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nanami1chu · 10 days ago

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Black Antler Buck

This is absolute filth and I am not sorry.

Alastor X Doe! Reader. Rut fic. Word Count: 5K.

Absolutely no minors, Zero, zilch, na dah. I mean it, this is 18 + Adults only.

It always started as an itch.

Not in the metaphorical sense, it always started as a physical itch.

Alastor's skin would become hypersensitive to the point that any slight variation in cloth would cause his skin to itch. He had ripped out any tags present on his garments by the seams many many years ago. Yet every year his nerves always managed to find something. A raised stitch here. A pulled section of the weave there. A wayward thread.

Every year, without fail, he would find some ways to itch.

And that was only the beginning.

He hated the fall.

What was once one of his favorite times of the year became his season of torture. Memories of frightful masks and chilled air were replaced with hot skin and a boiling pot of lust read to spill over. Hell had two options, blistering heat or frozen wasteland. It was quickly on its way to the latter as Alastor made his way down the darkened street. The wind was cutting and cold would creep in to the bones of any uncovered fingertips. Yet Alastor was fine, the cold air felt rather pleasant on his heated skin.

The building and general crowd of the city began to fade as he made his way further and further into the outskirts. As the sidewalk ended it gave way to endless desert, which would become tundra as the cold progressed. Nothing. No building, no road, no person ahead as far as the eye could see. Or so it appeared at least.

Alastor allowed himself to slip into the shadows. Transporting himself to his destination in a matter of minutes. While it wasn't the flashiest of his powers, it was the most useful. The journey to his destination was at least a four-hour drive by car, supposing you didn't run into any trouble along the way. It would have been a full day of travel if you decided to walk there. How anybody else got there he had no clue, and that was by design. Anonymity was a key part of its existence after all.

Alastor manifested out of the shadows near a small collection of rocks. Completely innocuous to most anyone. Alastor checked the time on his watch before fastening up a black jacket over his clothes. He then pulled up its black hood over his head. Allowing the black mesh attached to the front to fall in front of his face before securing it to the jacket with the attached buttons. The hood was irritating on his ears, and the mesh was hot and hard to see through but it was mandatory dress code.

Now properly dressed Alastor knelt down to the rock, pressing a small custom coin onto a discoloration in the stone. The quiet click of a latch reached his ears as he lifted up the rocks. The hinge of the trap door was well oiled and silent as Alastor made his was down the stone stairs.

He wasn’t sure what triggered it this year. Normally he could handle his season. Or at the very least keep himself cooped up for the worst of it. But something about this year- probably stress from the hotel- drove him to near madness. He was sure he had worn down the finish on the floor from how much he paced in the night.

The stairs led down to a solid wall of stone. Another defense mechanism. Alastor found the crack in the stone and slid his coin through. It was clear this place was designed for animal sinners, considering it expected its guests to find their way to it with no light whatsoever.

Alastor waited for a few breathes, double checking the time in his mind again. He was at his assigned window of entry he was sure of it. Just as panic started to swell, the stone slid to the side, the low light of the room welcoming him as he stepped in. The lobby was empty, save for a singular woman who sat at the front desk. “The Watering Hole” was craved into the stone above her, lit with low warm fluorescent lights.

An establishment that catered to animal sinners seeking partners for their season. Completely anonymous and secure. Nobody outside of it knew about it and nobody inside of it talked about it. Alastor himself wasn’t even sure how he’d been selected to join. The coin and instructions written in code were slid under his door one day. Once he figured out the code and went to investigate, he had been stopped at the wall at the end of the stairs. A force unlike anything he had seen or felt before or since came over him and he woke up in a small room. A voice prattled off his information, aspects of his life that he swore only he knew. After being thoroughly intimidated he was made aware of the rules.

Everything is anonymous, unless an individual wishes to disclose their identity, which they do so at their own risk.

Everything is consensual.

And once you step out of the facility everything you heard, said or saw becomes something you didn’t hear, say or see.

Follow these rules to the letter or else, no exceptions bar one. Should something you do in these walls follow you out of them, the facility will contact you and handle the issue on a case-by-case basis.

For the longest time this vague clause in the rules confounded him.

If the whole point is anonymity what would follow you out? At first, he thought this may be for a stalker situation. Only recently-- in part thanks to the hotel's resident porn star-- that it occurred to him this probably referred to STD’s.

Perhaps it was a catch all sort of thing, giving the facility and whoever ran it, grounds to meddle if they felt so inclined.

All could be true or none could be, Alastor wasn’t particularly worried about it at the moment.

Right now, all he wanted was the fog in his head to dissipate and the hard on in his pants to go away.

Alastor waited for the receptionist to wave him forward before placing the coin on the desk and stepping back. The woman grabbed it and placed it on a small square plate that glowed once it was placed. She then reached under her desk, the sound of a drawer pulling open and files being sorted through drifting up. She reemerged with a thin file, opening it and flipping to the second of the two pages that were in it.

She grabbed the page and placed it under the desk once more, a thunk sound could be heard, like the sound for punching in and out of a workplace. The page was then set back at home in the folder and put back in its drawer. Her movements were crisp and meticulous like this was all she did every day.

Maybe that is what she did all day.

The stone was placed toward him once more, the woman leaned forward, pointing to a hall off to the side.

“Down this way, turn right at the second hallway, third door on the right.”

Alastor retrieved the coin once more, beginning to make his way down when he heard the receptionist speak once more.

“So are you gonna...” She made a vague gesture to the top of her head with both her hands. Alastor was confused a moment before getting the hint.

Alastor closed his eyes a moment, feeling the top of his head shift as he allowed his antlers to extend out from there compact structure to the full spread. The bone slid through the top of the hood like butter, splaying out to the 8 points they currently were. 2 more were sprouting towards the ends, soon he’d be a proper 10 points. Internally Alastor chuckled, knowing in his life he would have loved to bag a 10-point buck. The thick bases, normally cumbersome felt comforting and natural in his rut addled state, focusing his mind back to the task at hand.

“Well well” the receptionist muttered under her breath as he passed her to head down the hall.

The room for the cervides was cool, ambient rustling and chirping noises being pumped out from some unknown source. It was a little too ‘on the nose’ for you personally. Just because you’re a deer doesn’t mean that the meeting room had to be a damn forest. You supposed however, that maybe some of your fellow deer demons, or deermons as you jokingly called them, needed that atmosphere.

In any case you appreciated the temperature control.

Your heat this year was killing you.

It was so bad that you’d finally took the time to rummage around your dresser to find that stupid coin that let you into this place.

It was clear you were the strongest in the room so far, by a large margin. The second you had stepped in your scent had overpowered everything. Most of the other females flocked toward you. As you settled atop a large stone structure against a far wall, they all settled near you, awaiting your judgement on any approaching males.

And approach they did.

Strutting, calling, posing, running into each other and locking antlers.

All of them perfectly serviceable, but none of them were what you needed. This heat felt different. Normally your heats consisted of a throbbing ache in your core, paired with a sensitivity and skittishness that was annoying as hell. This time it felt like a pain from the top of your throat to the tip of your hooves. Every time your walls convulsed, begging to be filled, your chest would follow suit causing spasms. You’d fucked yourself thoroughly with every toy you owned before coming here, just so you could keep a level head.

But that was only a short-term solution. You needed a buck, one that could properly chase you, pin you and mount you. Your heat craving power and protection, you needed someone as strong or stronger than you. To quell this heat, you’d need a near bombshell of a buck, and the only adequate spread before you simply wouldn’t do.

Leaning back on the stone you relaxed, allowing your mind to drift as you waited for something worthwhile to walk through the door.

An enclosed path greeted him as Alastor walked into the instructed room. Tight and narrow, foliage crowding either side. He’d always appreciated the attention to detail this place had. He moved swiftly following the sound of clanking antlers to find where others may be.

The path branched out to a ‘clearing’ in the room. A wall supported a large mound of rocks and before it bucks were showboating. As Alastor stepped out into the clearing, he walked into a wall of scent. It was addicting, sweet, salty and rich like some combination of sweat drying on perfumed skin and old leather. Distinctly feminine, it made his palms sweat and his dick twitch. His spine now stick straight, his head swiveled to find the doe that was emitting such a rich aroma.

Paying closer attention to the center of the action, Alastor noticed that it was only bucks on the ground before him. All of them trying to win over females that weren’t there.

That was until he paid even closer attention. Following his nose, he moved closer, at first what he thought were shadows of the rock pile were actually the cloaked figures of does. Heads all turned to the action in front of them.

Yet strangely none of them moved.

Not a wave or sound, not a single inch of acknowledgment.

None of them were as great as him, but these bucks couldn’t be that bad, could they?

As he pondered the peculiar scene a nasty little scrap finished. A slightly smaller buck with blue antlers having successfully pushed his opponent aside, the other conceding defeat.

The head of the victor, and the heads of the does all lifted up to the top of the rock formation. Following their line-of-sight Alastor noticed a singular doe perched at the top. Casually reclined, her head tilted back to drive home the point that scene in front of here was completely uninteresting to her.

Ah, now Alastor saw what was going on here.

A pecking order had been established, and the lesser does were waiting for their leader at the top to pick her mate before they pursued theirs.

Their leader at the top who was most likely pumping out that devilishly pleasant perfume.

Well if it was a show she wanted.

The heat was cooking you from the inside out you were sure of it. You’re only comfort the cool stone beneath you, cutting through the fabric of your anonymous attire to provide its soothing chill to your heated skin.

Gods above why did this lot have to be so average.

All of the struts and battles were barely worth a passing glance.

Perhaps it would be better to go home at this point so at least the rest of your fellow does could get some.

A crack, like a strike of lightning rang out, sitting up you tried to locate the source. A buck with a thick sprawling black rack had just used said antlers to rip a limb, the width of your torso, off a tree.

You were glad you didn’t leave earlier.

He turned his head expectantly, waiting for one of the other bucks to challenge him. The previous victor began to charge, but he didn’t even get to lock onto him. All it took was one swipe of his head and the black antlered buck had thrown the other to the ground. He raised his head and squared his shoulder preparing for another challenger.

Two bucks, one on either side of him charged, apparently going for a team attack. The black antlered buck was too fast and clever for it though. He ran quickly toward one of them, locking antlers. Then with a mighty swipe he lifted one challenger and swung him into the other. The two crashing into a heap.

You’d seen all you needed to see. Your heat wouldn’t hold out much longer, and things were turning just a bit too violent for your tastes.

Perhaps he had been wrong about his earlier assessment.

Maybe these bucks truly were that bad. The second Alastor made his presence known, a majority of them stepped back, conceding then and there. And the three that had tried to fight him were pathetic. One with a blind charge and the other two with a cheap double team tactic.

No wonder the doe at the top was bored.

Peering up to see her reaction, only an empty spot at the top of the rocks greeted him instead.

Alastor felt his rage begin to stir. He took a deep breath in just before it could rise through and he was hit with that scent, infinitely stronger now. It made him want to buckle his knees and jump into the sky simultaneously. Sensing someone behind him, he turned quickly, expecting to face another challenger.

The doe from the top of the rocks greeted him instead. He had been correct before, that salacious scent was coming from her. It caused his heart to skip and his breath to hitch. Every instinct in his body begging him to grab her, puller her down and mount her right on the spot, but he quelled it just barely.

Her hand raised, and Alastor swore he almost heard the does behind him gasp in anticipation.

Her hand hovered just next to his face; in almost any other context Alastor would have assumed he was about to be slapped.

Maybe he was.

Mercy was on his side however as the doe’s hand moved down, tracing the outline of his arm without touching him. Diving down, down till it finally moved and grabbed his hand. Lifting it up, the doe then splayed her palm against his, seemingly comparing the size difference. Then she held his hand in her own once more and began to lead him along. Walking backwards for a few paces, slowly, giving him time to retreat if he so wished.

Fat chance.

Once it was clear he had made his choice, the doe turned forward, continuing to lead him to the path leading toward the exit.

The hall with the suites could only be described as plush. All red and brown and dark lacquered wood. Once they reached a room that was free, each deer moved to their respective door. Each suite at facility came with private rooms for either partners, each containing a small living area and bathroom. The room proper would have the bed, a fridge and other necessities both for living and for pleasure.

“So, how do we want to do this?” Alastor spoke before you could open your door, his voice was low and deep, hoarse from heavy breathing. He’d stopped himself from producing the radio static just before speaking. Reminding himself that this was all anonymous after all

“Heh” you let out a small laugh. “Normally I’d just advocate for dropping trou and getting down to it, but...” you walked over to the tall buck. Getting into his personal space, basking in the raw musk and power that was rippling off of him. He dwarfed you, and your pussy couldn’t help but clench at that fact.

“After that little display, I think i need every piece of you I can get. So, I say we turn off the lights, take off our clothes and you show me exactly what your made of.” The laugh he gave in response sank into your ribcage, bouncing around causing your heart to flutter.

“I couldn’t agree more” he replied.

You sauntered back to your door, hazarding on final glance at the thick antlered buck’s cloaked figure.

“I’ll meet you on the other side then.”

The bottom of the bed was rimmed in red lights. Far too dim to be of any use outside of marking where the bed was. Still, you were able to make out the faint silhouette of your buck’s sprawling rack in the dark. As your door closed, the silhouette turned to face where you were. Hooves met hardwood as he made his way toward you.

Your palms were splayed out in front of your naked torso so you could stop him before he bumped into you. The sudden shock of warm skin caused your shoulders to jitter. His hands met yours giving himself a reference point as he then moved higher and higher. Cradling your neck with one massive palm he squeezed slightly in warning before pulling you into him. His lips were plush, pillowy and soft as they crashed into yours. His other arm snaked around you, hand against your back so he could pull you even closer to him.

The kiss was a mess of passionate chaos, the two of you pushing into one another in a fervor. Your hands began to wander, mapping out his torso as his tongue pushed forward to map out your mouth.

He was thinner than you’d expected, his figure being helped greatly by his massive shoulders. As your hands wandered up to his head, mirroring him by splaying your hands on his neck he began to dip you backwards. The pleasant feeling of your thighs meeting his causing a small gasp to escape you.

He returned the noise with a pleased hum before moving his head down. Sharp canines bit at your neck before those plush lips attached themselves to the thin skin just under the base of your ear. Sucking and nibbling, your toes curled and chest convulsed at the sensation. Getting to hear in high definition the delicious noises he was making as he devoured your skin. The vibrations from the noise causing a shiver to run up your spine. Digging your nails into his shoulders, you desperately tried to ground yourself as he chuckled. Releasing your skin, he licked his way across your jawline before diving tongue first once again into your mouth.

You couldn’t help the moan that left you, the way his lips crashed into yours once more. You could taste the salt from your skin on his lips. He relented a moment, allowing you to breath before attacking the skin underneath your other ear.

Becoming jittery once more at the sensation you began moving a hand along his side. His ribs were prominent. You let your fingers ghost over them, feather light touches on the little hills and valleys. You swore you heard him laugh slightly before a sharp bite to your jaw caused you to grab his hip.

Your fingers found the divot there, allowing it to guide you lower and lower to your prize. Just as you began to feel curls of hair he spoke up.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” He asked, his voice somehow lower than before.

“This” you replied moving before he could stop you to grip the base of his cock. Just like his antlers, it was thick. A vein bulging out at the bottom. You followed it with the tip of a finger, reaching his uncut tip before following it back down. You could hear how ragged his breathing was becoming, his rut surely making him sensitive. You leaned your head into his neck, allowing him to feel the smirk on your face before you moved lower.

His balls were hot in your hands, heavy with seed as you began to squeeze and massage. Experimenting till you’d found just the right pressure, knowing you’d found it by the moan he let out, quickly followed by a growl.

“Watch it little doe” he warned.

“Or what? You gonna stop me? Buck?” you taunted. You knew challenging him, riling him up was a bad idea, but it was the only way you were going to get what you wanted.

What you needed.

The tension was palpable as neither of you moved. If you were going to back down now was your opportunity.

Fat chance.

To prove your point, you squeezed his sack once more at that exact pressure again, lips finding purchase on his chest as you sucked, surely leaving a deep hickey on him.

The growl he let out shot through you as in one swift motion he grabbed your ass and hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

Marching over to the bed he threw you down onto it, a hand reaching out and grabbing an ankle before you could get your bearings. The dim lights underneath allowed you to see more of his silhouette, though no real distinguishing features. Gripping your ankle tightly he wretched your leg out of the way, pushing it as far as it would comfortably go.

Then a swift sharp slap smacked against your pussy lips. An audible wet sound could be heard as he growled and smacked you again.

You hadn’t even realized how wet you were. The sting from his palm causing you to spill even more. In this moment you very appreciate that this wasn’t your own bed you were ruining.

As his massive palm gave your lips one last love tap, he kept his hand still. Using his outer two fingers to splay you out, your walls pulsed at the sensation of open air. Before it could become uncomfortable, he sank his two middle fingers into your pussy without warning. A sharp gasp ghosted out of your mouth. After feeling so empty, finally, finally warm thick skin was coming to fill you.

He wasted no time as he began to drive his digits in and out of your hole. The sounds in the room now a mix of wet, gasps from you and creaking as he leaned forward above you on the bed. An overture of sin, lust passion and desire. He began biting at your chest, pain blooming as he played with skin of your breasts in his mouth. Your clit switched in irritation, his hand angled away from it, and his torso blocking your arms so you could not take care of it yourself. The rhythmic pumping of his digits, in and out, forward back, filled and empty was driving you swiftly toward the edge.

You became restless underneath him, trying to wiggle and adjust yourself in such a way that you could get some friction on your poor neglected clit.

By the grace of the gods he got the message, a smug and amused chuckle spilling from him as he adjusted his thumb to press against your bud. Your heat addled brain turning to mush, making you convulse and jolt under him. Anything to get him closer, faster, deeper, all you wanted was just more of him. Finally, you reached your crescendo, walls clamping down on his digits in a vice like grip, that you knew would only get tighter with the heat. As pleasure surged through your body your back arched off the bed. A high pitched whine rattling out of your skull.

As you came down from your high, his hand did not stop. Overstimulation now poking at you, scratching the raw parts of your freshly orgasmed brain. You huffed at him to stop, kicked your legs out but he kept going.

Finally, you’d had enough, lunging forward you grabbed the black antlered buck by his shoulders and pulled him on top of you. Removing his hand from your depths to steady himself on the bed. Your grip shifted as you dragged clawlike nails, or nail like claws down his back, while you lifted up and began biting on his neck.

You need him to mount you and you needed him to do it now.

Locking your legs around him your rubbed yourself against him, wet arousal coating his hard on. He made no movements for a moment, small whimpers and moans leaving his lips as he took in the sensation. They almost sounded... staticky?

Your lips moved up to bite at his jaw and he seemed to snap out of his trance. Dipping down he lined himself up with your hole he pushed forward. Your previous orgasm and heat allowing him to enter with minimal resistance. His head neck to your, large antlers keeping you down, unless you wanted to lose an eye, he began shallow thrusts. Sighs let the both of you as your instincts were being satiated.

You felt hot and cold running up your back, dancing between your shoulder blades. Hands itching to roam you moved toward his ribs again. As you made contact, he stiffened, back rod straight. A low growl rumbled through his chest, he removed himself from your walls and lifted you. Pivoting so the pair of you were lengthwise on the bed.

On his knees between your legs once more, your felt hands grip your claves, lifting them out and up so eventually your ankles rested on his shoulders. As he entered you once more, he took a sharp breath in. Those massive hands grabbed your arms, his grip sturdy and sure. A warm comfort as your chosen mate for the season began brutally pounding into you.

Those strong muscled legs thrusting him forward, burying his cock deep into your core. While those lithe arms simultaneously pulled you back, impaling you on him, forcing his length to go even further into your channel.

The pace was constant and quick, the head of his member pushing over and over against the entrance of your womb.

You were redeemed and gone to heaven, or at least that’s what your heat was telling you. Bliss coursed through you as he grunted above you, cockhead bullying your cervix. HIs body rubbing against your button with each thrust. Long loud gasps and moans left you involuntarily. The room filled with moans from the pair of you, wet slapping and thrusting. The symphony grandiose and full.

You were much, much to far past the point of common decency to mute yourselves. If the people running this place didn’t think to soundproof the rooms, then that was on them.

You could feel your pleasure scaling once more, calling out to your mate.

“Fuck i.... Buck please...” You had no idea what you were crying out for.

“Doe” he gasped out to the air “let me fill you with fawns”

“Yes, Yes” You cried out, finally losing yourself to pleasure once more. A whine, bordering on a scream left you and your walls clamped down, milking the buck still thrusting into you.

“Ah, ah, fuck doe, take it take it.” He moaned above you, thrusts stuttering as a final choked moan left him and you could feel the hot release of his seed filling you. He let go of your arms, dropping forward and caging you under him as your both caught your breath.

As your breath steadied, sleep began tugging on the edge of your brain. Normally the idea of sleeping like this, sweaty, smelling of lust, covered in spit with seed dripping out of you would be gag inducing. But right now? Right now, you were a heat heavy deer, content for the time being, freshly mated, with your chosen buck next to you.

Right now, sleep seemed ideal.

The black antlered buck seemed to agree as covers moved under you, arms searching you out to drag you next to him.

Your heat would still be a few more days, as would his rut. But now that prospect didn’t seem as daunting.

Small breaths against your neck told you and your inner doe that now you were safe and now could sleep.

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nanami1chu · 16 days ago

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A Night Without Him

The hotel feels too quiet without him.

I know it isn’t really—Charlie’s laughter echoes from somewhere, Angel is probably stirring up trouble at the bar, and Husk grumbles every time someone orders something ridiculous—but none of it feels right. Not without Alastor’s voice cutting through it all, smooth and bright, a constant presence. It’s the first night in what feels like forever that he isn’t here, and the absence settles into my bones, leaving me restless.

I should be grateful for the freedom. He didn’t lock me in this time. I chose to stay. But without him, I can’t seem to do anything.

I try to get dressed for the evening, fingers ghosting over the outfits hanging neatly in my wardrobe. Normally, he’d pick something for me—a dress he loves, something that makes him grin and tell me how darling I look. My hands reach for the one he chooses most often, a familiar comfort, but then I freeze.

I shouldn’t put it on without his approval.

The realization leaves a hollow feeling in my chest. I let the fabric slip from my hands and sink down onto the edge of the bed instead, staring at nothing. I don’t know what to wear. I don’t know what to do.

Eventually, I drift through the halls, watching the way the Hotel hums with life. Everyone else seems fine without him. Why can’t I be?

By the time I find my way into his study, I feel too heavy to keep wandering. His chair is there, his scent lingering in the air, and I can’t help myself—I slip into it, curling my legs beneath me. I pull one of his spare coats from where it rests over the back, wrapping it around my shoulders like a shield, pressing my face into the fabric.

It still smells like him. Warm, rich, familiar.

