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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year ago

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He's been at Steve's house a week before he manages to gather up the courage to ask.

He shuffles into the living room, Steve's old slippers on his feet, Steve's old pajamas hanging off him. He'd lost weight in the hospital. And hadn't gained much back yet, still in too much pain to really have an appetite. But this, it needed doing. He needed it done.

"Steve?" He asks, throat clicking, voice scratchy from underuse. Steve looks away from the tv immediately, hits the mute button, eyes wide and on Eddie.

"Hey. You okay?" He asks, turning his whole body on the couch, towards Eddie, giving him his full attention.

Eddie just nods. Slowly. His eyes going unfocused, staring at the floor.

"Eddie?" And Steve's in front of him now, he hadn't even heard him get up.

"Hmm?" He hums in his throat, eyes still feeling foggy.

"Did you need something?" Steve asks, Eddie's eyes focus, the concern in Steve's voice bring him back into his body. He looks at Steve, nods, says,

"I need you to cut my hair." His lip trembles, he digs his teeth in.

"You... what?" Steve's confused. Rightfully so. Eddie swallows around the fire in his throat, tries to explain it to Steve. This thing he can barley figure out himself. Has a half formed idea at best. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, Steve steps a little closer.

"It's just- it keeps- I keep laying on it. And it... pulls. And I'm sleeping and it pulls and I wake up and I can't breathe and it's-" he inhales, sharp and shakey and then Steve is there, his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

"Okay. It's okay. I'll do it. Whatever you want Ed's." He pulls Eddie upstairs, into his bathroom. Stands with him in front of the mirror, scissors in hand.

"Where do you want it?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting Eddie's in the mirror. Eddie takes a deep breath, brings his hand up, winces at the pull on his ribs but keeps going.

"Above my shoulders. But like... I wanna still be able to tuck it behind my ears?" He's not sure why it comes out as a question, but Steve just nods, Eddie sees his lips twitch into the start of a smile before dropping again. He reach up, drags his fingers genlty through Eddie hair.

His stomach sinks, his hair is gross. He hasn't washed it in days. Too tired. Too much pain. Too much effort.

"Sorry my hair's gross." He mumbles, lips barley moving.

"It's not. It's fine." Steve assures him, his voice soft, sections out a small lock of hair, he looks at Eddie in the mirror again.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, he looks sad. Eddie hates it. But also doesn't. Because it means Steve sees him, understands him, and how important his hair is to him.

But it doesn't matter right now. That his hair is a peice of him, a peice of the Eddie he'd built to keep himself safe. A peice of his armor.

"I'm sure. Please." He isn't begging, exactly, but his hands fist in his pajama pants, and it feels like it anyway.

"I'm gonna go just above your shoulder at first okay? And then if you want more off we can do that." Steve waits for Eddie to agree and then starts cutting.

Eddie closes his eyes when the scissors sink through his hair. Keeps them closed as Steve works. He stops a few cuts in and tells Eddie to wait there. Eddie sits on the toilet seat as he waits for Steve to come back.

He brings a radio with him, clicks in one of the tapes Eddie made him, and gets back to work. Eddie's eyes stay closed. He finds himself smiling as he listens to Steve hum behind him. Scrunches his nose when Steve full on sings a few times.

Not because he's bad. He's got a really nice voice actually. Eddie loves listening to him sing. But if he didn't scrunch his face he might to do something else instead, something stupid, with Steve so close.

It only takes a couple songs before Steve's hands are on his shoulders, gentle, reassuring, an anchor.

"Okay. It's done. Or at least. Might be. I can take more off if you need me too." His voice is soft in Eddie's ear, Eddie can feel the heat of his chest on his back he's so close.

He opens his eyes and feels his heart flutter in his chest. His head swimming a little. His hair hadn't been this short since junior year. He can see Steve watching him in the mirror.

"Good?" He asks, dragging his lip into his mouth and letting it go again.

"I think so." Eddie says, feeling a bit dazzed, a bit dizzy. And then Steve fucking reaches up with both hands, tucks Eddie's hair behind his ears genlty, his fingers moving down his neck to rest back on his shoulders.

"I could take another inch. It'd still fit behind your ears." Steve's eyes are moving over his head, like he's doing some complex math equation. Eddie wants to cry. His chest tight.

"Okay. Take it." He says, Steve's eyes move to his in their reflections again.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, reaching up and smoothing his hand over Eddie's hair. Eddie nods.

"Yeah. One more inch." He breathes the words out, like he just needs them gone, out of his mouth. Steve smiles at him, untucks his hair from his ears and starts cutting again.

Eddie watches him this time. Watches the way his tongue sticks out as he concentrates, measuring Eddie's hair between his fingers before he cuts. His tongue peaking out between his lips, brow furrowed in concentration.

Eddie watches him and tries to convince himself he actually wanted it shorter. And maybe he did. But he knows too, that he didn't want Steve to stop touching him. Steve's eyes meet his in the mirror and he smiles again. Eddie looks away. His cheeks burning.

"Okay. You're done Munson." His voice is teasing, it makes Eddie's stomach flutter.

"Thanks. Harrington." He teases back. Too soft. He knows. But he can't help it. His voice is stuck in his throat. Steve snorts as Eddie turns, takes a step toward the door.

"Actually. Can I-" Steve stops, his hand curling around Eddie's bicep, stopping him there. Eddie looks at him. Waiting.

"Can I wash your hair for you?" Steve asks, his voice quiet, Eddie barely hears it over the radio.

"My...?" Is Eddie's articulate reply.

"Please? It'll make you feel better. I- I think." Steve stammers a bit, always so endearing when he does that. Eddie loves when he's flustered.

"I uh... yeah okay. If you want." Eddie shrugs, tries to act normal. Like any of this is normal. And Steve fucking beams at him, that beautiful smile on full display.

"Okay cool. Just uh... here you can sit here while I get this cleaned up and get a towel and I'll be right back." He's talking fast, his hands flailing and jumping around as he talks. Eddie just nods, smiling at him as he watches him toss Eddie's chopped hair into the trash. Watches him take a lock of it and tie it in a knot, tells Eddie he'll put it somewhere safe. So they'll know when it's fully grown out again.

Steve wipes up the counter and disappears, comes back with two towels a few seconds later. Instructs Eddie to sit on the floor. He sets a towel down for him to sit on and lays the other over the side of the tub.

Eddie lets Steve guide him. His hands gentle as he lowers Eddie's head back over the tub, asks if he's comfortable, Eddie hums an affirmation. Steve makes sure the water is warm, not too hot, because Eddie doesn't like hot water. He gets it perfect. And then starts pouring water onto Eddie's hair.

Eddie's not sure where he got the cup. Or if it was already there for some reason. He means to ask but Steve's fingers sink into his hair and his brain short circuits. The shampoo smells amazing. Minty. It tingles against his scalp in the best way as Steve's fingers move in slow circles.

Eddie's eyes fall closed. He's sure he makes some obscene noise but Steve is kind enough not to comment. His fingers working magic in Eddie's hair. He rinses with warm water, the contrast from the cool minty feeling making Eddie shiver.

He hears Steve laugh a quiet laugh as he does and smiles himself. He hears another bottle pop open and closed and then Steve's fingers are back. Working the conditioner into his hair slowly, massaging it into his scalp as well. His hands moving slowly, with a purpose, for what feels like hours. He pulls back eventually, fingers dragging slowly through Eddie's hair as he goes.

"I'm gonna let that sit for about two minutes and then we'll rinse okay? You doin okay? Not in pain are you?" Steve all but whispers in Eddie's ear. The radio is still playing in the background. But Eddie couldn't tell you a single fucking song that had played since Steve started touching him.

"I'm good. Kinda tired. But that might just be your magic fingers." He peaks one eye open, watches as Steve laughs, shakes his head. He closes his eye again and laughs too. Only it wasn't a joke. Not really. Steve's fingers were magic. Just like the rest of him.

Steve hums along to Queen's Radio Ga Ga as they wait, Eddie tapping out the beat on his thigh as Steve hums and sways. The song ends and Steve scoots closer.

"Ready?" He asks, turning the water back on.

"As I'll ever be." Eddie deadpans, scooting back a bit from where he'd slid down.

"You're not gonna try and put products in my hair and blow dry it are you?" Eddie asks as Steve starts pouring water over him, fingers moving quicker now, moving his hair around to get it clean, he snorts again.

"No. Just wanted to get you clean." He says, pouring one last cup of water over his hair and turning the tap off. He grabs at each side of the towel under Eddie's neck and lifts, pulling Eddie up and wrapping his hair in one smooth motion. Eddie's eyes land on him and he can't help it.

"So my hair was gross. I knew it." He sighs, watches Steve's nose crinkle.

"It really wasn't that bad. But you thought it was. So i figured this would help." Steve shrugged, like it was nothing. Eddie bit his lip as Steve patted and scrunched his hair in the towel, being careful not to pull.

He claps his hands down on his thighs and helps Eddie get back on his feet. Pulls him genlty to stand in front of the mirror again and smiles soflty when Eddie takes the towel off his head and drags his own fingers through his hair.

It's short, leveled at his chin, a little above when he tucks it behind his ears. And he feels... better. Lighter. He shoves his hands up into the back of it, taking a deep breathe when his fingers drag over his neck, it makes him shiver.

"Fuck. I'm gonna be cold now." He mutters, chuckling in his throat, he hadn't thought about that.

"I'll keep you warm." Steve's voice is soft, when he speaks. The tape in the deck clicks and goes quiet as they stare at each other in the mirror.

"I just wanted you to feel better. But I'll gladly keep you warm too. Whatever you need Eddie. I- I mean I'm here. For you. Not goin anywhere." He shrugs after he mumbles through his little confession, his eyes on the floor when he turns to Eddie.

"I feel better." Eddie whispers, bites his lip and decides to be brave.

