#demons and debauchery

[questfriendspodcast]

Happy St. Patrick's day! To celebrate, we teamed up with Dungeons & Drimbus to tell a story about demons, debauchery, and drinking.

[t00thpasteface]

a patron requested their oc getting crushed by an anvil

i've previously drawn him being hit by a car

[woonderfullie]

Quasi-Kuro related ramblings about the demons under the cut

(most of it is in the tags)

Demons as catalysts for change and upheaval, or at least ardent advocates for it, using their presence to tip the scales

Could demons be summoned with less for less, through sacrifices that don't involve bloodshed but still have the power to drastically alter the course of one's life?

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[lenoraslament]

Can you do one whee it's a threesome with mattheo, Tom and y/n and it is bdsm for the first time and they go ruff

Careful What You Wish For

Reader x threesome with Mattheo Riddle and Tom Riddle

Warnings: smut, 18+ Minors DNI!, bdsm, rough, oral (m receiving), fingering, dp, spanking, degradation, piv, anal, creampie.

Idk what demon possessed me when I wrote this but it’s pretty dirty so…beware? lol. Also I’m a little drunk. Also I’m sorry I forgot to do word count but it is long

“I want you both or not at all,” you said. Mattheo’s brows knitted together, his face was a wince. He had been infatuated with you for so long . Pined for you, maybe not your personality but certainly your body. Your mouth, your breasts. He couldn’t remember a day where he didn’t see you walking down the hall and try to imagine what was under the skirt that was always flirting with your thighs.

So he tried, and tried to get you to hook up with him. He approached you in the great hall, after quidditch games, in the library. Sure, you’d flirt back but always left him wanting. He wasn’t used to not getting his way and your resistance left him even more feral for a night with you.

Just another Saturday night of debauchery in the Slytherin common room. You were just drunk enough to give him a knowing grin when Mattheo sauntered his way over to you.

“God, you don’t know how badly I want you,” Mattheo muttered. His eyes slipping from your lips to your body. But his gaze wasn’t exactly what you were after. Thats not to say you weren’t attracted to Mattheo, I mean you had eyes. It was his big brother who made his way into your fantasies.

Tom riddle, godly handsome, aloof, cold. The only boy who wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged. You watched him in the library, in his own world. What you wouldn’t give for a taste of what swam under his still waters.

So when Mattheo made his millionth pass at you, you were drunk enough to ask for the impossible

“I want you both or not at all”.

“Both?” Mattheo nearly choked on his drink, “my…Tom….at the same” he was about to say no. Hell no. But then you leaned forward and pressed your body against his. Your lips brushed up his neck to his ear.

“At the same time. However you want me,” your breathy voice tickled his ear, “however rough you like it”.

Hook. Line. And sinker.

Mattheo didn’t need anymore convincing. His rational thought was blinded by the throbbing need in his pants. He nearly growled, his hand on your waist as he sighed and finally said, “okay..,”.

With that he wasted no time to go to Tom. Tom was perched on a chair near the end of the party, he was sipping whiskey. Playing chess with Blaise. Tom appraised the anxious look on Mattheo’s face, the way he stood next to their game chewing on his lip trying to figure out how to approach it.

“What?” Tom asked curtly. When his usual obnoxiously confident brother began to stammer; Tom rolled his eyes.

Legilimens

That’s all it took. Tom’s dive into Mattheo’s mind, was intrusive. Months of Mattheo’s obsession. Tom knew who you were of course, he noticed you staring at him. He found you attractive enough but knowing his brothers obsession with you amused him. Both? You wanted both? Tom smirked at this. He would have never given you the credit to be such a little slut.

Tom dropped the spell as Mattheo winced and cursed.

“Ow fuck asshole,” Mattheo said rubbing the pinprick he felt in his temple. Tom was chuckling and finished his whiskey with a swig.

“Y/N huh?” Tom asked coolly as if he didn’t just see the whole thing played out inside of Mattheo’s mind. He nodded for a moment.

“Fine. Two conditions. I want her sober and you both listen to what I say,” Tom said not even looking up at him as he checked Blaise knocking another piece off the board.

Mattheo felt sheepish, he knew what he was asking for. He knew how Tom loved to torture him generally and how much knowing the girl he wanted, wanted his brother would play to Tom’s ego.

“Fine” he grumbled. Tom only nodded as Blaise groaned when Tom finished the game

“Tomorrow night. Go tell her”.

————————————————

You couldn’t believe Mattheo went for it. Or more surprisingly that Tom agreed. In the harsh light of morning, you felt nervous; nearly ashamed. When Mattheo had found you later that night at the party and told you the terms you were excited. Now there was a hot coal in your stomach.

Tom wanted you sober. Obedient.

It made you swallow and flush. All day you turned over the idea in your head like a stone. It was eight PM, when Mattheo knocked on your door.

“Ready?” He asked, he looked as nervous as you felt. Suddenly it got real and you nearly backed down. It felt like a dream as he led you down the hall to Tom’s private prefect room.

You had showered ahead of time and did you hair and makeup. You wore a sundress. When Tom answered the door he smirked appraising you. It was not lost on you that this may have been the first time you had his full attention.

He didn’t say hi, “you don’t look so brave now” he immediately mocked making your cheeks burn red. Mattheo walked in the room looking fidgety and sat on the bed.

“I…I’m fine…I’m ready” you muttered trying to muster a smile. Tom only kept smirking, his hand slowly cupped your jaw as he studied your face.

“What’s your safe word?” He asked, his eyes burning into yours. Eyebrow quirked with interest, you nearly trembled.

“I don’t need one” your attempt to be flirty.

Tom laughed as this, “nice try but believe me you will.” He squeezed your jaw a little.

“Don’t make me ask again,” his voice was still light and full of levity.

“Um…episky?” You nervously asked instead of stated. Tom nodded and walked over to Mattheo standing over him. His face dropped back into the usual stoic demeanor.

“You good?” Tom asked him, Mattheo looked over at you. How perfect and sexy you looked.

“Yea…good..”Mattheo said his nervousness was still there but he kept his eyes on the prize.

Tom patted him on the shoulder and made his way back to you. Like a switch was flicked his voice dropped, he was nearly sneering at you,

“So you’re the girl who’s got my little brother all keyed up?” Tom asked in a smooth voice. You opened your mouth to answer but nothing would come out. Five seconds later Tom’s hand landed on your cheek.

You gasped, the sting took you by surprise and if you had to be honest no one had ever hit you in your life. The startled whine only made Tom grin.

“I asked you a question.” He said in a warning tone. Once again you were stunned into silence as another heavy hand met the other side of your face in a firm slap.

“Ah, not so mouthy now. Apparently you only know how to use your words when asking for cock” Tom chuckled as he held your jaw now roughly.

Your eyes were tearing up, your mouth open slightly parted in surprise.

