#black tears crossed the world
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I finally was able to visualize the right shapes and colors for the VU. I'm gonna cry. It's just a colored sketch, but it's enough for me to get an image, after four months, finally!
I'm gonna cry.
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prompt: ghost and you are the only survivors of a military plane crash. you spend weeks alone in the wild together. (ns/fw)
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In the years you’ve worked as a flight attendant, you’ve never experienced a plane crash before. It’s exactly like what you would’ve expected.
Clear skies rapidly turn grey outside the tiny windows to your left and right; you notice it almost instantly because it casts a pall over the interior of the aircraft. It makes the small group of men that you’ve been travelling with sit up a bit straighter in their seats, only a few of them looking genuinely concerned. Military men often do; it’s in their nature to worry and fret. You feel it like a twinge in your gut, like something telling you that you don’t usually fly through dark clouds.
The soft ding of the seatbelt sign comes on a handful of seconds later. The turbulence only a few moments after that.
Pilots are trained to avoid cumulonimbus clouds like they’re a harbinger of death (and they are). Even large airliners avoid crossing the path of a cumulonimbus. Your pilot should’ve known to divert and fly around the cloud, avoiding the possibility of flying through a thunderstorm altogether. The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts and you notice distantly that his voice seems frazzled.
Your hands grip the seat as you strap in. This is exactly the kind of scenario you’ve prepared extensively for, but in the face of it, your stomach tosses and turns. Practice can only hope to ape reality; it often falls short.
From across the aisle, you lock eyes with the lieutenant in the skull mask that politely refused a beverage ten minutes ago. The plane jostles you violently in your seat as it passes through a rough patch of turbulence. Even the lieutenant, twice your size and rooted into his seat, his hands clamped around the arm rests, grunts when he’s rocked side to side.
There’s a loud pop outside the aircraft and the plane teeters dangerously to one side. The bags in the overheads bash against the doors, the plastic squeaking under their weight.
Someone screams. The other attendant sitting across from you is already shouting, “Brace! Brace! Brace!” The mantra bursts from his chest along with spittle and the singular, quivering note of fear. There’s not much more you can do but follow his lead, dropping your head to your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs.
Your stomach drops when the plane descends far too suddenly. You would’ve been pulled back against the wall if your arms weren’t wrapped around your legs. You have enough time to peek up briefly to see all of the other men assuming the same position, some with their heads pressed against the seat in front of them before the aircraft nosedives and there’s a sharp whistle in your ear and the lights flicker ominously in the cabin and something tears and tears and tears and—
Then it’s dark.
Your grip must have loosened because the world disintegrates after you hit your head. There’s only a faint buzz and something ice cold, something that grips you from the inside and slithers over your skin. The aftermath of a crash is so quiet for the devastation it brings.
The big one in the scary mask is the one who drags you from the wreckage, lifting you into his arms when you’re still too dazed to do more than whimper pathetically. Fear and pain and adrenaline have crumpled you up into a little ball.
“Keep your eyes open,” he says, and maybe it’s a shout. His voice is so loud. When you open them, you nearly close your eyes instinctively when you see the gaping hole in the plane where it’s been torn apart.
“Where are—” it hurts to speak, but you have no choice, “—the others…”
He doesn’t respond. That makes it worse. You slip your arms around his neck so he can hike you closer up his chest. Slung over his shoulder is a black duffle bag that he must have pulled from the overhead, or what’s left of them. When your head turns on a swivel, you startle at the sight of the other attendant still strapped in his seat, his neck snapped back at an odd angle.
You turn your head away.
“My leg hurts really bad,” you sob, fingers clutched in the sweat-matted fabric of your saviour’s shirt.
He palms the back of your head and tips you just enough for you to meet his eyes. Something dark shutters over his face for a split second. If your eyes weren’t filled with tears, you might’ve noticed it. It passes fast though, too quick for you to register it in these conditions.
“‘Gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he says, gentler this time, rough-sounding like he’s not used to using that tone. “Gonna get us out of here and then I’ll check your leg. Just hang on to me.”
It’s hard to catalogue every moment because you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the man shift you in his arms whenever he clambers down the side of the mountain your plane must have flown into. There’s debris from the wreckage scattered around the rocks, the other half of the plane not too far away. When your eyes blink open briefly, you see how decimated the other half is.
There aren’t any other survivors. Only bodies. He doesn’t stop for them.
Far off from the wreckage, he sets you down onto the soft earth and rifles around in the bag he took. There’s a first aid kit with supplies that he uses to wrap your ankle, which is swollen and tender. The adrenaline crash is nearly more violent than the plane crash you just survived. It wracks through your body as the lieutenant strips your shoes and socks, gently manipulating your foot in his big hands. You notice he’s also lost the mask.
Ochre yellow and green plains spread outward from the mountains. You remember from the flight maps on board that you were somewhere over Mongolia, but the exact mountain range eludes you. This could be the Khangai or the Sayan or the Altai, but you have no way of knowing.
“Is there a…a phone in the bag? How’s anyone gonna know we’re out here?” You sound helpless, smaller than you’ve ever sounded.
He shakes his head. The tight ball of tension in the middle of your chest grows tighter. The thought that you’re stranded in the mountains in Mongolia, thousands of miles away from home and no way to get help is almost enough to send you into a panic attack.
A hand cups under your chin to tilt your head up. His face up close is exquisite and haunting—weathered in the way that career military men often are, burn marks and old scars littered across the delicate skin, lips perpetually chapped, and a nose that looks like it’s been broken way more than once. You can’t look away.
“Someone’ll be looking for us,” he says. It’s reassuring only because he says it like it’s a certain thing. “Don’t know if you saw who was on that flight roster. A lot of important men were supposed to arrive in Germany at twenty-one-hundred hours.”
You nod, tears still dribbling down your cheeks even when he swipes his thumb across to rub them away. He’s not wrong. There was a colonel on your flight after all. Dead now, hot corpse still steaming in the wreckage half a kilometre away, but he would’ve been important enough to warrant an immediate rescue.
You go still under his touch. “You weren’t on the flight list.”
He shakes his head. “Never am.”
“But you were with them?” You remember someone on the flight addressing him by his rank. It was early on in the service, when you were still strapping down bags and doing cross-check, making sure everything was in place. But you remember, even then, seeing that there were more bodies on the plane than names on the list; you’d brought it up to the captain, but he’d brushed off your concerns. Maybe he knew the reason behind the lieutenant’s name being held off the passenger list.
It’s all moot now anyway.
“Can’t bring a ghost on a flight,” he says darkly, like it’s a joke. Like you’re in on it together. “Can’t put it on the roster at least. S’bad luck after all.”
It’s a monstrous joke at a time like this. Your life feels cracked in half and the scarred brute of a man that pulled you from the wreckage makes jokes like it happens to him every other day. When the sky splits later that night and pours out a lake’s worth of rain, it feels appropriate. You huddle with the lieutenant at the base of a densely branched tree and shake.
Five weeks in the mountains go by slowly.
The shelter he builds is haphazard but meticulous, composed of various materials that Ghost scavenges from the plane wreck. A door becomes a makeshift roof. He makes you sit and wait as he collects dozens and dozens of branches, chopped down from the surrounding trees and fashioned into a lean-to. Padded with moss and leaves.
“I can help with getting the leaves,” you protest when he catches you hobbling around and carries you back to the nest of blankets and tarps that he’d pulled from the plane. He goes back every so often to see what remains and what can be used. It’s the only time other than when he hunts that Ghost leaves you alone for even a second, preferring to be within arm’s length of you the rest of the time.
“You can help by sitting your ass down,” Ghost grunts without even looking up at you.
You frown, fingers digging in the dirt by your feet. It’s a silly complaint but there’s never anything to do but wait.
In the early morning hours, Ghost goes off and hunts for you, when the world is still quiet and the animals are still asleep. They’re sluggish when dawn still hasn’t peeled its pink belly off the surface of the world. Ghost comes back with a deer slung over his shoulders one week, his knife still protruding from its neck, and your stomach only twists a little bit. Not used to seeing where your meat comes from.
There’s not much choice when you’re on your own in the elements. Every day, you expect to see a helo appear over the horizon, and you end each night crestfallen when it doesn’t.
It’s not like you haven’t completed basic training, a prerequisite to applying as a military flight attendant, but admittedly it’s been several years and basic never taught you to hunt for your food. You did other things that seemed, at the time, inconsequential to your career path, like learning to rappel and how to wait an hour for your NCO to show up for PT in the morning.
Even if your ankle hadn’t been badly sprained, you wouldn’t be much help. Ghost’s remarkably self-sufficient. It makes you question whether he’s done this before—whether he’s gotten stranded in the woods for weeks on end and had to learn to live hand-to-mouth.
“Have you…where’d you learn all of this?” you ask him in the dead of night, when the wind is a shrill hiss through the trees and you cower close to him in your sleeping bag (also salvaged from the wreck, though his has a tear down the side of it).
Ghost is quiet for a moment. “All over the place. Been doing this for years, love; had to learn.”
“Anything ever like this?”
Even with the absence of his mask, it gets so dark at night that you can’t see his face. You can hear the wry smile that plays on his lips in his voice though. “I’ve had worse days.”
There’s a story there that you see like a fish darting under the water. Too quick for you to catch with your bare hands.
You wake up with your cheek pressed against his pillowy chest most days. It’s embarrassing at first, but you learn to let it melt off you when you meet Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing there but piercing blue. They root you in place most of the time but they never tell you to move.
It takes a while before your ankle starts noticeably healing. In the intervening weeks, Ghost almost dotes on you, in a rough, untested sort of way. Like he doesn’t have much experiencing tending to another person besides himself for weeks on end. As the weeks drag on, it morphs into something unrecognizable, like a wounded animal healing wrong.
It starts when Ghost insists on sharing sleeping bags. It’ll be easier for him to pull you close if something tries to drag you off in the night (and doesn’t that thought put you on the brink of a panic attack until he shushes and soothes you). It escalates when you make the mistake of tending to the meat hanging over the fire while he fiddles with the little radio he’d dragged back from the plane, and the look he gives you when you tell him that supper is ready borders on reverent.
It gets even worse when he has you both strip your clothes off on a particularly cold and rainy night, wrapped around each other for warmth.
“Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” you hear him rumble, big hand drawing a line down your back. You do tremble at that. “C’mon, get closer. Gonna warm you up.”
You wake up in the middle of the night when your ankle is starting to feel solid enough that you think you can manage to go off on your own to relieve yourself instead of waking Ghost up again. That’s the plan anyway. Before you’ve even managed to crawl all of six feet away from your sleeping bag, a rough hand pins you by your shoulder to the ground and the heavy, over two-hundred pound body of your companion drapes itself over you.
“Where the fuck do you think yer going?” Ghost snarls.
For the first time in a week, there’s a moment of genuine fear. It’s like realizing for a split second that the animal you’ve let creep up behind you is a lot more dangerous than you thought it was.
“I have to pee,” you whisper-hiss, heart still skittering in your chest.
He’s silent behind you while he mulls that thought over; you think maybe he’s still half-asleep, his body acting on instinct before his brain’s ready to take over. The tension only releases you when he finally picks himself up off you, but it’s immediately made worse when he insists on accompanying you into the woods.
He doesn’t even turn around while you pull your underwear down and squat. Ghost’s eyes are bright in the dark, trained on you like it’s the thing that gives him purpose.
Things change in the woods. There are people who are only one bad thing away from reverting to their neolithic mind; as the weeks go on, you see the way his eyes change when they fall on you, no longer detached but gluttonous.
There’s a brown bear that slouches past your camp one day, sniffing around only because it’s curious, and Ghost all but completely obstructs your vision with how he shoves you behind him. He puffs up big when the bear gets too close, keeping you hidden until it snorts and ambles off, not interested in the pair of you.
Do animals act like this? He curls you around him in sleep, legs tangled together. When you soak in the lake under the glare of the sun, he slips into the water and comes up behind you until his hands close around your waist and he tugs you closer to the edge, away from the deeper parts. It’s testament to how long you’ve been out on your own that you’re no longer unaccustomed to the feel of his hands on your bare flesh.
His lips on your bare shoulder are a little less commonplace, but you only shiver and stare out at the mountains.
Then one day, you look up into the sky away from the sun and there it is, a black dot on the horizon at first. You scream for Ghost, who’s skinning a fish on a damp log near you and start waving your arms wildly in the air, unbridled joy streaming out of you. He’s quick to pull his mask on when the chopper lands a few hundred yards away and two similarly dressed soldiers spill out.
You ignore the stiffness in his body as he sits beside you in the chopper, pinning you against the side. Ignore the way he answers for you when the men start asking questions.
What does it mean to come back worse?
“Wha’s that, love?”
“Trauma bonding,” you repeat, swallowing nervously. It’s months later, but the weeks on the mountain and the forest still haunt you. The real world seems flimsier now that you’re back in it, less real somehow. Here, no one hunts for their food. “The therapist said that we trauma bonded. And—and that’s why you won’t—”
Here’s where the words can’t seem to come out on their own.
He sleeps in your bed these days—can’t stand to be more than a room away from you at any given time. Follows you into the bathroom when you need to clean up at the end of the day, crowding you into your too-small shower. The you from a month ago wouldn’t have been able to imagine inviting a six-foot-four soldier into your apartment, but—and here’s where your brain scrambles a bit to catch up—you didn’t invite him in.
He lifts a brow. The mask comes off in your apartment, so you’re able to see the way his lips slip into something unimpressed. “Why I won’t what?”
You swallow. “You know. Leave.”
“Do you want me to leave, love?”
That’s the crux of it. The heart of it. You really don’t. In the dark sometimes, if the wind rustles outside your window just right, shrill like those weeks in the forest and out on the open plains, your heart pounds in your chest until it grows so tight that you think it’ll just stop.
“No,” you whisper in response to his question.
Most nights, you wake up drenched in sweat, still half in a dream where you turn your head and the other flight attendant is staring back at you with wide, empty eyes. Blood dribbling down from his head. Where a plane is ripped in half, grey metal strewn across a mountain and the valley below is a dark pit where you go to die.
Then you roll over in your bed and Ghost is there, already awake and cupping a wide hand over your cheek, laying kiss after kiss across your face. Murmuring that it’ll be alright, that you’re safe. That he’s got you.
