greenandsorrow - Tumblr blog

greenandsorrow · 4 days ago

Text

the price for misbehaving (iii)

Alastor x gn!reader in heat

WARNINGS; explicit content, deer/doe!demon!reader with fem anatomy, needy!reader, soft-dom!Alastor, ovulation talk, horniness & hormones, breeding kink, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, cunningulus, penetrative sex, angst, comfort, fluff, wholesomeness, friends to lovers, smut with emotion, finding your forever mate, don't forget to use protection irl my loves

Dividers by; @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either 🧡

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! And the patience. This is literally Part 1 but with the roles reversed. I hope you enjoy it and I promise that the finale won't take too long!

For additional rut smut, check this out!

~masterpost~

After your first kiss, life went back to normal -well, for a month or so.

Friendly bickering, long conversations about everything and nothing, his unnerving yet strangely comforting presence always in reach...

Despite that normalcy, you realized Alastor's rut shook your quiet and uneventful life in an irreversible way. His musth has done more than leave you breathless... It has awakened something primal in you, too.

The fever hit you slowly. In the beginning, it was an ache in your limbs, a strange warmth in your chest, a restlessness in your thoughts. You blamed the sudden activeness of your sexual life during his rut.

But by the time your heat fully bloomed, there was no mistaking it.

The first wave came in the middle of an idle day, leaving you gripping the counter of the hotel's kitchen -a surge of warmth low in your belly and cramps in your bust.

A strangled laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"Oh, this is just perfect~" you muttered, rubbing at the base of your antlers, trying to get rid of the sudden itch.

It was no use.

The itch persisted.

That smug bastard would love to know he had dragged you into this.

When Alastor arrived later, on that same evening, his tailored suit as sharp as ever and his grin sharper, you were already a bundle of nerves and hormones. His energy filled the room like crackling fire and the scent of him sent heat and moisture pooling between your thighs.

You crossed your arms, determined to ignore your physical reactions.

"You look flushed" Alastor commented, cocking his head inquisitively, crimson eyes glinting with slight amusement.

"Gee, I wonder why" you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe it's because someone's rut threw me into heat."

Alastor blinked, the teasing grin faltering just slightly. Then it returned, wider than before.

"Oh, my dear deer, I had no idea I had such an effect on you!"

"Don't flatter yourself~" you snapped, though your body betrayed you, leaning in.

He stepped closer, his long fingers brushing against your jawline.

"You're in heat..." he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. "...and you came to me?"

"I didn't just 'come to you'" you grumbled. "You're always here."

"Hmm" he mused, his gaze flicking to your slightly grown antlers. "It still is deer mating season, isn't it? Fascinating how instinct takes over."

You were at his radio tower, sitting on the little sofa he had fit in there. It was supposed to be a chill night, with you reading while he did his own thing. Despite the 'chill' part, as the night progressed, the tension between you became unbearable. Your mating instincts were undeniable -the flicks of your little tail, the darkened hue of your eyes, the way your antlers gleamed under the dim light.

"You're ovulating" Alastor said at some point, his tone both matter of factly and dangerously hungry.

"Don't say it like that..." you protested, face burning.

"But it's true" he retorted, leaning down, his sharp teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "And you smell divine."

Indeed.

Something had changed.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was charged, humming with unspoken words. When he stood close to you again, you found yourself leaning into his space without even realizing it, drawn to the comforting, masculine warmth he offered.

And he let you.

Alastor Hartfelt -who once kept everyone at arm's length with his theatrical charm- has softened in ways you don't fully understand, nor anticipated. He lingers longer after your conversations and he smiles more -not the razor-sharp grin he uses for the world's eyes, but something more sincere, almost fond.

"Are you just going to stare, or are you planning on saying something?" you ask petulantly, trying to keep your voice light despite the strange heat creeping up your neck.

It's late in the afternoon.

"I find your company... pleasant" he simply answers, making your stomach flutter.

This is the closest thing to an admission you've ever gotten from him ...and it's enough, for now. See, you have been pestering him the whole day to tell Rosie about you and him, and when he stopped giving you attention, you had started crying in frustration.

It's true, your friendship has begun to shift into something more. It's not just the hormones that make you crave his touch... It's the way he treats you and it's also the way he makes you feel deep inside your condemned soul.

You remember the way he had looked at you during his rut -wildly, ravenously, yet with restraint, as if the mere idea of hurting you was repulsive to him. Even now, with your body betraying you, you know he'd never take more than you're willing to give.

The whole trust thing is what makes this so so maddening. It's intimate in ways neither of you is familiar with.

"Are you always this quiet during mating season?" he addresses you playfully, breaking the silence as you pace your small bedroom back and forth -trying to burn off the restless energy coursing through you.