“Such a greedy little slut, Mattheo wasn’t enough to satisfy your needs?” He asked making Mattheo grimace in his seat as he watched the exchange. Tom’s hand slid down to pull you in by your throat. His lips moved to your ear so he could whisper out of earshot.

“Think you can handle me doll? You’re not even worthy to suck my dick. So why don’t you prove me you can be a good slut and maybe I’ll consider touching you” he hissed in your ear.

If you were flustered before, you were shocked now. You could barely speak as you struggled to keep from crying. His words hurt, his firm was grip and worst of all he was making you absolutely fucking soaked.

“What did I say about answering me?” He muttered as he pulled you back harshly to look at your face.

“Yes…yes sir,” you managed to squeak out. Tom nodded and shoved you away making you stumble.

“Get on your knees…crawl” Tom said gesturing over to wear Mattheo is sitting. Like a puppet on strings you dropped down to the floor. Mattheo’s nerves were morphed into lust as he watched you crawl over to him slowly. When you reached him, you sat up on the floor. He was sitting on the chair at Tom’s desk, your hands on his knees.

Suddenly you understood that Tom was in charge, you turned back to him. Tom nodded in approval noticing your submission.

“Suck his cock” Tom said. Mattheo sighed softly feeling your fingers working at this pants. He helped you until they were pooled at his feet. His cock was impossibly hard, dripping already.

Mattheo’s hand was gently stroking your red cheek as you licked the tip. Slowly you enveloped the head, letting him fill your mouth. He moaned loudly, eyes fluttering back as you bobbed you head halfway down. Tom stood watching with mild interest.

Tom made his way over, hand threaded in your hair softly at first. Then it balled into a fist and you could feel his tug guiding your movements.

“Surely you can do better than that Y/N” Tom said as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s cock. You gagged loudly, the thickness filling your mouth and hitting your throat. Mattheo moaned louder as you deepthroated him.

Tom was unrelenting as tears ran down your face, mixing with your saliva. Mattheo began to reach for Tom’s wrist to take it easy on you but Tom gave him a warning look. It didn’t take much else for him to began to move his hips to match your movements, he could help it. Your warm mouth felt so good. As his moans increased, you gagged harder; Tom noticed Mattheo begin to get too close and pulled you off by hair.

You felt your back hit the floor. Mattheo was breathless, gasping in the chair. You looked up to see Tom standing over you, same smirk. It was humiliating, your lips were swollen, back of your head sore from hair pulling and cheeks red. You had the urge to say your safe word until Tom stooped down and held your cheek.

“Good girl,” he said and kissed you roughly. The kiss made you feel light headed, aroused. He bit your lip softly and flicked his tongue against yours. Then he stood leaving you wanting on the floor. Mattheo was undressing.

“Come stand in front of the bed,” Tom said. You got to your feet still in a daze and fully clothed.

“Undress her,” Tom said to Mattheo. Mattheo took no time at all. As soon as he reached you, his hands found purchase on your waist. His kiss was hungrier than Tom’s, needier. You let yourself get lost in it as he slid your dress down to the floor. Hands searching, stroking. He cupped your breasts softly before unlatching your bra. His lips went for your neck but Tom cut in.

“I said undress her. Stop touching her she hasn’t earned it,” he said. Mattheo groaned but backed off. His eyes hungry on you as he knelt and pulled down your panties.

“Move.” Tom said as Mattheo sat on the bed frustrated. Tom didn’t wasn’t any time to cup your pussy. Two fingers sliding into your folds so quickly it made you moan loudly.

“Mm dripping wet and we’ve barely even touched you,” he said as he slid them inside of you. They crooked and found that spongy area making your eyes instantly roll back.

“Pathetic,” he said and pulled them out. You whined and looked up at him, “please” you muttered. Tom only chuckled and shook his head at you.

“How many times has my brother asked you out in the past month?” Tom asked. The question struck you as funny but the look on his face was clearly not joking.

“Um….i don’t know…” you began but the movement of Tom’s hand made you quickly change your tune, “eight….eight times..sir”.

Tom nodded and undid his tie. He placed it around your wrists binding them together. He spun you around and making you face Mattheo were he still sat on the bed. Tom positioned you like a doll. Your tied hands looped around Mattheo’s neck and resting on his shoulders. Slightly bent over as you and Mattheo made eye contact. He leaned over and brushed your lips reassuringly with his, earning a soft smile from you

“Count.” Tom said before you felt his hand land on your ass hard. You cried out, the sting leaving you breathless. Your eyes met Mattheo’s, the pain made your head spin. When his eyes met yours, you felt lust overtake you. His lips found yours in a sloppy kiss.

“One.”

Tom’s hand caressed your ass before another rang out making you whine.

“Two.”

Mattheo’s breath shuddered. His face nuzzled against yours as you winced from another slap.

“Three”.

Tom groaned softly, your obedience making him show his first signarousal of the evening. His hand slid between your legs. Two fingers sliding inside you making you whimper softly. Tom’s voice was low and soft, it barely registered but the words still made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Such a good girl” he said as he delivered another firm spank.

“Four!” Your voice was louder and higher. Full of desperation.

Tom’s eyes rose from your reddened bottom to meet Mattheo’s heavy lidded glare that had been locked on your face.

“You can touch her now,” Tom said to him. Mattheo’s hands moved immediately to your breasts to softly cup and flick your nipples. You gasped and whined. His mouth greedily licking and sucking your neck.

“I still want to hear her count,” Tom commanded as he delivered another blow.

“Fi-five,” you found Mattheo’s mouth to kiss him back tongues fighting for dominance. His hand slid down your stomach to softly stroke your clit. The touch was lost from the vibration of another hit making your hips jump forward.

You pulled away from Mattheo’s mouth quickly, “Six”.

As you braced for another slap, Mattheo’s fingers thrummed over your clit again. The sensitive bundle of nerves feeling puffy and swollen from need. Another hit barely registered as the pleasure overtook your body.

“Seven” you whispered. Tom suddenly jerked your head back by your hair, “don’t get greedy”. He said sternly.

The last spank was so hard you groaned, but you made sure he could hear you. Mattheo’s fingers were moving over your nub slick with arousal.

“EIGHT,” you cried. Tom’s fingers slid into your cunt from behind. He immediately found the spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. Relentlessly he punched his digits into it. Mattheo’s fingers worked in union, making you nearly drool onto his lap. Your hips were keening against the movement, your moans were loud and rhythmic.

Tom pulled your head back roughly, “don’t even think about coming without asking”.

“Can I come sir please?”

“Don’t ask me, ask Mattheo” Tom said as his free hand wrapped around your neck.

“Matty, can I come? Please oh fuck can I come?” You were so close your legs were shaking.

Mattheo kept working his fingers over your clit, Tom’s slender fingers deep inside of you as he choked you roughly. Mattheo kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding over yours as your eyes rolled back.