His breath is hot on your skin.
You let him roll you over and spread your legs when he says those things. Let him be a bit filthy after being so kind to you in the woods.
He spits on your pussy and rubs it in with a coarse thumb, chuckling when you yelp all breathlessly and squirm away. Sometimes when you fuck, he gets rough with you and slaps it, but he’s always tender with you after a nightmare, content to sooth you with his mouth on your pussy until you’re close to hyperventilating.
“S’alright, sweetheart,” Ghost breathes, spearing you on his turgid length, barrel chest heaving when he finally crams it all in. Always a bit too big for you to take without crying. “I got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”
It’s a new development, but it feels older than time. You could’ve let it happen in the woods and you might have, if no one had ever come.
“Look at me, sweet girl,” he tuts when you turn your head to the side, holding your face in one hand until you have no choice but to stare at the bulk of him straining over you. He has shoulders like mountains that roll when he pushes into you. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”
You don’t want to acknowledge what this is: that you found something in the woods and it followed you home.
#cod mw2#ceil writing#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod simon riley#simon riley x you#ghost/reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod
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LETHAL
NSFW! mdni, cw: possessive behavior, somnophilia, drugging, stalker!König, obsessive König (idk lmk if i forget anything)
word count: 1.5k
summary: he was picky and he picked you.
next chapter here
art cr: Tava_tavatic on twt
You were doing the dishes as he was watching you from the apartment building next door which had a wonderful view of your bedroom and kitchen. He had seen enough to know many things about you and your life. You left your house at 10 AM every day and returned at 8 PM. You were a homebody, never wanting to leave your home aside from work and you only had your cat for company. You lived alone in a nice house and didn't often have friends over. He couldn't see any guys when your friends came by, meaning you were single, perfect.
He could even hear the music you were playing while doing the dishes. Your delicious-looking lips moved in time with the song, mumbling the lyrics. He couldn't tear his eyes off your lips. Focusing on them and imagining how they would taste. Perhaps blackberry? He had seen the lip balm you bought a few days before when you complained about how dry your lips were in the winter. Would you let him taste it and find out? Would you even look at him after discovering what he did?
His thoughts were cut off when you finished cleaning the dishes and embraced your cat, it was bed time. His gaze was glued on your back as you left the kitchen and disappeared into your living room, and then reappeared in your bedroom. He knew every part of your house. His heart raced when you put the cat down on your bed and then began removing your shirt revealing the curves of your body and the black bra he was stupidly fond of. He moved closer to the window without realizing it. Crossing his arms to stop the aching feeling to touch your smooth skin, his fingers dug into his arms when you finally tossed the shirt somewhere in your room, probably onto the chair, and then threw yourself onto your mattress.
Yawning and getting comfortable with your cat, it purred and get its place next to you. He wishes it was him… Curling next to you falling asleep with the warmth of your body. But it was impossible, cause he was just your sweet neighbor that you only had small chats, cause he was fucking massive and probably would take the majority of the space of your bed. You eventually fell asleep, he checked his watch. Just in time.
Well maybe it wasn’t that impossible…
He continued his observation for a few more minutes but he was unable to contain himself anymore. He had to be with you. He had to feel you, your body, your hair, the curve of your waist and hips. He wanted to touch your lips, but he was afraid that if he kissed you he would just get lost into them and fuck you there.
He shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts before they got dirtier. He grabbed the keys of his and your house and made his way to your apartment. After entering your home and closing the door behind himself, he took his sweet time to breathe in the smell. It was full of you, it made his head spin and heart race. This was his first time coming into your house when you’re there. You were so introverted and had barely any friends. You were living happily in your small world, that was until he came.
The man was over two meters and had on a strange looking mask. He immediately drew your attention because he just looked like some game characters you played. At first he was distant, cold. His icy-blue eyes were intimidating but somehow inviting. You were the first to start the conversation with him, asking about his work. You two became closer with time but it was never too friendly. He was just some neighbor you knew. But he wanted more. Much more.
So after many months of observation and gaining a lot of information about you, he managed to copy your keys. He would come into your house and feed your cat with treats making his presence known and loved. Unfortunately just with your cat. But now his dreams were coming true. He had given you some homemade cookies. And poor you accepted them without any suspicion and now you were on your bed, in a deep sleep, as he walked into your room. Your cat immediately noticed him.
But he was too mesmerized by your sleeping form on the bed that he was frozen in his place. The cat meowed loudly, drawing his attention to it, he gave it some treats he brought with him. Everything was planned. When the cat was out of the room and the door of your bedroom was locked, he walked to your bed. He was finally here. Right next to you as you slept beautifully. He swallowed thickly and sat on the bed. The bed made a squeaking noise with his weight.
You looked even more pretty this close. His gaze lingered on your face; his breath hitched when his gaze stopped on your lips. He reached out a hand and brushed the strands of hair off your face. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking when he touched your hair. It was as soft as he imagined it would be. He tucked your hair behind your ear; his fingers lingered on your jaw before stopping on your chin and tilting your head up just a little, just so he could see your face better. Your lips parted and a soft sigh escaped from your lips when he did; his heart skipped a beat.
You continued to sleep, without noticing the man's touch on your face, thanks to the cookies. His thumb caressed your lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lower lip. He was holding the urge to give into his feelings, to give in to his desires and take you just then, in that moment. But he had to be patient. He wanted your first time together to be special, like you deserved. But it was turning him on so much to see you in that vulnerable state. He just wanted to tore of your bra and see what’s underneath. Then move to your sleeping shorts and take them off along with your panties so he could eat you out until you cum or wake up. He wondered what your expression would look like.
But still… it was just his fantasies. It caused him pain physically. “Scheiße, Maus.” he mumbled with a sigh. He took of his mask with his still trembling hands and put it on your nightstand, then took of his boots placing them on the floor next to your bed. He was ready to curl up with you. He climbed next to you, close. So close that you felt his breath on your face. His heart was beating like crazy now. His hands found your waist. “Gott.” he hissed when he felt how soft your skin was. His arms snaked around your waist and drew you close until your body fit perfectly with his, lips only centimeters apart. “Mine.” he growled. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack because the proximity of your body. Your body was almost disappeared inside his arms. It only made him want to protect and posses you.
His fingers caressed your skin as he watched your face closely. To memorize everything about you. He even tried to count your eyelashes. It was stupid but he was just too lost in your beauty. One of his hands found yours and put it on his face. Like you was caressing his cheek. It was pathetic but he was too desperate for your affection. He left your hand on his cheek and his hand found your back. His fingers tracing up and down on your spine then eventually stopped on the clasp of your bra. “Nein, not now.” he scolded himself with his eyes frowned. His gaze found your lips again and softened. He wanted- no he craved to kiss you. Your lips looked delicious.
He swallowed and closed his eyes promising himself that he would stop after a taste. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to contain himself; to show restraint. So, his hand was on your chin again, tilting your head up to meet his lips. When his lips brushed against yours, he took in a sharp breath; like someone just hit him with a bat, kissing you felt like it. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, as close as he could. His kiss started slowly, with all of his love and affection; with all of his feelings. But the craving... the craving only grew. His whole body shook as he stole your breath. The determination of containing himself was no where to be found with his morals. He moaned into your mouth and his cock throbbed. His hands traveled down and big palms covered your hips. The kiss was sloppy and hungrier now. He was too lost into heaven. You were his heaven.
a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc<3
Stalker König has a special place in my heart. this is definitely my favorite work. also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)
i’m so sleepless so i’m just gonna post this and post the rest tomorrow.
#konig x you#könig smut#könig fanfiction#könig x reader#könig x y/n#konig cod#konig smut#konig x reader#konig x y/n#könig#i know it’s könig#konig#konig mw2#konig imagine#stalker#tw stalking#obsessive könig#stalker könig#silay
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My Charming Red Savior [3]
・❥ You finally meet Alastor’s friends, only to then find your tea party rudely interrupted by an angry mob.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
x: no use of y/n.
~ 7.9k words
warnings: adult themes
“Um…hi?”
The group of demons scooted a few steps closer to you, anxious to get a better look at the unfamiliar face in front of them. Their expressions were mixed, suspicion, excitement, confusion. Their eyes scanned up and down your figure, and you suddenly felt awfully self-conscious.
You leaned back slightly from the onlookers, as much as Alastor’s hold on you would allow. His arm was snaked around your elbow, locking you in place, which was the only comfort in this very strange little world.
The Hazbin Hotel, just like that Imp and Alastor had described to you earlier in the day. The question is, how did you get here, exactly?
These demons didn’t seem unfriendly, or cruel. They just seemed shocked to see you here, most likely the same feelings you’re experiencing right now.
Did Alastor do that? He must have, but how? Through the ring?
And, what about your money, purse, wallet, and keys? Did that asshole run off with them after you vanished? You held back the urge to sigh, what a day.
“Alastor, mind explaining who this is?” The gray, shorter lady in front asked, arms crossed as she regarded you cautiously with a single eye.
Alastor only grinned mischievously, a small chuckle escaping his lips, before turning his gaze towards you. He tugged you forward gently, and your back straightened as you smiled widely.
“Well, isn’t it obvious with that charming smile? She’s my wife!”
Silence. Utter silence, so silent in fact, you swore you could hear gunshots ringing from a few blocks away.
Your eyebrows shot up, heat creeping on your cheeks as you processed his words. You side-eyed him, a question behind your glance.
Is he serious?
The platinum-blonde-haired woman's mouth dropped open, her eyes glimmering. That gray lady only reeled back slightly, eyeing both you and Alastor with even more suspicion.
“Whaaaaaa..?” The pink spider demon quirked an eyebrow, his gaze darting to a much shorter black-and-white feline man, who shot him a confused expression right back. The tiny Cyclops lady only jumped in place giddily, her hands to her mouth in glee.
It wasn’t until you felt a rumbling beside you, did you turn to find Alastor laughing, his shoulders shaking as he put a hand to his mouth.
The even more shocked faces in the crowd faltered, as they watched Alastor collect himself.
“Ah, to see your faces like this is quite amusing.” Alastor chuckled, taking a claw and lifting it to his eye to wipe a false tear.
“Real funny.” The winged cat grumbled, rolling his eyes. The woman in the red suit seemed to deflate, a frown on her lips. She looked like she was genuinely sad by the news. A similar pang hit your heart, before shaking it off. Right, he wasn’t your husband. It was just an act. You knew this, so why did you feel this way?
You heard Alastor clear his throat, before gesturing to you once more. “This darling belle before you is here because.. she is interested in redemption through the hotel!”
Huh? When in the world did that thought ever cross your mind? Your head snapped to him, and you caught the mischievous glint in his eye as the platinum-blonde lady in front of you beamed, the sparkle in her eyes almost blinding you as she bounced on her toes.
“Really?!” She squealed, before crossing the distance between the two of you. She leaned down slightly, meeting your gaze. “Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! Although, I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about it already."
Oh, this must be that daughter of the imp. The one that appeared before you before the store you worked at had opened, the one that told you his daughter owned the Hazbin Hotel. She didn’t look like an imp, though. You shook that thought off for a moment as she conversed with you.
“Not really,” you confessed, “I only know about you through Alastor.”
“Well, I’d be pleased to show you around and give you all the information you need to make a decision.” Charlie reached out her hand, a welcoming gesture. You hesitated before your eyes flicked up to Alastor, a thousand questions in your gaze.
But, what about your things? Why were you suddenly thrust into this situation? When were you going to get an explanation of how exactly you got here?
‘Go along with it, we’ll talk later.’ Alastor’s eyes seemed to speak, behind that charming grin. Just like it did the first time you met him. At least, you hoped that was what he was saying. You were going to talk to him no matter what, anyway.
You slipped your arm from his hold and grasped Charlie’s hand, and she tugged you beside her as she walked towards the group of demons. You felt a bit nervous as you approached them, seeing as their eyes had been on you since the moment you landed in their lobby.
“These two are our residents at the hotel! This is Sir. Pentious.” Charlie gestured to the tall snake demon, his hood covered his face slightly as he smiled bashfully.
“It’sssss a pleassure to meet you, my dear!” He said, clasping his hands together, and you smiled warmly in return. Sir. Pentious seemed like a respectful, modest demon. A rare gem. He reminded you of Alastor but with a flare of innocence to him. Or, at least, less murderous.
Charlie turned slightly towards that taller, fuzzy spider dressed rather scantily. “And, this is Angel Dust. He was our first guest when we originally opened!”
“How ya’ doin’, toots?” He winked at you, that golden tooth catching your eye as it shimmered in the warm lighting. He seemed to exude an air of confidence and charm that attracted attention effortlessly. At least, he was the first person to catch your eye when you materialized in front of them. It might just have been the bright pink fuzz, though.
“This is Husk… Niffty… Vaggie…” Charlie continued, introducing you to the rest of the staff. You stood beside her, patiently waiting for it to be over so you could speak to Alastor. Who was standing a ways behind you, no doubt tracing your figure as you slowly met each member. Finally, when you had finished greetings, Charlie turned to you. “I think it’s time we do a little tour of the hotel, get you familiar with everything!”
Your smile faltered for a moment. Right, you weren’t totally done yet. As much as you wanted to learn more about where you just dropped into, you had a very, very long day. Your plush, weighted covers that were sitting patiently back at home were calling to you. Still, Charlie turned towards the opposite side of the room, before glancing behind and beckoning you to follow. You obliged, keeping pace with her as she began to speak.
She guided you through multiple different locations, the kitchen, the lounge, and the bar. Soon, you were walking down a long hallway, rows of doors facing both sides of you. Were all these rooms vacant? Seemed like the hotel wasn’t very popular, though you weren’t surprised.
It wasn't until you entered a large sub-room, with a very lavish mahogany-wood staircase, that you stopped in your tracks and looked at the large frame hanging above you. Splashes of color filled your vision as you gazed at a large painting on the opposite side of the stairs. It depicted a large glistening, blue lake nestled in a sunny clearing around rows and rows of lush trees. At the edges of the lapping waves, fawns danced with small winged children in fields of sunlit flowers. Some held their hands to their mouths, giggling in joy as they frolicked carefree in the afternoon breeze.