"Only when someone else's rut has completely broken my biological clock" you shoot back, throwing him a glare over your shoulder.

His laugh is rich and warm, a sound that -to your dismay- sends shivers down your spine.

"You're welcome."

"Oh, you think you're so funny!" you exclaim, frustrated, but the corners of your lips betray you, twitching into a reluctant smile.

"Amusing enough to not kick me out, it seems."

This whole ordeal has to be one of the rare occasions where Alastor isn't trying to show off -when it comes to actions, because this man has an unstoppable flare when it comes to words.

And it starts out small, so small you almost don't notice it.

The radio demon isn't exactly a coddling or hovering guy, but after his rut, he begins stepping in. He pulls out your chair before you sit, hands you things before you can ask and walks you everywhere, even when you insist you don't need any company.

When your heat starts creeping in, it's not just his presence that comforts you -it is the way he seems to know, instinctively, what you need.

As the "heat wave" progresses, he becomes more and more protective -proactive as well.

Alastor is always watching, always listening. A step ahead of you at every turn. He hands you a glass of water before you realize how dry your throat is, pulls the curtains closed when the sunlight feels too harsh to your easily overstimulated system.

"Eat" he commands one evening, setting a plate in front of you without the usual fanfare.

His tone is brisk, but his eyes linger on yours, soft and unreadable.

"I'm not hungry" you whine softly, crossing your arms.

"You'll need your strength" he explains, unbothered by your defiance.

His insistence would've been annoying if it weren't so... sweet.

He doesn't push further, just stays nearby, humming an old tune as you reluctantly take a bite.

It only gets worse from here.

Every sound is amplified to the point of distraction and most smells make you dizzy and fussy.

Now, you are pacing around all the time.

Alastor stays silent during those restless times, watching you with a focus that would unnerve any other sinner. However, all it makes you feel is frustration.

"Stop staring! You're always doing that and I'm sick of it, Al!" you lash out, rubbing at your temples.

"You, stop fidgeting and moving" he retorts.

"Excuse me?! What- what do you want me to do? Sit still and burn alive?"

His grin softens, replaced by something calmer and more serious.

"You're not alone in this."

The words shouldn't mean as much as they do, but they hit something deep in you. Alastor -your oldest friend- is here, grounding you when your own body betrays you.

"You don't owe me anything, if that's why you've stuck around after... you know what." you say, pacing the room for what must be the fifth time this evening.

When you stumble, knees buckling from the ache between your thighs, he catches you before you hit the floor. His hands are firm yet cautious, holding you like you might shatter.

"Careful" he says softly, his crimson eyes meeting yours. "I've got you."

His antlers brush against yours as he guides you to your single bed, the accidental contact sending a shiver down your spine. His scent fills your senses -practically intoxicating you- and you start rubbing against him, unconsciously.

"Alastor? ...why are you being so nice to me?" you mutter, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Because I care" he replies simply -and for once, there is no teasing in his voice.

"You're hovering a little too much these days" you grumble weakly.

He doesn't flinch. "I'm making myself useful."

His calmness infuriates you, mostly because he's right. Everything he does is perfectly timed, perfectly measured -and it leaves you feeling raw and exposed. It's like he can see every vulnerable part of you, laid bare without your permission.

You're being driven insane by the constant heat and ache, the gnawing need that you are aware you can't satisfy on your own.

And Alastor's constant presence doesn't help your raging progesterone. (I'm sorry)

"I don't like you treating me like I'm about to fall apart~"

He tilts his head, antlers catching the soft light as he studies your frame in his arms. "You're not yourself right now. Someone has to keep an eye on you."

You huff, face hot, hands curling into fists. "I'm fine, Alastor. I'm not some delicate flower that needs-"

"You almost fell. Clearly, you're perfectly fine..." he says, his tone laced with dry amusement.

You huff at that.

You want to snap at him again, to push him away, to hit him even, but his scent is everywhere -woody and sweet, warm and grounding. It clouds your mind, the primal part of you drawn to him despite your pride.

"Let go" you say under your breath, the words lacking conviction.

"I don't think I will."

Alastor's grip is strong, but not uncomfortable, his thumbs brushing over your arms in a way that makes your breath hitch.

"Not when you're like this."

You swallow hard, caught between the familiar frustration and the embarrassing comfort his touch brings. The heat pooling low in your belly grows with every brush of his fingers and you hate how you want more.

"Like what?!" you eventually snap again, though your voice wavers.

"Overheating? Aching? On the verge of snapping at me for simply breathing in your direction?"

His tone is light and teasing, but there's an edge of knowing behind it and it makes you freeze. Makes you remember the state he was in only a few weeks ago.

Your silence betrays you and his grin widens, smug and victorious.

"That's what I thought."