He steps forward, into Steve's space, Steve lifts his head, hazel eyes darting around Eddie's face. Eddie hears his breath stutter when he leans closer, presses his lips to Steve's cheek, firm.

Wanting no doubt in Steve's mind that Eddie means this. Means to kiss him. Means to pull him into a tight hug after. Means to hum happily into Steve's neck when Steve pulls him close, arms wrapping around Eddie's skinny frame and holding him tight.

"I'm not going anywhere either." Eddie breathes into his shoulder, presses another kiss there, into his shirt, like a promise. Steve squeezes him tighter, Eddie thinks he might be crying. His chest fluttering against Eddie's as he breathes shakily.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Eddie asks, lets Steve pull away a bit so he can see him. Eddie was right, there are tears in his eyes, but he's smiling as he looks at Eddie.

"Yeah. Course you can. You can sleep there every night if you want. Forever." Steve says, nuzzles into Eddie touch as he wipes tears away from his flushed cheeks.

"Forever huh?" Eddie teases, kissing acoss Steve's cheeks genlty as he laughs, it's wet, and wobbly, and Eddie is so fucking in love with him already.

"Yeah. Forever. Or however long you want me I guess." He shrugs again, dismissive, as if he really thinks Eddie would ever give him up.

"Forever sounds good to me. Not fucking letting you go now I've got you." Eddie whispers, his hands holding Steve's face, Steve's hands on his wrists, holding him too.

"You're gonna keep me forever?" Steve asks, his lip trembling as he looks at Eddie with hope in his teary eyes.

"Forever and ever, if I can." Eddie nods, and it seems to break Steve. He sighs, grabs at Eddie's pajama shirt and tugs him forward. Their lips crash together, a little rough at first, their teeth clicking until Steve seems to calm and slow down. His lips move genlty against Eddie's, soft and slow, and when he pulls back he's smiling again, his crooked little half smile that Eddie loves so much.

Steve scrunches his hair a few more times and then drags Eddie upstairs, gets them both comfy in his bed. And he holds Eddie as they fall alseep, pressing kisses into his hair and against his temple before sleep takes him.

Eddie wakes up warm. Drapped across Steve's chest as the sun hits them. He feels lips press into his hair, smiles when Steve makes exaggerated kissy noises. But he keeps his eyes closed, nuzzles deeper into Steve as he feels his fingers press into his hair.

Eddie hums as they drag through a few times, nimbly untangling rats or snags as they move. He sinks deeper into Steve, his heart fluttering as Steve's hand moves through his hair genlty, scratching at his scalp as he goes, before settling against the back of his neck, his thumb moving in slow cirles against the newly exposed skin.

Eddie whimpers into Steve's chest and snuggles closer, Steve keeping him warm, just like he promised. Eddie couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

#steddie #my writing #mine #my fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #Fates Endless Inkwell #fei #just a random little idea i had

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zvdvdlvr · 25 days ago

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tw: suicide, mourning, skipping meals, heavy topic

The day after you killed yourself, he couldn’t get up from your bed. He had gone to your apartment the moment he heard and fell asleep- wrapped around your scent- sobbing into your pillow. Your cat, George Washington, had curled himself into a ball about into the little indent in your designated untouched sleeping pillow- not purring. He only purred if you were around.

The day after you killed yourself, he didn’t get up from the bed until noon. His limbs were so heavy he didn’t really mind going to sleep and not waking up again. In fact, it was your precious baby (George Washington) that had finally got him up. Meowing and whipping his tail at the crying man’s face had succeeded in bringing him to his feet. And when he got up, he saw the sun shine on all the photographs tucked in the side of your vanity mirror- pictures of you smiling back at him with your dimple showing and your eyes squinting the way they did when you were smiling genuinely.

The day after you killed yourself, he went on a drive with George Washington because he didn’t know what else to do and going through your stuff felt like confirmation that you really… weren’t coming back. And he just wanted to believe.

He wanted to believe that if he closed his eyes long enough, he’d see the shape of you refracted by his cornea. He wanted to believe that if he played the playlist you had carefully curated for date night, he would hear you singing along with the tracks just like you always do did. He wanted to believe that, just for a minute, that he was your husband (not just your boyfriend) and he was coming home to you.

When he finally parked in the lot near your apartment, George Washington climbed into his lap. Your songs were still playing on the radio but he couldn’t turn them off.

That night he didn’t eat. Instead he got George’s food and water bowl fixed up before melting onto the couch in front of your TV. He didn’t feel hunger, no, despite the fact he hadn’t eaten anything since the day you…

It was another hour before he brought himself to look at his phone: the incessant, unending buzzing of his phone had finally cut through the murky emotion of grief and numbness and pain and anger. When he scrolled through the notifications, he could only work his thumbs to type out ‘Will call you tomorrow. I love you all.’ to your family groupchat before his vision blurred and he let his eyes close so he could dream of a future he would never have with you.

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

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Hazbin Hotel x Jeff the killer or BEN drowned reader.

Please?

SURE! I’ll do Jeff the killer as someone had requested I do BEN drowned! 🦆💗💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X JEFF THE KILLER! READER

prompt: after fighting with BEN drowned, Ben decided to send you into a show….

You were asleep snoring as Ben snickered holding up a tv that was playing a title card saying “HAZBIN HOTEL” and with that. He smacked you having you go inside the tv with a devilish smirk. You hit the ground as your body did a whole fucking Peter griffen pose 😭

*metal sound* DAYUM!

You were screaming curses under your breath at Ben who just smirks at the tv and leaves whistling like a damn cartoon character. You dusted yourself off looking around this place.

“The fuck is this?….” You said with a scowl looking around…there’s a bunch of ruined buildings and fire everywhere. You walked around confused as some demons whistle at you. Literally catcalling you as one tried to grab you, when they tried to grab you. You stabbed their fucking hand smiling with that extended smile to your cheek.

“Fuck you think you trying to do huh?” You said with a crazed smile as they fall holding their hand to see you aren’t really a “girl” “YOU’RE A GUY??!” You rolled your eyes wanting to be sarcastic “No. Ima killer..Now. Go. To. Sleep.” You said lastly stabbing the demon in its head. You kept walking as the bystanders move out of your way.

AND YEES WE ARE GOING WITH FANON LOOK INSTEAD OF THE CANNON LOOK😨 CANNON JEFF IS SO…..

Let’s just skip ahead, so you went to the hotel as you seen an advertisement about redeeming….tbh you didn’t give a fuck about redemption, you only needed a room.

Vaggie was definitely judging you by your looks as you had shaggy [idk if I wanna give you black hair or just your own color hair but you can imagine yourself as Jeff or nahh] hair and blood stained clothes. But soon later you turned out to be a chill person who helps their peers but also jokes around.

Alastor and you just stare at each other “smiling” at each other just waiting for the other to talk.

“…..so like..are you always this ugly or were you born that way…” “my smiley fellow, I was born for radio…” “no you were born to be ugly-”

Alastor immediately hates you after that but your boldness is entertaining. He might just take you as a guest for his broadcast.

Angel would love to play with your hair and braid it…as you relax at the touch of Angel’s hands in your hair. It reminded you of how Sally braided your hair when she was bored.

Angel had put pink bows in your hair saying “this is so coquette💗” and you just stood there looking at the hand mirror he gave you. “Angel wtf. >:/”

You woke up to get your laundry to see your white jacket IN FUCKIN PINK?!

“ANGELLLL! IMA CHOP OFF YOUR DI-” yeah angel hid in the bathroom as your anger was no match for any demon….

Lucifer will feel concern about your face as you don’t look…normal I suppose. He’ll be probably have a clear weirded out face

I feel like you and Lucifer would have a weird friend dynamic as you just roll with his hyperactive activities.

“How in the hell do you eat?” He says poking your open slit by your mouth. “I just eat. Simple as that.” You said at the king of hell.

Yeah I imagine Lucifer had put duck stickers on your jacket one time.

I imagine husk and JTK! Reader doing a drinking competition….you owed husk 20 hellbucks. 🥲

Husk will actually tolerate JTK! Reader as they don’t whine and don’t complain much until something actually bothers him.

Sir Pentious would be scared of you…I mean if a normal person saw you. They would be horrified.

You give off a depressed Starbucks worker vibes who don’t get paid for shit…..literally a sinner would test you as Charlie or someone will have to hold you back as you swing your knife. “LET ME AT THEM YOU LIL SHI-”

The crew had always noticed you seemed to look more like a human other than a sinner or hell born. But they never really asked. I mean shit Alastor wanted to ask but Charlie had to tell him to stop it.

The egg boiz were scared of you until you saved Frank from cracking as he tried to reach the damn cookie jar.

You used your body to soften his fall as you hit your head on the ground. “GAH DAMN-” *crash* and then minutes later it was found out sir Pentious was watching over your knocked out body as Frank was telling how cool you saved him.

You sometimes try to call Ben to pick you up and this is how it goes: “Ben…YOU SHORT STACK MOTHERFUCKA! YOU BETTA GET ME OUT OF HERE OR I WILL CUT YOUR LINK LOOKIN ASS-” he had you on voice mail as Ben was just chilling playing video games.

I headcannon you having to wear a fucking smiley mask to not scare off residents😭

“Hi welcome to the hazbin hotel….” You said in a dead tone flat. The sinner looked at you confused asking questions. “ Why are you wearing a mask? Is your nose too big? Do you have bad breath? Are you sick? Are you ugly under the mask?”

You had enough as your eye twitched grabbing the sinner by their collar. “How about I shove my foot up your-” “OKAYYY!” Charlie says seeing you about to give the sinner a piece of your mind as she grabs the sinner from your grasp. “How about we show you around the hotel…”

Yeah you don’t do the greeter job no more….

At least you get to give out food as husk serves drinks. That was at least a cool job as husk helped you serve out small little portions of the trays you used.

I headcannon niffty to make you a bug “flower” crown to show how she admires you.