I clutch it tighter, my fingers digging into the sleeves as if expecting answers from it, expecting it to fix the aching gap his absence has left. But it doesn’t. Nothing does. I don’t know how long I stay there, listening to the Hotel’s distant noise, my mind drifting in and out of uneasy half-sleep.

Then—

A shift. A presence. The air hums with something familiar, electric, and before I can even lift my head, shadows curl around the room.

Alastor is here.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I throw myself from the chair and straight into his arms.

“Oh, my darling poppet,” he croons, laughter warm and fond as he catches me effortlessly. His arms encircle me, steady and sure, and all at once, the restless, twisting feeling inside me unravels. “Did you miss me?”

I nod furiously, fingers clutching at his vest, at the fabric of his coat. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes.”

He chuckles, but there’s something softer beneath it, something pleased yet—understanding. His fingers trail through my hair, his voice dipping lower, smoothing into something gentle. “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs. “You’ve had quite the miserable evening without me, haven’t you?”

I nod again, burying my face against his chest. I don’t care how pathetic I seem. I don’t want to care. He’s back. He’s here.

His grip tightens, his hold shifting as he lifts me into his arms properly, carrying me effortlessly as he hums a familiar, lulling tune. “Well, we simply can’t have that happening again, now can we?” He presses a kiss to my temple, voice a quiet promise. “I’ll have to make sure my time is scheduled accordingly. No more lonely nights for my precious poppet.”

I exhale shakily, relief sinking into my bones. He always takes care of me. He always fixes things.

He carries me into his room, and soon, he’s dressing me himself—lifting my arms for me, slipping soft fabric over my shoulders, fastening buttons with careful precision. He hums as he works, an absent tune, pleased with how pliant I am in his hands. “There we are, all neat and lovely,” he murmurs, adjusting the sleeves. “Wouldn’t want you to feel anything less than perfect.”

Then, his hands find my wrists, gentle but firm as he lifts them to check my stitches. He turns them over, examining each careful seam, pressing his fingers lightly against the places where thread keeps me together. “Still intact,” he muses, voice dipping into something pleased. “Good girl.”

A warmth flutters in my chest. I love when he calls me that.

Finally, he guides me to the bed, pulling me down beside him. His arms wind around me, pulling me close, and the last of the uneasy feeling melts away. I don’t have to think anymore. I don’t have to decide anything.

I’m his again.

I sigh, nestling against him as his fingers trail lazily along my arm. “Thank you,” I whisper.

His grin presses against my hair. “Always, poppet.” His voice is a velvet purr. “Always.”

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nanami1chu · 21 days ago

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Alastor with teen reader*

Reader: guess what?

Alastor: if I say what, you're going to say chicken butt

Reader: as much I love doing that not this time

Alastor: Fine. what?

Reader excited: I have a crush!

Alastor: ohhhh! who's the dead sinner-I mean lucky sinner?

Reader: ...I-I don't think I wanna tell you anymore

Alastor: come now! I'm not bothered by it... At least tell me what they're like

Reader: Fine... they're... in a band

Alastor: what kind of band?

Reader: ...punk rock

Alastor: so they're a hoodlum

Reader: no! They're an artist!

Alastor: Oh really! You mean singing depressed words to clashing absurd racket? You call that art!?!

Reader blurts: yes! And you know what? I have a date tomorrow night!

Alastor: excuse me?

Reader covers their mouth*

Reader: I lied

Alastor: I don't think so

Reader: I lied to get under your skin! I don't have a date!

Alastor: I suppose then you would have plenty of time to spend the day with me tomorrow

Reader: 😠

Alastor: come on now! smile! You know I hate it when you frown

Reader: Fine I have a date. And I can do what I want, when I want! So guess what?!?

Alastor: what?!?

Reader: ...chicken butt

Runs away*

Alastor: well I'm sure they'll love your maturity and charming sense of humor!!!

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nanami1chu · 29 days ago

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distraction ⭑ l. lawliet (pt.2!)

part one here !

summary: now that the first move had been made, you start to realize just how badly L needs to be the best at anything he does, and how much he’s used to getting just what he wants.

pairing: l. lawliet x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), oral (f. receiving), voyeurism kinda, unprotected sex (wrap it up), praise ig, not really dom!L but he’s spoiled and gets what he wants, idk guys it’s nasty, fluff at the end :)

authors note: i got so carried away i cant edit it anymore just have at it and enjoy ya freaks!!

smut under the cut !!

after you and L first slept together that night in headquarters, his interest in you had grown exponentially. mainly because he couldn’t fully understand how somebody as beautiful and brilliant as you would ever be interested in somebody like him, but also because he had become fixated on learning everything there was to know about pleasing a woman. pleasing you.

every time the rest of the task force would leave for the night, he would take the opportunity to have you to himself almost immediately. as the nights went on, he grew more and more confident in what he was doing, being able to get you down on your knees in front of him just by speaking to you for a moment. his monotonous (yet somehow cocky) tone of voice alone drove you crazy.

as weeks became months, any little bit of hesitation he once had was smothered and he was just as sure of himself regarding you as he was regarding everything else; borderline too much.

that meant he began to want his needs to be met at any time he wished. like how he had sweets or drinks whenever he wanted, and anything he asked for he would always have post-haste, and it wasn’t like L to change his ways.

he would wait for everyone to leave the room, even just for ten minutes, and you’d be sitting in his lap barely able to catch your breath due to the fervour with which he kissed you.

he would ask watari to page you to his room if it was a night you hadn’t already been with him that day, either at school or out with friends, and you wouldn’t be there 5 minutes before he had you bent over a table (or the couch, or his work desk, or once over the windowsill the night you’d mentioned wanting to see the full moon).

in not so many words, his libido had gone into overdrive and he quite enjoyed getting whatever he wanted.

the only problem was that once you two were finished and he had a small break from the incessant urge to bury himself into you as deep as he could go, he still wanted to be just as close to you and horribly wanted you to feel the same way. unfortunately, this was the one situation where he couldn’t find the words to express his feelings.

so, since he had made it his goal to be the very best at making you feel good, he decided to get his point across to you the best way he now knew how.

“y/n, would you please come over here for a moment?”

almost everyone was currently heading out the door, off on their various ways for the evening aside from L, you, light, and misa. light had been discussing his thoughts about something with you while the others were busy and misa was awaiting a chance to convince light to hang out with her.

you excused yourself from your conversation with light and made your way to the opposite end of the room where L was sat in his usual spot in front of the television.

“what can i do for you?”

“actually i’d like to talk to you about something i want to do for you.” he said it as though light and misa weren’t 20 feet away, “well, to you, more accurately. i want to try something new, i wasn’t so sure i could do it but i believe i have a well enough understanding of what makes you tick to be successful.”

despite how casually and technical he spoke, every word was making that familiar damp feeling between your legs reappear. he was looking at you like he wanted to take a bite and it took everything in you not to fall to your knees right then and there, “uh, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“i’d really like to try my hand at performing cunnilingus. in fact,” he turned his head to look towards the others in the room, “let’s do it now. no time like the present eh?”

“L, whatever you’re thinking about is a bad idea. light and misa are right over there.”

“nevermind them, they won’t be able to see past the back of the couch, come and sit here.”

you nodded and he slid over and motioned for you to sit where he had just been, handing you his cell phone in the process, “if you get too nervous about them, speed dial light on this and it will send a message to his phone to meet down in headquarters. sound good?”

the second he saw you nod again, he crouched down to the floor in front of you and began working away at the clasp of your pants. he shimmied them down your legs and onto the floor, gently so as not to make a sound, your underwear going next leaving you fully exposed to him.

he was in awe. sure, he was now incredibly familiar with your body, but he’d never gotten as close as he now found himself. your pussy was just inches from his face, wet and waiting, all for him. his hands gripped the insides of your thighs, pushing them apart so he could get a better look at you in all your glory.

“would you look at this, you’ve gotten wet before i’ve even touched you.” he spread you further open with his thumbs, fingers still curled into your thighs and hot breath fanning over you, “i suppose it would only be right of me to clean up the mess i’ve caused, don’t you think?”

“yes, please.” your voice came out as barely a whisper, “but they’re going to hear you.”

“shh, just press the button and they’ll go away.” he pressed a kiss right above your clit and you had to bite your tongue to stop from crying out. even just keeping your head still was almost impossible.

you gripped the phone tightly in your hand as he kissed your clit this time, sucking it into his mouth gently.

he wasn’t trying to get you caught. that would undoubtedly be bad for the both of you, for both your jobs and your reputations. so why did he find himself itching to make you cry out? to make light and misa painfully aware of the fact that in the same suite they sat in talking innocently, L was making you feel the best that anyone could, so good you lost all sense of control and let them find out.

he knew you would never be able to show your face again had this happened though, so he reached a hand above him and clasped it over your mouth, “be quiet, i’m trying to concentrate.”

you squirmed under his touch and his tongue began to venture further, further inside his favourite place to be. he licked a stripe all the way back to your clit and your thighs instinctively squeezed shut around his head.

his hand muffled the whine that escaped you and you were sure someone would hear you. you clicked the button to dial light and finally tossed away the phone, gripping onto the couch cushions with both hands to keep yourself grounded.

you could hear his phone chime, followed by the sound of chairs pushing out and the door slamming. L paused his movements and was at last able to come up for air, mouth and chin now glistening in the faint light from the tv.

“finally i have you all to myself,” he readjusted so his arms curled under your legs, allowing him a better hold to keep them open wide.

he dove right back in, pointy nose prodding at your clit with every movement of his mouth making your body jolt. your hands worked their way into his already messy hair, holding onto it tightly as you began rocking your hips into his mouth, wet and warm and making you feel amazing.

“yes, yes just like that,” you panted out, “god that’s perfect L, please, don’t stop.”

he groaned into your pussy hearing you talk to him like that, sending a shockwave up through you. you were close, he could tell, he just had to get you there. he needed to get you there, to show you how good he could be for you.

you held him impossibly tighter to you as the knot in your stomach began to build, dragging yourself along his tongue hurriedly enough to make you wonder if he was able to keep up. your moans turned into high pitched whines as you approached your release, not a care in the world anymore about who might be around to hear you.

with both the pretty sounds you were making and the simple act of you using his mouth however you pleased, riding his tongue now to practically get yourself off, L felt so accomplished. knowing he could make you feel just as desperate for him as he felt for you was enough that he could die happy.

“oh fuck, fuck i’m gonna cum,” he was doing it. your whole body began to spasm and your back arched straight off the couch. he held you as still as he could and your legs once again closed around his head, this time squeezing for dear life as his tongue continued to work circles around your clit. all that was coming out of your mouth was babbles of his name and profanities.

as the pleasure soon turned into overstimulation, he continued without faltering his pace. he was determined. he was sure you’d probably had a good experience to compare this to, hell maybe even a great one, so he had to be sure he was the best.

“L, please, ‘s too much,” you whined, “it’s my turn.”

he pulled away entirely, coming closer to head level and giving your overworked pussy the break it was craving, “i’m sorry, i don’t recall saying anything about you getting a turn.”

“but what about you? just a taste, just quick.”

he cut you off by pressing his thumb down on your clit, the other hand moving up to cover your mouth again with a bit more force than the first time.

“i don’t know when you got it in your head that you run the show around here, but i suggest you get used to listening to me. keep being difficult and i’ll have no choice but to stop entirely.” he was bluffing, of course, but his stone cold expression didn’t give him away. his eyes trailed down to where his thumb was pressed, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile, “i really don’t want to have to do that. you just taste so, so sweet. think you can be good and behave for me?”

you nodded vigorously, pussy squeezing around nothing and begging him for attention again, the cocky, almost condescending tone in his voice making you shiver.

“excellent. now turn around for me please, hands on the back of the couch.”

you did as he asked the second he let go of you, hands holding firmly to the back of the couch and ass presented to him. you could hear his belt undoing, followed by a zipper and you braced yourself for him, but nothing.

L was a bit busy. stroking himself with one hand he stood to take in the sight before him. he had a bad habit of doing this, staring at you when he was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn’t help it. his eyes were glued to where you needed him to be, trying to carve the sight of it into his memory. his free hand held your waist as he finally lined himself up, coaxing another whine out of you as he bottomed out.

his thrusts started shallow and slow, your gentle moans fading into the background as he focused on how warm you felt.

you turned your head back to look at him, the sight of him looming over you with his jaw hung slack making you squeeze around him, “harder L, please.”

he switched to both hands and tightened his grip on your waist, “what did i say about behaving?” nonetheless, he was pushing into you much rougher now than before, yet still agonizingly slow.

“‘m sorry, it just feels so good.”

he began to pick up his pace, breathing becoming heavier the more into it he got, soon letting out little pants and groans of his own. generally, he was rather quiet during sex, only really vocalizing near the end when he couldn’t hold it in anymore, so the fact that he was talking to you and teasing you was a very pleasant surprise.

“yeah? does that feel good?” hearing you say just how good he was doing spurred him on even further, “do me a favour, id like to see the rest of you, please.”

you pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head as best as you could, L placing a hand on your sternum to hold you up. instead of letting you back down however, his hand trailed up to your chest, taking hold of one of your breasts as your back came flat against his chest. his chin rested on your shoulder and you could feel his sharp breaths hitting your ear, his racing heartbeat on your back matching your own.

the knot in your stomach returned, your pussy fluttering around him making him feel like he was on top of the world, “you— you’re so beautiful, god i could do this all day. look at you, so responsive to me, and such a good listener.”

all you could do was pant, his pace now unforgiving and making you feel like he was tearing you apart in the best way possible. he kissed behind your ear and let go of your chest in favour of rubbing gentle circles on your clit.

your whole body felt like it was white hot, “shit! yes, oh please L. i need it, i need you, please make me cum.”

he’d never heard you sound so frantic before and it was driving him up the wall, “y/n, you feel so incredible.” the more he spoke the quicker your release came rushing through you like a stampede, “i love feeling you around me like this, fuck, you’re just perfect.”

you gripped onto his arms and craned your neck to try and look at him, crying out pleas of his name and senselessly confessing to him how beautiful he was and how good he always made you feel. he held you impossibly tighter, his work on your clit long forgotten now as his only goal was to keep you as close as physically possible.

his hair hung low over his eyes, messy and sticking to his face from sweat. you were getting overstimulated once again but you’d lost all the sense in you to care, another orgasm bubbling up already because of it. L felt it, as if the look on your red face wouldn’t have given it away regardless, and his jaw fell open as his own release came creeping up on him.

his hips finally began to falter, a few loud, deep groans ripping out of him. his eyebrows knitted together and he shut his eyes, steady whimpers and groans falling out of him now as the two of you reached your peak together.

you felt him twitch inside of you, one of his arms reaching to hold the couch as his muscles began to give out on him. he placed sloppy, sweet kisses on your jaw before flopping down onto his back on the couch with an outstretched arm waiting for you.

he was back to normal, back to being his quiet self. you laid your head on his chest and he yanked the blanket from the back of the couch to cover the two of you, fingers gently tapping and tracing lines onto your bare back. this was your favourite part of it all, just laying with him and basking in what you’d just done.

for L, despite how much he craved the feeling of this, this was the part that would still make him question himself. when thoughts of self-doubt had an opening to creep up on him. the muscles in his hands twitched and the hold he had on you subconsciously tightened, dreading the moment you decide to get up and go to your room to take care of yourself.

every time you would bid him adieu, he could feel exactly where you had been laying become cold, physically reminding him of your absence. he couldn’t stand it. every night he tried to work up the courage to tell you to come back, to wait for him in his room instead, to ask you if he could come to bed with you, but every night the words would get caught in his throat and he’d choke.

you didn’t show any signs of getting up though, if anything you were letting yourself get comfier. he revelled in it, the whole room smelled a little like sweat but he found it almost sweet. maybe that would become his new favourite smell. he hoped you were as blissful as he was.

you trailed a hand up under the front of his shirt, letting your hand rest over his heart and feeling it quicken with every little movement you made.

“i really don’t want to get up.” you finally spoke, “i wish we could just stay like this.”

he winced, “don’t get up. you don’t have to.”

you tilted your head up to look at him, his face finally visible with his hair going every which way and his eyelids hanging half-closed. this was the most relaxed he ever looked, probably because he was far less concentrated than he usually had to be.

“we can’t just sleep here on the couch, L.”

we. we can’t sleep here on the couch, “we could. technically we can do whatever we want.”

he smiled at you, a coy little smile, and you knew you were so screwed.

“how about you go and wait for me in my room then?” he wasn’t looking at you anymore, too nervous for your response, “i just have to put all these files where they need to go, and maybe clean up a little.”

“really?”

“if that’s something you want to do, if not don’t feel like you’re obligated to say yes.”

“no i want to! i mean, as long as you’re sure you want me in your room.”

“of course i do.”

he sent you upstairs with his key card once the both of you were dressed again and you nervously waited for the elevator to stop on his floor. skipping the whole way to his bedroom, and once inside you tucked yourself away in the bathroom to clean yourself up.

when L entered the room, you were nowhere to be seen. he heard the sound of the running tap in the bathroom and decided to wait for you in the bed. he laid right in the middle, how he was used to sleeping, and watched you with a smile plastered on his face as you walked out of the bathroom and over towards him.

you climbed under the blanket with him and tucked under his arm, head laying on his chest and an arm stretched across his torso.

“your bed’s comfy.”

“it’s a lot more comfortable now that you’re in it.” he placed a hand on your head, “before you fall asleep, i want to tell you id like if you slept here more often. whenever you want, in fact.”

“i will be taking you up on that.” your eyes were closed, sleep beginning to whisk you away, “you’re about to see so much of me you’ll get sick of it.”

as he felt you shift into unconscious, breathing slowed against his chest and your body pressed against his, he was sure he was the luckiest man in world at that moment, “i’d never get sick of you.”

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nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

Drunk Alastor♪...

....

The hotel had fallen into silence after the night-long party.Scattered glasses on the floor, faint laughter still echoing in the walls… Everyone had retreated to their rooms, one by one. Even Husk had abandoned the bar—a rare occurrence.

You were just about to head up to your room when you noticed a lone figure in the dim glow of the bar.

Alastor

Normally, the Radio Demon was always upright, always buzzing with energy. But now? He was slumped over the counter, arms folded, head resting against them. It was as if he had thrived in the chaos of the party but now, with the noise gone, something behind that mask had… cracked.

Curious, you stepped closer. As you neared, you could hear his hushed murmurs—words too blurred to make out, but his voice… it was different. Softer. Warmer.For a moment, you hesitated. You knew he wouldn't want anyone to see him like this.

Alastor never let himself appear weak, not even for a second.Still, gently, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder."Alastor? You should head to your room. Sleeping here like this isn't a good idea."

The moment your touch landed on him, his head slowly lifted. His eyes were unfocused, but when they locked onto you…

there was something in them. Something unlike the usual manic gleam.Something deeper.Something… reverent.And before you could process it, he was staring at you.Like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen.You leaned in slightly, steadying your grip on his shoulder to help him up

But then—He slumped forward.All of his weight suddenly pressed against you. You barely caught him, staggering under the unexpected closeness.

"Hey! Can you—"Your words died in your throat.Because his face… had buried itself into your hair.Warm breath ghosted over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine a

And worse—

He was sniffing you

Panic surged through you, and you tried to pull away."Alastor… what are you doing?"But instead of answering, he nuzzled closer, cheek brushing against yours.Warm. Soft.Your whole body tensed, frozen in place, as he let out a quiet, satisfied hum.

"Mmm… warm… soft…"His voice was almost purring, like a content cat.You lifted your hands to push him away—gently, carefully—but he only frowned, gripping onto you tighter, as if refusing to let go.

"No. This You tried with all your might to gently push him away, but every time you did, you felt Alastor lean into you more like a stubborn cat."Alastor, come on! Seriously, you can’t even stand!" you whispered, but he just closed his eyes a

You tried with all your might to gently push him away, but every time you did, you felt Alastor lean into you more like a stubborn cat."Alastor, come on! Seriously, you can’t even stand!" you whispered, but he just closed his eyes and let out a satisfied hum.

"Mmm... like this... so comfortable..."

Not you! You weren’t comfortable at all!

How were you going to carry him? How were you going to get him to his room? And most importantly, why was he causing such a big problem?

With Alastor's head buried in your hair, he shifted his weight a little more, and you stumbled.

"Alastor, wait—!"

But it was too late.You lost your balance completely, and in the next second, as you fell onto your back, all his weight followed you.Thud!

(art is mine)

For a few seconds, you just lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what just happened. Then you realized something.

It was… too warm.

And you couldn’t move.

Slowly, you looked down, only to find Alastor fully sprawled on top of you.Right now… The Radio Demon was lying on you with all his weight."Seriously?!"

you silently screamed inside your head. You raised your hands to push him off, but then…A slow, deep breath.And a small grunt.Alastor’s eyes were closed. His breathing was steady. His body relaxed.

He was asleep.Yes.On top of you.You knew he was asleep.You could physically feel your brain malfunctioning.

"ALASTOR?!?"

you whispered, poking him, but he didn’t react. He just squirmed slightly, buried his nose in the side of your neck, and settled into a more comfortable position.For a moment, you wondered how you were going to get out of this.If you moved him, he’d probably grunt and cling to you again. If you screamed, maybe someone would help, but… no! You didn’t want anyone to see this. If anyone saw this, they’d tease you for the rest of your life!You sighed quietly and rested your head on the ground.

------

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nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

Everlastingly

the plot is: at a late hour you expected to meet anyone but the man whose body you'd buried yourself and whom you had been loving for so long — unrequitedly. but what will happen now under the witness of the full moon, when he's creeping out of the shadows, smelling like the flowers you lay on his grave, and with you bleeding..?

(shortly, you meet vampire alastor in new orleans cemetery)

words ≈ 5.9k

warnings: vampire smut, semi-public sex, cemetery sex, cunnilingus, fingering, biting, blood kink, nipple play, alastor's shadow a bit rough, mention of stalking, alastor speaks french (but just a little bit)

♡ daisy means keeping secrets, purity, happiness ♡ honeysuckles mean devotion ♡ red alstroemeria mean mutual support and deep love ♡ tulips mean rebirth

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

Coolness in the air lay on you like silk, and you took a deep inhale of the night air, chilly and aromatic like the perfume of a charming stranger. It seemed the scent of the night could tell you more about this world, something mysterious, you just had to breathe deeper. The stars appeared on the firmament and twinkled as diamonds scattered over black velvet. The full moon, like a bright citrine, shone over New Orleans. Precious, splendid night folded the city in its embrace.

You hurried to get home soon, nights in New Orleans had never been safe. Moreover you had that growing pain in your abdomen, telling you that the next few days would be not easy. Already you had angry tears in your eyes because of this pain, because of how late you were free from your new work, because of how vulnerable you felt now, because of eating you from the inside solitude. The pain consumed your insides, but you didn't slacken the pace; your heels tapped against asphalt nervously, cautiously.

