#HellsGreatestInternationalWomensDay

[aneldritchfootnote]

VI The Lovers

As requested by mscaseyj on Bluesky

In honour of International Women's Day 2025 and @hellsgreatestevents's initiative to raise money for the Lilith Fund!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Crushing This Crush (Alastor x Reader)

AN: A bit late but for @catticora in honor of their donation as a part of last week's event put on by @hellsgreatestevents!

CW: Alastor being a shit

Request: Reader tries to get over Alastor and writes down a list on “how to get over her crush” and he happens to find it and foil her plans into loving him more

The decision to move into the Hazbin Hotel was a natural one. You didn’t want to die and the general selections of jobs you could do to make a living wage in pentagram city was… lacking. What also was natural, unfortunately, was your crush on the walking red flag of a hotelier. 

That’s how you ended up in this mess in the first place. At least, that’s what you blamed it on. It was following red flag men through their terrible choices that landed your ass in hell. 

Charlie said you needed to take accountability for your actions or you’d never be able to progress in the redemption program, but you just didn’t buy it. The least you could do, however, was not repeat the mistake again. 

That’s what had you sitting behind your laptop in the hotel library researching ways to not fall harder for the handsome red flag that was Alastor. Unfortiently, research wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world and you quickly ended up with your head cradled in your arms, resting partially on your notes. 

That’s how Alastor found you, cocking his head to the side as your shoulders moved slightly with every calm breath you took. How you had survived for years in hell, soul all your own still, Alastor couldn’t guess. You were so careless as to drift off to sleep in a public space. 

He was less than pleased with the presence of your travel computer on the desk. They were distasteful machines, making the users lazy when it came to seeking and verifying information. 

Alastor stepped closer to you, snagging a throw blanket off the back of the couch. Of all the places you chose to sleep, you picked the least comfortable ones. He wouldn’t save you from the kink in your back that would punish you for your choices, but the least Alastor could do was drape a blanket over your shoulders. He had a duty to the care and keeping of the hotel residents, to an extent. 

The writing on the paper caught his eye. Your looping letters elegantly crossed the page. The title scrawled atop the sheet demanded he investigate more, reading “Crushing This Crush”. 

“Oh, dear.” Alastor murmured softly, carefully working the notebook out from under your arms. “And who is the target of this…” 

“Goal:” the page stated boldly. “Kill the crush on Alastor by any means necessary.” 

“Me?” He chuckled, eyeing your sleeping face, seeing you in a new light. Things made more sense under the light of this new information. “Very interesting.” 

Alastor’s fingers twitched as the single notebook duplicated in his hand. The newly created duplicate melted into the shadows, leaving the original behind. Carefully, he lifted your arms and tucked the notebook containing your poorly hidden plans back under you. 

Would you guess it was he who brought you a blanket? He didn’t know, nor did he care. What mattered to him was that this was surely going to be entertaining. 

Step one in crushing your crush on Alastor sound have been simple enough. Minimize exposure to the man himself. How hard was it to just not spend time around him? You just had to stop seeking him out and it would be done. 

It’s not like he typically hung out in the general spaces of the hotel. 

It should have been easy, so why was it while you sat on the couch in the hotel lobby, nose in a book, his weight settled next to you? He didn’t even sit in the armchair like he usually would. For the first time in your existence, he asked you what you were reading, striking up a conversation with you.

This was not good. This was very much bad for your crush. This was how your crush would get worse. Not good at all. 

You stood up in a rush, stammering out some bullshit excuse about having to walk your fish before all but running out of the lobby, the rich sound of Alastor’s laugh following you down the hall. 

That was far from your only failure at distancing yourself from Alastor. He called on you to attend to errands with him he sure as hell didn’t need help with. The man had tentacles and shadow powers and yet somehow he needed your help to carry supplies for the hotel? 

And why the hell did he need your help to buy new clothes? Did he even wear anything other than the same outfit every single day, anyway? You couldn’t remember when you ever saw him wearing something different, but somehow you still ended up sitting in a tailor shop as he asked your opinions on cuts and fabrics. 

Step one was a failure, but that was alright, there were other steps you could take. 

Step two was to focus on growing your own interests and hobbies independent of your crush. After much thought, you settled on photography for the new hobby of choice. Charlie was ever so excited when you told her your plans and before you knew it, she helped you gain your own state-of-the-art digital camera, sure to double as an Alastor repellant. 

Or so you thought. 

Alastor seemed to be drawn to your new hobby, the digital camera be damned. He would stand outside the view, next to you, and comment on the quality of image, eagerly offering you a film camera to try instead. 

What you intended to be a hobby to distract yourself from and separate yourself from Alastor only ended up fostering your crush more. It became something you looked forward to doing because of the time you’d spend with him.

Step two was a failure. 

Step three to crushing your crush was one you had hoped to avoid doing but with the failure of the first two steps, you had little choice but execute step: Seek support from others. 

That had you sitting on Charlie’s bed, looking at her and Vaggie as you twisted the hem of your shirt between your fingers. They always said the hardest part of doing anything was to start and Satan damn it, that was true for this. 

“Is everything alright?” Charlie asked, breaking the silence. 