I imagine Charlie would get you a metal shirt and you would be like. “oh thanks.” You smiled and took it.

You had a knife stash just incase you had to defend yourself. You love collecting knives when bored….

Keyword was HAD. Charlie found your knives and hid them from yourself as you had a sad puppy face at seeing your stash gone.

Imagine you just standin there and a Charlie had put stickers on your jacket saying, “good job for not killing!”

You’re such a good kid😄

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daydaydayrk420 · 5 months ago

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I don't need a sugar daddy

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x male reader

⚠️Car sex, drunk y/n, dom bottom Logan, sub top y/n⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

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Y/N. One of the richest men in this economy.

People call him Lucky. So rich at 25. Well, he has his grandfather to thank for that. But is he happy? No. Not really. Sure he can buy everything he wants. But does he have what a person really needs most?

"Don't let go, Jack..." The TV plays quietly as y/n is cooking in his kitchen. The wifi dropped out so he's stuck with cable. Lucky for him only romance movies seem to playing. What a way to rub it in. It's like TV knows he's single and lonely.

Y/n's a businessman. Meaning he goes to a lot of meetings. He also often goes to red carpets and whatnot, which means he frequently uses a limo.

Every time the same limo. Same driver.

Recently though. His favorite limo driver seemed to get worse in health and his car had bullet holes.

"Logan it's been two weeks and you still haven't fixed your car." Y/n said as he walked towards the limo. Logan just huffs and finishes his cigar. "If you need money you can just ask ya know." Y/n added. Logan opens his door. "I don't want a sugar daddy." He grumbled. The younger man just laughs. "That's not what I was suggesting. But I'm not opposed to it." He winks at the older man and sits in the car.

Logan's glad the younger man is already in the car so he can't see the faint blush appearing on his cheeks.

Another week goes by.

"Logan seriously what happened to your car? Just get it fixed and put the bill on my name." Y/n said as he handed Logan a check. Logan rolls his eyes and closes the back door of the limo. "I told you y/n. I don't want a sugar daddy." "You may not want one but you definitely need one." Y/n said and put the check in Logan's breast pocket.

"Take extra if you need. Fuck take enough to buy that boat of yours you keep checking on. Just don't lie to me. I know you need the money more than I do." Y/n said with a strict tone that made Logan's knees weak. Thankfully he's leaning on his limo so it's not visible.

Later that night Logan is picking Y/n up from the party he drove him to earlier. The younger man is obviously drunk. And seems to be in a good mood.

"Jeez. You look happy." Logan scoffs and helps the wobbly man into the car. Y/n giggles and runs his hand over the older man's chest. "But you don't. Maybe I should help?" He giggled. Logan rolls his eyes and sits him in the limo. He walks around the car. He stops by the drivers door and takes a moment to calm him mind.

It's not the first time he has seen y/n drunk. But every time the younger man seems to get more horny.

Once he mentally prepared himself he got in the car and turned it on. He looks into the review mirror briefly before he starts driving.

"Looogann" Y/n sang. The older man chuckles. It's starting. "loooogannn" the younger man laughs and walks towards the front of the limo. "Why aren't you responding Logan?" He giggles as he pokes his head through the small window separating them. Logan looks at him briefly and shakes his head. "Get back into your seat Damien." The younger man huffs but does as he's told anyway.

He goes back to the back of the car and flops down. He huffs and looks out of the window. "Play some music please."

The older man nods and turns on the radio. Y/n keeps staring out the window. Even when the car is on a red light.

Logan looks through the review mirror and watches how the younger man is doing. He doesn't want to clean up vomit from the carpet of his limo. He paused once he saw the bulge in Y/n's pants. Yes, whenever y/n is drunk and Logan is picking him up, he gets flirty, but he's never gotten a boner. And yes, he did have some people flash him here and there, but he doesn't mind.

But the fact that it's y/n that's building through his pants is... Exciting him. So when the light turns red he starts driving again. But he turns a different way.

"Hey slow down handsome, you missed our turn." Y/n said. "There was an accident on that road we gotta go around." Logan lied. The younger man shrugs and sits back. He's known Logan long enough to trust him. He knows he's lying of course. But he also knows that Logan lies when there's something for him.

Maybe he's noticed the boner in his pants. Y/n thinks to himself as he looks at the said boner. He gets an idea. The younger man looks up and keeps his eyes on Logan. He slowly starts to palm himself through his pants. He doesn't bother with hiding his moans. It's what he wants.

He wants Logan to hear him. To see him. Watch him.

So he reaches his hand into his underwear. That gets him to moan loudly and throw his head back. He's been so pent up all night that his body responds to everything. That moan catches the older man's attention. Logan looks into the mirror and practically freezes. Thankfully, they're on a red light, so there's nothing to worry about.

Y/n is sitting with his pants undone, legs spread as far as possible, head back, mouth open, and his hand steadily stroking.

A car honking from behind them snaps Logan out of his thoughts and focuses on the road again.

Y/n smirks. He pulls himself out of his pants and strokes faster. "Oh, Logan." He moans louder than before on purpose. He watches through the small mirror for any sign of the older man's reaction.

He can't see anything. But Logan is biting his lip until it bleeds and heals, and repeats. His pants are also getting tighter. Y/n lets out a huff and throws his head back. He keeps moving his hand in ways that make his mind spin.

Logan keeps glancing into the review mirror to watch the younger man practically melt into the leather seat. The longer he watches the tighter his pants get. He huffs and shifts in his seat. Logan tries his best to focus on the road but the moans from the back of the car keep distracting him.

The fact that the younger man keeps moaning the older man's name doesn't help.

"Ah fuck Logan!" Y/n cries out as his body shakes with orgasm. Logan's had enough. He makes a sharp turn towards an old parking lot which causes Y/n to fall to his side onto the seats.

"What was that about?" The younger man asks once the car is parked. But Logan doesn't respond because he's already out of the car, walking towards the back.

The younger man just watches in confusion. But the moment the door opens and there stands the older man with a very clear boner makes y/n's eyes widen.

Logan climbs in and shuts the door. He starts to undress. "Get on the floor." He ordered. The younger man visibly shivered and laid down. The older man scoffed and kicked off his pants. "So willing. How pathetic." He nutters. Y/n shiveres.

"Is this what you want? Hm? An old man to be your sugar baby? An old man that will use you for money and sex?" Y/n only moans in response.

"Well, technically, I'd be the one using you for sex -" "I don't care." The older man huffed at the sudden correction. The smaller man immediately closed his mouth and nodded.

Logan finally removes his boxers. Y/n's eyes widen at the big size that the older man has the burden to carry around. It's a shame that it's completely useless. Logan straddles the younger man and wastes no time to sink down onto the smaller dick. Y/n, in his drunken state, doesn't think about prep. All he can think about is tight, tight, tight. "Oh fuck" he throws his head back and lets his jaw drop into a silent scream.

Logan groans and rats his hands on y/n's chest for leverage. He starts to bounce. The car bounces and their moans are heard through the whole parking lot.

"Fuck, look at you. So wrecked by an old man riding you. Are you that desperate for me? All these months? Is this what you wanted?" Logan practically growled when the smaller man's nails dug into the flesh of his thighs. He sped up his bouncing. The car started creaking against the weight of Logan's constant movement.

Y/n whimpered as his hips started to go sore. Logan doesn't look it but he's heavy. Y/n doesn't know that the older man, who's riding him like a cowboy chased by a sheriff, is a mutant. So he has no explanation about his weight. But he's not complaining. He loves that he'll feel him tomorrow and maybe the whole week.

"You look so blissful. You haven't even cummed yet." The older man groans and shifts to different angles until he finds the right spot. Y/n only gives a sheepish and tired smile. Logan scoffs and leans back. Resting his hands by the smaller man's legs. He moans loudly once he finally hits that spot he was searching for.

He bounces harder. His cock slaps against his belly. Y/n watches the way it bounces. Logan is definitely the one with the big prize here but the fact that he's still the one who has his ass stuffed with a dick is so arousing for the smaller man.

"Logan, I'm close," y/n whines and arches his back. Logan groans and throws his head back. "Fuck y/n."

The younger man sits up and runs his hands over the older man's bare and arched body. He kisses every spot he can and marks it. But because of his drunken state, he doesn't notice how they heal almost instantly. The older man shivers. "Cum with me." He groans and uses one hand to grip onto y/n's shirt. Y/n whines and nods with desperation.

Logan lets out a couple of low grunts before he cums all over y/n's shirt and his belly. Y/n follows shortly after and spills into the other man. He holds his hips bruising tight to keep him in place. Their bodies shake from the intense orgasm. Y/n peppers the older man's chest as he pulls him to lie down. Logan hummed. Suddenly, a cold breeze flew through the car from the front window that had been left slightly open.

Logan shivers, considering he's the only one fully undressed. He doesn't know where his clothes are because he threw them around and is too lazy to search. Y/n notices the shiver and sits up. He removes his jacket and covers Logan with it. The older man smiles at the gesture. "Always a gentleman huh?"

The smaller man smiled as he laid back and pulled Logan close for warmth and urge to cuddle. One the older man got snuggled into the jacket he runs his fingers through the younger man's hair. They lay like that, with their eyes closed and soft smiles on their faces, for a while.

"I guess I could get used to having a sugar daddy." Logan hummed. Y/n snorts and buries his face in the chest of salt and pepper hair. Logan in return buried his face in the smaller man's hair and held him close. He threw one leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

"I think we should be more than a sugar relationship." Y/n murmures. "But I will still give you money when you need it." The older man chuckles at that.

"Alright rich Maggie. You won me over." "Finally." Logan laughs at the smaller man's instant reply. The younger man smiles and leans in for a kiss. The kiss is soft. Logan isn't used to soft kisses but fuck did it melt his heart.

"I should go and close the window. You'll freeze to death." Y/n sits up but he's pulled right back. "You're not leaving."