You glare at him, still resisting his soothing touches. "I'm not some helpless little fawn, Alastor."

"No, you're not" he agrees, eyes gleaming.

"You're stubborn, snippy, and-" his gaze drifts over you and his voice drops. "...painfully uncomfortable."

The honesty in his tone catches you off guard and before you can argue AGAIN, he presses a steady hand on your shoulder, guiding you to lay down.

"Humor me. Just this once, y/n."

Reluctantly, you comply, but not without crossing your arms over your chest.

"Fine. But this doesn't mean I need you."

"Of course not" he says with a smile that borders on condescending.

You open your mouth to retort once more, but the words die in your throat when Alastor's palms land on your shoulders.

His warmth seeps through your shirt and when he starts to knead the tension there, a low moan escapes from you.

"Goodness" he teases, his thumbs working into a particularly tight knot. "Is this where all your attitude is hiding?"

"Shut up" you mutter, while unabashedly rolling so you're laying on your stomach, giving him better access.

His touch is phenomenal, long fingers tracing over the muscles of your neck and shoulders with a precision that makes you shiver all over.

It feels too good -too intimate- but you can't bring yourself to pull away.

"Your antlers must be killing you" he observes after a long moment of silence, his hands drifting up to brush the base of them.

The sensation sends a spark between your thighs and you have to swallow a grunt to appear composed.

"They're doing fine" you lie, but the way you perk your head up and toward his touch betrays you.

"Mantè" he murmurs, his voice low and amused.

"I'm not lying!" you whine and he shushes you with a cheeky look.

You sit up a little, petulantly.

When his touch moves to the space between your antlers, you let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

He stills, his sharp grin fading as his eyes meet yours.

"Ah" he says softly, his tone more curious than mocking. "Sensitive, aren't we?"

"Don't~" you warn, but it comes out weak and breathless.

"Don't what?"

His fingers start to move again -slowly and deliberately- and your body betrays you completely. A whimper escapes your lips this time and his smile turns wicked.

"Don't do this?"

You don't answer, biting your lip to stifle another sound, but he hears it anyway.

"You're tense everywhere" he taunts, his hands sliding down to your shoulders again. "Let me help."

Your heart pounds in your chest as his hands drift lower, skimming your sides, his touch intent but not quite crossing any lines. Yet.

"Alastor" you breathe, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.

"Yes, my dear?" he replies in a velvet-smooth voice, but there's a flicker of something darker in his gaze now. Something primal.

"Is this-"

You pause, swallowing hard.

"Is this a bad idea?"

His grin softens and now there's no teasing in his voice. "Not if you want it."

"Just- just rub my back a little more."

"As you wish, my dear~"

Soon, the tension reaches a breaking point.

You pull away from his hands abruptly.

Your antlers scrape the bed's headboard, a dull throb blooming at their base -and it's the last straw.

"Enough!" you half-shout and half-whine, voice cracking in despair. "I can't- I can't take this anymore!"

Alastor's eyes widen as he watches you start pacing around once more, but this time with your hands tagging at your hair.

"It's too much!" you continue, your voice rising with every word. "Everything hurts, everything burns! And I feel like I'm crawling out of my own skin! And you-"

You whirl to face him, your vision blurring at the edges. "You're not helping me at all! You're just- just there! Smiling and being smug and-"

Your words break off into a choked sob and before you can stop yourself, the tears come. You press your palms to your face, trying to stifle the sounds, but it's impossible.

The silence stretches, heavy.

Then, there's movement -soft and careful. Alastor approaches slowly, his usual energy toned down.

"Darling…" he speaks softly, his voice stripped of its previous amusement.

"Don't- Not again~" you start as well, your words muffled behind your trembling hands.

But when his arms come around you, warm and steady and so secure, you don't push him away.

He holds you without a word, his chin resting on your shoulder as you shake against him.

"I didn't realize" he explains, regretful. "I thought teasing would help distract you, not… make you cry."

You shake your head, your tears soaking into his shirt.

"It's not your fault" you manage, though the words feel hollow.

He pulls back just enough to meet your watery eyes, his hands cupping your face with surprising gentleness.

"Let's do it right, hm? No games. No teasing. Just… let me take care of you, just like you took care of me when I needed you most. How does that sound to my dearest deer?"

Something in his tone breaks through the overwhelming haze of lust you're currently experiencing.

You nod -a small, shaky movement.

"Good."

He guides you back onto the bed, his movements unhurried this time. As your back meets the mattress, he slips his arms under your knees, his long fingers trailing up your oversensitive thighs, making your breath hitch.

"Relax" he says, his voice soothing. "I only want to help."

You nod again, your body trembling as his hands slip beneath the waistband of your PJ shorts, pulling them down with care.

