#Alastor x you

[redvexillum]

A/N: Please note! I'm still away with limited to no access to internet! Now, let’s talk about this story. A couple of quick notes: originally, I had a mini-series planned as a gift fic for @redfoxwritesstuff similar to this prompt. So, naturally, I decided to hijack the prompt and turn it into a little taste test of what you can expect from me next year. Also, fair warning—this one-shot is long AF. Enjoy! Also Kit said this was a very fluffy-wuffy story ✨️

SUMMARY: When Alastor summons a demon to strike a deal, he’s horrified to discover the entity is none other than his future self—a twisted, unrecognizable Overlord of Hell. The price for their agreement? Allowing his future counterpart a single night with you. But as the night unfolds, the deal unravels, and Alastor is confronted with a vision of his destiny and a choice.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, demon alastor, human alastor, period typical racism, reader is white for plot reason, p in v, cucking, big smoll sad, it made kit's eyes water lol, time travel, human!alastor is a jerk, human!alastor is bad with feelings, @safination i'm not here right now so you have my permission to lovingly yell at Kit.

When Alastor, your enigmatic and ever-poised boss, had called you for the first time early evening, asking you to meet him in his office, your heart thudded wildly, teetering between anticipation and trepidation. Alastor never went out of his way to summon you—it was always you lingering behind, staying past your hours, quietly soaking in his presence as he worked tirelessly. 

This was different. 

It felt intimate. 

You’d spent an hour preparing, choosing your best dress—a sleek, elegant number that hugged your form just enough to be alluring without being improper. A touch of makeup brought colour to your cheeks, but not too much; you wanted to be perfect, to catch his eye. Yet, despite your efforts, you knew how he would react. Alastor’s gaze was always detached, his smile fixed, his brow quirking only slightly when you adorned yourself in jewels or dresses that begged for attention. Still, you couldn’t help but try, craving even the smallest acknowledgement. 

But what bound you to Alastor wasn’t something you could ever flaunt. It was your secret—a dangerous one that you carried with trembling hands and a racing heart. The two of you were entangled in a forbidden affair, one that defied both class and the suffocating bigotry of your family. 

Alastor was beneath your station—a man your father would see erased from existence if he ever knew. Worse still, he wasn’t even of your race, a detail that would ensure not just scorn, but ruination. 

Despite the risks, you couldn’t quell the fervent pulse of your heart or the fire that grew with every lingering glance, every stolen moment. You loved him. But you would never dare breathe those words aloud. Love, you were certain, would drive him away, or worse, force him to sever your professional ties altogether. No, you resolved to bury it deep within you, content to simply bask in his presence, treasuring every fleeting second by his side. 

The taxi ride to the radio station felt eternal, every bump on the road a reminder of your growing tension. Your stomach coiled with a delicious, agonizing heat, your mind a swirl of fantasies about what the night might hold. Would his hands be on you? His voice—a low, sultry murmur in your ear? You had lied with practised ease to your mother, telling her you were meeting a friend, knowing the scandal it would incite if anyone knew you were alone with an unmarried man in the dead of night. 

You stepped through the radio station doors, your pulse hammering like a drumbeat in your ears. Each step toward his office sent a ripple of nerves through you, your hand trembling as you raised it to knock. The soft rap of your knuckles against the wood echoed in the empty hall. 

“Come in,” came the familiar cadence of Alastor’s voice, low and steady, but there was a rasp beneath it that made your skin prickle. 

As you pushed the door open, your breath caught in your throat. The world seemed to tilt, your vision narrowing to the abomination lounging in Alastor’s chair. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. 

The creature was grotesque, its twisted form a nightmare made flesh. Its grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing too many sharp, glistening teeth. Your knees threatened to give out as you stumbled back, a trembling hand flying to cover your mouth. 

“S-Sir,” you stammered, your voice a feeble whisper. Tears welled in your eyes as you pointed a shaking finger at the monstrosity before you. Your mind screamed at you to flee, but your legs felt as if they’d been turned to lead. 

And at that moment, all the fantasies, the yearning, the secret desires—all of it shattered, leaving you drowning in a sea of terror. 

In the chair where Alastor usually sat was a figure so utterly alien, so menacing, that your breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes widened, taking in every horrifying detail. 

The creature’s stark, blood-red hair fell in a sharp bob, the blackened tips framing his face with an eerie precision. Two tufts of hair atop his head mimicked ears, their softness betraying the menace of the antler-like bones that protruded from his skull. These jagged horns gleamed under the low light, their surface polished and unyielding. The skin stretched over his sharp features was a ghostly grey, as if every drop of blood had been leached from his body. His long claws glistened, crimson as though freshly dipped in blood, and their razor-like points promised destruction with a single swipe. 

His choice of attire was oddly elegant—a dapper, pin-striped red suit that hung impeccably on his tall frame, paired with a crimson shirt beneath. The vivid fabric clung to him, amplifying the danger in his already striking presence. When his gaze lifted to yours, your stomach churned. His eyes were an unsettling sea of red, the sclera and iris indistinguishable except for the black, slit-like pupils that seemed to pierce straight into your soul. 

“Why, hello there!” the monster greeted you, his voice dripping with exaggerated joviality. The sound was layered with static, like a distorted broadcast through a radio, dissonant and grating against your ears. 

As he rose from the chair, his height became even more terrifying. The tattered ends of his jacket fluttered slightly, like the remnants of a garment torn through battles untold. He was impossibly tall, towering so far above you that even Alastor’s impressive stature seemed diminutive in comparison. 

“You’ve arrived pretty quickly,” a familiar voice interrupted your spiralling fear, anchoring you for a brief moment. Your head snapped toward the sound, and relief flooded your chest as your boss came into view. Alastor was seated on the plush couch to the side, his elbow resting on the armrest, one hand pressed to his temple as though nursing a splitting headache. 

“S-sir,” you called out, your voice trembling as you instinctively shuffled closer to him. Every nerve in your spine prickled, the weight of the monster’s unblinking gaze crawling over you like bugs. He grinned wider—unnaturally so—his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light, the corners of his mouth stretching impossibly far, as if the act of smiling alone was tearing his face apart. 

Alastor rose fluidly from the couch, his presence commanding despite the monstrous figure looming nearby. With a calmness that baffled you, he reached out and took your trembling hand, his touch steady and grounding as he gently pulled you closer to his body. 

Your heart raced, your cheeks burning as his fingers brushed against your skin. You tilted your head up, seeking answers in his expression, but his whisky brown eyes were unreadable, his smile just as enigmatic as always. Why wasn’t he alarmed by the abomination in his office? 

“My dear,” Alastor purred, his deep voice resonating through you like a caress. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and your head instinctively dipped, your gaze lowering to his polished shoes. Heat rushed through your veins as your body unconsciously fell into a submissive pose, the practised habit of yielding to his authority deeply ingrained from the private games you’d shared. 

His chuckle was warm, teasing, a sound that both soothed and tingled your nerves. He lifted a hand, his long fingers tilting your chin upward with an almost tender touch. His smile softened, though it remained wicked at the edges. 

“I need you to do me a favour, darling,” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding, the undertones so addicting you felt yourself nodding before the words fully registered. 

“A-anything, sir,” you stammered, your voice trembling with unease. Instinctively, your fingers twitched toward him, longing for reassurance, but you stopped yourself, letting your hands fall to your sides. You knew better—Alastor disliked being touched without his permission, and crossing that line would only make things worse. 

His grin widened, a sinister curve that sent a chill down your spine. For a moment, it mirrored the demon’s unsettling smile, sharp and predatory. “Excellent,” he mused, his tone deceptively light. Then, with an elegant step back, he distanced himself from you, leaving a void where his warmth had been. You shivered, feeling the icy tendrils of isolation creep in. 

Turning his attention to the monster, Alastor tilted his head, his expression unreadable but his voice cutting like a blade. “You see, my little assistant would do anything for me.” His chuckle was dry, short, and devoid of emotion—a sound you were intimately familiar with. “So, do what you will with her, and we’ll conclude our arrangement.” 

The words struck like a thunderclap, dousing you in a cold wave of shock. Your body froze, your mind racing to process what he had just said. You turned to him, wide-eyed and pleading, hoping—praying—for some sign that this was a cruel joke, a test of your devotion. But the cold detachment in his dull, brown eyes offered no comfort. 

The monster loomed closer, his presence suffocating, his malevolent aura wrapping around you like a vice. Your chest tightened as fear clawed its way up your throat, and you finally understood. Alastor had summoned this being—a blasphemous act, all for some dark purpose. Was this your fate? Had he lured you here to offer you as a sacrifice? 

Tears burned in your eyes, the sting mingling with the sharp ache in your chest. Your nose tingled as you fought to hold back a sob. You had said you would do anything for him, but now the weight of that promise crushed you. 

Would you die for him? 

Could you? 

The monster’s low, guttural chuckle rumbled through the room, a sound that vibrated in your very bones. His eyes glowed with a hellish light, his razor-sharp teeth gleaming as his grin widened, promising pain. You hiccuped, your trembling gaze darting back to Alastor, silently begging him to stop whatever horror he had set in motion. 

As the monster drew closer, his towering form engulfed you. You whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut, bracing yourself for the agony you were certain would follow. But instead of searing pain, there was a gentle touch—a feather-light brush of fingers against your skin. 

Cautiously, you opened your eyes, your breath hitching as you met his gaze. The malevolence was gone, replaced by something softer, almost…tender. His grin had dulled, the sharpness of his teeth no longer as menacing. 

“My, I was such a bully to you, wasn’t I, cher?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though not to startle you. Gently, he lifted your trembling hand, his clawed fingers cradling it with surprising care. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, the unexpected tenderness unravelling the knot of fear in your chest. 

“Al…Alastor?” The name slipped from your lips unbidden, your voice barely above a whisper. This creature looked nothing like your boss, yet his mannerisms—the way he spoke, the delicate way he touched you—felt achingly familiar. 

The monster’s eyes snapped open, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Slowly, his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his glowing red eyes pinning you in place. His body shifted closer, his towering frame crowding you, but without the suffocating malice from before. 

One hand slid to rest gently on your hip, the other cupping your cheek with a touch so light it felt like a whisper against your skin. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles, brushing the warmth of your cheek as though memorizing every detail. 

“You’re as beautiful as I remember you to be, cher,” he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. The words were spoken as if they were meant for you alone, a secret shared in the space between your breaths. The tenderness in his tone sent a pang through your chest, your fear melting into confusion, longing, and something deeper—something that tugged at the very core of you. 

Your eyes darted past the monster, seeking the warmth and steadiness of Alastor’s familiar brown gaze, but he wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he busied himself with tidying the scattered books on the floor, his movements precise, almost indifferent. 

“I suppose you’d like an explanation?” The monster’s voice lilted with amusement, the tone grating against your raw nerves. 

You tried to speak, to demand answers, but your throat felt constricted, the weight of fear pressing your lips shut. What could you possibly say when confronted with something so unnatural, so wrong? 

The monster’s grin widened as he studied your silence, his laughter cutting through the tension like jagged glass. “My younger, alive self, I might add,” he began, voice dripping with mockery, “decided it would be a brilliant idea to summon a demon. And what a surprise—I managed to transcend time itself, back to when I still drew breath. Ha!” 

He chuckled, the sound lighthearted, as if he were recounting an amusing anecdote instead of explaining your potential doom. With an unsettling ease, he began to sway you side to side, guiding your body like a puppet, as though a melody only he could hear played in his mind. 

“W-what?” you stammered, your voice barely audible, the weight of his words sinking in. 

The demon leaned closer, his glowing red eyes narrowing as he held you in his gaze. “You see, cher, your dear father was planning to pull out his support. Said the new age of entertainment was approaching,” he purred, his tone lowering, his words curling like smoke around you. “He claimed the radio was a dying medium. Can you imagine?” 

Your heart stuttered, the implication dawning on you in jagged pieces. 

Before you could process further, the demon pulled back, his face twisted into an unsettlingly cheerful grin. “So,” he continued, his voice unnervingly jovial, “my younger self decided to strike a deal with me.” 

Without warning, he yanked you closer, your body pressed firmly against his towering frame. His claws trailed lightly along your arm, his grip firm yet almost reverent as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His sharp teeth flashed in a grotesque mockery of a smile as he leaned in, his words soft and poisonous. 

“Help him convince your father to keep his investment in the radio business,” he explained, “and in return, I get you—for one night. However I please.” He sighed wistfully, as if the thought alone was a gift. 

“I…” The swirl of emotions in your chest was unbearable—fear, disgust, betrayal, and a growing sense of dread. Your stomach churned, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The enormity of what he was saying crashed down on you like a tidal wave. Alastor had sold you. Sold you to this…this demon for a fleeting deal. 

Your voice wavered, cracking under the weight of your panic. “P-pl-please,” you whimpered, trembling in his grasp. “I-I can convince my father. I swear—please, just don’t hurt me.” A tear slipped down your cheek, hot and bitter, the first of many as your resolve crumbled into despair. 

Behind the demon, Alastor’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and impatient. “Think of it as another…act,” he said with an air of dismissal, waving his hand as though the entire situation was trivial. His arms crossed over his chest, his expression tight with irritation. “I’m ordering you, for one night, to experience pleasure with another man, ah, rather an otherworldly being. Surely, you love following my orders, don’t you?” 

His grin was forced, brittle at the edges, and his gaze was devoid of the warmth you had once clung to. The coldness in his voice pierced you deeper than the demon’s claws ever could. 

Something deep within you cracked, a fracture so profound it reverberated through your entire being. The tears came harder now, streaking down your cheeks in silence as the pain hollowed out your chest. Your voice faltered, swallowed by the void left behind by his betrayal. You were adrift, unmoored, and utterly broken. 

Before you could fully crumble in the demon’s arms, his voice cut through the storm of your emotions, soft yet laced with disapproval. “My, my, my,” he sighed, shaking his head with an air of mock disappointment. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the air crackled, and tendrils of shadow unfurled from the floor like living smoke. They coiled around Alastor’s limbs, binding him in place. 

“Hey—” Alastor managed to bark before one of the tendrils silenced him, curling tightly over his mouth. His eyes burned with malice, glaring daggers at the demon. The raw hatred radiating from him sent a shiver cascading down your spine. 

The demon tutted, wagging a clawed finger as though scolding a misbehaving child. “Tsk, tsk. I’m quite certain our mother taught us better manners when it comes to treating the fairer sex, wouldn't you agree?” he chided, the red monocle adorning his eye gleaming in the dim light like a sly wink directed at you. 

He turned his attention back to you, and before you could shrink away, his arms enfolded you in a firm embrace. “Now, now, cher,” he murmured, his voice a warm, honeyed drawl. “No need for tears. I dare say, I’m truly amazed. Imagine… falling in love with me, despite everything.” His head tilted, amusement dancing in his crimson gaze as his grin softened ever so slightly. 

Your muscles locked, your mind too frazzled to process his words. Your wide eyes remained fixed on Alastor, bound and seething within the shadowy restraints. “P-please, Mr. Demon, y-you’re hurting him,” you stammered, trembling as helplessness gripped your frame. 

“Oh, sweet thing, don’t you worry about him,” the demon cooed, his tone light yet edged with a strange finality. “And for the record, I’d prefer it if you called me Al.” 

“A-Al?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as you hesitantly turned your gaze back to him. 

“That’s right,” he replied with a theatrical flourish, a microphone staff materializing in his hand out of thin air. He stepped back, spreading his arms as though addressing an invisible audience. “Allow me to properly introduce myself!” His grin widened, impossibly sharp. “I am Alastor—the Radio Demon. I hail from the future, though I come bearing tidings from Hell itself! It's a pleasure to meet you, again! Haha!” His laughter echoed, rich and chilling. “But for you, my darling, you may simply call me Al. I much prefer it that way.” 

His words sank in like stones, heavy and impossible. This demon… this creature who had embraced you so intimately… was Alastor. Your Alastor. The very thought clawed at your sanity, pulling you deeper into the pit of madness. 

“How… how is this possible?” you whispered, the question barely audible over the hammering of your heart. 

His response was another snap of his fingers, the sound sharp and commanding. The plush sofa in the corner of the room shimmered and transformed, warping into a small, inviting bed. 

“Anything is possible with a little magic, darling,” he said with a devilish grin, his hand slipping to the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed. His voice dropped, a velvet purr curling through his words. “And my time here is fleeting. So, cher, allow me this one indulgence—to feel you once more, as I’ve longed to do.” 

“Y-you’re Alastor,” you murmured, your voice soft, trembling as your mind wavered on the precipice of disbelief and reluctant acceptance. It felt surreal, like a twisted fairy tale brought to life. 

“The one and only,” he declared with a radiant grin that sent a jolt of familiarity straight to your heart. For a moment, your breath hitched. That smile—it was Alastor’s, unmistakably his. The way his lips curled, the self-assured confidence radiating from him—it mirrored the expression you’d seen so many times after his broadcasts, a smile brimming with satisfaction and happiness. 

But now, that smile belonged to this—to him. 

As he followed you to the bed, his movements unhurried yet purposeful, you found yourself sinking into the mattress, your body trembling with a cascade of emotions you couldn’t contain. The instant he sat beside you, you threw your arms around his neck, clutching him as though he might vanish into smoke if you let go. Pressing your face against his chest, you whispered, voice quivering under the weight of your heartache, “W-why are you in Hell?” 

Tears spilled freely, soaking into the fine fabric of his jacket. Your words, soft and trembling, carried a deeper pain than you realized. “Why?” you repeated, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your blurred vision making his grin all the more surreal. 

The concept of Hell clawed at your mind—a place of endless torment, unimaginable cruelty, and eternal suffering. The thought of Alastor, your Alastor, enduring such a fate twisted your stomach into knots. Your hands, trembling with hesitation and sorrow, rose to frame his face. The grin on his lips remained unchanged, unfaltering, though its presence felt like a knife plunged into your chest. 

“I-is it scary?” you asked, voice breaking under the weight of your despair. “Is it… painful?” The tears came harder now, spilling like a deluge, each one carrying another fragment of your breaking heart. “Is there…” you hiccuped, searching his eyes for something, anything, “…anything I can do? To…to save your soul?” 

For a moment, he froze, his crimson eyes fixed on you. Then his lips parted, and laughter spilled forth—a sound both melodic and unhinged, a discordant symphony that sent shivers rippling across your skin. 

“Oh, my!” he exclaimed between peals of manic laughter, his head tilting unnaturally. With a sickening crack, his neck twisted in a full circle, the motion so grotesque you flinched. He turned his warped grin toward the immobilized Alastor, bound by shadows in the corner of the room. “She doesn’t know?” he howled, the sound echoing as though bouncing off invisible walls. “Hahaha! She doesn’t know! Oh, this is rich!” 

You stared, frozen in both awe and horror, as the man you loved unravelled into something far stranger, far darker. The resemblance to Alastor was undeniable—the mannerisms, the way he carried himself—but there was something else, too. Something foreign, something… wrong. He was a blurred reflection, a distorted echo of the man you thought you knew. 

Without warning, his head snapped back to face you. Before you could process the movement, his lips descended on yours, the suddenness of it stealing your breath. You stiffened, your body rigid with shock. But then his lips moved, tender and familiar, in the exact way Alastor used to kiss you. The familiarity melted your resolve, and against your better judgment, your fingers brushed against the lapels of his jacket. 

His hand came to rest on yours, gently clasping your trembling fingers. 

“Cher,” he murmured, his voice a soft, aching melody. His lips brushed against yours again, as though afraid this moment would slip away. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, cher,” he whispered, the raw longing in his tone unravelling something deep inside you. 

He pressed you back onto the bed, his weight settling over you like a ghost of memories long past. If you closed your eyes, you could almost convince yourself it was him—your Alastor. It was so easy to believe it was his hands, his voice, his breath against your skin. 

“I’m not… with you...down there?” you whispered, your voice breaking as he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, breaths mingling. 