“No.” The word comes out as a long, drawn out whine as your tense shoulders deflate with the air leaving your lungs. “I just… I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“About what?” Vaggie asked, voice melting with Charlie’s assurances that you could come to them about anything at all and how happy she was that you would open up to them. 

“I have a crush.” The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush, quickly drown out by Charlie’s squeal of joy. 

“Why is that a problem?” Vaggie was the ever reliable voice of sanity to her girlfriend’s supportive joy. 

“I need to not have a crush.” 

“But why?” Charlie seemed to melt at the death of her fantasy. 

“He’s not a good guy.” 

“Who is it?” Vaggie was tense, prepared for you to deliver the worst option possible.

“It’s Alastor,” you confided, unaware of the smiling shadow hiding behind the curtain, tall ear cocked toward the gossiping girls. 

Step three was to have someone you trusted talk some sense into you. That’s what you expected Charlie and Vaggie to do. Instead, Charlie was eager to explore the idea of if love- a word you were far from ready to label your silly little crush- would be enough to convince both you and Alastor to try redemption. 

Step three was a failure. 

Step four to crushing your crush was the nuclear option. You wanted to avoid it at all costs and yet everything else you tried, failed. That left you standing in front of Alastor as he sat reading in the library. 

You’d been sitting next to him, struggling to read the pages of your book and not focus on the rich earthy way he smelled, the way the scent of moss seemed to surround him, as if he shoved handfuls of the stuff in his pockets each morning. 

Each day that passed made it harder to think with Alastor near you. That was what drove you to preparing for step four. 

“Is there something I can assist you with, my dear?” Alastor asked, not looking up from the old detective novel he had surely read hundreds of times in his hand. 

“I… can we talk?” 

“Are we not doing so right now?” Alastor’s ear flicked when he turned the page. 

“Alastor, it’s important.” 

He snapped the book closed and set it aside, giving you his whole attention. “Well, if you say it’s important, who am I to delay?” 

That was it. You were out of time and he was waiting. That was when the words failed you. They ran away from your mind like the rest of you wanted to. Silence ticked on as he waited, looking directly into your eyes as you prepared to be shot down. 

Step four was to tell him and clear the air, allowing you to be rejected and move on. It would hurt and maybe he’d kill you for it, but there was something to be said for ripping off the bandage. All you had to do was spit the words out and prepare for unending pain. 

“It’s about…” You were so close to saying it before the words got stuck again. 

“About?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch while he gave you time to confess before he spoke again. “Dare I say, is this about your little crush?” 

It felt like lightning struck you, running right down your spine and pulling every muscle tight. How could he know? How long did he know? 

“What?” Your voice was small, weak, like your knees felt. 

“This is step four, is it not?” Alastor’s smile spread wider, teeth looking somehow sharper as he shifted in his seat, seeming to prepare for a show. 

“How do you?” 

“My darling girl,” Alastor laughed, “if you’re trying to keep a secret, I don’t recommend sleeping with the plan in front of you in this very library!” 

Tears welled in your eyes as shame and embarrassment flooded you. He was toying with you for the last few weeks, ruining your plans and making you fall harder just for his own sick entertainment because he knew the whole time. 

“You could have told me,” you whimpered, trying and failing to swallow back the tears. “You could have just told me instead of making a fool out of me.” 

Alastor’s smile faltered for just a moment, shrinking as he stood. He intended to play with you, ruin your plot, but it wasn’t his goal to hurt you. This was not how he wanted to see you crying in shame. This wasn’t how he wanted to see you crying at all. 

“Cher,” Alastor spoke softer, wiping the first tear to spill from your eyes with the knuckle of his clawed hand. “I did not desire to make a fool out of you.” 

“Then why?” You stepped back only to have him step closer to you. 

His ears sank as his head cocked to the side. Why was the question indeed? 

“I didn’t wish for you to crush this crush,” he answered honestly, though that only left you with more questions. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s entertaining,” he said, after thinking for a moment longer. “The way you blush and get flustered.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Alastor shrugged his shoulders before melting into the shadows, leaving you with more questions and worse, hope that they could become something real if you just gave Alastor time to come to figure out his feelings. 

You failed to crush your crush, but maybe that was alright? Maybe your crush was contagious. Maybe Charlie was right, after all.

No, not that Alastor would push you attempt to be a better person, but maybe you could both be terrible people together. 

Thank you for reading and once again, thank you to everyone within the fandom who stepped up and participated in the event!

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!!

[macabr3-barbi3]

Innocence (Alastor/Reader NSFW)

(Hell's Greatest International Women's Day Fic #2)

We're on to fic #2! I'll personally be donating $3 for every 15 notes that the fics with this banner are receiving 💗find fic #1 (RadioStatic breeding kink fic) here!

Get more information about the event by following us on Tumblr @hellsgreatestevents and Bluesky!

Tags: coming in pants; dry humping; non-sex repulsed Alastor; inexperienced Alastor

It had started innocently enough.

It was the first time that Alastor had allowed you into his bedroom- previously he had been too aware of the ‘impropriety’ of allowing a lady friend into his personal space, until you reminded him that this was Hell and nobody gave a shit about impropriety. Still, you had behaved yourself for the most part, sticking to your own chair while you read with him by the fire, one hand clasped with his on the table between you. You got up to go get something and on your way back to your seat you dropped your face down to meet Alastor’s and gave him what was meant to be a chaste kiss on the lips.