His crimson gaze flicks up to meet yours -checking- and when you don't stop him, he leans in.

The first touch of his tongue is toe curling -to say the least- and you gasp loudly, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your core... and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips.

"Just like that" he praises, his voice muffled against your wetness, and he gets to work -tongue moving in slow, measured strokes.

Your head falls back against one pillow, your breathing ragged as the tension in your body finally starts to unravel. Alastor's hands grip your thighs, holding you steady and open for him.

When you glance down, the sight of him -his sharp antlers gently scratching your abdomen and thighs, his bright eyes half-lidded and focused on your sex- sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

"Alastor" you moan, your voice trembling uncontrollably.

He pulls back just enough to smirk up at you, though it's softer than before. "Yes, my dear?"

"Don't you dare stop" you whisper and his smile fades into something more tender and loving.

"Never" he promises, diving back in.

When you finally fall apart, your body shaking with the force of it, he doesn't move away an inch. He stays with you, his touch grounding, his lips pressing soft kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs and belly.

When you come down and while your body is still writhing, he rises, his hands now sliding under your arms to pull you up gently. He sits back, guiding you to straddle his lap.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, your hands resting on his chest. "I… I need more" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Something flickers in his gaze -desire, longing, maybe even excitement.

"I'm at your disposal."

He lifts you effortlessly, shifting you beneath him as he leans over, his body caging yours -without pressing down.

His antlers brush yours, the contact sending shivers through your whole body and it feels all tingly, and then his lips meet yours in a kiss that's surprisingly tender.

The moment he pushes into you, slow and careful, your breath catches. He stills, his forehead resting against yours.

A deep ache blooms where you've been craving him most. You can feel every ridge and every vein, the way his length stretches you, filling you completely. It's overwhelming in the best way.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, his voice barely audible.

"Yes" you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Please, Al~"

"I had missed feeling you around me."

Neither of you expected this choice of words from him. If anything, it's what a couple...-

He doesn't wait for you to answer though.

Alastor begins to move, his pace measured, his hands cradling your hips as if you might break without the support. But there's an intensity in his gaze, a primal hunger that simmers just beneath the surface.

Missionary should never be underestimated. The eye contact, the emotional closeness, the way you can easily bring him down for a kiss, or run your fingers through his hair -that's starting to curl from all the sweat- make the experience so fulfilling to you frayed nerves.

Alastor keeps his body aligned with yours as he presses his forehead to your own. The heat radiating off his skin feels almost suffocating, but it also grounds you in the moment.

"Too much?" he whispers, his voice steady despite the faint tremor of his breath.

His antlers gently bump into yours once more and the sweet intimacy of the gesture makes your chest tighten.

"No" you manage, though the word is barely coherent. "It's perfect."

He groans softly at that, his hips shifting slightly so he can go even deeper.

"You're stunning" he murmurs mid thrust, his fingers tracing the contours of your face, before slipping lower, back on your hip. "Do you know that?"

You don't answer -can't answer. His thrusts are slow, the kind of pace that forces you to feel everything. It's maddening, the way he pulls out so slowly, only to push back in with measured precision, the friction setting your nerves alight.

Your body responds instinctively, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the pressure building low in your belly.

"Alastor~"

"Y/n?"

His tone is still soft, but now edged with restraint, as though he's holding himself back.

"Faster" you plead, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Pretty please."

He hesitates, his crimson eyes searching yours, before his control slips. His hips snap forward -harder this time- and you cry out, your back arching off the mattress.

"That's it" he groans, his voice rougher now, the sharp tips of his antlers grazing yours with every thrust.

Your body trembles beneath him, more and more intensely, heat pooling tight in your core. The pleasure builds steadily, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, until it becomes almost unbearable.

"Alastor, I-"

Your words falter, your breath hitching as the tension in your belly coils even tighter, ready to snap -for the second time tonight.

His hand slides down, his thumb finding your swollen clit. The touch is feather-light at first, but when you whimper and whine, he applies more pressure, circling it in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me" he coaxes.

"Let go. I've got you, love."

The combination of his touch, his voice and what he just called you, the steady rhythm of his hips... It's all too much.

The tension snaps and your orgasm hits you hard, body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you time and time again. Your legs spasm around his waist, your head falling back as a cry tears from your lips. The sensation is sharp and all-consuming, your vision turns white.

"So good" he marvels while his hands remain on your hips, grounding you as you ride out the last waves of your climax. "You're breathtaking."

The aftershocks start to ripple through you. Despite your body feeling boneless, your chest is still heaving quite a lot.

Alastor doesn't stop moving, but his pace slows, his touches gentle and reverent.

When your vision returns, you see his gaze on you, filled with something soft and unspoken.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, his voice low, a hint of uncertainty breaking through his usual confidence.