“Come for me pretty girl.” Mattheo said. You let out a nearly guttural noise, your moans rhythmic and heavy. You could feel your cunt squeezing Tom’s fingers making him hum in approval.

“There we go, good slut. Come for us” Tom growled as his fingers didn’t show any sign of slowing. Mattheo’s fingers stilled so he wouldn’t overstimulate you.

“So pretty, so good for me, let go beautiful” Mattheo said as his lips brushed over your whiney cries. Of course, Tom wasn’t easy on you, his fingers relentless moving even faster making the coil in your snap even harder. You squirted onto his fingers as you let out a breathy scream.

“Look how you’re soaking me, what a needy girl, so sensitive” Tom mocked you as Mattheo only caressed your face watching your slack jawed expression with a mix of adoration and amusement.

Tom’s fingers left you, if it wasn’t for your still bound wrists around Mattheo’s neck you would have crumbled to the floor. Mattheo helped steady you, he kissed your neck softly and pulled you close.

“Doing okay?” He whispered in your ear with a smile. You were still gasping trying to come down from your high but you managed a soft yes.

Tom’s hand wrapped around the tie pulling you by your bound wrists off of Mattheo and onto the bed.

“I think you finally earned the right to be used”, Tom said condescendingly as he unbuttoned his shirt.

You watched as Tom began to slowly undress beside the bed. Mattheo was feral, no longer concerned about Tom’s directions or commands. He was on you in bed, pulling your thighs to wrap around his waist. Hitching you into position, his hand moved to pull your face away from watching Tom.

“Ready?” Mattheo asked softly, your face was smeary with bliss as you nodded. You felt the binds on your wrist being attached to the bed post as Mattheo thrusted in bottoming you out immediately. You mewled and arched your back, his hungry movements in time with his loud moans.

“Ah fuck you feel so good princess, look at you taking my cock so well,” he praised you as he thrusted slowly but deeply. Your breasts jiggled and his fingers dug into your waist.

Tom finished securing your binds, his hand finding you jaw pulling it away from Mattheo’s mouth.

“Open,” he said in a husky voice. You eagerly made room for him to stuff his cock into your throat. He was slightly bigger than Mattheo and immediately your eyes water. Tom thrusted into your mouth, at an untethered pace. Your gags and whines mixed as he clung onto your hair guiding the movements.

Mattheo kept rocking his hips into yours, eager to finish after being interrupted earlier. Tom’s head was thrown back, he looked lost in the moment for once. The pleasure abundant, but still Tom managed to choke out, “Not yet,” to Mattheo. Who groaned and cursed reluctantly pulling out of you leaving you on the precipice of a ruined orgasm.

Both of them pulled away from your body twitching with need, you gasped in the air that was now available to you.

“Knees,” Tom said his own panting breath cutting into his usual stern tone. It was hard to do with tied wrists but you managed to get on your knees in the bed. Tom slid himself under you until you were straddling him.

He wasted no time to fill you, pushing your hips down. Mattheo watched with a burn of jealousy as you bounced on Tom’s cock eagerly. Tom kept one hand on your throat as he let out a string of words.

“That’s right, ride my cock like the slut you are. So fucking needy for it, stupid whore.” He muttered as he cursed, his hips snapping to meet yours. You felt the heady lightness fill you as he cut off your airway. You could hear Tom say something to Mattheo but it was garbled to you.

Had you been in a more present state of mind you would have heard Tom say to Mattheo.

“What are you waiting for? She has two holes,” Tom said vulgarly. Mattheo climbed onto the bed, lining up. This time he didn’t completely listen to Tom, he reached over to move his wrist away from your throat so you could pay attention to his question.

“Is this okay?” Mattheo asked you in your ear as he hovered at your tight pink hole. You nodded eagerly, still needing release. Never in a million years would you have thought you wanted something like this but all of your inhibitions flew out the window long ago.

Mattheo spit on his hand lubricating himself before sliding in slowly. The feeling of being filled by both of them overwhelmed you. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your body stretch. Your mouth dropped open and you let out a high pitch whine.

Tom groaned feeling you get tighter, Mattheo was whimpering into your shoulder as he thrusted into your tight ass. Both of them muttering praise to you as they moved inside of you.

“Fucking good girl”

“Taking us so well”.

“So pretty when we use you like this”.

You could barely register who said what as they both rocked into you. The tightness in your hips and cunt spasmed and your entire body stiffened as you came. Hard. They both moaned in approval as they felt your contractions squeezing both of them.

“Let go, let go come on”

“There you go, fuck, so sexy when you come”

“Take it, take it beautiful”.

Then you felt heat. Both of them filling you as a chorus of pants and moans filled the room. You collapsed onto the bed breathless. Mattheo’s strong arms pulling you close. You shuddered and held onto him tight while he whispered praises and sweet nothings. Tom took a moment to compose himself before sitting up and getting dressed leaving you and Mattheo the privacy to do aftercare.

When you finally reached the ground, Mattheo grinned at you.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly stroking a hair from your face.

“Wrecked but amazing” you giggle and bury your face in his chest.

“Be careful what you wish for” he said grinning.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Demon! Konig X Nun! Reader

The reader was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange noise outside the church, encountered a stranger in the rain, because of her kindness and innocence she gave the stranger shelter from the rain overnight and was raped.

There is a devil at your door, and he is absolutely fascinated. One of the easiest way to infiltrate a temple - to get someone dumb enough to accept a stranger into the house of god, someone naive or greedy enough to try and shake him for all the kindness they gave out. You were dumb - naive, really. Even if he wasn't a demon, he is still a huge man standing outside of a church in the night's rain. You're just a lonely nun, left to take care of the further part of the temple while the rest of the church resided in other, more important buildings. You're still just one woman in the night, far enough from people who could hear your screams. Konig couldn't even wait for his usual seduction - he tried to, of course, always like to sway a soul in a natural way. Show a bit more skin, get you a glimpse of pleasure that sin can provide. You're far too innocent for this - you listen to his stories of wild parties and debauchery while pouring him a warm drink and bring him a change of clothes, something, so he won't have to stay in his soaked cloak and a mask. You listen to him carefully, surprise evident in your eyes - and you promise him that you will pray for his adventures once it's all over. A usual young nun, especially as pretty as you, could be swayed with warm words and some wild promises - but you kindly refused. You let him graze the softness of your lisp with his hands and still remained undefeated. Konig is...intrigued. Fascinated. Which is why he decided, that your soul is too pure for his usual seduction. Oh no, you deserve to be the finest treat on his plate - you deserve to unravel on his tongue and be devoured like the final meal of a prisoner on death row. You deserve to be pushed into the abandoned, old altar - you tries to clean it before, but it was useless - and your nun garments lifted. You cried and whimpered, trying to push him away, but he only squeezed your throat in that delicious way that made you dizzy. You could have sworn you saw him growing horns and claws - but it might be just the lack of air in your pretty throat. You whimper as he tears your innocence with his lust - as he fills you up, now not a bride of god, but a woman, unraveling under him. He smirks into the bite marks of your neck and laughs as you're trying to pray that all of this would be a dream. He leaves the cross hanging on your tits, and it strikes him with a little wave of heat every time he bounces your lush body off his cock just right. He likes the feeling, that tiny tingle - like that useless god of yours can actually do something. Oh no, kleine engel, you are going to hell with him - and he will make sure to respect at least one of the heavenly wows as he makes you his wife.