He had pulled you fully into his lap, straddling him with your arms against the back of the chair and hovering over him. He nosed at the length of your throat before devouring your mouth in a kiss that was decidedly not chaste, tongue snaking against yours in a way that had you groaning low, the sound reverberating in your chest. 

You hadn’t even really ground your hips against him, merely settled your weight fully in his lap instead of crouching above him and he had whined into your mouth, a choked off sound echoing in the space of his room as he had come in his trousers, the hot spurt of it soaking through the fabric until you could feel it where you pressed against him. 

Alastor hadn’t shoved you off him, but it was a near thing- his hands braced on your shoulders and pulled you back from his mouth, his expression a mix between mortification and anger, though it wasn’t directed at you. He had apologized, depositing you back into your own chair before dipping into the shadows and returning a few minutes later with different pants on and an apology dripping from his lips. He had missed, apparently, the look of blatant arousal and need on your face when you realized what had happened, the knowledge that he had come to orgasm so easily making you blush and clench your thighs together as he transported you to your own room with a hurried farewell. 

You were stripped in the bed as soon as he vanished, your own orgasm only disappointing when you realized that you hadn’t gotten to see the look on his face when it happened.

It became your personal mission, then, to try to make it happen again… and again… and again. He didn’t seem to realize that you were doing it on purpose, cornering him in abandoned hallways and closets and his sheets to kiss, pressing against him in ways that could almost be considered proper if not for the subtle roll of your hips when he pulled you closer. He always hid his face from you when he came, turned away in shame like he thought you would be disappointed. To his credit, he lasts longer every time- you think if the pair of you ever opt for penetrative sex he won’t disappoint either way- but you think it’s more the mental aspect of it than anything else. That he can’t stop himself, can’t or won’t or refuses to pull away from you even knowing how it will likely end when the two of you are so close together and locked at the lips.

Now, shoved into a tiny alcove off the kitchen, his body trembles where his lower half rests against you, the strain of his erection heavy through his pants, hot even with the layers of clothing between you as he presses you into the wall. “If I didn’t know better,” he mumbles as you press your lips to his neck, his collarbone, his chest through the gap in his shirt, anywhere you can reach, “I would think you enjoy my- ahem, my tendency to finish rather quickly when we wind up in this position.”

“Oh, you’ve finally caught on to that, have you?” You know he can feel the sharp-toothed grin pressed into his skin, nipping lightly with your teeth before pulling back and giving him a fond smile. You bring a hand up that’s been clenched in the fabric of his shirt to cup his jaw, in awe, as always, of the slack-jawed wonder in his panting mouth, the burning arousal evident in the droop of his eyelids as he stares down at you. “I find it endearing- and hot as fuck.”

“Language,” he reprimands softly, but his eyelids flutter and he moans low and staticky when you grind harder into him, one leg wrapped around the back of his own to pull him closer. 

“You love it,” you snap back, and squeak in surprise when he lifts you by the thighs and wraps your legs fully around his hips. You can tell he’s close from the frantic bucking of his hips into you, his harsh panting into the scant space between your faces, and you slide your fingers into his hair to tug him down for a breathtaking kiss. You whisper your plea against his lips- “Let me see you? Please?”

“As though- as though I could deny you anything, darling,” he manages to get out before his words fail him, feedback screeching in the dim lit space as he spills against you. His eyes clench shut, mouth falling open in ecstasy as he tips over the edge, claws digging into the skin of your hips as he rides it out. And this was what you had been working for the whole time- the complete abandonment of any shame as he found his release with your body, his face open and honest while he gasped and trembled through it.

He kept you held aloft as the shaking of his body subsided, running his hands comfortingly over the tiny marks he had left on your skin. “You’re quite the deviant, scheming like this for so long,” he whispers, leaning down to give you a kiss. “I hope you realize I will not be so inexperienced forever- I hope you’re prepared for more extensive sessions.”

“I’m counting on it,” you laugh, losing the sound into his mouth as he dips his hand between your thighs to help you find your own end.

[hazelfoureyes]

Fun fact, I had an abortion after an ex removed the condom without my permission while I was in college. I take this issue really personally. I had to travel to another state and use my school money to afford it.

In the waiting room was a 13 year old girl who said her grandparents had tried everything to make her miscarry but that didn’t work and now they were almost too late to terminate. They had traveled four states away from Texas and took money from their neighbors to afford the hotel and gas money.

I’m starting prep now. Leading up to the 8th, I’ll be accepting story requests. If you can donate and show me a screenshot and just mention HLDC in it so I know it’s for my requests, I’ll write 500-700 words of what you want (smut or otherwise. No CP, no SA, you know the drill.) for a donation of at least 5$.

I’ll be releasing any requests and new things the 8th as well tagging and linking the Lillith Fund.

If you can’t donate you can always share this and @fraugwinska ‘s posts regarding it to spread the word.