You nod, a shaky smile appearing on your flushed face.

"More than alright" you whisper, your hands coming up to cup his face.

He smiles back at you, leaning down to press a deep kiss to your lips.

"I'm glad, because I need just a little more to~ You know..."

How he can fuck you all the way up to Heaven, but shy away when it comes to voicing the simplest of things will always be beyond you. Still, you're too satisfied and sated to bring it up and tease him right now.

You're actually so sated you barely register his orgasm.

When Alastor finally slows, his movements become languid, savoring the last few moments of connection.

He presses a kiss against your temple as he pulls out, carefully.

A deep warmth lingers in your core, a mix of his seed and your own juices slipping out, leaving you feeling full and entirely undone.

"Sleepy?"

"You have no idea."

Your lover's gaze gets fixed on where you're leaking onto the bed sheets and he doesn't try to hide his possessive and proud expression.

You let out a little noise as the slickness spreads, shifting uncomfortably.

"Sticky" you mutter, your voice still weak from the intensity of your release.

He chuckles, going back to amused, before leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

"I'll take care of it."

True to his word, he disappears briefly and returns with a warm, damp towel. He cleans you gently, murmuring soothing words each time you shiver from the sensation.

When he's finished, he wraps you in a soft blanket he finds on a nearby chair and gathers you into his arms -his antlers brushing yours in the tender gesture you both seem to love.

"You're safe" he whispers, cradling you close against his chest. "Alastor got you."

Your body melts into him and you let exhaustion overtake you, sighing contentedly.

"I hate you sometimes" you mumble sleepily, though the affection in your tone conveys the true meaning of your words.

He chuckles, his chest vibrating against you. "And yet, here you are, letting me hold you. How peculiar."

"Shut up" you grumble, burying your face in his chest.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the warmth.

Alastor is still wrapped around you, his long limbs tangled with yours, his breath heavy and steady against the crown of your head. The weight of his arm draped over your waist is comforting, his fingers twitching in utter relaxation.

But there's something else here -the ache, insistent, stirring as you shift against him and even more as you breathe in his natural scent. You bite your lip, trying to ignore it, but the moment you press your thighs together, a soft whimper escapes you.

Alastor stirs immediately, his crimson eyes fluttering open.

"Hmm? What's the matter, my dear?"

His voice is thick with sleep, but his focus sharpens as he takes in your flushed cheeks and the restless way you're shifting.

"Nothing" you reply dismissively, though the way your body arches slightly against his betrays you.

He raises an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"You're not very convincing" he coos, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. "Do you need something?"

You squirm under his gaze, your face heating up in both embarrassment and arousal.

"I woke up like this, okay?" you say defensively, frustrated tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

His teasing demeanor shifts instantly, replaced by a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

"Oh, my poor thing"

He brushes a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

Before you can protest, his hand slides lower, his fingers finding your bundle of nerves with practiced ease -that he gained from your times together.

He moves slowly, coaxing soft gasps and whimpers from you.

"You're such a sensitive thing when you're in heat" he murmurs, his voice laced with awe.

"So perfect."

His touch is gentle but insistent, building you up until you're trembling. When you finally climax, it's softer than the night before but no less intense, leaving you breathless and boneless in his arms.

Alastor holds you close as you recover, his lips pressing soft kisses along your forehead and temple.

"Better?" he asks, his voice earnest and soothing.

You nod, burying your face against his neck. "Much better."

He chuckles, running his fingers through your hair. "I'll have to be more mindful of how easily I can wear you out."

You smack his chest lightly, earning another laugh, before settling back into the comfortable silence. As the morning light filters through the room, you let yourself relax, feeling safe and cherished in his arms.

"Thank you" you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He tilts your chin up, his red eyes meeting yours.

"Always" he replies softly, his antlers brushing yours in that gesture, hour gesture, yours and his -and it makes your heart ache.

In this moment, you realize there is no going back.

This isn't just fleeting indulgence -it's the beginning of something far deeper, something that feels as primal and undeniable as the instincts that brought you together.

You're his and he's yours. Forever.

To be continued.

