If you're still taking requests, do you have headcanons of Hector x ace!reader?
Hector x Ace!reader
Warnings: Nothing too much. Just a few mentions that Hector was technically stalking you and his former idolization habits.
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request. Reblogs and comments appreciated but no pressure
Okay no because he actually respects that so well. Like yeah he’s horny and all that and literally wrote self-insert self indulgent erotica about you and him and all of that but when you share this with him, if he hasn’t pieced it together himself then he will respect that
He would never want to actually do anything that made you uncomfortable (don’t bring up the stalking okay it’s not that bad)
You didn’t specify what exact type of ace you wanted anon. But whatever it might be, Hector will listen and stick to it
I mean. Sex isn’t everything. Hector knows that. His affection and longing for you isn’t solely lust, it’s also a deeply ingrained love for you that he holds. If anything, the lust is just the stuff that has grown on that love and might have just gone over grown from lack of actually putting himself out there and talking to you
But yeah. If sex is a hard no, or just not something that you’re interested in, he understands and holds no ill emotions over it. There are millions of other ways for him to show his love for you. Like cuddling and spending time together, or doing things for each other
This man LOVES you no matter what
I actually think that it lets him find out other ways to show his love to you and allows him to grow even more into valuing you as something human rather than than an idol to worship.
I mean he still sort of does because he loves you that much. But he’s more aware that you’re human and that you might not fully be what he imagines and that that’s okay and will let him get to know you even more.
You're a newly folded paper airplane that gets caught up in Hector's grate. He's a little surprised with the sudden encounter but does his best to help, and you seem very trusting and sweet... Though he insists you're impressive (and pretty), you're rather clumsy, and keep getting stuck with him. A friendship blooms, and you're the first to show him love, and that his efforts are highly appreciated even by other objects.
My first fic, currently up to Chapter 14! Exploring the concept of the Reader as a dateable object (in this case, a paper airplane) rather than the human character, as well as Hector learning how to love a little more healthily and learning what platonic love and support feels like.
Story is strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn (fluff and hurt/comfort) and features a lot of side character interactions (exploring Hector’s dynamic with other dateables). Oh and the human is also here.
I've seen a lot of posts about objects who adore the reader becuass they've always been sweet to them. So I bring the opposite: objects who can't really stand the player becuase the player has severe mental health issues that leads to them neglecting the objects significantly. The objects despise being neglected and living in grime, and can't wait to give the player a piece of their mind once the datviators arrive. But of course, things aren't as cut and dry as they seem.
Anyway below is a prototype sneak peak at the currently nameless fic im building around that idea. Just curious if people would be interested.
TW: severe depression, intrusive thoughts, executive dysfunction
Depression.. wasn't a pretty thing.
It wasn't much like the movies either. Where the poor depressed heroine spent cried picture perfect tears, in a pristine bedroom surrounded by pillows and blankets to cradle the sorrows away. With clean clothes rumpled just enough to display the inner sorrow, the rampant torment of the inner state displayed through running mascara and bleach white pillow cases.
You knew this well enough. Laying on your matress, the blanket feeling of numbness, heavy exhaustion seaping into your bones as your stomach growls. You were hungry. Makes sense, considering the time. With a heavy sigh, you sit up, Trying to ignore the blinking clock on the dresser. Another object of quiet shame, constantly displaying the wrong time after a power outage three months ago. You'd get to setting it, one of these days. When you felt that sense of being alive again, the neurotypical days that seemed farther and farther apart recently. The blinking clock was six hours and twenty three minutes wrong, showing a late 8:46 pm. Meaning it was sometime after two really. Funny how learning the odd quirk was easier to your brain then just fixing the problem.
With nothing in your stomach since the morning before, it was about time you pried yourself out of bed. Swinging aching legs over the side, shuffling until your feet find the slippers you wore constantly. Helped you ignore the layer of crumbs and dust on the floor. Shuffling out of the bedroom, and down the stairs. Past the pile of garbage bags, tied and left by the door from the last time you had managed to try and tidy. You got so close. But lacked that finally stamina to actually take the trash out of the house, leaving them to rot by the door as a testament to everything wrong. It didn't take long before another thin layer of wrappers, takeout containers, flyers and other junk had overtaken the surfaces again. You winced at the sight, as you always did.
"Can't even keep ahead of the trash. Useless."