For a fleeting moment, something unspoken flickered in his crimson eyes—pain. Then it was gone, replaced by his ever-present grin. “Of course not, silly girl,” he said, his voice laced with a deceptive lightness. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, his touch gentle despite the shadows that clung to him. 

“Your soul, of course, went to Heaven,” he continued with a wistful chuckle. “How could it not? You’re far too pure, too precious for the likes of Hell.” His words were tender, yet they carried an undertone of something far darker. Something that left you both mesmerized and terrified. 

The way Al held you was intimate, possessive, and far too tender to be anything other than the embrace of a lover. It was as though, in some distant future, you and he were entwined in a life you could only dream of. 

Could it be true? 

Your gaze shifted to Alastor, who was furiously struggling against the shadow tendrils pinning him in place. The sight of his thrashing form, his narrowed eyes burning with frustration, sent your heart pounding. The sound of your pulse roared in your ears as conflicting thoughts raced through your mind. 

Perhaps, in the future, the world had changed—laws once meant to keep you apart finally lifted. Perhaps Alastor had grown to see you, not as an assistant, but as someone worthy of his love. Perhaps, together, you’d built a life, a family, and shared moments of happiness you could scarcely imagine now. 

But then, a darker thought surfaced. Perhaps Alastor had died, his soul condemned to Hell. If that was true, and this demon before you was proof of that fate, would your future self feel the same unbearable ache at being parted from him for eternity? 

Tears welled in your eyes as the thought took root, threatening to undo you entirely. You buried your face against Al’s chest, his warmth anchoring you as you fought to calm the whirlwind of emotions. Hugging him tightly, you slowed your breathing, trying to chase away the storm of uncertainty. 

“I…” you started, but your voice faltered. You cast a glance back at Alastor, still bound and silenced, his struggle relentless. The words caught in your throat, and you pressed your lips tightly together, unwilling to voice your fears. 

“What’s wrong, cher?” Al whispered against your hair, his voice soothing and laced with curiosity. He began peppering light kisses across your forehead and hairline, each touch feather-soft yet disarming. “Is it something you don’t want my present self to hear?” 

Your body tensed in surprise. How had he read your thoughts so clearly? 

He grinned mischievously, a spark of devilish delight flashing in his crimson eyes. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the shadow tendrils tightened around Alastor’s head, shrouding his eyes and ears. “There. Now he can’t see or hear us!” Al giggled, his claws tracing idle patterns down your arm before moving to the buttons of your dress. 

“I never told you how much I admired your dresses, did I, cher?” he murmured, his tone dipping low, intimate. 

“W-what?” you stammered, breath hitching as his fingers worked with slow precision, unfastening each button one by one. 

“You always tried so hard to catch my attention,” he said, his voice husky, tinged with regret. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a tender kiss. “And I, stubborn fool that I am, ignored the signs—despite my obvious interest in you.” 

Another kiss landed on your other collarbone, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. His words sent a shiver coursing through you. “Have we made love yet, cher?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Love? The word echoed in your mind, foreign yet tantalizing. You and Alastor had shared moments, stolen kisses, and even acts of passion, but love…? You weren’t sure if anything between you had ever been tender enough to call it that. 

Your silence was answer enough. Al hummed softly, his lips quirking upward. “I suppose that tells me where I am in the timeline,” he mused, his fingers gliding over your skin as he peeled your dress away. 

His sharp inhale was audible, his hands reverent as they traced your bare form. He cupped the curve of your breast with a featherlight touch, his claws grazing your skin before sliding down to rest at your navel. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, and your heart ached at the dichotomy between his tenderness and the sharp edge of danger he exuded. 

“Such beauty,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, filled with awe and longing. “How I must have adored you…ah, How I adore you even now...” His words trailed off, his lips returning to claim yours in a kiss that was soft, searching, and impossibly bittersweet. 

You stifled a moan, the sound barely escaping your lips as your heels dug into the mattress. Heat coiled low in your belly, but a nagging thought held you in place. If this truly was Alastor, you knew how much he relished control. Surely, he’d expect you to stay still, waiting for his next command. 

“Does this form disgust you, cher?” Al’s voice sliced through your thoughts, low and rich, dripping with desire. 

His words startled you, and for a moment, you were lost in the depths of his crimson gaze. Disgust? The notion was absurd. If anything, this form was fascinating—intoxicating. Your mind had already accepted that this demon was, in essence, Alastor, and now you couldn’t help but marvel at him. The fiery red of his hair spoke of passion, his sharp smile held a mischievous allure, and those ruby-like eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger. 

“N-no,” you stammered, heat rising to your cheeks. “I-I just know you like to take control… I didn’t want to upset you or make you stop.” 

His ministrations paused, his claws resting against your bare hips, sending shivers racing along your skin. The top of your dress hung open, exposing your brasserie, while the fabric was bunched around your hips, leaving you vulnerable beneath his touch. He hovered, his knees pressing close to the apex of your thighs, radiating heat and tension. 

“What is it you wanted to ask me, cher?” Al inquired, his voice soft yet commanding, drawing you into the moment. “My present self won’t hear a thing. This might be your only chance to know.” 

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. You’d heard countless tales of how meddling with knowledge of the future often led to ruin. But this wasn’t about destiny or fate—this was about Alastor, the man whose stoic mask never faltered, whose true heart always remained hidden behind an impenetrable wall. 

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you… love me? In the future?” 

The question hung in the air, fragile and trembling, as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. You dared to meet his gaze, bracing yourself for his response. 

Al tilted his head, his ear-like tufts flopping to one side, his crimson eyes narrowing with an unreadable glint. Then, with a soft chuckle, he countered, “Do you love me now?” 

The breath hitched in your throat, but you forced yourself to nod, summoning every ounce of bravery to seize this fleeting moment of truth. “Y-yes,” you confessed, your voice trembling yet resolute. “I… I do.” 

For a heartbeat, silence enveloped the room, thick and heavy with unspoken emotion. Then, Al’s expression softened, his grin shifting into something that resembled bittersweet longing. 

“There isn’t a single day I haven’t thought of you while in Hell, cher,” he murmured, his voice rich with a reverence that sent your heart spiralling. His claws traced a slow, deliberate path along the edges of your underwear, the sensation both thrilling and overwhelming. 

“Not a single day,” he whispered, his words a tender confession as he gently peeled the fabric away. His touch, so soft yet searing, seemed to convey every unspoken emotion, each one wrapping around you like a vice, leaving you breathless and yearning. 

You weren’t sure why the tears came, hot and relentless, welling in your eyes until they spilled over. A sudden ache bloomed in your chest, overwhelming and raw. Without thinking, your trembling hands flew to cover your lips, muffling a quiet sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered shakily. “I... I didn’t mean to cry.” 

The words felt inadequate, your voice small beneath the weight of the moment. You weren’t even certain why you were apologizing—perhaps because you’d never heard him like this before. Alastor’s voice, always sharp and full of confidence, now carried a vulnerability so deep it left you breathless. That softness, that tinge of hurt, was foreign and startling, and it wrapped around your heart, squeezing until it ached for him. 

“Shh,” Al soothed, his voice low and caring as he leaned in to kiss away your tears, each press of his lips feather-light and reverent. “There’s no need for apologies, cher. Just let me...stay with you.” 

His words were a promise, spoken with a quiet urgency that made your breath hitch. His claws slid beneath the lace of your bra, cupping your breast with a surprisingly warm touch, even gentle. His fingers splayed across your skin, firm yet careful, as though he feared breaking you. 

A soft sound escaped you when you felt the faint tug of a zipper being undone. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and when he pressed the heated length of himself against your core, you inhaled sharply, your back arching ever so slightly. His pace was slow, almost excruciating, as he guided himself inside, inch by inch, allowing you to feel the stretch, the fullness, the raw intimacy of the act. 

“Ah,” you exhaled, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as he continued, filling you completely. The pleasure was deep and consuming, his every movement precise, yet tender in a way that left you trembling beneath him. 

A sudden snap echoed in the room, and Alastor—the present Alastor—gasped loudly, finally free of the shadows that had silenced him. “You bastard,” he snarled at his future self, his voice hoarse from restraint. “You absolute—” 

“This is how you treat her,” Al murmured with a grin, his tone tinged with amusement, though his attention never wavered from you. He shifted his hips, filling you to the hilt, and a soft cry of pleasure tumbled from your lips, mingling with a moan that seemed to echo in the dimly lit room. 

He groaned above you, the sound rich and guttural, his breath hot against your skin as he nuzzled against the crook of your neck. Each movement made you keenly aware of him, the way he stretched and filled you, the way his body seemed to fit yours so perfectly. His claws brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as he whispered, “Oh, look at you, my cher. Look how beautifully you take me.” 

This was unlike anything you’d ever experienced with Alastor before. It wasn’t rough or commanding, nor was it tinged with the sharp edges of teasing and denial. This was different—soft, intimate, and achingly...gentle. It was as though, for the first time, you weren’t simply giving yourself to him; you were sharing something mutual, something sacred. 

“Wrap those lovely legs around me, cher,” Al murmured, his voice low and intoxicating. You obeyed without hesitation, curling your legs around his waist and pulling him even closer. The sensation was overwhelming, his movements sending waves of pleasure that left you gasping, clutching at his jacket as if it were the only thing grounding you. 

He captured your lips in a kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a dance as he swallowed every moan and whimper that escaped you. The intensity built rapidly, pleasure coiling tightly in your core until you felt as though you might shatter from it. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped against his lips, the words barely audible. “I’m so close, I don’t think I can hold back.” 

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket, clutching it desperately as you tried to hold on, to prolong the moment just a little longer. But the pleasure was relentless, building higher and higher, until it consumed every thought, every sensation, leaving only him—only this.

Al chuckled warmly, a sound rich and velvety, like dark chocolate melting against your ears. It carried a hint of mischief, yet something darker lingered beneath it. “See this?” His voice was smooth, teasing as he turned to face Alastor. 

Your gaze followed, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks as your eyes landed on the unmistakable bulge pressing against the front of Alastor's pants. 

Alastor’s lips were pressed into a thin, trembling line, his expression a storm of rage and humiliation. His dark eyes burned with fury, darting between you and his future self. “Just get it done and over with,” he growled, his voice taut with barely contained anger. He thrashed against the shadowy tendrils that restrained him, but they held him fast. 

“Oh, but we have all night,” Al sang, his voice almost melodic, a sinister contrast to the tension in the room. “Tell me, how many times have you robbed her of her pleasure?” 

Before you could process his words, Al shifted your position with a surprising ease. You found yourself facing Alastor, your back pressed flush against Al’s chest, your legs spread wide and entirely exposed. Heat flared across your skin, searing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. 

“See this?” Al murmured, his voice low as his fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your face toward Alastor. Your heart pounded, your breath hitching as Al’s grip anchored you in place. 

You gasped as he entered you again, deep and relentless, stealing your breath with every thrust. “Oh—oh, A-Al,” you cried, trembling against his unyielding hold. 

Al grunted softly, his lips curling into a smile. “Look at her,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “See how beautiful she is, wrought with pleasure.” He thrust into you harder, the lewd, wet sounds of your joining filling the space. 

Alastor’s expression flickered—anger, something unreadable, then averted eyes. He bit his lip harshly, a deep flush creeping up his neck, betraying his growing frustration. 

“You’re close, cher,” Al whispered against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I can feel it—the way you clench around me, so tight, so perfect.” 

He was right. The tension coiled within you, sharp and demanding, pulling you toward the edge. 

You tried to fight it, to hold back, but it was futile. A tidal wave of ecstasy crashed over you, tearing a cry from your lips as your body trembled with the force of your climax. Al’s hands guided you through it, his movements unrelenting as he drew out every last shiver and quake of pleasure. 

As the haze of your release began to fade, your breath came in ragged gasps. Al held your face gently, his thumb brushing your flushed cheek. Your eyes flicked to Alastor, catching the way his hips moved almost imperceptibly, his lips parted, panting slightly as his gaze fixated on you. His anger seemed momentarily forgotten, replaced by something darker, something needy. 

“How many times have you robbed her of this?” Al’s voice was soft, but his words cut sharply. He kissed your cheek, his cock still nestled deep within you. “Shall I right your wrongs? For every pleasure you denied her, I’ll give her double.” His chuckle was light, teasing, and yet his tone carried a promise of endless indulgence. 

Your body trembled at the thought, your mind spinning. Could you even withstand more? The lingering pulse of your release still coursed through you, leaving you breathless and yearning. 

“Shut up,” Alastor spat, his voice thick with venom. “Are you done yet? How much more of this absurdity must I endure?” He turned his head sharply, his expression a mask of disgust, but there was something unspoken in his eyes—a flicker of hurt that struck a chord within you. 

It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. 

“Typical,” Alastor sneered, his anger boiling over. His lips curled into a cruel grin. “I always knew you’d open your legs for—” 

Before he could finish, a shadow tendril coiled around his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence. His words dissolved into a strangled gasp as his body stiffened. 

“Alastor!” you cried out, panic flaring as you instinctively tried to move toward him. 

But Al pulled you back against his chest, his arms locking around you. “Don’t fret, cher,” he said smoothly, snapping his fingers. The tendrils vanished instantly, and Alastor collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. 

You watched as he rolled onto his side, spittle dripping from his lips as he sucked in desperate gulps of air. Your chest ached at the sight of him, weakened and furious all at once, but before you could speak, Al’s lips brushed your temple, his voice soft and unnervingly gentle. 

“Some wounds, cher,” he murmured, “are better left to fester.” 

Al’s hips began to move again, a slow and deliberate grind that sent jolts of sensation through your overstimulated body. You bit your lip, trying in vain to stifle the shameful moans that spilled from your throat. Every inch of him seemed to ignite a fire within you.

“Don’t ever,” Al murmured, his voice dropping into a cold, cutting tone that sent a shiver racing down your spine, “disrespect my woman like that.” 

The words were like a proclamation, and before you could process them, his hand tightened around your breast, his movements becoming forceful and unrelenting. His hips snapped against yours, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin, each thrust pushing you closer to another crescendo of pleasure. 

Al’s lips found your neck, searing hot kisses trailing along your sensitive skin before his hand guided your face to meet his. He claimed your lips with a ferocity that left you breathless, his tongue exploring you in a way that felt both possessive and intimate, tracing your teeth and stroking the inside of your cheek as though savouring every part of you. 

Your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of your previous release, hypersensitive to every movement. Yet, the way Al continued to thrust into you, his pace calculated but demanding, stirred another wave of pleasure rising too fast for you to suppress. 

You moaned unabashedly, your head tipping back as you tried to keep your legs open despite the overwhelming sensations. Al’s kisses turned savage, his lips and tongue trailing down to taste your collarbone and the curve of your shoulder. Before long, your vision blurred, and your body arched into his. Your walls clenched around him, gripping tightly as your second orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. 

You cried out, your voice breaking as pleasure coursed through your veins. Every nerve in your body seemed to light up, leaving you trembling and weak. Your muscles spasmed around him, your breath hitching with every aftershock as you slowly slumped against his chest, utterly spent. 

“Y-your woman?” Alastor’s voice broke the spell, sharp and incredulous. He coughed, clearing his throat before finally finding his footing and standing upright. 

“Last I checked,” he continued, his tone rising with indignation, “she wasn’t even in Hell with you—with us!” His hand went to his neck, rubbing the tender skin where the shadow tendrils had choked him moments before. His darkened eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his voice brimming with outrage. “You’re insane.” 

Before you could react, Alastor reached for your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He tugged you forward, your weakened body pulled unceremoniously into his arms. Your head fell against his chest, and you felt the warmth of him seep into your skin. His hand slid possessively to your hip, grounding you as he glared at his future self. 

Al leaned back, a picture of ease and command, lounging as though he were a king on a throne. He regarded the two of you with a smirk, a glint of amusement in his ruby eyes. 

“She…” Alastor began, but his voice faltered. His grip on your wrist loosened until his fingers slid away entirely. His gaze dropped, his anger giving way to something quieter, something aching. “She lives in an entirely different world than us. Than me.” 

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling heavily over you. 

You turned slowly, your eyes lifting to meet Alastor’s. This was the man you had fallen for—the one you had dreamed of, the one whose guarded heart you had hoped to reach. His expression struggled to wear his usual impassive mask, yet, his jaw tense and there was something raw in his eyes, something he didn’t dare speak aloud. 

The air between you hung thick with unspoken words. And as you looked into his face, you realized just how fragile this moment truly was. 

Alastor’s fingers brushed a strand of hair back from your face, the motion hauntingly familiar to the one his future self had performed. His touch was gentle as he tucked the strand behind your ear. His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something vulnerable flicker there—only for it to vanish beneath his ever-present smile. 

“You remember, don’t you, dear?” His voice was smooth, almost casual, but there was an edge to it, like the sharp bite of a slap. “What we have, what we are... it’s just for—” he paused, his gaze holding yours for a fraction too long before finishing, “fun.” 

Fun. 

The word echoed in your mind, hollow and cold. All the hope that had swelled within you moments earlier, kindled by Al’s words, dissipated instantly. 

Fun. 

It was what you and Alastor had agreed upon. A fleeting arrangement, a temporary indulgence in each other’s company, meant to burn bright and brief before the inevitable end. It was never supposed to be more. Never meant to last. 

Fun. 

That was the word that cut through you, sharper than any blade. You had known this from the start, hadn’t you? Once your father found the perfect match for you, you would disappear from Alastor’s life forever. That had been the unspoken agreement. Yet somewhere along the way, the lines blurred, and your heart betrayed you. 

You glanced toward Al—the demon who claimed to be Alastor’s future self. His words, his touches, his teasing... was it all a game? A cruel trick to see how far he could bend you, how much hope he could ignite only to snuff it out? 

Your awareness sharpened as embarrassment crept over you, your vulnerable state of undress now unbearable. Your arms instinctively crossed over yourself, clutching at your dress as you tried to cover the skin that felt too exposed, too raw. 

The dress you had painstakingly chosen for this evening, carefully picked with Alastor in mind, now hung loosely, undone and crumpled. Your hair, once meticulously brushed and curled, was now a chaotic mess. You had spent hours perfecting your makeup, only for the tears streaking your face to smear it into ruin. 

You looked like a fool. 

The urge to flee surged within you. You couldn’t bear to stay here, not like this. But even as the thought crossed your mind, another, more painful realization followed—if you left, what would happen to the deal? Your heart ached at the cruel irony. Even now, after everything, you still cared about him. About what he wanted. About fulfilling your part of the bargain. 

For him. 

Tears welled up in your eyes again, spilling over despite your best efforts to contain them. You forced yourself to look up, but not at Al. Instead, your gaze found Alastor—the man you had fallen for despite all the odds, despite his impenetrable walls, despite knowing he would never truly be yours. 

“H-how much longer,” you began, your voice trembling as you struggled to hold back the tears, “must I satisfy the demon, Alas—” Your voice faltered, and you lowered your head, your next word barely above a whisper. “S-sir?” 

For a long moment, Alastor said nothing. His face was unreadable, his whisky brown eyes scanning your dishevelled appearance with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You wanted to disappear under his gaze, ashamed of the image you must have presented to him now. 

But then, to your surprise, he moved closer. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out, his long fingers brushing against your trembling hands. Without a word, he began to button your dress. One button at a time, his movements were delicate, almost reverent. 

There was no teasing in his touch, no mockery in his expression. Just a quiet, unexpected gentleness. 

His lashes fluttered briefly against his cheeks, soft and fragile behind his round glasses. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled with quiet resolve. “You should wait outside, dear,” he whispered, his words carrying the faintest tremor of tenderness. “At least let me take you home. It wouldn’t do to have a lady out this late.” 

Moments like this, where he allowed a sliver of gentleness to break through his sharp edges, made your heart both race and ache. You clung to the sound of his voice, the kindness laced within it, even as uncertainty churned in your chest. 

“What about the demon—” you began, the question heavy with fear and concern. 

He silenced you with a single, sharp look. His frown slowly curled into a grin, that eerily familiar expression that always danced between charming and menacing. “No need to worry about that, dear,” he said lightly, though his tone darkened as he shifted his gaze to the demon. “Unless the demon wishes to force his cher—” he spat the title like venom, his disdain palpable “—to pleasure him.” 