Support the writer! Your tips keep me motivated to write!! Thank you so much for the contribution! ✨ CLICKHERE (PayPal link)

🎁 This chapter is part of the nymph's daily gifts!!!

masterlist || hazbin masterlist 🧡

my lovely tag list; @stygianoir @aperfectidiot @lady-valtieri @what-0-life @clowncollegealum @whatinthepluto @dragonqueenfk @ajajajabdjsjx @ellie-x0xo @1rxsemary1 @ermmmwhattheflipguys @kimkimmm2411 @sukaretto-n @crowleysthings @ratskinsuit @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @ilikemyteawithmilk @dontevenknowwhyimhere @dennsfz @sirens-and-moonflowers @diffidentphantom @midorichoco @speedycoffeedelight @cinnamon-galaxies @kammsinn @chibistar45 @alastorthirsty @victias @mezzo-piano230 @shayshaymonyou @atlaloversblog @iheartalastor @mydickisjuicy @pinestwinssimp @littlebluefishtail @foggytimetravelqueen @fierydragonprincess @unadulteratedplant

366 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 7 days ago

Text

GIVE YOU WHAT YOU LIKE

🌑 nun!Alastor x fem!reader 🌑

You're tired of Al always being the dominant one in your twisted dynamic.

!¡!¡! explicit sexual content, roleplay, dirty talk, sub!Alastor, dom!reader, bodily fluids, edging, unprotected sex (they're fictional but you're not), Catholic themes, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, cliffhanger, it's a lil trashy

Author's note: Hi, hello! I hope the new year hasn't been too rough on you! This is my second nun!Alastor smut… Do I need help? Absolutely. (It's also one of the maaany sub!Alastor goodness to come! And yes, I'm talking about your reqs!) I like to believe Alastor would enjoy mocking Catholicism, given that's the religion forced onto the natives when his ancestors' land was colonized.

My fisrt nun Al fic: AN OBSCENE FAITH

The only logical solution for that spare room next to Alastor's quarters was to transform it into a chapel. You even went as far as telling Charlie it was because of your deep longing for redemption.

However, as you walk down the hallway leading to the makeshift chapel, you know tonight is going to be different. Different because you're not planning on begging for mercy from a habit-clad Alastor for a fourth time in a row.

You knock, knuckles grazing the carved wooden door.

Alastor opens it, immediately striking a prayer pose, but something is off -an uncharacteristic clumsiness in the way one hip sticks out, how he isn't standing at his full and remarkable height.

"Good evening, sinner."

With a lazy, mischievous grin that hardly matches his nun attire, he lets the habit slide slightly, revealing a glimpse of his endowment already straining against white undergarments. His words come out slurred, the usual radio effect barely present.

"Maybe this sinner deserves a special blessing…" His voice drops to a husky whisper.

"Oh, I think I do…" you answer coyly.

The dim light of the confessional booth you built together hides his face, but not the prominent bulge in his habit that presses against the wooden partition. The holes in the wood, creating intricate, ornate shapes, weren't chosen for the elegant look after all.

The tipsy demon can feel your presence on the other side, and he knows you can see his cock growing harder.

"My child…"

"Yes, respectful nun?"

His voice is muffled but urgent, vibrating against the partition.

"I sense a great deal of sin in you… Perhaps we should start with a thorough confession?"

He slowly lifts his dark habit, his large, thick member springing free and pressing against the thin wooden barrier. His warmth is evident even on your side.

"Tell me, my child… What sins have you been committing lately that would bring you here, to my humble confessional booth?"

His breath becomes heavier, the scent of musk faintly reaching your nostrils.

"Have you been touching yourself with impure thoughts? Perhaps… thinking lustily about holy figures such as myself?"

He presses his hardness firmly against the wood.

"Tell me."

"Oh, I've been a bad girl, sister."

His thick cock throbs at that, precum leaking onto the wood as he listens intently to your admission.

"A bad girl, you say? Well, in that case, you need a special kind of absolution, the kind only I can provide."

This is where the tables turn.

"But I have been way too bad this time. I don't think you could handle it."

Alastor grunts softly at your teasing, his hips bucking slightly, desperate for more friction.

"How bad exactly? Tell me, my sinful little lamb. What depraved acts have you been indulging in?"

You make a point of speaking close to his cock, your breath hitting the overheated flesh through the ornate openings of the wood.

"It's just that… I've been humping my pillow so much, sister."

He gasps sharply at the warm breath on his sensitive tip. The vibration of your voice sends shivers down his spine. How can he keep up the dominant act after all the wine he's drunk?

"Humping your pillow, you say? How… vigorous."

You lean closer to the opening. "Oh, yes. I've been riding it so hard."

If you leaned any closer, your lips would touch his cockhead. The small puffs of air dancing just millimeters away make him shudder.

"Riding hard, hmm? Like a little whore in heat?"

"So accurate, sister! Back arching, head thrown back, tits bouncing…"

At the end of your sentence, your lower lip grazes his dick. As it does, he lets out a strangled groan, his entire body tensing up. The contact is fleeting but enough to make him see stars. Thick precum leaks onto your side, coating your lips.

He's panting heavily now, making a sticky mess while trying to get his cock closer.

"You tease…"

You will break him.

"I'm not being a tease! I swear, I was riding it so hard."

He's too busy imagining it to answer immediately.