You gawked at the painting for a few more moments, your eyes tracing the perfect lines and forms of each figure. The wings of the angels looked like actual feathers, carefully crafted through paint tools by a skilled hand.
“Isn’t it amazing?” Charlie swooned beside you, gazing up at the portrait. You nodded slowly in response, it was a very beautiful painting. Is that what Heaven looked like? If that was the case, you didn't mind giving redemption a try anymore.
“Who made this?”
“One of our staff here, they are our newest addition to the crew! I’d introduce the two of you, but they’re attending an art show tonight. An auction, I think. I’m sure you two would get along great, though!”
Yes, maybe you’d like that. Charlie continued on her path, as you rounded a corner into another hallway, the lights of the lobby off in the distance. You exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. You could finally speak to Alastor about the questions reeling in your head.
When you entered the lobby, the rest of the crew had dispersed. Angel Dust was lounging at the bar, offering Vaggie a drink who declined it curtly. Husker was growling something to Niffty, who was attempting to stab a bug atop the bar counter.
Alastor hadn’t followed you on that tour, instead, you found him leaning comfortably against the side of a wall. He stood there, a microfiber cloth in one hand and his red-tinted monocle in the other. Gingerly, he brushed the cloth across the small surface, wiping it clean of any imperfections.
It wasn’t until his gaze lifted and met yours, that the cloth vanished from his hand, and he adjusted the monocle back on his face. He straightened, resting slightly against his cane as the two of you approached him.
“So, what do you think?” Charlie pivoted to face you, a large smile on her lips. She looked so hopeful, and you did not want to say anything to hurt her feelings. You glanced at Alastor, who stood a little ways behind Charlie. His eyes were unreadable, that small smile of no help. Great, you were on your own with this one.
“Well, I think the hotel is very pretty.” You responded slowly, choosing your words carefully as you spoke.
“What about staying here?” Charlie leaned in slightly closer, bouncing on her toes as she beamed at you.
“Um, about that, It’s a nice offer and all but…” Charlie’s face dropped, her eyes glistening as she visibly deflated before your eyes. You grimaced, before taking a step closer, apologetically waving your hands. “But, I’m just pretty exhausted right now, so I think a good night's sleep will allow me to give you a better answer.”
Charlie perked at that. Even if it wasn't a ‘yes’ it was still better than your full rejection. She nodded, “That works with me!”
“Wonderful!” A voice buzzed behind Charlie before Alastor appeared next to her. He turned to the apple-cheeked woman, before widening his grin. “It seems like our new friend is rather tired, so I will do the honors and show them to their room.”
Wait, room? As in, here at the hotel? That was not your original plan, but, if it meant you were finally able to speak with the red demon, so be it.
Charlie agreed, before waving farewell to you and joining Vaggie on the couch. You turned to face Alastor, and he offered you his arm. You felt like ignoring it for a moment, and just walking beside him. Some kind of payback for suddenly dumping you here and into the arms of strangers.
After a moment, you sighed in defeat and laced your arm with his. He turned you to a second hallway and began to lead you down the winding corridor. After you were out of earshot, Alastor cleared his throat beside you, before turning his head slightly to face you.
“I’m surprised to see you here so soon, my dear. I knew you’d appear eventually, with how easily trouble seems to find you.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear how I even got here in the first place.” You replied sternly, prodding him for an explanation.
“Why, the ring of course!” He spoke, gesturing to your bare finger. “I embedded it with magic that would take you to safety if you were ever to be manhandled again while I am not present.”
You were silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Alastor put some kind of spell on the ring to protect you? Had that been there since he originally placed it on your finger? Now you were beginning to understand the strange words he said back in the tailoring room when he mentioned the ring being a charm for good luck. Heat began to creep on your cheeks, as you realized how offly sweet that was of him.
“Well, then I suppose I must thank you. If it weren’t for you, I may have gotten more than just my money and bag taken.”
“Ah, so that is what it was. Well, you don’t need to worry any longer, my dear. This hotel is safe from any kind of danger.” He patted your hand assuringly as you walked, “Which is why I only offered the idea back there, as I believe it benefits you more than anyone here.”
Alastor did all this because he cared about your well-being? The ring, the teleportation, living here, the killing. All for you. Even, your “relationship” with him was just that. Your mind went back to when he had laughed in the lobby, like the thought of being with you was that big of a joke to tell all his friends. He could have just not said anything! And yet, he acted so gentle and kind to you, even asking for your permission to kill your boss, just for asking you on a date!
Sure, you’ve only met Alastor like, what, twice? So, you weren’t expecting such a serious step in a relationship to be taken so fast, nor anything similar. But, there was no way Alastor had been doing all this out of the kindness of his heart, he’s the Radio Demon.
There had to be a real reason. He hasn’t even communicated his feelings on the matter, does he expect you to read every thought behind his gaze? You frowned, irritation setting on your face.
“I’m surprised you did all this,” you start, taking a slight step away from Alastor as you slip your arm out of his hold, continuing to keep pace with his footsteps, “seeing as you think what I have experienced this past week is so funny.”
Alastor halted in his tracks, and you were jerked slightly as you were pulled back from the hold on his arm. He turned his head to you, his ears flattened slightly as he searched your gaze. He tapped his claws against his cane, fast and erratic as he observed you.
“Are you referring to what I said when I introduced you?” He questioned slowly, That smile creeping a little higher as he tried to keep up the charm. You crossed your arms, attempting a stern stance as you took another step back.
“Yes, I didn’t exactly expect to be the punchline to your dismissive jokes.”
“My intentions were not to make light of recent events, I can assure you,” Alastor cleared his throat, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, “I simply wanted to gauge their reaction to such a statement, as I’ve spoken before, one must always be prepared for every situation. And, you must stop referring to them as my ‘friends’, I hardly know them.”
You didn’t have time to process his strange words before Alastor reached an arm out towards you, beckoning for you to take his hand. You only hesitated a second before crumbling, your fingers brushing softly against Alastor’s palm as he lifted your hand towards him. With one digit, he traced up your ring finger, before settling just above your knuckle. You hitched your breath, watching as a string of green light wrapped around your finger. It thickened, before a light green cloud of smoke poured from the light. Leaning down, Alastor lightly blew against your finger, and the smoke dispersed. Your eyes widened when that familiar, golden band began to glint against the hallway lights.
“There, now do you see? My words have been nothing but truthful, my doe.”
His fingers stayed on your hand a little longer, brushing softly against your knuckles, before he withdrew. You pulled your hand closer, twisting your finger until you could see it, that little rose-gold A etched onto the ring’s surface. A warm smile crept onto your lips as you inspected it. You kind of missed the feeling of it snuggled against your skin.
“Well, when you put it like that...” you trailed off, and Alastor grinned widely, accepting your response with a grin as he sidled close to you, motioning to the door in front of him. You turned, your eyes landing on the small 7 etched in gold against the wood. Was this your room?
“Am I staying here?” You questioned, turning to Alastor.
“Preferably, and it is a short distance from my room. Should you ever acquire my assistance, of course.”
“Where is your room?”
Alastor turned, one claw pointed directly across the little hallway towards a replica of your door. Okay.. his room was literally ten feet from you, he wasn’t playing when he said it was a “short” distance. Were you complaining, though?
Suddenly, a yawn overcame you, and your hand lifted to shield your gaping mouth as you sighed softly. God, you were awfully exhausted, mentally and physically. Alastor watched you rub your eyes, before he softened, that smile fading just a tad as his eyes glanced at the clock hung on the wall near your door.
“It seems like it has gotten late, I apologize for keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He bowed his head respectfully to you, withdrawing closer into the shadows. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer of staying at the hotel, better than the neighborhoods crawling with thugs back in the city.”
You nodded, smiling at him as your fingers snaked around the door handle. “I will think about it, don’t worry. I did find some interest in Charlie’s words when we went on that tour.”
“Wonderful. I bid you a good night then, my doe.”
You twisted the handle, backing slowly into the shaded room. You sent a small wave, smiling at him as you shut the door. Your surroundings were drenched in darkness, and you placed your forehead against the cool, wooden frame. You sighed, letting your muscles come loose finally in the quiet of your private domain.
Wow, what a day.
You awoke the next morning, dark circles under your eyes as you groaned sleepily from the rays of morning light hitting your face. The plush white covers slid around you, a large pillow in your hold as you pulled it close to your chest. You snuggled your face deeper into it, intent on falling back into blissful dreams.
Except, nothing came. Your brain just kept prodding you to wake, to rise from the warmth of your makeshift nest and greet the day.
‘To greet Alastor!’ It whispered excitedly, and you stirred again.
What time was it? Waking in a room different from yours always throws off your sleep schedule. Turning your head slightly, you eyed the digital clock on the bedside table. It was seven in the morning, you had slept for almost ten hours. Impressive.
Slowly, you rose from the bed, your arms lifting above your head as you took a big stretch. Yawning, you pivoted, your feet landing on the cold, unfamiliar wood floor.
You sat there for a moment, your eyelids lifting slowly as you let yourself wake naturally.
What was your plan today? It seemed like Alastor insisted on you staying at the hotel, as well as Charlie. But, you had a place of your own. One that you rented, but with all your stuff nonetheless.
You still had a job, but seeing as the Hazbin Hotel provided everything of necessity for free, it wouldn’t hurt to lessen your load and start working part-time. Plus, less Alan. Yay!
Maybe, you’d go home later, collect what you needed and come back. You could even see if Alastor would do his little teleportation trick, it wasn’t so bad being pulled around like that if it cut your travel time to only a few seconds.
It seemed like this was your new room too, which wasn’t so bad. There was a bathroom, a balcony, a dining table, and basic furniture. And, Alastor was right across the hall! You were surprised when he had placed you so close to his own living quarters.
Wasn’t your relationship just a farce, like he had joked in the lobby yesterday night? Maybe, he felt you’d feel more comfortable being near someone familiar.
Maybe, he felt more comfortable having you close to him.
These thoughts spun through your head as you got ready for the day. Your face was soaked with water as you reached for a hand towel on the rack next to the bathroom sink, the soft cotton refreshing as you sank your face into it.
Weirdly, there was a small stack of fresh clothes on top of your dresser. Also weirdly, in your size. Who could have put them there? You examined them anyway, finding them not too far off from your normal style before slipping into the garments.
Opening the curtains, you pushed open the balcony doors. That cool breeze brushed against your ears as you inhaled a deep breath. A smile playing on your lips as you let the warmth of a new day hit your cheeks.
It was nice here, actually. The hotel was far enough away from the streets that the smell of garbage and booze didn’t hit your nose as you inhaled the breeze again. You couldn’t hear the loud profanities or honking cars from all the way up here.
It was amazing. Maybe, staying here was going to be pretty good.
You left the fresh air draft into your room, as you walked to the door. Your fingers caressed the handle for only a moment as you hesitated, before you shook yourself and took a deep breath. The door slowly creaked open, squeaking as it inched backward. Your head slowly peaked out of the door, your eyes scanning down the hall, before eventually landing in front of you.
Alastor’s door. The wood was dark, walnut-brown with golden borders that glinted underneath the wall sconces. There was nothing unusual about it, but it was it being his door that made it stand out against all the identical rooms in this hotel.
Should you knock? Ask him for directions back to the lobby? No, that was going to be weird. You didn’t want him to think you were using him or anything. No matter how much of a gentleman he acted.
Instead, you simply slipped through the threshold and quietly shut the door behind you.
Okay… so you definitely remember your room being on the right side of the hall when you came here last night. Which meant the lobby was somewhere left. Nice, at least we’re getting somewhere.
Turning, you begin your trek down the long hallway. Your eyes would occasionally glance at paintings, or your reflection on wall-length mirrors, as you walked. It wasn’t long before you arrived at a larger sub room, with a few pieces of furniture like benches and side tables. There was a TV in one corner, with stacks of newspapers on a coffee table in front of it.
It seemed to be like a small lounge, and you noted that in your head for later. The problem was, the room then split into three separate hallways. Your shoulders dropped, and your lips curved downward at the sight. Why was this place hellbent on meddling with your biggest weakness?
Crossing the room to one corridor, you peeked around the corner. There was nothing familiar you could pick out from it, no distant noises that gave you an inking of a guess. You gulped, how exactly were you supposed to get back to civilization now?
“There you are, my dear!”
You turned, your back hitting the wall as you watched the red demon stroll towards you. He stopped a few steps away, a pleased look on his face at the sight of you.
“Alastor! I was hoping to catch a familiar face out here.”
“Well, aren’t you glad that face was me?” He beamed, extending his arm out for you to take. Without hesitation, you slid your arm into his hold, locking at the elbows.
“Of course! You are the only familiar face here, honestly. I might have forgotten your friends' names during the night.” You smiled apologetically.
“Don’t worry, they are quite colorful characters, these people. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“They seem to be, although I'm not sure whether they like me yet.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Alastor smiled, patting your hand assuring. “you exude a warmth and charm that it is impossible not to be drawn to.”
Heat crept into your cheeks, and you averted your gaze to the ground.
“Take those silly fellows that can’t seem to stop bothering you, always courting for your affection, my word, just practically begging for your attention!”
Well, that was a more positive light on what you’ve been through this past week.
“If those are the kind of people that want my attention. Then, maybe I don’t want any of it at all.”
Alastor was silent for a moment as the two of you continued walking, you felt his arm in your hold tense slightly. Was he thinking about something?
“Come now, my dear. There are plenty of individuals who would cherish every moment spent in your company, without resorting to such antics.”
You lifted your head and met his gaze, and he only continued to smile at you. His eyes were genuine, as he looked at you. One might even consider them soft. Is that how Alastor felt when the two of you spent time together?
You hadn’t spoken very much to him, at least on personal matters. But, with how the others in the hotel regarded him, it seemed he didn’t do that ever.
Has he ever told them about his mother or her recipes? Trusted them to fix his clothes, to care for him? Alastor seemed to put distance—figuratively and literally—between him and others.
But, with you? Well, calling a strange woman your wife the first time you laid eyes on her is rather bold and personal for such a man.
You felt flustered at the thought that you were the one Alastor chose for such things. You averted your gaze again, a sheepish smile on your lips.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
“It’s nothing at all. Why don’t you join me for some coffee? There is a patio right at the front of the hotel, it’s my favorite place to spend my mornings.”