[devildomwriter]

Fun Facts 661-670

• Lucifer warped space so that Asmodeus could have a window in his room even though it’s not facing the outside of the home.

• When asked who they thought a troublesome demon was, Raphael chose Mammon and Mephistopheles chose Lucifer

• Thirteen recruited the Butterflies to help guide souls peacefully to rest

• Belphegor requests MC’s help playing a game against Levi and Mammon because Beel always gets too hungry and abandons the game at crucial moments

• Mammon thinks debauchery makes cup ramen more delicious

• Simeon believes when it comes to his feelings for MC whether he is a demon or angel does not matter even with the stricter rules he’s supposed to follow.

• Beelzebub was kicked out once when he ate a hole on his bedroom wall, ruining it.

• Despite wanting Mammon to do better, when his brothers find him being oddly studious they’re so weirded out they try to stop it immediately

• Simeon says when Lucifer is genuinely happy it’s usually because his brothers are happy or he’s taking care of Cerberus.

• According to Lucifer if Leviathan shuts himself in his room for more than a week then he’s probably worrying about something

651-660 • 671-680

[whatswrongwithblue]

In The Night, In The Dark

Edited screenshot and beta'ing done by my dearlest love, @inuhalfdemon

Summary: Alastor x afab Reader x Shadow smut. Easily read as a stand-alone, there's no other context needed to enjoy this instalment, but it is technically Part 5 of my "Girl Talk" series. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 4 are all dirty humor and Part 3 is also easily stand-alone smut of the "filthiest" kind.

TW's: Slight dub-con at the very beginning, voyeurism, masturbation, vaginal fingering, anal, biting, threesome, double penetration, squirting, creampie. 8,271 words of romance and debauchery lay before the "Read More." MDNI and plan on a shower afterwards.

Before the Hazbin Hotel . . .

Before you met Angel Dust . . .

Before the seven loneliest years of your life . . .

You had found yourself in the beginnings of a wonderful and complicated romance with The Radio Demon.

You had known him for a while, prior to becoming intimate, and had seen Alastor in a variety of moods.

He could be charming, enthusiastic, charismatic, downright funny, and the life of the party. He could sing and dance the night away, sweep you off your feet, all while being outright goofy. This was the side of him that, over a considerable amount of time, you had fallen in love with.

He could be terrifying; a monster (quite literally), a murderous psychopath, a sadistic and twisted killer who made strangers flee from him and far unluckier souls kneel to him. The kind of man who took what he wanted, regardless - or sometimes because - of who it hurt. This was the side of him that had initially caught your eye and ignited the flame of your darkest fantasies. Heaven help you, there a was a reason you were down there in Hell with men like him. While it had taken you a long while to realize he was the man of your dreams, it had taken you even longer to get his attention.

But now that you had it . . .

You were realizing there was a secret, third side to his personality; one you had only seen glimpses of so far. A distant and cold version of Alastor, where he couldn’t stand to be touched, forwent his chivalry, and yet, in a very twisted sense of the idea, let his guard down. These dark moods settled on him whenever something or someone got under his skin and he had no real outlet for his frustrations. No form of violence or vengeance would settle him, and he couldn’t exactly lash out at you because of it. He felt the new and unnerving need for you in these moments but was also desperate for distance.

It seemed tonight he had finally figured out a solution to this problem.

____

You had just fallen into the first stages of sleep, where the drowsy fog still kept your faculties from you, but you were also halfway aware of what was happening to you.

Pleasantly cool fingers ghosted across your skin, tickling your hips bones and dipping lower to your thighs, lifting you from your dreams. Still half asleep, you automatically assumed it was Alastor, and in your hazy stupor, didn’t question it. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck into your apartment, your room, your bed in the middle of the night. You even encouraged it. So, there wasn’t an ounce of doubt or concern in your mind as you kept your eyes shut and shifted more onto your back, parting your legs just enough to let the familiar long and tender fingers begin stroking over your panties.

Your breath came in quicker, louder pants as he worked you up. Long, slow, torturous touches that burned you up on the inside and left you wet and swollen on the outside.

By the time you fully awoke, you had already soaked through your panties – simple little cotton things that didn’t even match the t-shirt you had put on before bed. It’s not like you had been expecting company, and Alastor – well he didn’t find sexual appeal in anything you wore anyway.

Still with your eyes closed, you turned your head and reached an arm out to the other side of the bed, wanting to reciprocate the delicious foreplay he was pampering you with.

“Hmmm . . . Al’,” you breathed his name, still reaching for his body but when you finally heard his voice, it didn’t come from where you expected it to.

“I’m here.”

But he wasn’t.

Here was right next to you in bed but his voice was coming from there. From somewhere past the foot of the bed and much too far away to be connected to the hand that had just slid itself under the elastic band of your underwear and was finally giving your pussy the direct contact it had been begging for.

You opened your eyes and true to what the flutter in your heart had told you, Alastor was not what was lying next to you in bed.

It was just darkness.

A deep black mass of a thing that vaguely resembled your lover. The only part of it that had any detail was the forearm and hand that was still doing rather pleasant things to your body, though your mind was ringing with alarm bells.

“It’s alright, my dear,” Alastor’s voice assured you and your head whipped around to face him, your ears triangulating easily on the direction of his voice now that you were awake and alert. “It’s me . . . well,” he chuckled without humor, “mostly me.”

It dawned on you then just exactly what was happening. In the simplest of terms, Alastor was having his shadow finger-fuck you in bed . . . while he watched. The realization left you feeling shy and unsure of yourself in a way you hadn’t felt in very long time.

You looked Alastor in the eyes, trying to gage if this was really what he wanted, but only found a quiet, deep rage in those beautiful ruby orbs of his. It unsettled you but it also really turned you on.

“I want this,” he said, his words assuring you, though his tone was commanding. “But if it’s too much for you . . .”

He trailed off and looked away and as he did so, the shadow pulled away from you. The brevity of its departure made it more obvious that you had indeed been enjoying its touch and your walls clenched longingly at the thought of its return.

‘I’m okay with it,” you replied quickly. Maybe too quickly, if Alastor’s raised eyebrow was any indication. “I mean . . .” You hesitated, being more careful in your word choice. Even if your answer disappointed Alastor, you would only upset him more if he ever found out you weren’t explicitly honest with him. “I’d like to keep trying. If you’re really okay with it, that is.”

“I wouldn’t even let it look at you if I wasn’t, let alone fuck you like I intend it to,” he replied with a deadly low tone.