"You're acting all innocent now, but~"

"I am innocent… My pussy was aching. It was hurting real bad."

His hand fists against the partition.

"Hurting?! Aching?! From all the humping…? Or from wanting something more? Tell me, sinner, is your pussy getting all wet and swollen right now?"

"Funny for you to ask that, 'cause it's squelching."

He shudders at the thought of your juicy, squelching pussy. His precum leaks faster, creating a steady drip on your side. "Fff- I can almost hear it."

You reach down, collecting the slickness and wrapping your hand around his cock through the partition, using your wetness as lubricant.

Alastor practically convulses at the sensation of your moist hand.

"S-Stop… You'll make me… make me cum."

You love it when he gets all desperate.

"What did you say, devotee?"

He freezes, realizing his slip-up. He takes a calming breath, trying to sound normal.

"Just- just praying for your salvation, my dear."

He hopes he sounds convincing, even though his heart is racing and his cock is throbbing in your grasp. He bites his lower lip to muffle any sounds that might give him away.

His body trembles as he feels you stroking him through the thin barrier. He's painfully hard, already holding back.

"My pussy lips are so swollen, Al…"

A low whimper escapes him before he can stop it. He presses his forehead to the wood, imagining burying his face between your thighs, licking and sucking at your swollen, slick pussy.

"Shh, my child… Ah~"

You can hear his breathing becoming even heavier, ragged. Picturing you touching yourself -fingers slipping in and out...

"Are you… are you touching yourself right now?" His voice shakes. "In front of a nun?"

"Hush and listen to find out."

Alastor listens intently, his breathing hushed to hear the sinful, wet sounds of you playing with yourself.

A choked sound escapes him.

It's all so vulgar. So erotic.

When you finally press your warmth against his cock -like a makeshift glory hole- he loses all control.

Now he knows, without a doubt.

Tonight, he will be the one begging.

Your voice is all honey when you say "You're not the one who's going to cum first."

Alastor lets out a sharp gasp as you shift, pressing your soaking heat against the wooden opening, sliding against his cock.

He moans, unable to thrust, forced to endure as you use him exactly how you want -grinding, rubbing, pushing against his length until your pleasure mounts to an unbearable peak.

He whimpers, nails digging into the partition. He's forced to endure your pace. "Ohh- please… Please let me move…!"

His voice is wrecked, desperate. "Please- please, let me cum too…!"

But you will decide when. And only when you're satisfied first.

"No. You're going to stay just like that, nice and still. Like the good little plaything you are."

Your pleasure mounts, the friction sending shockwaves through you. Alastor is trembling, wrecked with need, his cock twitching helplessly against your drenched folds.

And then...

You moan, your climax crashing over you as you soak his shaft in your release.

Alastor is heaving, pleading, desperate. "Please- please…! M- my turn...!"

You smile lazily, satisfied, watching him writhe.

"Beg me properly, devotee."

And he does.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support your gal, any tip is appreciated. No amount is too small! 🖤 ~PayPal link~

🌑 My Hazbin Hotel masterlist

🌑 Dividers by @saradika-graphics

🌑 As with many -but not all- of my works, the title and the vibes are inspired by a song! I've loved Avril Lavigne ever since I was an emo 13-year-old, and I always will <3

Tag list; @stygianoir @aperfectidiot @lady-valtieri @what-0-life @clowncollegealum @whatinthepluto @dragonqueenfk @ajajajabdjsjx @ellie-x0xo @1rxsemary1 @ermmmwhattheflipguys @kimkimmm2411 @sukaretto-n @crowleysthings @ratskinsuit @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @ilikemyteawithmilk @dontevenknowwhyimhere @dennsfz @sirens-and-moonflowers @diffidentphantom @midorichoco @speedycoffeedelight @cinnamon-galaxies @kammsinn @chibistar45 @alastorthirsty @victias @mezzo-piano230 @shayshaymonyou @atlaloversblog @iheartalastor @mydickisjuicy @pinestwinssimp @littlebluefishtail @foggytimetravelqueen @fierydragonprincess @unadulteratedplant @cryssyd

67 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 7 days ago

Note

Hiya I was wondering if you could do a prompt where fem reader is in [as in actress] in all the slashers movies even if it's as a background character? How they would react to her?Have a nice day no worries if you don't get to it!

Author's note: Greetings, slasher community! This is my first work featuring our delicious psychos! Unless you count my platonic Pennywise multi chap (I know he's not technically a slasher, but still). Hopefully, I've covered most of them ♥️

Disclaimer (ig): I left Art the Clown out because, oddly enough, I haven't watched Terrifier yet -but trust me, once I do, I'm sure it'll turn into an unhealthy obsession. Accept my apologies for now.