At the off chance you’re in a good spot financially, I’ll send you the finale of Loss Of Decorum that I never posted for a donation of $50+. Not publicly, just straight link you to my Google docs. I also have some omega verse reader stuff I’m willing to privately offer.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[hellsgreatestevents]

[cultofcreatures]

happy international women’s day~

i support women’s rights! (̵̳̥̳̑͒a̷̺̬̋n̶̦̠̣͂͛d̸̨͈̜͂̂ ̵̣̀w̶̦̌͘r̷͕̒̀ö̷͇́̂n̴��̩̓̎g̵̫̩̻̈́s̶̩̳̀̀)̶̼͖͊̈̕ 😁

velvette and verosika dressed as horror icons tiffany valentine and jennifer check, respectively

this is my entry for the @hellsgreatestevents women’s day fundraiser for the Lilith Fund! please visit their pages for more information on donations and participation. 😊 on this day (03/08/2025), i will donate $5 for every 100 notes this post gets. please consider joining me in our fight for reproductive rights!

[minkdelovely]

My lovely Mink,

How I adore you. You are the epitome of soft, lovely, kind yet powerful femininity to me. I can't tell you how much I adore you and your never ending kindness and love you show me, the wives and the world around you.

This donation is in your honor.

It comes with no strings attached - just a small way to show you on this day a small portion of the love I hold for you. If you wish though, I of course would love to see a small Radioapple drabble out of your hands - that's a drug I'm happily staying addicted to.

Kisses, my darling. ❤️

Frauchen, the sweetness of this message is truly overwhelming to me. Please know that I adore you and hope that I can give you back even just a fraction of the selfless kindness and support you give me and our friends.

You know I never need an excuse to write some RadioApple, but I hope you enjoy this fluffy little drabble 🥹♥️

Lucifer loved mornings.

Even in Hell, for just an hour or so, everything was serene. The sky was a hazy, diluted red, giving the mess they all lived in a softness that could only be admired this early in the day. There were no horrid screams, no chaos. A rare pocket of silence and peace before things went to absolute shit again.

But beyond the small window of appreciation he had for his realm, Lucifer’s absolute favorite sight was Alastor asleep in his bed. He knew that Alastor always struggled to fall asleep at a decent time, typically only getting a couple hours of rest before he woke up for another day of being a thorn in everyone’s side.

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile, doing his best to reconcile the snide and condescending expression Alastor wore with the heart rendering softness he was seeing now. He was just so…

“Lovely,” Lucifer murmured, gently carding his fingers through Alastor’s hair. His heart rising in his throat as he watched one of Alastor’s ears flick in response.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the demon’s temple, taking a moment to breathe in his warm and wild scent. The storm inside him calming in an instant, a side effect of Alastor’s presence he could have never had anticipated upon their first meeting.

Their journey had been an interesting one, and it was this brief hour of the morning where Lucifer could really soak it in. The world around him silent, save for his love’s even breathing. A perfect piece of serenity he didn’t think he’d ever have the privilege to experience again, but would cherish for all of his years.

[staticmothhell]

Closeted Confessions

Overlord Augustine is throwing a masquerade. Out of all the Vees, only Valentino is invited. To get all three of them a shot at grabbing some of the other Overlord's talent, Vox goes as Val's plus one... despite the theme of the evening being romance.

“That’s why you wanted to come with. Don’t deny it. You’re an obsessive, jealous, little bitch who—”

Vox grabbed Val’s hand. Val might have stopped speaking, but Vox could tell he was on thin ice. Still, he pressed a kiss to the back of it and looked up to Val at the same time. Val’s mouth shut.

“Tonight, baby, is about romance. Think about everything I’m going to do for you tonight and everything we’re going to milk out of Augustine. And then everything I’m going to do for you in thanks for what we get from Augustine.”

There was the slight blush on his face. Yep, Vox always had it. All he had to do was pick the right moment.

“You are a jealous, obsessive bitch.”

Vox noted the lack of little this time. “I sure am. Only for you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Written for Cicyi in thanks for their donation to the Lilith Fund!

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Hello all!!

Tomorrow is International Women’s Day!

And Me, along with other talented artists/writers are participating and or donating to:

Hells Greatest Event!

If you’d love to donate or participate once the clock strikes midnight on March 8th join the cause and raise awareness! 🥰

DRAW!

WRITE!

The lovely people responsible for this event even happening:

Join the discord!

Interact with other creators such as yourself!

[ritualofcirice]

Some other wonderful folk you can check out that are participating:

@fraugwinska, @macabr3-barbi3, and @minkdelovely!

Tag anyone you know who is joining in ♡

Here are some other artists who are participating in the extravaganza:

[fraugwinska]

♡ BOO ♡

I'm hopping into your ask box to see if you have anything you're working on now that you're enjoying, or if you have anything planned for the future that you're excited for!

Ah, what a wonderful occasion to share my current projects! Thank you for the inbox cici! <3 Well, while I'm still battling through creative differences with my brain, I do have a few projects I'm working on! And maybe external pressure will provide me the kick in the butt I need ;> So, here's

Frau Gwinska's current and very ambitious WIP-List

Method to Madness Chapter 24 Currently in planning stages, about 10% written

Chronicles of Hell (Working title) Supposed to be a one-shot that tturned out to be too good and much to be one. So currently planning 3 chapters + Prologue (Prologue is finished and will be part of my #hellsgreatestinternationalwomensday participation - look out for announcements!)