You swallowed.

“And if I say stop?”

“Then we’ll stop. Of course.” He nodded, his eyes softening for just a fraction of a second, letting slip that sliver of decency he still kept close to his heart when it came to you.

“Okay,” you agreed. Alastor stood and walked over to you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, letting his eyes roam over you sprawled out on top of your sheets, the damp spot visible on your underwear, even in the darkness of the room. “Now, let’s have a better view of you going forward, shall we?”

He pulled your panties slowly down your legs, letting the pads of his fingers dance across your flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake that his claws gently raked against.

It was the last direct touch he gave you until after his shadow had shown you what it could really do.

Alastor walked back to his chair that was leaned against the opposite wall of your bed. A chair that you didn’t own or had ever seen before. Which meant he had materialized it just for this.

Your eyes about bugged out of your head as he undid his buckle and his trousers and pulled his already hard and throbbing erection free before taking his seat. He sat like a King on his throne, legs wide apart, shoulders straight and confident, and one hand gripping the armrest while the other took hold of the base of his cock. Meanwhile his eyes stayed locked on you.

As if a silent command had been issued, the swirling mass of shadows next to you began to thicken, reaching for you once more. This time you were ready for it and kept your legs wide and raised your hips up as the ghostly dark hand found your heated center. It explored you thoroughly, running multiple fingers over and between your folds, toying with your clit and the sensitive line of eager flesh that led from it to the very center of your weeping cunt. You got the distinct impression it was like an eager student, who had been watching and observing its master, and was now ready for its own hands-on learning.

The shadow shifted, moving closer to you and you tensed a little as you expected it to crawl over you, but then it . . . disappeared?

No.

It went beneath you.

You watched, fascinated, as it slipped itself between your body and the sheets and then you felt it, lifting you away from the mattress by barely an inch. It felt almost like a thin layer of water between you and the bed, not so solid that it didn’t give into the natural swells of your body but definitely solid enough to feel.

There was the slightest tickling at your neck that then began to intensify, and you blinked in wonder as the darkness morphed into a face next to yours. One that looked very much like Alastor’s, but far less detailed. Those eyes though, although green rather than red, were very much the eyes you knew so well and adored.

Even in the haze of arousal that the hand working your pussy was clouding your judgement with, you came to understand the relationship between Alastor and his shadow in an intimate way that no other act but this could bring you.

While it had a mind of its own, a body of its own, Alastor and it were inexplicably connected to each other. Your real lover, the man watching you from the chair a few feet away, could see through those green eyes and could feel what those hands felt. It was Alastor’s mouth and his shadow’s mouth that bit down on tender flesh where your neck met your shoulders, teasing the skin there until it was marked and bruised, but never breaking skin.

This was how Alastor could find comfort in you without pushing the limits of his own touch-adverse body when he fell victim to his darkest moods.

You let a moan slip from your lips as the shadow’s fingers found a perfect rhythm of strokes from clit to center and felt every bit of reservation ease from your body as you gave in to this strange and unique form of sex.

Another hand materialized on your other side, snaking its way up beneath your t-shirt, tickling your ribs and cupping the bottom swell of your breast. You moaned again, arching your back, and felt it pinching your nipple. It squeezed and rolled it, stimulating it until it was peaked and taught.

You felt your pleasure building, increasing at a rapid pace you didn’t know you had in you, brought on by the delicious exoticness of the silky coolness of the shadow’s flesh against yours. Desperate for more contact, you turned your face into it, nuzzling the side of the head next to yours and felt something similar to hair but it floated softly through the air as if underwater.

Then you remembered Alastor and your eyes shot to him but rather than meeting his gaze, you locked onto the throbbing member in his grasp and the way he was slowly pumping himself as he watched you. His tip was red and swollen, almost as tense and angry as his dark expression, and even in the dim light of the room, you could see the bit of precum glistening at the top, ready to spill over and run down his shaft.

And still his hand was slow and methodical on himself, just a causal rise and fall along his entire length, purposefully drawing out his own pleasure.

Just as the wave of your first orgasm began to crest, the shadow slipped its fingers inside you, at last giving you some sensation of being filled as it curled what felt like two long and slender digits up and into the spongey sweet spot. You cried out and threw your head back as it rubbed its palm against your clit and pumped into your depths. The wet squelching noise it pulled from your body was drowned out as you voiced your ecstasy. You came with shaking legs and an arched back and you had never felt closer to the man who was ironically across the room.

As you came down from your orgasm, a kind of blissed out clarity overwhelmed you. Now you felt truly free to love and adore and desire every aspect of Alastor, even his darkest most detached part of his soul. He would feel it, he would understand it, and he wanted it.

The shadow didn’t stop its task as your orgasm came to a close, but it did slow its pace with an expert understanding of how your body worked. Letting up on the pressure of its palm against your clit, it ever so gently worked your inner walls, keeping you from the overwhelming sensation of overstimulation – at least for now – and letting your pleasure rebuild upon itself, riding the cascading wave of your last orgasm to quickly reach a new and second high.

At first you merely panted. Open-mouthed and head thrown back into the strange and thin shoulder supporting you from beneath, you were dazed into feeling nothing but the tantalizing fingers working their magic on you. But then it quickened its pace, knowing just the moment when your body was ready for more and you whimpered, a pathetic wanton little sound, that almost sounded like a response to pain.

The pressure of the shadowy palm returned to your clit and surprisingly sharp claws dug into your breast. You stared at Alastor, eyes roaming between his face and his lap. He was not meeting your eyes, not when his own was so clearly locked onto what was happening between your legs, truly enthralled by the scene of his shadow’s hand fucking your pussy, the view from his vantage point perfect for such voyeurism. His cock was positively weeping at this point and your mouth watered at the sight of the single stream of salty liquid that spilled from his tip and without breaking rhythm, he coated his entire length with a thin layer of it. You wanted to take him in your mouth, feel the weight of him on your tongue, let the musky taste of him overwhelm your senses and mix your saliva with his own fluids to increase his own pleasure. But he didn’t move a muscle towards you, and you were fixed to the bed, helpless to pull away from the shadow that had you in its grip from beneath.

You came again, lost in the thought of pleasuring Alastor in return for what he was doing to you now. This orgasm was longer and more intense than the first and your cries filled the room but this time you kept Alastor within your view and didn’t miss his smile widen in approval as he watched your hips rocking with reckless abandon into his shadow.

Feeling spent, you let your body melt into the dark and fluid body beneath yours, thinking it might be over now.

But then you heard the distinct tsk that often came from Alastor whenever he teasingly disapproved of something you had said or done and your eyes shot back open when you realized, he still hadn’t come.

You weren’t sure you had much more in you and trusted Alastor when he had said all you had to say was “stop” and he would, but your twisted curiosity wanted to see where he would take this if you allowed it. So, you said nothing as you met his gaze, seeing his cock in your peripherals still being worked by that hand as steady as a metronome.