The younger man laughs and kisses the older man's shoulder a couple of times. "Logan the night is gonna be cold plus it'll be raining."

"....Fine." Logan lets go of the smaller man who heads towards the front. He closes the window and locks the door. He puts the heater on so they can get at least a little warmer before going to sleep.

Logan pulls him right back the moment the smaller man sits down. Y/n chuckles and lifts Logan's thigh over his hip again so they can be in their previous position. "Didn't think you were this cuddly."

"People never do. They always say that a mutant like me is not a good man, a cuddler at that." Logan said before thinking. His secret is out. Y/n now knows he's a mutant.

"A what?!"

#wolverine x male reader #logan howlett x male reader #marvel x male reader #x male reader smut #x male reader #male reader #mcu x male reader

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statiicstag · 7 months ago

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There was certainly an amount of confusion of his own to be had as to how the universe could even allow for a meeting such as this to occur, though you'd not find him issuing any complaints. It would not be causing any trouble for him, lest his counterpart try to meddle in his own affairs, which was really all that mattered.

At the present, anyway. He shared in the opinion that figuring out this anomaly could come much later, after they'd had their fill of fun. If they would ever actually hit a limit on it.

❝ We'd not take much joy in it if they didn't detest it, ❞ he points out, staff playfully and gently tapping against the other's. ❝ Allow me to hear your ideas, my friend. I've no doubts that you've plenty of good ones stowed away. ❞

Alastor's smile widens sharply at his counterpart's proposal. Sooner or later, he will have to find out how this oddity has come to be. It's a too fascinating mystery not to delve into it, and who knows what else he might discover along the way! Information is power and in Hell power is everything that matters.

However, he can also admit that there's no need to rush. Investigating can wait, especially when he has another extremely entertaining option very much within his arm's reach. Besides, it's also a unique opportunity. It's not every day that you get to meet yourself from the outside. He is certain that it will be a delightful experience.

And most likely a profitable one too.

"As if I could ever refuse to spend time with this unexpected but absolutely thrilling company!" He claims, the hint of a laugh of his own echoing his counterpart's giggling. "Did you have something specific in mind? Because, otherwise, I can think of a few people we could play a little prank on. They would hate it, but I can assure you, their reactions would make an enjoyable show for us."

#【 ☓ 】 ❙ RADIOS NOT DEAD. ❙《 queue. 》࿏#【 ☓ 】 ❙ STAY TUNED. ❙《 in character. 》࿏#【 ☓ 】 ❙ MIRROR IMAGE. ❙《 alternate. 》࿏#countlessrealities #[i almost screamed when i saw this was from may IM SO SORRY]#[your TV man took all my attention]

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vyxenisl0st · 1 month ago

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ׂ╰┈➤𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙄𝙄

Alastor x reader

🀥 Summary: You despised the TV Demon—the sound of his voice, his face, and especially his incessant news channel. But what happens when he finally says something worth listening to?

🀥 Warnings: fem!reader, slight angst, vulgar language, threats

🀥Word count: 965

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

ﾟ･:,｡★＼(^-^)♪ありがと♪( ^-^)/★,｡･:･ﾟ

“What?!”

“Wife?”

“Your who?”

“Fuck me, smiley! You bagged that?”

“OMG!!”

The barrage of reactions barely registered as a blonde girl in a bright red suit jumped in front of you. Before you could process her manic energy, she grabbed your hand, shaking it aggressively.

“It’s so, so, so amazing to meet you!” she squealed, her words coming out in a rushed blur. “Alastor’s terrifyingly aggressive wife. I mean, wow. That’s… definitely not something any of us expected.” She let out an awkward laugh, glancing nervously at the Radio Demon. “But we’re happy to have you here, nonetheless. I’m Charlie Morningstar, the owner of this hotel.”

You blinked at her, your face contorting in disgust. This girl is nuts.

She finally let go of your hand and turned to Alastor, her bubbly expression shifting to something more accusatory. “Alastor, why didn’t you tell us you have a wife?”

You sneered, crossing your arms. “Don’t stress it, sweetheart. He just forgot he had one. Probably why he vanished for almost a decade without so much as a goodbye.”

Charlie’s shoulders dropped as her gaze darted between the two of you. “I can see you two need a moment.” She gestured for the others to leave the room, her voice quieter now.

“No need,” Alastor interjected smoothly, his tone unnervingly calm. “(Y/N) was just leaving.”

You turned on him, fury sparking in your eyes. “No, I wasn’t.”

Before you could say more, he grabbed your arm and led you toward the door. “Yes. You were.”

Yanking your arm free, you jabbed a finger into his chest, your voice rising. “You don’t get to kick me out or order me around. Not now, not ever. I’ll stay if I damn well feel like it.”

Alastor’s expression didn’t falter, but his voice dropped to a dangerous murmur as he leaned close to your ear. “Darling, you are making a scene.”

Over his shoulder, you caught the awkward stares of the other demons lingering in the doorway.

“Fuck you,” you spat, shoving past Alastor. The door slammed behind you as you left the hotel, your blood boiling with every step.

╭──╯ . . . . . . . . . . ╰──╮

You prided yourself on being calm and collected. But now? Now, you were raging.

“That filthy, insolent bastard!” you snarled, pacing the room like a caged animal. Each step felt heavier, your thoughts swirling in a tempest of anger and humiliation. “He thinks he can embarrass me like this? Over and over again?”

You stopped, staring blankly at your reflection in the cracked mirror. The sound of your own scoff filled the room, bitter and hollow. “Rehabilitation for sinners. That’s a good one. Amazing! The best place for that fucker!” You let out a sharp, manic laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Redemption my ass. Not even God Himself could redeem his soul.”

Your hands trembled as you ran your fingers through your disheveled hair, tugging hard enough to sting. The tears came without warning, welling up in your eyes and blurring your vision. But you blinked them away quickly, biting down on the lump in your throat. Weakness was not an option—not now, not ever.

“He’s not worth this,” you muttered under your breath, though the ache in your chest told you otherwise. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms, as if the physical pain could somehow drown out the fury burning inside you.

Shards of glass littered the floor, glittering like cursed jewels in the dim light. The bed was nothing more than a heap of splintered wood and shredded fabric. The walls bore fresh scars—jagged holes punched through them in fits of fury. And yet, none of it made you feel better.

Alyssa cautiously approached, her hooves clicked softly against the floor, and her hands gripped her clipboard like a lifeline.

“M-my lady?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is there anything I can do for you? A glass of wine? Maybe we can visit the spa while your room is cleaned?”

You turned to her, your glare sharp enough to cut through steel. Alyssa froze, her eyes wide, and quickly took a step back. You would never hurt her—or any of your people—but the tension in the air was suffocating.

“The only thing that can calm me down right now,” you growled, pointing to the pile of rubble that used to be your bed, “is Alastor’s impaled head hanging over that bed frame.”

Alyssa swallowed hard and nodded, choosing not to push further.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. Anger wasn’t natural for you—not like this. You hated losing control, hated the destruction it left behind. With a snap of your fingers, the room repaired itself in an instant. The glass shards disappeared, the walls smoothed over, and the bed returned to its pristine state.

For a brief moment, everything looked perfect again. But it didn’t feel that way.

Your gaze fell to your hand, where your wedding band gleamed faintly. The ring gleamed in the dim light, mocking you. You clenched your fists, trying to shove the memories down where they belonged—but they refused to stay buried. The sight of it sent another surge of anger through you. With a growl, you yanked it off and hurled it across the room.

The walls felt too close, the air too thick. Staying here wasn’t an option. You needed to leave before the anger swallowed you whole. And there was only one place you could think of to go.

Straightening your back, you took a deep breath. “I’m going out,” you said, your voice calm but still simmering with anger.

Alyssa blinked, her expression shifting from fear to concern. “Again?” she asked hesitantly.

You nodded, already heading for the door. “I’m going to see a friend.”

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿ ‿

Author’s note: I’m thinking of making a taglist for this series and other fics I’ll write in the future. Let me know if you want to be in it.

#hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin adam #hazbin lucifer #hazbin art #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin oc #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

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cherie-doll · 10 months ago

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𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Night Routine

✧˚ Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Keegan

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ I’m the sucker for fluff (˘ ³˘ )♡

Unwinding at night with your favorite man <333

Soap

Gazes at you lovingly as he watches you remove your makeup as you sit at your vanity

You make eye contact with him through the mirror

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen”

You always shake your head and smile at his flattery but he reminds you that your beauty is more than skin-deep

Has your comfort/cozy film ready on the tv

The pet you share resting on his lap as he waits for you

Can get impatient sometimes

If he wants you close, he’ll cling to you

Making it harder and therefore you take longer to finish your routine

By the time you’re finally in bed with him, he’s holding you in a tight but loving embrace

Gaz

Helps you undress and get unready

Doesn’t say a word the entire time, only giving soft gazes and smiles

Pure love in this man’s eyes

His eyes are like angels

Stands behind you

Clips your hair back

Unclasps your necklace

Tilts your chin up as he gently wipes your makeup off

Heats a blanket in the dryer so it’s warm and fluffy when it’s time to lay in bed

Tunes on the radio to soft songs to fall asleep <3

Ghost

Turns on the fireplace to warm the room

Prepares something warm for himself and you to drink

He relaxes on the couch in front of the fire as he waits for you

Also remembers to leave your favorite read on the coffee table beside the couch for you to pick up

Closes his eyes to rest and hums in quiet contentment when he feels you sink into the couch beside him

Reaching over to grab your arm and waist, he pulls you onto his chest

Accepts your tender night kiss on his cheek with a hidden smile

Your back is pressed against his chest as he occasionally opens his eyes to look over your shoulder and follow along the book you’re reading

Keegan

For him, a nice tepid bath is the way to relax at night

When you asked for help to unzip he replied with a smirk and only if you joined him

The water proved to be soothing to the skin

Massages shampoo into your hair, his long fingers having a somnific effect on you as they felt pleasant on your scalp

Getting out of the bathtub, he helped you dry and tried his very best to be gentle when brushing your hair

After drying off, you pulled on one of his shirts and cuddled in bed

He kept taking whiffs of your hair and playing with it

The strands slipping through his fingers

With the fresh feeling of a bath combined with the cool feel of the bedsheets it didn’t take long to fall asleep together

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod soap #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #headcanon #cod headcanons

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jisforjudi2 · 3 months ago

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#barbara hale #raymond burr #della street #perry mason #radio tv mirror magazine - december 1963 #he calls her barbie 🥰

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jerrylewis-thekid · 6 months ago

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Because he had to prove to the whole world and especially to the American public that he was a "real man". And also because solo success had gone to his head.