Through Heaven and Hell Secret project that is in the works since last year October, 'Mini'-Side fic starring (Human) Alastor x Reader spaanning two parts with 7 chapters each, Part 1 Chapters 1 and two are finished, Part 1 is completely planned out)

Beyond the Horizon Part 3 of the Tempest Mini-Series, currently in planning stage That's all that's concrete at this point, and writing it out makes me both scared and giddy! I hope I can find back to post and interact more again though! <3

[aneldritchfootnote]

XI The Justice of Lilith

In honour of International Women's Day 2025 and @hellsgreatestevents's initiative to raise money for the Lilith Fund

Please check out this post to see how you can contribute 🖤

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Requests are opened, limited but you get to the front of the line with proof of donation!

The catch? Unlike some of the amazing participants here, I can't promise I'll fill every request today but any that don't make it will be filled later this week. I've got homestead chores to do, drywall to hang and frankly, I'm not feeling too hot today- hence my late joining in!

I know not everyone can donate or can donate much so here is what I'm offering:

Under $5 -- I will walk my happy ass outside and take a picture of the chickens for you. Each donation gets another trip outside and another chicken picture. Why? Because idk, the chickens are cute. You can also request the cats or the dogs, idc.

$5+ -- A short request to be filled this week. We're talking under 1.5k words, more like a scene than a story. Your OC, My OC, MCU, Hiddleston, Hazbin- if you've ever seen me write for them, they're on the floor. Smut or no smut. You're at the front of the line.

$25-- You're willing to wait a bit longer but you're wanting a bit longer of a fic- Under 3k words.

$50+ -- combined donations specifically requesting just a bonus chapter for A Misdemeanor Of The Heart... gets everyone a bonus chapter. (claimed!)

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DONATE AND REQUEST, THE LINKS TO THE CHARITY ARE BELOW. None of the money goes to me, it all goes directly to the Lilith Fund. Let's raise some money ♡

How can I donate to the Lilith Fund?

Direct donations can be done through the Lilith Fund’s Homepage (credit card required) on https://www.lilithfund.org/donate

Donations can also be made through the Lilith Fund’s charity Paypal (Paypal account required).

US based supporters should use this link: https://www.paypal.com/fundraiser/charity/1747713

EU based members should use this link: https://www.paypal.com/US/fundraiser/charity/1747713

Please Note: Please use this exact link as the ‘normal’ US link won’t work for international donors! If you are a creator taking requests, please be sure to share this with your followers.

[macabr3-barbi3]

My wonderful Barbie,

My sister from another mister. How did I live life without your funny, witty, lovely presence in it? Our friendship is something I will treasure until I go to hell myself, and if I'm the first of us to go I'll get a dinky lil apartment and will wait for you to join me so we can rock eternal damnation together!

This donation is in your honor.

It's with no strings attached, just one of the ways I can try to show you how much I love you. If you wish though - You know that I would love to see you write a Vox or Alastor piece that makes the toes curl and the heart flutter.

❤️

first, please know that I have been sitting on this fic for literally MONTHS trying to get it done for a special occasion for you and never finding the fight inspiration to finish it. FINALLY I found the rest of the story and I am so happy to be sharing it in response to this beautiful ask, for a beautiful cause, from a beautiful friend ❤️

This is one of two fics that I am posting in your honor today to count notes for the final bits of the International Women's Day event and I hope everyone enjoys!

Another reminder (sorry I'm a broken record lol) that I'll personally be donating $3 for every 15 notes that the fics with this banner are receiving 💗find fic #1 (RadioStatic breeding kink fic) here and fic #2 (innocent Alastor x Reader) here! I'll stop counting around 12PM EST tomorrow so we can get our final tallys in.

Get more information about the event and future ones by following us on Tumblr @hellsgreatestevents and Bluesky!

Without any further ado, a casual not-quite-request from my darling from like July of 2024: promiscuous!reader x Alastor who thinks they have 0 attraction to him despite flirting/sleeping with literally ANYONE else

Tags: promiscuous fem reader; non sex-repulsed Alastor; possessive Alastor; fingering; handjob; 'It's just biology' logic lol

It shouldn’t bother him the way that it does.

Oh, it does.

Alastor watches you from the shadows of the hotel from the moment that you arrive- another deer, he supposes it’s mere instinct to keep an eye on you, some herd mentality that makes his eyes trail your form as you pass from one room to another, makes his ears twitch in tandem when yours flatten or stiffen in response to something. (He’s never reacted similarly to any other cervine Sinner in Hell, but it’s a comforting logic to cling to.) He sends his shadow to monitor you one time only when he catches a scent of distress coming from your bedroom, only for the blasted thing to tell him you were engaged in ‘personal matters’ that made his mind race and his normally dormant lower half twitch with interest. He throws up wards around your room to keep your scent and sounds contained, and assumes that will be the end of it.