“That was just some foreplay, my dear,” Alastor said and then tilted his head at you, as if considering something. “Tell me you haven’t grown curious as to what its cock would feel like inside of you.”

Your cunt ached at his words, unearthing a level of desire in you that you didn’t know existed up until then.

“Well, I certainly am now,” you say, feeling more and more like your usual confident self with every passing second.

You felt the shadow beneath you thicken, lifting your hips just a fraction higher, and you bent your knees slightly, pressing the bottoms of your feet into the mattress, catching on quickly to the position his shadow was putting you in.

“That’s it,” Alastor said, a mix of pride and authority in his voice as he appraised you. “Good girl, just like that.”

You felt the tip of something wider than the fingers at your entrance, teasing and undulating the shallowest parts of your walls and you bore down, helping to guide it in until it was fully sheathed within you, the angle of penetration not allowing for anything deeper.

With black arms and hands wrapped around your torso, the shadow that was an odd mix of two and three dimensions began thrusting up into you, and you leaned your weight of your back into it, embracing its hold on you as it fucked you from beneath.

It must have been quite the show for Alastor; your legs spread wide, your pussy on full display, as its dark and pulsing shaft came up from underneath you and penetrated your most intimate of places, all the while its hands roamed beneath your t-shirt, groping and teasing at your belly, your ribs, your breast, and your hard and aching nipples.

For a while, it was mostly silent in the room. Just the sounds of your soft moans and heavy breath were enough to dominate the air, though in-between the gentle, lusty notes of your voice, more carnal sounds were heard. The squeaking of the bed frame, the wet, slippery sound of the infernal, inhuman cock pounding into your core, and the very subtle, hardly there at all sound of Alastor’s fist working his own member and the occasional hard intake of breath from him.

He was finally getting close, though he was clearly desperately holding out for more time.

Eager to see his release, that moment when he would lose control, you began meeting the shadow’s rhythm with a more active enthusiasm than you had been showing.

You took one of the hands from beneath your shirt and guided it slowly back down between your legs, and it did as directed, meeting your clit with eager and quick circles that had you immediately moaning and crying out. You were going to come again and soon and you craned your head forward to get a good look at Alastor.

“Oh fuck, this feels so good,” you said, your words affected by the shakiness of your breath and the ever-present steady rocking of the shadow beneath you. “Can you feel it?”

“Yes.”

His answer was simple, direct, and still you could hear how close he was in that one quick word.

“Mmmm,” you moaned, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment. “I’m so close.”

You heard him breath harshly through his nose, your affect on him undeniable. You didn’t often dirty talk like this with him but if it was a show he wanted, a show he would get.

Biting your lip, you grasped at the wrist resting on your pelvic mound, directing Alastor’s view back towards your sex. Then you looked down at yourself, at the shadowy hand that blurred around the edges but circled your swollen clit with a perfect, rapid motion and the darkness beneath it that was glistening with your slickness as it pumped in and out of you.

You twitched and clenched at the sight of it all, edging ever closer to your next orgasm, and wondered at how Alastor had lasted as long as he had.

“I’m gonna come,” you said desperately, looking back at Alastor with your neediest expression. “But I need – I need . . .”

“You need what, darling?” he asked, impatiently. You noticed his speed quicken as he pumped his cock though you were sure it was an unconscious decision on his part. Suddenly you felt like you were the one in control of the situation and let the next words flow from your lips, certain of the affect they would have on him.

“You,” you breathed. “Come for me, Alastor. I want to see it.”

The motion of the cock inside of you matched that of Alastor’s hand on his own member as the two quickened the pace in perfect sync with each other. His eyes narrowed, possibly feeling conflicted at his own loss of control but succumbing to his own desire nonetheless.

“Yes,” you sighed, giving into the sensations as well, as you moved your hips back and forth to meet the shadow that was filling you up.

You felt your body tense, felt the swelling and constricting of all your lower muscles and organs, and you thought for a second you had lost, that you were going to come once again without Alastor, but then you heard the deep, masculine grunt from your lover and looked in time to see his cock twitching in his hand, the first milky rope of his cum spurting out over his tightened fist and your orgasm hit your body like a ton of bricks.

It was a lucky thing you were in Hell because whatever noises tore from your throat were not meant to be made in Heaven. A rush of blood went to your core, your pussy clenching impossible tight on the wide shaft that still had your legs spread wide, urging even more wetness from you that coated your inner thighs and ran down your ass to pool in the sheets below you. All the while you couldn’t peel your eyes away from the wonderous sight of Alastor coming undone in front of you, spilling his seed for you and making a creamy mess all over his hand, torso, and trousers.

In the silence afterwards, it was all you could do to lay flat on your back as you felt the shadow finally retreating from your body, and you blinked up at the ceiling above, positively lost in the thoughtless post-orgasmic bliss you were experiencing.

As if from a great distance, you heard the shuffling of clothes and knew Alastor had stood and had begun undressing himself, but he didn’t approach you.

“Finish undressing her,” you heard him say, “and have your way with her.”

Excuse the fuck out of me, you thought.

He was talking to his shadow as if you weren’t even there, as if you weren’t an active participant in this, and that just wouldn’t do. Alastor may have been The Radio Demon, Hell’s most powerful and prominent Overlord, but he hadn’t fallen for you because you were the type of soul to just . . .  take things lying down, so to speak.

If he still wanted you and his shadow to go at it another round, it would be on your terms.

Those shadowy limbs reached for you again but you sat up, meeting its green eyes with a steel gaze, hard enough to halt its approach.

It solidified completely for the first time that evening, collecting its darkness into the same size and shape as Alastor’s body, and you weren’t sure if it was in acceptance of what it was reading in your expression, or as a challenge. Either way, you were ready.

You braced your hands on its shoulders and swung one leg over its hips, feeling the press of its hardness between your bodies, pinned against its stomach and your mound. Reaching between yourselves, you took the erection that was uniquely as dark as night but also as hard and velvety as the other one you knew so well, and lifted yourself up on your knees enough to line its tip up with your entrance. With a boldness that was encouraged by the sheer offense you had taken at Alastor’s words, you bore your gaze into those wide green eyes as you slowly sank yourself down, feeling every inch of it as you took in its length and bottomed out. There was a pressure, deep in your gut, as its swollen tip pressed against the very end of your deep and tight walls, and you let yourself groan as you knew Alastor would be able to feel just how completely his shadow was filling you up now that you had shifted positions.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw him standing frozen in place, his hands paused on the buttons of his shirt, and though he looked surprised, you could see him processing this change in you. There was something new in his expression, a kind of anticipation, as if he couldn’t wait to see where this new plot twist would lead him. He hadn’t expected this of you, but he wasn’t about to step in and interfere.