The air grew taut, charged with a dangerous energy. The red devil, Al’s supposed future self, froze for a moment, his grin tightening as his eyes narrowed. It felt as though the room itself bristled with his restrained fury. Then, almost too casually, he smoothed a hand over his pants, fixing himself, preened his dishevelled hair, and adjusted his monocle with precision. 

“That would mean our contract is null and void,” the demon drawled, his words slow and deliberate. He tilted his head slightly, studying Alastor with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. 

“That’s fine,” Alastor replied evenly, his voice firm, yet calm. Without waiting for a response, he gently but firmly pushed you toward the door. “Go. Wait for me outside.” 

You hesitated, torn between obedience and the instinct to stay by his side. Your eyes flicked between Alastor and the demon, the two of them locked in a silent, smouldering battle of wills. Finally, with a reluctant nod, you turned to leave, your steps faltering but resolute. 

You had barely taken three steps when the devil’s voice stopped you, his words drifting through the tense air like smoke. 

“Cher?” 

Your shoulders jumped up, muscles stiff with unease as you turned back toward him. The sight of his inky, unnatural tendrils from before lingered in your memory, a haunting reminder of how effortlessly he could hurt—or kill.

The devil’s grin had frozen in place, his sharp eyes scanning your face, your body, as though searching for something he couldn’t find. Slowly, his expression shifted. His two tufts of hair drooped, softening against his head, and for a fleeting moment, his imposing presence seemed almost weak, vulnerable. 

“I hope you have a lovely night, my darling,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something that almost sounded like sorrow. “Ma chère,” he murmured, tilting his head as if bidding farewell to something precious. 

Before you could muster a response, Alastor’s figure stepped between you and the demon. His back was to you, but his presence was unyielding, protective. Without turning fully, he spoke firmly, “Go. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Your heart felt heavy, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts as you finally obeyed. With trembling steps, you walked out of the office, leaving the two behind without daring to glance back. 

Now came the hardest part. 

Waiting. 

Standing outside, the minutes dragged on, each one longer than the last. Your thoughts spiralled, dread filling the space left by the closed door. Would it be Alastor who emerged, or the devil? Or worse—would the door open to reveal Alastor lifeless on the floor? 

Clasping your hands tightly, you sank to your knees on the cold ground, closing your eyes as tears pricked your lashes. You prayed, your whispered words trembling as they left your lips. You begged forgiveness from a merciful God for allowing a demon to touch your body, for the sins you had committed, and for the sin you were willing to bear if it meant Alastor would emerge unharmed. 

The only thing you wanted now was for him to be safe.  

Safe, and with you once more. 

The moment the door clicked shut, Alastor turned his glare on the devil who dared call himself his future. “For a devil, you are quite…” he sneered, his sharp teeth glinting, “pathetic.” 

His future self barely flinched, idly inspecting his cuticles as though the insult was nothing more than a passing breeze. “Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, raising a brow without lifting his gaze. “I must say, it’s rather odd to look back and see just how foolish I once was.” 

Alastor’s jaw tightened, a vein visibly pulsing at his temple. “You mean to tell me that you’ve clawed your way to becoming an Overlord—one of the highest ranks in Hell, no less—and yet, here you are, chasing after some privileged little gir—" 

“That woman,” his future self interrupted coldly, rising to his full height. His red eyes blazed with a dangerous light, casting an oppressive shadow across the room. “She is my—no, our—love.” 

Alastor scoffed, his disgust palpable. “Love? What rot.” He folded his arms tightly, his long fingers curling into his sleeves as though restraining himself. “I don’t have the time, nor the desire, for such sentimentality. There are far grander things to pursue, far more thrilling paths to follow.” His grin widened, jagged and bloodthirsty. “And I’ve never been one to let anyone dull the taste of the hunt.” 

The future Alastor chuckled low, his voice dipping into something almost pitying. “Ah, yes. Look at you,” he mused, his tone softer now, though no less unsettling. “So young, so single-minded, so…” His eyes flickered with something indecipherable. “...untouched by the weight of eternity.” 

He turned then, pacing with a languid grace, his shadow stretching and twisting unnaturally as he moved. “Eternity, you see, changes a man,” he continued, his voice almost wistful. “It sinks its claws into your mind, warping it, forcing you to reminisce on the past whether you want to or not.” 

Alastor said nothing, his body rigid and his gaze locked on the man pacing before him. Theatrics, he thought with a sneer. It seemed Hell had done nothing but make him more insufferable. 

The future him paused, his back to him now, his shoulders rising and falling with a quiet, steady breath. “She—cher—loved us,” he said softly, the words slipping out like a confession he hadn’t meant to make. When he turned, his expression was unreadable, but his crimson eyes burned. “She stood by us even when she knew. Even after learning our delightful little secret.” 

Alastor’s stomach twisted, though he couldn’t quite say why. He forced his expression to remain unchanged, his grin fixed in place like a mask he’d long since perfected. 

The future him tilted his head, studying him with something that felt far too intimate, as though he could see the cracks beneath the surface. “She looked me in the eyes,” he murmured, his voice softening with the memory, “and she asked,‘Can I stay with you?’” 

Suddenly, he barked out a laugh, loud and bitter, throwing his head back as his hand swept over his face. “Can you believe it? Standing there, dripping in another man’s blood, and she had the gall to ask me if she could stay with me?” 

His laughter died into something quieter, darker. When he looked back at Alastor, his manic grin was gone, replaced by an expression that seemed caught between amusement and sorrow. “How utterly, ridiculously foolish of her,” he said, his voice laced with something tender. 

Alastor’s mask of indifference faltered for just a moment, his mind racing, though his lips curved back into place as quickly as it had fallen. He couldn’t let this man—this thing—see any weakness. But the words lingered, echoing in the silence that followed. 

"Sounds like she stays with me for quite a while," Alastor murmured, his voice low and contemplative. The realization settled into him with a quiet sort of confidence. If the girl remained enamoured with him for an extended period, there would be no need for his future self's assistance. She could keep persuading her father to funnel money into his radio broadcasts. 

He didn't need this thing anymore.

His future self chuckled softly, the sound dark and humorless. “Oh, she does stay with you. And you, in all your stubbornness, deny your feelings for her. Even after your death.” A wry smile curved at his lips, tinged with something far heavier than amusement. “You let her marry another man. You didn’t even stop her wedding.” 

“I had no right to,” Alastor replied flatly, though his jaw tightened imperceptibly. 

“You didn’t kill her husband when he started beating her.” 

“It was no longer my business,” Alastor said through gritted teeth, his fingers curling into tight fists. “What happens between a man and a woman bound by marriage is their affair.” 

The words barely left his mouth before a horrible, grating white noise filled the room. It clawed at his ears, drowning out his thoughts. He staggered slightly, looking up just in time to see his future self begin to unravel. 

His once-dapper figure twisted grotesquely, hair growing shaggy and wild, teeth sharpening into jagged yellow points that glowed unnaturally. His eyes warped, pupils flickering like shifting radio dials. 

“She was hurting,” the figure hissed, his voice a cacophony of static and rage. “And you did nothing to protect her!” 

Dark, gnarled antlers sprouted from his head, resembling the twisted, lifeless branches of a dead tree. His elongated form loomed over Alastor, arms stretching unnaturally as if to choke him, though he stopped just short. 

“She died,” the future self spat, his voice fractured and trembling with fury. “Beaten to death by that pathetic excuse of a husband. You could have saved her! You should have saved her!” He paused, his grinning mask fracturing into countless shards. "I should have saved her. I should have helped her."  His voice became a manic chant, each repetition more unhinged than the last. “Help her… help her… help her!” 

Alastor took several measured steps back, his disgust plain on his face. His eyes burned with disdain as he straightened his posture. “That girl means nothing to me,” he sneered. “She’s just a means to an end. I will never become you.” 

The creature froze mid-motion, his grotesque form suddenly still. His eyes widened, as if struck by an unseen force, before his body began to shrink and contort, growing smaller and smaller. 

“Oh,” he whispered softly, his voice hollow and distant. As his monstrous visage faded, he seemed more man than demon, his expression frozen in something between grief and longing. “She died before you...before me. She was in Hell first…” His gaze fell to the floor, searching for something unseen. “If I’d died first, I could have protected her…from the extermination... If we’d died together…” His voice faltered, trailing off as he stared vacantly at the ground. 

The future self’s eyes widened in a sudden, dawning realization as his body began to dissolve completely. His time was up. 

The future version of himself turned his face sharply toward Alastor, his crimson eyes wide and frenzied, his grin stretching impossibly as if carved into his face. “Help her, help her, help her,” he chanted, his voice trembling with mania and desperation. Each repetition was a dagger, sharp and insistent, stabbing at the silence between them. “You’ll regret it. You’ll—” 

But before the final word left his lips, his form unravelled completely. He vanished like smoke caught in the wind, leaving behind nothing but the faint, chilling echo of his last plea. 

Alastor stood frozen, staring at the empty space where his future self had been. The chair that had grotesquely morphed into a bed returned to its mundane, wooden form with a soft creak. The room fell still, save for the faint metallic tang of blood in the air, remnants of the summoning ritual still staining the floor. 

A low, derisive laugh escaped him, dry and humorless. It reverberated in the quiet room, a hollow sound that dissipated as quickly as it came. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, straightening his tie with deliberate care. “Utterly ridiculous.” 

There were hundreds, thousands of people suffering in the world. People beaten, broken, and killed every day. Why should one person’s pain matter more than the rest? His muddy brown eyes flicked to the door, the barrier between him and you. He could feel your presence on the other side, waiting. 

Always waiting. 

And yet... 

He shook the thought away, his lips pressing into a tight line. You were nothing but a means to an end. A convenient piece in his grand design. 

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

Alastor inhaled deeply as the oppressive, sulphur-laden air of Hell greeted him. The thick atmosphere clung to his skin, sticky and suffocating, as if the very realm wanted to remind him of where he belonged. He was home—or rather, back in his territory. 

He straightened, a flicker of hope igniting within his chest, faint and fragile. Perhaps his younger self had listened. Perhaps the warnings had sunk in, sparing him the endless torment of regret. 

But as he stood there, he felt it—the empty, unchanging void where new memories should have been. Nothing was different. Every moment, every sensation of you, was still confined to the past, untouched by the intervention of his other self. 

His shoulders sank slightly as he pushed open the door to his residence. It groaned on its hinges, a mournful sound that echoed through the dark, cavernous halls. His home was vast yet barren, shadows swallowing the corners of rooms that had long since been abandoned by warmth. 

There was no trace of you. No scent, no sound, no faint whisper of your laughter to greet him. 

Oh. 

A bitter realization settled over him, heavy and unrelenting. He would spend eternity as he always had—without you. Once more. How fitting, he thought, for a sinner like him. 

He pressed his lips against his trembling fingers, his eyes closing as he forced himself to draw upon the fading memory of your face. The way your eyes lit up with that wide, innocent wonder. The delicate flush of your cheeks that sent his chest tightening in ways he’d never admit aloud. 

“You look wonderful today, cher,” he murmured to the silence, his voice soft, almost reverent. Words he’d always thought but never dared to say. 

“My, is that gift for me?” His laughter cracked as he spoke to the void. “You shouldn’t have... Truly, I’ll treasure it.” 

“Did you do something with your hair?” he asked, his tone warm and practised, though his grin faltered. “It looks lovely, cher.” He smiled into the empty room, knowing the words would never reach you. 

Then, his voice fell to a whisper, a confession carried by the air of a hollowed-out life. “Ah... I love you, ma chère. I do.” The words tasted bittersweet, aching with all the emotions he had locked away. “I love you,” he said again, softer this time, like a prayer. “Stay with me?” 

For a fleeting moment, he let himself imagine the impossible. You, smiling that radiant smile that warmed his cold heart. Your arms wrapping around him tightly as you whispered a resounding yes. 

A life he would never know. 

A life he had willingly forfeited. 

Now, all that stretched before him was an eternity without you. 

An eternity of silence. 

@safination and @redfoxwritesstuff this month was your birthday month. So happy birthday baby girl 💖🎂

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[ohdeerfully]

incredibly short and sweet self indulgent fic tonight..... had surgery yesterday (not nearly as bad as reader here i just like the dramatics) and have been fighting for sleep for like 7 hours. its nearly 5am im so tired. so heres some fluffy comfort fic?????! i need season 2 to come out already so i dont have to reuse gifs ),:

Battle Scars

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: reader is injured but no graphic descriptions. alastor is grossly sweet here masterlist join my discord! ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

After the latest attack from Heaven, you found yourself one of the many stuck in recovery. A gnarly wound on your abdomen and a fractured jaw left you covered in stitches and bedridden. It was embarrassing, almost, feeling so helpless. The attention you got from the kinder residents of the hotel ironically didn’t help you feel any better, although they meant well.

“I really appreciate it, really, but I don’t need this, it’s too much,” You spoke slowly, and it felt like you were nearly chewing on your words as you spoke to Charlie when she came to your room a day after your surgery with a whole gift basket of goodies and a small wooden knick knack of your favorite animal. You tried pushing it back into her hands, but it took no strength at all for her to keep it on your lap. She waved her hand dismissively.

“You fought so hard for us!” She said with assurance and gratitude. “It’s really the least I could do.” She removed the basket from your lap and rested it on a nearby vanity. She spoke a few more pleasantries and offered you your thousandth “feel better” before leaving the room. A light smile crossed your lips at her gestures, but it soon fell from your face again as your focus returned to your poor state.

Painkillers in Hell were less than ideal, although that would come as a surprise to nobody—it was Hell, afterall. Truthfully, “real” pain medicine did nothing to help, and the only real solution was some hard drugs to take the edge off. You opted to call up Angel Dust as a last resort.

For the next few days you were practically a ghost floating through the hotel, only shuffling out of your room to grab a meal and fluids. Every step ached, shooting pain up your body and through the mediocre stitches on your chest. Eating was no less painful, especially considering you never had an appetite and only really ate out of necessity. You couldn’t chew well, so you were stuck eating a mostly soft and liquid diet. It was miserable.

The days were blending together, especially due to the fact many of your nights were sleepless. You spent hours turning this way and that, desperately trying to find that perfect position that would let sleep finally turn off your pain for just a few hours, but it never came. Every night you eventually got fed up and sat in a rocking chair by the window, watching the red-casted city just a few miles away.

You heard a light knock at your door, but before you could reason enough at who would be awake so late in the night you felt a sensation of the air blowing before a presence materialized behind you. It took no time at all to recognize the familiar prickling of static on your bare skin. Instinctually the recognition brought relief, but your guard soon went back up after you had a moment to think.

A weird mixture of feelings crossed your mind as Alastor approached you, stopping at the side of the chair you sat in. His claws gripped around the head of the chair, stopping the gentle rocking you had been lulling yourself with.

“Why are you up so late, ma moitié?” He bent slightly to peer down at your face, his ever present smile more gentle than usual. You cast your eyes up to his, studying his face for a moment while you tempered your emotions and thought of a response.

“I could ask you the same thing,” You finally answered, averting your gaze when his piercing eyes became too much to look at. It hurt so bad to speak. You heard him chuckle, although it was empty of any real humor.

“You know better than anyone I don’t sleep much,” He responded, fingers trailing along the wooden carving of the back of your chair. His fingers eventually found themselves trailing onto your head and gently playing with your hair. A tense chill went through your body, but you allowed yourself to fall weak to his touch. You were always weak to him.

The intimate contact finally broke the dam of emotion you tried to reserve in order to maintain what little dignity you had in your broken state. You didn’t cry, but the tears that filled your eyes threatened to spill at any moment. You were embarrassed, but couldn’t help it in your sleepless state.

“Where have you been, Alastor,” You said, barely above a whisper. It had been days since the attack, and after his one on one with Adam he had completely disappeared. You didn’t know if you wanted to miss him or hate him for leaving you like that. You were sickeningly worried. He didn’t respond immediately, but you knew he heard you well enough when you saw his ears twist momentarily in the reflection and his expression shift.

“Let’s lie you down, first,” He offered, already moving to wrap his hands around your shoulders to aid in you standing up. As upset as you felt, you put up no fight and obeyed his touch as he guided you to your disheveled bed. He settled himself next to you, remaining propped up on an elbow as he peered down at you. You wished he would stop looking at you so hard, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious of your unwashed hair and swollen, bruised jaw. 

“I found myself in a similar state as you,” He eventually responded to your earlier question, his voice much quieter than you would ever expect from him. You were no stranger to the softer side of him, but it always came as a shock when his usual attitude is rather obnoxious and unserious. 

His fingers gently trailed at your wrapped up body, somehow knowing exactly where the stitches hid underneath the bandages. His hand reached your own, gently cupping it and pulling it towards his own body. You didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed before, but Alastor had his own set of bandages covering a bloody spot on his chest. 

You pulled your hand away from his and brought it up to cup his cheek. It took him a moment to accept the gesture, lightly pressing his head into your hand. 

“Why didn’t you come back to me?” You asked quietly. “After seeing Adam strike you, I was so worried you went off and bled out alone somewhere.”

Alastor grinned a little wider at your comment, but it soon fell to be quite small and strained.

“I was weak. I don’t want anybody seeing me like that—especially you, my dear. I had my own battle to face and I couldn’t come back until I felt a little more… sane.” 

You didn’t quite understand the latter half of his statement, but knew better to question him further. He likely wouldn’t open up any more anyway. You were slowly just accepting that he was back with you, which lifted a weight you forgot was even on your mind.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t protect you from your own fight,” He added after a few quiet moments, the sincerity in his voice poking at your already emotional heart. His arm had come to wrap protectively around your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. 

“I don’t need protection,” You spoke a bit stubbornly. You watched his eyes glance down at your battered torso before looking back up to you, but he made no further comment. “But I am glad you finally came back.”

He brought his head down, resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and breathed in his familiar smell, almost overwhelmed with the comforting familiarity of it. You had managed to block out your worry about his absence for the past few days, trying to focus on your own recovery, and it had all come flooding back at once. Before he would have a chance to notice tears forming in your eyes, you aggressively threw your arms up and around him, pulling him down and closer to you as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

The uncertain tension in his body was dismissed when he felt a jolt of your body as you bit back a sob. He curled both of his arms around you, pulling you against himself while also bringing his legs up to cradle your curled up form.

The room was dead silent, the only movement being your shuddering body as you fought to stop yourself from crying. It hurt tremendously to cry, but the emotions you felt made it near impossible to stop. 

It was only when Alastor began threading his clawed hand through your hair were you able to calm yourself down. His touch was delicate, maybe a bit unsure, as he did his best to comfort you. You shifted impossibly closer to him, and in response he simply pulled you tighter to his body.

“Don’t do that shit again,” You whispered after the tears stopped flowing.

“Nothing in Heaven or Hell can keep me from you,” He promised, speaking as if he was challenging something to test that fact. You felt him shift for a moment before a light kiss was pressed on your forehead. You melted into the contact, finally falling silent as his gentle touch in your hair and against your skin lulled you into sleep.

[safination]

The Only Temptation

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, dirty talking, phone handjob, TLDR: Alastor's rut is being drawn out by a doe who is definitely not you, but weirdly enough or not so weirdly enough, he only seems to craves you. AN: Hello! I haven't posted in a while, but pshhh we'll just ignore that. Since I'm turning the big 22, this fic will also be 2/2. This is just 1/2 (Truthfully, I just ran out of time and decided to cut this into 2 parts.) Also, will you look at that! My first smut! Handjobs should count as smut right? And here I thought my religious ass would never make one of these. Oh, well. It goes without saying but I'm going to say it anyway: MINORS DNI

There’s a doe in the Hazbin Hotel.

You bumped into her as you were making your way to Alastor’s radio tower. There would be more of these types of interactions if you actively lived in the hotel like you want, but Alastor refuses to allow you to stay for too long with the excuse of it being safer to hide you away at home while he stays here.