Ignoring the large pile of dirty dishes piled by the dishwasher, you pull open the fridge and glance inside. Shoving aside a block of moldy cheese, rifling past old vegetables that smelled bd and squished even worse, you found the remains of a takeout you got the night before. Took a minute before you were popping it into the microwave, which had seen better days. Its door and walls were covered in tiny splatters from saucy meals, covering the white innars with disgusting pokedots. You knew it needed to be cleaned. You can't remember the last time you did. The thought itched at the back of your mind, as the food spun round and round. It would take only a few minutes. It would be clean, splatter free. It wouldn't tear at your soul, everytime you looked at it.
But you can't.
Pulling the food out of the container, you grab the cleanest fork, briefly scrubbing it in the sink till it looks less hazardous, and you trudge back upstairs. The dining room table was covered in projects left unfinished, and the living room couches were smothered in laundry that was never folded. Time for another meal on the bed.
Things aren't supposed to be like this. Hell, you didn't WANT things to be like this. Living like half a person. Things were so nice when it was clean. You'd have energy, you'd be able to cook, to shower. To write fanfiction and to try and learn the piano. A clean house always helped your mood, made you feel like it was okay to keep living. Like you were contributing as a actual person.
But life could never be that kind, could it? The body that was supposed to help you through life decided to put things on expert difficulty. No extra lives. The lack of energy leaves you to continue in this routine. The ease of a schedule that was burned into the broken brain. Sleep. Work. Browse. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
At least you weren't hurting anyone. With no roommates or guests, it's not like the mess was doing anything other then potentially shortening your lifespan and significantly tearing at your self worth. But if the only one hurting was yourself... then it's fine.
"I dont like that prick anyway."
At least thats what you thought. Until a stupid pair of pink glasses come careening through your front door.
Was doomscrolling Ao3 the other day and decided to check our the other Date Everything tags instead of refreshing the HectorxReader one for the umpteenth time.
Naturally I went to Eddie and Volt as I suspected they'd have quite a bit of content, and they did. And I was FED. Tons of just fluff, Hurt/Comfort, some fun little angst pieces too.
And idk. Got me a little sad about how little diversity there is in Hector Fanfiction right now. Its mostly some form of smut. And don't get me wrong, I enjoy reading a lot of them. I've at least checked out all 86 fics, and a lot of them are super well written. Its not a quality issue at all, and there's nothing wrong with smut.
It just feels sometimes that Hectors becoming this overly sexual being. His personality is being stripped away and being replaced with "Shy voyeur horny switch boy". When there's so much material surrounding him for wholesome endeavors. He ADORES the player, not only in a sexual way. He craves closeness yes, and in the vent offers some very spicy dialog. But are we forgetting that his facade fades away into the sweetest man when you actually see him? A man whos never been outside the house, one whos artistically inclined, one who just wants to trail by your side like a lovesick puppy, one whos TOUCHSTARVED and craves affections like a wanderer in the desert?
So much room for wholesomeness. Here's a few off the top of my head.
Post realization Hector and Player going to a pool for the first time, and Hector struggles with self image issues before realizing that everyone being supermodel hot was a objects thing, and that people at the pool look just like him.
Botanical garden date where Hector and You sketch the flowers, but secretly he's been sketching you this whole time.
Pre Realization Hector and Player slow dancing in the attic while the other objects are partying downstairs.
Player realizes Hectors been losing on purpose while playing board games becuase he loves watching the joy on their face when they win.
Again, nothing wrong with smut. I get that we all want the vent man carnally. But let's also love him in a wholesome way too. He deserves it all.
I need to lock in and get back to work but I also need that vent whimpering so here you go, a little more Hector to relieve pressure in my brain.
That fucking book.
When you'd teased Hector about 'grate-based erotica', you hadn't expected him to actually pull out a novel's worth of filth and start reading from it. A novel's worth of filth about exactly what he wanted to do to you. All teeth and hands and mist and ragged breath. And apparently, that was just the beginning! Literally the first page!
For all that he waxed lyrical about being frightened to show his face to you, about being terrified of what you'd think of him, Hector had a markedly bold streak. He hadn't needed a lot of coaxing to share his fantasies with you, and the way he laughed at your glazed eyes and parted lips - a warm, breathy sound you could almost feel across your skin, the first real laugh you'd heard from him - belied a love of teasing that didn't quite fit with all his tortured, Phantom Of The Opera bullshit.