Hurrying home you were thinking about the most peaceful way. And as a sudden gust of wind brought the scent of flowers and dirt, and to inhale more of this sweet wet aroma you turned your head, you saw gates of Lafayette Cemetery No. 1. The way through the graveyard wasn't the shortest but it was detached, scarcely you could meet anyone there and you indeed wanted to merge with the night. Although this night was quieter than most nights in NOLA (as the opposite of your wild day at work), you wanted to make sure nothing would disturb you from your lonesome date with the moonlight. And the garden of the dead seemed the perfect place for this goal, so you crossed the gates.

It felt like the night here became deeper, as if it threw down its velvet cape on you, enveloping you with silence and loneliness. The small echo of the city, which had grazed your hearing before you stepped here, now dissolved in soft brushing of leaves above; your steps were softer and became dull when you took an old overgrown path. But still the pain in your belly wouldn't let you completely enjoy the glory of this night. Now the spasm flowed down your pelvis and hips, and taking another step further you couldn't suppress a quiet moan slipping from your lips. That second you bumped into someone.

You lifted your head up to see the smiling face of a man. His form seemed absolutely black in the shadow of an oak under which you appeared, only his smile shone brightly.

The stranger wanted to say something, his hand almost found your elbow to touch, but you already dropped an apology and hurried further. You were stirred up.

Who was he, and didn't his face look familiar? But it was hard to say — under the tree you could barely see your own hands. But that smile… It was as bright as day, as if his smile caught every thin ray of moonlight and reflected it directly into your pupils, blinding, hypnotising you. But despite that supernatural guise his smile looked familiar. You wanted to look back at him, but you believed it was better to pretend you already forgot him, though you could feel a pair of penetrating eyes staring at your back; a prey could feel the same. You decided to turn off the path, hide from his gaze.

Stoned white walls surrounded you on both sides, the small houses with the walls darkened with centuries or pearly white, with round or triangular roofs, with or without a cross atop. The cold seemed emitted from the vaults.

Suddenly you saw a shadow falling on the ground, crossing your way. It didn't move. Frozen in space, a silhouette chained to the dirt, tall and definitely masculine. You took a little step back. You didn't want to think who did this shadow belong to, the answer, you knew, would frighten you half to death, because whoever was the owner of this shadow, it meant only one thing — in this cemetery you were not alone.

You froze as you turned around. You looked closely into the distance through the haze but where a second ago you saw a shape of someone, there was nothing now. Just emptiness between two tombstones. Perhaps a play of your imagination, after all you were tired and scared, but behind you on the ground was lying an actual shadow of a man, and before your eyes was just night light fog and shadows of trees. You went that way, where the haze came from, and turned to the left, taking the path where the graves didn't stand so close to one another, and you, if it would be needed, could quickly run away. As quickly as you could with your knees shaking from carrying your painful body.

The wind blew in your back as if urging you this way. But a menace caught you suddener than you expected. As if separating from a wall a man stepped onto the path; the fallen leaves softly crunched under his feet. But before you could discern his form in the shadow of a high vault, his voice reached your ears,

“Why the long face, my dear?”

Gasping you froze in place. An apparition in front of you thickened from the darkness around into a physical form of a familiar shadow. That was him again, the very man you had met earlier, whose penetrating gaze you could feel even through the cold gravestones.

Not receiving an answer from you, the man tilted his head and took a step forward. You moved back. Your every short step back was reflected by his long one ahead, and soon he appeared too close to you and finally, as you both left the inky shadow of the vault, the moon illuminated his form.

The teeth of the same sharp smile glittered at you, making you stop at fear and interest. But now when he was moonlit, you finally understood who was near you all this time.

“Alastor?” You immediately put your palm on your mouth, as if his name should never have been spoken. But you only never addressed him directly.

“That's my name.” He took another step to you, appearing so close you had to lift your head up to look at him,

“It can't be… You're- you are…”

“I'm dead.”

“No? No..!” He wasn't dead, how could he then stand here, speak to you? But how could he be not dead either if you saw it, if you saw his body. “No…” You were confused and afraid. A tear, a reason of which you didn't know, ran down your cheek and crushed against the ground. How many tears a cemetery could soak up? How many tears could you cry out? How long could you moan? Why was he here?

“Death isn't so hard to strike down, my dear. You can make sure of that yourself. Touch me.”

Alastor slightly bent down, looking into your face. The moon got prisoned in your tears as you looked up at him with widened eyes. The blent of disbelief and hope in your look caused Alastor to give you a soft smile. There was enough sorrow for you and he wanted to cheer you up a tad, “Well, dear? Make sure I'm not a ghost.”

Hesitantly you lifted your hand, your palm lay on his chest. Cold ran through your fingertips, you pressed your palm tighter to feel his heartbeat, but all you felt was the soft texture of his white shirt. You looked up as your fingers traced to the right — his heart must be somewhere! — and a sight escaped your lips as you still felt nothing. Alastor brought his face closer to you, inhaling your breath. You wanted to withdraw your hand, but Alastor grasped your wrist. Your instincts screamed at you to run but your body remained deaf to this voice, you were riveted to this path surrounded with crosses and tombstones, chained to the place under the eyes of Alastor.

“I only wanted to thank a lady who was so kind to me for all this time. Tell me, cher, how did you know my favourite flowers?” He arched his brow at you.

Red alstroemeria. You always lay them on his grave, adding sweet honeysuckles to them.

“I watched you.“ You answered as hypnotised. The pictures of your half-shared past flashed before your eyes: you watched him, followed him, learnt him — and he never knew. From the distance you eyed him, without being noticed you helped him when he needed to, you knew him better than anyone, but he didn't know you were even near. You dreamt about him, tried to take courage to face him, for you knew you were so similar, you could be so ideal and perfect together. But your fear was stronger. And only once you appeared so close you could reach him, but he could never respond to your touch.

“And what was the point? Wanted to steal me?”

“Wanted to know you better,” The words slipped smoothly from your lips, you didn't know if you really wanted to be honest or if that were the charms of his penetrating gaze. “But was too afraid…”

“Why?” He tilted his head when you said nothing, only stared at him.

No, it wasn't his gaze. You wanted to reveal the truth you were hiding in your heart for years. You longed to confess. The weight of these words was too heavy for you.

“It was you!” The words were bitter on your tongue, you spat them in a weak cry, “You were so perfect! So handsome, and famous, and talented… And what am I? Who am I? I was simply nothing, nothing for you and nothing I could give to you but my-! B-but… Ah… I wanted to be with you… And maybe if I knew you better than I could learn to be someone you'd like? Someone you would like to be with?.. Like I did? Is it silly? I know it's silly, but it's true! It's true even now…”

You dropped your look down, tears blurred your vision completely. Because of your uneven breath and knot of tears in your guts the spasm of menstruation became stronger, but the tears you shed were dedicated only for him, not your pain.

You saw a white piece of fabric — Alastor handed you his handkerchief. You hid your face in the cotton, still staring at the ground. His shoes were on both sides of your feet, he was closer than ever, and in your palms you squeezed his belonging, you soaked it with your tears and soon it'd be stuck in his inside pocket; your tears would be carried next to his heart. You had never been so close to him.

Alastor hid the handkerchief back into his jacket. He witnessed your tears so many times but never actually heard the reason; and he could blame himself for not coming out to you earlier if only he wasn't so self-enamoured, because what was the point of self-torture when he was with you now?

“But darling! Your devotion is worth more than my status, and,” Your palms appeared in his hands, “it's your devotion that brought me here tonight. And…” He brought your palms to his face, leaning closer, “I must say you're more beautiful than those flowers you give me, cher,” He kissed your palms, “And these tears… Why do we need them now?”

Did he know it was the palms embarrassing his lifeless body, wiping away blood from his face, wielding a shovel for his grave, but not fast enough to lie him down and bury his dark secret with him?

He placed another soft kiss on your trembling palms, the only pair of hands taking care of his grave though in his life he had given you not a bit of his attention, but hopes and dreams. His lips traced lower right to the thin blue veins, pulsing under the feather touch of his mouth.

“Darling, we are together now.” He said, and your tears dried away. Your heart and the world seemed to stop their motion so that not a sound would disturb you from hearing his next words, “Isn't it the most important? That we're together now? What's the point of us grieving over the past that never even happened if now we belong to each other?”

Alastor leaned to your wrist, his lips were parted and eyes never left yours. The lips, cold and dry, touched your thin skin and you gasped. Watching you, he opened his mouth wider, and you felt his tongue lolling out. Next moment his teeth sank into your flesh, making dark red, almost black in moonlight, drops falling on the ground. The moment your blood splashed in his palate Alastor closed his eyes in pleasure. He tenderly pressed his lips to your wrist, greedily sucking in and swallowing more of leisurely flowing blood. He looked at you, hearing your quiet moan of pain, and let go of your wrist, though still squeezing your fingers in his palm. His bright red tongue licked clean the holes in your skin.

“This taste is divine…” He growled, taking a step forward till his body pressed to yours. You smelled the moist scent of dirt and something cloying. His hands firmly held your hips, as if propping your body weakening with each passing second. “And this scent…” His voice slightly trembled as he took an inhale, brushing his nose against your neck, “It drives me insane.” The teeth on your neck, their sharp edges were pressed to your skin but didn't dare to break it; your waiting, fear blent with desire made you quiver, and you bent your neck inviting his jaws to bite. His loud breathing reminding of a growl echoed in your ears, warmed your skin. He held himself from taking you right away, not willing to scare you, but just as a beast he wanted to conquer you with his strength and ardour. He was something between a man and an animal.

He didn't take his hands off your hips, didn't go aside, Alastor directed your body, going further, and you knew, as you obediently stepped back, that there was a low gravestone behind you, a marble slab hiding a coffin underneath. And soon your calves pressed against the iced stone.

“Sit down.” Alastor growled, pressing down on your shoulders.

Not taking your eyes from him, you sat down. Tender petals of little daisies tickled your ankles, your arms stretched to withered red tulips scattered around, but your gaze was still chained to Alastor only.

“Lie down.”

The coolness of the stone transmitted to your body, but its smooth surface felt unexpectedly soft, and you relaxed your limbs as the starred sky appeared before your eyes; you noticed a figure of an angel atop a vault behind you. The sky was high and lured you to look deeper in its endless blackness. But the longer you peered into the firmament, the smaller you felt, until Alastor's body towered over you, breaking the illusion sent you by the night. Like a predator Alastor crawled to you on all his fours, hiding your body from the skies. His posture, his fangs, that greedy lustre in his eyes: everything reminded you of some kind of a carnivore, not a deer he was once mistaken for.

Alastor inhaled the scent from your skin and hair cascading on your bosom and the stone. You smelled lightly like a flower, like a secret hiding behind a shy smile; he smelled the bitter scent of undried tears on your eyelashes and aroma of your blood, it brought brutality to the portrait of you. The most mysterious and alluring scent he had ever breathed in. He wanted to keep this aether in his lungs, breathe with only you alone.

As Alastor inhaled the scent of you, you realised he was a predator indeed. But there was no place for fear in your heart; its rapid palpitation was only the result of your own longing. The pain in your body made you hate everything, but there was still weakness and devotion in you kept for Alastor, making you surrender to him without hesitation; and though his eyes shone preternaturally brightly in the darkness, his fangs and claws could easily tear you apart, he still acted carefully, like a gentleman. He cupped your cheek before a kiss, he held you only in his palm so his claws wouldn't hurt you; he slowly undid your blouse, leaving no scratch on you. Despite his eldritch nature, in his eyes you saw care and tenderness.

Alastor admired the way your skin shone in pale moonlight, how your breast heaved with every heavy breath you took, how your cheeks blushed. His palm slipped under the fabric, taking its place on your ribs; his mouth went down to the hollow between your breasts. He pressed to your skin, your heartbeat pounded in his head, it was fast, loud, anticipating. You felt light kisses on your chest before you heard his whisper, not louder than the rustle of trees afar,

“Your heart beats so melodiously. I'll kiss it.”

With these words Alastor sank his teeth in you. You gasped but put your palm on his crown, pressing him closer. You heard his growl and then a squelch sound, you felt weaker and lighter, as if slightly hovering above the gravestone. A smile spread across your face, you heaved a sigh, as Alastor's gentle love bite turned into something darker. He gulped as if it was his last meal or perhaps the first for several nights, he was eager, insatiable.

“Slower, Alastor, slower, please,” You moaned out, feeling growing pain in your chest. His hips rolled against your pelvis, awakening your own desire, which made your blood run faster into his mouth; he bit tighter as if afraid you could slip away from him in any second, but there was no sense in it. You wouldn't go anyway, not because he pinned you down with his body, but because you wanted to stay, wanted to give in to him as you had been dreaming all your life. You whispered,

“Savour me.”

Immediately his hot mouth stopped. All you heard was your own palpitation and his heavy breath. Then you heard a kiss, and another one, gently Alastor captured your wound with his lips, his tongue caressed against your skin whilst he swallowed, this time reveling in your taste. As he drank, your palpitation sounded in his head, encharming him like the melodies of romantics, it brought a special rhythm to his swallows. He closed his eyes, moaning in pleasure, his palm found your breast to give a gentle squeeze and a sweet moan of yours flew into his ears.

“Oh, you're so delicious, cher, it's really hard for me to stop.” With one last lick he lifted his gaze to you. His eyes flashed with desire before he showed his teeth with a smile. He didn't want to stop but he didn't want to hurt you either. Luckily he smelled you long before you even crossed the gates of this cemetery. You frowned as the spasm pounced on you again, but Alastor already sank down, kneeling in front of the grave and pulling you to him by your ankles. He lifted your skirt up, and you placed your legs on his shoulders. He eyed at you, patting your hip,

“Good girl.”

His palm caressed your hip up and down, the touch made you slightly shiver. Soon the chill lay on your hot core and you glanced down to see Alastor between your thighs, meeting your gaze as if he knew you would look at him. He smiled, licking his lips and lowering his face to your cunt.

Alastor inhaled the bitter sweet scent of your blood and nectar and gave a long, slow swipe between your folds. The tip of his tongue stopped at your clit and pressed on it, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

Alastor stayed satisfied with your reaction, and repeated the action two more times, passing his tongue over you hard and leisurely, savouring you as you had asked before. The taste of you was a struggle for Alastor between swallowing as much as possible whole and at once, and reveling in it as long as possible, holding it in his mouth, letting it melt down his throat. It was all your juices, your blood and concupiscence, scent of your sweat as well, that drove Alastor insane. He lapped you clean, as clean as possible with your cunt bleeding abundantly, but he never stopped, enjoying the sounds you were making.

“Ah… that's good!” You arched your back in the growing pleasure, facing the sculptured angel above you. You covered your mouth with your palm, saving your moans and deep exhales, although you knew you couldn't save from that pair of stoned eyes, watching and judging your sinful display. But why worry? You were dizzy with love and lust, everything else didn't matter. Only the closeness of Alastor, his hot mouth and gentle hands, his honey whisper against your skin were the only important things tonight and ever.

You lifted up your leg, giving Alastor more space to devour you, and he added his finger to the work. As his thumb fondled your clit, his tongue dug into your hole, and Alastor rolled his eyes back as your warm nectar splashed over his mouth. He made a few more little licks inside you before retracting and taking the view of you. The beauty adorned with shyness and lust: one was in your look, the other one was in your pose. Such a tempting view couldn't hide from Alastor anymore.

As Alastor emerged from between your thighs you couldn't stop staring the way your blood dripped down his chin in thick glistening threads, until he catched one with his finger and sent it into his mouth; his tongue licked the rest of your arousal.

Alastor pulled you a little closer, so you appeared right on the edge of the tombstone, and then you felt something touching your chest, though Alastor's hands were still on your hips.

A shadow, not a flat silhouette on the ground, caused by the pale moonlight, but a black spot in the form of a man appeared next to you. It looked like the one you met earlier, which made you turn off the path. Now you realised it was too similar to Alastor, though the form of the double seemed more wild. The eyes of the shadow were hollow, and the slot on its face was a wide maniac smile. The view of this creature sent shivers down your spine, filled you with thrill and fear.

The moment Alastor's fingers found your cunt again, the black hands of his shadow caught your breasts, giving now a tender caress, now a rough pull on your nipples. Alastor kept his eyes there, where his companion was playing with your breasts, squeezing, fondling your soft flesh in its long sharp digits.

“Show me her.” You heard a low command from Alastor. Arms on your chest immediately slid to your shoulders, the shadow pulled you back, letting Alastor climb back on the stone to you; the shadow propped you up until Alastor was in front of you, then it put your arms on his shoulders and slipped behind you. You embraced Alastor by his neck, and his shadow seized your chest again.

“That's it.” He said in low with a smile, running his eyes over you from top to toe and back. The shivers ran from your crown, where the double of Alastor inhaled the scent of your hair, and they ran down your spine, where the airred body clung close to you.

A weak moan escaped your lips as Alastor curved his fingers, pushing them in you. The scent of your arousal hit his nostrils, and he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep breath in. He slowly thrusted his fingers forward and back, your silk walls squeezed him, surrounded with warmth, but the squelching was the only sound in this dead land but short exhales you took.

“Darling, don't be shy to let the night know how you feel.” He whispered in your ear, lips brushed your skin before he gave you a little bite on your lobe. At the same time his fingers sank deeper, his thumb fell on your nub, drawing gentle circles on it, and a loud moan finally escaped you. “Yes, cher, keep telling.” Alastor cupped your face with his thumb propping your chin, forcing you to look at him; fingers still drowning in your core.

Your moans echoed through the cemetery, such a sinful melody among the ones who found their place in heavens. Your nectar dripped down on the gravestone, and Alastor whispered how good, how warm you were; his sweet nothings instigated more salacious sounds falling from your lips; his shadow now fondling now abusing your bosom cause you scream louder from blended delight and pain. Fingers in you moved faster, easily sliding in and out between wet walls.bYou felt the fire within you, creeping high from your curved toes to your trembling thighs, your palms slightly slapped Alastor's back; you moans became deeper, more sensual; you were dizzy, eyes rolled back, just a little more and you would collapse on the stone below.

“Cette petite mort te va bien, ma chérie.”

The wave of sweet, burning pleasure crushed over you, pushing you into the arms behind your back. Swooned you were lying on the cold grave, hard breathing and smiling in ecstasy, with your limbs still slightly shaking in aftershock. So unconscious you barely realised Alastor's shadow peppered your face with a light kiss, whilst his master lapped the fruits of his work. It felt as if your soul was levitating above you, joining that canting angel on the vault to tell him how heavenly it could be on earth in arms (or on a palm) of your beloved.

While you were still too delighted to take umbrage at the pain he delivered, Alastor sank his teeth in your thigh; as his fangs and then lips touched your gentle skin you moaned as if it was just a loving kiss and not a hungry bite.

Your weak laughter reached him as his shadow pecked you, playing with your hair. With a handkerchief Alastor wiped off his mouth from the rest of your blood and cum and crawled up to you. You looked up at him, eyes radiating with joy, and lips turned so red somehow — all you became as bright as the stars illuminating you both.

“Alastor.”

For the first time he heard you saying his name with gladness, before that there was always grief in your voice, longing or despair. Laying honeysuckles on his grave, answering a stranger who he was for you if you visited the grave so often, and even facing him in the flesh — there were always tears in your eyes and voice. But not now.

Alastor leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You softly moaned, closing your eyes and laying your palm on his cheek. His fingertips hardly touched your chin, but you willingly opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. As he parted his lips from you, he rested his forehead against yours for a little; you brushed his cheek with your knuckles.

He helped you to sit up, adjusted your underwear and skirt, did your blouse, everything without breaking silence; his shadow watched that simple care with genuine surprise, as far as one could tell when it had barely a face. Alastor put his palm on your stomach,

“How do you feel?” His fingers slightly circled over the thin fabric.

“Mm, better.”

“No pain, no- anything?”

“I'm positively fine.” You said with a smile, and it was true. The pain dissolved, you only felt the tense in your tights but it was pleasantly.

Alastor smiled back and stood up from the tombstone, he took off his jacket to put it on your shoulders, leaving a little kiss on your cheek as he bent down to you. His hands traced down your arms to intertwine with your fingers.

“Can you walk?” He asked with a worried look, at which you hummed with a smile and quickly stood up. Still holding his palms you made several steps around him, though your knees indeed felt a tad weaker. Alastor only worried if he drank too much blood or if he bit too deep, brought you vulnerability in any way, but you seemed too glad to demonstrate to him your strength. You looked at him challengingly, smiled at him with smugness…

Ah, what was that!

Alastor clicked his tongue,

“Next time I won't let you get off so lightly, my dear.” Seemed it was what you wanted to hear for you gave Alastor a bright smile, but in fact it was exactly what he would like to do with you, so your stretched in a smile lips suddenly met Alastor's. You could feel your own saltiness as he brushed his tongue against yours, the taste of you seemed rather addictive and you leaned to him for another and another kiss when Alastor tried to stop; suddenly, when you opened your mouth for a deeper kiss, his fangs captured your lower lip, and now Alastor kept you in place not just with his hands on your hips, but with his teeth in you, kissing and drinking you, letting you dissolve within him while your tongues were intertwined.

Panting you fell into his arms which wrapped tightly around you right away,

“Let's get you home, dear.” Alastor's bloody lips brushed against your ear.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

The night seemed didn't want to end, she only demonstrated her splendour more haughtily. There were no more secrets for the night to keep, but she was too proud to leave the two of beloveds without one last reminiscence of her glory. So she studded her puffy skirt with more diamonds, let the citrin on her crown shone brightly as the sun, enriched her cool aroma with sweetness of wild roses growing along the fence of the cemetery gates. The beauty of this night would remain in your memories as well as the love you gave each other in her witnessing. And perhaps the brighter the stars shone, the happier the night was when one of her bloodthirsty children found the special one curing his nocturnal heart. Cool and velvet embrace of the night turned into aegis for two, who carried their devotion through life and death.

Alastor kept his palm on your hand which you wrapped around his arm. His skin felt softer and warmer than it was earlier, perhaps your blood did it to him, you thought.

His nature didn't scare you anymore, not that it ever scared you. You loved him too much to run away because of the view of blood on his hands… or mouth. Just when you met Alastor that night you were surprised, caught off guard. With his death all your dreams and hopes were scattered, even illusions, and only love, deep and true, remained to bring flowers to hi., to take care of his small grave, to shed silent tears on the ground he lay beneath. And that night those dreams came true.

“This is your house there, right?” Alastor stopped in front of the graveyard exit. On the other side of the road there was a building, one of the apartments was yours, and there was a bath and a bed, clean clothes and soft pillows. You suddenly felt the urge to yawn. It was a long day and even a longer night, and although you wished to settle in this starry night with Alastor forever, you were too tired to even stand without his support.

“Yes,” You answered shortly and looked up at Alastor. He read your silent entreaty in your starred eyes. He brought you closer tenderly and whispered,

“Hold on tighter.”