#dean martin #1970s #tv radio mirror magazine #newspaper clippings #my clippings #found on ebay

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

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Writing Notes: Parasocial Relationship

Parasocial Interaction (PSI) - semblance of interpersonal exchange whereby members of an audience come to feel that they personally know a performer they have encountered in mass media.

Parasocial Relationship (PSR) - generally defined as a relationship in which one member of the relationship isn’t aware of the other—e.g., a fan loves a celebrity, but the celebrity doesn’t know they exist. Not restricted to celebrities, PSRs also exist between people and fictional characters, whether portrayed by an actor or not.

PSRs tend to occur because of our natural tendency to link to others.

PSIs are thought to have a psychological effect similar to that of face-to-face communication.

Over time, PSIs with a performer may lead audience members to develop a parasocial relationship—a one-sided sense of connection with the performer.

The first examinations of parasocial relationships came in the 1950s, when psychologists tried to understand how television viewers reacted to the hosts, MCs, and TV personalities speaking to them directly out of the screen—a novel concept at the time.

It caused concern that viewers at home wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the relationships they had with a television personality and ones they had with “real” people— “victim[s] of the 'magic mirror'” as Richard Horton and Donald Wohl described in the 1956 paper.

The term parasocial interaction first appeared in the writings of American sociologists Donald Horton and R. Richard Wohl in the 1956 article “Mass Communication and Para-Social Interaction: Observations on Intimacy at a Distance.” The article describes how PSIs may gradually lead to the formation of a parasocial relationship.

Most theoretical work attempting to define and differentiate PSIs and parasocial relationships was published in the latter half of the 20th century.

Generally, modern sociologists and media theorists agree that the concepts are distinct but deeply related.

The Parasocial Interaction Scale, devised in the 1980s in order to better quantify PSIs and parasocial relationships, asks subjects to answer questions about both phenomena.

PSIs occur when audience members feel that they are actively interacting with a mass media personality.

Human brains appear to process PSIs in much the same way as real-life interpersonal interactions because of the novelty of technologically mediated encounters.

While people do recognize the artificiality of the media apparatus, their perception of PSIs causes a real psychological reaction.

PSIs are strongest when a media personality cultivates the illusion of interpersonal intimacy.

Certain genres, programs, and celebrities have purposely fostered such a sense of intimacy in their tone and setting.

For example, TV talk shows have their hosts directly address the camera as if in conversation with each viewer, creating the illusion of face-to-face closeness.

Situation comedies manufacture familial settings that viewers grow more and more accustomed to.

Certain podcasts and radio shows—especially those crafted around one or more hosts—adopt an informal tone resembling that of a gathering of friends.

As PSIs become increasingly frequent, many audience members enter into a parasocial relationship built on comfort, satisfaction, and commitment.

In contrast, Horton and Wohl posited, people whose encounters with mass media figures are infrequent may feel detached and even cynical when they do encounter those figures.

Indeed, the researchers suggested, audience members must tune in regularly and of their own volition for the relationship to become parasocial.

Such relationships bridge genre and style. In one key study, researchers found that commitment levels (measured on a scale used for interpersonal relationships) for viewers of both fictional and nonfictional television programs were predicted by how invested the viewers were.

Consequently, when a program went off the air, committed viewers experienced higher levels of distress, dubbed a “parasocial breakup,” than uncommitted viewers.

Audience members often have a parasocial relationship with the same celebrity without feeling jealous of one another; in fact, in many cases, sharing their dedication to a mass media persona brings people closer together.

While parasocial relationships can enrich your life, these one-sided affairs can also hurt you.

They won't love you back. "They're like fake food. They taste good, but they have no nutritional content and won't meet your needs. You need to love and be loved in return to thrive," social scientist and professor Arthur C. Brooks says.

They might contribute to loneliness and isolation if you rely on them too much. Loneliness and isolation are linked to increased risks of many chronic health problems such as depression, anxiety, dementia, and heart disease, and even premature death.

They might have a negative influence on you. Are you picking up unhealthy ideas from the people you follow? Brooks says this should be a special concern for parents whose kids have parasocial relationships: The messages kids glean might be at odds with your values — perhaps because they are controversial political or adult themes.

Two red alerts:

Ask yourself if you're too attached. For example, are you skipping dinner with friends because you prefer watching a TV show with a character you care about and want to connect with?

Be wary. "If someone is trying to brainwash you, saying, 'I'm your friend, you can trust me,' that person is using a personal social bond to get you to do something — like vote a certain way," Brooks says. He points out that social media stars try to establish parasocial relationships with followers to get more clicks and make money. "That's what the new economy is all about — monetizing parasocial relationships on a mass scale," Brooks says.

A PSR that starts with healthy boundaries, can turn sour when a mob mentality forms, resulting in harassment.

PSRs are natural and not inherently unhealthy.

But, as Stever says, “Anything that can be true about a regular social relationship can be true about a parasocial relationship. Are they positive? Can they be good for us? Absolutely. Can they be negative? Can they be toxic for us? We all know examples of that.”

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#requested #writing notes #parasocial relationships #psychology #writeblr #character development #writing reference #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #light academia #writing resources

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redvexillum · 5 months ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: fingerf♡cking, dom/sub undertone, no established relationship, dub-con, f!reader, shadow f♡cking, power imbalance, gagging, bondage, asphyxiation, brat!reader, ♡verstimulation, alastor being a lil shit, b♡ndage, alastor makes reader into his lil b!tch lykyk

EXTRA WARNING: This is not a drabble. It is 3.9K words long.

Leaning back in your chair, you mirrored the unsettling grin that stretched across Alastor’s face. His grin, a sharp crescent of teeth, seemed to carve deeper into his cheeks. His eyes squinted just slightly – enough to glint with a darker, more ominous edge.

You felt a spark of excitement ignite in your chest as you watched the subtle shift in his expression. It was a game to you now, one you’d become quite fond of.

“My, my, I do feel awful that no one listens to your broadcasts anymore, Alastor,” you purred, your voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. You stretched your arms above your head lazily, as though you had all the time in the world.

Ever since you’d come to the hotel, Charlie’s redemption exercises had left you with more downtime than you cared for, and boredom was your worse enemy. But now, you found entertainment in a much more thrilling pursuit – pushing the buttons of the ever-grinning, one and only, Radio Demon.

A wicked thrill slithered down your spine when you noticed the faintest twitch of his left eye. His head tilted to the side, a glimmer of amusement – and perhaps annoyance – flickering behind his red-tinted gaze. He scoffed, the sound like static breaking through a radio, and muttered something about the “younger generation not appreciating the finer aspects of real entertainment.”

As Alastor turned his head away, a shadowy movement caught your eyes. His shadow, usually a perfect reflection of him, rippled as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.

And then…it shifted.

The once-stoic silhouette frowned, its mass shrinking, folding in on itself like a chastised child. It looked almost…sad.

Oh? Now, this was interesting.

You’d never teased Alastor about his powers before, but this might just be the perfect opportunity. The idea of seeing him drop that ever-present, smug grin sent a delightful jolt of pleasure through you. Leaning forward, your grin spread wider, more mischievous than before.

“You know, Alastor, I’ve noticed something quite fascinating about you. Your powers…quite the spectacle, aren’t they? Shadow magic, if I’m not mistaken?” You tilted your head, watching him intently.

To your amusement, Alastor perked up at your words, his chest puffing out slightly, and a proud look took over his expression. He casually inspected his nails, playing into the flattery. “Ah, yes, indeedy! My abilities are rather unique – far beyond the capabilities of any other demon’s magic, I dare say –“

“It’s a pretty lame power,” you interrupted, smirking as you blew a raspberry. “I mean, shadow magic? Really? I’ve seen cooler tricks at a children’s birthday party.” You glanced pointedly at his shadow, which now seemed to shrink even more, trying to hide behind Alastor’s body. “Honestly, the TV demon has way better power. You ever see the stuff he can do? Now that’s impressive.”

Alastor froze, and in that instant, the surrounding air grew thick and heavy. The room itself seemed to fall under a strange, unnatural stillness. Before you could blink, something cold and slick snapped across your lips, silencing you of any further quips. Your eyes widened as you struggled to move, but your limbs were no longer yours to command. Invisible tendrils of force held you pinned to the chair, your body stiff and unyielding.

Alastor’s grin widened, impossibly so, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a low, vibrating hum that echoed through your mind.

“My dear,” he cooed, leaning in just enough for you to feel the pressure of his very presence, “there are some games you don’t want to play with me.”

You squirmed from the invisible restraint that rendered you mute and powerless.

“What was that, dear?” Alastor’s voice dripped with venomous amusement; his eyes gleamed with a malicious red glint. His grin, too wide, illuminated in a sickly yellow glow, casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. Slowly, methodically, he tilted his head to the side, the crack of his neck echoing through the room like the snap of a dry twig underfoot.

Your heart leapt in your chest, but you tried to maintain your composure. Glancing down at your hand, you noticed it trembling ever so slightly, a faint dark aura curling around your fingers like mist. When you looked back up, Alastor’s eyes were already locked on you, his grin didn’t falter, but the malice radiating from him was palpable, chilling the surrounding air.