There are ears on the top of this doe’s head. It reminds you of Alastor. They’re a bit cute – more than, ‘a bit cute’ if you were being honest. Downright adorable if you were really being honest. Spots trails over her shoulders and continue into her clothes.

What an itty-bitty doe. So ready to be devoured! (Part of you wonders if Alastor would appreciate the taste of a doe’s flesh. A surprise gift, maybe?)

You’ve never seen a doe in Hell before, but she’s not really important to you right now. So, you throw her to the back of your mind and make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

All of Alastor’s senses are heightened because of that damn doe. It’s quite a predicament as rut season nears, and the pheromones being released place him in quite the difficult spot.

It gets worse when his ears catch upon a slight knock and . . . and the scent of you.

Alastor can’t describe what prickles his nose, but it’s the scent of morning coffee shared through one mug. He takes a deeper whiff and it becomes the scent of soft music playing through the radio as you dance around the room.

It seems that doe has unlocked something in him. The scent of you has never tasted like that until now. It brings out a hunger for you that goes deeper than normal.

The smell intensifies when the door clicks open, and that hunger strikes even deeper. It travels through the air, settling itself in his stomach. Alastor pierces the tips of his claws into his skin before he could fully lose himself.

It becomes worse . . . better? . . . when you remove your coat, hanging it on the rack. The scent becomes so strong that he’s enchanted for more than a second. Actually, it’s so heavenly to his senses that blood pools between his legs and settles into his thighs.

Alastor inches closer to the desk, hiding the way his cock has pitched a tent from just the scent of you. He pretends to busy himself with the buttons on the panel, even when the broadcast ended five-minutes ago.

You swat his hand away, and sit on the table. There’s deliberate care in the way you prop yourself, careful not to hit any of the knobs.

A small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi . . .” Alastor lays his head on your thighs, shighing into their plumpness as he swipes his thumb on your skin. Everything about you sends high frequency pitches into his skin. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Well, my dearest,” you begin, massaging the base of his antlers, “the purpose of a surprise if for it to be unsuspecting.”

The witty response to your statement dies in his throat. A groan of relief replaces it as you continue to massage his antlers. That annoying itch lessens when you press on the base just a little firmer.

That fact that it feels good to have his antlers scratched can only mean one thing . . .

“You’re nearing your rut,” you say, plain and simple, as if his unnoticed erection already isn’t an indicator. “Hmmm, it seems I picked a good time to drop by.”

Alastor leans his cheek a little bit deeper into your thighs. “It’s still too early.”

“Does it have to do something with that little doe I spotted earlier?”

Alastor isn’t getting used to your scent.

Usually, strong scents should fade into the background after some time. Usually. Alastor is constantly and painfully aware of the scent of heaven on your skin.

Everything about you is driving him up the wall. So much so, the Alastor stays limp in your hold, afraid that shifting will cause his already sensitive erection to brush against you.

“What a silly thought,” he says, even as his cock throbs uncomfortably in his pants. Alastor’s never been this hard before. That heavenly scent means he’ll have to send you away soon if his rut is hitting a little early.

How has he never noticed how good you smell?

“There’s no reason you have to go through this alone.” You pull on the ends of his hair. “Maybe there’s a reason why it takes you a month to calm down. Wouldn’t getting your satisfaction speed things along?”

“That’s out of the question.”

“You won’t know if we don’t try,” you say, frowning a little. “We can at least try, dearest. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Alastor allows himself to dream about it. It would be nice to have you to himself for a month, if his erection is an indicator. Your very presence is already causing a wet patch of pre-cum to spread. He’s so painfully hard that he can feel the beat of blood going through his veins.

Alastor would take you, hiding you at home. It’s purposely far from the prying eyes of the bustling city. There he would spend the next month burying himself into you. The hunger that gnaws on his belly will be satiated with the taste of the combined fluids dripping down your cunt.

No, that wouldn’t do. That would just be a waste of perfectly good cum. It needs to stay inside you if he’s going to defy a Sinner’s biology. Alastor would need to take every drop, and make sure it’s not wasted. He would fill you up until a large bulge would—

What is he thinking about?

Giving in to his instincts would do you more harm than good. You weren’t a doe, and that means your body isn’t meant to handle his rut.

“It’s not safe for you to be at the hotel at the moment.” Alastor is playing a dangerous game – one where Heaven has set its hat into the ring.

There’s a reason why he’s hidden the house from prying eyes. It’s much safer . . . or at least that’s the reason he’s giving you.

A small frown. “Then we can hide away at home.”

“I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.” Alastor nuzzles into your thigh. “We have the same argument every season.”

“I see,” you say, and that’s a proper frown on your lips now. “I won’t be seeing you for some time then.”

“Now, now. Don’t frown, cher.” Alastor pushes your lips up into a bright smile. “You look absolutely ravishing in one of these.”

There’s a small smile that grows on your face.

You tilt his chin, and press a kiss on the edge of his smile. Alastor crosses his legs, digging his claws into them to try and regain any semblance of control.

“I think I would almost miss you, my dearest,” you tell him, showing off that cheeky, little smile. “It’s bound to get incredibly dull around here. It always does when you’re not around.”

Alastor barks out a laugh, pulling your face into his hold to stare into you. Just a little longer. That’s all he needs. “Flirting? That’s certainly a new tactic,” he says, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think I would miss you as well, cher.”

Alastor pulls off his bowtie in one swift motion, throwing it off somewhere irrelevant. It’s been hours, yet he’s still so painfully hard. It forced him to hide away in his room the moment you left. Changing into looser clothing helps, but every brush of his cock sends tingles up his spine.

His shadow crawls up the wall with a scowl. The thing zooms around, seemingly in a mood as foul as his. It disappears under the cracks of the door, and Alastor doesn’t have enough blood circulating through his brain to question where it went.

Maybe, the blood would be passing through his brain if it wasn’t pooling in his throbbing erection. It’s been throbbing all day long.

Damn that does.

Alastor should kill her; end the madness she’s bringing. If the hormones from her heat stop, then his rut won’t start for another few days, or maybe even a week if he’s lucky.

The delay of his rut means the delay of his departure. Alastor can keep you by his side for a moment longer. Just a little longer until the inevitable.

You can be by his side. You can stay with him. You can . . . you . . . you!

The scent of you invades his nose. It hits harder the more he inhales. But you shouldn’t be here. Alastor sent you away. He made sure you exited those hotel doors, and he kept his eyes on the horizon until he could no longer see you and then a little longer after that.

His shadow slithers back into the room, something in its hands. Alastor lifts his head from the pool of pillows and . . . and it’s your coat.

The scent of you lingers on it.

“Get that thing away from me,” he hisses even as his cock twitches against his underwear. “Go burn it in the fireplace.”

The shadow slithers closer, dropping the coat Alastor just demanded to be burnt. It’s never defied one of his orders before.

His shadow pushes it closer to his face, and all anger fizzles at his throat when the smell of you breaches his nose. It drives him crazy, but it brings some sort or soothing effect as well.

Did you forget it here?

Or did you leave this for him?

Alastor buries his face into it, even when he knows he should return the thing. Alastor isn’t a dense Sinner. He’s well aware of what will happen if he allows something like this to stay . . . but what if you really did leave it for him?

The cloth of his pajama chafes against his skin. It’s too warm, and the scent of your coat is a splash of gasoline in an already burning sea of flames.

The image of holding you plagues his mind. Despite the burning in his skin, Alastor wouldn’t care as long as it came from you. Burning would feel heavenly as long as it was you who held the other end of that matchstick.

The echo of your laughter bounces in his mind, and blood shoots straight down, fueling his erection even more. The cloth from his underwear brushes against it, and a tiny groan escapes him as it goes over the sensitive head.

Alastor’s had enough. It’s adding fuel to his already foul mood. He shreds his clothes off, tearing it with his claws. He lies in a pool of scrapped fabric, his dick springing forth.

The shadow scoots your coat just a little bit closer. Alastor inhales the scent, burying himself into it. It’s a fuel to an already burning flame, but it’s coming from you. So, how bad can it really be?

He shifts his legs, and the way his cock rubs against the silk sheets tears coaxes a moan from his throat. It’s debauchery. It’s sinful . . . but it feels too good. Wet patches of pre-cum stains his sheets.

Alastor trails his palms lower, running them through his stomach until he’s fisted his cock. He pumps his shaft through his fist, trying to find relief.

It’s not . . . It’s not working?

He searches his mind, trying to remember how your fingers would work him into his release.

How tight would you squeeze him?

Where would you start? Alastor should remember that much, considering it was your hand pumping his cock.

Right . . . The head.

Alastor rubs his sensitive head, swirling it around like you do, and fuck! It’s just a shitload of nothing.

His fingers are too rough. You know how to build him into cumming, but you’re not here right now. Haphazardly fisting his cock isn’t going to bring him anywhere.

The temptation to give up is there, but he’s been erect all day. Alastor needs to end this tonight.

Alastor massages the tip once more, but with more purpose, just like you do. A moan releases into the air. If he shuts off all senses, he can pretend that it’s your hand that’s—

His shadow holds up a ringing, landline phone.

Alastor looks at it, then at the hand still fisted around his cock, and the back at his shadow.

The shadow looks back at him.

Alastor squeezes himself, ignoring the shadow as he tries to build that same mood. “Throw it away.”

His shadow has a look on its face, and pushes the thing closer. Alastor’s about to destroy it himself when he realizes there’s only one Sinner who has the number to this landline – You.

Alastor grabs the receiver, ignoring the fact that he’s very naked, lying on a bed that’s stained with his pre-cum, and a very erect dick.

“Alastor!” The sound of your voice stuns him a little, even when he knew it would be you on the other end. “Alastor?” you call out. “Hello?”

It takes him more than a second to take the blood that’s throbbing his erection, and force it up his brain. “And what have I done to displease you, dearest,” he says, “that you would force me to use this blasted phone?”

“That’s what you say every single time you pick up the phone.” You chuckle a little. A small chuckle – that’s all it took to shoot the blood back down. “Yet, not once have you missed my call.”

“This is my punishment, not yours.”

“I’m calling to let you know I made it home with no problem,” you tell him. “And . . . I think I left my coat there.”

“Ah . . . yes.” Alastor swirls the head of his cock. Maybe hearing your voice would be the push he needed. “I’m looking at it right now.”

“Are you alright, dearest?” you say. “You don’t sound too good.”

“Just . . . a little tired.” His breath goes through the receiver, even as his claws dig through the pillow. It’s doing nothing for him – nothing at all. “There’s no need to concern that ridiculous head of yours.”

It’s silent at the other end of the receiver. Alastor can hear the gears turning in your head. You always were a bit too perceptive about him. “Did you run into your new little, doe friend?”

“That thing is not my friend,” Alastor hisses, still trying to pump his shaft.

“My apologies then,” you say, snickering. “I forget that you do not allow yourself the pleasure of friendship, but I’m starting to think that it’s not you who turns away from it.”

“Hilarious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch. Coincidentally, so does his dick. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I’m in the middle of something important. I’ll have one of the ink puppets drop off –”

“I think I left something important in my left pocket,” you say, and despite being miles apart, Alastor can hear your smile. “Could you check it for me, and make sure it’s still there?”

Alastor dips his fingers into your left pocket, finding what seems to be a small card. He flips it over, and this definitely is not a card. It’s a small, polaroid photo. It’s you in that picture. You’re wearing—

Actually, what you’re wearing doesn’t really matter. Alastor will take a look at it later. It’s probably something red. What catches his attention is the fact that your ass is pointed to the air. There are a myriad of bite marks and hickeys around your thighs, leading a path up to your glistening cunt.

“Do you like it?”

Alastor blinks at it for a second . . . and then, another second . . . and its laughter that echoes around his room despite how the picture rushes blood down his already throbbing cock. The need for relief grows stronger.

“Did you take this for me?” Alastor wheezes, eyes bulging in different directions. Tears fall from his eyes as he laughs. “How ridiculous of you, dearest! You’re propped up like a stretching cat.”

“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” you say, chuckling. “However, I am glad that you’re enjoying it, one way or another.”

Alastor shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, and glances at his painfully throbbing erection. “I’m in quite the predicament because of you.”

“Oh!” You sound a bit too delighted. “So, you’re—”

“As a rock.” Alastor pokes his dick, hoping it would do something.

“How amusing!” Your laughter rings into the receiver. Alastor revels in it, enjoying the sound. “You’re eerily responsive tonight. Shall I send you more?”

Alastor rolls his eyes at you. “Take responsibility for what you’ve caused.”

“Al, I already did my portion,” you say. “I can’t exactly do the next part for you, unless you drag yourself home.”

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

Alastor swears he can hear the way your eyes roll at him. “I think you know what to do.”

“Don’t mock me.” Alastor flicks the head of his cock. “It’s not working. So, take responsibility for your actions.”

It’s silent for a little bit, but his ears pick up the way you lick your lips. “Why don’t you take a moment to get comfortable.”

Alastor takes a moment he doesn’t need. Talking to you always brings him comfort. “That’s been taken care of.”

“My naughty buck . . . I start with the tip,” you tell him. “I use a little bit of that pre-cum to lubricate you. Swirl it around before pumping it down.”

Alastor does as he’s told, massaging the sensitive tip as he lubricates himself. The sound of your breathing . . . the lingering scent from your coat . . . it coaxes a small moan from him. Alastor makes sure you can hear him through the receiver.

“I trail my fingers up the back, tracing that little line,” you tell him, and there’s definitely a smile on your face. “Can you do that for me, my sweet Al?”

Alastor gasps into the air, using the tips of his sharp claw to trace a path from the base to the head. It’s exactly how you do it. He can almost believe that it’s your hand that’s touching him.

“What’s next?” He breathes through the receiver, closing his eyes to revel in the feeling of everything. “What’s next, cher? Tell me what to do.”

“Make a ring with your finger, and wrap it around the base,” you tell him, voice a bit low. “Tighter, Alastor. Make it tighter than you think you need it to be.”

Alastor will never have the ability to deny you. So, there’s really nothing really else but to make a ring with his finger. The constant pressure feels so heavenly sinful. His hips buck up as he squeezes even tighter. Alastor takes his other hand, and pumps the length of his shaft in slow motions, making sure he feels every ounce of his building pleasure.

“Are you thinking about me right now?” you say. “Am I running around in that head of yours, pressing kisses before I take you into my mouth? Or am I on your hips, bouncing along to the beat of your drum?

“You never stopped.” Alastor thinks he moans your name, but the way he buries his face into your coat overloads his senses. The fire in his stomach burns faster, rising to the way you stroke his flames. “Cher . . . cher.”

“I’m right here, Alastor,” you say, and there’s a playful tint in the way you say his name. “Faster, dear. Lose yourself into me.”

Alastor jerks his hips, driving his cock into his hand faster and faster and faster.

The sound of your breathing pulls him along as he ruts into his hand, chasing sinfully sweet release. Alastor glances back at the photo of you, ass so high it’s practically worshiping him.

As he drives his hips up, Alastor notices something glistening around your folds.

A loud moan rips itself out of him. That’s his seed painting your cunt, slowly dripping out of you.

Finally, finally, his pleasure builds to its peak, and topples him over. Ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, pooling around his stomach. Alastor keeps pumping, dragging out all it’s worth as he spurts all over the bed, watching his seed drop to your coat.

Alastor doesn’t stop humping his fist, even as cum on your coat changes the smell on it. He keeps going until he’s still holding his still erect cock, driving it faster up his own sticky seed.

There’s a second where his mind clears for a fraction. Alastor takes a look around at the mess he’s making, and to the mess that he will make.

 No . . . no.

It’s all wrong.

Why is he cumming on his fist? This . . . this should be inside you.

If you happen to read this, I wanna thank all my friends in this fandom. The friendship I found in all of you makes me happier than I can ever express. I dedicate this handjob to : @nyx-umbrakinesis @redfoxwritesstuff @redvexillum @whatswrongwithblue @inuhalfdemon @crackrodent . I hope each and every one of you knows that you have all pushed me to become a better writer, and pushed me out of my own comfort zone. Each and every one of your works inspire me to become better and push myself to my limits. If it wasn’t for everyone at VoxTek, I would have dropped Alastor a long time ago. There’s a tweet I found that says we should be writing not for an audience but for ourselves and our five friends who are crazy enough to read what we write. I write for me and for you.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Why Is Misdemeanor Of the Heart's Reader...

White Coded?

Yep, I said it. Come, take a seat and get cozy in the Fox Den while Mamma Kit answers some questions.

CW: Discussions of race and racism in a historical context and me being a wordy ass bitch

I've seen some discourse around Human!Alastor readers and writers and have gotten some of these questions myself over the last few months.

Firstly- I am white. I'm so fucking white that I use SPF 100 sunscreen. I grew up in Alaska. The history I learned growing up wasn't African American history; it was Alaska Native history. I didn’t learn about how we fucked over African American people in America’s early history. Instead, I learned how we fucked over the villages of the land I was raised on.

Why does this matter? The current accepted fanon for Alastor's human life is that he was a Black or mixed-race radio host who died in 1933 and reached his mid to late 30s or 40s. We know he had a successful career and was also a serial killer. He favored jazz, and rye is his drink of choice. He exists somewhere on the ace spectrum.

Time for a little math. Let's go with the middle ground—he was 40 in 1933. That means he would have been born around 1893. Let’s assume his mother was 25 when he was born. She would have been born in 1868. Using the same age for her mother, Alastor's grandmother would have been born in 1843. Remember this—it’ll matter in a minute.

For MisD and all of my human Alastor writing, as well as the works of many other human Alastor writers, we approach Alastor's life through a historical lens. I, like many others, enjoy exploring a time period rich with change—dynamic and vibrant with energy, money, and hope.

What does this mean? This means Alastor would have faced significant amounts of racism. Being Black, mixed-race, or how well he could pass as white would all drastically impact his life. It affected what opportunities he had, the education he received, and how laws were applied to him.

Ready for a history lesson? The Emancipation Proclamation was issued by President Abraham Lincoln on January 1, 1863. It declared all enslaved people in rebellious areas of the United States to be free. Alastor's grandmother—based on the ages we used earlier—would have been a 20-year-old woman at that time.

Alastor would have been raised by a first-generation free woman. He likely wouldn’t have had access to public education, instead being taught in group homeschool-like sessions by those who had learned to read and write.

If he was mixed-race, he would have faced significant discrimination from all of society.

The Civil Rights Movement in the USA didn’t begin until the mid-1950s—a full twenty years after his death.

The reality is that we don’t know a lot about the Black experience during the early to mid-1900s. Much of this history wasn’t recorded by (white) historians. Instead, it was passed down through stories from parents to children, and so on. Only now are we starting to uncover and listen to the histories, stories, and experiences of Black Americans during this time period.

Remember how I mentioned at the start that I’m white as fuck? I don’t have grandparents I can go to and ask about the Black experience when they were children. First—my grandparents are all dead, and second—they were somehow whiter than I am. Their perspective wouldn’t help me because it isn’t my family’s story to tell.

What I can do is look at what we do know, listen to the voices of Black Americans who are finally being allowed to share their stories, and reflect that in my version of human Alastor. I can spend the time to research and learn. For instance, Alastor would have been ahead of his time—the first Black radio host was in 1929, a man named Jack L. Cooper from Chicago. He hosted the first Black-produced weekly variety show and showcased Black entertainers.

I can listen to stories of how mixed-race men were afforded the privilege of their lighter skin as long as they were useful to their white employers, only to be scapegoated the second anything went wrong. I do my best to reflect these stories in Human!Alastor's experiences and behaviors.

Why A White Coded Reader? I cannot even begin to hope to understand the Black American experience as it is now, let alone how it was in 1922, when MisD is set, or in the late 1910s, when my other Human Al fics take place. What I can understand on a deeper level is the white woman's experience, the experience of poverty, the experiences of abused women, and what it’s like to view the Black experience from the outside looking in.