You buried your face in his chest as the darkness thickened around you, swallowing and hiding you from this world, from these stars and the bright moon.

The twirling sensation pressed you closer to Alastor and you held on tighter on his shirt until you felt something soft embracing your back.

When you opened your eyes again you found yourself in your flat, lying on your bed and Alastor bending over you.

Alastor quickly changed your clothes, washed your neck, chest and thighs with a towel as if conjured out of nowhere. He didn't stop smiling and humming a melody while serving you. Obviously he liked to do this. His movements were quick but elegant, tender and accurate. That must be the gift of his new form, making the simplest action look graceful. And now he was already holding the corner of your blanket, getting ready to cover you. Slowly the duvet covered your toes, cold knees, thighs, your soothed belly, your breast and arms, until the edge was brought up to your chin. Alastor was towering over you, still holding on the blanket edges by both sides of your shoulders. His face was an inch from you. He placed a kiss on your cheek, murmuring,

“I can't stay, cher. But I'll come back. Next night, as the sun sets, I'll be here.” He looked into your eyes and saw you smiling, “Sleep tight, my dear.”

You fell asleep right away as his lips touched your forehead. In your dream, which you didn't really remember the next day — so rich and long it was — you saw him and you, in the garden of stones and sculpted angels entwined with honeysuckles; you were walking hand in hand, talked about nothings, about blood and stars, or kept silence in a thigh embrace; you saw a grave for two but no one was there, and heard the barking of hounds dissolving in a gentle whisper of somebody's vows.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor kept his eyes on you for the whole rest of the night. He guarded and admired you, felt angry he couldn't lie next to you. How could he not notice you when he was alive? Did you hide from him so well? That was a pity. Your fears were stronger than your desire to show your love; you prefered to keep a secret and daydream about love rather than to be found out and face only possible rejection. But at least your devotion was unconquerable, and you — he still couldn't believe in this — carried it through your fear, through his shame, through his death. He still couldn't believe it was real, he only thanked and planned to give you everything you'd ask for. As Alastor said to you before, there was no point in regretting what had not been done, what had been missed, had never been tasted. You had nights. Endless and countless nights only for the two of you. If you were not destined to meet during the day, then the night became the place of your wedding, under the vault of black heaven spotted with stars as bright as the tears you shed on the black ground where he was lying. And with him at these nights you would never feel solitude again.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

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nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

Lazy Mornings

Alastor x reader

NSFW MINORS DNI

TW: Male oral

The early morning light always woke you first. Gentle gold warming you and encouraging your eyes to flutter open, rewarding you with the serenity of golden glow of the swamp in the morning. Sun dappled leaves and the soft reflection off the water pulling your lips up, curling at the ends.

Unable to help snuggling deeper into the bed, eye half lidded as you took in the gentle rustle of leaves. Tired eyes tracing the twisting, curling branches through their tangle until you lose track.

But your favorite part of morning wasn’t the swamp. No matter how relaxing, soul healing the sight was. No, it was turning to the side to capture the sight of your slumbering lover. His soft, fluffy chest rising and falling slowly with each lazy breath. His expression, usually vibrant and exuberant relaxed and smoothed in sleeps embrace.

Slowly snuggling closer to lie your head on the pillow of his chest fur. Your eyes would grace his features. Fingers sometimes assisting to follow the sharp upturn of his nose, or dipping down to trace his lips before curving up his jaw to swipe gently over his cheek bones.

Earning a soft groan as he would turn, pulling you into him.

A contented smile breaking your closed lips, unable to help smiling into his neck before closing your eyes again. Feathering gentle kisses over his neck and throat.

“Good morning love.” You’d mumble between stamps of your lips on his skin. Hearing his grumbles would only make you chuckle.

But the real prize lay lower. Your darling radio host, a creature of the night and a product of his time. An evening broadcaster, dancing swing in midnight dens and dim lit speakeasies twisted his internal clock.

He was at his sweetest….eyes gentle and tired in the golden morning rays. Fur glowing in the light as you nuzzled your face into the plush softness. Kisses trailing over his jaw then over his throat before going lower…and lower…and lower..

Your lips tracing a well known path over his stomach down to his abdomen, showing the worship he deserved over his Adonis belt.

Waking him for another day in slow gentle movements letting the plush of your lips press against his tip. Coating them in the leaking fluid as you kissed him awake. Humming as you licked the salty liquid from your lips.

“My morning dove~” a husky murmur of praise, paired with hips raising slightly in a silent request for more.

“Gentle love, relax.” You’d soothe, more than happy to allow him to wake slowly.

Sliding your wet lips up his smooth length before stopping at the head. Letting your kiss linger there, appreciating the smooth bulbous tip that seeped in reciprocated adoration.

Your eyes fluttering shut as you submitted to the familiar motions, your own tired mind fuzzy and content as you nuzzled and lavished attention over him. Sucking sensitive spots before soothing them with your tongue. Kissing each inch of flesh rewarded with gasps and groans. His hips raising to meet your lips with each new press.

A groan vibrating from his chest to voice his vocal appreciation.

You pulled away with a pleased smile, there was truly no better way to wake him.

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nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

In Your Time of Need

(Alastor x female wife)

NO MINORS PLEASE!

***

You were pissed. You were inexplicably irritated beyond belief. And the worst part? The cause of your distress wasn't even worth getting angry about, which you knew full well, yet here you were acting like a 15 year old school girl again. Ugh! This was so stupid! And YOU were stupid for allowing yourself to be this upset about something so dumb- and on and on your internal chastisement circled.

You hadn't even realized that you had walked yourself right into the hotel kitchen, ignoring a concerned looking Charlie and Vaggie, to absent mindedly pour a warm mug of coffee and shuffle off. Muttering curses and occasionally waving your hand in the waves of anger wafting off of you.

Stumbling upon you stewing within the depths of the library, Angel Dust made the Unfortunate mistake of introducing logic to your situation. You nearly bit off one of the gloved hands that dared to enter your line of sight as you snapped your sharp teeth in rebuttal. The tall spider demon wasted no time in running for his afterlife right out the door. Usually, you were quick to offer an apology for the VERY rare event of baring your teeth or even a frown towards a friend. But not today...NOT TODAY!

Still steeped within your funk, you were suddenly swallowed by a thick, swirling miasma of black shadows. As soon as you were dropped onto your shared bed sitting with your legs over the side, feeling pin pricks of static climbing up your arms, you struck your husband with a questioning glare. He stood directly in front of you with a smirk, polished boots tapping on the hardwood floor, and eyes half-lidded in understanding. Before you knew it, he had kneeled in between your legs and had raised up your tank top enough to reveal the ample breasts hiding underneath.

Your protests were cut short by the breathy gasp that broke through your lips as Alastor roughly sealed his mouth around one nipple while kneading your other mound between his long fingers. You could feel his ever-present smile as he switched breasts. Never letting up on the pressure of the static also physically stimulating your sensitive skin. Without a word, strong hands gripped your hips and pulled them forward while you breathlessly sunk back onto your elbows and watched him unbutton your jeans.

He even made sure to maintain eye contact as he rained a trail of tender kisses down your stomach. It was so distracting that you hadn't even noticed how he also slid off your pants and left you in just a pair of black underwear. Now face level with your, now moist core, your husband began to litter your inner thighs with bites and licks as he positioned your legs over his shoulders.

The room filled with your moans when he finally brought that talented tongue to your barely clothed vagina. He continued to measure your lewd reactions with a satisfied stare as he played with your clit through your soaked panties. Your hips began to rhythmically buck up into the stimulus he provided. When you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud "FUCK!" as the wave of your orgasm crashed into you and you rocked onto Alastor's thick tongue.

By the time you caught your breath, you realized that you were now free of clothing and being repositioned onto your stomach. The deer demon had pressed your chest and head into the soft, but now sweaty mattress, while placing your ass up on your knees for him to admire. You waited in anticipation, trying to see anything other than his strong legs still clothed in slacks, when a sudden slap rang out. You wasted no time in returning to your original view point as you already knew he only wanted you to see what he allowed you to during sex.

Your husband did indeed enjoy possessing the control in this area, which was a turn on in itself, but his hum of approval only served to further torture your aching core. You needed him. Badly.

You heard a zipper and felt his heavy cock slap itself down on the same spot his hand had just disciplined. Your entire body jumped but Alastor's large hands once again firmly held your hips up straight where he wanted them. You felt his large member begin to slot itself into your folds and rub itself through to collect your wetness. A whimper bubbled from your mouth as he once again teased your clitoris with his ballooned tip.

All you heard was a dark chuckle before he rammed himself forward to fully fill your awaiting hole. You don't even know that you cried out as your mate began to fully pump into you at an unforgiving pace. Drool pooled down your lips with every loud moan and you could only grip the sheets of the shaking bed as he roughly fucked you.

You felt a gloved hand grab your shoulder and hot breath on your neck as he bent over your back to reach even deeper. Low, husky pants filled your ears as he took what he wanted from you with abandon. White noise rose with his every strong thrust and you could see the shadow of his growing antlers crawling over your clenched hands. You knew that he could feel your walls beginning to flutter because he immediately bit down deep into your shoulder. A silent command to cum in a primal language that you obeyed at once. With a final grunt from his chest, he joined you in a powerful climax as your walls milked his cock for all it was worth.

After taking a moment to calm himself, your husband kissed the bloody bit on your shoulder before dislodged himself from you. Immediately falling over limp, you merely looked up at him with a fucked out glaze in your eyes and a happily tired smile. Alastor lovingly smiled down at your now sleeping form as he tucked himself back into his slacks and straightened out his suit. Snapping his fingers, you changed position on the bed so that you were now laying correctly under a clean set of sheets. He verified that you were fast asleep free of any filth or lingering sweat before bending down a placing a kiss on his wife's now peaceful face.

***

Ok, this was my first attempt at smut based on my morning with my lovely partner. You ever just get really pissed off for no good reason and really need a good fuckin?

Well hope you enjoyed 😉

-SSPR

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nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

Reader tries yoga and Alastor enjoys the show

Reader: okay so I just lift my leg here and place my head underneath and... oh... oh no...

Reader is stuck*

Door behind them opens and somebody walks in*

Reader's thoughts: anybody but Alastor. Anybody but Alastor. Anybody-

Alastor: my my! What impressive flexibility!

Readers thoughts: dammit!

Reader: yeah just trying out yoga. Charlie says physical exercise is good for stress management

Alastor: I'm sure she's right. Say are you gonna hold that position all day?

Reader: uuuhhh... just really trying to feel it and get comfortable ya know

Alastor: Oh okay then. I'll leave you to it

Reader: wait!

Alastor: yes?

Reader: I may... I may be stuck

Alastor bursts into laughter*

Reader: it's not funny!!!

Alastor wiping a tear from his eye: you're right my dear it is not funny... it is absolutely hilarious

Reader: look can you please just help me?

Alastor: and why would I do that?

Reader: ....

Reader: ...because I asked nicely...

Alastor: you did ask quite nicely but no thank you this is too much fun

Alastor snaps his fingers next thing you know he's in a chair sipping coffee*

Reader: really!?! You're just gonna sit there and WATCH!?! You pervert!!!

Alastor: I assure you it has nothing to do with sexual desire. I just LOVE seeing people in pain

Reader: I'm not in any-ugggh! ow! Okay yeah... that hurts

Door swings open*

Angel: Hey y/n! You gotta any- oh.... my bad... you two have fun with whatever freaky shit you're doing here

Reader: no! ANGEL WAIT!

Angel leaves*

Alastor: Oh what a pity!

Reader: when I get outta here and my muscles are no longer sore you are gonna get it

Alastor takes a sip: Oh I'm so scared I'm shaking!

195 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 2 months ago

Note

idk if you do requests but if you do could you write a Alastor x reader where Y/ and Alastor were close friends when they were alive when Y/n committed suicide so when they start dating in hell Al is super protective. Sorry if this is too much

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Hello! Happy to oblige to this very pleasant request, @helluva-simper! I got a little carried away and I don't know if I completely fulfilled your request. If so, let me know if it disgusts you. ☹ The story is very long… it tells of your friendship and what Alastor does to end up in hell.

WARNING: blood mentioned, murder scenes. The ending is a little sweet/fluff!

You will find sections dedicated to jealousy and moments of sweet protectiveness/concern towards the bottom, there is a note to indicate it if you want to skip the whole narration. Happy reading!

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1920 – New Orleans.

The streets were alive with music. Jazz spilled from the clubs, mingling with the scent of sizzling street food and the laughter of passing crowds. The city pulsed with energy, a place where anything felt possible.

You were weaving through the bustling French Quarter, the beads of your necklace clicking together with each hurried step. The warm night air hummed with conversation and the distant trill of a trumpet. That’s when you saw him—leaning casually against a lamppost, arms crossed, a grin playing on his lips:

Alastor.

He had the kind of presence that demanded attention without trying. Sharp brown eyes gleamed with mischief beneath the brim of his fedora, and his suit—impeccably pressed but slightly rumpled from the humid air—suggested he had a knack for looking effortlessly put-together.

“Now, there’s a face I don’t recognize!” he called out, voice brimming with exaggerated cheer. “What brings a fine young lady like yourself out into this wild, untamed city?”

You smirked, raising a brow. “You say that like you’re not part of the wild.”

Alastor let out a laugh—bright, unrestrained. “Guilty as charged! But I do like to think I bring a certain flair to the madness.” He tilted his head, studying you with amused curiosity. “You’ve got the look of someone with a story. Care to share?”

You weren’t sure why, but something about him felt instantly familiar—like you had known him before, in another life. Or maybe it was just the way he carried himself, like he belonged to the city as much as the music did. Either way, you felt no hesitation as you grinned back at him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” you countered.

Alastor's eyes lit up, and he extended a hand with an almost theatrical flourish. “Then, my dear, we have ourselves a deal! Let’s find a proper place for storytelling—somewhere with good music and even better company.”

And just like that, the night began.

The first meeting was just the beginning. What started as playful banter on the streets of New Orleans quickly turned into something more—a friendship unlike any other.

Alastor had a way of making the world feel electric, as if life itself were a performance and he was the master of ceremonies. You, on the other hand, had a way of grounding him just enough, pulling him back from his more reckless impulses while still encouraging his mischief. Together, you balanced each other out in a way that neither of you had expected but both of you secretly needed. The two of you became inseparable. Whether it was sneaking into speakeasies, dancing until your feet ached, or sitting by the Mississippi River sharing stories about dreams and the absurdities of life, there was never a dull moment.

“You, my dear, are one of the few people in this world who truly understand me,” Alastor declared one evening, tipping his hat back as he leaned against a balcony railing. “And that is either a wonderful thing… or a truly terrifying one.”

You chuckled, nudging his arm. “Terrifying for who?”

He turned to you, grin wide, eyes gleaming in the gaslight. “Why, the rest of the world, of course!”

And honestly? He wasn’t wrong. You had a way of finishing each other’s sentences, of knowing exactly what the other was thinking with just a glance. Whether it was pulling elaborate pranks on unsuspecting bystanders (all in good fun, of course) or covering for each other when trouble inevitably followed, you were a team.

“I swear, if you ever get yourself locked up, I might consider bailing you out,” you teased one night after Alastor narrowly avoided getting into a scuffle at a particularly rowdy club.

“Might?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “How cruel! After all we’ve been through!”

You smirked. “Oh, I’d bail you out… but not before letting you stew for a few hours first.”

Alastor let out a laugh—loud and full of life. “Now that is why we’re friends. You’re almost as devious as me.”

There were moments—brief and fleeting—where the laughter faded and something deeper settled between you. Those were the nights when the world felt quieter, when Alastor would stop grinning just long enough for you to catch glimpses of something else in his eyes.

“Ever wonder what comes next?” you asked once, lying on the grass in a park long after midnight, staring up at the stars.

Alastor was silent for a moment before answering, “sometimes.” Then, after a pause, “but as long as I have a friend like you, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about being alone in whatever comes next.” You turned your head to look at him, surprised by the rare sincerity in his voice. He met your gaze and, for once, there was no mischief, no mask—just Alastor, your best friend. You smiled, but your smile seemed unconvincing to his eyes, and the gleam in your eyes was no longer the same. Something gripped you from inside. Alastor had become a part of you, but it wasn't enough.

He was a constant need.

Something in your chest was blooming and it was heavy.

It started subtly. Alastor noticed before you even said a word. The way your laughter became softer, less frequent. The way your eyes—once alight with mischief—began to dim. You still showed up, still went along with his antics, but something in you had changed.

At first, he acted as if nothing was different, thinking you’d snap out of it on your own. But then, one night, he found you alone, sitting on the edge of the riverbank, staring into the dark water as if it were calling your name. And that’s when he knew—this wasn’t something he could ignore.

He sat beside you, unusually quiet. The city still buzzed behind you, jazz and laughter filling the streets, but here, it was just the two of you and the sound of water lapping against the shore.

“You’re not well,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

You let out a tired breath, your arms wrapped around your knees. “No, I’m not.”

You really wanted to share the burden, how you felt, the heaviness of the world and not feeling enough… especially that he didn't see you the way you did, but your thoughts were incomprehensible. How could he love someone like you?

Alastor wasn’t the type to fumble for words, but for the first time in a long time, he felt at a loss. He could charm his way out of almost anything, but this—this was different. This was you, his best friend, slipping away from him in a way he didn’t know how to stop.

“Do you ever think… maybe it’d be easier if I just—” , you hesitated, fingers gripping your arms a little tighter.

Alastor’s grin vanished.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice sharper than usual. “Don’t even finish that thought.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden intensity in his tone. He turned to face you fully, his usual playful expression replaced by something raw. Something desperate.

“You cannot leave me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less fierce. “I refuse to allow it. We have a deal, remember?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You can’t exactly stop me, Al.”

He leaned forward, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “Maybe not. But I can remind you why you shouldn’t.”

Before you could react, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, worn-out trinket—a cheap little charm you had won for him at a carnival months ago. You barely remembered it, but he had kept it.

“This ridiculous thing,” he said, rolling it between his fingers, “is completely worthless. And yet, every time I look at it, I remember you. The way you cheated at that ring toss, the way you laughed when I nearly tripped over that poor man’s dog.” He exhaled sharply. “And if this stupid thing can hold that much meaning to me… imagine how much you mean to me.” But not enough… you thought.

Your throat tightened. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear something like that.

Alastor suddenly reached out and grabbed your hands, his grip firm, grounding. “Listen to me. The world is a cruel, wretched place, I won’t deny it. But you?”, he smiled then—small, sincere. “You make it bearable. And if you leave, who will remind me that life isn’t all bad?”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your intertwined hands. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to,” he said simply. “You just have to stay.”

The river still whispered below, the city still pulsed behind you. But in that moment, sitting beside Alastor, his hands holding yours as if he could keep you tethered to the world—something shifted. The weight on your chest didn’t disappear, but it felt just a little lighter.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

Alastor knew something was wrong the moment you vanished.

At first, he convinced himself it was temporary. That you just needed time. That you’d come back, and he’d tease you about running off without telling him. He’d call you a terrible friend for worrying him and then demand you make it up to him with a night on the town.

But days passed. Then a week.

And then... he found out.

Your name echoed through the streets like a ghostly whisper, carried by murmurs of sorrow and disbelief. Alastor stood frozen, heart pounding as the words reached him—words he didn’t want to believe.

You were gone.

And you had taken yourself from the world.

For the first time in his life, Alastor felt the breath leave his lungs in a way that had nothing to do with laughter. His mind refused to accept it. His body rejected the reality of it. But the truth remained.

You were gone.

He didn’t remember much of what happened after. Someone tried to console him. Someone tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything. The world had lost all sound. All color. All joy.

And then came the anger.

It started as a slow, simmering rage—a silent, festering wound deep in his chest. But grief is a twisted thing, and Alastor was not built to handle loss in the way ordinary men did.

He was not an ordinary man.

The first girl died only days after your funeral. She had your hair. Your laugh. He heard it across the street and for a fleeting, impossible second, he thought—You came back.

But it wasn’t you. It would never be you...

And if the world had taken you from him, then he would take from the world.

One by one, the women who bore even the slightest resemblance to you began to disappear. Some were found—lifeless, their bodies discarded like forgotten memories. Others were never seen again.

Alastor was careful at first. He didn’t want to get caught. But as the weeks stretched into months, his grief evolved into something insatiable. He no longer cared about consequences. He wanted them to know. He wanted them to fear him.

Because if he had to live in a world without you, then the world would learn to suffer as he did.

The city spoke of him in hushed voices, afraid to say his name too loudly. The newspapers called him The Butcher of New Orleans, but the radio stations had a different name—The Smiling Devil.

They said he never stopped grinning. That even as he ended their lives, he hummed little tunes, like it was all just a grand performance.

They didn’t know the truth.

That he wasn’t smiling.

That it was just his teeth, bared in grief so deep it had turned into something unrecognizable.

That the songs he hummed were the ones you used to sing.

But none of it mattered anymore. Nothing did. Because the only person who had ever truly seen him—the only person who had made life bearable—was gone.

And so, Alastor continued his symphony of slaughter, letting the city drown in the echoes of his suffering.

Until, one night, as he stared into the mirror, covered in blood and surrounded by the remnants of his latest victim—

He swore he heard your voice.

And for the first time since losing you…

The smile on his face faltered.

Alastor stood motionless, breath hitching as the whisper of your voice curled through the air like cigarette smoke.

It was impossible. He was losing his mind.

And yet…

“… Alastor.”

His blood ran cold. His name, spoken so softly, so familiar, yet carrying the weight of something beyond the grave. He turned sharply, but the dim glow of his apartment revealed nothing. Only the remnants of his latest crime—a body slumped in the corner, eyes wide, lips frozen in a scream. A woman who had your hair, your face, your shape—who had been a pathetic, fragile imitation of you.

His pulse roared in his ears. The radio crackled with static, his own heartbeat distorted into white noise.

“… Why?”

The question wasn’t from the radio. It was from you.

A slow, eerie grin stretched across his face, but it was empty. A reflex. A mask. His voice came out smooth, but there was something desperate beneath it.

“Why what, my dear?”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. He swallowed, suddenly aware of how cold the room had become. His fingers twitched at his sides. He felt it again—your presence, unseen but unmistakable.

“… This isn’t what I wanted.”

Alastor stiffened.

Ah. So that’s what this was. Guilt, slipping in through the cracks. He had thought himself immune to it, but hearing your voice again? It was different.

“Oh, but you see,” he murmured, tilting his head as he addressed the empty room, “what you wanted no longer matters. Because you left me.” His voice darkened, laced with something venomous. “And now I’ve made sure the world remembers you.”

A flicker in the corner of his vision. A shadow? A trick of the dim light? No—you were here.

Alastor clenched his fists, something twisting in his gut. His smile wavered. He should feel triumphant. He had honored you in the only way he knew how—with violence, with chaos, with the ruin of everything that dared to resemble you.