“You’ve been so incredibly chatty before, and now…you’ve grown ever so silent!” His laugh was low, a dark melody of mockery as he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as if savouring the moment. “I’m surprised that you chose now to listen to your better!” His voice lifted into a higher, mocking pitch, echoing through the room like a twisted lullaby.

A grunt of frustration left your throat as you tried to move, but your body refused to respond. The invisible force binding you to the chair seemed to tighten, and then you felt it – a whisper of a touch against the curve of your neck. It was impossibly soft, like the brush of a feather, but it sent a jolt of electricity racing down your spine, igniting every nerve it grazed.

You clenched your teeth, eyes fluttering shut, fighting the small pitiful whimper building in your throat. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing your weakness – specifically, your erogenous zone, more like.

Tensing your muscles, your desperately tried to suppress your whimper as it clawed its way up your throat. But the second his voice crackled to life, sharp and sinister, that resolve began to crumble.

“Interesting.”

The single word dripped with dark amusement, and your eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. You stared at him, searching for answers in his glowing red eyes. Alastor grinned wider, basking in the silent panic flickering across your face.

Before you could even process a single thought, you felt it again – that feather like touch, teasing just behind your ear. The cool, silky sensation slithered down the curve of your neck, and this time, there was no holding back the involuntary shudder that coursed through you.

Your body betrayed you completely.

As if the invisible binding loosened just enough, your lips were freed, but not in time to stop the soft, devastating moan that slipped past them. The sound hung in the air between you like a damning confession.

“My, look at you,” Alastor purred, his voice a deep, honeyed tenor that sent a shiver of anticipation and want down your spine and penetrated into your core. Another caress – so gentle, so deliberate – skated across your hot, flushed skin. “Had I known this was all it took to get some peace and silence from you, I would have done it much sooner.”

His words coiled around you, thick with smug satisfaction, as his eyes drank in the sight of your face contorting, torn between restraint and giving in to the sensations he was pulling from you.

Summoning what little strength you had left, you glared at him through your lustful haze, the words, “fuck you,” barely managing to escape your trembling lips. The weak insult only seemed to heighten his amusement. His grin stretched wider, sharp teeth catching the dim light as he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with twisted delight.

“You claimed my power was useless,” he murmured, his voice suddenly cold, authoritative. “So, I suppose a demonstration is in order.”

The way he loomed over you, despite sitting across from you with his gaze unyielding made you feel like a student caught misbehaving under the stern gaze of a teacher. His impassive expression only weighed in on your feelings of helplessness.

“I’ll pass–ahhnn!” Your feeble attempt to reject him was cut off, morphing into desperate gasps as those silky tendrils glided lower. They traced a slow, torturous path down your chest, brushing against the sensitive tips of your nipples. Your breath hitched as you squirmed in the chair, thighs trembling in a vain attempt to close your legs as you were sure the evidence of your desire was staining the inner centre of your pants.

“Now, now,” he crooned, his words laced with an almost affectionate mockery. “We’ve only just begun!”

Alastor’s laughter was pure and unadulterated as he declared with a flourish, “Honestly, I want you to feel comfortable around me, my dear!” His voice rang out boisterously, and with a sharp snap of his fingers, that same invisible force pried your legs apart.

You gasped, the air escaping you in ragged pants as the sensations assaulting your body intensified. The thick, musty air seemed to cling to your overheated skin, and every nerve felt as though it was ablaze, ignited by the unseen force caressing you. Your lips trembled as you bit down hard, trying – desperately – to stifle the moans bubbling up from deep within. Yet, your traitorous body, the slick heat pooling between your thighs, betrayed you in ways you could no longer control.

The unforgiving hardness of the chair beneath you did nothing to ease the ache throbbing at your core. It only heightened your frustration. Somehow, despite the layers of fabric still clinging to your skin, this mysterious, phantom touch seemed to bypass everything – touching you as though you were stripped bare.

Your nipples, painfully hardened, were being rubbed and pinched in ways that had your breath catching, your chest heaving as tears of desperation pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were perilously close to begging.

“You see, my dear,” Alastor’s voice cut through the haze, mocking and sharp, “you must not fully grasp the extent of my power if you dare compare me to that lousy ‘picture box.’” He spat the words with a venomous disdain, his eyes narrowing. “Beg for my forgiveness, and perhaps I’ll show mercy.” His voice dipped into a low, dangerous whisper, dripping with dark intent.

Your heart pounded in your ears, but something else caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it – Alastor’s shadow, the one that had lurked behind him, was now slithering across the floor, positioning itself directly behind you. Its tendrils writhed, holding you firmly in place, while its grotesque grin loomed close, mirroring its master’s. The shadow’s presence was suffocating, overwhelming as its clawed hands slowly traced a path of pleasure down the front of your chest.

“I…” You hesitated, trembling as those same spectral hands pinched your already sensitive nipples, somehow phasing through your clothes. Blood rushed to the tender tips, heightening your torment with drawn out pleasure. “I think – ah – it’s still pretty lame,” you challenged, arching a brow, your tongue flicking out to slowly trail along your lower lip, drawing Alastor’s attention.

Alastor’s eyes darkened, pupils shrinking into narrow slits as he followed the motion of your tongue. His mouth twisted into a manic grin, and let out a wild, unhinged cackle. “I’ll never understand your generation’s needless stubbornness!” He declared, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. The kitchen, the dim light – it all vanished. You were swallowed by darkness, an endless void that stretched in every direction. Yet, you remained seated in the same chair, surrounded by nothing. Your sight had been stolen from you, leaving you blind and disoriented.

“Fascinating, wouldn’t you say?” Alastor’s voice rang out through the void, calm and calculated. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your every movement, like a predator waiting for its prey to make one wrong misstep.

“Ah!” You yelped, body jerking as something – a sensation like fingers – began rubbing against the slick folds between your legs. Despite the barrier provided by your clothes, the touch was undeniable, intimate, and invasive. Your legs were spread wide, leaving you completely vulnerable to the unseen force now exploring the wetness pooling there. The soft, wet sound of your own arousal filled the surrounding silence, intensifying the humiliation as your body responded without hesitation.

Quick, shallow breaths escaped your lips as you squirmed, trying to find some way to relieve the relentless teasing. Yet, all you could feel was that luxurious, maddening touch, dipping and teasing, tracing the sensitive thick folds. The darkness amplified everything – the wet sounds, the shuddering moans you couldn’t hold back, and the ache that radiated from your core.

You whimpered softly, the desperation clear in every breath, every twitch of your body. You wanted more – needed more – your throbbing clit practically screaming for attention, while your cunt begged for release.

But all you had was Alastor’s voice, echoing through the endless dark, and the maddening, torturous touch that refused to give you the satisfaction you so desperately craved.

The same shadowy appendages rubbed and rubbed, smooth and relentless, dipping into you right at the entrance, gathering your slick before gliding against your inner folds again. Your thighs trembled as you were forced into a shameful display, and you couldn’t bear to think about what expression you wore for Alastor now. Your hips instinctively jerking to grind against the shadowy fingers teasing your wet folds.

“You know what to say, dear,” Alastor’s voice slithered into your ear, a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. In the darkness, with your body immobile, every whisper, every breath, every slick sound of Alastor’s shadow playing you amplified your vulnerable and aroused state. The contrast between the cool darkness and the peculiar warm touch of his shadow heightened your awareness, pushing you closer to the edge.

Hot tears began to trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the heat of your embarrassment as the shadow’s caress shifted from teasingly light to an almost punishing pressure. It demanded more from your greedy, slick heat. Abandoning any pretense of pride, you let out a desperate whimper. “Please, I-I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice trembling in the oppressive silence. Only your head and neck were free from the shadow’s hold, leaving you breathless and exposed.

“I’m sorry for saying your shadow power was lame,” you gasped, and your words were rewarded with a sudden fullness, the thick, unyielding digit pushing deep inside you, curling against your sensitive skin.

“Oh, my, look at you,” Alastor said, his voice tinged with mockery. “Such a pretty mess you’ve made. Who would have thought this would be your undoing?”

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your head thrown back in surrender, grateful to whatever fucking deity was listening for finally filling the emptiness that pulsed within you. “Ah, more, please, more,” you whimpered, emboldened by the darkness, free from the weight of his gaze – though you could almost feel it, a predatory presence looming over you, delighting in your plight.

A sudden tearing sound made you gasp; your pants ripped at the seam, a cool breeze kissing your exposed skin, intensifying the slick warmth pooling between your legs.

“Look at you, dear. You’re absolutely drenched, soaked your underwear right through! Hah!” Alastor chuckled, his voice a disembodied tease, echoing all around you. You couldn’t tell where he was anymore – behind you, beside you, or perhaps he hadn’t moved at all, still watching with that insufferably bored expression, like a spectator at a dull weather report.

“S-sorry,” you moaned, the undeniable squelch of your arousal filling the air, shame mingling with pleasure as whatever was touching you coaxed out your need. You strained to see, but the darkness was absolute, leaving you only to imagine those shadowy appendages moving in and out of your wet, sopping cunt – a hypnotic rhythm that drove you wild.

It felt incredible – so impossibly good – as the dexterous finger-like tendrils curled and pressed all the right spots, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. You clenched your abdomen, desperate for release, but then the motion halted abruptly. The loss of sensation was cruel, leaving you painfully aching, yearning for that delicious stretch, for the pull and push of your inner walls.

“Now, now, don’t be greedy,” Alastor purred, his tone dripping with mockery. “Patience is a virtue, or haven’t you learned that yet?”

A snap echoed in the room, and your vision flooded with light. Across from you, just as you expect, sat Alastor, his ever-present grin splitting his face. Legs crossed, he watched with amusement flickering in his eyes. “Ah, sight isn’t the only thing I can take away, my dear,” he mused, voice dripping with sinister glee.