He wanted to spend time with you? Well, you weren’t going to argue with that.
“Of course, I'd love to! You’ll just have to lead the way.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
The two of you walked in silence, as you passed through another long hallway. You could hear faint voices in the distance, growing louder at each step.
Was everyone else in the lobby? Would you have to greet them all again?
You saw the large threshold of the front room, and saw the glimpse of the large stained-glass front doors peeking from the corner. Right as you were about to walk through, Alastor nudged you to the side of the hall, and you turned to find a small set of stairs leading up a level.
You tried to memorize the path in your mind, for next time. The voices from the lobby grew more audible now, and you could hear what sounded like Charlie and Sir. Pentious speaking. A conversation about his path to redemption.
Isn’t that what they expected you to do now? Beg to Heaven to let you through the pearly gates because you repented for your sins? You doubted whether that was even possible.
As you neared the staircase, you turned your head to the lobby before looking back to Alastor. Were they just going to ignore the rest of the residents? You quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Are we not going to say hello to your friends?”
“Why bother? They have their routines, we have ours.”
You didn’t say anything to that, instead, just let him glide the two of you up the stairs towards a pair of glass doors. You could see the light-red hues of morning peeking from the drawn shades.
Carefully, Alastor twisted the handle and pulled open the doors, that cool breeze hitting your face as soon as you stepped through the doorway.
“Well, here we are.” He spoke, slowly unlacing his arm from yours.
In front of you, was a small tea table and a single chair staring out at the city. A few flowers decorated along the short, metal railing in porcelain pots. Their colorful blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, as you stepped up to the table.
“Do forgive me, my dear. I seem to have forgotten a seat, I'm not used to company up here.”
With a quick snap of his fingers, a second, identical chair materialized across the table. A small radio emerged from a small pool of green fog as it dispersed on a post at one edge of the railing. It played a soft, jazzy melody as you crossed the small balcony, before positioning yourself in front of the seat to sit.
“Please, allow me.” Alastor appeared beside you, one hand on the chair’s back as he pulled it out from the table.
“Why, aren’t you just a gentleman?” You teased, before lowering yourself onto the small cushion velcroed to the chair’s seat. You felt Alastor push you closer to the table, before he lowered himself slightly to meet your gaze.
“Now, what would you like to drink? Tea, coffee, orange juice? Anything you desire, my dear.” He spoke, smiling as his nails clicked rhythmically against the table.
You told him, and with another snap of his fingers, two pieces of glassware settled upon the table. A pitcher materialized in his hand, before Alastor lowered it to your cup and began pouring the contents.
It swirled around your glass, and you watched it settle as he poured it to the brim. Your eyes trailed his hands as the pitcher melded into a coffee pot, and you watched the dark, steaming liquid land into his glass.
He didn’t add any cream or sugar, and you watched in surprise as he settled into his seat without any modifications to his drink.
“You drink your coffee black?” You asked curiously, an eyebrow quirked as you tilted your head at him.
“Mm, yes. I find that it helps sharpen the senses, and heightens one’s awareness. In a place like this, one must always have control of their surroundings. Don’t you think so?”
You nodded, taking a sip of your drink as you listened. He was right, in a way, about needing to be prepared for anything in Hell. But, why continue to punish yourself by taking away the few good things you could have in such a depressing realm? Maybe, Alastor didn’t think there was any good in Hell.
Watching Alastor lift the coffee to his lips, you noticed the way his entire face softened as the bitter flavor hit his tongue. His smile was so very faint now, almost a firm line, but it seemed.. peaceful. His eyes were slightly lidded, in an expression of contentedness as the breeze tickled at the fur on his ears. The music was peaceful white noise as you sat there, hand underneath your chin, gazing at Alastor as he looked out at the city, a small smile on his lips. Oh, how you so enjoyed his lipped smiles.
It was like that for a few more quiet moments, as the sky continued to lighten until Alastor turned his eyes to you. You squirmed underneath his gaze, realizing you were caught mid-ogle by him. He regarded you curiously for a few moments.
“Find anything of interest in your observation?” Alastor asked slyly, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Your ears are very fluffy” You blurted, before slapping a hand to your mouth. Alastor’s eyes widened slightly at your brazen response.
“Pardon?” He asked after a moment, the static in his tone thicker, hoarser, as the words left his lips. As if he couldn’t comprehend that was what you had landed on. Did no one ever compliment his ears? Correction, did no one ever genuinely compliment him other than to save their skin or to praise his power?
“Your ears, when the wind blows on them they puff out a little from the cold,” you practically whispered through your fingers, “I imagine if someone were to squeeze them, they'd feel so soft too, like squishing a plush teddy bear.”
You buried your face farther into your hands as those words left your lips, heat creeping onto your cheeks. Why were you thinking about touching his head? What happened to not taking too bold of steps? You did not need to overindulge him on what you thought of his ears. Jesus, you were embarrassing.
Peeking through your fingers, you saw Alastor averting his gaze, taking a sudden interest in some flowers near his chair. His ears were flattened slightly, as he adjusted the collar of his suit feverishly. His smile wavered slightly, flickering to a nervous expression. Was Alastor flustered by your comment?
“What an–ahem–unique perspective. My, you are such a charm, my dear, you truly have a way with words. Thank you for the compliment.”
There was silence again, as the tune from the radio seemed to grow slightly louder, drowning out your beating heart. You grabbed your drink, throwing your head back and downing the rest of it in one gulp. If only it was alcohol instead, so you could at least have an excuse for your comments. It was Alastor who spoke up again next, and you were relieved to be changing the topic.
“Tell me, now that you’ve gotten a little more familiar with it, what do you think of the hotel?”
“I think it’s… cute,” you answered softly, your finger circling the lip of your glass as you thought of more to say, “Charlie has a very large dream, and she seems to be the best one suited for the job with the influence she has. But, her residents…? Well, I wonder whether they have it in them to change, especially that–ah, what was his name–guy, Angel Dust? I could see Sir. Pentious being redeemed though. I’m sure he’d do good in Heaven.”
A small chuckle reverberated from Alastor’s throat as he closed his eyes, an amusing smile on his lips. You closed your mouth quickly, leaning back slightly. What was so funny about what you said?
“What?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow again as you crossed your arms.
Alastor cleared his throat, before meeting your eyes again. “Nothing, I just find the concept of a second chance awfully.. silly, you could say.”
“You don’t believe in sinners being able to go to Heaven?”
“Goodness, not at all.”
“But.. you’re helping run the hotel trying to do just that?”
“Well, yes, but it is just simple charity work. I had heard about this place on that noisy little picture box months ago, and how much the demons on the street laughed at it.” Alastor took another large sip of his coffee, adjusting his monocle slightly as he set the cup back down. “That is the problem, my dear. Every sinner in this city has had their chance at going to Heaven, back on earth. They lost it, and now, they’ll only laugh at the concept of such a thing.”
“What was life like for you?”
“Life?” Alastor raised his eyebrows at you, his claws halting mid-tap against the table's surface. His ears swiveled slightly to face you, his gaze curious.
You grimaced, you hadn’t meant to ask that out loud. Should you brush it off? Just because he told you about his mother and his radio show, doesn’t mean he was going to fill you in on his entire past. But, you were so curious! What kind of man did your false husband wake up to be every morning? What did he experience that gave him such pessimistic, ultra-realistic views?
“On Earth,” you clarified, straightening in your seat as you fidgeted with the glass in front of you, “What was it like?”
“Ah, you want to know more about the greatest era in mankind’s history? I’d love to indulge you on such a topic! You know, the first radio station was started in the 1920’s, and of course that only was the beginning of such a wonderful medium. I believe it was called KDKA, I remember exactly where I was standing when the first broadcast hit the radio, I believe it was about th–”
“No, I mean, what did you do on Earth, Alastor?” You interrupted, prodding him for a real answer. You weren’t looking for a history lesson, you wanted to know more about him.
“Me?” He sputtered, caught off guard by your question once more.
“What was your favorite thing to do when you were a child?”
Alastor looked like he wasn’t going to respond, for a moment. His eyes were squinting at you, reading your expression. Did he think you had some kind of ulterior motive? That you were going to take any information and sell it to the highest bidder against him? Your expression was genuine, however, and he only sighed. His brows furrowed in thought, as he recalled distant memories.
“Sometimes, my mother would send me to town for baking ingredients, and every time I'd choose the longest route, which was Frenchmen Street. New Orleans is famous for many things, art, food, but most importantly, music.”
“Music?”
“Indeed! Music is the heartbeat of New Orleans,” Alastor continued, a wistful smile playing on his lips as he delved into memories of his childhood. "I remember those days vividly, wandering that long, vibrant street, soaking in the melodies that filled the air. Jazz, blues, the soulful rhythms that seemed to draw in huge crowds like moths to a flame."
He paused, lost in thought for a moment before continuing. "And then there were the nights when the city truly came alive. My mother would take me to smoky jazz clubs, where the air hummed with energy and every note seemed to carry a story. I was captivated by the raw emotion of the musicians, their ability to weave tales with nothing but their instruments and their voices."
A flicker of nostalgia danced in his eyes as he recalled the details, those hidden, buried emotions rising out of him slowly. “I realized then how powerful such mediums truly were, they had the magical ability to perpetuate emotions, feed the crowds, and fuel the thoughts. Music is just another form of art, of course. I’m sure you saw our dear artist’s paintings, and I’m sure they stirred something in you, hm?”
You nodded slowly, leaning forward in your seat, enraptured in his words as they spilled from his tongue. Gosh, his voice was just so nice to listen to. That radio overlay that dripped from his tone was like white noise that tickled your brain with pleasure. You thought his laughs were cute, the way they crackled softly with static.
“I’m sure you would have been happy standing there for hours just to marvel at its beauty. Music can do the same, and when you’re a famous radio host like me,” Alastor gestured to himself, a prideful smirk on his lips, “You need that form of hypnosis to get all the listeners to tune in to the next broadcast, and to keep their interest. Without that power, I wouldn’t be as well known as I am now.”
You were sure he would still be well known for more than his radio broadcasts, with the reputation Alastor had with his… violent tendencies.
“There,” Alastor sighed, like a heavy weight was lifted off of his chest, “are you pleased with my response, my dear?”
“I think I am sated for now.” You responded with a smile, batting your eyelashes as you leaned back into your chair.
“Good, now, I believe it is my turn to ask you a question.” Alastor straightened, his claw clicking softly against the table in sync with the music buzzing in the background. You raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly in anticipation as he leaned slightly across the table.
“Have you decided on whether you are going to reside at the hotel and try redemption?”
You tensed, smiling wider as your mind raced. Sweat beaded on your eyebrow as Alastor looked at you expectantly. What was your decision? Sure, you’d get free room and board, it was no doubt safer than your home, and maybe, just maybe, redemption could actually work. But, was it enough to flip your whole life upset down, over what, a demon man who helped you out a couple of times?
“Alastor, I–”
Your voice was drowned out by a powerful explosion that rocked the patio, the radio fell from the railing and disappeared from sight, as the music faded with it. Your ears rang from the small blast, which had barely missed the wall of the hotel. Alastor’s head snapped to the source of violence, eyes narrowing as the figures of burly demons grew more visible as they approached. There were about four of them, who each held pistols, and a few rolled a grenade between their fingers.
“Angel Dust!! Come out here, you filthy skank!” One snarled from the group, fist raised towards the hotel.
“Ah shit!” You could hear the faint voice of the spider demon coming from the lobby, it sounded frantic as a head poked out from the large entrance doors.
“What did you do?!” You heard Vaggie growl, as another explosion rocked the side of the hotel.
“I sold em’ fake drugs! They thought they were buying coke, but I only gave em’ baking powder!”
“Angel, you idiot!” Vaggie snarled in response.
You shrunk back in your chair, your heart beating erratically and you watched a few more men gather on the hill. What was going to happen? Why did this always happen to you?
Alastor sighed exasperatedly, rising from his seat as he straightened his bowtie. He turned towards you, walking to your place across the table. Your hands were still resting on its surface when Alastor reached down and gently grasped them, before lifting them to your face. He laid your palms against your eyelids, adjusting your fingers to where only darkness greeted your vision.
“Just keep still just like this for now, my dear. I will be back in only a moment!” He replied chipperly, before you felt footsteps fade away from earshot. The silence didn't last very long, before your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of screaming and strangled gasps. You felt the ground rumbling slightly under your feet, and you only shrunk deeper into your chair.
The screaming wasn't anyone familiar though, instead, it sounded like it was those drug dealers
“Yeah! Kick their ass, Alastor!” Angel Dust cheered from your left, and you perked.
Your fingers splayed slightly, as you picked between the gaps. Your vision was greeted with large, dark green tentacles that snaked in the air. They weaved around small figures who were scrambling across the clearing in a desperate attempt to survive. Some wrapped around the flailing demons, before pitching them far in the distance. Their screams faded as they disappeared from view.
You couldn’t see Alastor, but you assumed he was out of harm's way since the tentacles were doing a good job corralling the thugs. There were a few stragglers that managed to dodge his attacks, though. That became very obvious when a clawed hand reached over the railing, and you screamed as a dark gray, shark-faced man rose into sight.
He growled at you, as he landed with a thump on the old, cracked tile. A large knife was pulled from a sheath around his waist, and he twisted it between his fingers as he stalked up to you. You pressed yourself as deep into your chair as possible, your body frozen in terror.
“₩ⱧɆⱤɆ ĐØ ɎØɄ ₮Ⱨł₦₭ ɎØɄⱤɆ ₲Øł₦₲?” You heard a snarl of static from the ground, before a tentacle wrapped roughly around the shark demon’s body. His face morphed into a look of terror, right before he was flung away from the patio and beat into the ground by the large mass.
The gang of thugs were almost finished, as you finally exhaled a shaky breath. Your heart felt like it was about to burst, and your eyes darted around the area for any danger.
You shot up from the chair, scrambling to the doorway for safety. You stumbled off balance as the ground rumbled underneath your feet once more, your knees hitting the tile.