Then why… did he feel like he had failed you?

“Alastor…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a breath against his ear, a sound carried by the wind itself. “I was hurting. And you—”

He stepped forward, reaching out, but there was nothing to grasp. Just air. Just absence.

“I needed you.”

A laugh—high-pitched, jagged—bubbled up from his throat, unsteady and wrong. His fingers curled into his palms, nails biting into his own flesh.

“I tried!” he snapped, voice cracking, his mask slipping. “I told you to stay! I begged you to—”

Silence.

A void where your voice should be.

And for the first time in his life, Alastor felt something unfamiliar clawing at his chest.

Not anger.

Not madness.

Not even grief.

But regret.

The radio hummed. The body on the floor remained lifeless.

And Alastor, for all his power, for all his wit, for all his control—stood there, for once, with nothing.

Just the ghost of you. And the echoes of a laughter he would never hear again.

Alastor was losing himself.

The killings had been satisfying at first. Each act of violence had been a desperate grasp at control, a way to fill the gaping void you had left behind. But now—now, even as blood pooled at his feet, even as screams rang in his ears—there was no satisfaction. No relief.

Only you.

He saw you in every shadow. Heard you in every whisper of wind, every crackle of his beloved radio.

And worst of all? He felt you.

You haunted him in ways he couldn’t escape. Not in the way spirits haunted old homes or restless souls clung to their unfinished business. No—you haunted the very fabric of him.

He had always been a man of control, sharp and calculated, always three steps ahead. But now? He felt unraveled.

The change began slowly. A creeping sensation in his chest, a disturbance in his mind.

At first, it was just the dreams. Nightmares, if he were being honest—though he’d never admit to fearing them. He dreamed of the river, of your reflection staring back at him from the black water. Your eyes empty, accusing. He dreamed of reaching for you, only for your image to ripple and disappear, leaving him gasping for air.

Then came the waking moments of displacement.

He would enter a room and forget why he was there. Hear a voice—your voice—only to turn and find nothing. Food lost its taste. Music lost its charm. Even his own laughter—once so effortless—felt wrong. Forced.

His mind fractured further with each passing day.

The killings became less about vengeance and more about habit. A desperate attempt to feel something. But they no longer served their purpose.

Nothing did.

And that’s when he realized—he was changing.

The transformation was not sudden, nor was it entirely physical.

Oh, he still looked human, at least in the mirror. But inside? Something fundamental was shifting.

His once brilliant mind—sharp as a knife—now teetered on the edge of something far darker. He had always been clever, but now his thoughts felt inhuman. Detached. Cold.

He began to crave things he could not name. His body itched for something beyond flesh, beyond blood. He could feel his soul twisting into something grotesque, stretching toward something otherworldly.

It wasn’t just madness.

It was evolution.

The final breaking point came when he tried to speak to you.

Tried to summon you—truly summon you.

Through old rituals, through whispers in the dark, through desperate, fevered attempts to bring you back.

But nothing worked.

Because you were gone.

And so, Alastor did the only thing left to do.

He laughed.

He laughed until his throat burned, until his ribs ached, until the world around him seemed to distort under the weight of his hysteria.

And in that moment, something inside him snapped.

The man he had once been—the clever, charming, mischievous man who had loved you—died that night.

And in his place, something else was born.

Something with sharper teeth. Something with a hunger that could never be sated. Something that no longer cared for the limits of mortality.

And so, Alastor stepped fully into the madness, embraced the darkness, and let the last shreds of his humanity rot.

For without you—

There was nothing left worth saving.

The swamp was alive with the hum of cicadas, the distant croak of bullfrogs, and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. The night stretched on, dark and endless, as Alastor dragged yet another lifeless body through the underbrush.

It had become a ritual by now. He worked alone, humming some jazz tune under his breath, the weight of his latest victim barely a bother. He had done this so many times. The city was catching on to the string of missing women, but no one suspected him. No one ever suspected the man with the charming smile and the quick wit.

Until now.

A sudden snap of a twig.

Alastor froze, fingers tightening around the corpse’s wrist. His head tilted slightly, ears picking up the faintest movement in the distance. Someone else was here.

Hunters.

The realization hit just as he spotted the faint glow of a lantern through the trees.

Then—

BANG!

Pain. A sharp, searing pain tore through his chest. His breath hitched as he stumbled backward, his grip on the body loosening.

BANG! BANG!

Another shot—this time, his leg buckled beneath him. He collapsed to the damp earth, gasping as warmth spread through his clothing. Blood.

He could hear them talking, could barely make out their figures through the dense foliage.

"Didja see that?! We got ‘im!"

"Damn thing’s huge—look at those antlers!"

His vision blurred. His body ached, cold creeping into his fingers. But he barely noticed—because something was wrong.

His hands—his fingers—were stretching, warping into something unnatural.

Antlers.

He could feel them growing, twisting out from his skull. His body contorted, reshaping itself, the pain of death giving way to something even stranger.

His last breath came out as a laugh—a wheezing, broken chuckle that sent a chill down the hunters' spines.

And then—

Nothing.

Alastor awoke to a world bathed in red.

The sky above churned with crimson clouds, the ground beneath him cracked and scorched. He pushed himself up, disoriented, his body still tingling from the sensation of becoming.

And then he saw his reflection.

The murky water of a nearby puddle rippled, distorting his face—but there was no mistaking it. His features were still his own, but… changed.

His eyes glowed with an unnatural red light. His ears were long, pointed. And his smile—his signature, ever-present smile—felt sharper.

But the most striking change?

The massive set of deer antlers crowning his head.

Something deep inside him stirred, and as the realization settled in, Alastor did the only thing that felt right.

He threw back his head—

And laughed.

Hell had given him a new form, a fitting form.

And Alastor?

He was going to enjoy this.

Hell was not what you had expected.

It wasn’t fire and brimstone, nor was it eternal torment—at least, not in the way the preachers had warned. It was loud, chaotic, an endless city pulsing with neon lights and strange, inhuman creatures.

And somehow, you were here.

Your memories were hazy, blurred at the edges, but the weight of your death still clung to you. The pain, the loneliness, the finality of it all—it had been too much. And yet, instead of fading into oblivion, you had woken up in this strange, twisted afterlife.

And then, you met him.

At first, you thought he was just another demon. His sharp suit, his unnerving red eyes, the way he grinned like he knew a joke no one else did—it all fit the description.

But there was something familiar about him.

Something in the way he spoke, the way he tilted his head when he looked at you, like he knew you from somewhere.

And then—

"Why, if it isn’t my dear, darling, Y/N!"

His voice was a melody, smooth and rich like a radio host’s, yet laced with something darker.

You froze.

He knew your name.

And suddenly, it hit you. The way he carried himself, that unmistakable laugh, the gleam of amusement in his eyes that never quite reached his soul.

No. It couldn’t be!

"Alastor…?"

His grin widened. "Ah, so you do remember me! My, my, what a reunion! And here I thought I was the only one who got a second chance at—shall we say—infamy?"

You took a step back, heart pounding. This wasn’t the man you had known. He looked like him, sounded like him, but everything about him was… wrong.

The Alastor you had known—your dear friend—had been mischievous, yes, but not like this. Not this predatory, bloodstained thing standing before you.

"What happened to you?" you breathed.

His laughter rang out, bright and sharp. "Oh, sweetheart... YOU, happened! Your little disappearance sent me on quite the downward spiral! And, well… let’s just say I took up a new hobby." His eyes glowed with something unreadable. "Turns out, Hell appreciates a man with a knack for… entertainment."

Your stomach twisted.

You had left him behind in life, and now?

Now, he was something else.

Something monstrous.

And yet—

Even as fear curled in your chest, even as you saw the demon he had become, a part of you still saw him.

Alastor.

Your friend.

And that part of you couldn’t help but wonder—

Was there anything left of the man you had once loved?

The air between you was thick with unspoken words.

Alastor was still grinning, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something unreadable, something unsettling. He had changed, but so had you. And now, standing before him in this twisted afterlife, you knew you couldn’t keep the truth buried any longer.

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest.

"Alastor," you said, your voice softer than you meant it to be. "I—I never meant to leave you like that."

His grin didn't waver, but his head tilted slightly, as if he were listening to a song only he could hear.

You took a shaky breath. "I—", your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to say it. "I loved you, Alastor. I always did."

Silence.

His expression didn't change. Not at first. But his fingers twitched ever so slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"Ah," he finally said, voice smooth as ever. "Is that what it was all about?"

You nodded, unable to look away.

Alastor let out a slow chuckle, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were just mysterious."

You frowned, confusion twisting in your gut. "Alastor—"

"Darling, darling," he interrupted, lifting a hand as if to stop your words. "Why so serious? We’re in Hell! Surely, there’s no need for all this brooding when we have eternity to waste!"

You blinked. "What?"

He clapped his hands together. "Tell you what, sweetheart—why don’t we go paint the town red? And no, no—" he wagged a finger playfully, "not that kind of red. I mean, unless you're feeling violent." He chuckled at his own joke.

Your mind reeled. He was deflecting.

After everything you had just said, after everything—was this really all he had to say?

"Alastor," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Do you—did you ever feel the same?"

His eyes glowed.

For a split second, his grin faltered—just a fraction.

Then, as quickly as it had faded, it was back in full force.

"Now, now, dear," he purred, stepping closer. "That’s an awfully dangerous question, don’t you think?"

Your breath caught as he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away with a theatrical twirl. "Come now, let’s not dwell on silly things like the past! You’ve got a second chance, I’ve got a second chance—why not make the most of it?"

He extended a hand toward you, his grin unwavering. "So, what do you say, dearest? Care to join me for a night on the town?"

Your heart ached.

He was deflecting. Hiding behind jokes, behind that ever-present grin. But beneath it all, you saw something else—something buried deep.

A hesitation.

A fear.

A truth he wasn’t ready to speak.

You glanced at his outstretched hand, then back at his face.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to face the truth just yet.

Maybe he never would be.

But for now?

For now, you could take his hand.

And see where the night would take you.

At first, it was just fun.

You and Alastor—together again, painting Hell with laughter and chaos, just like old times. He took you everywhere, showing you the wonders (and horrors) of the afterlife, always keeping you close, always grinning.

It was as if nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

Because now, you both knew the truth.

You had loved him in life. Had lost yourself in sorrow, thinking he never cared. And he—well, Alastor never admitted things outright, but you saw it now.

The way he watched you when he thought you weren’t looking.

The way his fingers twitched, as if itching to touch you but not daring to.

The way his voice softened just slightly when he said your name.

And then, one night, he finally broke.

You had been teasing him—nothing new, just playful banter, a joke about his unbreakable grin.

But instead of laughing, he had gone silent.

Then, without warning, he had grabbed your wrist, pulling you close, his grin sharp but his eyes unreadable.

"You left me," he had said, voice unusually quiet. "Do you have any idea what you did to me, my dearest?"

Your breath caught. "Alastor—"

"I don’t lose things." His fingers tightened just a fraction. "I don’t let things go. But you… you were gone. And I—". He cut himself off, his usual humor nowhere to be found.

You reached for his hand. "I’m here now."

He stared at you for a long moment. Then—

He laughed.

But this time, it wasn’t mocking or theatrical. It was relieved.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. "Well, I suppose that means I’ll just have to make sure you don’t go disappearing on me again, hmm?"

And from that moment on—he didn’t let you go.

You were together, always.

The Radio Demon and his darling—Hell’s most inseparable pair.

It had been building for weeks.

Alastor was always by your side—more than before, more than ever. If you moved, he moved. If you laughed, he laughed. If you so much as sighed, he was right there, grinning, tilting his head, asking in that smooth, playful voice, “what’s on your mind, darling?”

But something was different.

The way he looked at you lingered too long. The way he touched your wrist, your shoulder, your waist—light, fleeting, but always there—spoke of something deeper.

And then, one evening, he finally snapped.

You were strolling through the streets of Hell, passing under neon lights and the ever-present hum of the afterlife’s chaos. Alastor had been oddly quiet—for him, anyway. No dramatic narration, no wild bursts of laughter, just… watching you.

You stopped, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

His grin widened—sharp, knowing. "Oh, nothing, my dear! Just admiring something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Alastor—"

"Tell me something, sweetheart," he interrupted, stepping closer, eyes glowing. "Did you ever consider just saying something back in the mortal world? Or did you enjoy making me suffer?"

You blinked. "Making you suffer?"

He let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, woe is me! My dearest, darling companion, struck down by despair because she thought I didn’t care—", his voice dropped, silky and smooth. "When in reality…"

A pause.

A grin.

A flash of red eyes beneath the glow of Hell’s eternal lights.

"I simply didn’t realize how much I needed you."

Your breath caught. "Alastor—"

"So!", he clapped his hands together, suddenly bursting with energy. "Since we’ve already done this whole ‘tragic longing’ thing, let’s skip to the fun part, shall we?"

He bowed dramatically, extending a hand toward you, eyes gleaming. "My dear, delightful Y/N—what do you say we make this little arrangement of ours official?"

You stared. "Are you… asking me out?"

He grinned. "Darling, I’m claiming you. But if you prefer something more traditional, well—consider this your official invitation to be courted by the one and only Radio Demon!"

Your lips parted, heart racing.

This was insane.

This was Alastor.

And yet—

You slid your hand into his.

"Took you long enough," you murmured, smirking.

His laughter rang out like music, his fingers curling around yours. "Oh, my dear," he purred. "You have no idea what you’ve just signed up for."

And just like that—

Hell’s most dangerous and inseparable couple was born.

Alastor's jealousy.

From the moment you set foot in the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor never left your side.

Oh, sure, he pretended he wasn’t clinging to you. He acted as if he was simply amused by your presence, as if you were just an interesting little pet to keep entertained.

But you knew better.

His sarcasm never faded. His teasing never stopped.

"Careful, dearest! Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own feet and landing in someone’s clutches! I hear certain demons love picking up strays—oh, but don’t worry!", he leaned in, grinning sharp as a blade. "I’d simply have to rip them apart, now wouldn’t I?"

You rolled your eyes. "Alastor, I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I know, sweetheart!" he chirped, looping an arm around your shoulders. "That’s why I let you think you’re independent! It’s simply adorable—like watching a baby bird flap its little wings before tumbling right back into my talons!"

Despite his words, his grip on you was firm.

And as you got to know the hotel’s residents—Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, Husk—you noticed something strange.

Alastor didn’t like how quickly people warmed up to you.

Charlie adored you from the start. Angel Dust practically draped himself over you, calling you “sweetheart” and “sugar” and throwing playful winks your way. Niffty loved fussing over you, and Husk—well, Husk didn’t hate you, which said a lot.

And Alastor?

He just watched.

Watched them.

Watched you.

And the more he watched, the tighter his grip became.

"My, my," he’d say with a chuckle whenever Angel Dust got too close, "it’s so fascinating how some creatures just flock to the most dangerously naive souls!"

You shot him a look. "Alastor—"

"Oh, don’t mind me!" he sang, swaying beside you. "I’m simply delighted by how easy it is for people to love you! Truly, it’s a miracle you weren’t snatched up by some unsavory characters long before I got my claws into you!"

His grin widened. "Oh, but don’t worry, dear! I’ll make sure that never happens."

And he did.

Subtly. Silently. Without ever admitting it outright.

When Angel Dust got a little too touchy, Alastor’s voice would suddenly cut in—cheerful, mocking, but firm.

"Oh, Angel, darling, let’s not forget whose company she prefers now, hmm?"

When a stranger tried flirting with you at the hotel? Alastor would simply appear beside them, laughing, grinning—his shadow stretching just a little too far, curling just a little too hungrily.

"Oh, how charming!" he’d croon. "But do tell me, dear guest, do you value your existence? No? Ahaha! Excellent!"

And when you got hurt?

Even something small—a scrape, a stumble—he was there before you could react.

"Tsk, tsk!" he’d sigh dramatically, offering his hand. "Must I do everything around here? Honestly, you’d be lost without me!"

You scoffed, taking his hand. "You don’t have to be so dramatic."

"Darling," he said, voice smooth as velvet, "I’m always dramatic. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong."

You squeezed his fingers. "Alastor."

For just a moment, his grin softened.

Just a fraction. Just enough.

Then, just as quickly, it was back.

"Now, then!" he declared, twirling you away from whatever danger had dared approach you. "Shall we continue this delightful little adventure? After all, Hell’s simply full of surprises! And I’d hate for you to face them without me!"

You laughed. "Like you’d ever let that happen."

His eyes gleamed.

"Oh, my dear," he murmured, "you have no idea."

Alastor's protectiviness.

Alastor was not a man easily shaken.

He had danced through massacres with a grin, turned suffering into a symphony, and waltzed through Hell with his usual flair. He had never known fear.

Until you.

At first, he brushed it off. Of course, he liked keeping you close—who wouldn’t? You were delightful, charming, his! But then… he started noticing things.

How sometimes, your laughter faltered.

How sometimes, your eyes drifted, seeing something else.

How sometimes, you would disappear into yourself—not physically, but mentally, trapped in some dark corner of your thoughts.

And that? That terrified him.

Because he knew what happened when people lingered in sorrow too long.

He had lost you once already.

He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

So he never left you alone.

"Darling!" his voice rang out too cheerfully whenever he caught you slipping into thought. "Why the melancholy? Bored of Hell already? I told you, dear, I’d be your eternal entertainment, but really—I thought I had more time before you started questioning your life choices! Ahaha!"

He talked constantly—more than usual, filling every quiet moment with sound, ensuring that your thoughts never got too loud.

If he ever caught you alone, lost in your head?

"Tsk, tsk!" he’d click his tongue, appearing beside you in an instant. "Now, what did I say about wandering into dangerous places?"

"Alastor, I’m just thinking—"

"Oh, I know that look, my dear! And I simply refuse to let you fall into bad habits! Now!" he’d clasp his hands together, grinning just a little too wide. "Shall we dance? Murder? Cause delightful chaos? Or perhaps you’d prefer a story—something to distract that beautiful little mind of yours?"

You sighed. "You don’t have to hover, you know."

His grin never wavered. But his fingers twitched.

"Oh, but I do, darling." His voice dipped—just for a second, too soft. "You’re simply terrible at being left alone."

And that was the real reason.

It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was fear.

Fear of silence. Fear of losing you again.

So he never let you drift. Never let you isolate. Never let you forget—

That you weren’t alone.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

It was just a knife.

A simple, ordinary knife.

You had gone to the kitchen to cook, humming softly to yourself as you grabbed it from the counter. Just like always. Just like anyone would.

But the moment Alastor saw you holding it—

BANG!

In a flash, the knife was out of your hand, clattering to the floor as Alastor’s cane struck it away.

And then—

A hand gripping your wrist.

Tight. Too tight.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

His voice was light. Too light. That awful, sing-song lilt still dancing in his words—

But his grip?

His grin?

His eyes?

They were wrong.

Red. Wide. Unblinking. Terrified.

"Alastor—"

"Did you think I wouldn’t notice?" he pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin. "Did you think I’d let you do this again?"

Your heart stopped. "Alastor, I was just—"

"Just what?" His smile twitched. "Just holding a knife? Just standing here all alone? Just thinking—"

His breath hitched.

And suddenly, you weren’t standing anymore.

You were crushed against his chest.

His arms were wrapped around you—vice-like, unyielding, desperate.

"No." His voice cracked, barely a whisper. "No, no, no, I won’t let you."

"Alastor—"

"You left me once," his breath was shaking. "You disappeared, you were gone, and I—"

He buried his face in your hair.

"I lost you."

You felt his entire body shudder.

"I can’t—" his voice broke into static. "I won’t lose you again."

And that’s when you realized—

This wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was obsession.

Fear.

A crippling, suffocating fear that had hollowed him out from the inside, left him raw, left him feral at the mere sight of you with a blade in your hand.

Because to Alastor, that knife wasn’t for cooking.

It was for stealing you away from him.

Again.

Forever.

And he’d burn all of Hell before he let that happen.

1. When You Take Too Long in the Bathroom

It started small.

A simple, human habit—closing the door when you went to freshen up.

But if you took too long, Alastor would knock—once, twice—before phasing straight through the wall, appearing inside with a grin.

"Oh, darling! Are you hiding from me?" his voice was cheerful, mocking, but his fingers twitched against his cane. "Or were you just hoping I’d come check on you?"

"Alastor, I’m fine—"

"Are you?" he tilted his head, eyes piercing. "You are alone in here, after all. Just you and that dangerous little mind of yours. Terribly unsafe, if you ask me!"

You sighed. "I was literally just brushing my hair."

His grin never wavered.

"Ah, but you see, my dear," he leaned closer, caging you in, "you have a terrible habit of thinking when you’re alone. And I simply can’t allow that."

From then on, the bathroom door never stayed closed for long.

2. When You Didn’t Answer Him Immediately

If you ever didn’t answer when he called—

"Sweetheart!"

Silence.

The air shifted.

"Darling?"

Nothing.

Static began to hum.

And before you could even realize what was happening—

He was there.

"Ah, there you are!" his voice was too bright, his smile stretched too wide. "For a moment, I thought you were ignoring me!"

You blinked. "Alastor, I was just—"

"Oh, I know what you were doing!" his laugh was sharp, too sharp. "You were lost in that pretty little head of yours! Drifting!"

His grin twitched.

"I hate when you do that."

From then on, if you didn’t answer immediately, he’d find you. No matter where you were.

3. When You Tried to Walk Away from a Fight

It happened once. Just once.

Some demon had been too bold, said something too cruel—and instead of fighting, you had turned away.

Big mistake.

Because before you could take two steps—

SNAP.

In an instant, Alastor’s hand was on you, pulling you back, his claws digging into your skin.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

His voice was low.

Dangerous.

"I-"

"No."

His grip tightened.

"You don’t walk away when someone disrespects you." His smile was gone. His eyes burned. "You stand beside me and watch as I tear them apart."

From then on, you never walked away from a fight.

Not because you were afraid of them.

But because you knew—

Alastor would always fight for you.

4. When You Said You Needed “Space”

One night, after a long day, you sighed. "Alastor… I think I just need some space tonight."

Silence.

His grin froze.

And then—

A chuckle.

"Ahahaha! Oh, darling! What a funny little joke!"

You frowned. "I wasn’t joking—"

"Oh, but you must be! Because surely—surely—you don’t think I’d leave you alone just because you asked me to! Ahaha!"

He leaned closer, eyes wild.

"You don’t need space from me, sweetheart."

His fingers trailed along your arm, light, possessive.

"You need me."

From then on, “space” was no longer part of your vocabulary.

Not because you didn’t need it.

But because you knew—

Alastor would never give it to you.

The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

You sat on the edge of the terrace, legs dangling over the abyss of Hell’s endless void. The sky stretched above you—red, empty, mocking. The city lights flickered below, distant, meaningless.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt small.

Lost in the nothingness.