Well. You could tease with the best of them. And before you met in the attic, you needed to remind Hector that he liked it when you had the power in this relationship. He'd said so himself, after all.
"Have you thought more about my invitation, my love?"
You looked up from tinkering on Mac (shut up, not like that; they'd bruised your ego when they'd suggested time apart after you'd sacrificed your fanfics for them) to see a familiar pair of hands draped over the entrance to the grate in the office. The fingers of one hand waggled in a slow, playful wave.
As you upload your latest Dean Winchester/Bill Cypher oneshot, you reply that you had accepted it already; you wanted to come up to the attic, but you would do so in your own time.
"I understand." The knuckles of one hand pressed against what you assumed was Hector's cheek. "I'm just so terribly bored up here without you, you see."
A pair of eyes appeared from within the gloom as Hector inched closer. "Unless...you are attempting to placate me? Hoping this fancy will pass and I'll forget about you?"
You cocked your head at him. "Hector," you said gently, dropping any playful teasing for just a second. "that's not the reason. Promise."
"Oh. Alright. Good."
You swore Hector's voice lost a little of its rasping growl; became a little more genuine, and a lot more relieved. Then, he cleared his throat.
"I wondered, then - if you're so busy - if I may regale you with more of my musings."
You heard the rustling of paper within the grate, and your stomach swooped eagerly and your blood frothed with irritation at the same time. The book was back. Great.
Grate. Hahahaha.
"A direct continuation from before. You whimper," Hector began, "at the sharp pressure of my canines against your soft, vulnerable skin. It elicits a growl from me, so deep that you feel it in your chest..."
You smirked, spinning the computer chair away from the desk. Revenge time.
"Our bodies tangle together in a blur of heat and breath as I turn you, pressing your back against the electrical closet. Your fingers slide up the back of my neck as my own hands grip your thigh, hard enough to bruise..."
You walked over to the whiteboard, pulling the chair behind you. Above it, one of Hector's hands still dangled loosely from the grate, as the other held the book open within the vent. As you kneel on the chair to get closer to him, Hector's eyes narrowed in confusion - but not suspicion. Good.
"I feel your heart flutter against my lips as I -- I-I-uhhhhm..."
You reached up, gently but firmly gripped Hector's hand in yours, and ran your fingertip along his palm. It was the first time you'd touched him.
"Am I distracting you from your reading, Hector?" you asked innocently.
You expected Hector to soldier on for at least another few sentences before succumbing to your touch. But no; you heard the book thump against the floor of the vent as Hector immediately gave up and surrendered himself to sensation.
"What reading?" he sighed, turning his hand over so you could draw circles across his palm with your index finger, cradling his knuckles with your other hand. "I've never read a book in my life. I've only, mmmph, only ever existed in this moment, haven't I--ohh, that's really nice."
Your fingers had moved up Hector's hand, over the heel and across the skin of his wrist. For someone who spent a lot of time in blasting cold or dry heat, his skin was so soft. Like velvet. You could feel his pulse thrumming against your fingertips.
"You've got really pretty hands, Hector," you said softly massaging his knuckles with your other hand.
"...do you think so?" Hector asked, in a tone that suggested you could tell him anything at all and he'd believe you.
"I probably think about them more than the smutty books you read me."
A soft whimper.
"What I want them to do to me."
A keening, more despairing whimper.
"I think," you said, as Hector shivered, "that you talk a big game, but you wouldn't know what to do with me up in that attic. Don't you think?"
A muffled groan. It appeared that Hector had buried his face in the crook of his elbow.
"Hector?"
"I've got...mmmmph...I've got some ideas, my love."
"But you're so flustered from just this!" You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the pad of his middle finger. Hector gasped at the feeling of your lips on his skin. "It's very, very cute, but I wonder if you want me to come up so badly so you don't lose your nerve."
"...maybe a little," he admitted, with all the wretched pain of a man on death row. "You cannot blame me for that." You kept pressing soft, slow kisses into his hand, up his wrist. "If someone held, ah, your entire being, your whole self in the palm of their...um...y-you would be eager to know if...if that self was about to be dashed on the rocks of...rejection oh do that again please."
You'd paused your torture to smother a laugh that had crept up your throat. God, he was cute. And this was really, really hot.
Time for your finishing move. Locking eyes with Hector through the grate, you wordlessly ran your tongue over your lips, leaned forward, and licked his middle finger from root to tip.