And so that is what I try to highlight with my Human!Alastor fics. Yes, when I’m writing a Human!Alastor fic that deals with racial, class, and social politics as one of the themes to be explored (such as MisD), the reader is coded as white. It is through a white reader that I can have conversations with Alastor about why he feels he has to be perfect, why he straightens his hair, and so on. I cannot do proper justice to these feelings on a deeper level from a Black perspective because I can’t even begin to hope to understand it.

I cannot truly understand what Alastor’s Blackness would mean to him or how he would feel about being mixed. However, I can learn and understand how it impacted his life from the outside looking in. This is what I strive to do—to shed light on what Alastor’s accomplishments would have meant and how much his mistakes would have cost him.

I would love to see more Black writers in the fanfic space, especially within the Human!Alastor space. I would also love to see fewer readers written as blank slates. The Black experience in America and other white-dominated cultures is still not spotlighted often enough, both in present-day and historical settings.

These are stories that need to be told—perspectives that need to be explored, seen, and heard. However, they are not my stories to tell. Personally, until I am far better educated on the matter, I feel it would take away from these stories and be disrespectful to the lives of the very real people who lived them if I were to write from a perspective I cannot hope to understand.

I will continue to strive to write readers as racially neutral as often as the plot allows. However, I also ask that readers respect that, when the plot deals with racial, social, and class divides in a historical setting, if the reader is coming from a place of privilege, their skin tone is often the reason for such privilege.

Of course, I encourage readers to suspend disbelief and insert themselves into the fic regardless of their personal skin tone. I write from a historical setting, but as readers, you can imagine a set of historical laws or circumstances that allow for the same dynamics without requiring a white reader.

Can I do better? Absolutely—we all can. We’re always growing, improving, and learning. I was blessed to be raised in one of the most diverse places in the country (over 45 languages were spoken fluently at my high school). However, since leaving, I’ve struggled with the realities of having that bubble burst—not that Alaska was without racism.

I always welcome respectful discussions about the themes in MisD and all of my fics, as well as the reasons things may be portrayed the way they are. I prefer to write dark content, and with that comes the opportunity to educate and shine a light on topics many people avoid discussing. I simply ask for respect in return for the respect I give.

Much love, Kit

[frostedclock-writes]

Crimson Magnolias (pt2)

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Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings: R rated themes, Hanahaki disease, one-sided romance, ace Alastor, female reader

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Part 1 Here

Jazz.

You watched Alastor from the bar for a moment. He moved across the dance floor like God had made it for him. His large smile made your heart flutter, and you could see his brown curls sticking to his forehead in some places from the sweat gathered on his brow. You make a small sigh and stare just a few moments longer before you finally heard Mimzy's voice break through your thoughts.

" Ya got it bad don't ya~" Mimzy's smile was playful and she wiggled her eyebrows. The blonde woman took a drink of her own coffin varnish and slammed the cup upside down. " Just tell him. "

You tense up and make a laugh. " Don't be silly Mimz." You swirl the liquid courage around in your cup. It never helps. Just makes you clam up more.

She pushes a pudgy finger against your chest and taps. " Ya can't keep holdin' it in, doll, ya at least got ta let him know how ya feel. It's eatin' you up! Just watch, you gonna drop dead one of these times. " She tutted.

You frown and huff. " You don't know anything, Mimz, you don't know him like I know him.... " You let your gaze go back out to Alastor with some stick of a girl with a big smile on her lips. Though you know he wasn't thinking beyond the dance itself, the entertainment of it all. She would bore him before the second song and he would move on.

But it still made your heart twist.

At least like this .... He comes back to you.

You sink your teeth into a biscuit. Flakey. Somehow buttery. You make a small hum of content as you enjoy the small snack. And Alastor's cooking, no less. You pick up your cup as you both sit out on the balcony. Alastor had one leg crossed over the other and he held his cup in one hand, and a fork with a few last shreds of meat he had left in it. He made a circle motion with the fork and his grin stretched. Those red ears flicked a little before he spoke.

" You could work here at the Hotel," he shifted proudly " I am in charge of staff since I came here and we could always use one more hand. "

You nearly choked on the last swallow of biscuit you were attempting to enjoy. You hold your hand over your chest and make a few coughs. " What?"

He tutted and took the bite he had been playing with. " You spoke of not having steady work, I don't see why you would be opposed. "

You grabbed your cup and took a long sip. It cleared the buttery clumps from your throat. " I'm not! " You quickly tell him and set your cup down. " It's just... "

" Think nothing of it! " He waved his hand and then took a hold of his own cup.

Being around him. All the time, technically living beneath the same roof. You felt like you were going to start to choke again.

You pause and hear whirling of cogs and steam. What in sweet Lucifer's hell? You glance over towards the noise just as a spinning middle blows a hole in the wall right next to where you and Alastor were enjoying a breakfast. Sir Pentious . You remembered the snake man, he often attacked Alastor out of the blue and notoriously was bad at it. Boring. He was boring with his tactics.

You think he was talking now?

" Who are you?" Alastor asked, simply taking another drink of his coffee.

" Alastor, that Pentious... That snake man?"

He looked over at you and tilted his head, his ear flicked a couple of times. " A what?"

" He's attacked you. Like almost every year for the past eighty years?" You raise an eyebrow.

" We've done battle, like a lot?" Sir Pentious could be heard through the speaker system of his airship as it floated not so menacingly above the hotel.

" I don't remember him in the slightest. " He got up and dusted himself off.

He offered out his hand, you take it without hesitation. It was still dizzying when you rematerialized in front of the hole in the wall, which seemed to lead straight into the bar. You glance inside to make sure Husk was still alright. The bartender was picking himself up along with the half split bottle in his hand. You go over and help him up out of the dust and knock a few pieces of the drywall off his shoulder.

" You okay, Hun? " You chuckled.

He shrugged off your help but made a grunt. " I'm fine, that wall just seems to like to take a pounding. " Husk grumbled.

" Well at least your fine. Though seems like the bar needs a bit more cleaning. "

He looked at you for a moment then shrugged. " Eh, you shouldn't worry 'bout me. "

" Someone has to right?" You bump your shoulder against his.

You smile gently and glance back over your shoulder to see shadow tendrils erupting and encasing the airship and crushing it like it was a toy, the serpent himself was being pulverized and tossed about the landed hard in front of Alastor and the gathered residents of the hotel. You step over some of the rubble to get back outside.

A rip of fabric made you wince and look away as Sir Pentious was sent flying across the Pentagram.

Alastor spun on his hoofs and turned back to everyone with that large smile back on his lips. " Seems as if I need to cut our visit short, Y/N , though do take my offer to heart. But it seems as if I need a trip to the tailors. "

" Oh, sure. Nothing to fret over. "

" Perfect! Until then, my dear!" He went to leave.

" Hey! You have to stay and help fix this shit!" The silver haired woman with a ribbon in her hair spoke up.

" Oh yes, my apologies, can't let my project fall into disarray. What would the papers say?" Alastor made a chuckle at his own joke and snapped his fingers. The little minions formed from the shadows and looked ready for construction work. " They will take care of it!"

And with that he twirled his microphone and then started off in the direction of town. You make a small sigh and you could feel eyes on you. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and shake your head gently. You turn for a moment and look at the hotel then, as you were about to start to walk, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

" Hello! I don't think we've properly met!" A large smile and big eyes like a puppy dog. Ah, this must be Charlie. " A friend of Alastor's? That is so exciting!"

" Ah yes wel-"

" And you look normal. Which is surprising." The silver haired woman walked over and put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. Which must have been a sign for the tall young woman to let go of you. " I'm Vaggie, by the way."

" I'm Charlie, and it is so nice to meet you! Will you be coming around more? "

" Oh, I don't know... Maybe , and I'm Y/N. A pleasure. "

Charlie wore a crisp red suit that vaguely smelled of cinnamon and she shook your hand with a bit of vigor that your hadn't been expecting. When she let you go again she put her arms around Vaggies shoulder. Vaggie placed a hand over the one resting on her shoulder and they leaned into one another. Oh.

" You might see me around more. Alastor offered me a job here. I hope that isn't... Well I hope it doesn't step on any toes." You make a small laugh.

Charlie looked down at Vaggie for a moment then back at you. Then she made a smile and shook her head. " Nothing of the sort. I asked him to help me with this place and he already has a whole lot! We could always use another hand around here. "

You hear the nasaly tone from the other day behind you. " Hey! It's you. Hey there~ so you weren't jokin' you and strawberry thin huh~ "

You felt your whole body tense up. " O-oh well"

" Angel! Don't be rude." Charlie spoke up and puffed her cheeks out.

" Aw, I'm just askin' she came all huffin and puffin looking for her prince cannibal last time. No one comes runnin' across the town for just anyone. "

You felt the heat rising to your face. " No ! Well uh, hey woah, look at the time! I have to go..... Check on... My oven! Yes I have a roast. " You start backing up.

Angel Dust wiggled their eyebrows. " Mmm hmm sure, toots. " When he earned a hard look from Vaggie he shrugged his shoulders and put his other set of hands on his hips. " What? If she ain't fucking the creep, she wants ta."

You turn on your heels and quickly walk down the cobblestone path. You cover your mouth, the coughs held in as you could hear the pornstar getting chastised in the distance. The taste of ginger was acrid. Magnolias. You used to think they were beautiful in the spring. Their soft petals marred and clumped with bile and blood.

You kept the petals in your mouth until you rounded the corner outside the gate of the Hotel grounds.

You spit the petals out on the sidewalk. The splatter of blood would be a forgotten stain to join the rest in the streets of hell. The petals already sliding between your feet and lost in the breeze of passing cars. You take a few breaths. You wipe the corners of your mouth with a bit of a tattered handkerchief you kept with you. Stained from years of abuse.

You needed to get something to drink.

Home was empty as you clicked your lights on. No sound except for the buzzing of the iridescent light bulb you used. You walk to your kitchen after flicking on your old t.v, some rerun of some hell-a-novella was playing. Just something to distract you. Radio would just make you want to...

You clear your throat and run the water into the kettle.

Just don't think about it.

Boil water.

Steep tea.

Work at the hotel. Could you even take it?

You would see him back behind his radio broadcast equipment, all lounged and in his element. Get to drink with him again like you used to, see him tap his foot with his eyes closed as he listened to the jazz playing on his radio. Maybe you could finally muster up the courage to...

No.

He would never look at you the same.

You dropped your glass after taking a drink of tea. You cover your mouth and rush to the sink. The tea came up with the swirl of red and a few petals that clog the drain. You hack a few times and the splatter of blood against the ceramic of the sink made your stomach chur. You grip the edge of the counter and your whole body shook.

When your throat finally stopped burning you heard the channel flick in the living room. You swallowed hard and wiped your mouth off. You took out another glass and filled it before you made your way back into the living room. You took a small drink and you looked at the screen.

Vox. Man he had changed since you last saw him.

You take another drink of tea and take a breath, you grab the remote and then the volume up, seeing breaking news flash across the screen. Must be important if Vox was doing the broadcast himself. You almost choked on your tea again as a crude drawing of Alastor popped up.

Maybe you should switch to cold drinks.

You had to turn off the T.V. as the broadcast became a bunch of insults thrown at Alastor. You ended up having to unplug it to get Vox off of your screen. You shook your head. If there was someone else in hell that understood feelings - romantic or otherwise- towards Alastor and them never really going away no matter how much time has passed.... It was Vox, sadly enough.

Vox and Alastor used to be good friends. You remember him coming around a lot in the fifties and sixties. Vox was ambitious, hard working and just a bit sly in his dealings. But to get where he is now, he had to be. But you also remember him sitting for hours and talking about sharks, like they were just the greatest thing to roam the planet. He and Alastor would sit and talk about the future of hell, and what they wanted out of their afterlife.

Then that day came and you never saw Vox again.

He got an upgrade and a new business partner, and he never came around again.

You took a drink from your cup of tea and pulled a book over into your lap. The Picture of Dorian Grey. You sigh and try to focus on the words of the well worn novel but cannot keep focused. The words were just blurring together, and your throat kept scratching. You couldn't even get past the first page before you had the book closed again.

Perhaps a walk would clear your head.

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Taglist: @boldlyenchantingfox22 @sirens-and-moonflowers @kerosene--lamp @girl-nahh-two @phoephan-123

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

(VoxTek prompt of the week)

CW: Severe self depreciation, wishing to not exist (Reader) (unaliving mentions), mental health issues, angst, hurt, comfort.... Read at your own risk

Alastor x Reader

Alastor returns home from work and jovially calls out to you.

Alastor: "Darling, you'll never guess what happened today at the station... Are you there Dear? Is dinner done?"

Alastor walks into the kitchen to see you just standing with your back to him, he tilts his head in mild confusion but passes it off as you playing some sort of game. Seeing the pots and pans still on the stove unused.

Alastor: "Ah, looks like you've been too busy to cook up something delectable for us just yet, hmm?"

He takes off his jacket and tosses it over a chair before sauntering over to stand behind you.

Alastor: "I hope you're not planning on serving us cold leftovers, because I have a ravenous appetite. And I need it to be thoroughly sated, we're both going to require a lot of energy tonight!"

Alastor gently strokes your arms, feeling the softness of your skin beneath the fabric and rests his chin atop your head cheekily.

Alastor frowns when he feels tremors running through your frame, his usual smile dropping as soon as he hears the little sniffles escaping you from behind your hands covering your face.

Now alert to your distress, he rubs your arms, his heart racing utterly... Frightened, his mind racing of what could be wrong, he wasn't gone long, has someone hurt you... Or worse...

Alastor: "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong? Did I worry you? I didn't mean to overwhelm you, we can have whatever you want for dinner, hell I'll make it myself. Please, little bird, let me see your face, are you okay?"

His gentle, warm hands guide you, you put up no resistance as he turns you around to face him, his expression soft with concern.

Alastor: "Tell me what's bothering you. Did someone harm you? Did I do something? We can work through this together? I'm here for you, no matter what, Dear, please just talk to me."

Alastor leans in closer, his warm breath caressing your cheek making it easy for your comfort if you would struggle with volume given that your sniffling and tears started to increase, his stomach dropping, eyes darting side to side as his face pales.

You: "I don't want to be here anymore... I wish I'd never been born..."

The whisper is deafening to Alastor, tears flooding down your face and your trembling increases exponentially, legs going so weak they buckle below you and you close your eyes, expecting the unforgiving pain of the hard floor meeting your already pained bones.

Alastor's heart clenches at the utter despair in your voice. His strong arms wrapping around you swiftly as he notices you wavering, pulling you close against his chest, stricken with fear and panic at what to do, how to help, he buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of you, counting to five in his head and just feeling your soft body in his arms, your warmth, his heart breaking. How could you be feeling this way, that you'd want to leave him like that, is he not good enough? Is he so awful, you hate life so much you'd wish for the empty void of non existence?

Alastor: "Oh, Dove, please don't say that. You are so precious to me, and I can't imagine life without you."

Tears betray his own eyes for one of the few times in memory. He rocks you gently, stroking your hair as he tries to soothe your anguish, wanting to fix this, to get to the bottom of it, to rip out his own fucking guts that you don't feel like life is worth living with him.

Alastor: "We all have dark moments, but they pass. You're stronger than you realize. Just hold on to me, and let's get through this together."

Gazing down at your tear-streaked face, he tenderly tries to wipe away your tears with his thumb, his own eyes shimmering with his own agony, confusion and empathy. Desperate to fix things he can't stop talking.

Alastor: "I know things are tough right now, but please believe me when I say that I love you, flaws and all. Every part of you is perfect in my eyes. You're beautiful, inside and out." Kissing the top of your head.

Alastor: "Come on, let's sit down and talk about this. I'm here to listen and help however I can. We'll figure things out, I promise, I'm not going anywhere, you're not alone and never will be, Darling."

You: "I'm useless and pathetic..." Is all you manage to mumble out, lost in a whirlwind of your own self hatred, thoughts centering around memories of failure, regret and defeat.

Alastor's expression hardens slightly at your self-deprecating words, a flicker of outrage sparking within him.

Alastor: "Useless and pathetic? How dare you speak about yourself that way! How dare you insult the most amazing being I've ever laid eyes on, the one I love with all my soul."

His voice is low and intense, grip tensing around you, he practically growls in your ear.

Alastor: "You listen to me, little bird. You are so much more than those vile thoughts. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly resilient. The fact that you're struggling with your emotions only proves how deeply you feel, and that is a rare and precious quality. One I find even I cannot match, but I can certainly admire and appreciate how lucky I am to have someone as wonderful as you in my life."

Alastor cups your face in his hands, forcing your to meet his gaze.

Alastor: "You are loved, cherished, and valued beyond measure. By me, certainly, but also by anyone who knows you, the real you, anyone worth anything would be able to see how wonderful you are. So cut out this self-loathing nonsense right now, you're mine and I would never choose someone who wasn't utter perfection!"

Leaning in, he captures your lips in a powerful kiss, pouring all his affection, fear and adoration into the embrace.

Alastor: "You are not worthless, my Darling. You are extraordinary, and don't you ever forget it."

Stubborn as ever however, even panting and with flushed cheeks you allow your thoughts to win out...

You: "I'm lazy... Bone idle, so fat it's just going to all get worse. I make excuses and lie to people I am afraid of, I don't do anything I'm supposed to do and it hurts the people around me who deserve better I'm a piece of shit, a bad person, I can't do anything right... Anything I'm supposed to... I-"

Alastor's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he listens to your litany of self-beratement. Before you finish, he pulls back slightly, his grip on your face gentle but firm.

Alastor: "Enough. That is enough of this toxic self-talk, Dearest. It's time someone told you the truth - you are not lazy, you're exhausted from carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You are NOT bone idle, you're overwhelmed and burnt out."

He takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully, holding you firm.

Alastor: "Your size does not define your worth, nor does it dictate your abilities. You are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for and even if you struggle we can do it together. And those excuses and lies? They're just coping mechanisms born from fear and insecurity, a lifetime of mistreatment."

Tilting your chin up, he searches your gaze intently, warm brown eyes piercing your soul.

Alastor: "You are not a piece of shit, my love. You're a complex, multifaceted individual struggling with demons most people can't even fathom. And you know what? That makes you brave, not flawed."

Leaning in once more, he presses a soft, reassuring kiss to your forehead. Wiping more and more tears from the whimpering mess in his arms.

Alastor: "You are not a bad person, and you don't need to do everything right. All you need to do is be true to yourself and keep moving forward, one step at a time. I'll be right here beside you, supporting you every inch of the way, you are still here and that's what I need, and I'm selfish so you aren't going anywhere without me."

An unexpected bubble of laughter escapes your throat taking you by surprise and Alastor's smile returns to his face, fondly brushing your hair away from your eyes. His expression pleading as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding.

Alastor: "My little Doe, you're not alone in this fight. I'm here to help you, to support you, to love you unconditionally. No matter what challenges you face, know that you always have a safe haven in me."

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Alastor: "We'll take things one day at a time, okay? There's no pressure, no expectations. Just focus on getting through each moment, and leave the rest to me."

Smiling encouragingly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers.

Alastor: "You're strong. Stronger than you realize. And with me by your side, well of course you can overcome anything that comes your way, haha!"

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he leans in to whisper in your ear, shivers running through your frame. Hot breath caressing the shell.

Alastor: "Now, why don't we order some takeout? I'm starving, and I think we both could use an indulgence. Oh and Darling do get presentable again, you look utterly obscene and if you don't put that smile back on your face, I'll find another way to do so myself."

As he tightens his hold on you to hold you together, his shirt utterly ruined by your tears and snot, you can't help but be filled with so much love for the man who you feel you never deserved... But won't let you balance the check so to speak, your own arms finally wrap around him in return.

Alastor: "You're mine, no refunds!"

A/N the presentable quip was a direct reference to his 'You're never fully dressed without a smile' quote, not a comment on how you look when crying.

[plush4bunny]

He feels eyes on him, and when he focuses, he notes your warm gaze on him, admiring the formfitting suit he has on. He adjusts his bowtie unnecessarily before teleporting next to you to give you a proper view of the suit you made for him. His battle gear, as you jokingly called it.