You didn’t hear him approach.

Not until—

"Oh, darling…"

His voice was too soft.

The moment you turned your head—

He was there.

Standing a few feet away, frozen, his ever-present grin strained. His eyes—wide, glowing, terrified.

"What a dangerous little spot you’ve found yourself in!" his voice was still playful, still teasing—but his fingers twitched against his cane, his whole body rigid. "And all alone, too! My, my—what would I do if you fell?"

You blinked, pulling yourself from your thoughts. "Alastor, I was just looking at the—"

"The sky?" he let out a sharp, hollow laugh. "Oh, of course you were! Nothing concerning about sitting on the edge of oblivion, alone, quiet, lost in your thoughts..."

His breath hitched.

In an instant, he moved.

A flash of red. A rush of static—

And suddenly, arms were around you.

Yanking you back.

Dragging you away from the ledge.

The world spun, and before you could protest—

You were in his lap.

His grip was iron.

His arms—wrapped tight around you, chest pressed against your back, breath shaking against your ear.

"You terrify me sometimes, you know that?"

His voice was low.

The ever-present laughter in his tone—gone.

You swallowed. "Alastor—"

"Shh." His grip tightened. "Don’t—don’t ever do that again."

A tremor ran through him. His fingers dug into your sides, clutching, desperate.

"You can’t leave me again."

It wasn’t a plea.

It was a command.

An unshakable truth. A law of the universe.

Because Alastor had lost you once.

And if Hell itself thought it could take you from him again—

He would tear it apart.

His grip on you was unrelenting.

His breath—shaky, uneven, desperate.

His heart—if he even still had one—was pounding against your back.

"You can’t leave me again."

The words lingered in the air, heavy, suffocating.

You swallowed hard. "Alastor…"

He said nothing.

Did nothing.

Just held you.

And then—

Slowly, shakily—he turned you in his arms.

His hands moved to cup your face, fingers trembling against your skin as if afraid you’d vanish the moment he let go.

His eyes—wide, wild—searched yours, glowing red, burning with something raw, something dangerous.

"I won’t let you slip away from me."

His voice was low, almost a whisper.

His thumb traced your cheek.

"Never again."

And then—

His lips crashed into yours.

Desperate. Starving.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was raw, possessive, terrifying.

Like he was claiming you. Like he was branding you into his very existence, ensuring that no force in Hell—or beyond—could ever take you away from him again.

The static in the air hummed.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling, clutching, refusing to let go.

The kiss deepened, his breath faltering against your lips, as if he had needed this—needed you—more than he had ever needed anything in his wretched existence.

When he finally broke away, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his grin nowhere to be seen.

"You’re mine now, darling." his voice was hoarse, trembling with something dark, something devotional.

His lips ghosted over yours again, softer this time.

"And I’m never letting you go."

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nanami1chu · 2 months ago

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NSFW - Alastor x Reader

Alastor is the kind of man who first fucks you in the dirtiest way imaginable and then, after he's done with you, reaches into his shirt pocket and hands you a neatly folded handkerchief with an 'A' embroidered on it so you can clean yourself up a bit and not soil your underwear.

Because he is a gentleman.

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nanami1chu · 2 months ago

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VALENTINE'S DAY.

| Valentine's day. Alastor breed you. +18. |

Hell’s version of Valentine’s Day was, unsurprisingly, a twisted and chaotic spectacle. Demons bartered souls for affection, cursed bouquets dripped with something suspiciously crimson, and love songs were more like haunting hymns. And yet, amidst all the madness, Alastor had his own plans—plans that revolved entirely around you.

It started early in the day. A neatly wrapped box appeared at your bedside, sealed with a ribbon that seemed to writhe on its own, almost as if it had a pulse. Inside? Rich, decadent chocolates, each infused with a peculiar warmth, as if Alastor had crafted them himself with something more than just culinary skill—perhaps a trace of his very essence. A note accompanied them, the ink swirling and shifting like it had a mind of its own, whispering faintly as if murmuring secrets only you could hear:

My dear, do indulge. It would be a shame if your lips tasted of anything other than sweetness tonight.

Beneath the box lay a letter, folded with an eerie elegance, the edges slightly charred as if kissed by fire. The handwriting—beautiful, old-fashioned—spoke in Alastor’s unmistakable voice:

My dearest heart,

Oh, how the very thought of you sets my soul alight! Or, what remains of it, at least. You have bewitched me in ways I never imagined possible, ensnaring me in a melody so divine, I dare not change the tune. Every glance, every word, every heartbeat of yours is a symphony, and I would conduct it for eternity if you’d allow me.

Tonight is ours, and I intend to make it one you shall never forget. No force in Hell, nor Heaven if they dared, could pull me from your side. You are mine, my darling—heart, soul, and every sweet breath you take. And I? I am yours, in the only way a monster like me knows how to be—entirely, obsessively, and forever.

Dress beautifully, my love, for I have prepared a night worthy of your radiance.

Yours, always and only,

Alastor

The message sent a shiver down your spine—anticipation or unease, you weren’t sure.

And then there was Alastor himself.

He was unusually clingy today. Not that he wasn’t always somewhere near, but this time, it was different. His arm found its way around your waist at every turn, his voice laced with an almost unnerving warmth, and his eyes never left you. When you so much as looked at another demon—out of politeness, curiosity, or just by chance—his grip would tighten, and his smile would stretch just a little too wide.

“I do hope no one’s been trying to distract you, my dear,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a sing-song whisper as he led you through the streets of Hell’s twisted version of a Valentine’s festival. His fingers traced gentle, possessive patterns along your wrist. “After all, tonight is our night, isn’t it?”

But, of course, Hell never made things easy.

A demon, bold or foolish, tried to test the waters. A smirking incubus slid into your path, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Didn’t think someone like you would be tied down,” he mused, daring to brush a finger along your arm. “What do you say, sweetheart? Ever get tired of the same old radio static?”

The moment stretched long and cold.

Alastor’s chuckle was light, airy—deceptively amused. His fingers, however, curled ever so slightly, a crackling hum of energy vibrating beneath his touch. “Oh-ho, my dear!”, his voice was sickeningly sweet, but something dark pulsed beneath it. “Do be careful who you toy with. You might find yourself... out of tune sooner than you think.”

The incubus’ smirk faltered, but before he could react, shadows stretched unnaturally, curling at his feet like hungry tendrils. One blink, and he was gone—vanished into the abyss of Hell’s undercurrents, where Alastor sent things that annoyed him.

And just like that, the Radio Demon turned back to you, all smiles once more. “Now, where were we, my dear? Ah, yes! Our date!”, he spun you into his arms, dipping you dramatically before pressing a gloved hand to your cheek. “I do believe I owe you a most unforgettable evening.”

And unforgettable it was.

The private dinner was nothing short of mesmerizing. A lavish table was set in a dimly lit, secluded part of Hell, where the shadows seemed to dance along to an eerie, yet strangely romantic melody. The air was heavy with the scent of exotic, otherworldly spices. Candles flickered with flames that shimmered in hues unnatural to the mortal world, casting shifting illusions upon the walls.

Alastor insisted on feeding you himself, his crimson eyes watching every movement, every taste, every reaction. He poured dark wine into a goblet, swirling it slowly before pressing it to your lips. “Every sip, every bite… you belong to me, my dear”, his voice was low, almost pleading, but undeniably possessive.

He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before standing, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Now, my sweet, what’s a Valentine’s night without a dance?”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into a graceful waltz, guiding you effortlessly despite the haunting tune that played in the background. His hold was firm, his movements fluid, and his smile never faltered. “You’re quite the vision,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I’d say you’ve bewitched me, but, well, we both know who the real devil is.”

The dance slowed, his hand settling on your waist as he gazed into your eyes with something deeper than amusement. His lips hovered just above yours, teasing, waiting. The world around you faded—there was only him, only his touch, his warmth, his intoxicating presence.

And then, at last, he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with an intensity that left you breathless. His gloved fingers cradled your face, pulling you deeper into him as though he wanted to consume you entirely. A growl rumbled low in his throat, vibrating against your skin. When he finally pulled away, his grin was sharper, more dangerous. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I do hope you’re prepared… because this night is far from over.”

After all, Valentine’s Day was about love. And Alastor’s love was consuming, endless… and just a little... terrifying.

But eventually, the night had to wind down. And so, Alastor led you back home, though his arm never once left your waist, his fingers ever so lightly tracing circles against your skin. The air was thick with something unspoken, an electricity that neither of you wished to break. The moment you stepped inside, he pulled you to him once more, burying his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Mine,” he murmured, almost absentmindedly, his voice softer than before. He guided you to his room, and as you both settled in, he curled around you, holding you close as if afraid you’d slip away.

“Did you enjoy our evening, my dear?” he asked, his voice drowsy, yet still laced with amusement.

You hummed, nuzzling into his chest, “I love it!”

A satisfied chuckle rumbled through him, his arms tightening just slightly. “Good… because next year, I’ll have to make it even more unforgettable. But for now… let's think about the present.”

His lips joined yours in a hot kiss. His hands slide over the curves of your soft and candid body, to the point that his teeth grazed your lips and bit them. His hands found their place on your face, grabbing your cheeks and allowing the kiss to advance, to explore your mouth, while his tongue searched for yours in a shocking hunger. He dropped his hands into your hair, pulling your head back delicately to give him access to your throbbing neck, which he began to lick and bite, filling you with hickeys. His left hand slid down your dress, lifting your skirt, brushing the outside of your thigh and moving, very slowly, provocatively, inside. Your body was hot, your breathing already rapid. "Alastor," your voice was shaking, but you wanted more. "Shhh, my little one. Or they'll hear us," he whispered and covered your mouth with his free hand, but you bit it to free yourself. In his eyes a look of mischief and pleasure. Suddenly, two of his fingers ended up inside you. "Ah!", you screamed, and Alastor brought his jaw close to your ear, panting. This was enough to make you completely wet; his voice, naked, his pants for you alone, that no one has and would ever hear but you. He was yours. Only and damn yours. His fingers pushed inside you slowly, delicately, allowing you to enjoy the sensation. When your body relaxed, Alastor pushed deeper, touching your sacred spot and curving his fingers for maximum pleasure. Your moans were sweet and suffocating, intoxicating his mind, and Alastor had never been as hungry as he was now. His head pulled back slightly so he could look at you. Your lips were open and making sweet music just for him, your eyes closed and your expression… divinely, sinfully, lustful. His free hand cupped your cheeks, puffing out your lips. "Look at ME," he said in a firm, sinful tone. And you opened your eyes immediately, finding the two shiny rubies, fixed in yours. Something in Alastor snapped, seeing you like this… completely his. "I thought I could do something romantic, but I can't resist you. I want you, now," he said, sealing his hand on your hip very tightly and leaning into you, rubbing his erection on your thighs, you gasped feeling it. Alastor removed his soaking fingers from you and unbuttoned his pants, without removing them. He pulled out his cock and pushed it in instantly, your legs wrapped around his waist, tightening around his covered ass cheeks. He grabbed your hair with a fistful of his hand and you both gasped at the feeling of him inside you. Your walls surrounded him, tightened, welcomed him after so much waiting, wanted him… Your breaths were a mixture of hot clouds on each other's skin, your gasps echoing in the room. Alastor's grip tightened in your hair while with the other he held you tightly by your hip, pushing himself deeper and deeper. His eyes were still fixed on yours, blinding red, burning with the passion he felt for you. "Mon coeur… ah-, I… I can't hold back any longer," he said panting, his breath short. Her arms wrapped around the back of his upper back, pulling his face closer to the crook of her neck. "Don't," she whispered, huddling his face against her shoulder blade. Alastor clung to her completely, his hips moving faster and deeper, until he shot all his seed deep inside her. "Don't pull out, please," she said, her walls tightening around his cock again. "It feels so good. I feel complete when we're like this," she said, blushing and covering herself. "I didn't mean to," he gasped again, caressing her cheek and smiling lovingly, leaning in to kiss her. After minutes of post-orgasm touches and kisses, Alastor removed himself from her slit, and with one finger pushed his dripping seed inside. "Not a drop wasted, my love. I know it's crazy, but I want to breed you. I need to. I need you," he said, placing his hand on your belly as he kissed you again.

His warmth, his presence, his love—twisted, dark, and wholly consuming—wrapped around you as you drifted into slumber, safe in the embrace of the devil who would never let you go.

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nanami1chu · 2 months ago

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Valentine's Day Special

Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings

Alastor takes over your soul, deceitful dealings, mockery and satire, blackmail, Alastor always tests your patience, possessiveness, blatant teasing, Nsfw, masturbation (reader receives), wild sex, P in V, overstimulation, manipulation. Summary Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

You've spent weeks in this cursed place.

Hell is not as you imagined it. There are no eternal flames or demons with tridents, but there is constant chaos, a violence that hangs in the air like smoke from an endless fire.

Everything here is aggression, instinct and unbridled ambition. Most disturbing, however, is the certainty of the others: everyone is convinced that you don't belong here.

"You shouldn't be here."

You've heard it from so many mouths that it's no longer a surprise. You are not a murderer, not a perverse psychopath, not a soul doomed by rage or sadism. In life you were… normal. No violent history, no sins that scream eternal justice. And yet, here you are.

But if there's anyone who doesn't believe in mistakes, it's Alastor.

From day one, you felt his attention. Not just any watchfulness, but something more… dangerous.

As if you were a new melody on a frequency that only he can pick up. His smile, always wide and polite, hides a disturbing intensity when he talks to you.

And he always asks the same question.

"How is it possible for you to be here?"

"Have you never enjoyed violence?"

"Haven't you ever felt the temptation to break something… or someone?"

The answers are always the same. No. Never. Never.

But in every question, in every encounter, you sense something strange about him. A doubt. A fascination that goes beyond simple curiosity. Because Alastor is not interested in meaningless things. And yet, with you… he insists.

Until tonight.

It's early morning in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. You're alone, or so you think, until the sound of an old gramophone bursts through the air. There is no music, just the crackle of the needle against the vinyl.

A spectral sound.

You startle as you feel the static wash over your back and quickly turn on your heels.

Alastor stands there, at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in shadows that seem to move with him, as if he were an extension of his being. His posture is relaxed, hands folded behind his back, smile intact, but there is something about him that feels different.

Less theatrical, more calculating.

— Ah… what a lovely coincidence. — his voice drifts through the air, vibrant and distorted, like the interference of an old radio. — Just the person I wanted to talk to.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not because you fear him, not exactly, but because the air feels thicker, as if the space between you has shrunk without him taking a single step.

— Ah, what a surprise…— his voice echoes with the distortion of the radio.— I knew you were interesting, my dear, but this….

He takes a step toward you. There is no hostility in his gesture, but something worse, certainty.

— Your brother.

Your body freezes.

— Ah… how curious. — he continues, slurring each word with venomous delight.— There seems to be a lot more reason for you to be here than you've been telling us, doesn't there?

You don't know which is more terrifying: the fact that he has discovered your secret… or the fact that, for the first time, he seems to be enjoying you more than Hell itself.

The silence between you is a living creature. It throbs with electrifying tension, creeps through the shadows and creeps into every corner of the lobby. And he, of course, savors it.

Alastor advances with the elegance of a predator in no hurry to attack, only to amuse himself. His gait is slow, leisurely, a circle around you. Each step echoes in the air like the beat of a macabre song.

— Ah, but don't be so stiff, my dear.— His voice vibrates with an insidious sweetness.— It's not as if I've said something damning…. is it?

He knows what he's doing. He's having fun with doubt, playing with implications, not giving clear answers. But you're not stupid.

—You follow me? — Your tone is firm, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

He lets out a laugh of genuine delight. As if your question is the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

— Follow you? Oh, no, no, no, no…— He denies with an exaggerated shake of his head. — That would be terribly invasive! Outrageous, even! I just…got information.

His shadow creeps along the wall behind him, stretching like a wraith elongated by the dim light of the foyer. It's a subtle movement, but you notice it.

Your eyes follow it unwillingly. And Alastor smiles even more.

— You know, my dear… I've been wondering something curious for a long time. — His voice drops just a tone, just enough to become a conspiratorial murmur. — It's fascinating to see you wandering around this modest little hotel, always so quiet. Not a complaint, not a tear. Just existing.

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone takes on a tinge of false concern.

— But then, sometimes… you would disappear.

Your heart races.

— Where was our lovely little stranger going when she was going out so calmly?

He stops right next to you, bowing her head in an almost affectionate gesture. But you feel it, the way her energy bubbles around you, the way the light seems to weaken with his nearness.

— Imagine my surprise when, on one of those little escapades, I discovered that you were on a journey… — he clicks his fingers, as if searching for the right word. — …particular.

The air feels thick, charged with something more than electricity. Don't look away from him.

— Where did I go? — you ask, daring him to say it.

Alastor smiles, and his eyes sparkle with wild mischief.

— Oh, no, no, no, no… how rude of me to spoil the mystery. — His shadow on the wall moves again. Slowly. As if someone else is there.

You refuse to back away.

— Say it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts a hand on his chest, as if moved by your insistence.

— Let's just say… I didn't expect to find you in such a… dangerous place.

A shiver runs down your spine.

— Oh, but don't worry — he continues, leaning slightly towards you. — I won't say anything at all, but…

Something in his tone chills your blood.

— The demons you've been meeting with? — his smile stretches, showing just a flash of sharp teeth. — …well, they seem as interested in you as I.

Shadows stir behind him, and for an instant, the wall ceases to be just a wall. Something there watches you. Something with the same red eyes as Alastor.

And then, he laughs. Low, soft, like a whisper that slips into your ear.

— Tell me something, my dear… —He bends down, barely, with his hands behind his back. — How does it feel to be here, in this small hotel, waiting for a salvation that will never come?

There are no answers.

— Oh, of course! I forgot. —He taps his forehead theatrically, as if he's just remembered something crucial. — You believe in redemption, don't you?

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the feeling of danger digs into your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the sensation of danger sticks in your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

— But what a peculiar case yours is…— Alastor continues, without needing you to answer. — A sinner without sin.

He begins to walk again, slow, measured. The sound of his shoes echoing against the floor is the only thing heard in the hall.

— A little soul who, as far as we know, never killed, never stole, never reveled in violence or evil. Almost… a saint.— His laughter fills the space again.

— But, then… what's someone like you doing in a place like this?

You don't move. You don't blink.

— A mistake from heaven? — Alastor tilts his head, as if the idea amuses him even more.— Well, well, that's what everyone says. But… there's a little problem with that theory.

It stops right in front of you.

— If heaven has condemned you, then heaven knew something we didn't.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. He can't know.

He can't.

— Oh, but don't worry, my dear.— he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with unwholesome amusement.— because I already figured it out!

You can't help it. Your breath catches for a second. It's slight, minimal, but he notices. Of course he notices.

Alastor lets out a satisfied sigh and takes a few steps away, giving you space just to continue playing with the tension.

— You see… in one of my many nocturnal inquiries, I came across something very interesting.

The shadow on the wall writhes again, as if something in it had guffawed.

— It turns out that certain… drug-dealing demons have a very particular worker among their ranks.

No.

— A young sinner who, oddly enough, shares a certain resemblance to you.

No.

— Ah, but that's not the best part. — Alastor laughs again and snaps his fingers. —The funny thing is that his dearest sister is here, at the Hazbin Hotel, for the sole purpose of…..

He pauses, reveling in the suspense.

You have to control yourself. You can't react.

Alastor watches you with predatory attention, waiting for any hint of weakness.

— Now, my dear… — His voice drops to a venomous whisper — How does such a good and pure woman, supposedly destined for heaven, end up here… while her brother is in the clutches of some of the foulest and most dastardly demons in this place?

Your palms sweat. The air is heavy, suffocating. But you can't give in.

— I have no idea what you're talking about. —Your voice is firm. There's not a tremor in it.

Alastor blinks. And then, he smiles again.

— Oh, I love it! -He exclaims with mock excitement.— Liar and convincing! You know, if that's the way you were in your mortal life, maybe you did deserve to be here.

You take a deep breath, hold your posture steady, cross your arms, and stare at Alastor with impenetrable conviction.

— These are malicious formulations —you say, in a voice so convincing that you almost believe it yourself. —You don't have proof.

Alastor doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his smile widens, as if you are enjoying the taste of his every word. He watches you with infuriating intensity, like a man who has already solved the riddle and is just waiting for the others to catch up.

But you're not someone easy to corner.

— And what about you? -You ask, barely bowing your head.— A demon like you… with such a violent, horrible record….

You question seriously and firmly.

— What is someone like you doing in this hotel? -you continue, giving him no room for mockery. — Where redemption is the only purpose.

His expression doesn't change, but something in him tenses, just a little. A small discordant note in his perpetual melody of control.

It catches your attention.

—Are you seeking redemption too, Alastor? Or do you just get a kick out of watching us try?

Your ability to turn the tables is precise, surgical.

You know it, you feel it. But Alastor is not just any demon.

Instead of responding, he lets out a low, vibrating laugh, almost like a purr of static. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to one side, his eyes sparkling with even more intense interest.

— Oh, dear… — his voice is a venomous cooing- That's a fascinating question, but… do you know what's even more impresionant?

He comes a little closer, close enough for you to feel the overwhelming presence of his scent all around you.

— What deal did they offer you for your brother's freedom?

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet.

You can't help it, your body tenses, your breath catches for a fatal instant.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

How does he know?

How the hell does he know?

— Oh…— He whispers with insidious gentleness. — There it is

You don't need a mirror to know what it sees on your face. The first genuine trace of shock, the chink in the armor you had protected so well.

And Alastor, of course, loves it.

The way Alastor watches you, with that smile that doesn't falter for a second, with those red eyes that sparkle with almost childlike amusement, is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You must react.

—My brother…— you begin, keeping your voice steady, but making sure to add a note of vulnerability.— I cannot control his decisions.

Alastor tilts his head with exaggerated curiosity, as if he really believes you.

— But me, on the other hand…—vyou bite the inside of your cheek to reinforce your expression. —I do want to redeem myself.

Lie.

But it's such a well-constructed lie that it almost seems real.

You can't let Alastor discover the truth. That the original deal wasn't to save your brother from a deal, but to keep an eye on him and Charlie Morningstar.

You must not give him a clue.

Alastor remains silent for a few moments. Any onlooker might think he's considering your words, but you know that's false. He's not someone who just listens.

He analyzes, crumbles, savors every word, every gesture, every pause, finally, he smiles.

— Ah… how touching. —His tone is warm, melodic, but it has the edge of a razor blade. —You are truly lovely when you cling to hope such a fighter!

Your heart hammers in your chest. Did he believe you?

— And tell me, my dear…— Alastor steps forward, his presence flooding the space,— what would you say if I offered you a deal?

Your eyes narrow.

— A deal?

— Ah, yes. -He puts a hand to his chest, feigning absurd humility. —Let's just say… I could help you with your situation.

The words fall heavy on your shoulders.

