with hazy eyes, glossy lips, and a drenched chin, off-handedly commenting something dirty about how nice you taste, how he could live between your legs, how you're driving him fucking insane.

it's the meticulous flicks of his tongue, the deep and guttural words that escape his honeyed lips, and the girth of his fingers when he finally plunges them into your warm cunt that bring you to your edge. it only takes a few rubs and curls against your aching walls before your shaking, crying out his name as you thrust upwards, holding his face down so you can grind against him.

and he whispers the words, "cum angel," so sweetly—a complete contrast to the way his tongue is scooping up all your arousal—and so you cum like you never have before.

fuck my life, you think to yourself as the waves of your orgasm finally hit you. cheol rides you through the high, and he does it good. so good, you're left breathless when he pulls away from your cunt with a dopey smile and feather light kisses all up your thigh and stomach, and then finally your lips.

"my place?" he asks, stroking your cheek gingerly as you blink up at him. and when you nod hazily, he pats you lightly, helping you back to the passenger seat before helping you slip on your panties and pants back on. this time, when cheol gets back into the driver's seat, he places one hand on the steering wheel, the other secure over your still quivering thigh. "relax angel," he murmurs, and you can't help but burn at the gentle words. this can't be the same man who ate you out like you were damn piece of cake just moments earlier.

the drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable. if anything, you're fucking enthralled. when he stops at a red light, cheol looks over at you and when your eyes meet you can't help but giggle together until you're cheeky, grinning mess by the time you pull up to his house.

parking in the lavish drive way, cheol tells you to hold on for a second, getting out of the car and making his way to your side, to open the door for you.

"i didn't know that this what you meant by coffee," you giggle, stumbling out next to him and letting him wrap an arm around your waist to help you up the steps to his house. it's a beautiful estate, really, but you aren't too focused on admiring the luxury right now—you're much more interested in what's to come between you and cheol.

and you're about to find out soon enough because as soon as he opens the door, lets you in, and closes it behind you, cheol's hands are all over you. with your eyes closed as you two engage in a hot mess of tongue and teeth and lips, your rocking back and forth in his arms, his legs leading to you to some place you're not really aware of until you feel something hard and cool press against your lower back.

"wear the apron," cheol tells you firmly when he pulls away, pressing you against his cold stone counter. you knit your eyebrows together in confusion, but let your bag that's still on your shoulder drop onto the counter, taking out your apron without hesitation.

it's now that you realize you're in his kitchen. if you weren't in such a ... intimate setting, you would have admired the design, the appliances—all of it. perhaps you'd even wonder what it's like to bake in here, cooking up soobin's favorite banana bread with cheol by your side and—you save those thoughts for another time.

"w-why?" you murmur in response to cheol's request, as you pull the apron out, pulling the pink strap over your head, tying it behind your back as the ache between your legs begins to creep up on you again. cheol's big hands find purchase on your hips again, holding down you down with a firm grip as he turns you around and pushes your back down.

"'cause," he grunts out, and you nearly moan when you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling and fabric rustling as he shoves his pants and boxers down. it hardly takes a second before his hands are at the hem of your own pants, yanking them down and giving you a moment so you can step out of them.

you wiggle your ass around for a second, turning to look back at cheol with pleading eyes and ask him to just fuck you already, but then he locks a hand under your jaw, cupping the underside of your face and pulling it up so your back arches into his touch. you can feel the angry, hard head of his cock prodding against the plush of your ass and the feeling of him brush against you has you whining.

"patience, angel," he coos, pressing his face next to the shell of your ear and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head before easing his way through your folds. you can't even see him but you just know he's big—fat length rubbing up and down your folds as he coats himself in your arousal as you whisper incoherent pleas for more.

"cheolie ..." the nickname slips from your lips with out as much as a brainless thought but it has cheol's head rewiring.

"fuck, say that again," he demands, snaking the hand that's not holding your face down your back until it's gripping the cute little bow of your apron.

you hum as you feel him tugging at the fabric, jerking your body backwards and pushing your cunt harder against him, the fat tip brushing against your sensitive clit. "cheolie!" you mewl again, and you're really not expecting the way he jams his cock into you in one go. not that you're complaining of course.

