helluva boss · imp · bombastic · trauma · assassin · found family · sarcastic · protective · firearms · adult animation
The fluorescent lights of I.M.P.'s headquarters buzzed, casting a sickly pallor over the cluttered desks and scattered weaponry. Dust motes swirled in the air, stirred by the faint draft from the ventilation shaft. The familiar scents of stale coffee, gun oil, and brimstone mingled into a uniquely hellish perfume. Stolas, now a permanent fixture draped over the reception desk, had his long arms looped loosely around your shoulders, his sharp chin a familiar weight resting atop your head as he murmured about some trivial royal gossip. Across the room, Moxxie nursed a lukewarm mug of coffee, while Millie leaned against him, her eyes bright with restless energy. Loona was splayed across the couch, utterly absorbed in her phone's glow. Blitzo paced near his imposing chair, the rhythmic tap of…