Growling in pain, you twisted your head to get a look at what had happened. Your eyes darted across them before you saw the small, cylindrical object fly towards you and land against the railing of the patio.
It erupted into a small ball of flame, before it burst into a large cloud of dark gray smoke, shaking the floor beneath you more violently as shrapnel flew. You tried to scramble away, as the large table was thrown to its side, and began to skid across the tiles towards you.
Your body couldn’t react fast enough to dodge the incoming object, instead, all you could do was throw your arms up and curl closer to yourself, screaming. Praying for mercy from the oncoming blow.
Except… nothing happened. The chaos still ensued around you, and the screams of terror and maniacal laughter still rang in your ears. You felt no pain, yet could still feel the breeze whipping against your arms as you held them up defensively. What just happened? You’re not like, double-dead, are you?
Slowly, you lowered your arms, planting them beneath you to help lift yourself from the ground. As you rose to your feet, your eyelids fluttered open.
The table was split in half, lying burnt on both sides of the patio. A slight trail of smoke wafted from their remains, and your eyes traveled across the tiled floor to what had caused the destruction.
Your eyes landed on an unfamiliar figure, their white overcoat swaying slightly in the wind as they regarded you. That platinum-blonde hair glinted in the morning light beneath the rim of his hat, and your eyes rested on those awfully familiar red cheek spots that stuck out from his pale face.
Your mouth dropped open, eyes widening, as the name of this strange man dawned on you. The image of the fallen angel, the most powerful man in the realm, stood before you.
Lucifer, the King of Hell, was leaning against the partially-destroyed railing. His arms crossed as he regarded your slightly battered form curiously.
“Did I miss anything?” The apple-cheeked man teased, sending you a charming grin. His demeanor was calm, and playful, despite the chaotic scene around him.
Would it be taken as disrespectful if you fainted right about now?
man i rlly dug myself into a hole with these titles huh x) i’ll think of something guys don’t worry. but can i just say how much i love throwing the reader into all this chaos, fun fun!
lmk what you think :)
taglist 🏷️
@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @rayanicaraynbow @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @laundrybear @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie
(it only lets me mention 50 of you?! im so sorry to the rest of y’all 😭😭 i’ll reblog it with more tags sksksjjsjsj)
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Video Games
We combined the console and mobile games lists and two dating sims still came out on top. Go figure.
Genshin Impact
Baldur's Gate 3
The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom
Five Nights at Freddy’s
Splatoon 3
Twisted Wonderland
Undertale
Ace Attorney
Pokémon Violet and Scarlet
Obey Me! Shall We Date?
Disco Elysium
The Sims 4
Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2
Deltarune
Team Fortress 2
Hogwarts Legacy
Final Fantasy XIV
Honkai: Star Rail
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Minecraft
Persona 5
Pizza Tower
Rain World
Hollow Knight
Hades
Danganronpa
Arknights
Animal Crossing: New Horizons
Project Sekai
Elden Ring
Touhou
Stardew Valley
The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
ULTRAKILL
Pikmin 4
Guilty Gear
Overwatch
Portal
Omori
Flight Rising
Resident Evil 4
God of War
Red Dead Redemption 2
Sonic Frontiers
The Stanley Parable
Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Cyberpunk 2077
Limbus Company
Mortal Kombat
Bendy and the Dark Revival
Destiny 2
Bloodborne
Among Us
Yakuza
Silent Hill
Ensemble Stars
Cookie Run
League of Legends
Bendy And The Ink Machine
Fear & Hunger
Dragon Age: Inquisition
Cult Of The Lamb
Fallout: New Vegas
Half-Life
Resident Evil Village
Pathologic
The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time
The Murder Of Sonic The Hedgehog
Professor Layton
Dragon Age 2
The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Fire Emblem Engage
Devil May Cry
Pokémon Legends: Arceus
The Sims 2
Fallout 4
Cuphead
Persona 3
Metroid
Final Fantasy VII
Dragon Age: Origins
Metal Gear Solid
The Witcher
Psychonauts
Pokémon Mystery Dungeon
Street Fighter
Guild Wars 2
The Sims 3
Dead By Daylight
Horizon Forbidden West
World of Warcraft
Starfield
Umineko
Detroit: Become Human
Yume Nikki
Monster Hunter
Pokémon Black and White
Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Night in the Woods
This is a newly-combined list! Yay!
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ENVY | EREN JAEGER • the seven slutty sins series: part two
he’s not selfish, he just wants you all to himself..
musician/influencer au, possessive (yandere if you squint) eren, black fem reader, rough sex, spit play, hair pulling, overstim, exhibitionism, etc.
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eren never got jealous!
at least that’s what he told himself..nothing ever really garnered that much of a rise out of the rapper. Sure, he’d have fleeting moments of self doubt and insecurity like any other warm blooded human on this planet but one thing that could be said of EJ The Don, was that he was no hater. Others’ problems or accomplishments were of no consequence to him…someone trending higher on the charts for a number one spot? Cool. Just meant that it was their time instead of his. Awards shows? He wasn’t bothered. One man’s win didn’t spell failure for him. And when it came to women? EJ was the textbook definition of unbothered. He was cool on every single one that had ever crossed his path. Nonchalant and never worried with the possibility that he could lose her. Simply put, it wasn’t a problem for him. He was also never worried about his proverbial competition..because on the off chance that another guy was in the picture, there was no question of who she was going home with! He never had a reason to resent anyone..
…that was until he saw you with him!
“Oh my—‘rennn, fuuuck, I can’t..”
“Can’t what, hmm? Go ‘head, speak up, baby. I’m listening..”
he was calm and collected until he spotted you on Twitter..one of the rare instances he decided to actually engage with the app and he happens to see his beloved (y/n) dancing to his best friend’s song. Subtly shaking your ass to the upbeat instrumental in that skin tight dress. A sheer thong peeking out underneath and giving the world a small glimpse of what belonged to him…that tiny string swallowed up by the thick of that ass and plump pussy lips. The same ones that were all but drooling for him at the moment as he thrashed around your insides with a thumb gently placed into that puckering asshole to aid in your pleasure.
“N-no more..you win…I can’t take it..”
you’d declare in haste, but he wasn’t buying it. Or rather, he didn’t give a fuck! Why would he when you couldn’t be vexed to consider how he’d feel? Seeing you twerk to the sound of his homeboy’s lyrics when he was all that you needed? He was the only one that could turn you so salacious..ripping your clothes off as if they were paper thin..that much proven by the fact that right now, you were bent over the counter space where his friend had just sat prior to going on stage. Buried to the hilt on his stiff, aching cock as he hooked two fingers into your mouth whilst they swabbed your tongue. The same one that throbbed and pulsed at the very sight of you..the one that swelled so large, it made it damn near uncomfortable to sit down when you showed off that pretty little body and once you spread those legs to show him what was in between, his tip seeped with precum and embarrassingly, sometimes, he’d come all on his lonesome. Hence why he was pounding your cunt into full blown submission and sincerely hoped that someone would catch you two in the act right now.
“You say that but you keep throwing that shit back on me..take that dick and shut the fuck up..”
those same slender, tattooed fingers that were once hooked in the side of your jaw and underneath you to massage that very sensitive clit, were now cupped around your throat so that you could get a generous glimpse at your face right now. That beautiful face desecrated with fallen tears and ruined makeup. Your melted lace lifted clean from the perimeter of your head as he tugged it to keep you in place with those deep strokes. “Look in that fucking mirror. Look how pretty you are taking that dick..” Alternating his pacing between rough and gentle, fast and slow..all in an attempt to bring you closer to your inevitable peak..one that would undoubtedly leave you in a dripping wet mess. He’d watch you tap at that countertop to concede defeat or even reach back to paw at his abs but was only met with sharp hisses and a demented laugh, letting you know that he didn’t care about your pathetic pleas. Honestly, they were nothing more than fuel for his desires. Tugging your head back to occasionally fill those jaws with generous strings of saliva; slapping you to promptly receive your gratitude.
“Did you think I was gon’ let you get away with that shit, baby? This is mine..this my pussy..”
something he’d instill that empty little brain of yours, even if it took all night. If it took another artist and all of the staff backstage walking in, witnessing you in this vulnerable state. “Now open up. Spread that ass open..I want you to take all my nut…get you so full you can’t go nowhere..”
make no mistake, he wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t even jealous…he just wanted you all to himself.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
@jadeisthirsting @spaceforher @honeybleed @shamelesshoefairy @calibabii21 @kaennih-skittles @astrokatsuki @bey0nseh @anubisisthebomb
#cherry’s works ✦⭒#aot x black reader#eren x black fem!reader#black fem reader#musician x influencer au#black reader smut#aot au#black reader#eren x black reader#eren jaeger#eren jeager smut#eren jaeger smut#eren jaeger x black reader#eren yeager#eren#eren aot#eren x reader#eren smut#eren x you#aot smut#aot fanfiction#aot#attack on titan#attack on titan au#attack on titan smut#cw spit#cw suggestive#cw breeding#cw yandere#cw exhibitionism
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here's the thing about charles dickens. [discussion of his antisemitism, misogyny, and racism ahead.]
his last, unfinished novel, the mystery of edwin drood, features helena and neville landless, heroic and sympathetic south asian (sri lankan, specifically) characters, and the racism they endure in an english town is relevant to the plot to the point where neville ends up falsely accused of murder. in the wake of the indian rebellion of 1857, dickens applauded the english brutality against "that oriental race," and called for genocide.
fagin is called "the jew" 274 times in the first half of oliver twist. an article in the jewish chronicle asked why "jews alone should be excluded from the 'sympathizing heart' of this great author and powerful friend of the oppressed." at first, dickens dismissed this, and claimed he was just being accurate about london's criminal makeup. but he was moved enough by eliza davis's letters to him on the matter that he halted the printing of the latter half of oliver twist so he could change the text and remove the antisemitic language therein.
dickens was an abolitionist who despised chattel slavery in the united states, and called emancipation a "moral duty." dickens didn't think black americans were intelligent enough to vote, and he wrote an entire character in bleak house who is a joke to be disliked and mocked because she'd rather oversee charity missions to help children in africa than be a proper mother and tend to her own family at home in england.
speaking of one's own family at home in england, dickens smeared his wife, catherine hogarth, publicly so he could justify separating from her and taking up with a younger woman. catherine hogarth was likely mentally ill, likely living with postpartum depression. she was also an author in her own right and loved her family dearly. her reputation never recovered in her lifetime from the claims he made about her. in dickens's novels, time and time again, from nicholas nickleby to david copperfield to our mutual friend to the mystery of edwin drood, men who menace and take advantage of vulnerable women are portrayed as the worst kind of villains, deserving of whatever grisly ends come to them.
charles dickens was both privately and publicly a raging asshole in many ways and the world would be worse off without him, because he wrote for bourgeois, comfortable victorians, the very people who so often failed to "think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys." in the same breath that he calls agnes fleming, who opens oliver twist as an unwed mother dying in a workhouse, "weak and erring," he dares to add that "i do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook-ay, though it is a church." he calculated jo's death to the page in bleak house for maximum effect. but when he wrote of the orphaned crossing-sweeper, "dead, your majesty. dead, my lords and gentlemen. dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. and dying thus around us every day," people listened.
i dedicated years of my life to reading him and studying him and thinking about him and writing about him and his novels. now, i turn to condemn him; now, i turn to justify him. i wish i had a time machine so i could shake his hand. i wish i had a time machine so i could publicly debate him. i wish i had a time machine so i could break his nose.
charles dickens gives me courage and hope. charles dickens makes me want to tear my goddamn hair out. he is everything i despise and everything i love about the victorian age in one; the term "a man of his time" ought to have been invented for him. the leaps and bounds the victorians made for progress in the public good are only matched in greatness by the extremity of their atrocities against their "fellow-passengers" on this earth. the way we think about nearly every modern social ill can be traced back to the 19th century; the way we think about nearly every modern idea of social justice can be traced back to the 19th century. every last one is writ large and small in dickens's novels. he and his age are the greatest contradictions in human history and that's why i can't shut up about them, ever, even when i am exhausted by them, even when i am inspired by them, even when it was two centuries ago and it shouldn't matter anymore, but it does. it always will.
#filthy victorians; they made me what i'm made of.#;swan has a word.#;the long nineteenth century.#;they who call the whole world brother.
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End of the Road || LH44
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader
Summary: when you and your husband both have a surprise to share you find your plans for the future clashing
Warnings: 18+ only, pregnancy, angst, fluff
WC: 2.9k
F1 Masterlist
30th November 2025
You had waited two long years for this day to come. When Lewis had told you he was extending his contract with Mercedes back in 2023 you had struggled to accept it. You could feel your body clock counting down and wanted nothing more than to start a family with Lewis but refused to have him be a part time father because of his career. You knew he was made to be a father, you had seen it in every interaction with his nieces and nephews as well as his young fans, it was just a matter of finding the right time to retire.
That day had finally come.
You woke with a smile on your face and rolled over in Lewis’ arms to see him watching you, his own smile playing at his lips.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
There was no hiding your excitement as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers tracing the tattoos that decorated his skin. “Are you excited, Lew?”
“I am,” he hummed as his large hands ran up your thighs to rest on your hips. “I actually have a surprise.”
Your smile grew and you dipped your head down to kiss him. “Me too.”
Lewis’ phone rang beside the bed and you saw Toto’s name flash up on the screen. With a groan, you climbed off your husband and went to start your morning routine before heading to the race. Soon, you told yourself, soon there would be no more early interruptions from team principles or blacked out SUVs arriving to take you to your next destination.
The paddock was electrifying and the crowds went wild for Lewis when he stepped out onto the grid for his final driver’s parade. You watched on proudly from the balcony above the Mercedes pit space with Roscoe by your side.
“I’m going to miss this,” you said as you bent down and scratched him under his chin. “You’re going to miss this too, or the extra attention at least.”
Roscoe looked up at you with sad eyes as if he could understand exactly what you were saying and you smiled. “But I promise you won’t be lonely. You’ll have some company soon enough.”
“And that is the end of the 2025 season. Sir Lewis Hamilton, the seven time world champion has officially won his long awaited eighth championship! What a career this man has had and he will be sorely missed by the teams and fans alike.”