It’s only the beginning- as soon as you acclimate to the Hotel, to Hell as a whole, the string of lovers begins. You would bring them to the hotel late in the day and send them off early the next morning; an assortment of men and women, sinners and succubi and Hellhounds, he’s even sure he may have seen an Overlord make an appearance, though no one of any real importance. Charlie and Vaggie finally catch wind of it, and politely ask that you stop bringing your parade of paramours to the doors of the Hotel; you agree to it, Alastor listening from the shadows around the corner, silently pleased that your brazen flaunting of your sexuality will be forced to come to an end.

Except… it doesn’t. You come home some nights smelling of cheap perfume and rancid cologne and what Alastor can only assume is bodily fluids before excusing yourself to your bedroom and emerging later smelling like yourself again- he can smell it on you, see the signs of your amorous hobbies, and no one else seems to notice or care, besides Angel Dust asking on occasion, “You look well taken care of, toots; who’s the lucky individual?”

Laughing when you respond, “who isn’t?” Like you were sharing your body with simply anyone.

It would be one thing if that was all he was subject to. But aside from your more promiscuous activities, you also rivaled the spider demon in terms of flirting and innuendo! At breakfast or lunch with the rest of the Hotel occupants, you would let suggestive comments fly across the table or lobby to everyone- winking at Angel as you swirled your tongue around an ice cream cone; dropping your voice to a lower register when leaning across the bar to ask Husk for a drink; ‘jokingly’ asking the Princess and Vaggie if they were looking for another participant when they mentioned going to bed one night. You weren’t as persistent or forward as the spider used to be- when Vaggie had growled in response to your question you had immediately backed off and apologized profusely- but you were very generous with your compliments and comments with everyone in the Hotel, even Niffty, going so far as to make a pass at Lucifer himself one night that he joined the group.

That, at least, had been entertaining- watching the King seem to choke on his own tongue as he flushed and tried to stammer out a response to your invitation to your bedroom, away from the ears of his daughter.

But your attention was never turned to him.

You never turned shy or demure like one would expect, but you made no pass at Alastor. No innuendos or offers like you made to the others, like you clearly made to the seemingly never ending stream of creatures and sinners that you warmed the sheets of. You chatted with him and laughed and spoke about music and literature but you never complimented him or invited him to your room as he had seen you do with countless others. And normally he wouldn’t care in the slightest- normally he would prefer it this way. When he thinks of the comments he got from the porn star that were always dismissed, the fumbled passes that Vox had made at him during their partnership that had never interested him in the slightest, the various offers and invitations that he had received over the years since arriving in Hell, he feels nothing.

You, though…

Perhaps it's the nature of his sinner form; the buck in him distraught at the idea that such a pretty, fertile doe didn’t think he was acceptable as a sexual partner when you would take on anyone else, and do so blatantly, right in front of him. But the thought of it keeps him up at night, his trousers tight and his antlers large and itchy, scratching at the bark of the trees in his bayou when he risks dropping his wards around your bedroom one night and smells that same scent from before, what he had thought was distress and could now recognize as being arousal. He refuses to lower himself as far as touching his straining erection, but the fact of you not wanting him eats him alive.

To his credit, he resists for a decent amount of time. Alastor lets the thoughts stew and thinks of you- what you’re doing with others, the ways they might be touching you, the sounds you might be making during it. He doesn’t allow himself to follow you when you step out in the evenings, keeps his shadow close to his side when you leave and come back smelling of sex.

A man can only have so much self control.

He’s down in the kitchen late in the evening when the light switches on, and your soft gasp of surprise graces his ears. When he looks over at you he wishes you had kept the lights off- you stand there in a mere slip of a nightgown, black and silky and clinging to the lines of your body like a second skin. Indecent. Alluring. Far, far too tempting, and he keeps his distance across the room, willing his antlers to stay as they are and not branch out to crowd the space at the close proximity to a potential mate.

He feels an eyebrow quirk up at that- mate was new, the word dangerous as it curls through his brain while he watches you, ears dropped low against your head and a blush tinting your face.

“Good evening, dear,” he says cordially, and resumes his earlier actions of making an evening cup of tea- like everything is normal, like the mere presence of you isn’t sending blood rushing through his body.

You seem to breathe a sigh of relief  before fully coming into the room, wrapping your arms around yourself, the motion pushing the mounds of your breasts up ever so slightly. He forces himself to look away, to stay busy as you approach and stand next to him. “Hi, Alastor. Think I could get one of those?” You gesture to the mug he holds in his hands.

“Why, of course! Allow me to-” 

When your arm drops back down he catches the scent on the air that you displace- Frustration. Arousal. There’s a second of silence before the glass he holds drops to the floor as he abandons all notion of tea in favor of reaching for you, tugging you closer so that you’re fitted against his body, tucked under his chin as he drops it down to sniff at your hair, one hand clasped around your bicep and the other coming around the back to hold you to him.

You make an alarmed squeak but don’t pull away, tilting your head up to try and look at him. The noise you make is inquisitive but not scared as he turns the pair of you, pins you between his chest and the counter and just breathes in the intoxicating cocktail of scent that you give off. He recognizes that he’s overstepping his boundaries- his mother would skin his hide if she was anywhere near Hell and knew he was behaving in such a manner- but he’s held out admirably long, and the need to know why, why, why was beating insistently at his thoughts. And after this, who knew if you would ever let him so close to you again? If you would even stay in the Hotel? The mere idea of you being anywhere else, away from his watchful eye and protection, makes his antlers ache.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs into your scalp, as eager to explain his actions away as he was to get answers from you even if he can’t bring himself to release you yet. “It’s a… biological impulse, I presume, because of our-”

“Because we’re deer?” You ask softly, the whisper of your breath tickling the skin of his chest where it pokes out of his shirt, and his erection aches where it suddenly strains against his trousers. He angles his hips back subtly, resists the urge to shove forward instead.