- scene from @chrism02’s 18th chapter from their Alastor x reader fanfic called “Bolt from the blue”

[radioisntdead]

Hi I was the one who sent the alstors niece ask quite awhile back and I was wondering could you do another one for me? Maybe the cast reaction to meeting his niece, maybe she came to visit the hotel after he came back from being gone for 7 years. If you want it could be maybe they heard rumors of him having a niece but she stayed out of the public eye

Good evenin' my dear! This was such a joy to write! Hope you enjoy!

Alastor's niece visiting the hotel Headcanons

There were a couple of rumours about the radio demon having a nice but no one really took it seriously, it was just one of those things that could seem completely possible but couldn't be seen as truth.

But it was true, Alastor had a darling niece who unlike her uncle preferred to not rise to power in hell, and that niece was you!

You didn't really feel up to the whole overlord business like your uncle was, just not your thing, so you just faded into the background, hiding away in your uncle Al's shadow to do your own thing.

But then he disappeared, leaving you with no family for seven years but then he came back and invited you to the princess of hell's hotel!!

And so you decided to accept his invitation!

Honestly everyone except Husk and Niffy are shocked that he has a niece, let alone one as nice as you!!

You brought cookies to share, after all you were taught to never show up to someone's house, or hotel in this instance, empty handed!

I imagine you are one of the folks allowed to hug Alastor, so much like the time Mimzy came he gave you a hug.

Honestly Charlie's thrilled to have you visiting, maybe you'd join the hotel too!!!

And you brought cookies! That's so nice of you to do!! And you're not as.. creepy as Alastor, but still very smiley

Vaggie's more on edge, Alastor's niece?? That doesn't sound like good news and those cookies could be laced! This was hell and people being genuinely nice was a rarity.

Husk gives you a simple greeting while Niffy is CLIMBING on you, girlypop is dusting you off and cleaning off any crumbs or otherwise off of you.

Angel dust doesn't really know what to think of you, kinda creepy how similar your smile is to Alastor's.

Sir Pentious thinks you're better then Alastor.

I wonder if you take after Alastor with the deer sinner bit, or maybe another type of commonly hunted animal?

Maybe a raccoon? Perhaps a bunny or maybe even a fox! I definitely think you have a similar smile to Alastor's.

Way less sinister though!

Alastor shows you around the place with Charlie, showing you every nook and cranny, he makes dinner for the hotel that night, after all it's not every day he gets a visit from his darling niece!!

And look at you!! You certainly haven't had your grandmother's jambalaya recipe in years!! Because he was away and he refuses to share the recipe with you.

Selfish bastard.

I imagine you think the folks in the hotel are neat, and you certainly find Charlie's ambitions interesting.

You wonder what exactly your uncle is up to here, he certainly wasn't here helping out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe you'd stay a little longer than you intended.

And if you did get redeemed in the process you could finally get your grandmother's jambalaya recipe! Since your ever grinning uncle refused to share!!

Good evenin' folks!! I do hope you enjoyed these headcanons I'm very sleepy and I'm gonna take a nap now, as always thank you for tunin' on in and I hope you have a wonderful night!

Psst! Join our discord!

[buryustogether]

alastor, who comes back to hotel from an overlord meeting with a twitch in his eye and a white-knuckled grasp around his mic, pouring off waves of irritation that leaves the others scrambling.

alastor, who says nothing but a sharp crackle of your name, a silent command for you to come with him as he makes his way to the room he claimed as his own.

alastor, who is deathly silent in the elevator, only tapping his claws against his mic as he watches the floors pass, his other hand resting heavy on the small of your back.

alastor, who bolts the bedroom door shut and commands you with a single word. “strip.”

alastor, whose eyes grow hungrier and whose smile grows wider and bigger the more you undress for him.

alastor, who fucks you so roughly against the wall first that you swear you see stars as he ruts up into your heat like his life depends on it.

alastor, whose claws dig into the delicate flesh of your skin as he rams into you, and the smell and taste of your blood only pulls him deeper into his daze of lust-fueled fury.

alastor, who rasps and crackles absolute filth into your ear as he maneuvers your knees up to your chest on his bed so he can fuck into you deeper. “such an obedient pet for me, aren’t you, darling? always so good and willing. i think that deserves a reward, don’t you?”

alastor, who allows you to cum first (and licks it up with that long, silver tongue of his) before using you to chase after his own pleasure.

alastor, whose antlers grow and eyes redden further as he approaches his climax, baring his teeth to leave a bite mark in the juncture of your shoulder and laving his tongue over the blood that trickles from the wound.

alastor, who buries himself as deep as he can possibly go inside you before reaching his end and collapsing on top of you as you feel his antlers shrink back and his chest heave with breath.

alastor, who relaxes slowly and even hums a soft, barely-there purr as you gently rub at his pointed ears and caress his scarlet tresses.

alastor, who allows himself just a few minutes of silence before getting himself up and dressed to run a bath for you.

alastor, who forces you to eat the stew he made for you after, even if you’re not hungry. “eat up, my dear. i can’t have my darling doll too weak to take me next time, hmm?”

alastor, who smiles to himself for days when he sees the bruise from his bite mark poking from the edge of your collar.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Alastor rarely lost control of his shadows. It only happened when he was deep in thought planning his next broadcast. Or when he was sleeping. But those moments were few and far between. Though when he did, one shadow, in particular, always came to your side.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, smut, fingering, dubious consent from alastor's shadow, but consent from alastor himself, established relationship, slight misunderstandings, groping, making out, first time together, oral (reader receiving), breeding kink, praise, slight teasing, begging, squirting, alastor has a knot, soft aftercare, alastor's ears are his weak spot, reader holds onto alastor's antlers while they...ykyk

☒ Word Count: 3,756

Alastor rarely lost control of his shadows. It only happened when he was deep in thought planning his next broadcast. Or when he was sleeping. But those moments were few and far between. Though when he did, one shadow, in particular, always came to your side. 

The dark silhouette was playful. You couldn’t help but giggle when the shadow would dance along the wall, morphing into silly shapes. Or when the silhouette would play with the bubbles while you took a relaxing bath. You were pleasantly shocked when the shadow slipped into the tub with you, cupping some bubbles in its palm and forming a soapy beard around your jaw. 

It was harmless fun. You never mentioned it to Alastor because you figured he sent the shadows of his own volition. Your partner had trouble with physical intimacy, so you assumed Alastor was testing the waters with his shadowy counterpart. Little did you know, that was far from the truth. 

In some ways, Alastor’s shadows had a mind of their own. They reflected his deepest desires and emotions. So, when he didn’t keep them in check, it only made sense that one of his shadows would find its way to you. Alastor simply adored you but he only showed you tenderness behind closed doors. Not wanting his reputation to be tarnished- or for you to get caught in the crossfire of any turf wars. So, the attention you were getting from his dark silhouette was more than welcome. 

Over time, things became more… perverse. You had just gotten out of your bath, dressing yourself in your comfiest nightgown, when the shadow made its presence known. You jumped slightly when the void arms wrapped around your waist from where it towered behind you. The shadow nuzzled its face into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your nape. A shudder ran through you as your partner's silhouette pulled your back flush against its chest. 

“This is… different,” You chuckled playfully, placing your hands over the shadow's hands that rested atop your abdomen. Slowly, they began moving down. Your breath hitched when the shadow of sharp nails raked up the tops of your thighs tauntingly, inching higher under your nightgown. Your hands came up to clasp around your mouth, failing miserably at muffling your sinful sounds. The shadow’s hand cupped your panty-clad core, caressing you in a teasing fashion. A moan of your lover's name slipped past your lips as the silhouette became more brazen. It dipped a hand underneath the waistband of your panties before slowly running a deft finger through your slick folds. 

Alastor and you have never done anything sexual. Sure, you shared kisses and warm embraces, but never anything further. You had desires for Alastor in that way, but you never wanted to put him in a position where he would feel uncomfortable. You knew touch was quite challenging for your lover, so respecting his wishes was your top priority. Whenever you got needy, you took care of yourself, plain and simple. But having Alastor’s shadow feel you up so sensually, going so far as to gather the embarrassing amount of slick that pooled in your core with its wicked digit was more than a surprise for you. It felt amazing, better than you pictured. You only wished it was Alastor in the flesh instead of his shadow. But if this was what he was comfortable with until then, you weren’t complaining. 

Sultry whines of yours were muffled by your palm as the shadow dipped a finger into your welcoming heat. You clenched tightly from the sudden intrusion, the pleasure rushing straight to your head. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as the shadow added a second finger, pumping into you slowly. The tantalizing drag of its fingers from deep within your pussy made your legs shake wildly. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, but you were too scared to pinch yourself if this was a dream; because it was certainly one you didn’t want to wake from. 

From atop the radio tower, Alastor was fretting over the fine details for his next broadcast. His eyebrows were threaded in concentration as he typed away at his typewriter, tearing page after page and starting anew. None of what he was coming up with was up to par. It needed to be perfect. Amid all the stress and frustration, his devilish shadow slipped away from him. It sensed that Alastor needed comfort, and you were always his solace. The shadow also picked up on another urge that Alastor had as a cause of all his frustrations; a need for release. 

That’s when the shadow snuck into your and Alastor’s shared room, hence the predicament you’re currently in. But little did you know, Alastor wasn’t immune to his own shadow’s ministrations. Abruptly, Alastor doubled over. Warmth spread through his lower abdomen as he felt all the blood in his body rush south. Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes blown wide as he looked down into his lap. “What just happened..?” Alastor asked himself. His voice fell flat from his usually staticky tone, utterly dumbfounded as to why his body began to betray him. The heat in his belly grew, as did the ache in his groin. Alastor’s face flushed a deep crimson, complimenting his hair nicely as his breaths became labored. “F-Fuck…” He scored his bottom lip with his teeth, drawing blood as his cock twitched with need beneath his pants. Alastor’s nails dug deep into his desk, leaving deep scratch marks as his hips jolted up involuntarily. The need for release was almost painful, and he craved any sort of friction he could get at that moment. 

Alastor took in a shaky breath, attempting to regain his composure. His mind was reeling, but he tried to focus. That’s when he noticed, his shadows went astray. “I rather hate when this happens,” Alastor spat through gritted teeth. He swallowed thickly before standing on shaky legs. He took one last breath before storming out of his radio tower. The need for release was suppressed momentarily as the desire to punish those pesky shadows outweighed. 

As for you, the shadow continued its teasing pace. Each time you got close to the edge the shadow would stop entirely. Dragging out your much-needed orgasm and causing you to feel more desperate than ever. You craved release more than anything. Your mind was fuzzy, all you could focus on was the pleasure Alastor's shadow granted you. The only thing holding you up was one of the shadow's slender arms wrapped around your midsection. If not for that, your shaky legs surely would have given out by now.

Before your mind could catch up, the bedroom door slammed open. In an instant, the shadow that had been toying with you was gone. You dropped to the floor, eyes flickering open to comprehend what had happened. That's when your gaze fell upon Alastor. Embarrassment coursed through your veins at the sight of your lover. "A-Alastor..." Your voice was hoarse from all the whines that slipped past your lips only moments ago. 

Alastor ushered to your side immediately. His gaze was full of worry as you watched a bead of sweat cascade down his forehead. "Oh dear, this certainly wasn't what I expected my shadow to be up to," He trailed off, the static in his voice laced with shame. Alastor grasped your hands in his before tugging you up off the floor. Your legs were still uneasy as you placed your hands atop your lover's shoulders to stabilize yourself. 

"Wait... don't tell me you... didn't know?" Your bottom lip quivered as you avoided Alastor's intense gaze. You felt the tears well up in your eyes before he grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. His other hand sat firmly on your hip, not wanting you to lose your footing. "My darling, I am so... please, forgive me for this vulgar display presented by my shadow. I had no clue that it was tormenting you until... my body became receptive. But not to worry, that wretched shadow will be punished."

The tears fell freely down your cheeks at his words. In a way, you felt rejected by your lover, and you felt stupid for even thinking he desired you in that way. How pathetic, you thought. Alastor wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. His heart ached in his chest upon seeing you in such a fragile state. "How laughable, I really thought this was intentional. Ah, I feel so embarssed... I think I should be the one apologizing, Al," You sniffled, dropping your hands down to your sides, putting a bit of distance between Alastor and yourself.

His expression turned into one of perplexity until it all clicked in his mind. Alastor felt a knot in his stomach. His darling felt rejected by him because she assumed her desires weren't reciprocated. Little did you know, his shadows mirrored his deepest needs. So, your assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. Ah, just what was he to do to mend this?

"Nonsense, dearest. You don't need to be sorry for a single thing. Please, don't feel ashamed. The reason I apologized was because I assumed my shadow forced itself onto you. But to my better understanding, you enjoyed the pleasure it gave you," Alastor's voice deepened. Voice crackling with that signature radio static. His crimson gaze raked over your frame. He felt heat swirl within his lower abdomen once more at the sight of your disheveled state. 

Your panties were pooling at your ankles, and the flimsy straps of your nightgown draped down your shoulders. Alastor didn't fail to notice the slick trailing down your inner thighs, nor the way your legs shook with need. "I really enjoyed it, Al..." You sniffled, a small frown painting your features. Alastor's grip around your waist tightened as the hand caressing your cheek began to trail lower. "Oh my little doe, the feeling is mutual," Alstor whispered, grasping your wrist before guiding your palm to the front of his trousers. A gasp slipped past your lips at the feeling of your lover's hard cock straining against his pants. "You see, my shadows share the same desires as I. They are a part of me, after all," He continued, large palm dwarfing the back of your hand as he pressed you further into his crotch. 

Alastor let out a strangled groan at the much-needed friction, and the sound alone had you dripping with need. "What made you think I wouldn't want to absolutely ravish you? You truly believe fucking you hasn't crossed my mind countless times, hm?" You bit your lip at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Alastor let out a low chuckle, and before you could process it, he ushered you both to the bed. A breath escaped you as your back hit the mattress. In no time, Alastor was crawling on top of you, his slender thighs caging you underneath him. He dipped his face low, nose nearly brushing against yours. "Well, use your words, darling." 

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage as you gazed into his frenzied gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. "N-No! I... I just thought that-" Alastor brought a finger to your lips, shushing you softly. "You thought wrong, my dearest. This isn't quite what I had in mind for our first time, but alas," Alastor's large palms trailed down your body. He pushed your thighs apart with ease, slotting himself between them. A gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of his clothed erection pressing deeply into your exposed pussy. You were sure you had left a wet patch at the front of his pants from his gesture, but you couldn't care less. 

Alastor's gaze never once left yours. He drank up your expressions. The way your lips parted as another whimper escaped your throat was simply adorable to him. Alastor pushed your nightgown higher up your thighs and over your torso before skillfully ridding you of the garment entirely. "My, my... you are quite a sight for sore eyes. I could just eat you up," He inched his way down the bed, still gazing into your eyes as he laid flat on his stomach from beneath your legs. Alastor hooked your thighs over his shoulders, nipping and licking at the sensitive flesh. Pulling moans from your lips and causing you to drip even more with need. His sinful tongue wasted no time delving into your folds. A deep groan escaped Alastor's throat as he tasted you for the very first time. You were absolutely divine, his new favorite flavor.

Alastor dipped his wicked tongue into your needy hole, lapping up all of your slick before trailing higher. The moment his tongue teased at your clit, you were thrashing with pleasure. Without thinking, your hands flickered to the top of Alastor's head. Your fingers wrapped around his growing antlers, holding onto them for dear life as your lover devoured you. He moaned against your clit, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure he was granting you was heavenly; ironically so. You were close, and you craved release more than anything. The moment Alastor wrapped his lips around your clit, giving your nub a strong suck, you were done for. Your orgasm crashed over you, the pleasure reaching its peak as your thighs tightened around your lover's head. "A-Alastor!" Your vision went fuzzy as he worked you through your high, only pulling back when he felt your thighs relax. 

As you caught your breath, Alastor knelt between your legs. He swiftly undid his belt before tugging his trousers low enough down his thighs for his cock to spring free. "You see what you do to me, my dearest? You make me lose my composure, so you're going to have to take responsibility." He quipped, gazing down at you like you were his prey. The sight of his throbbing cock made you clench around nothing. You needed him inside you more than you needed air. Your mind was so fuzzy as you nodded your head in agreement, sitting up slightly to grasp your lover's cock at the base. Alastor let out a low moan as you leisurely stroked him. "I take full responsibility, I promise I'll make it up to you," You babbled, wrapping your free hand around the back of Alastor's neck, successfully pulling him on top of you. Your hand that grasped his length lined the ruddy tip of his cock up to your entrance. Alastor's breath hitched before he whispered, "Oh I know you will, my good girl." 

With that, Alastor pushed his hips forward. Slowly, he sunk into you inch by inch. "F-Fuck... you are squeezing me so tightly..." The stretch was delightful, your lover filled you perfectly. It's like you were made for one another. The moment his balls came flush against the underside of your pussy, you let out a breath you weren't even aware you were holding onto. Alastor's gaze held so much fondness for you, that it made your heart flutter. "Such a sweet little thing, taking me to the hilt with ease. You're mine, all mine." Alastor proclaimed before capturing your lips with his for the first time tonight. He poured all his emotions into the embrace, and your eyes fluttered shut as your hands came up to card through his two-toned locks. Alastor's tongue swiped along your bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. Without a second thought, you allowed him to invade your mouth. You whined against his lips as your fingers found his ears. You felt Alastor's cock twitch wildly from where he was nestled deep inside your warm wet heat. His head shot back in pleasure, breaking away from the kiss as your fingernails grazed the base of his ears. 

The moan he let out was obscene, making your walls flutter around his length. Alastor's gaze darkened tremendously when his eyes met yours again. "I hope you know I won't be holding back after that, my darling. It seems as though my self-control went amiss," He paused, delivering a quick but shallow thrust. A moan was ripped from you as Alastor ground his pelvis into yours, keeping himself deep inside you. "But you're such a sweet little thing, you can take it. Right, my darling?" Alastor quipped, still grinding his hips into yours. Your breath was labored as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. Just enough to answer your lover. "Y-Yes! I can take it- I promise!" You blurted out desperately as you pushed your hips into his, solidifying your words. Alastor let out a half chuckle half moan. It crackled deep within his chest before he brought his face to yours, lips ghosting over one another. "Good girl." With that, Alastor began fucking into you with reckless abandon. His hips pistoned into you hard and quick as deep grunts and groans slipped out of him. You held onto his antlers once more as your lover fucked you senseless.

With each drag of his hips, the tip of his cock prodded at your sweet spot. You were seeing stars. Alastor's hands began to wander as his pace quickened, and your back arched as he tweaked your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your pussy tightened around him like a vise as he toyed with your other nipple. His crimson gaze memorized every reaction you had, making his head spin. Alastor's hands quickly came down to your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. He shuddered as his cock reached deeper inside you than ever before. You were an absolute mess underneath him, but you took Alastor's rough treatment nicely. Just as you promised. "My, my! You're making quite a mess of our sheets darling. My pants are practically soaked with your arousal too! How naughty, I didn't know my darling was this desperate for my cock." His teasing only pushed you closer to your next release, and he knew it. Alastor could fucking feel it. Experimentally, he brought the pad of his thumb down to your clit. Your breath hitched as he began circling your puffy nub. His pace inside you was brutal, but his movements against your clit were painfully slow, making your legs shake wildly from the conflicting sensations. 

"Please, please, please!" You begged, tightening your grasp around his antlers as you pushed your hips into his, meeting his ruthless thrusts halfway. Alastor let out a dark chuckle. The static crackle rang through your ears as he began circling your clit faster. "Please? Please, what, darling?" He teased, slowing his hips slightly so you could get your words out. You let out a small whimper before blurting out, "Please, my love- can I cum? I wanna cum on your cock!" A flush spread to Alastor's cheeks, all the way down his neck from your words. How vulgar, he thought. His cock twitched wildly from within your inviting walls as he fucked into you with vigor, balls slapping against the underside of your pussy, causing lewd sounds to fill the room. "So filthy, my doe. Cum then. Let me feel you try to milk me for all I'm worth." His words were all you needed to cause the coil from deep within your tummy to snap. A throaty whine escaped you as you thrashed wildly against the sheets. Your legs twitched as you came all over your lover's cock. But this orgasm felt different than any other you had before. Your eyes shot down to where Alastor and yourself were connected, and that's when you noticed it. You were squirting. Alastor's eyes widened in shock, the sight of you cumming harshly underneath him pushed him impossibly close to his own release. You hardly had a moment to recover from your orgasm when you felt Alastor swelling from deep inside you. 