Before you had turned back around, you felt the shadow’s hands with those unnaturally long and slender fingers grasping at your hips and reaching around to squeeze the swell of your ass and pull you closer. Still looking at Alastor, you did as the shadow encouraged and rocked your hips; just once but in an exaggerated, slow and hard way that was clearly just a prologue to the rough and hard way you were about to ride his shadow. You could see Alastor’s jaw tense in response and smiled.

Oh, he could definitely still feel everything his shadow did.

You turned back to the shadow and leaned away from the torso that was pressed against you just enough to be able to cross your arms in front of yourself, grip the edges of your t-shirt, and slowly raise it up, giving it a good long and torturous show of exposing your mid-drift. The hem of your shirt caught on the bottom swell of your tits, pulling them up with the fabric before you lifted your arms more, letting them bounce free, your nipples reaching into hard little rosy peaks as they were exposed for the first time to the cooler air of the room. Then your shirt was up over your head and tossed to the floor, utterly forgotten as your arms came back down and wrapped around the shadow’s neck.

You could finish undressing yourself, thank you very much.

You rocked your hips again and then a second time, as slowly and teasingly as before.

“Alastor likes me on top more than he’d ever admit,” you said to the shadow, taking your turn to talk to it as if Alastor wasn’t in the room. “Likes the way I ride his cock hard and fast. Is that the way you want me to fuck you?”

Alastor said your name from behind you, almost warning you, but you ignored him, instinctually knowing he still wasn’t going to interfere.

The shadow remained silent, unable to speak, but you felt it twitch inside your cunt.

You began in earnest, bouncing yourself up and down its shaft, holding tightly to its neck and shoulders.

“Like this?” you asked again and the shadow pulled your face closer to it until your foreheads touched, its glowing eyes looking at you with such open need and adoration that words weren’t necessary. “Hmmm, yeah, just like this,” you agreed. “You feel so good. Just like him. But right now . . . ” you trailed off, digging your own demonic claws into its neck and feeling not quite flesh but something of its essence did give way beneath your talons. Still riding it, never once losing your pace, you kept eye contact as you continued, “. . . right now your cock is the one I need.” 

The shadow pulled you roughly to it then, holding your body tightly against its own, just enough to let you continue rolling your hips, letting you lift yourself up just a few inches off its length before gliding back down, continuing the devilishly rapid pace that you had set, pumping yourself up and down its cock over and over and over again.

You lost yourself then, thinking only of the shadow inside of you, beneath you, wrapped around you. It felt like it was everywhere at once, teasing and nipping at your skin, touching and stroking your body inside and out. The full-bodied man behind you was almost forgotten, but not completely. In the back of your mind, you stayed aware of his presence, his eyes on you as you took command of your own pleasure and used his shadow for yourself. And you never forgot who this shadow was a manifestation of and who was really feeling the way your body was pressed against it.

Indeed, the very thought of this new and exciting being that you had accepted into your bed still being a part of Alastor just fueled your passion. Made you cling to it a little tighter, clench your aching and dripping pussy down harder, and roll your hips a little more sensually.

You had started with a brutal pace, as if to prove a point that you weren’t to just be ordered around and used, but the longer you went, the more minutes passed by, the more the mood shifted.

The way the shadow was looking at you, as if you were giving it a gift it could never have conceived of, as if it truly appreciated the way you had embraced it, reached deep into your heart.

This was supposed to just be a senseless fucking. A reprieve for Alastor, to strip away and be done with whatever had put him in such a sour mood. And you knew that it had simply been expected of you to go along with it. You were already a much more physical person than he was and had already proved to him that you could take anything he could throw at you when it came to intercourse.

It had been one thing to let his shadow fuck you and for him to watch. It was even better that you had enjoyed it; he and his shadow had both wanted that. To watch you and feel you come for it, multiple times.

But then to want more of it, to not only accept but embrace this darkest, most malevolent part of his essence, his very soul, turned this night into something else entirely.

You were beyond just “okay” with all of this; you desired every bit of this shadow entity, would let it do anything it wanted to you, all because of how deeply and desperately you loved Alastor.

And there was something even kinkier to that, somehow. That two fucked up people, who had maimed and murdered and devoured others, had ended up together and brought each other’s walls down, saw the absolute worst and most vile sides of each other .  . . and liked what they found. You adored this darkness, reached for it, wanted it all around you and inside of you, to let it fill you up until there was nothing left but you and the man you loved.

The change didn’t happen all at once but rather over the course of several minutes but eventually you found yourself not fucking this shadow with wild and raunchy abandon, but properly and passionately making love to it.

There was a sweetness to the way you rolled your hips now, a tenderness in the way your hands roamed over its body, an acceptance in how your chest pressed against its own until it could feel the steady beat of your undead heart reverberating against it. It left you impossibly wetter than before and you leaned into this new sensual expression of your desire, daring now to even press gentle kisses along its neck.

Then there were fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your face towards it, and in with the most foreign of sensations, you realized it was kissing you. Dry but liquid lips crashed against your own, the ghost of a tongue lapped and danced its way into your mouth, but those teeth were very familiar. Their sharp sting a reminder of who this really was as it bit and sucked on your lower lip, just the way Alastor liked to do.

All at once you came, before you had any kind of warning. You cried out and panted, open-mouthed and slack jawed against the shadows lips as your body tensed, the lovely roll of your hips turning into rapid, unsteady jerks you had little control over. Alastor’s shadow held you close as you rode it out, continuing to grind against it as wave after wave hit you deep in your core, and it kissed and sucked on your neck and shoulders as your orgasm went on and on. Its kisses were strange, soothing and soft, but didn’t leave the same kind of cool, wet spots on your skin afterwards like you were used to. Its mouth had been the silkiest, smoothest texture your tongue had ever tasted but not heated and moist like Alastor’s. The mix of differences and similarities prolonged your pleasure into the longest, most stimulating orgasm you had ever experienced.

When it finally ended, you smiled against the shadow’s mouth, and its permanent grin widened in response. You nuzzled your nose against it, and it cradled the back of your head, taking the moment to enjoy this newfound intimacy. Its body was steady against yours even as you still fought to catch your breath and you laughed softly at the irony of having such a sweet and loving moment with one of Hell’s most deadly entities.

Hands gripped your shoulders from behind and pulled you away.

“My turn,” Alastor said as he forced you onto your back and crawled on top of you.

There was a second where you felt surprised and disoriented, but you recaptured your senses quickly and spread your legs to accommodate him, bringing your arms up and around his shoulders as his lips crashed hungrily against yours.

It didn’t take you but a few seconds to realize this was Alastor, completely stripped bare, both literally and figuratively. Free of all clothes and reservations, this was the lover you knew best, and he was finally ready to have close, direct contact with you.

He lingered at your mouth for a moment, demanding entrance, his tongue hot and rough against yours as he reclaimed your body for himself. Then he shifted, biting as often as he kissed, as he left a trail of marks along your jawline, throat, collar bone, and breasts.