“Right. I’m afraid I- I was not thinking, and not myself.” He feels a flush take over his face, glad that you can’t see it where you’re held against him. “I believe if I can just- take in your scent for a moment, that should appease the instinct.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you hum into his shirt and stay put, so he assumes it’s a passable excuse.

You stand there quietly with him for a moment before the traitorous words bubble out of his throat against his will, the curiosity overriding his logic. “Why do you show no interest in me like you do the others?”

You stiffen in his hold- and even at this sign of alarm he can’t bring himself to release you. “I don’t- I’m not sure what you mean, Alastor,” you stammer, but he can smell it on you, the nerves, the anxiety in the phrase.

“It’s not my intention to scare you- nor corner you like this,” he adds, nodding down at his arms that cage you against the counter. “Merely a curiosity, and unfortunate coincidence. You offer your compliments freely, you make advances, you have an endless stream of lovers, and yet you have never directed such attention my way. Even Niffty has been at the receiving end of your flirting, albeit in a joking manner.” You’re silent in his arms, muscles tense and face turned away from him, and he keeps his hands where they are instead of doing something stupid like brushing his fingers against your cheek and turning you to face him. “Have I offended you in some manner? Do you simply not find me to be appealing?”

“No!” Your eyes are wide when you meet his again, a sweet blush to your face as you deny. “No, I mean, you’re fine, you haven’t done anything wrong- and you’re hot, so that’s not- fuck. Fuck. It’s really nothing, Alastor-”

And there it was again- that scent that you carried with you, pheromones that broadcasted to him as clearly as a radio that you were aroused, a tinge of embarrassment tinting it now instead of the frustration from earlier and it’s simply not enough. He drops his face to your shoulder, ignoring your soft squeak of alarm in favor of inhaling deeply at the curve of your neck where it’s the strongest that he can reach. It’s heady and thick, almost feeling like it’s coating his airways as it travels through his body, cock leaking inside his trousers now. “Doesn’t smell like nothing,” he murmurs absently, and your hands come up from where they’ve been gripping the counter to fist into his shirt. An explanation, he tells himself as he meets your eyes again, dilated and wide. That’s all I need. That will sate this feeling. That will return me to normal. That will-

He’s taken off guard by your dragging him down to meet your lips, more a clash of teeth than anything else before you get the angle right, surprising him with your tongue against his teeth as you try to lick into his mouth. His noise of surprise is muffled into the kiss, and it gives you the opportunity you need to get your tongue in his mouth, stroke with the slick muscle along his own. The action makes his hips jolt forward, erection finally pressed against the warmth of your body for a blissful moment before he remembers himself and angles away again.

He tries to, anyway. Your hands leave his shirt to tug at his belt loops, bringing his hips back into alignment with yours and causing a moan to vibrate from your mouth and into his as you clumsily try to grind into him.

Alastor releases you- only for a moment, only to reposition his hands so he can hold you even closer, shift you up onto the counter to press harder against you so he can finally satisfy the instinctive craving that had been plaguing him for months- and before he can do anything further you tear away with a gasp, letting go of his hips to push at his chest and try to put distance between the two of you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, and were it not for the note of panic that now taints your delicious scent he would tease you for the calling of a being so far removed from Hell when he manages to settle his hands on your body again. “Fuck, I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, Alastor, I wasn’t thinking,” and through your stammering your face is darkening, ears laid flat against your head.

One can only guess what sort of foolish things you’re telling yourself- that he didn’t want this, that you shouldn’t have kissed him, that this would surely result in some kind of disaster. What he was more focused on was the huff of your breath against his chest, the thrum of your heartbeat under his fingertips, the twitch of your ears. The heat of your body pressed against his as you had attempted to grind down, such an obvious display of your attraction to him that he knows he needs to cease your rampant overthinking before you do something terrible, like flee from him.

“My dear,” he says softly, and your eyes dart up, wide, trembling like your fingers against his chest. Much more like a frightened bird than the doe you were. “If you explain your hesitation, we can sort out any confusion that might linger between us, and get back to the more important matters at hand.” He brings a hand up from your hip to trace along the curve of your jaw, and the exhale that escapes you is hot against his wrist when he pulls you back against him. “Tell me your concerns.”

“You don’t actually want this,” you stutter out, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips, and it’s all he can do not to reclaim your mouth. “It’s- you’re only reacting like this because we’re both deer, you wouldn’t normally-”

“Do you think,” he interrupts with a roll of his hips into you, “that you are the first deer demon I’ve ever come across in all my years in Hell?”

Your eyes widen. “You- but you just said-”

“Yes, in an effort to spare myself the embarrassment of clinging to a young lady that I thought had no interest in me.” He places his hands on your waist and lifts you with little effort to rest on the edge of the counter so he can step fully between your legs. “It seems that may not be the case.”