"You're going to take my seed like the good little doe you are. I'm going to breed you, mark you so no one ever dares to take what's mine." Alastor manically babbled. The possessive side of him always got you all hot and bothered. With each passing thrust, his knot swelled more and more until he could barely move from deep inside you. Alastor let out a strangled moan as he stilled, finally releasing his load deep within your cunt. You whimpered at the feeling of being filled up by your lover. There was so much. Each twitch of his cock pumped another thick load of cum inside your greedy heat. Alastor must have really been pent up, you thought. He gritted his teeth as the last of his load spilled into you. Alastor collapsed on top of you as his knot began to deflate, and his cock softened inside you. "Alastor... that was amazing." You chuckled breathlessly as your lover slipped out of your warmth. He rolled off of you before standing beside the bed. You watched as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing before he scooped you up into his arms bridal style. "You are perfection, my dear! I'm delighted to know I was able to satisfy your deepest desires." 

Your arms tightened around the back of his neck as Alastor made quick strides toward your private bathroom. He placed you atop the sink countertop before turning to fill the tub. "I didn't know that you, uh-" Heat rushed to your face as you tried to find the words, suddenly feeling rather bashful. Alastor finished adding the bubbles before turning to face you once more. He slotted himself between your parted thighs from where you sat atop the sink countertop, giving you a teasing look as his hands rubbed your sides. "That I...? What, darling?" He knew what you were trying to say, but he wanted to hear you say it for himself. You puffed out your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his slender neck, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Alastor chuckled against your lips before you blurted out, "I didn't know that you- had a... that you could knot... me." You let out a gasp as Alastor picked you up once more. Slowly lowering you into the tub before joining you. "Oh, my darling, there are many things you don't know about me! Maybe next time you'll get to experience more of my... surprises." 

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[redvexillum]

PSA: RACISM, BIGOTRY, ENTITLEMENT IN HAZBIN HOTEL FANDOM

CONTENT WARNING: Inflammatory hate speech, White hate, political baiting, gaslighting, racism, death threats

The messages I’ve received and am addressing below contain upsetting and harmful language that has no place in any community. If these topics are distressing to you, please prioritize your well-being and feel free to stop reading here. Thank you for taking care of yourself.

I never imagined I would find myself addressing this, but here we are. This post is regarding my recent story, Stay With Me, which has stirred up unexpected controversy due to my decision to imply the reader’s race as white. I want to clarify that this choice was made purely for plot purposes.

The story is set in 1920s Louisiana, a time and place where racial and class dynamics were deeply significant. This backdrop was essential to the narrative’s themes of tension and forbidden love, as it explores the societal barriers that would have made a relationship between Alastor and the reader virtually impossible. The decision to depict the reader as an upper-class white individual was not arbitrary—it was intentional, aimed at heightening the drama and emotional weight of their story.

I deeply value the Hazbin Hotel fandom and the x-reader community. Writing for this space has brought me immense joy, and I’ve formed wonderful connections with both readers and fellow writers. That’s why receiving such hateful and inflammatory messages has been incredibly disheartening. The accusations of racism, the vitriol, and the twisting of my creative choices into something they were never meant to be—this has shaken me more than I can express.

To the anonymous senders of these messages: I want to make it clear that my work comes from a place of love and passion. My intention has always been to tell compelling stories that explore complex emotions, societal norms, and the human condition—stories that resonate with readers on a deeper level. To reduce my work to a political agenda or an act of prejudice is deeply hurtful and entirely unfounded.

I want to echo sentiments shared by Kit (please check out her explanation here), another writer in the fandom, who also explored the racial and class dynamics between characters. Like them, I am fascinated by the tension and drama that arise from star-crossed love stories, particularly when societal laws and prejudices forbid such relationships. Writing the reader as white in this context wasn’t about excluding or favoring anyone—it was about creating an authentic narrative rooted in the realities of the era.

For those questioning why I made this choice, I ask: if you can suspend disbelief to fall in love with a cannibalistic, asexual deer demon, why is the reader’s race—chosen for specific plot reasons—the line you cannot cross? My goal as a writer is to craft stories that make sense within their own context. The entitlement to demand otherwise, or to impose personal prejudices onto my work, is unfair and unwarranted.

I hate that I’ve had to turn off anonymous asks. Some of the most heartfelt and hilarious messages I’ve received have come from anonymous users, and losing that connection with my readers pains me. But unfortunately, the actions of a loud, hateful minority have left me with no choice. I will not entertain further discourse on this matter after this post.

To those who have supported me, who have read my stories and shared kind words: thank you. Your encouragement is what keeps me going. Writing for this fandom has been a labor of love, and I pour my heart and soul into every piece I create—for free, might I add. It’s devastating to feel that love overshadowed by hostility.

I won’t let this stop me from creating, but I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t made me question my place here. To anyone who feels entitled to tear down what others create out of hatred or spite: I hope you take a moment to reflect on the harm your words can cause.

To my true supporters: I appreciate you more than words can express. Your kindness reminds me why I love writing in the first place. Thank you for standing by me.

[ohdeerfully]

Hi,

I was wondering if I could request a story. Alastor x reader although they’re more friends at the beginning. And something thats probably not canon.

The reader is doing research for the hotel trying to find proof that souls can be redeemed. In her search she stumbles across newspaper archives about the Louisiana killer. Knowing that its Alastor she becomes interested and through more digging she discovers that his victims were actually all criminals ie rapists, drug dealers etc. She prints some of the info out (I don’t know why) and then back at the hotel she accidentally drops some of the papers and Alastor sees them. I’m not sure where to go from here, I want Alastor to get a bit angry but reader assures him that his secret is safe with them.

I know its long I’m sooorrry! Let me know what you think.

💙💙

heyyy!! thank u for the request sorry it took literal ages to touch...this short fic contains NO ROMANCE sorry alastor lovers. but i hope you still enjoy!

Silence Your Soul

Alastor x Reader (platonic) TW: nothing specific? alastor is a jerk but whos surprised. hazbin typical crimes

masterlist join my discord!

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After Charlie gave you a second chance at her hotel, saving you from the streets in the city of Pride, you were nothing but devoted to her cause. Offering her a hand in trying to prove that the damned can be forgiven and offered a spot in Heaven was the least you could do—although it wasn’t easy.

It was a late evening when you found yourself in an unkempt library at the edge of the city, only tended by a single employee that probably hasn’t seen a soul in weeks. Her excitement upon your arrival made you feel bad, seeing her nearly jump out of her chair as she greeted you made her loneliness awkwardly obvious. You exchanged pleasantries before meandering through the dusty aisles.

You had given yourself a challenge that you weren’t even sure was possible to complete; it seemed more so just busy work to keep you from getting bored at the hotel. Finding proof of redemption for one of Hell’s most prolific Overlords was crazy work, but you assumed if it was possible then virtually any other demon could be forgiven.

Fingers trailed over the spines of historical books and biographies, pursing your lips as you searched the overwhelming amount of titles at your disposal. As rundown as this library was, you would guess it had the inventory of hundreds of ordinary libraries you’d typically find while alive. It didn’t help that you really didn’t have a starting point—you had no clue if you’d even find anything written on Alastor. You only had a vague idea that he was a murderer in Louisiana.

By tedious preservation you eventually managed to find a biography very succinctly titled “Alastor - New Orleans Terror.” You clasped your hands together and raised it to the sky in relief before grabbing the dusty cover and bringing it to the front of the library. After a brief conversation and being asked to sign up for a library card—although more often than not books were never returned—you were on your way back to the hotel.

Charlie had provided you with a little office to do your work in, a small gesture as thanks for your dedication to her idea. You locked your office door and sat down at your desk, pulling a packet of sticky notes and a few pens closer before opening the biography on the resident Radio Demon.

A few hours later, around midnight, you decided to call it for the day with a hefty slam to the book cover. You pushed your chair away from the desk and stretched your arms above your head, bending your back over the head of the chair until a satisfying series of cracks went up your spine. You slumped back down and began to tidy up your area.

The book had a littering of tabs sticking out of the pages, numbered to follow the bullet pointed notes you wrote down on a few sheets of paper. You were pleasantly surprised with what you found out about Alastor, although now you weren’t sure how it would help Charlie’s case in proving all souls can be redeemed. Murder is bad, yes, undoubtedly, but a strong case could be made for Alastor regarding who and why he killed. His reasonings were rather… kind? Somehow? As kind as murder can be.

You tucked the loose pages into the back of the book, holding it firmly to keep all your notes contained. You clicked off your lamp, stood up, pushed your chair back under the desk, and left your office.

Investigators at the scenes of his murders always drew to a similar conclusion—his victims were often rapists, abusers, and two were even politicians with links to trafficking operations. Murder… could be forgiven in this case, right? Of course, Alastor is in Hell for a reason, he’s actually insane and extremely manipulative, but his reasonings for the actual crimes he committed were—

Your thoughts were cut off as you rounded the corner and full body slammed into the man of the hour himself. Shit, how did you not sense his presence? Or, better, how did he not sense yours?

The book in your hand flew almost comically a few paces away, pages scattering out and landing in a messy halo around the book. You took a few stumbling steps backwards, hand pressed against your nose, aching from the impact. Your eyes were blurred with pained tears as you lifted your gaze to Alastor’s smiling expression.

“Hey, shit, I’m sorry,” You said quickly, blinking the haze out of your eyes as you dropped your hand from your face. You began walking towards the book. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

Alastor was faster, beating you to the mess with his much larger stride. “No worries at all, my dear!” He said all too cheerfully for it being the middle of the night. “Awareness goes both ways after all!”

He hummed as he bent over, swooping up the biography with his name plastered grandly on the front. His shit eating grin somehow doubled as he looked back at you, his long index finger tapping on the cover. 

“A fan?”

“Hardly,” You rolled your eyes, playing a bit coy to counter his confidence. “Just picked it up at the library. Since I work for Charlie I figured I could learn a bit about our more famous residents.” 

Your act didn’t seem to put a damper on his cheer as he briefly thumbed through the biography, but it didn’t take long for him to notice the numbered sticky notes. His red eyes casted towards you before looking down at the similarly numbered sheets of paper by his feet. You sucked in a breath before gritting your teeth. You could probably explain yourself through this if you thought fast enough. 

He knelt and gathered the pages, placing the book down so he could use both hands to shuffle through the papers. You waited, tense, as his eyes scanned your notes. As painfully quiet moments passed, you saw his brows furrow and grin grow tighter.

When he looked back at you, his expression remained calm, but you could tell by the harsher prickling of static on your skin that he was frustrated. 

“While I’m quite pleased to see someone so interested in my living affairs,” He said rather forcefully as he stood, papers still gripped tightly in one hand. “This extensive meddling is rather annoying. What was it they said about… that one curious cat?”

The air grew a bit dangerous with his words as his voice dripped with venomous radio static. You were frozen in place, thoughts flying in every possible direction for words to calm the Overlord.

“H-hey, I’m just working for Charlie, you know, like I said earlier,” Your explanation came in an embarrassing stutter. You figured you may as well just tell the truth, although leaving out the part that you chose to research him. Of course, maybe it would butter him up enough to let you go if you told him how interesting you found him and his previous life; you chose to keep your dignity for now.

“Well, I ask you to leave me out of it,” He responded quickly, and you knew he wasn’t really asking. You nodded feverishly, promising to obey and reaching for the papers in his hand. He tutted before moving his hand away.

“I assume you’ve dedicated quite some time to this research, no?” He mused, waving the stack of pages tantalizingly just out of your reach. You sighed in defeat, hand falling to your side. 

“Yeah, a bit,” You admitted, folding your arms. He laughed for a moment and then you saw a green aura emanate from his palm before a burst of flame consumed the papers. Your mouth twisted into a frown as you watched green-tipped embers of your hard work sizzle into nothing on the red carpet below.

“Well! Then that’s far too much sensitive information on my history, so better it to be gone,” He explained, patting his hands together to rid them of any remaining debris. His eyes then turned to the book, swiftly picking it back up.

“Such a fine piece of literature, really,” He sighed dreamily, theatrically tracing a finger over his own name. It almost made you sneer—what a self-absorbed prick. Then, that same green aura lit in his hand. “Shame it has to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait, that’s not mine, I need to give it back to—” A whoosh of bright flame cut off your pleas, and you groaned in aggravation as shards of the book crumpled by his feet. You watched in helpless defeat as Alastor burned any remaining bridges to his living history. Perhaps that book managed to slip under his nose all these years as he built up his title as an Overlord. Now you had the awkward chore of trying to explain to the librarian why you can’t return her book.

“So…” Shit, that ominous tone in his voice was back as he met your gaze. You couldn’t handle the eye contact, so you swiftly looked to the side, down the hall, in meager hopes that anybody could interrupt this scene and save your sorry ass.

“All that remains, my dear, is you,” He stepped closer, and you similarly stepped backwards. The air in the room suddenly felt too heavy, the lighting too dark. Were you crazy, or were the shadows in the corners stretching towards you?

“I can’t have you running around Hell, whispering my secrets into the ears of the unworthy majority, right? No… that wouldn’t do at all,” Another step forward from him, another back for you. This continued for a few steps before your back hit a wall, sending a freezing chill down your spine. You knew running would only enhance his drive to strike you down, so you remained stuck in place. 

The antlers on his head seemed to expand and grow sharper as he reached a hand towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut and grit your teeth. If anything, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. 

The burn of flames never touched your skin, nor did the sting of tearing flesh. You cracked open your eyes, and saw that his arm hovered only a foot away from you, palm turned upwards. His piercing red eyes bore into your own, never leaving even when you struggled to meet his gaze.

“Unfortunately for me, maybe fortunately for you, Charlie is very fond of you,” He sighed dramatically. “But, still, I can’t have you walking freely around knowing what you know. You are now the last source of my history. So…”

His hand nudged, regaining your attention. You swallowed a lump in your throat, adrenaline still pumping through your entire body and creating an uncomfortable pounding in your head.

“My soul..?” 

Alastor’s eyes rolled before his grin curled maliciously. “Well, obviously, how else will I keep you from opening that mouth of yours?”

Your fingers instinctively reached towards your chest, toying with the fabric of your shirt. Was it really worth it?

“I don’t know how much of an incentive you need here, my dear,” He laughed, although his tone gave away his slight impatience. “You give me your soul and your silence, and I give you… your pitiful life. Hm. Sounds fair to me!” 

You chewed on your cheek. Man, fuck it, you didn’t really want to risk finding out if Charlie’s friendship was truly enough to keep Alastor from killing you. Your hand shot forward before you could give yourself any more time to ponder—or, any more time for Alastor to lose his patience and change his mind. 

As soon as your hand folded around his, a near blinding flash of green light forced your eyes shut as you turned your head away, a squealing and staticy noise filling your ears as you felt a heavy pressure on your neck and a lightness in your chest. In a brief moment, the room fell silent again and Alastor yanked his hand from yours.

You slowly opened your eyes again, timidly looking towards him. You didn’t really have any words at this point, only a sense of loss you couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“There, all settled,” He spoke cheerfully, a complete contradiction of his actions just seconds prior. “Have a goodnight.”

Without another glance, he turned heel and walked away, a light hum playing from his lips. You stood there, staring aimlessly down the hallway and then down at the carpet where blackened ashes of his history stood.

Honestly, right now you were just grateful you weren’t a part of the pile.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 28 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: None. For real, none. Well, no- that's a lie. The warning is sand.

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The soft sand shifted under your feet as you walked, arm looped around Alastor’s, bodies just brushing against one another as you walked. Above head, seagulls called and swooped through the air, living their lives as if there was nothing that could go wrong in the world. Late afternoon sunlight glittered against the waves as they lapped at the shore, reaching out toward you from the endless expanse of water. 

You walked barefooted, each step so close to Alastor’s bare feet. He had the legs of his pants rolled up, exposing his tan ankles and calves. Your shoes, tied to his laces, swung from your hands in time with each step you took. The ocean breeze cooled the warm air, ruffling your hair as it kissed your skin. 

Dinner was far from extravagant. Alastor had been right; there were little food carts and stands dotting the boardwalk. You had a meat pie in your hands, gravy rich and thick, surrounded in a flaky crust. It was simple, delicious and a perfect dinner shared while walking along the beach. 

Alastor chuckled as he wiped gravy from your cheek. “Enjoying it?” 

“Yes,” you dabbed at your face with the napkin, knowing it was a lost cause, Alastor had already wiped away the smear of gravy. “Laurence wouldn’t let me eat something as rich as this.” 

“Good thing he isn’t here,” Alastor said, slowing to a stop in front of a trashcan to toss his trash in. You did the same, only to be wrapped in his arms as soon as your hands were empty. “This weekend is for us, not him. He can’t touch us here. He isn’t here. It’s just you, me, and the ocean.” 

“I know,” you sighed, leaning into him. “I’m just- I don’t know how to do this, Alastor.”

“Just follow your heart,” Alastor said, kissing you softly when you turned to look up at him. “That’s all we’re doing. It doesn’t have to be anything more complicated than that, not right now.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, not knowing how to argue with him when he looked at you with those warm brown eyes. It wasn’t fair how he could stop your brain from thinking and send your heart beating too fast in your chest with something as simple as a look. 

“Good,” he said, kissing you again before tugging you down to the sandy beach, shoes swinging and bouncing between you. 

“I’ve never been to the beach.” You confessed as you kicked at the sand, sending it flying through the air as he lead you along. The soft sound of your laugh rang out when a seashell sailed along the wave of sand. 

“Never ever?” Alastor asked, kicking his own foot, sending more sand flying in front of you both. “Does that mean you’ve never built a sandcastle?” 

“Nope.” You giggled, feeling for the first time in a very long time like the young girl you had been before you were married. He began tugging you along as the walk became a jog, your skirt bunching over your knees as the pace quickened, sand kicking out from around both of your feet.

He pulled you closer to the water, soft dry sand giving way to heavier waterlogged sand. Then the splashing of water, the hem of your skirt and his pant legs soaked with the spray as you both continued running, freely. You only slowed as you came upon some trash, paper cups half burred in the sand. 

Alastor’s hand left yours, leaving you instantly wanting for the warmth of it again. Too soon, you wouldn’t be able to casually indulge in the feeling of his hand in yours. For what short time you had, you wanted to soak it up as much as you could. 

“What are you doing?” You asked as Alastor bent down, grabbing the wax coated cup in the best condition and examining it.

“Let’s make a sandcastle?” He held out the cup to you as if it was a prize. “Have another first with me?” 

“Alright,” you couldn’t help the laugh in your voice as he snagged the second cup, much worse for wear, and led you up higher along the beach, just out of the reach of the waves. 

“Here’s good,” Alastor said, tugging you down as he knelt in the sand. His large hand made quick work of smoothing the sand out. You struggled to pay attention to what he was doing, far more captivated by the boyish smile on his face.

Was that what he looked like as a young man? How lucky you would have been to have had the honor of knowing him before the weight of the world had really weighed on his shoulders. 

“Are you going to help?” 

Of course,” you answered quickly as you knelt in the sand. 

The grains clung to your damp skirt and wet feet as you scooped sand in your cup. When you turned the cup over, trying to stack the sand in a neat tower, you were faced with disappointment as ran freely off the pile. You pouted before trying again, refusing to be defeated by the simple task children would surely know how to do.

“Let me show you,” Alastor spoke softly, smiling as he stood. 