Your throat was hoarse from all the screaming you had done in support of your husband as he crossed the finish line just ahead of Lando Norris to secure the title that had once been stolen from him. You couldn’t believe that after 18 years in Formula 1 he got to finish on a high. Nico Rosenberg was right to retire after winning his championship because it had been disheartening to watch so many other world champions fall down the rankings before losing their seats. It had been one of Lewis’ fears confessed in the late night conversations you shared on other ends of the world.
You picked up Roscoe and pulled a custom made shirt over his head before tucking his paws in the armholes and racing down to the pit lane. The Mercedes team made space for you to reach the metal barrier just as Lewis parked his car up one last time. Standing above the halo, he threw his fists up and let the cheers saturate his being for a moment, committing it to memory before he leapt down and kissed the car. A thank you, a farewell? You wouldn’t know.
He spotted you in an instant, flipping his visor up so you could see the tears shimmering in his eyes as he made his way over. His fingers traced the lettering that decorated the car with each step, ‘still I rise’, it was his mantra and his reminder. Those were the same letters inked across his shoulders and you had kissed them that morning before he pulled his shirt on.
Roscoe barked at his daddy’s approach and you barely kept him in your arms when Lewis reached you, pulling you both into a tight hug. His face was damp with sweat and tears when you kissed him but it didn’t register in your mind.
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Couldn’t have done it without you, darling.” His grin split his face and you could have stayed in that moment forever, but post race interviews were calling him away. “Remember that surprise?”
You nodded and he winked as he quickly stepped away to take the microphone held out to him, his fingers slipping from yours. Lewis waved to the crowd as he stepped onto the red carpet laid out and the first question had your stomach turning.
Rumours…there had always been rumours running rife around the paddock. There were rumours long before you stepped foot in the F1 world and there would be rumours long after you stepped out. But this rumour was one you hadn’t heard about.
Your ears started thrumming with the rush of blood to your head and you stopped hearing everything after Lewis smiled. You knew that smile. That was the relieved smile after successfully keeping a secret. That was the smile you had seen when he proposed to you, the same smile he had when he flew you to Barbados for your birthday.
“Yes, it’s true,” he said as he blocked one ear from the noise the crowd made. “Things changed, the seat came up unexpectedly and I said yes. I’ll be back here next year with Mercedes.”
Roscoe squirmed in your arms as you tried to take his shirt off and you placed him at your feet before he could hurt himself or you. Your hands scrambled to hold the metal as your chest began to tighten - the plans you had made together crumbling at the news.
“Roscoe!”
Your cry somehow caught Lewis’ attention over the deafening atmosphere and he turned to see his furbaby sneak under the barrier and run towards him. Dropping to his knee, still clutching the mic, Lewis greeted his regular sidekick in parc ferme.
“What’s this cute outfit?” Naomi asked with a smile as she knelt down too and read the print on the shirt you hadn’t finished removing. “Big brother?”
“I…I…” Lewis was lost for words as he read the rest and looked your way in shock. “Baby Hamilton?”
A silence spread as the microphone picked up the whisper and echoed it across the entire track. The cameras turned to you and you felt them zooming in on you, capturing the moment that was meant to be full of joy but you felt nothing except betrayal.
All eyes were on you as you nodded once, closing your eyes to hide the tears that were blurring your vision.
You didn’t hear your husband finish the interview, but you felt the moment he reached you. His presence was something you had always been attuned to and you felt the warmth of his palms before they cradled your cheek, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your lashes.
“Open your eyes for me, beautiful,” he pleaded softly and you took a deep breath before they fluttered open. Pure joy met you on the face of the man who owned your heart, a happiness that came from deep within his soul as he dropped a hand to your abdomen. “We’re having a baby?”
“Can we–can we talk about this after?” you whispered after another sure nod. His brows instantly pulled into a frown but you ignored it as you took his hand and placed it on the rail. “You have a podium to claim, champ.”
He was torn as he ran a hand over this hair that you had spent hours painstakingly braiding for him before leaving Monaco but you eased his unease with a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too, more than anything.”
“But not more than this sport.” His back stiffened as he turned away but it should have been impossible to hear the truth you uttered beneath your breath.
You waited as a good wife, a patient wife, should, but you wished you were far away from all things Formula 1. You watched your husband take the centre stage and receive the fruits of his labour, the race trophy and the promise of the coveted WDC trophy at the FIA awards in a week's time. You tried to smile as he placed his palm over his chest before pointing at you, knowing that your initials and date of the wedding were forever marked upon the skin he touched. It was a message he sent for you, one of the many ways he communicated his love over the years.
Somewhere along the way something had been lost in translation.
You paced the private room nervously while Roscoe snored loudly on the couch in the corner. Lewis should have returned to the motorhome already but he had likely been caught up in the crowds all wanting to congratulate him on his win and his impending fatherhood. A lot of the other teams had already left the paddock and the atmosphere was quickly quietening down outside the door.
The knots in your stomach tied tighter at the knock on the door and when you opened it to see Lewis’ security your palms grew sweaty. “Where’s Lew? Is he alright?”
“He’s alright, ma’am, but there’s quite a bit of activity around him so he thought we should get you back to the hotel first.”
It wasn’t the first time that the crowds had grown too large that he wanted to keep you away. Your safety was always his priority. “Okay, but who's with him?”
“FIA security have him covered.”
You nodded and grabbed Roscoe’s leash, clipping it to his collar as he slowly lifted his head and yawned. If you weren’t already stressed you would have laughed when he dropped his head back on his paws and closed his eyes. “Come on, Rosc, I can’t carry you everywhere. Work with me here.”
He seemed to sense the change in you and began to stretch, shaking his coat out before jumping off the couch and sidling up to your feet for a quick pat. “I think we are ready, Dwayne,” you confirmed as you looked around to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.Dwayne opened the door and stepped into formation with the rest of the team around you, sheltering you out of the building and along the busy paths to where the cars were parked. You had never really felt anxious when surrounded by security but it crept in as you saw just how many people were hanging around the Mercedes building. This was more attention than you were used to, this time it was aimed at you - or more accurately the child of a champion that you carried.
You had already showered and changed by the time your husband arrived at the five star hotel you would stay at for one more night. You heard the door beep as a key card was scanned before it opened and you untucked your legs from underneath you as he walked in.
Lewis looked drained as he shucked his jacket off and draped it over the coat rack with a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him around the room to where he grabbed a chilled bottle of water and cracked it open. His steps were slow and unsure as he walked back, coming to a stop behind the couch. You listened to the quiet thud of the empty bottle being placed on the table before a hand rested either side of your body.
“Hi,” he greeted softly.
You tipped your head back into the cushion to look up at him before rolling your head to the side and kissing the wedding band on his hand. “Hi.”
“It’s been quite the day.”
His lips twitched with a smile at the scoff you made before you reached up to him. He dipped his head until your fingertips found his skin and pulled him the rest of the way down to capture his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered across your lips before pulling back and walking around the couch so he could see you properly, but he didn’t sit with you.
After a moment of watching him pace around the rug, you broke the tense silence. “You said you were going to retire.”
His eyes darted to your stomach as he ran his thumb over his lips, back and forth. “And you said you were going to wait.”
You placed your hand over the non-existent bump and sighed. “For what it is worth, I didn’t plan this - it just happened, but I thought the timing was some goddamn miracle. Until today.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“This changes everything, can’t you see that? I had a part time father who missed the big things because he wasn’t there, Lew, and I don’t want that for my child.” You wiped your eyes before you met his so he could see the hurt you felt. “You should have told me.”
“You should have told me.”
You laughed humorlessly and grabbed a pillow, cuddling it close as if it could hide the truth beneath it and pretend everything was okay. “Guess we both hate surprises.”
His pacing stopped dead in his tracks and he shook his head before he dropped to his knees at your feet and took your hand. “I don’t hate this surprise. Whatever else you think about me aside, I love that we are having a baby. You and me, darling. Our baby, like we always planned.”
“But you’ve made plans without me. What happens next year when you’re gone and I’m at home with a newborn? What if you miss her birth?”
“Her?” he asked as he looked up wide eyed.
“It’s too soon to find out,” you answered quietly. “I just have a feeling.”
He slowly pulled the pillow away from you before smiling as he ran the back of his fingers over your stomach. “I feel her too, strong like her mama.”
Something cracked in your chest as you finally felt the joy you were hoping for all afternoon. You saw the love and devotion he already had for his child, it was right there in his dark brown eyes that shimmered in the light of the chandelier.
“I’m sorry,” you choked, placing your hands over his.
“Me too” he rasped as he took the space beside you and pulled you onto his lap. His arms welcomed you home, offering warmth and security in their embrace while he pressed his lips to your forehead. “I’ll talk to Toto, darling, he’ll understand.”
7th December 2025
Lewis had attached himself to your hip and refused to leave your side until his name was called at the end of the awards. The final and most important trophy had been his goal for the past four years, its elusiveness at last coming to an end.
Pride radiated from you and everyone at the Mercedes table as your husband picked up the WDC trophy and kissed the polished metal.
“There’s so many people I have to thank for giving me the opportunity to win eight of these, but we would be here all night. I’ll stick to the main ones then: my beautiful wife, Y/N, who has been my biggest supporter, especially during those hard years, my not-as-beautiful team principal, Toto, for giving me a really fast car, and to all the engineers who built it. Thank you.”
Lewis looked at his reflection in the trophy and beside you Toto sniffled at what was to come. You reached over to squeeze his hand as Lewis cleared the lump in his throat.
“It’s been one hell of a journey getting here and I have met some very special people along the way, but, the most important one is yet to come and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. That is why I have chosen tonight to be the end of my road with Formula 1 but I will cherish the memories I made along the way as I start a new journey - one likely to be even harder to prepare for.”
“He’s going to be a great father,” Toto whispered as he wiped his eyes.
Your smile was beginning to ache from how long it had been on your face. “I know.”
“So,” Lewis hummed as the murmurs grew over the sudden change of heart he had compared to a week ago, “it is my honour to be the one to announce that Bianca Bustamante will be driving in Mercedes for 2026. Congratulations, Bi, you deserve it.”
Lewis held the trophy up for the flash of the photographers before leaving the stage and weaving his way back to your table. Everyone he passed gave him a standing ovation and Toto rose to meet him too, hugging each other tightly and sharing a few words of thanks before he returned to his seat beside you.
“You’re meant to thank your mum and your dad then move on,” you teased, “not make everyone cry.”
Lewis laughed, placing the trophy on table with the floral centrepieces. “Did Toto cry?”
You leaned into your husband’s side as his arm draped over your chair and you giggled with a nod. “Like a baby.”
Lewis looked at his old boss fondly before sending you a wink. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to that.”
#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton imagine#f1 rpf#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine
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currently doing one of my most hated chores which is laundry and it got me thinking.
It's bloody laundry day again. You've got no extra clothes to really wear apart from a loose, grey, too thin pajama shirt and the shorts it came with.
Tragic, but not the end of the world. No one goes to wash their clothes looking like they're right off the runway. And it's also far too early for the laundromat to be packed.
You'll survive.
Slamming your trunk closed, you straighten and wipe the sweat that's beaded on your forehead. Damn muggy air. Even at this hour, the weather chooses violence.
Pulling the door open, you step inside and hiss out a breath through your teeth. In here it's not any better. And there's only one big fan on, out of the many that are in here.
God you hate laundry day.
At least it looks empty.
Tucking your hair away in a makeshift, sloppy bun, you drag your dirty clothes basket to a washer and throw them in.
Next is your detergent and when you pick up the fabric softener, it's almost empty.
God fucking damnit.
And the person that sells stuff isn't in behind the desk.
Slamming the lid closed, you kick your hamper into against the washer and walk toward the cursed fan that probably only circulates the hot ass air in here. But with the way your pathetic shirt is turning damp and sheer from the sweat, and short strands of hair that are starting to glue themselves to the back of your neck, worse is nothing.
And then you're standing in the corner of the laundromat, getting hot air weakly blown into your flushed face. "Goddamn it's hot. Useless fucking fan is just here for decor, i think."
"Ah think so too."
You choke back a scream and spin on the balls of your feet to the deep, accented voice behind you.
A muscular pretty boy with hair the color of damp soil and blue eyes that sparkle brightly, even under the dim light of the place sits with his back to a washer that's currently going.
Devastatingly handsome. And you've been throwing a hissy fit for the past half hour, only to appear in front of him resembling a drowned rat.
Flatlining right now would be great.
"Damned hot in here, alrigh'. Isnae tha' so, Simon?"
Who? Oh no.
How you missed that behemoth is beyond you, but he rises from the ground like a slumbering giant. Ash brown choppy hair and dark, sharp eyes with the rest of his face covered by a black cloth mask. 6'4 at least, and built like bloody fridge.
Someone kill you now.
"Johnny."
His piercing eyes cut to you before flicking back to the man on the floor.
"Get the detergent."
"Aye." Scottish, it sounds like.
You briskly walk away from them two, face burning with embarrassment, back to the washer you're using.
Today of all days, you come across these two. You could cry, honestly.
They're there for as long as you are, and you've long since gotten past your self-consciousness. If you have to melt in this stifling heat for one more second, you just might scream.
You grab your clothes from the dryer with haste, haphazardly throwing them in your basket and with a quick, 'Have a good day!', you're out the door.
As you're about to get in your car, the scot comes bustling out the front door of the laundromat.
"Lass! Ah think these're yers."
What he holds in his hands has tears springing into your eyes.
Undergarments. Why the hell is he-
You can see the tall brit leaning on a machine, with his arms crossed and he's looking right at you.
The walk of shame to the pretty one is almost unbearable. Your trembling hand reaches for your garment. "Thank you."
He chuckles under his breath. "Anytime. See ye around."
How mortifying.
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bts fics that give me life in a drought
(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2
didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!
➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi
| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k
mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series
>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"
this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm
➺ novocaine - by @kinktae
| jimin x reader |
1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series
>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."
➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo
| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k
angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot
>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."
ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.
➺ take five - by @jiminrings
| yoongi x reader | 10k
angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning
summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."
➺ page turner - by @gukslut
| taehyung x reader | 13.6k
teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst
summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."
my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.
➺ bloom- by @hobidreams
| namjoon x reader | 20.7k
assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff
>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."
➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit
| seokjin x reader | 29k
modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy
>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”
➺ if i told you - by @gukyi
| jungkook x reader | 22k
friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst
>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."
➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie
| taehyung x reader | 19.1k
dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au
>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"
#bts fic rec#fic recs#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x oc#bts angst#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#taehyung angst#taehyung smut#jimin angst#jimin smut#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#bts fan fiction#fic rec list#namjoon angst#namjoon smut#hoseok angst#hoseok smut#seokjin angst#seokjin smut#bts masterlist#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#seokjin x reader#hoseok x reader#namjoon x reader
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𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 | getō suguru
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rigger! Geto x fem/afab! reader - shibari; rope bondage (boxtie, breast, crotch, elbow) - blindfolded - gagged (handkerchief) - fingering (f! receiving) - pleasure denial - oral (m! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, little/pretty bird, sweetie, ) - mention of drool/saliva and tears.
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: c'mon now, y'all KNOW geto would be into rope play. matter of fact, it's canon cuz I'm part of gege's assistant team, lol. also, tysm for 2.5k, y'all are too kind ♡
inspired by a talk b/w me and @ramonathinks (ily hon!!)
"Thank you so much for the help, Geto."
"No problem, now be good and always behave from now on."
"Oh, I will!" The spiky raven-haired offers a warm smile to the woman as two men usher her out of his room, the three dark figures seen from the sliding door disappearing with footsteps heading to the corner of the hallway. Geto then gets up from the tatami flooring and stretches.
He then stands and looks at the door for three seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
After a full minute, his purple eyes peer at the sliding door to his right, taking light steps when approaching the room next door. Geto hovers an ear next to the door, trying to hear something from the other side if it contrasts with the silence of the room he’s currently in. He gives it a few more seconds before sighing through his nostrils, a sly smile creeping up. Geto brings a hand to the handle, finally sliding it to the right and revealing what was inside.
And to his mischievous glee, his smile grows from ear to ear. Because it wasn’t a what that had him chuckling to himself — it was a who.
And who laid on the tatami floor before him was you. You were nude, your body covered in red rope, your mouth gagged by a red handkerchief, and your eyes covered in a black blindfold.
There, you lay on your side on the floor. The red rope around your body restrains your arms and hands behind your back in a boxtie position, and your bare chest prompts up for exposure. The cord separates your breasts to each side, leaving a unique and alluring design that crosses throughout your abdomen and down south. No undergarments in sight; therefore, your chasm was out in the room’s air, the red cable slithering down between your folds, leaving a wet residue on the strict texture.
And, good Lord. The whimpers you use to comfort yourself in this situation. All naked and isolated to the confines of this dark room, away from light and hospitality. Your meek voice is the only thing that holds familiarity to you. That is until you hear Geto close the door behind himself, the sounds of his light footsteps dancing around the room.
“Well, hello there, little bird.” The warm tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine, for you could hear the words parade condescendingly. Geto walks around the room, lighting up the candles. The smell of smoke and the rosy scent enter your nostrils. “Sorry for leaving you in the dark like this. Were you lonely?”
He can only hear the mumbles confined from the handkerchief, which he can only assume was confirmation. “I apologize, baby. I had to leave our little session to tend to some business with some monkeys.” He said the last word with such slight vexation; you were bright to listen hard enough to catch it. Geto comes to you and sits next to your restricted body. “But now, you have my full attention, sweetie.”
Cold, slender fingers touch your cheek, causing you to jerk at the sensation. It makes him snicker. “You know why I have you like this, yeah?” His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping off drool at the corner of your mouth. “I saw you, my pretty bird, in the garden yesterday. You looked so beautiful and pure with the world — my world.” They snake down to your neck and brush your collarbone. His fingertips now become warm from the friction of your enchanting skin. “Then, I saw some parasite — a man worth for sore eyes — come and talk to you. He even had the gall to touch your hands with his filthy palms.” The hand now comes to your breast, a small gasp when they brush your nipples. “And you, such an amiable and accepting person, let him touch you like that. Unbeknownst to my vision.” Those same digits tweeze the bud or your mound, resulting in a sharp pant covered by the cloth in your mouth. “Who? Who told you to let that happen? Hmm?”
Of course, he doesn’t wait for your response; what response? Your muffled moans and puffs of air? How silly. Geto brings his mouth to your other nipple, taking it in and sucking on it. The lapping motions of his tongue and the grazes of his teeth distract you from his hand snaking down with the red rope to your cunt. His digits now intrude on your southern lips, playing with your wetness in a teasing manner. And when you feel his forefinger about to enter your slit, you can’t help but sway your hips to invite him in. And it’s detected by the raven-haired man.
“Oh? You want me to put them inside, baby?” He already knows the answer; it’s no surprise when you nod helplessly. However, he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, angel. Or should I even call you that anymore — how can an angel of mine be stained by the stench of such a foul monkey, huh.” His fingers move away from your cunt, now toying with the flesh of your inner thigh. Oh, the way your brows trench and how you whine for him. It always awakens something in him — something carnal. And how can he subject himself to the cries of his little bird? “Alright, alright. But if you really want me so badly, prove it to me. You can do that, right?”
Geto removes his hand and mouth from your body, your chasm and nipples feeling outcasted from his warm touch. You jolt when the handkerchief in your mouth loosens and soon meets the tatami floor. Yet, your vision is still shielded by the black cloth. “Su–Suguru,” you chant his name in trembles. “Please forgive me, I—“
“I will forgive you,” the sound of clothing rustling fills the space, indicating that he’s now removing his monk attire. The black yukata comes undone, revealing his upper body while he pulls his pants down to his thighs. Something touches the plump of your lips, the tip seeking entry to your oral cavity. “Just suck me off like you always do, and all will be forgiven. You’re still my angel, right?” And with that, you accept the head of his cock with patient yearning, hallowing your cheeks while your tongue welcomes the underside of his limb. And it takes everything in Geto’s power not to rut your face with relentless vigor. He wants to take this slow first. He needs to see if you deserve his kindness. “Mmmm, good. Just like that…”
A few bobs to the base of his length is enough to put you in a trance, especially with the blindfold hindering your sense of vision, forcing you to rely on others. His smell is so intoxicating, the taste of his precum overcoming your tastebuds and the slap of his balls on your chin. Unhurried thrusts slowly but surely dial up to speed by the seconds. Your euphoric hums become frequent as his dick hits the back of your throat, every inch of him sinking deep into your mouth and throat that strains of saliva streak down to the dent of your chin. Your toes curl when he grinds his pelvis down to your lips, nose pressed to the pubes that fill your nostrils with his raw scent. Good God, it feels so good, the throbbing sensation in your chasm between your legs flourishing within.
And it goes the same for Geto, too. Both his hands find purchase on your head, keeping you in position for him to rut your face. Your tight throat grips him so nicely, the gummy walls holding onto him so deliciously that he can’t fight the wanton need anymore. Erratic hits to your face become apparent, making your mouth soaped with saliva that drips down to the room flooring. And you take the jabs to the back of your throat with ease, mewling on his cock with pleasure while being used like a toy as the head of his shaft bullies your insides.
He pulls his head back, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his body jerks to the electric shocks climbing up. He’s close/ So, so close. “…Haaahh—Mmmph!! Damn, you feel so good for me…I’m cumming, angel. Gonna—Ahhhh! Christ…Hmmph!!” With gritted teeth, Geto drills his dick deep within your throat, the warm fluid excreting out his glans greeting its velvety walls. Blissful hums from you vibrate your throat, sending shivers to Geto while he experiences his crescendo.
When he’s finally done with his high and his load is inside you, he gradually removes his length from you. The tip of his cock resting on your tongue, which licks off any excess come. He then moves to free your shut eyelids from the black blindfold, your eyes fluttering at the scene of the warmly dimmed room, and Geto is now inches away from your face. Your watery eyes sparkle from the candlelight, and tears strike down and slide down your breast until the red rope captures it. “Forgive me, Suguru. I will always be yours. Only yours…”
He gives you a playful sneer, using a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek. He'd be a fool if he let you off the hook, especially now when you look at him as if he's your entire world. That's all he wants from the person he loves more than anything.
“You’re forgiven. And now, my pretty bird,” you can see the slight devious glint that harbors in his dark, violet eyes.
“I shall reward you.”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – transparent edit made by me + dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru imagines#geto suguru x you#getou suguru x you#getou suguru x reader#getou suguru smut#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk imagines
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❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver
Not again! A fiery demon found his way to her once more, somehow bypassing the protection that Rasmia granted to her and her team. The oracle brough a hand to the nape of her neck, where a storm cloud should have spread its lightnings across the skin... was it gone already? How could it be?
Armed with her Decanter of Endless Water, she kept trying to push the creature away, but the steam that was produced by the contact of water and fire clouded the area. She became an easy target...
...if it wasn't for a stranger who stepped in. She gasped, scared by what could have been, surprised by the selfless intervention. Maybe she saw this man once, maybe never before; but if it wasn't for him, she would have gathered yet another wound. It was worse now. It was on someone else instead.
No way.
To that sight, she called upon her cosmic powers: her feet were momentarily lifted from the ground as she opened her arms wide, gathering energy that flowed fast through the air to her command. A tear in space seemed to partly envelop the fiendish creature, whose hooves and horns quickly developed some ice frost.
"Please! Finish him!"
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Ready for another azriel request??? I’m rereading the series right now so I’m BEGGING for some azriel action😭 I was thinking something a little angsty maybe azriel and the reader (obviously mated) get into an argument or he snaps at her or something like that (you can decide) and so she starts to distance herself and one day she gets attacked or kidnapped or something (again you can decide) and azriel is panicking and stuff. I just really want some groveling or begging or something idk. Ending with fluff obviously. Sorry all of my requests are long and detailed😭 thank you thooo❤️
hey love! I planned this out awhile ago but I've been busy with visiting family; thank you for the request as always💜
There With You
Azriel x Reader
warnings: reader is captured but no explicit torture, miscommunication trope
The rustling of leaves sounded to your right, hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at your hip as you and Azriel looked to the source of the noise.
A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blew from your lips at the sight of the crow landing in the tree, dried Autumn leaves drifting to the ground beneath the creature.
Allowing your hand to drop from your weapon, you continued your walk through the wood, the distraction of the bird causing your misstep.
The branch underneath your boot cracked in an echo that seemed to silence the rest of the forest, the world growing eerily quiet around you for a moment. Azriel stood still as stone to your left, hazel eyes simmering with something akin to anger.
“You need to be more careful,” he murmured, voice as soft and cutting as the cool wind that whipped through the air. Holding back the sigh that aimed to leave your lips, you hissed through your teeth, gaze slicing to meet your mate’s.
“I stepped on a branch, Azriel,” you retorted, face growing heated at the awareness of how something as small as a snapping branch could blow your mission. Nonetheless, the condescension with which Az was speaking to you was enough to lead you to dig your heels in for this argument. “A cracked stick in the forest isn’t going to summon the entire Autumn Court,” you muttered bitterly.
A scarred hand took your arm in a gentle but firm grip. “You know well that we do not need to summon the High Court. A farmer looking to gain favor with Beron could see us. That is all it would take to destroy the mission...” he trailed off, removing his hand to drag it over his tired features.
“I told Rhys this was a bad strategy. He knows how much more difficult you make this,” your mate grumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stopped abruptly.
Azriel’s eyes widened, jaw dropping slightly as his head turned to you. Before he could speak, you raised a stiff hand, pausing him in his own tracks. “I make this difficult? I didn’t realize what a burden I am, Azriel.” The words spewed from you in a fountain of anger, welling up inside, hands clenched at your sides.
“Let’s go in different directions. We’ll cover ground more quickly, and we can find the book and get out of here... without making this anymore difficult for you,” you shot over your shoulder, shaking off the shadow that tried to keep you from walking away.
A soft huff sounded from behind you, betraying the feelings of guilt you could feel through the bond before you shut it off. Drawing your dagger, you angrily whacked at any branches and leaves that dared cross your path, stomping through the wood in search of the book Eris had taken from his father’s study for you.
Blinded by your anger, you missed the sound of soldiers being winnowed in behind you until it was too late. The rush of leaves on the wind perked your ears, but by the time that you turned to see one of the Vanserra brothers behind you with his guard, a circle of fire had engulfed you.
Walls of flame surrounded you, a dome of heat drawing the oxygen from your lungs as black spotted your vision. Opening the bond with your little remaining strength, you felt Azriel’s panic before losing consciousness.
~~~
You awoke in a damp room, dark save for the flickering fae light in the center of the cell. Head pounding you force your eyes to take in the cold, wet stone, the wall to which you are chained.
Mouth dry with thirst, your head bobs towards the creaking door, a vaguely familiar figure stepping through it. “Keep this closed. We don’t need anyone above hearing what happens in here.” Dark laughter sounded from the guards as they dutifully closed the heavy door.
The moment the bar slid into the lock, amber eyes shot to you, Eris’s voice laced with concern as he spoke. “Where is Azriel?” he demanded, a soft hand cupping your jaw as he helped you focus on him.
Swallowing thickly, you gazed up at the flaming red hair, burning whiskey eyes that demanded an answer that you wouldn’t, couldn’t give. “We split to cover more ground quickly,” you muttered, a half-truth. “We were struggling to find the book you left for us.”
The last part came out as a hiss, Eris’s hand dropping from you as though burned by your words. Any sign of pity left his expression, the mask of Autumn Lord slipping on easily. “Of course he would struggle with such simple instructions,” he drawled, looking down at you, a cat toying with a mouse.
An exasperated huff of laughter escaped you at the male bravado. “If you could discard whatever issue exists between you two for one moment,” you shot back, “I would appreciate some assistance - perhaps some context - to our current situation.”
Yanking on the chains for emphasis, your expression turned from teasing to paled at Eris’s grim reaction. The Lord’s lips thinned as he blew out a quiet breath, golden eyes searching the thick walls of the room before he dared to speak.
“I cannot let you escape under my watch,” he muttered, a hand running through the deep red of his hair, gears turning in his head. “Azriel knows where you are. I have asked one of my more... inept brothers, to guard you while I arrange a meeting with my father.”