You whimper, low and broken as his thumb brushes the skin of your thighs. “It’s not,” you confess. “I’ve… it wasn’t the whole time. I mean, I like sex with other people but lately its been- killing me, wanting you. I didn’t think you would want anything.”

“You thought wrong.” He slides his hands under your nightgown, the feeling of your bare skin under his hands igniting the heat within him anew. “I want everything from you.” He clasps you to his body and grinds, his erection dragging deliciously against the soaked warmth between your legs. “You were touching yourself just moments before you entered the kitchen, weren’t you? You couldn’t reach satisfaction; that’s why you smell of frustration, or arousal. Your scent has been driving me mad, these… lovers you’ve been with have been intolerable.”

He can feel the swollen nub of your clit through your panties, wet with slick from your time spent pleasuring yourself and unable to find release. He can almost feel the folds of you molding to his shape, parting with ease to invite him in if he so wished. 

He wouldn’t take you here. Alastor had craved you for too long to be satisfied with a fumbling romp in the kitchen in the dead of night- he was a gentleman, and would take you to bed and whisper the words of praise that you were so deserving of as he entered you for the first time. He would ensure that the evening was beautiful and worthy of how long you both had waited, unknowing of how easy it all could have been.

For now, though, you were both vibrating with the tension of months of pent up frustration, and he wouldn’t make you wait any longer, his own release be damned. He would show you that none of the others you had bedded were any sort of viable substitution for him.

He asks, “may I?” As he teases his fingers along the waist of your panties, and your breathy agreement is music to his ears as he simply vanishes them away and slips his fingers into your core. You’re wet for him, the smell of your arousal overwhelming now that you’re bare before him, open for his touch, and while he has little experience in this area he’s able to read the tremble of your body in his arms well enough, the whimpers and gasps that you let out into his ears. He searches, fingers gentle in their exploration as he aches in his slacks, grinding against the counter with what little leverage he has and watching your face for any sign of discomfort. He finds the answer to his questioning touch in a pliable spot of flesh that he crooks his fingers against, and your body trembles in his arms. He hardly needs your frantic whisper of “yes, there, please,” but the feedback is encouraging anyway as he presses hard, withdrawing and adding another finger at the encouraging thrust of your hips.

He wishes he could taste you, knows that you would be just as sweet on his tongue as you felt clenched around his digits. You’re both too wound for that now, as he would want to take his time in savoring you, and so he settles for letting you come undone around his fingers. He finds a promising angle by pushing up on the tips of his hooves, and that gives him the angle he needs to rut into your thigh, hot as the rest of your body and deliciously firm against his cock. Your cunt weeps with arousal, and he swipes his thumb through it for an effortless glide against your clit as he rocks his fingers in a steady rhythm.

“Please,” you whisper, and there’s a hand shoved against his belt buckle, clawing at the clasp in the little space that exists between your bodies. “I want to touch you- please, can I?” Your eyes are wet with pleasure, every inch of your visible skin flushed and your request sweet as honey in the air as you wait for his approval. He nods, and his head drops to your shoulder with a defeated groan at the first touch of your hands to his bare erection.

Your grip is firm, hot- experienced, he thinks with a distant throb of jealousy knowing how many others you had been with to have gained such knowledge. How many others had held you against a counter or wall like this with some part of their body inside of you, your delicate hand touching them in return? What was the exact number of Sinners he would have to hunt down that became familiar with the flavor of your moans before he had been given the chance to sample you?

“Fuck, Alastor,” you cry out, and he grins sharp and dangerous into the crook of your neck at the realization that none of your previous lovers mattered now- all that existed to you in this moment was him, his fingers buried in the tight clench of your body, his cock leaking in your hand, his name on your soft lips. You were pliant and warm and perfect, and he would ensure that you never needed anyone else to satisfy you for the rest of your afterlife.

His orgasm catches him nearly by surprise, hips jerking as he spills hard and messy over your fingers. His voice catches on a desperate moan of your name, and somehow this- staticky and rough and broken- is what takes you over the edge as well, your inner walls fluttering hard around his fingers and even more slick gushing from you to coat him in the evidence of your satisfaction.

You take a moment to simply breathe, bringing a hand up to rest on his shoulder before you start laughing.

Alastor is almost offended, but when he pulls back from your shoulder your smile is fond and pleased. “To think we could have been doing this all along,” you tease, and run your thumb through the mess of his orgasm and lightly against his tip before withdrawing from his pants. You roll your hips against his fingers as he pulls them from you, and the small action is enough to have his spent cock twitching once again.

“Not all along,” he says, bringing his fingers up to inspect, delighting in your renewed blush when he pops one into his mouth for a taste and is rewarded with it being every bit as delicious as he had hoped. “I’m sure with your expertise we would have graduated to more adventurous endeavors by now.”

“My expertise?” You feign offense, your tone exaggerated and your smile genuine as you look up at him. “Why, Alastor, are you implying I’m some sort of tart?”

His eyes are dark as he growls, “not anymore, you aren’t,” and scoops you into his arms to retreat to his bedroom with the ghost of your laughter echoing in the kitchen when you’re gone.

[hellsgreatestevents]

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