Hector's breath immediately became ragged and uneven, eyes never leaving yours as you wrapped your lips around the joint of his finger and sucked. His expression - what you could see of it - was a mix of helpless desire, shock and total, absolute devotion. A small, strangled noise escaped his lips; he was trying to tamp down his reaction, proactively saving himself some level of embarrassment, trying not to show how close he was to the edge from just the warm, wet pressure of your tongue against his skin.
Well, he wouldn't be able to do that once you were face to face. You silently promised him that.
You wondered if you could make him come right now, just from this. But you didn't want to be that mean. Hector's first orgasm with another person deserved to be as special as he was.
You drew back, flicking your tongue against his fingertip as a parting gesture, and Hector whined. You'd done it; you finally managed to wrestle his power over words from him. You smiled, just as innocently as before.
"I'll come up when I'm ready," you said. "Okay?"
Hector was breathing heavily, his eyes clouded, lids heavy. "This is going to kill me," he managed. "You're going to kill me. I hope you know that."
You pressed a kiss against the palm of his hand again. Hector's fingers curled up to gently stroke your cheek. It wasn't erotic; just full of tenderness and sweetness. Even when you were being mean to him, Hector's only thought was to pull you closer.
"I'll see you in the attic," you said, slowly pulling away and hopping down from the chair.
Hector sighed longingly. "I'll be there," he said softly, rolling onto his back and basking like a cat. "Dying, slowly. With nothing...nothing else else do but think of you."
"Add more pages to your book," you sang over your shoulder as you walked into the hall. "That'll keep you busy."
The last thing you heard as you walked upstairs - to grab Ben Hwa and frantically seek your own pleasure in the relative privacy of the bathroom - was a heavy sigh as Hector chuckled to himself:
"I'm in love with a monster. That's the only explanation."
Been thinking about Hectors erotica and how Yall call him a freak but you know what?
I bet that man writes like Tolkien and Dickens. Huge, uninterrupted paragraphs of details about Player. Every single detail and thought he has is put down on that paper. Forget that kinky shit. He's out here writing six paragraphs on how your neck looks when tilted slightly to the right, then he's writing another six on how your chest rises slightly as he moves closer, and finally he might write about planting a kiss on it but its surrounded by eighteen chapters of worship for how you might feel against his lips and a long metaphor covering the extremely slight shift in skin tone from shoulder to neck. The entire novel is one extremely complicated sex scene that took 2000 pages becuase he won't rest until he's written down exactly what colour your sheets would be and what percent cotton they are.
Me and a friend were JUST talking about how people view Hector as a yandere/stalker, and our take was that the people who see him that way don't seem to account for the fact that he's been falling in love with you as long as you've been living in the house, but all his feelings are bottled up because he's never been able to express them to you before the dateviators!! My man has LITERAL YEARS of built-up yearning!!!
anon, you understand me. lighthearted rambling below the cut
no dude, like not only that, but my guy probably thought he wasn't ever gonna meet us, like, EVER. hector literally refers to us as a divine force upon meeting him for the first time, which makes total sense considering there's never been a way for objects to interact with humans before the dateviators. it also explains the erotica he's written, too! that's the same energy as people using ao3 for fictional characters: a healthy way to process attraction (conversely, fantina literally collects pieces of our hair and nail clippings [unhealthy/stalker])
there really isn't anything inherently creepy about him doing that since, again, he thought he'd never actually meet the person of his desire. if anything, i imagine he'd be pretty embarrassed about his writing, if not for being prompted with positive questioning. which we can do, and even express enthusiasm over.
i completely understand the appeal of a stalker/creep hector, and i enjoy it too. but my main issue is that there seems to be a lot of mischaracterizations him. (i'm being very unserious here. please have fun hcing hector however you want)
sure, he can be interpreted as creepy, but if you factor in the idea he was admiring us from afar under the belief there'd never be direct interaction, his actions make a lot of sense. they're actually incredibly similar to fawning over fictional characters/celebrities, which is the majority of what these fandom spaces do too lol
i feel like the main difference between him and fantina in terms of creep level is how they handle their affections. yes, what hector does toes the line, (again, though, consider the pretense he never thought he'd meet us!) but fantina's action are out right unhinged, especially when she meets us face-to-face (i love her tho, she's one of my pookies)
idk i could go on and on, but at the end of the day i don't want anyone to feel discouraged/disparaged for imagining hector this way. obviously i feel pretty strongly about him, hence this blog, so i'm a little irked to see him written off as a stalker. (and i'm only referencing to posts i've seen of people saying this with their whole chest. not the wonderful hcs or fanfics)
these are just my own personal opinions/observations! please don't take them to heart if you disagree
Yall telling me that if positions were reverse and you had a little window to watch your favourite fictional character go about their everyday, you wouldn't watch? You wouldn't take a peak? If you had a button to make their life better you wouldn't be spamming it constantly to watch them be happy? That's basically Hectors life before the Dateviators. He's watching his favourite fictional character whos operating on another plane of REALITY and hes thrilled to do so! He writes little xReader fics like y'all are doing right now and he indulges in fantasies that cannot possibly be real becuase in all of existence they never have!!