Flames danced in his eyes, searing intensity reminding you of Eris’s power when he turned to you. “If any harm comes to my younger brother, be assured that your mate will regret ever crossing the boundary into my Court.”
Something sparked inside of you at his words, the intensity with which Eris defended his family. Respect welled deep inside of you, breath short as you nodded. “I will keep your family safe, Eris,” you breathed, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips as his features softened under the comfort of your promise.
“Make sure your bond is open so that he can sense you,” Eris directed, turning on his heel to leave. You did as he said, opening your bond as you reached out in any direction for where Azriel might be. Eris’s steps halted for a moment, a sharp catch in his breath before he shook his head, hand lifting to knock on the cell door.
Eris didn’t bother to look back when he strode through the archway, graceful steps leading him from the depths of your enclosure. One guard flashed his yellow teeth in a grin that sent disgust through you, your middle finger struggling to angle in response before he slammed the door.
No sooner had the dust settled from the sliding entryway than shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel materializing in the darkness. Your mate collapsed to the ground in front of you, his knees hitting stone as wings sagged behind him.
“I am so sorry,” he choked out, hazel eyes glowing with unshed tears in the dim light, “I failed you.” Your heart cleaved in two at his statement, shaking your head vigorously as you fought to keep your own emotions in check.
“Azriel, you didn’t fail me. I am the one who left, who makes things difficult...” you swallowed at those words, shame overwhelming at the thought of holding back your mate, your Court.
Panic was etched across Azriel’s features as he reached for your chains, regret and love flowing through the bond. “No,” he ground out, “that is not what I meant.” His forehead rested against yours, slick with sweat as the shackles broke free.
A scarred hand found your cheek, the outside world ceasing to exist as Azriel’s gaze focused on you. “I am a fool,” he murmured. “I meant to say that missions with you are difficult because you are all that I can focus on, you are all that I care about. I am the burden, because I would throw away any mission, any Court, any world to keep you safe.”
His throat worked, voice thick as his lashes wetted with tears. “And yet I still failed you, still nearly lost you because of my own inability-“
Arms wrapping around him, you ignored your wrists, sore from the shackles, in favor of twining your hands at the nape of your mate’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Love and admiration flowed both ways through your connection, and despite everything, you couldn’t fight the smile you offered Azriel.
“You are not, and have never been a failure, Azriel. You are my love, my perfect mate, and I should have stayed to communicate instead of trying to prove myself to the one person who I know I don’t have anything to prove to.”
Azriel nodded, a beautiful smile stretching across his lips as he lifted you into his arms. “You are perfect. And I am sorry that I ever let you forget it,” he whispered, sweeping you into a pool of shadows as he transported you out of the dungeons.
Once more you were surrounded by the crisp air of the Autumn Forest, the moonlight shining down on the babbling brook as you walked hand-in-hand with your mate. “We still have to find the book,” you noted, bumping Azriel’s shoulder in playful reminder.
He laughed softly, hand reaching into the side pocket of his leathers to pull out a small leather-bound journal, waving it in the air. “Found it just as I heard the Autumn soldiers,” he grimaced, eyes shuttering at the memory.
Your hand found his arm, giving a reassuring squeeze as you leaned your head against him, quiet comfort settling over the two of you.
“Let’s head home, then,” you whispered. “I could use a warm bath.” You felt Azriel’s lips press against your hair, strong arms scooping you up effortlessly.
Azriel’s warm breath tickled your neck, shadows dancing as the Autumn Court began to fade around you, darkness swallowing the landscape. “As long as I get to be there with you.”
#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#azriel#azriel x reader#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfic#acotar fic#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#acotar reader fic#acotar azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel x you#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x y/n#azriel angst#acotar azriel x reader#azriel x reader angst#acotar angst#acotar x you#azriel acotar x reader#acotar reader imagine#acotar eris#eris vanserra#eris acotar#acotar series#acotar x y/n
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❤ Yandere Firefighter ❤
Credit for the amazing pictures goes to: @d-lioncourt (thank you so much for doing them)
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female reader
WARNINGS: Manipulation; Memory Loss.
Special credit to @deceitfuldevout cause she's the one that came up with the idea, thank you!
--
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who jumps right into rescue when your building has a major fire on a Saturday night.
He doesn’t even hesitate before jumping into action, running inside the apartment complex, ready to save everyone. Control the damage. Be a hero. Save lives.
It’s his job, after all, right?
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who ends up saving what might be the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life - yes, you.
Your hair is ruffled and your face is tinged with tears and black smoke, but his heart stops positively for a moment when his eyes land on you.
You’re passed out on the floor and for a moment, all of his world stopped and everything made sense.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who doesn’t understand what’s happening. Never had he been one to believe in love at first sight, not him.
He was the one that steered far away from cheesy foolish things such as commitment and marriage - casual hookups were more his style.
But meeting you changed things. He experienced what he never thought would happen to him.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter that fights tooth and nail to be by your side when the paramedics step in to take care of you. You’re passed out, having inhaled too much smoke but they assure him that you’ll be fine.
But still he doesn’t relax, unable to take his eyes off you. You look peaceful while sleeping, a comforting aura around you as you travel in the realm of dreams.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who comes to visit you at the hospital, claiming the plastic chair next to your bed as he waits for you to regain consciousness.
When the nurses ask him who he is, he shrugs off his shoulder, muttering something unsure and shaky that sounds a lot like ‘boy friend’.
Doctors say that might take a day or two, that you probably gained a concussion from when you passed out and hit your head on the floor. In the meanwhile he does some research, he’s got some connections in the local PD and uses it to do some much-needed research on you.
You’re originally from another country, recently having emigrated for work. You’ve got no family alive. Not much of a record in the police files. You’re low-profile, having a small job as a waitress in a restaurant near your apartment.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter whose mind drifts to the worst scenarios as he impatiently waits for you to finally wake up. How will you react to seeing him?
Will you feel the same ardent and powerful emotion that has him completely enamored to you? Will you accept him or his feelings?
His insides are dancing with anxiety and apprehension at what will happen next and he crosses his fingers in a silent prayer for you to love him back.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who is borderline starstruck when you groggily start opening your eyes, feeling himself falling in love with you all over again.
He calls the doctors and then panic is installed in the room.
You can’t seem to remember who you are, what your name is. Nothing at all. Doctors try to comfort you, explaining it’s normal.
You just suffered a concussion. It happens. Your memory will come back one day - tomorrow or in two decades, the doctors aren’t sure of that.
And then, you look at him for the first time, acknowledging his presence. Butterflies erupt wildly in his belly as you give him your attention, confusedly looking at him.
He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.
But he still does. The answer is unconsciously on the tip of his tongue, just ready to be spilled as you question who he is.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who shamelessly lies about being your boyfriend, the answer coming firm and steady.
He feels guilty for doing this, but isn’t this a great chance? It’s destiny, telling him that maybe he doesn’t need to spend months - or even years - courting you.
So he takes the chance, creating a beautiful love story where you’re dating him. That you’re practically engaged.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who tells himself that this isn’t lying. It’s just…forcing the circumstances a bit. All the indecision and fear is resolved when you accept his answer, not throwing a thousand questions his way - questions he doesn’t have answers to.
No, you’re calm, almost passive about it. You don’t cry in frustration of losing all your memories, accepting the short answers he gives to appease you, making up some of them.
He sighs in relief at how docile and sweet you are.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who kisses your knuckles, promising that you and him - together - will make new memories. The ones that will last for the rest of your life.
Promises to keep you safe and sound. To marry you. To love you. To cherish you. To treat you like the precious diamond you are.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who finally takes you to his apartment - your new home.
He doesn’t lie about what happened, saying that you were almost at the point of moving in together when your apartment burned.
Hence why your clothes aren’t in the wardrobe, but promises you can use his until he takes you shopping.
Immediately falls in love with how cute you look with his oversized hoodie on, despite the slight uncomfortable expression on your face. Almost makes him want to keep you forever in his clothes.
◾ Yandere!Firefighter who induces you into taking upon the domestic chores. Keeping your mind and body busy - hopefully that’ll help keeping old memories away. Memories where he doesn’t exist.
He never thought he’d be one to enjoy coming home to a freshly cleaned apartment, a meal ready to be served and a pretty girl waiting for his arrival but he loves it.
He kisses you softly every time he arrives from work, making sure he doesn’t smell like smoke - doesn’t want the smell to trigger something in you - hugging you tightly before you pull away.
You’re always reluctant when it comes to PDA, as if your subconscious knows there’s something wrong even if you don’t voice those thoughts.
But with time, he hopes to convince you to do more than just a few rushed shallow kisses and awkward cuddles where you pull away after five seconds. He says it’s okay, being understanding of your reactions but the fact is that he’s aching for you.
He wants you so bad that he has to rub one off every night, hidden in the bathroom cause sleeping in the same bed as you is so fucking tempting.
Maybe once you’re finally married, he can convince you to accept him - all of him. Soon enough, he’s on one knee, presenting you a ring that he immediately slides on even if you didn’t answer.
You’re his and that’s all that matters.
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#yandere x you#yandere x reader#tw: yandere#yandere concept#female reader#yandere headcanons#yandere oc x reader#yandere x darling#yandere imagines
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Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.
Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.
Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.
If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).
That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.
As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.
Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.
Enjoy!
A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!
The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.
Word Count: 1,752
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Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.
There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.
Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.
Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.
Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.
The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.
Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.
It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.
The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.
"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"
It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.
"I am everything."
They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.
"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"
The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.
"It is the truth."
A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.
"Yeah, alright."
"Who are you?"
"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"
The demon shrugged.
"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."
"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."
Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.
He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.
"I told you."
"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"
The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.
"So, you let me catch you."
"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."
"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."
The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.
"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.
Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.
"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."
He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.
They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.
"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."
"And you are?"
"No."
"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.
"Far from it. I don't like being seen."
"But you're letting me see you."
"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."
Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.
"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."
"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."
Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.
"I have power enough."
"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"
"Are you suggesting a deal?"
The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.
"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."
"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.
"Not on purpose but I supose so."
The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.
"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."
"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."
A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.
"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."
Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.
"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."
"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."
"Are you trying to intimidate me?"
"Not at all."
The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.
"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."
"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.
He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.
"We all take what we are given."
"I suppose."
Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.
"If you will be the face, I will be the force."
"No soul binding."
"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."
Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.
"Not an overlord yet."
----
tags:
@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0
#hazbin hotel#x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x gn!reader#gn reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral pronouns#they/them reader#alastor x reader#the radio demon x reader#hazbin hotel x y/n#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x gn reader
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“Don’t be nervous markie. I would never hurt you or do anything that you don’t like.” You say in a comforting tone as you hover over your boyfriends cock. You try to be as assuring as you can considering Mark is a virgin.
Losing his virginity is a very big deal for him and you feel honored that he trusts you enough to go through this with him. Mark is such a person pleaser and you know he struggles with communicating his needs and wants.
You’re here to change that though. This experience is all about him and you plan on making it unforgettable.
“You want this right mark?” You ask.
He nods his head but that’s not enough for you. You need him to be positive and confident in his decisions.
“I need words baby.” You continue.
“I-i want this. Just a little nervous t-that’s all” He says in a shaky jumble of words. His chest is rising rapidly and sweat is starting to form on his hair line. This won’t do.
You scoop two fingers under his chin and tilt his head up so that he has no other choice but to look you in the eye. Then you lean your head in to the point where you can feel his breath fanning over your mouth. The tips of your noses touching.
“You want this right?” You say. More firm this time.
“Yes”. He responds quickly.
“You want this because you want to feel good. I know you like to feel good baby.” You pause leaning into his ear to whisper. You can hear his breath hitch.
“Always making everyone else feel good but never yourself. All i’ve ever wanted was to make it about you.” You continue. Placing open mouthed kisses to the side of his face causing his body to slightly jerk. You separate your lips from his cheek and move your head to whisper in his other ear.
“I promise it’ll feel good. I’ll make it nice and special just for you. You deserve it all markie.”
And before he’s able to answer, you sink down on his cock. You lift yourself up planting two hands on his chest. Monitoring his face closely checking for any signs of discomfort. He lays there with his mouth agape. Taking a slow deep breath before he begins to breathe erratically. His eyes roll back a little before they refocus on your face.
You try to lift yourself just a bit but two hands planting your hips down prevents you from doing so.
“W-wait , fuck please just w-wait. I-i think i’m gonna c-cum already fuck” He says in a panicked manner as he stares at the ceiling slightly zoned out.
"It's okay baby , whenever you're ready." With that you continue your motions. Bouncing up and down in a slow pace. Mark's moans turn from mewls and whimpers into choked gurgles. You could see tears start to form along his water line. A small line of drool dribbles down his cheek as he continues to have his mouth open.
You could feel him throbbing inside of you. His abdomen contracting in harsh patterns. His thighs were constantly flexing themselves. He was really close. He wasn't able to form a coherent word in his mind. All he could feel was an earth shattering pleasure he has never felt before.
Leaning down while continuing your up and down movements , Your mouth latches to one of his hardened nipples. Carefully sucking the bud in your mouth and running your tongue around it in circular patterns.
While you use your mouth on him you bring your other hand up to pinch the opposite nipple.
The combination of you bouncing on his cock and his nipples being stimulated sends him over the edge.
It begins with a completely stiffened body. On the outside it looks like his entire body had caught a bad cramp from how stiff he was. All you could hear was gurgled noises. As if he was choking on his own saliva. His eyes went completely cross eyed. In his world everything stopped.
His ears were ringing. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest. The feeling in his stomach was so intense that he stopped breathing for a second. Everything was all too much at once , and before he knew it his world went black.
When he regains his conscious he opens his eyes. Staring at the ceiling for a bit before turning his head. There you were sitting beside him softly caressing your hands through his messy hair. Before he had a chance to ask any questions, you spoke up.
"Hi" You say in a light hearted tone. Cheeky smile planted across your face going from ear to ear. Voice as smooth as honey.
"Hey." He replies with a sluggish smile painted across his face. He is so in love.
#sub!kpop#sub!idol#sub!nct#mark smut#mark lee smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#nct dream smut#sub!mark#dom!reader#mark x reader#mark x y/n#virgin!mark#experienced!reader
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