Rating: Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface (in the vague sense), Leatherface, The Grabber, Pennywise (1990), Pennywise (2017), William Afton because he's an undead serial killer and because I can (book, game, movie, not Springtrap this time), +BONUS CHARACTER

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

The living room is silent except for the audio of Scream playing on the TV. You're lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching -until Michael, standing by the wall like a shadow, suddenly pauses the screen.

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Michael remains completely still as he observes the paused frame. A frame of you mid-sprint in the background of the classic horror movie, being chased by Ghostface. Anyone else would argue about whether that's really you, but Michael already knows. He's seen you move like this before. Maybe he's even chased you this way.

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

And there you are -blurry in the background of a trick-or-treating scene in some other horror media, dressed as a generic babysitter, chatting with another actress. It's barely a second of screen time.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

"Damn, you're good. Ever considered coming to MY movies?" He waggles his claws at you. "Bet I could give you some real nightmare material." He's joking. Mostly. But you might want to lock your bedroom door tonight.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He leans forward, taking in every detail. "You didn't tell me you were in Scream, getting killed by other Ghostfaces -or Halloween, or Friday the 13th, or literally every horror movie ever made.... Even in Child's Play?!"

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

The room is dimly lit, the glow of the TV flickering against the walls as A Nightmare on Elm Street plays. He turns to you, eyes glinting behind the sockets of his signature mask. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Look at that."

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Look at this guy. Thinks he's scary." He flicks a dismissive palm at the screen. "Ooooh, I'm tall! Ooooh, I drool all over myself! Ooooh, I wear frilly clown pants like I just crawled out of a Victorian nightmare!"

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

The moment he spots you in IT -in a grainy, VHS quality shot of Derry- his entire body stiffens. Then, his gloved fingers start twitching against his knees. His lips part in something between a sneer and a pout.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnervingly.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

Cold, calculating eyes track every movement you make, every scream, every desperate attempt to escape. The slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of amusement -well, that and the way his fingers tighten around his armrest just a little too hard.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

His pale eyes dilate as he watches you on his computer screen, just another background character in a slasher film. "You're terrified, aren't you?" His smirk grows. "And yet, you survived. Brave, little thing."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

Slender Man stands in the shadows, unmoving, unreadable. He has no eyes, no expression, no face -and yet, the pressure of his gaze coils around you like an unseen force. A protecting one, to your relief.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

Help me make my hardworking mom's birthday special! Every little contribution goes toward getting her a gift. Your kindness means the world to me and I truly appreciate your support! Thank you so much!!! CLICKHERE ♥️ (PayPal link)

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

114 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 11 days ago

Text

Unless.... Lavender marriage.

You decorate your house together, 'till it becomes a home.

His father becomes less oppressive now that Neil is a married man, with adult responsibilities, etc, etc, patriarchal etc.

Occasionally, he brings up wanting grandkids. However, Neil and you are both career driven.

You have no problem turning Mr.Perry down with a dismissive smile.

The possibilities are endless. If a kid ever makes it in the picture, you're happy knowing his/her dad and his/her godfather will love him/her with all they got.

You always help Neil rehearse his lines when he comes back with an audition or a role to prepare.

And while you have a master bedroom with a king sized bed or something, there's no rule you have to sleep together.

Sometimes you do.

When you do, it's more like a sleepover.

Sleepy poets society.

And Todd is more than welcome.

(he has his own set of keys)

Because let's be for real, he's the man we're talking about.

And you're free to bring your partner(s) over as well.

The other poets are also welcome.

Big, happy, found family.

Maybe one day, Neil and Todd won't have to hide.

But it's 1959 and luckily, it's not so bad having you as a roommate.

After all, you like poetry, beauty, you like romance, and you love with all your heart.

Neil Perry x Fem Reader

He leaves you for a man

#dead poets society #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #dead poets fandom #dps hcs #dps headcanons #dps #neil perry x reader #neil x todd

636 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 12 days ago

Text

Reblog if you write fan fiction

Doesn’t matter if you write in a frequent basis, or once in a blue moon, just how many of us are there?

165K notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 15 days ago

Text

Another day goes by I get closer to properly drawing a penis

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #not my art

67 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 17 days ago

Note

hi i earlier sent a request and didn’t see that requests were closed, i apologize for that!!! I don’t know if you can delete requests so again im sorry 😣

It's alright dear! Apology accepted 🩷

Other things are prioritised rn, unanswered reqs from when I had them open included. I won't delete yours, 'cause I liked it, but it'll probably take a while to get to it.

1 note · View note

greenandsorrow · 17 days ago

Note

♥️🔪

Rating: Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnervingly.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

114 notes · View notes

greenandsorrow · 17 days ago

Note

Rating: Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnervingly.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

114 notes · View notes