And then one day, that window is gone? Your favourite character starts talking directly to you, wanting to know you and to befriend you?? Y'all could be cool with that??? Becuase I sure couldn't! You wouldn't take the glimpse of a opportunity to let your favourite character know how much they mean to you? How much they made your life better with their mere existence? How you are rooting for them, how you just want them to be happy, how even through their struggles you want to stay by their side?? Especially since you don't know if they'll ever hear you again?
Hector is just us if we got to talk to our fictional babies okay? Not a stalker, or a yandere (and trust me, I love those characters. Fictionally. And also headcannon him however you wish! He probably did the same for you!)
I LOVE men who would just drool over me no matter how I look. Men that will worship my every breath and would do anything for me. Men who are soft and cuddly but would stand up and protect me when needed. Men who are just absolutely a wreck but will be a wreck with me. Who absolutely have praise kinks. Who have soft voices.
I also LOVE big women. A chubby, cuddly lady or a strong, confident gal.
I’ll start this Date Everything rant by asking for any fic recommendations for Hector/reader, Johnny Splash/reader, or Jacques/reader
TL:DR it’s late and i wanted to read some fics before bed, and the gods did not shine down on me. They kicked me in the teeth and said “cope and start interested in Yandere”
the lack of really any kind of fics about Date Everything characters is sad, and what’s even sadder is that the ones that are there are smut.
- Jacques has 5 /reader fics right now, 4 are smut
- Hector has 53 /reader fics, 33 are smut
Yes, i counted
Secondary rant: Hector and him being a stalker
this is a personal opinion I guess, but stalking is really gross, and I’m sick of seeing it applied to Hector.
Imagine me, reloading the hector/reader tag everyday, in hopes of finding some fics about my insecure lover boy, only to be greeted by more and more non-consensual voyeurism every time.
Stalkers are not fun, wasn’t it a whole thing when people said they want a stalker, they really just want a secret admirer? Can we please bring Hector back to the secret admirer territory? It’s not his fault he was born a vent that cannot communicate with you unless you communicate with him first
I know we’re still in the early days, but most of the time that only means we’ll get more quantity over quality and the flanderization only gets worse as time goes on. I mean nothing to you fic-writers but i hope i can stop Hector from become one of those characters a fandom ruins
and also, fic-writers, I do appreciate you. If fic-writing was up to me, no character would have anything written for them because i don’t have the time nor the skill you guys have. Because of you we have something to indulge in, even if it’s not to my personal preferences. If you do decide to listen to my yammering know that you will have a reader and supporter
98% of these are hand related. I'm not sorry.
Written before offical release, so the two day demo is the only information fueling my ideas.
Hector favourite part of his body is his hands. Its the only part he's willing to show after all. His hands are silky soft. Always slightly twitchy, tremble if you touch them. He takes a lot of pride in them, delicately designing a whole routine for them once he and Player start talking more often. It felt too impersonal to only hide from you, so he put the best of himself out there. Its the part of him that matches your humanity the most, so he deems them the most perfect of his clumsy parts.
One of his hands is just the perfect, toasty temperature, and the other is a beautiful icy chill. One for whichever need player might have, one for warming chilled fingers and the other for soothing flushed foreheads and cheeks.
As shy as he is, he is enthralled when Player decorates his hands. Bracelets, rings, nail polish, doodles with pen. It doesn't matter, if you're is doing it, that's all that matters. He would absolutely die if Player casually slipped a paper ring on his finger while he was caught up in one of his deep rambles.
He loves to talk to the player, will take any chance to speak his deep heart. Years of pining has built up so many words he wasn't able to say, ones that can finally flow freely from his lips.