Your mouth was stretched wide, forced open, as his shadow lingered beside you, its hand plunged into your mouth. Its slick fingers pressed down on your tongue, holding it captive. Humiliation gnawed at you as drool leaked from the corners of your lips, a slow trickle that dripped down your chin. The warm saliva cooled quickly against your skin, but the undeniable feeling of shame mingling with the hot, burning desire of pleasure consumed you.

When your gaze flicked downward, you caught the sight of Alastor’s shadow. Its fingers danced over your swollen clit, moving in tight, calculated circles. The delicate touch was maddening as you felt it was just short of pushing you closer to the peak.

A helpless moan slipped out, muffled by the fingers lodged in your mouth. The more Alastor’s shadow played with you, the more fluids spilled, your lips trembling as saliva and arousal dripped from your needy body.

Unexpectedly, the shadow’s fingers plunged inside your slick heat, driving deep with unrelenting force. Your eyelids fluttered shut as another guttural moan vibrated around the intruding fingers in your mouth. Your throat strained with each breath, the effort of swallowing excess saliva adding to your torment. The lewd, wet sounds of your body being claimed filled the air – each thrust squelching with a vulgar intensity that only heightened your spiralling, intense desire.

Alastor’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure and submission. “Beg for forgiveness, my dear,” he crooned, his tone mocking yet lilting, as though he were offering you something. “And perhaps, I may allow you to finish.”

Your body craved release, teetering on the brink of orgasm, but the shadow's fingers stuffed in your mouth made coherent words impossible. You struggled to form even a basic plea, but all that escaped your lips were garbled moans and desperate, incoherent sounds. Your abdomen clenched, desperate – so fucking desperate – to reach your peak, but your hips remained pinned, unable to find the friction they needed.

Your eyes darted to Alastor in panic, pleading silently. His grin split through his cheeks, as though relishing in your helplessness. “Oh dear, it seems you don’t really want it after all,” he sighed with a mock expression of disappointment, his voice laced with dark amusement.

A fresh wave of frustration swirling with anger and desperation ripped though you as you continued to teeter at the edge, unable to tumble over. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and soon they streamed down your face, joining the cooling drool that stained your chin. You moaned incoherently around the shadow’s fingers, your voice trembling with need.

Alastor’s eyebrows raised, his tone exaggerated with surprise. “Well, aren’t you a lucky one? It just so happens I’m in quite a generous mood!” His tone continued its uplifting beat, matching his exterior joviality.

As if on cue, the fingers left your mouth, but before you could gather your breath, you felt a tight pressure coil around your neck. It squeezed, slow and purposeful, cutting off your airflow inch by damning inch. Panic shot through you as you gagged for air, your pulse hammering in your ears. Alastor’s shadow grinned, its face looming beside yours as it continued to relentlessly fuck you with its fingers. They moved with vicious intent, plunging deep into your walls, hitting every sensitive spot, each stroke sending your body reeling.

Your vision began to blur, dark spots forming at the edges as your head swam with lightheadedness. The air refused to fill your lungs, the tightness around your throat unbearable, until suddenly – release. A flood of oxygen rushed in to your body at the same time the shadow’s fingers curled deliciously inside you, pressing against your g-spot with merciless precision.

The orgasm hit you like a crashing wave. A raw scream tore from your throat, mixing with sobs as pleasure washed over you in undulating waves. Your body convulsed, trembling uncontrollably as the shadow’s fingers never relented, still thrusting, still curling, keeping you locked in the agonizing cycle of ecstasy.

“Ahhhh…fu-ahhhh!” You sobbed, the pleasure too much, too intense. Your clit throbbed painfully, swollen and oversensitive, and the shadow’s fingers began to slap at it – hard, wet slaps that sent sharp bursts of pain rippling through the pleasure. It was endless. The overwhelming sensation of being pushed beyond your limit clouded your thoughts, a jumble of pain, of pleasure, and of torment.

“Aren’t I generous?” Alastor asked, his voice heavy with mockery. He watched your body writhed and twitch beneath his control. “Let’s see how many times I can make you break, hm?”

The moment Alastor uttered his final words, his shadow’s fingers drove back into you – three of them this time – curling deep inside your weeping cunt. They moved fast, a blur of relentless thrusts that tore another orgasm from your exhausted body. You gasped for breath, the feeling being stretched and filled too much, your mind going blank from the overload.

“A-ah, to-too much,” you managed to cry out, though your body remained stiff and unmoving, helpless against the hold Alastor’s shadow had on you. Your cunt clenched tightly around the dexterous fingers, your core pulsing as the shadow showed no mercy, working your sensitive spots with precision.

And then – hot and wet – his shadow’s tongue trailed up the back of your ear, the same spot that had started it all. It licked and sucked at your skin, the obscene sounds filling your ears, mingling with the squelching from your dripping cunt. You could feel the puddle forming beneath you, the wetness between your legs soaking the seat. Your body trembled, your mind teetering on the brink as you felt yourself nearing the edge again.

Just as the pressure built, a sharp pinch at your raw nipple jolted you, sending you hurtling into another orgasm. This time, no sound escaped you – your scream was swallowed by the force of the release. Your body convulsed, jerking with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you, until you were nothing more than a quivering, wet, mess.

As the shadow’s grip loosened, your body collapsed forward, slumping against the cool tiles. The cold surface was a sharp contrast to the burning heat of your overstimulated skin. Your entire body continued to tremble, twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Your tongue lolled out as it took everything you had to continue to breathe despite the shameful display of drooling like a dog by Alastor’s feet.

“Now then,” Alastor’s voice chimed in brightly, his polished shoes the only thing in your line of sight as he stood before you. “I do hope you’ll clean up after yourself. This may be a hotel, but our complimentary brunch is self-service, after all.” He laughed, a sound filled with genuine mirth, before his body melted into the shadows.

The ends of your lips twitched upwards, your body still shivering as you felt the cool slide of your arousal dripping out from the apex of your thighs. You could still feel the lingering touch of his shadow still imprinted on your body.

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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purplephantomwolf · 3 months ago

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Love in Motion

Chapter Three

Synopsis: You are a normal college student until you get a wrong number text.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately.

Previous chapter: Chapter Two

Masterlist

I AM REWRITING THIS FROM AN OC STORY. IF I MISS ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN FIX IT! THIS IS CHAPTER 3 OF 5 OF ALREADY WRITTEN CHAPTERS.

April 9, 2022 12 AM

You yawn as you sit down in front of the tv to watch qualifying. You’ve got Luke and you’re’s chat open to send him messages about qualifying as it happens. Nothing happens for the first 16 minutes until I see Latifi’s car go spinning around.

You: OH MY GOD!!! What happened to Latifi?!

You watch as you see Lance Stroll’s car come up on screen.

You: He got tangled up with Lance Stroll??

You watch the replay and see Stroll turn into Latifi. You hear his radio, blaming Latifi for the accident.

You: Lance Stroll. How could he even think it was Latifi’s fault at all?? Outrageous.

For the next 15 minutes, I stew in my anger at Stroll for blaming Latifi.

You: There’s just no way he can blame Latifi for this. He clearly saw him in his mirrors!

You: And now Alex has a problem with his car! Williams is just not having a good day, damn.

Q2 goes by without any crashes, and by the time Q3 rolls around, you are fighting to keep your eyes open. They flutter close for a second before you hear the commentators yell. Your eyes fly open to see Fernando Alonso go into the barrier. “Oh my god!” You gasp, covering my mouth.

You: Fernando crashed too! He lost the hydraulics!

You: This is so sad.

After 12 minutes, Q3 gets going again. You yawn as qualifying comes to close. You grin as you see Lando finish P4.

You: Wooo! Lando starts P4! Let’s go Lando!

You shut off your tv once Max, Checo, and Charles start getting interviewed. You quickly crawl into bed and pass out.

******************************************************************************

Lando’s POV

My performance coach, Jon, hands me my phone. “It kept going off during qualifying,” he says, eyes knit in confusion.

“Thanks, Jon,” I say, unlocking it. I grin when I see eight messages from Y/n. Jon’s eyebrows raise at my grin. “A friend was messaging me,” I answer his unspoken question. I go to our chat and read all of Y/n’s messages. I smile when I read her excited text about me starting P4. I shoot her back a message, hoping she’s still awake.

Me: Yeah! The McLaren team is super happy for him.

I wait for a minute, but don’t get a response back. I internally pout, sad that Y/n didn’t respond. “Time to head to the media pen,” my press officer, Charlotte, says, appearing next to me.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” I grumble, following her. I follow Charlotte to the media and stand in front of the first media team.

******************************************************************************

April 9, 2022 11 pm

Your POV

You curl up on the couch as the cars finish the formation lap. You have your chat to Luke open so you can message him. The first lap goes quietly until Carlos spins.

You: OH! Carlos spins! He’s stuck in the gravel! Oh my!

Your eyebrows knit as you see Lance come into the pit for a second time under the safety car. “Interesting strategy to try to go to the end on one set of hard tires,” you mumble. You yawn as the safety car comes back into the pits and the race picks up again. You gasp as you see Sebastian go through the gravel, letting out a happy sigh when he doesn’t get beached.

You: What happened to Sebastian?? Why did he need to stop?

You: And there’s debris?? What happened?

You: OH NO! He hit the wall!

You: I’m not a big fan of one of the announcers. He’s just hating on Aston Martin and everyone who keeps making a mistake.

The safety car comes out again and after some laps under it, racing gets back under way. You groan when a stewards message pops up on my screen. “These are never fun to read,” you say.

You: How does Mick, Yuki, and Pierre all have safety car infringement investigations? How do you infringe on the safety car?

You: Also, what happened to Max?? Why did he need to stop the car??

You: His car is on fire! Thank god they told him to stop the car.