That's the trap.

That's their play.

Your jaw tenses. No.

—I don't trust you.— Your response is immediate, forceful.

Alastor laughs. Not mockingly, but with an unsettling placidity.

— Oh? — His shadow twists on the wall again. —And why not? Am I not an exemplary citizen of this hotel?

— Your record speaks for itself.

His smile widens.

— You're right! My reputation is quite colorful. — he exclaims with absolute amusement.

— I won't make a deal with you. — you reply immediately.

— Ah, what a pity…—He sighs, theatrically. —I thought we'd make a fabulous team.

His tone is light, casual. But his expression… it looks nothing like someone who has been rejected.

Because he hasn't.

He's gotten information out of it.

Maybe not what he wanted, but something useful.

— You see, my dear… —Alastor leans slightly towards you, his voice descending to a softer, more intimate tone — I understand more than you think.

His smile doesn't move, but his eyes say something else.

— When you love your family, you'd do anything for them, don't you?

Your breath stops for a second, just a second.

But Alastor notices, and in his mind, the web continues to weave.

The air in the lobby becomes stifling.

Alastor no longer bothers with detours. There's no need to.

— Your precious brother is in a contract, I know…— he says, his tone almost kind, almost sympathetic. — But tell me, my dear … was it really against his will?

His question falls like an axe on your neck.

Your jaw tenses. An irrational impulse tells you to hit him, to shut him up, but you can't. You must not. You mustn't.

You grit your teeth, holding back the venom that wants to escape from your throat.

Damn you all.

The memory hits your mind mercilessly. Your brother. His eyes, sparkling with youthful excitement as he spoke of opportunities in Hell.

"Just a couple of jobs, nothing dangerous. They say they pay well. They say there are connections. They say I could get a better place here."

The words of those demons slipped with the smoothness of the sweetest poison.

Promises. Lies disguised as opportunities.

And then, reality.

The contracts, the blood seals, the curses that bound them for life. The traffic. The trafficking of souls.

The price your brother had paid was too high. And now, if you failed in this mission, he would be killed.

You bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you almost taste the blood.

But Alastor does not know this.

You take a deep breath, with absolute control over your expression. Your eyes, on the other hand, take on a calculated coldness, as if his question were irrelevant.

— I don't care what my brother did.— you say firmly.— I only know that I'm here for myself.

— Oh? -Alastor smiles, tilting his head.— Funny. You seemed more concerned about him before.

You feel the impulse to pull back, but you don't.

— My goal hasn't changed, I want to redeem myself.— you lie with impeccable fluidity.

Alastor squints, amused.

— You are very convincing, my dear…—His voice is a seductive whisper. — You really are, but… if you don't care what your brother has done, why does your heart beat so fast every time I mention him?

The blood freezes in your veins.

No.

You stand firm.

You take a deep breath and look at him sternly.

— I refuse to continue this conversation.

Alastor lets out a laugh, full of satisfaction.

— Oh, this is too hilarious! - His laughter reverberates through the hall, a cacophony of distorted mirth.

But you only think of one thing: If Alastor keeps digging, everything will fall apart.

You take a step, intending to leave the lobby. Or at least you try to.

Alastor doesn't allow it.

His hand wraps around your arm with a pressure that falls short of painful, but firm enough to remind you of something crucial: he won't let you go.

— Ah-ah-ah, my dear…— he croaks, slurring his words with amusement, — Our deal still stands!

Your body tenses immediately.

The grip is not violent, but the feeling of being trapped is worse than any blow.

Too hard. Too dangerous.

Your heart hammers against your chest as fury flares inside you.

Curse.

A thousand times curse.

Curse this place, curse Hell.

Curse all the demons that have turned your existence into a hell within Hell.

And above all, damn him.

The Radio Demon, with his eternal smile, with his melodious tone, with that mocking shadow writhing on the wall as if he enjoyed every second of it.

Your jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

But then… you reconsider.

Why?

Why is he offering you a deal?

Alastor doesn't give anything without getting something in return. And if he really believes what you've told him is true-that you're only here for your own redemption-then why so much interest?

Your gaze slides down the corridor, the exit you can no longer reach.

There is no escape, so you decide to change your strategy.

—Why? - Your voice is cold, but controlled. Alastor raises an eyebrow with apparent curiosity.

— Why what? - He replies.

— Why are you offering me a deal? -Your eyes are fixed on his, searching for the tiniest crack in that mask of eternal satisfaction.

He doesn't answer immediately, analyzing your answer for too long. However, you speak again.

— It's curious.— you murmur in a tone that is light, almost playful, but you do it on purpose.

— What is it, my dear? - Alastor blinks, still smiling.

—You're not one to make deals with just anyone.

His expression doesn't change. His hand is still on your arm. But you feel the tension, as if something in the atmosphere has changed direction.

— You're not someone who helps others for no reason.— you continue, leaning into him a little, just enough to play your own game.

You pause, enjoying the moment.

— You've never shown interest in anyone.

Alastor's smile remains intact, but his shadow on the wall twists strangely.

There.

You caught him.

You feel a spark of satisfaction in your chest. Not because you think you've won it, but because now you have something to play with.

— So tell me, Alastor...— Your voice is soft, curious, with an almost dangerous sweetness. — Why me?

You dare to smile, just a little.

— What makes you think I want a deal? Especially with a demon like you.

The shadow you've been staring at for so long is moving.

Not like before, not like a simple distortion on the wall.

Now, it manifests itself.

It is dark, meandering, as if spilling into reality itself. Its edges vibrate with a silent heartbeat, a formless presence, without a mouth, but with bright, piercing eyes.

You stare at it, frozen.

But before you can react, Alastor breaks the silence.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah... - His voice is still melodic, but there is something else now, frustration.

His fingers grip tighter on your arm. This time there is a small pain, uncomfortable, but it quickly disappears with the boiling rage inside you.

— Those details, my dear... —he leans in slightly, his shadow writhing at your feet— I will only give them to you if you tell me the whole truth.

Your lips open.

No.

Not even dead (for the second time).

Your other hand moves before you can think it, trying to pull his grip away with a sharp tug. Violent.

Alastor doesn't flinch.

— Oh, you really want to play like that? - His tone is almost amused, but the pressure in his grip increases just a little.

— Let go of me. - There is no pleading in your voice, only venom.

Alastor won't budge and neither will you.

It's a power play, a battle without retreat.

Both of you steady, both of you immobile, and between you, that throbbing shadow, watching with a latent hunger.

You look at it closely, you study it, and that shadow sees you in the same way, yet it disappears in an instant.

It doesn't slowly fade away, it doesn't dissolve into the gloom. It simply ceases to be there.

As if it never existed.

You blink, stunned, but you don't have time to react.

The pressure on your arm intensifies and, before you can launch another attempt to escape, Alastor pulls you towards him.

Your body lurches, the air ceases to exist between you.

Too close.

His face is inches from yours, his red eyes burning with unnatural intensity. The smile is still there, intact, but there's something about it that gives you goosebumps.

You can't move. You can't breathe.

You don't know if it's because of the tension of the situation or if there's something else, something hidden behind those bright eyes, something no one has ever lived to tell.

Because you don't know Alastor.

You really don't.

You remember the warnings, the whispers in the corridors of the hotel, the whispers of the demons who spoke of him as if he were a force of nature, an inevitable disaster.

Cruel. Sadistic. Unstoppable.

You remember how they mentioned his regretful disappearance, the mystery that shrouded his figure. And most importantly...

If Alastor catches you, no one can save you.

Your throat goes dry.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a slight fear.

You feel it in every heartbeat, in every second that Alastor's eyes pierce yours with an intensity that is pink with unbearable intensity. Your patience wears thin.

You notice it in the subtle change in his smile, in how his shadow seems to turn with an increasingly visible unease.

— Let's get on with our conversation, my dear... —he says, with that false politeness that only makes your skin crawl.

Your jaw tenses.

But he doesn't stop.

— Because, sure, there are many ways to look at this... — his tone is light, amused, but his grip remains firm — Maybe you're simply a sinner trying to make a desperate deal to help your dear brother... — he tilts his head, his smile barely broadening — but oh, what a problem! You can't make it that obvious, can you? That's why you play hard to get.

A shiver runs down your spine, there's nothing to say.

—Or...— he continues, stretching the word out with a hint of mockery, — maybe you're just a little rat snooping around this hotel, looking for information for those dealers he serves.

Your heart hammers hard. But then, Alastor smiles even wider. And says the third.

— Or... most likely...— he whispers, with a cruel softness, —you are here under threat. Someone has sent you. You want to know about me. My movements. My secrets. And more importantly...

Your eyes glow with something lethal.

— You want to know why I've disappeared for so many years.

The fear is immediate.

Your body reacts before your mind. A slight tremor in your hand, a flicker barely longer than normal, the air getting caught in your chest.

You have to get out of this.

You have to divert the conversation.

You have to do something.

— What do you want? - You don't say it forcefully, not defiantly.

It's a murmur, low, laden with little acceptance.

But Alastor hears it.

And for the first time, the shadow on the wall stops.

Alastor smiles in triumph .

Because now he knows.

Maybe not with certainty, maybe not with every detail, but one of his theories is true. And he's leaning toward one of the latter two. Or quite possibly both.

The fear on your face, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoided looking directly at him for an instant.

Charming.

His grip on your arm relaxes, but he doesn't let go. His shadow slips around you as if waiting for the command to do something.

— So, my dear... —his voice is a soft whisper, with an almost seductive venom — if we're going to talk business... what do you have to offer?

You freeze.

You knew it was coming to this, you knew it. And, still, it hits you hard.

Your mind works at full speed, searching for something, anything, a way out that doesn't involve giving away more information than necessary.

You find nothing.

Shit.

Your breathing barely hitches. You clench your fists, as if that might steady the subtle tremor that threatens to give you away.

You can't give in anymore, can't give him more than he's already taken.

So you lie, again.

—I have nothing of value to offer. —You say it fast, too fast.

Alastor cocks his head. His eyes glitter with mockery.

He knows it's a lie.

You need to pull yourself together. Now.

— Oh? — she sings, with false disappointment- What a pity. And here I thought I was a resourceful woman....

Her tone is playful, but you're challenging yourself.

If she's going to play like that, so will you.

—But if we're going to make a deal... —your voice is firm this time, holding her gaze with more control than you really feel—what do I get in return?

Silence.

— Oh-ho! How amazing...—he laughs, with that inhuman musicality that makes your skin crawl, — you seem to be more familiar with the deals than you lets on.

None of them respond. You can't give him any more than he's already deduced for himself.

Alastor takes a step closer.

You force yourself not to back down.

— Tell me then... what do you think you can get from me? — The question floats between you.

— If you really want a deal... — your voice is firm, without hesitation— tell me the terms. Or there will be absolutely nothing.

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

For a moment, he looks genuinely amused . As if the idea of someone talking to him like that would cause him a strange fascination.

— Why, how brave...—his tone is casual, but that dangerous musicality is still there, running through every word. —And what makes you think you can bargain with me, my dear?

You don't say it out loud, but you know it.

If I really saw you as mere prey, as someone worthless, you would have fallen by now.

You wouldn't be here, arguing with him.

You wouldn't be alive.

That means you have something. Some leverage, maybe not enough to win, but enough to keep you afloat.

— Oh, it's simple, honey. — his smile widens — I get what I want... which will only be known the moment I require it.

Your eyes narrowed.

— And me? you ask.

— You get an absolute favor. — he answers quickly.

— On equal terms?

— Exactly. — His tone is light, almost mocking. — Neither of us will be able to refuse when the time comes.

The thought chills your blood.

An absolute favor from Alastor.

It could mean your brother's salvation. But it also means that at any moment, he could ask for something unthinkable in return.

You analyze it. Minute after minute of cold calculation.

— Who delivers first? — you ask. But Alastor doesn't answer.

He just smiles.

And that tells you all you need to know. Your pulse pounds, but you reach out your hand.

It's a risk, but you take it.

Finally, you inhale deeply and reach out your hand, but Alastor pulls away before you can touch him.

You frown, puzzled, wrinkle your nose in disdain, losing what little patience you have left.

— So...when is that damn deal sealed? — you exclaim in a demanding voice.

— Soon, sweetheart...— you snap your fingers, — but first, we need... privacy.

Without apparent warning, Alastor snaps his fingers immediately, and darkness envelops you.

You don't have time to react, a scream forms in your throat, but it's too late. The shadows catch you, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear with it.

The darkness is absolute for an instant, suffocating, before your eyes adjust and a new reality unfolds before you. You find yourself in a room that defies all logic, a strange amalgam of decadent elegance and wild nature.

Antique crimson velvet furniture contrasts with vines snaking up the walls, and a canopy of dark leaves stretches into a swampy-looking forest.

The scent of damp earth mingles with a sweet, unfamiliar perfume, creating an atmosphere that is equal parts intoxicating and disturbing.

In the center of it all, like a predator in its lair, Alastor watches you.

— Welcome to my humble quarters, my dear.—he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

— Why did you bring me here? — you ask, your voice slightly shakier than you'd like. The place gives you a bad feeling, a visceral sense of danger running through your marrow.

It's the catlike feeling that characterizes it. He stops just inches from you, his gaze fixed on yours, intense and penetrating.

— Because, my dear...—he whispers, his voice a dangerous purr. —this is where important deals are forged.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know something isn't right, that the original proposal was just a facade.

— What are you talking about? —you demand, instinctively backing away.

— My real proposal, of course — Alastor replies, with a grim smile—. You see, I have certain... needs. And you, my dear, could be the key to satisfying them.

You're out of breath. You don't like any of this.

— I propose a new deal — he continues, ignoring your silence.— A more... intimate deal. You offer me one night of your time, and I, in return, will give you the opportunity to gain your absolute favor with no strings attached.

— One night? —You repeat, incredulously. —What do you mean by that?

Alastor tilts his head, his smile widening.

— I'll be direct, my dear. I want your body at my disposal... but on one condition.

You grimace in disgust.

— What kind of condition?

— I'll make you climax, with my hands only. No undue touching, if you manage to resist my attentions, if you manage to keep your composure and not give in to pleasure within a certain time... then, the absolute favor will be yours, without price or condition.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It is madness, an absurd challenge.

— But... if I fail. —you say, your voice barely audible, — what if... if I climax before time runs out?

Alastor's smile turns predatory.

— Then, my dear... I will take your body and soul. Both will be mine. But absolute favor will stand.

Silence hangs over the room, heavy and unsettling. You analyze the proposal, weighing the risks and possible rewards. It's a terrible gamble, you know, but the promise of saving your brother impels you to consider the unthinkable.

— When... when would I have to make my decision?

— Now, sweetness. —Alastor replies, extending a hand toward you. — Time is short. Will you accept my deal?

You hesitate, aware of the trap hidden behind Alastor's smile. You are not naive; you have listened to his conditions carefully, and the idea of being cornered, with no escape, chills your blood. But, despite your fear, you refuse to give in completely.

— The deal must be closed when what you said is done.— you reply, your voice firm despite the trembling in your knees.— Whether you make me climax or not, I will not give you my hand until then.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your audacity. He nods slowly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. He lowers the hand he offered you a moment ago and, with a swift, unexpected movement, conjures his shadow magic.

Dark tendrils coil around your body, imprisoning you against your will, immobilizing your arms and legs. You try to struggle, but the shadows are strong, relentless.

Alastor approaches, the fire of possession burning in his eyes. There is no trace of playfulness in his expression anymore, only raw, predatory intensity. Without delay, he begins his provocation. There are no soft kisses or delicate caresses. Instead, you feel the sting of his bites on your neck, a pleasurable pain that makes you gasp involuntarily.

His claws tangle in your hair, squeezing hard, tugging at your scalp. A moan escapes your lips, an uncontrollable response to the stinging sensation. Apparently, that's a particularly sensitive area.

Alastor slides his free hand down to your breasts, where he squeezes firmly. The pain is sharp, almost unbearable, but mixed with a current of excitement that takes you by surprise. A louder, more desperate moan erupts from your throat.

He grunts in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him. You sense that his patience is wearing thin, that he is on the verge of losing control.

Alastor leans into you, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispers words that are both possessive and provocative.

— You are mine, my dear. There is no escape from this— he says, each syllable infused with a burning desire that causes the heat between you to rise.

Your mind struggles to stay afloat, but his every word is like a fire fanning the flames in your body. At first, you had believed that you could resist him, that Alastor could not provoke any sensation in you. Now, however, you find yourself in a feverish state as he slips his hand under your dress, reaching for your pussy through the delicate fabric of your underwear.

With deliberate slowness, his finger finds the twitching bud in you, and a surprised moan escapes your lips.

— Is this what you meant? -you exclaim, disbelief mingling with uncontrollable excitement.

Alastor nods, his smile widening as he watches your body react to his touch. Again, he begins the assault, tracing small circles around your clitoris, stimulating your need with a mastery that leaves you breathless.

— Mmm... how about this? —he asks in a teasing tone.

You gasp, cocking your head to one side. The static emanating from Alastor only intensifies your feverish state, and you realize you are caught between desire and resistance.

Curses escape your lips, sweet moans that he visibly enjoys.

—No... I can't...— you murmur between gasps.

— Oh, but you really can. — he replies in a deep voice.— You just have to let yourself go.

His eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hunger as he increases the speed of his movements. Now, two claws work at a murderous pace, stripping you of your underwear and leaving you exposed to his will. You feel on the verge of fainting, but your mind has not yet succumbed completely; you want to resist the delicious sensations that pervade everything.

— Alastor! — you cry out, feeling the line between pleasure and pain blur.— This is not fair...

— Life is never fair, my dear— he replies in an almost playful tone. But you have chosen this path.

As his fingers continue their provocative dance, you feel each touch become a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body trembles under his control; his every movement is like a spell that envelops you further in his grid.

You look into each other's eyes in a moment of clarity; you both know what is at stake here. The internal struggle intensifies as you struggle between desire and the need to stand firm in your decision. But Alastor's shadows seem to take hold of you, and in that crucial instant, you feel pleasure begin to gain ground over reason.

You whimper as Alastor modulates the speed of his fingers, first fast, then slow, and finally, fast again, bringing you to the brink again and again.

Alastor maintains a strained smile, and one of his shadows behind him stirs restlessly, twitching with an intensity that makes your hair stand on end.

He growls plagued with terrifying static as he senses the shadow moving too close to you, as if it has the very intentions of possessing something of your body.

As you are lost in the maelstrom of sensations, eyes closed and little moans escaping your lips, you feel him shallowly slide his fingers through your intimacy, soaking in your arousal.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize the possessiveness in that gesture.

And again, he concentrates on stimulating your clitoris with violent intensity. The games are over. The pleasurable torture becomes a direct assault on your senses.

You feel your body tense, and Alastor senses it. He knows that you are very close to the edge, and with that information, he orders you, with a partially aggressive sentence

— Open your mouth.

Powerless, you obey. You open your lips and, before you can let out a piercing cry that announces your orgasm, Alastor thrusts his elongated tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan in a wet, intense kiss.

You both moan in the midst of that whirlwind of sensations, as the aftershocks of climax shatter you.

Your body shudders, and a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A broad smile, full of delight, lights up Alastor's face as he pulls away from you, leaving a trickle of saliva still connecting his lips to yours.

You feel exhausted, vulnerable, but also strangely satisfied.

In the haze of your climax, in the confusion of overflowing sensations, you had completely forgotten that you had to resist, that your soul was at stake.

But Alastor takes care to remind you at once, with a sentence that leaves no doubt that now follows the best part, at least for him.

— Oh, dear, you almost forgot, didn't you?— He says with a hint of mockery in his voice, though his eyes shine with an intensity that warns you that this is much more than just a game.— Remember our deal, my possession. You belong to me now.

You feel a slight pang of frustration for having lost, for having let yourself be carried away by pleasure, but also a strange shame comes over you as you realize how much you had desired this contact.

Alastor, with studied casualness, informs you.

— It won't be easy to take me completely, I know... but I know you will succeed.— he whispers softly.

You try to reply, to protest the unfairness of the situation, but Alastor already has you against the ground, immobilized once again by his shadows. You are unable to move, unable to escape his hold.

You gasp as you feel him on top of you, imprisoning you with his weight. From that position, his body looks even more imposing, his presence completely overwhelming you. Your heart begins to race as you feel strands of his hair brush against your cheek, and finally, you look into his eyes.

Ironically, you now find him almost attractive. The spark of madness in his gaze, the predatory intensity that emanates from him, awaken a strange fascination in you.

You mentally beat yourself up for even considering the idea. How could you find attractive this being who had manipulated you and now claimed you as his own? In a muffled voice, feigned really, you tell Alastor to hurry up, trying to hide the growing excitement coursing through you.

— Get it over with already. — you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

Alastor, hearing your demand that he hurry up, lets out a chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. You sense a slight feeling of helplessness growing in him, as if your apparent indifference is hurting him somehow.

He feels your response as a rejection, a denial of his power over you, and that is enough to alter his needy state. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere around you becomes charged with a palpable electricity.

Again, the fingers that brought you to climax return to your intimacy, slipping between your wet, throbbing lips.

— Look what a mess you've made, my darling. All this... just for me. — he says in a husky voice, almost devoid of his filter.

In the midst of provocation, you open your lips, almost exclaiming a sentence imploring for more or perhaps for mercy, but the words get caught in your throat when Alastor thrusts one of his claws inside you. It's not a delicate caress; it's a possessive invasion that steals your breath.

You squeeze Alastor's arm hard with one hand, your nails digging into his skin. With the other, you cling desperately to the creaking wood beneath your back, searching for an anchor point amidst the storm of sensations whipping through you.

—You like this, don't you? — Alastor asks, his voice a husky whisper that brushes against your ear. Admit it.

You try to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing you give in, but the intensity of your touches overcomes you. A choked moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to the relentless stimulation.

— No... shut up. — you murmur between gasps, trying to regain control.

— Shut me up? —Alastor mocks, intensifying his grip. —Why should I shut up when I'm enjoying your pleasure so much?

You feel how Alastor's claws move inside you, stretching and probing every nerve, exploring every sensitive corner. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a dizzying sensation that makes you lose track of time and space.

— Please... — you beg, your voice barely audible.

He stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours.

— Please what, my dear? — He asks with a hungry smile, — Please make you feel even more pleasure? Please make me take you to the edge of madness?

You know you're on the edge of the abyss, that if you give in any more, you'll lose yourself completely in his game. But a part of you, a dark and twisted part, longs to fall.

You hide your face in Alastor's shoulder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to give you away, as he continues his assault, deeper now, more relentless.

He has no mercy for you, but you know he is only preparing you for something else, something even more intense.

Yet, hearing you in such a way, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, leaves him without resistance. Your gasping breath, your trembling body, the slight quiver in your voice... all of it further ignites the fire that burns within him.

You beg, almost inaudibly, for this to end, not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure that begins to frighten you, because of the fear of losing control completely.