Kiss his fingertips and you'll have to deal with a sauna for a house for the rest of the afternoon (he will feel extremely bad once he regains control and will try and make things up to you)
Once you've established rapport, you rarely have to touch the thermostat again. Hector is so in-tune with your needs, he acts without thinking. Keeping everything at the perfect temperature. Unless of course, he was lonely. And wanted attention. Though, he still appreciated it when you do.
Hector seems like he'd love playing with hair. Short, long, doesn't matter. He loves watching the strands get tousled by the breeze he generates, loves being able to rake fingers across players scalp, feeling excited and happy at the more interment touch. walking under his vent means there a high chance of a feather light breeze slipping through your hair and down your back.
Have to do this because I feel Very Normal about this cutie pie in the vents. Memorialize the brain worms. This is before full game release so I'm working off Demo info only.
Think about painting his nails. Settling next to his vent on a stepladder, sitting there quietly as he rambles his honeyed words. Hector loves to recite his poetry to you, as your gentle hands grasp his, clipping and buffing the nails before beginning. Direct contact is a bit much for the shy unit, causing his hands to tremble when you hold them. It makes painting his nails fairly tricky, and he is ever so quick to apologize if the polish was to smear. You get around the trembling by just holding one finger at a time, the most contact he can stand without fearing he might fritz out. He loves being able to feel your warmth directly, your skin touching his. Pining is one thing, but being able to interact with you directly...
His favourite part, is just after the coat is done. When you blow ever so gently on his fingers, causing a thrill to surge through his vents. Hector likes to imagine this is how you feel, every time he kicks on. This is the same shiver that ghosts along your spine in the summer, the same sigh that escapes your lungs in the winter.
He likes it best when you choose the glow in the dark colours, ones that shine brighter after he has his chats with you. They stick with him, long after the Dateviators charge runs out. Something to admire, and keep close to his heart. He's constantly torn between treasuring the work you do, and chipping them off purposefully, just to have a excuse for you to touch him again.
Solomon looks up from his book, to where you're laying on his bed, homework in hand. He'd convinced you to take the class "Rhetoric 101: How to win any argument with an angel using biblical quotes" because he'd figured it'd be fun to watch you try to spark up an argument with Simeon. It was a nice perk that you could study together. It hadn't even occurred to him that he might get mentioned in the coursework.
You read over the pages, eyes brimming with amusement. "What could you possibly need 700 wives for?" you ask and he shrugs. "Mostly politics and gaining land," he says but you don't seem entirely convinced. "Might I remind you that this was happening during a period of 80 years?" he says but you just raise your brows at him. "That's still like 9 wives per year, though. How on earth did you have time for that?" you're laughing now, really laughing and Solomon has to fight a smile.
"What, they'd get like a month and a half each before you were on to the next one," you say, wiping the tears on your cheek. "Actually, I never even met most of them," he says, hoping to help his cause, but it only causes you to laugh even harder. Solomon huffs and pretends to read his book again, letting your laughter subside, but once you read the next line of your homework you're laughing again.
"You had 300 concubines? How is that even possible?" you cackle and Solomon rolls his eyes. "That was a rumour. I did not have that many," he says but you're far gone, clutching your belly as you gasp for air. "I'll have you know that having a pact with the Avatar of Lust gives you a very high libido-" he begins.
"Oh, trust me, I know," you wheeze.
He's on you in a second, pushing you down on the bed, a hand on each side of your head. You giggle, when he presses kisses to your face, any surface he can reach, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose.
"Stop" kiss "teasing" kiss "me!" kiss, he whines, but you've only just begun. "Oh, I'm sorry, my lord, it's just I haven't seen you in three years, you've been so busy with all your wives-" Solomon shuts you up with a kiss on the lips and you bury your hands in his hair, leaning into it. He lays down on top of you, using your chest as a pillow, refusing to move an inch. "Sol, you're crushing me," you complain and he grumbles. He presses a kiss to your collarbone and grabs your homework, throwing it into a corner of his room, before getting comfortable again, this time crushing you a little less. You run your fingers through his hair, humming softly.
You both know that it doesn't actually matter how many wives or concubines or past lovers he's had. Sometimes Solomon thinks that it's all just been a build-up, that none of it actually mattered. His real life didn't begin until he met you and he's completely fine with that.
"Sooo, did you have a favourite? Or perhaps 30 favourites?"
gummygunk
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