You groan as another safety car period starts. “I just want to sleep,” you whine. The safety car only lasts two laps before racing starts again. “Oh thank goodness,” you sigh. Nothing else exciting happens during the rest of the race, leaving you to fight sleep. You wake up more when you hear that they’re on the last lap. You glance over at the order and grin when you see Lando finishing P5.

You: Lando got P5! Let’s gooooo! And Daniel got P6!

You: But now it is time for me to pass out, so good night, Luke!

You shut off the tv after the podium ceremony. You crawl into bed, falling asleep quickly.

******************************************************************************

Lando’s POV

I slump down on the chair in my drivers room. I grab my phone, hoping for messages from Y/n. I grin when I see a string of messages from her. I read through them before replying.

Me: Which announcer is it? And McLaren is very happy with the results. Have a good night, Y/n.

I’m still grinning when Daniel barges into the room. “Hey, we’re going out for drinks, you want to join?” He asks. He stops and squints at me. “Why are you grinning like a maniac?” He questions me.

“Just happy with our results,” I shrug. He hums, still squinting, like he doesn’t believe me.

“Well, we’re going out at 10 pm, if you want to join us,” Daniel says, before leaving the room. I decide to get ready to go back to the hotel to get ready for the night out.

******************************************************************************

2 am

I’m sitting at the club next to Carlos, sipping on a drink, when my phone vibrates on the table. Y/n’s name flashes on the screen and I grin. “Who’s Y/n?” Carlos asks, looking from my phone to me. “Why are you grinning so big? Do you have a secret girlfriend?!” He gasps.

“No, she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend I made earlier this week,” I explain.

“But you like her?” He digs for more information.

“Lando likes who?” Max asks, as he slides into the booth, Daniel following him. The three of them are staring intently at me, awaiting my answer.

“I don’t like her,” I deny.

“Your smile when she sent you a message says otherwise,” Carlos points to my smile.

“Oh! Is she the reason you were grinning like a maniac in your driver's room today?!” Daniel asks.

“What? No! Maybe. Yes, yes she was,” I admit. They raise their eyebrows. Max gestures for me to continue. “Okay, so I ‘met’ her earlier this week,” I start, putting met in air quotes, “I was given the wrong number at a club earlier this week and it happened to be her number that I was given.”

“You believe it’s actually a girl? Not someone lying to you?” Carlos questions.

“Yes, I believe her,” I’m quick to defend myself and Y/n.

“So, tell us about her!” Daniel exclaims, leaning forward.

“Well, she’s a college student in the United States, studying software engineering. She’d rather be a photographer though,” I start. “She’s a fan of mine, but this is her first season of being a fan. Her dream race is either Silverstone or COTA. She, uh, she doesn’t know she’s talking to me. She thinks she’s talking to some guy named Luke who’s an event manager for McLaren,” I admit.

All three pairs of eyebrows raise at the last statement. “Dude, she’s going to be pissed when she finds out she’s talking to you. Girls don’t like being lied to,” Max says.

“I know, I know. I just like talking to her, and I lied about who I was before I thought about it. But it’s going so well, so it’s too late to back out now,” I sigh. The three of them shake their heads at me. I gasp, realizing I’ve forgotten to respond to Y/n I grab my phone to respond.

Y/n: Good morning, Luke!

Y/n: The commentator I don’t like is Will Buxton I think? I just hated how he was hating on everyone.

Me: Good morning, Y/n. I can see why you’d dislike that.

I glance up to see Max, Carlos, and Daniel all staring intently at me. “What?” I ask, confused.

“You just seem happy texting her,” Carlos says.

“I am. She’s a fun person to talk to,” I agree. I look down as my phone vibrates again.

Y/n: Yeah. So how was your day?

Me: It was good! I’m out celebrating the good results from today.

Y/n: Oh fun! I’ll leave you be then!

Me: No! Don’t go! I’ve been out for four hours already, so I’m heading home soon anyways.

Y/n: Alright!

I yawn, trying to convince the guys I’m tired. “I’m going to head out, I’m tired. Have a good night,” I say. I get a chorus of good nights from them, before I leave. I hail a cab and head back to the hotel, while talking to Y/n.

Me: Did you sleep well?

Y/n: I did! I assume you’re heading to bed soon though?

Me: Yeah, I’m heading back to the hotel now, so in like 30 minutes I’ll be asleep.

Y/n: Okay, sounds good! Are the clubs fun?

Me: They can be, depending on who and where you go. I tend to go with my close friends, so they’re fun.

Y/n: Alright, that sounds fun.

Me: Yeah.

Me: So, what’s your plan for today?

Y/n: Well, do some homework, look for some jobs, play some video games.

Me: That sounds like fun! Well, the video games part does.

Y/n: It should be!

I let myself into the hotel room, yawning as I get ready for bed.

Me: I’ve made it back to the hotel and I’m exhausted so I’m going to head to bed. Have a good day, Y/n.

Y/n: Okay! Have a good night, Luke.

I set my phone down on the nightstand and climb into bed, falling asleep quickly.

Next chapter: Chapter Four

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

Permanent tag list:

@sol3chu

@faithshouseofchaos

Story tag list:

@anotherapollokid

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 story #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader

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hazbinhazmeinachokehold · 1 year ago

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The hotel gang + overlord!reader part 2

Part one here

!Not beta read!

While it may just be the stress talking, the bed was surprisingly comfortable, for a hotel at least. Today was a lot. Even if this hotel seemed to be a net positive it was still a lot. So the comfortable bed made it seem like you already made it to heaven. As you sank into the bed you drifted off to sleep.

You awoke to a few loud and powerful knocks on your door. "Hello? If you're awake we are going to do some trust exercises!" Charlie called out. You unintentionally groaned as you got up.

"Give me a minute!" You replied.

"Okay." Charlie said as she left. When you got up you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't a mess by any means but you've definitely looked better. You freshen yourself up slightly before going downstairs.

The Hotel residents and staff were all in a circle. You sat down in one of the gaps in the circle. Charlie cleared her throat.

"Okay everybody let's go around in a circle and say our names first! I'm Charlie." She paused, "As you all know." Everyone else proceeded to say their name, which you already knew everyone's name. Excluding the short one-eyed girl, Niffty, and the girl with an x over one of her eyes, Vaggie. Then your turn came.

"Uh- Hi! My name is y/n" You cringed at the nervousness in your voice.

"Now I want everyone to tell a fact about themself. It doesn't have to be anything huge, just something to get to know each other." Charlie said, "I love musicals!" Yeah, that was pretty easy to guess.

Angel was next up. "I love sitting on big, HUGE-"

"Angel I fucking swear." Husk cut him off.

"Comfortable chairs! What were you thinking?" Angel had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Also cocks as well." He added. Husk and Vaggie groaned.

Niffty went next, but Charlie spoke before her, "Please try not to scare away our newest member." She pleaded. Niffty pouted but compiled anyway.

"I love writing fanfiction! Escapily with bad boys." Her tone turned slightly seductive at the end. You elected to ignore that.

There was a silence as everyone waited for Vaggie. Charlie stretched her palm out to tell her to talk. "Oh- yeah right sorry." She shook her head slightly, "I like to dance."

"Really!? How come I never knew that?" Charlie asked.

"It never came up." Vaggie smiled faintly

"I'm the bartender," Husk grumbled. Vaggie elbowed him. "What? I told a fact about myself."

Alastor let out an "ahem" noise. The focus shifted to him. "While this is a fact in general, I believe that radio is the utmost form of medium." As baseline as this was for a guy such as Alastor, you also kind of expected it. Alastor would not let anything deeper about himself slip. So why not go for the most well-known part of yourself. "Now, y/n, darling I do believe it is your turn."

Oh shit right. You've just met these people so don't go with anything personal. Also, make sure it doesn't make anyone uncomfortable. “I really don’t like being an overlord.” Your mouth moved before you could comprehend what you were saying. Well fuck. If this was a TV show you’d clearly be the comic relief, at least right now. Everyone but Alastor and Niffty had some form of uncomfortable plastered on their face. Alastor however had a curious yet sinister smile on his face. Niffty wasn’t really paying attention to you, she was chasing some random cockroach.

You wanted to go back on that statement but something was saving you from embarrassing yourself further. Do demons have guardian angels? If so, yours was working overtime right now. But they also weren’t getting much work done.

Your real savior was whoever blew the fucking wall up. Everyone's head was quickly aimed at the now missing wall. While Husk just accepted it everyone else, including yourself, to find the source. Like you were in some sort of horror movie character getting ready to be stabbed. But you instead met with a huge mechanical blimp that had an impractical amount of guns.

“There you are!” The person in the blimp called out. It was very hard to hear but it was just loud enough. “Alastor, are you ready to be beat-”

“Who is this?’

“Who- Who am I!?” The voice was very clearly offended at Alastor's lack of knowledge. You just drowned the rest out. Alastor was cruel and frankly heartless. But he also did not like wasting time. So even while this poor sinner's fate was sealed, thankfully it wouldn’t be as drawn out as his past victims. You turned around to hopefully save any shred of innocence you were able to save. As you entered through the wall you could hear both Alastor and his victim speak.

“Thank you for another forgetful experience!” Alastor said. You didn’t necessarily

want to look but you did so anyway. Kind of like watching a car crash.

“Thank you…” the snake struggled to get out, “ For letting your guard down!” He ripped part of Alastors coat off. Well, that's not good, for anyone really. Alastor’s coat got torn and this sinner is about to die again. Or at the very least get seriously injured. You’re honestly surprised he lasted this long. He was notably weaker than The Radio Demon’s usual opponents.

He, quite appropriately, said “Oh shit-” Before an explosion (you can only guess caused by Alastor) caused him to fly away. Welp, he’s gone forever now. The hotel seemed nice for the most part. It honestly still does. You just wish you weren’t staying in the same house as The Radio Demon. But now that you think about it, almost everyone here seems to have something severely wrong with them. And that includes you too. So at least you fit in.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #charlie x reader #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #niffty x reader #husk x reader

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