Sand clung to his pants just as it did yours. He didn’t spare it a thought as he jogged down to the water’s edge, filling the cup with water. You watched as he dumped it into the sand in front of you before reaching down, showing how it clumped in his hand. “Add a little water and it holds together.” Water splashed as he poured water into his hand. “Too much, and it runs freely again.”

Together, you and he stacked cupfuls of wet sand atop one another, sometimes squishing it down with your hands to form something wider for a base. Fingers brushed fingers in innocent, comfortable touches. Laughter carried on the ocean air as you took turns, running to the waves to collect more water. As towers came to life, tilted though they were, you couldn’t help but admit you were having the time of your life. 

With finger tips and seashells, you etched details into the wet sand and decorated the castle. At times, you or he ran off, searching through the sand for the perfect shell for a doorway or a window as Alastor sat in the sand, watching you.

The castle didn’t look good. It didn’t even look like a castle, really. But it was something you had built with your hands. It was something you created with Alastor and you loved it. 

There wasn’t much you could say was built during this thing you shared with Alastor. There was a bond, there was a stack of letters tucked into a slit in the bottom of your bag that you knew you really needed to burn, and now there was a rather terrible looking sandcastle. 

How little you had with him brought bitter tears to your eyes that you blinked away. What little you had with him was beautiful, a hidden gem that only you and he could see. You’d treasure it for as long as you could, the price it would cost you be damned. 

“What’s wrong?” Alastor asked, fingers working around your hand sitting on the sand. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to Alastor as you looked up from the creation, crumbling as it dried. 

“For what?” He asked, “I haven’t done anything.” 

“This weekend.” Looking down, you ran your fingers over the damp sand. “For being with me on my first trip to the coast.”

“I am honored to be your first anything,” Alastor said, leaning in and placing a soft, chaste kiss against your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as waves lapped at your toes with the rising tide. It was a matter of time before the waves swept away your creation. 

His hands rested on your hips as one kiss began melted into another. You breathed eachother’s air, and you tasted eachother’s lips as he pulled you closer. A gasp slipped out of you as he settled you into his lap. Alastor’s soft warm tongue slipped between parted lips after he nipped at your full lower lip. 

Strong hands ran up and down your back, taking in the feel of the zipper along your spine and the seams of the dress. You soaked in the feeling of his hands moving over you, braved doing the same with your own hands on his body. It felt like your heart would beat out of your chest as his lips left yours to trail kisses down your jaw. 

This was wrong, you knew that. It was indecent. It’s not how ladies carried themselves in public. It certainly wasn’t how a married woman should act. None of that mattered enough to you at the moment to ask him to stop. 

His lips worked along your neck, leaving fire burning under your skin. Careful nips that left a trail of pink that Alastor knew wouldn’t develop into any lasting marks that would raise questions littered your skin. You couldn’t help but tilt your head, giving him more space to work as your fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. 

“This isn’t proper,” you whispered, gasping for air as his tongue ran along the straining tendon along your throat, up again to kiss under your ear. 

“There’s no one to see,” Alastor whispered. “And this is a town for lovers. We’re far from the first to neck on the beach.”

Letting your fingers relax, you ran your palm up his chest, around his shoulders. Everything about him felt so strong under your hand. There was no give, nothing but hot steel. It made you feel safe, secure in his arms. 

Cold water splashed over your back, soaking your hair and washing over your head. Icy water poured over your shoulders, splashing onto Alastor’s shirt. He jerked back from the sudden cold so harshly that he fell back against the sand. 

You fell forward with him, hair dripping down around you as the shocked look on his face bloomed into a smile and a roaring laugh. You couldn’t help but be pulled into it, laughing as his hands rested on your lower back. His chest jerked, vibrating with the joy of his laugh. 

“You’re soaked,” he whispered as he finally settled again. 

“So are you.” You marveled at how warm his chest felt under your hand. 

Leaning down, you hesitated, wanting to feel his lips on yours again. The idea of initiating a kiss when you were already in such a compromised position left you feeling shy, timid. This was something that happened in books, in movies, in daydreams. It wasn’t something anyone got to have in real life.

But you were here, laying atop Alastor, a man you loved. His warmth radiated up into you. The sounds of the beach were all around and yet what you could hear most of all was his breathing. 

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Alastor whispered, head resting against the sand, wet hair giving way to curls.

Leaning down, you shut him up. Sighing into him, you melted as his hands ran up your wet back. Waves caressed up your legs, fighting for your attention while his hand tangled in your wet hair. 

This was right where you belonged. He was where you belonged. 

It felt good to lie atop him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the cold ocean water lapping higher along Alastor’s side and your legs with each wave. Water rushed up your skirt, sending sand along your legs, but you were far from eager to move. 

Alastor kissed you as if he would find salvation in your mouth and you let him. It was terrible, indecent. It was something you should have felt shame for, and yet there was nothing you wanted more than to feel him against you for every second you could. 

Alastor rolled his torso slightly, dumping you off of him and onto the sand. In a heartbeat, he was atop you, kissing you deeper still as his chest settled against yours, pushing you deeper into the sand.

It was on your sides now that the water lapped at but you didn’t care. This was your chance to wrap your arms around him, to touch his back and feel the way the muscles flexed under your touch. You were greedy with the opportunity, feeling the way his body warmed the wet shirt he wore. 

The warmth of his skin soaked into her hands. You couldn’t stop yourself from bunching the fabric under your fingers as you pulled him closer. The feeling of his lips again on your neck was driving you mad, leaving you a gasping mess, uncaring for the sand that your wet hair was surely collecting. 

You struggled to think. Had you known kissing someone could feel that good? That being kissed could feel as good as this. 

Alastor’s hand gripped your ribs as his lips worked along your collar, taking in the breathy gasps that slipped past your lips. 

He couldn’t help but wonder how much more you would let him push. The warmth of his hand spread as he caressed higher, gripping softly before moving on, always giving you a chance to stop him until his hand caressed the swell of your breast. 

There was nothing painful or taking in the way he touched you. Every caress left you gasping, begging, wanting more. Never had you wanted to be touched in such a way. 

You didn’t know it could feel good to be touched like this either. It left you wanting more of his touches. That fire in your belly was burning again, the need sending your hands on a greedy mission to take in the feeling of his torso, the muscles of his chest and arms. 

“We should get back,” Alastor said, lips moving against your neck, just above the collar of your dress as he spoke. “The sun is setting. Tide is coming in. We’ll be under water soon if we keep doing this here.” 

As if to reinforce Alastor’s words, a larger wave washed over your bodies, drenching your dress and Alastor’s pants. 

He pulled back, sitting up and helping you to do the same. You couldn’t help leaning into him, kissing him hard again, wrapping your arms around his neck before untangling again. 

The feeling of him was intoxicating. It was like his touch chased away every bit of pain from your life. He erased it all, leaving behind just the woman you could have been. You never wanted to leave this beach, this place where you could just be a girl in love. 

Alastor pulled you to your feet, chuckling at the sand in your hair and coating both of your clothes. 

“Let me rinse the sand out of your hair.” Alastor knelt down, grabbing the cup before filling it with ocean water. He then used to rinse the sand out, covering you in fresh water. 

You shook your head, flinging water and san everywhere. Holding his hands up, alastor laughed before doing the same. With the water in his hair, it had returned to the wild curls you had so rarely gotten to see. 

“What?” He caught you looking at him, face flushed. He looked as young as you felt in the moment. 

“Your hair looks good with the curls,” you whispered. 

“You say that now, it looks alright wet.” Alastor brushed off the compliment. 

“Will I get to see it dry?” You asked as he rinsed the sand from his own hair, shaking the water out again. 

“I suppose so,” he said after a moment, reaching out for your hand. “I don’t usually straighten it until after coffee.” 

“I look forward to seeing it,” you admitted blushing, walking hand in hand with Alastor as if you hadn’t just been taking in the feel of him in public. 

“I’ll get to see you with your wild morning hair as well,” Alastor pointed out, “It’s only a fair trade. Are you sure you still want to make this deal?” 

“I do,” you said after a moment of thought. “It’s a part of spending the weekend together, isn’t it?” 

Alastor rounded on you, snagging your chin between his fingers and pulling your face up to look at him. “It is,” he said, after placing a longing kiss on your lips. “As is continuing to act like young lovers.” 

“What does that mean?” You asked as his smile grew wider. 

“It means, let’s race.” 

Alastor’s laugh was all that was left of him as he tore off ahead of you. After blinking twice, you ran after him. Laughter spilled out from you as you ran as fast as your legs would carry you. 

Ahead of you, Alastor tripped, stumbling to catch himself as you closed the distance, heart hammering in your chest. Then his foot slipped out from under him and you overtook him, kicking up sand behind you. It shouldn’t have been possible, with the way your heavy wet skirt tangled between your legs.

The door was so close now. The rush of having Alastor hot on your tail pushed you forward. The cobble stones bit at your feet but you didn’t care. Faster, faster! 

You reached the door with a crash, turning to rest your back against only to be met with Alastor crashing into the door, pinning you between him and it. Both he and you were breathing hard, gasping for air. 

“I won,” you said, chest heaving with each gulping breath. He let you win, you knew that. He had a foot of height on you. With legs so much longer than yours and clearly being fit, you knew you had no chance to beat him in an actual foot race. 

“You did,” he whispered. 

You felt brazen, bold, as adrenaline still pumped through you and asked, “What’s my prize?” 

Alastor kissed you rather than answer, holding you firm between his body and the door. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers running through the damp curls at the back of his head as he worked his knee between yours. 

You gasped as he pressed his thigh into your core carefully. This was everything you had wanted, craved, and were too terrified to ask for. It was what you dreamed about, alone sitting in the tub as your hand ghosted over flesh you were still too scared to explore. 

Alastor held your hip tightly in his hand as he reached for the doorknob, working the door open. You giggled, floating on a cloud of elation as he pulled your lip between his teeth. There was a hint of pain as his teeth grazed over where your lip was still healing from the blows your husband had dealt. 

The pain should have made you cringe away but instead, you leaned into it. It felt like his teeth were scraping away the memory of what had been done to the lip, replacing it with a passion filled ache. 

“I love you, Alastor,” you whispered as his lips moved to your neck. “I shouldn’t, but I do.” 

“I love you too,” Alastor said and you couldn’t remember if he had ever said it to you before. Your mind was floating away as he replaced everything you knew. You wanted to hear him say it as many times as you could. 

Alastor wrapped his hand around behind the small of your back, grabbing ahold of you and pulling you tighter against his body as he twisted the knob. The door fell away from behind you and Alastor controlled the clumsy stumble into the villa, holding you tightly as he kicked the door closed behind him. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Till death do us part ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : What if Alastors dear little darling wife, his partner in crime, the person he thought he'd never see again, turns up with Mimzy on the day of the visit of the big boss of hell.

Pairing : Alastor x fem! Reader

Word count : 1899 Words

Genre : Fluff , Drama , Angst

Warnings ➵ Mentions of death, you're shorter than

Vaggie, possessive Alastor, swearing

Prequel -> > The radio star lost <

a/n : I love this trope ngl, tried to not make him to much out of character, hope it worked.. T T

Also I'm rather new to Hazbin Hotel, so I say sorry if anythings seems wrong or out of character! ><

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

The whole hotel was a bit chaotic right now, Lucifer himself would be visiting in just a bit and Charlie wanted everything to be perfect. Colorful decorations were hanging everywhere, a banner was hung up for welcoming the king of hell, how does one even welcome the king of hell into their hotel? Charlie was probably the most stressed of all, but Vaggie did her best to calm her nervous wreck of a girlfriend down.

The moment Lucifer stepped into the hotel was meant to make everything go down, Alastor and his Ego had somehow always a snarky remark against Lucifer. Charlie tried her best to keep them apart, introducing her other friends, before she announced how she would be needing his help. And again the banter between the king of hell and the radio demon started all over again. As if throwing insults at each other before wasn't enough already, now they were pulling at Charlie left and right, like two babies fighting over a toy.

But all things come to an end, which Charlie was thankful for right now, as Mimzy, apparently a friend of Alastor, which was interesting to know he even had any, came barging in with a grand entrance. As the woman now settles down at the bar, talking with the others, Alastor and Charlie took Lucifer on a walk around, Husker disappearing for a second too, but soon joining them at the bar again, a scowl on his face, but something else, undescribable behind his eyes.

A bang was heard through the whole hotel as the entrance door was slammed open and heard could be an angry voice. "MIMZY! You little bitch!" A demon, a slight bit shorter than Vaggie probably, walked in. A scowl evident on the face, as her eyes scan over the place, before falling on the woman she was looking for. "How dare you leave me in the shit like that?! You've got it coming if those sharks don't kill you, I certainly will!" Ignoring the questioning looks of Angel and Husker, you stomp over to the blonde, ready to yank at her hair, when suddenly a bit of debris was thrown through the window and landed beside you, barely missing you by a hair. "The fuck?" The demon's head craned around, looking out the window and there they were, those fuckers Mimzy was in debt to.

You didn't really have time to react much, as three people stormed into the entrance hall, all you could catch was a glimpse of red before the person ran outside, screams of the sharks could be heard, at least those were finally taken care of.

The loan sharks were gone and fought off quickly by that person, his voice now directed to Mimzy, your own eyes on her yourself with a scowl. She and that red demon apparently knew each other quite well, as Mimzy was walking to the door, you finally really looked at the demon. He had short red and black hair, ears sat atop his head, despite scowling Mimzy he was smiling, though a sinister smile it seems. His attire was almost completely red too, a cane was clutched in his hands, as he watched Mimzy walk off, you could only make out a small part of his face. The man seemed so familiar as if you had known him for a long time.. Your heart was running a mile right now, it was getting hard to breathe, and then...

"Thank you Alastor, really.." The long-haired blonde spoke up.. That name, it couldn't be right? Mimzy would've told you, she knew him, she would've definitely told you.. right? You must be mistaken right now.. Your eyes were fixated on the man called Alastor, the voices and sounds around you were all a mush, drowned out as your brain was going all around. Now that you could see his face, he definitely had some resemblance to him.. to your late husband, who had died before you. You were his assistant, his partner in crime, when the news hit you that he was shot, it broke your heart, but still, you continued on alone, killing. That's probably what also got you to hell, well sooner than later you were figured out and soon arrived here in hell.

"Yo smiles, this girly is gawking at you for minutes now." Slowly voices were coming back to you, the white spider beside you talked, pointing his thumb at you, the red-haired now meeting your eyes, his ears straightening and standing alert like the ones of a deer caught in headlight. What irony if he was your Alastor, the irony of dooming him with deer-like features, after getting shot assumed for a deer while hiding one of the many bodies. That day you decided to let him go alone, oh if you just hadn't done that, maybe you both would be alive or you would've at least arrived together in hell.

Alastor was taking slow steps to you, the smile on his face looking strained, yet it never disappeared, his hand was reaching out for you but stopped. Eyes moving over your form, taking in everything. Resemblance to his wife evident, but.. how did he never notice you before? Had he ever met you, walked past, maybe even taken a second glance but dismissed this feeling he has right now.

Swiftly he grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him, ignoring the calls of his name of the other residents, his mind plagued by one only thought, more like one only person.. you.

Stumbling behind him, his grip rather firm on your wrist, yet it felt comforting as if you knew he would never hurt you. Not in your lifetime and also not now in your afterlife. Eyes watching the back of his head, you were wondering what expression his face harbors right now. Was he happy? Was he confused? Disappointed? Maybe he knew where you were all this time but didn't want to meet you. No, he wasn't like this. He may have been distant sometimes while alive, but in the end, he was always a darling to you. Taking care of you, just as he vowed on your wedding day. A distant memory, yet one of the most beautiful ones you have.

A door was opened and as you were pulled inside, the door closed. Steps echoed through the room, you noticed a forest on the other side of the room, but that didn't rather faze you, eyes on him again.. and him only. "Al-" You were interrupted by laughter, the man before you was hugging himself, his arms around him, yet you still weren't able to see his face. "D-Do you know.. How often have I thought about you?!" His voice was loud, a static sound like from a radio accompanied it. One of his hands was tearing at his hair now. "That bitch never told me... I'll make sure to kill her for that.. She kept you from me.." The laughter got even louder, as if the man before you was going insane.

This behavior was nothing new to you, he used to be like this, high on adrenalin when another murder was successful.. Or when he was close to being figured out by the police and detectives, yet he always slipped away right through their incapable fingers.

"I always wondered what happened to you, if you grew old with someone new.." If you were able to see his face right now, you would be able to see the sinister yet possessive smile on his face, his eyes darting around the room.

This all ended in a second when he felt a soft hand on his. He knew this hand, he also knew the person it belonged to like the front of his pocket. "I would never, I carried on alone in your memories, yet I was never as skilled as you darling, so sooner than later they connected all the dots to me." A low chuckle could be heard again, the static radio sound calmed down again too. The tall man slowly turned around now, his hand engulfing your own, his fingers softly running over your own, before he linked them together. How he had missed this feeling, despite having a distaste for people touching him, you were different. Your touch felt warm, like the summer sun kissing his skin, it felt comforting.

"I've missed you mon amour.." His voice was soft, probably the softest it had ever been since he had arrived in hell. His hand guides yours up to his lips, as he closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, a smile, now softer, on his lips. He was never one for kissing you on the lips, he definitely favored kissing your hand, like the gentleman he has always been. "I figured with how you were talking seconds ago my dear.." A soft smile was creeping up onto your lips too, mirroring his own one. Red eyes open again, your hand still pressed to his face, but now he was rather holding your hand to his cheek. "Oh how I wished I could've stayed with you my darling, we would've been so successful.." Giggling at his words, with him at your side, you probably would have been going for a long time. "But who says we can't be successful now?" A smirk etched its way onto your husband's face, oh how he loved your daring little mind, always thirsting for blood. With you by his side again now, he would definitely be able to get everything done that he wanted.

"Shall we go back? I want to meet your friends properly." Wanting to pull away your hand, he softly gives you a tug, your head landing on his chest now. Wide eyes look the the side now, as you weren't really able to move, his arms having snaked around you and his chin resting on your head. This was unusual much physical contact, but figured that you hadn't seen each other for multiple decades he yearned for your touch just a slight bit. Your arms lying around him, embracing the hug. "Let's just stay here a few minutes more, we got enough time to introduce you to everyone down there but for now.. let me have you for myself." Nodding softly, your head rests on his chest, as your eyes close and you simply enjoy the presence of your dearly beloved husband.

"What do you mean 'married to smiles'?!" Angel, as he was introduced to you, shouted from his place on the couch now, staring at you flabbergasted. "We've been married for quite a few years before his death." Smiling you answered his question. Alastor didn't like all the attention you were getting, but sooner than later he would have you all to himself again when you two go back to his cozy hotel room or the radio tower. "So you two fu-" Angel wasn't even able to finish his question before he shut himself up as he noticed the look on Alastors face. This time he would've been dead for sure if he finished that question.

Overall everyone invited you happily into their little hotel family, it was amazing. Charlie immediately took a liking to you and if you're being honest she quickly was viewed by you like a daughter.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

─ ★ You were far too tempting to not try something like this, far too. Alastor honestly wished the people could see him fucking you. The way your moans spilled past your lips. Your little squeals that was broadcasted so everyone could hear how good he was making you feel.

"A-Alastor."

A deep chuckle escaped the Radio demon's lips as he pressed you agains't his desk. His nails digging into your hips as the tip of his cock brushed your slick entrance. "Such a good girl." He purred into your neck. A small whimper escaped your lips as you did your best to push back into his thrusts. Your whimpers and moans echoed in the room. Warmth creeped up your neck knowing that demon's would be hearing your moans. Your nails digging into Alastors desk as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Though all it took was one thrust to having you cumming, his name being tore from your throat.

A shudder running through his body, his nails digging into your hips drawing blood feeling your walls clench around him as he continued to thrust until he finally released into your pussy, feeling him fill you with his cum as he let his teeth sink into your neck. Then once you finally came down from your high, Alastor let his tongue glide across your skin. "Such a angelic voice you have my little dove, I cannot wait for our listeners to hear it again."

A/n: it's 6am, i can't sleep.