— Please... no more. — you whisper, clinging to his shoulder as if your life depended on it.

He shakes his head, without stopping his movement. You look up and watch Alastor's deer ears twist with every moan he emits, as if the very manifestation of his being is responding to your pleasure.

So, dizzy in the whirlwind of sensations, you move even closer to his ear and moan lasciviously, giving yourself over completely to the provocation.

Alastor squints as he feels a violent electricity run through him. That's when he pulls his fingers from you and, with a quick, almost animalistic movement, unbuttons his dress pants.

You are both still dressed; he has not removed your dress for the urgency of the moment, and neither was he going to remove his own clothes for the same reason. Impatience and primal desire dominate the scene.

His cock shoots out of his pants, throbbing and raging. You look at it, admiring and fearful at the same time, but before you can even have a say in what you see, Alastor lifts you off the ground.

He carries you over your arms in a vulnerable position, with your legs apart, wrapped around his waist. You feel him slowly slide inside you, preparing you for what is to come.

The initial stretch is uncomfortable, almost painful, but he allows you to get used to it for a few minutes, where you avoid looking at his face at all costs, embarrassed by your own surrender.

At once, he begins to move, with slow lunges at first, testing your limits. You desperately seek to hold on to something, but it is useless; the only support is Alastor himself, so you have no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his sack as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside you.

You moan, writhe and curse as the demon seems possessed by your inner heat. Each thrust is a declaration of dominance, a reaffirmation of his control over you. Pleasure mixes with pain, excitement with fear, creating a sense of chaos that completely disorients you.

— Who is in control now? —Alastor whispers in your ear, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

You do not respond, intoxicated by the intensity of the act, completely lost in the whirlwind of sensations that consumes you. Your silence is a defiance, a silent rebellion that further ignites Alastor's desire.

In response, he thrusts deeply and rudely against you, at first in an effort to force you to respond, to submit completely to his will.

But when he hears the whimper that escapes your lips, a sound that mixes pleasure and pain, his animal instinct takes over completely. He gasps in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him, as if your tears are the fuel that feeds his inner fire.

You feel his cock press even deeper inside you, twisting with unrelenting fury.

But before you can even look at him, before you can try to regain some control, he begins to fuck you wildly, unleashed. Multiple fast, deep, messy lunges drive you over the edge, forcing you to scream out his name.

You cling even tighter to Alastor, hunched over him completely, digging your nails into his back in search of a foothold. You beg him, desperately, not to go so fast, to have some mercy.

— Please... Alastor... stop, stop, please —you whimper between sobs, begging for a breath.

But he responds with even more savagery, ignoring your pleas, possessed by the need to bring you to the breaking point.

— I can't...I don't want to. — he growls against your neck, his voice filled with an urgency that frightens you.— I want you...I need you.....

Tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, mingling with the sweat that drenches your face. You moan and sob urgently, completely overcome by the intensity of the moment. Every thrust rips a scream from you, every rubbing makes you tremble with pleasure and pain.

You are on the verge of madness, on the verge of losing yourself completely.

— Alastor... Alastor! — you cry out, begging for an end that you know will not come soon.

In that moment of absolute vulnerability, you feel something change in Alastor. His fury transforms into desperate need, his savagery into total surrender.

And in that instant, he understands that, though he claims you as his own, he too is at the mercy of this desire.

Alastor, completely lost in the moment, unleashes dark, glowing magic from his body, chaotic energy pulsing around you. He hears you crying and begging, but he cannot and will not turn back. The point of no return has arrived; it is time to seal the deal completely.

The demon transforms. Red dials flare in his darkened eyes, his antlers lengthen, menacing, and a grotesque seam appears around his smile for a brief moment, revealing the madness that lurks behind his mask of civility.

— Now, sweetness, it's time to close the deal. — he exclaims with complete madness, each word echoing through the space. Give me your soul, your body, your devotion and your absolute loyalty.

He continues to thrust, his voice strained and tight from how wet you are, from the pleasure it brings him. The slippery echo of each movement reverberates through the room, creating an atmosphere of wildness and desperation.

You are simply lost, completely consumed by the sensations. At this moment, nothing else matters anymore.

Fuck those filthy pieces of shit that have your brother under threat. Fuck the plan to research everything about Alastor, his weaknesses and shit.

The only thing you long for, the only thing you want with every fiber of your being, is to come together with him, with Alastor, to melt completely in this moment of madness and passion.

You nod, completely overpowered by the sensations. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe in the midst of the storm raging through you. You moan a long "yes" against Alastor's lips, without closing the distance completely, offering him a silent promise of total surrender.

He, satisfied to hear your acceptance, closes the deal. A cursed green aura washes over you in the midst of the final onslaught, a magical energy that binds your souls forever. You cling tightly to Alastor as he drags you into the last orgasm, a destructive and messy one that awakens in you an irrepressible urge to kiss him again.

He didn't expect such an action, and surprise runs through him like an electric shock. With that simple act, with that unexpected surrender, he cums inside you with a tense grunt, releasing all the contention he had built up.

And as the aftershocks of climax end, you both remain in that position, breathing hard, trying to regain your breath and control.

Sweat drenches their bodies, their hearts beat wildly, and silence closes over the room, charged with a palpable electricity.

Your soul is now Alastor's; You are bound to him for eternity. And right now, in the midst of confusion and exhaustion, it doesn't seem like a lousy transaction.

And as the haze of pleasure begins to dissipate, allowing sanity to slowly return to your mind, a stinging thought bursts into your consciousness: your brother.

Reality hits you as you remember the reasons you had ventured into this dangerous game with Alastor. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued you until now have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of resignation and... hope.

Now, you no longer feel that paralyzing anguish over your fate. Instead, you cling to the certainty that you have done everything possible for him, that he has sacrificed your own freedom to ensure his survival.

Yet a new restlessness begins to grow within you. Will he understand your sacrifice? Will he understand the magnitude of what you have done for him?

Oh, you hope, with every fiber of your being, that he will truly understand, that he will not judge you for the choices you have made, for the price you have paid.It was all for him, for your beloved brother, the only tie that bound you to your forgotten humanity.

Alastor slowly pulls away from you, watching you with an indecipherable expression. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity, as if he is trying to unravel the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

— So...— he says with his characteristic smile, a smile that is now as familiar to you as it is unsettling. —Do you regret your decision?

You look into his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Even though your soul belongs to him, you refuse to give in completely to his dominion.

— No. —you answers in a firm voice, defying his gaze, — I regret nothing I have done for my brother.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your answer.

— How noble. — he says with a hint of mockery. But make no mistake, your sacrifice does not end here.— Now that your soul belongs to me, you have an eternity by my side.

— What more do you want from me? — you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— I want you to stay by my side. — he whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr. —I want you to be with me, to help me reach my goals. I want you to be my companion... in every sense of the word.

You feel a shiver run through your body. The idea of spending eternity at Alastor's side, bound to him by a magical bond, terrifies and fascinates you at the same time.

— And... what about my brother? — you ask, clinging to the hope that you can still help.

Alastor smiles, revealing the row of sharp teeth.

— Your brother will be safe, my dear. — he says in a voice that exudes confidence. —I promise.

You know you're trapped, that there's no escape from this deal. But you also know you have a chance to change things, to influence Alastor's plans, to protect those you care about.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a hint of hope, you take his face in your hands and kiss it, sealing your fate.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible to make a deal with him after all. You both won, he made sure of that detail.

He may have your soul now, but you still had absolute favor.

Yes, it was definitely a better deal than many you were offered all around Hell.

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nanami1chu · 2 months ago

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La Petite Mort

Alastor x femreader

Valentines Day Special

NSFW MDNI

TW: Thigh riding, sexual disgust, possessive Al

“Al…I’m horny.” You whisper in shame and embarrassment. Shrinking as your partners gaze slid up from his book to look at you quietly.

You always felt terrible. Feeling your skin crawl under his eyes knowing that the same fire that stirred in your loins, tightening your stomach and creating a thick copious slick that dripped out of you…..simply did not exist for him.

He had called it incomprehensible even. Finding no desire in one’s body that way. But, even with that being said. He wasn’t immune to being drawn to someone. To enjoying their company.

Further, he was still a man. Flawed by humanity’s early sin, making him covetous, possessive, and jealous. He wanted you, your company, all to himself. To claim you as so many other men claimed a woman.

Just simply not with the sexual strings attached so to speak.

But, while he could seperate the two ideas in his mind, you on the other hand he couldn’t. So you’d both worked out an acceptable solution.

His eyes silently dipped back to his book and he leaned back in his arm chair. Moving the book to one hand he patted his thigh in invitation.

His cervid ears twitched as he heard you sigh in relief as you climbed into your spot, straddling his thigh, careful to not move forward too much and risk grazing him…..there.

He resumed his reading, one hand tracing your hip gently as he began bouncing his leg.

Absently reading, tuning out your quickening breath and your hands falling to his knee as you ground down into his thigh. Turning the page casually as your panting devolved into soft whimpers and quiet moans.

A small part of his mind took notice of the growing wet spot on his trousers, his fingers twitching in slight distaste before he forced them to relax again. Bouncing his leg faster, his hand on your hip tightening as he breathed an annoyed sigh through his nose.

Trying to focus back in on his book. It really was the best compromise the two of you had found, because as off putting as he found this, the idea of you seeking pleasure from another man was doubly more so. Specifically because of-

His ears pricked, and his face swiveled towards you as you cried out.

Eyes falling shut, and nearly sobbing as you came. His eyes wide open, trained on you, his breathing nearly stopping as he watched.

Observing every minute detail of how you shattered….for him. His own interest thundering to life as he observed a face he seldom saw on others, the only comparable expression being souls before he snuffed out their light.

La petite mort….a mini death. How disturbingly apt a name. And the face you made during it was reserved solely for him.

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nanami1chu · 2 months ago

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❤️Alastor takes you on a date for valentines day❤️

(And makes whoopee with you afterwards lol) {Alastor x reader/ sex with meaning/ mild vanilla missionary sex/ fem receiving/ romance/ romantic sex/ slow burn/ Valentine’s special.}

This year was no different than every year previous. You had no plans for valentines day and had already gotten ready for bed (it was 5 pm). Once you settled on the couch in your pajamas, Alastor came bursting through the door with a huge grin on his face. He was up to something, you could tell. He stood directly in front of the tv and demanded you give him your full attention. You smiled and put your phone down. “My dear, I have something important I’d like to say to you.” He said, hardly containing his excitement.

You sat up straight and leaned forward. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately and.. well, this connection I have with you.. I’ve never had it with anyone else.. so, I was hoping you’d be my valentine! And let me spoil you with a romantic outing!” He got down on one knee as he pulled out the traditional bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You gasped and blushed. This was the last thing you were expecting of Alastor. It was true that the two of you had spent a lot of time together and you were more than well-acquainted. Alastor was quite the dreamboat, especially on his knees, practically courting you like this.

Your heart and mind competed in speed over who was racing faster. You sat there, stunned and in silence. Your non-response stung like rejection in Alastor’s chest. “Oh please say yes! I’ve made reservations for places I just KNOW you’ll love!” He said, as you slowly grabbed the bouquet. You were unsure. “You’re.. not messing with me, right?” You asked. While this is what you dreamed of at night, it was extremely out of character for him. “Of course not!” He stood up and snapped his fingers, instantly changing his daily suit into a fancier tailcoat. You blushed even deeper red. Wow he was handsome. “Now, I want you ready in an hour! I’ll be waiting right here.” He said, sitting on the couch and turning the tv off.

Without another word, you made your way to your bedroom to get ready. You were nervous. You quickly did your makeup, hair, and picked out your outfit and accessories in silence. You were still uneasy. While you wanted this to be true, Alastor was a trickster and a deal maker. You sprayed perfume and grabbed your phone. You headed back to the living room and met Alastor’s gaze. You saw him physically react to seeing you all dolled up. His hungry eyes were feeding on you as his cheeks flushed pink.

You met him halfway in the room. His hands were immediately on your body, feeling you up. He leaned into your hair and inhaled your scent. He sighed lustfully. Your skin was burning up. He casually kissed your neck. Your knees became weak as you nearly collapsed in his arms. You looked up at him with big eyes. His smile softened. “You look beautiful, dear.” He said. You swooned and giggled before collecting yourself and pulling away. “Alastor.. are you sure you’re serious?” You asked, insecurity present in your voice. He pulled you back in. “Yes.” He kissed your lips. You were speechless as he pulled away. “I want you. And I’m going to give you a valentines date to remember.” You stared up at him. That was the first kiss the two of you shared.

“Now come on, I know you’re hungry. First up is your favorite restaurant!” He offered his arm, which you immediately accepted and held onto. You leaned into him with a dazed smile as the two of you strolled the sidewalks of hell. He walked with pride, puffing out his chest; as you clung to his arm and followed along without a care. You knew he would protect you, because nobody wanted to mess with the Radio Demon. It felt nice to be able to basically turn your brain off and follow him blindly. He seemed proud to have you on his arm as he greeted his fellow overlords when they passed by.

The dinner you shared was damn perfect. He held every door for you, pulled out your chair, and ordered you dessert. While your favorite restaurant’s food was always good, Alastor is what made the experience perfect. “So sweetheart, I hear the local theater is doing a production of Phantom of the Opera.” You perked up in excitement. His smile grew softer as he pulled out two tickets from his pocket. You blushed and batted your eyelashes at him as he tucked them back into his pocket. “I just wanted to let you know, I do pay attention..” you listened. “..and there’s good reason for you to not give me your complete trust.”

You watched as he snapped his fingers and summoned a demonic document. “But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I want you to have a good time tonight, and you have my genuine word that my intentions are pure.” He said, signing the paper. “Did you just make a deal with yourself?” You asked him. “No. This deal states that if I’m lying, you gain full access to whatever punishment for me that you see fit.” He said, snapping it away again. You were speechless. He had really made the effort to reassure you in his own twisted way.“Anyway, I’m excited to see Phantom. I’ve actually never seen it live, have you?” He casually went on with the conversation.

You viewed him in a different light the rest of the evening. Little things that he would do meant the world to you. He constantly checked up on your mood by making quiet observations. Not once did he put you in a stressful or uncomfortable situation. The entire evening, he handled the conversations when anyone dared to question what the two of you were doing out together. There was also no way he was letting any man disrespect you. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll leave us the hell alone.” He said dangerously to the drunk man in the restaurant who would’ve followed you home, if you were out on your own.

Once the two of you were back outside after your meal, you hummed girlishly and clung to his arm again, without a care in the world. He chuckled under his breath. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, dear.” He observed. You blushed and smiled up at him. “I am.” He brushed the lint off of your back and fixed your hair. You felt seen. Maybe he was serious about this. “Well, our next stop is the theater!”

The show went as expected and you lip synced nearly every word. Alastor held your hand during All I Ask of You. After the show, he led you out of the theater. You shivered. It had gotten chilly during the musical. The Radio Demon immediately draped his coat over your shoulders and wrapped his arm around you as you walked with him. “Alastor.. I’ve never felt this taken care of before..” you said, showing him an ounce of vulnerability. He stopped and picked a wild flower. “I promise that you’ll never feel neglected again.” He said, handing you the singular small flower. You took it and tucked it behind your ear. You would surely press it into a book later.

The two of you walked through the nicer side of hell- the park. The bushes and trees were illuminated by the brightly lit full moon above. You swore you heard ragtime radio in the air. Alastor smirked, noticing your reaction. The atmosphere was perfect for a midnight stroll and a romantic moment. He knew this. He had planned this for weeks. Your attention was caught on the dimly lit gazebo off the trail. “Since when does the city decorate for valentines day?” You asked him. He smirked. “They don’t.” He responded, slyly. Your eyes widened.

He pulled back the semi-see-through tule curtain, revealing the setting inside. “After you, sweetheart.” He said, motioning for you to enter first. It was straight out of a fairy tale book. The curtains provided privacy, but also let in the fresh breeze. There were dim lights strung through the ceiling and a rainbow of different flowers up the sides and the walls. You took it all in. There was a tray of multiple different alcohol choices in the corner. Next to it, his radio. The ragtime smoothly transitioned into a jazzier song.

He joined you inside and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in. “What would you like to drink, my love?” You were over the moon. “Oh- I- well-“ you hugged him and smiled. “Whatever you pour is fine.” He gave a soft laugh and poured two half glasses of the same wine. “Why don’t you try my favorite first and tell me what you think?” He handed you your glass. You sipped it once and quickly sipped it again. It was sweet, but smooth. “I definitely like it!” You said, finishing the first glass within seconds. “Well, I’ll say you do!” He chuckled and poured you a different drink. “How about this one?” You tasted it. “Mmm…” You learned very quickly that Alastor had great taste in fine wines.

The two of you were 5 or 6 drinks deep. You leaned into his chest, blinking up at him. It was getting warm- what with the combination of the wine, the curtains, and the tension between you two. He casually removed his coat from your shoulders and tossed it to the side. The jazz had turned into a hint of a slow waltz, exactly as planned. He took your hand in his and smiled down at you, drunkenly. His other hand was on your waist, swaying you to the beat of the music. You blushed. You could tell that he put effort into this entire date.

You wrapped your free hand around his shoulder, only clothed with his fancy fitted button up. You looked at the charming man in front of you. His perfectly dapper appearance was becoming slightly disheveled, due to the alcohol. You loved his silly old-timey accessories- his monocle- his pocket watch- his bowtie. His eyes were on yours and you couldn’t look away. You had never seen this side of Alastor before and it was better than you could’ve ever imagined. Soon, your eyes started to wander.

The wine gave you the confidence to run your fingertips down his back and explore every part of his backside, basically feeling him up. You weren’t even hiding the fact that you were checking him out, biting your lip as you took in how well-dressed he was. His shirt, tucked into his flattering fitted slacks, was an even more enticing view now that you were drunk. You grabbed his hips and ran your hands over his backside, groping him. He gasped, but allowed it. His bowtie, in desperate need of tightening, was simply begging you to pull it untied. You did. You couldn’t stop yourself from unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, either. He allowed it, but was taken aback. You leaned in and kissed his neck, that was taunting you all night. You got the desired response. He let out a breathy, weak gasp and moan that you felt deep to your core. You hugged him and he hugged you back, holding each other and giggling. “Alastor.. take me home~” you sweet talked him as you played with his hair. He instantly teleported the both of you back to the hallway of the hotel.

The two of you definitely had way too much to drink as you stumbled into his bedroom. He locked the door behind him and eyed you up and down as you got on his bed. You bit your lip lustfully and signaled him over with your finger. He couldn’t hold himself back from immediately pinning you to his bed and getting on top of you. You, in return, pulled him in close by wrapping your arms and legs around him. You smiled up at him.

The heat between your thighs was unbearable as he pressed his throbbing erection against it. You had only fantasized about him on top of you like this, and now it was your reality. He kissed you as he gently rubbed the huge bulge in his pants against the thin fabric of your underwear. You continued to hold him tight against you, pulling him in even closer. It was obvious you wanted him. The Radio Demon never broke eye contact with you as he slid your underwear off and unzipped his pants.

You felt his warm shaft introduce itself to the drenched folds between your legs. The Radio Demon rubbed himself up and down your soaked slit, not entering yet. You recalled the conversations the two of you had throughout the night and ran your fingers through his hair. You shivered when his pre-cum soaked head met your aroused clit. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as he gave your clit the attention it needed. You threw your head back and smiled.

He couldn’t help but slide his hand between your thighs and go right for the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. Alastor lovingly rubbed it left and right with his finger. The waves of pleasure were washing over your body as your fluids multiplied and dripped down. “A-Alastor.. fuck me..” you begged him, running your hands over his broad shoulders. He didn’t need to be told twice. He smirked down at you and pressed the head of his cock against your entrance.

The two of you never broke eye contact as he slid his shaft into your slick sheath, painfully slow. You enjoyed every second as he nestled himself inside of you. He was soon balls deep, head pressing impatiently against the entrance to your womb, and face contorting in pleasure. You both gasped uncontrollably. You were united in the most intimate way. You cupped his face with both of your hands and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. The mumbles of ecstasy that he made against your lips were causing your walls to pulse and squeeze him tighter.

He began his thrusting, still going painfully slow. He wanted to make sure he treated you like the most fragile glass figurine. He had a secret fear of harming you, and did everything in his power to prevent it. He knew that he was powerful, strong, scary even. He took his time running his hands over your body and grabbing your hips, using them as leverage to push himself into you. He treated you with the utmost care and consideration, even though he was drunk. You clung to his shoulders, writhing underneath him as you curled your toes behind his back.

Your first time with the Radio Demon was an out-worldly experience. It was warm, romantic, and you felt every single inch of him. His name was under your breath at every thrust. Alastor was very vocal when he was in pleasure, not holding back a single moan. You looked up at the beautiful man on top of you. His tailcoat was long gone, thrown to the side somewhere; his slacks were somewhere nearby. His bowtie was untied and hanging from his neck, moving with him at every thrust. His fitted dress shirt had turned into a wrinkled sweaty mess, the top 4 buttons undone.

His eyes were on your face, his radio dials starting to become present. You could tell he was holding back, and you appreciated him being so gentle with you the first time. The next time though, you would make sure that you requested the sadistic, unfiltered, overlord demon to fuck you. You noticed he was even having a hard time holding back now, his tentacles and antlers peaking through. The radio on his nightstand emitted crackling static and the lights throughout the hotel flickered. “I- I’m close..” he whimpered in your ear. It felt incredible seeing this vulnerable side of Alastor.

Your ankles locked behind his back and your arms pulled his body flush against yours. “Cum inside of me~” you begged. There was no way he had the strength to pull out now. Not like he was planning to in the first place. His tentacles grew and wrapped around your waist as you heard eldritch wendigo squeals. You held him tight against you as he nearly transformed into his full demon form. He took one final deep thrust and spilled his seed into you. Your pussy throbbed as it got filled to the brim with his cum. Getting bred by Alastor was something you’ve only dreamed of. The two of you enjoyed the realm of pleasure that you created together as he stayed inside of you for a moment.

You were both out of breath as he rolled over by your side and scooped you up into his embrace. “Put your head on my chest, sweetheart.” You did. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into him. You were mentally in outer space as you got to cuddle with your fluffy deer man. You giggled in his arms. He smiled down at you. “You are so incredible.” He praised, playing with your hair. “..and beautiful.” He kissed your forehead. His face was nuzzled into your hair as he held you against his chest. “You mean so much to me.” He spoke softly, rubbing your back. You continued to cling onto him, fully processing what had just happened. You thought back to the deal he made over dinner, how reassured you had felt then. You feel even more cared for now, after his passionate love-making. You looked up at him, nearly half asleep, but wanting to kiss him again. You puckered your lips. He held you close and lazily brushed his lips against yours. You both fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s embraces; your faces inches away from each other.

{First NSFW post!!}

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