'cause how could you complain when he's stretching you out so nicely? when his cock is so long it's already hitting kissing your cervix and hitting spots inside of you that you didn't even think were possible to reach? when he's so deep that his balls are pressed against your burning core and his pelvis is flush against your ass?

"you feel so good," cheol moans, and you squeeze around him even tighter when you hear the low, gruff words escape his lips. "this pussy was made for me, huh?" he breathes out with a chuckle, as he pulls out halfway before pulling the strings of the apron so your core meets him halfway, slamming his cock back into you.

"oh god," you moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try and swivel your hips against his for some added stimulation.

"gonna think abt this every time you wear this, won't you?" cheol grunts, twisting his fingers around the bow in the back so he hold onto it tighter.

the thought runs through your fucked out mind for a moment; you're gonna have to walk into work tomorrow, and if you're wearing the apron, you'll have to sit through the day knowing that you had cheol's cock buried inside of you under this same fabric—if you aren't wearing it, you'll have to come up with an excuse for your lovely employees as to why you're not wearing their precious gift.

which option you're going to go with, though, is swept from your mind when cheol sticks a finger into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he fucks into you harder.

what a moment, you think. getting railed on the counter of a man who you always thought was out of reach. your insides feel like jelly as his fat cock runs against your walls, veins and curves pressing and dragging through you as heat envelopes you.

and as his thrusts increase in force, you start to realize that cheol is nothing if he is not relentless. just when you think you've whimpered his name so much you think you might lose your voice, he's ramming into you harder, punching the air right out of your lungs as broken moans and squeaks that have him losing his damn mind.

"what a fuckin' angel, creaming me cock so well," he praises, yanking you back and forth at an unforgiving pace to match his calculated thrusts. you feel like you're being thrown around in the best way possible, body throttling every time his hips crash against your ass and cause you to lurch forward and arch your back even more.

and as he goes on, the rub of his cock against you, the press of his balls against your clit, his hand in your mouth and pressing against your jaw—it's all so much and so fast and so good until you're shaking and thrashing in his hold.

"mmf—cheolie, wan' cum," you choke out when you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

"yeah? my pretty angel's gon' cum on my cock?"

"yeah-huh," you answer dazedly, body jerking back and forth as his hips snap more haphazardly now, but still hitting that one sweet spot that has your vision going bleary. "can i cum, cheolie?"

and you ask him so fucking sweetly, he can't hold it in anymore, dazedly grunting out something along the lines of, "yeah, angel, cum f'me," before he spills his hot seed inside of you. the sensation of his cum painting your walls white is the final thing you need before joining cheol with your own orgasm, clenching around him so tightly that it has him gripping down on your hips in a way that you know you'll have bruises tomorrow. not that you mind.

how could you, when you just had the most mind blowing orgasm of your life with the hottest guy you've ever met. as you twitch against him, cheol finally pulls himself out and you whimper lowly at the feeling of being empty even though you know you'd probably pass out if you had his dick in you any longer.

gently, cheol strokes your back and caresses the taught muscles, untying the apron that quite literally had you in a chokehold, letting it fall from your figure. "'m sorry," he murmurs into your neck, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, "was i too rough?"

"n-no," you say, face burning when you realize just how croaky and fucked your voice has become. cheol only laughs at you as you dig your face into your hands as you mumble bashfully, "it was ... great." you're slightly embarrassed, yes, but when you catch the look of endearment on cheol's face, you start to think twice.

as you both attempt to even out your breaths, cheol looks down at you panting against the counter, cum spilling out of your fluttering folds. vaguely, he wonders what you'll look like in a bikini in the bahamas. huh, he thinks, maybe he'll have to ask soobin if it's okay to bring an extra certain someone with them on their vacation this summer.

a/n. how i managed to get this out in one day i don't know. the cheol effect i guess. anyways, hope u enjoyed!

tags. @xcynthiaaa @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @marzmeltdown @todorokiskitten (strikethrough could not be tagged)