“Touch me,” he asked, his tone guttural and full of static, almost pleading with you, before he took one of your nipples in his mouth, letting its peak slide between his teeth and then coming back down for another painful suck.

You started by running your fingers through his hair, letting your fingertips massage the tension you could feel in his scalp, before you turned your attention to his ears. You rubbed them first at the base and ran a hand up each of their sides, feeling the thick leathery skin beneath the short and dense fur. You circled the pad of your thumb against each tip, earning yourself a moan from your lover who was still intently sucking at your breasts, and then moved your hands to the base of his antlers. Pressing your fingers down, you stroked the flesh of his scalp where the antlers protruded from, having learned months ago that they became unbearably itchy whenever Alastor was irritated.

“Oh, my love,” you whispered to him. “I’m here. It’s okay now. I love you.”

He shuddered at your words, his breath coming out in hot pants that tickled your chest and gave you goosebumps, despite the heat.

“I love you,” he replied, lifting his head and moving his body back up until you lined up perfectly.

Without needing any other words to continue, he found what he was looking for in your expression and guided himself into you. You relaxed your tired muscles as his cock filled you up, welcoming the embrace of his true self and the more familiar, solid body you were used to.

You both sighed as he bottomed out and a second later, when he began to move within you, your lips met once more.

You returned his passion, letting your hands wander up and down the expanse of his back, feeling his lean and slender muscles waver between taught and relaxed at your attention. Letting your reach extend lower, you cupped his ass, pulling him tighter to you, encouraging deeper, more meaningful thrusts out of him. Then you found his upright tail, with an erect ridge of fur along its bottom length that you caressed and ran your fingers through, holding back a giggle as you felt it wag from side to side within your grip.

How you loved his tail; the most expressive, innocent part of his anatomy. It was no wonder he hid it from the world. It was positively adorable and always gave his true feelings away, but you were happy to keep its existence to yourself. It was your little secret you kept just between the two of you; a part of him he saved for your enjoyment alone.

At this point, you were getting a little sore, but you persevered, enjoying the sweet pain of being taken so many times. You were still plenty wet, more than enough to have to lean on the aid of lubricant, and the longer Alastor continued his slow and steady pace, the more you became ready for more. It was like his cock was dragging the last reserves of your desire out from within, inch by inch, stoking your pleasure from a smoldering ember into a refreshed, raging fire.

And you knew what you would need to push you over that final edge.

He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, completely absorbed in the feeling of you beneath him, but when you whispered his name, he lifted himself up enough to look into your eyes.

“I want both of you,” you said with a husky, strained voice. “All of you.”

He slowed his pace but didn’t stop completely as he grinned at you in understanding.

“So greedy,” he teased.

“Only because I want you so much.”

“And what a monster I have created,” he agreed.

The sensation of the shadow beneath you returned, where it had been when this whole thing had begun. From between your back and the sheets, you felt yourself rising up, but unlike before, there was much more than just a single layer of blackness beneath you, with only hands and a face reaching up from the sides. This time it was as real and completely solid as when you had been riding it from on top, and you felt yourself pressed between two very corporeal, masculine bodies.

The shadow wasted no time in reacquainting its hands with your body and reached between you and Alastor to begin rubbing and circling your clit, while the other arm caressed every inch of your body it could reach.

Something pressed itself between your lower cheeks and you felt the silky touch of it against your ass. Not quite a finger; it didn’t feel exactly like how Alastor occasionally touched you there, but it wasn’t wide enough to be the shadow’s cock either. A tendril, toying and caressing your tight and sensitive hole, playing with the flesh there just how you liked. The slender tentacle wormed its way into your entrance, swirling and stretching you just the slightest, giving you a shallow, pulsing feeling down there that added to your pleasure in a new and tingling way.

The shadow’s face appeared at the side of your head, and as Alastor dipped his mouth to your pulse point, yours met the shadow’s. Your fingers scratched into Alastor’s scalp and your tongue sought out his shadow’s. Wet and hot flesh danced against silky coolness. A warm body above and inside you and a misty, dark embrace took you from behind and below, and you had never felt so complete.

The tendril of shadow playing at your ass began to spread and widened and your eyes flew open as you felt the familiar, rounded tip of a cock nestled just within your entrance. It began to slide in further, easily and smoothly, as if already lubed up, but you tensed up between your two lovers.

“I don’t think- ” you gasped, knowing Alastor would feel what was happening without you having to explain. “I don’t think I can take it all.”

Alastor let go of his biting task at your neck and met your worried gaze, and you noticed he had a trace of your blood glistening on his lower lip as he smiled warmly at you. Each cock had stilled within you, one fully buried to its hilt in your pussy, and the other just a few inches inside.

“I think you can, sweetheart,” Alastor said, and his eyes darted over to his shadows for a second, before returning to yours. You felt the shadows lips on the other side of your neck, as if to sooth your worries with its touch, and Alastor continued to speak. “We can stop whenever you say the words,” his voice dropped a little lower, and his eyes shined brighter for a moment, “but you’re the one who asked for more.”

The darkness in his gaze did as he intended, and you felt your cunt gushing with desire and you willed the muscles around your ass to relax as well. You felt the slick affects of Alastor’s words dripping out of you, coating the base of his cock, and slipping down further to soak the hole the shadow was now continuing to push into.

Alastor pulled away first, then slid his length back in with an easy grace, and as his tip reached its end inside you, the shadow from beneath pulled away. Back and forth they went, in perfect, unnaturally well-done synchronicity, pumping and stroking and filling you up beyond what you thought your body capable of accepting.

And those fingers between you and Alastor, never stopping, working your clit with circles that seemed to complete a single rotation with every thrust of cock inside of you.

Now it was Alastor that was kissing you, as his shadow licked a trail from shoulder to jawline, cradling a breast in one hand, its thumb rubbing and pressing against a nipple in time with the action of the other hand against your throbbing bundle of nerves at the peak of your sex.

It was so much, all at once, and you could hardly move, pinned as you were between the two bodies. You were completely at their mercy as they fucked you together, two halves of one entity, working in tandem to draw out every sigh and moan of pleasure from your lips.

The deep intense pressure of it, of being penetrated so completely, of having two utterly gorgeous bodies worshipping yours and taking turns to move within you, was sheer, Hellish bliss. It ached and burned and stung and stretched you out and it was fucking amazing.

There was a rising tide within you, like a looming tsunami on the horizon, much more intense than even the last orgasm. It felt like you were pulling away from yourself, being dragged deep within, where nothing else existed but the two sets of lips on your flesh, the four hands caressing your body, the two cocks diving into you harder and harder with every passing second. Every desperate gasp of air you took in the only motion you seemed capable of making until those last few seconds.

One of your hands gripped at the shadow arm around your waist, nails digging in desperately, as you arched yourself forward and bit onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the massive wave of pleasure rocked your body like a freight train and something released inside of you.

You felt the rush of fluid from inside and out as your orgasm exploded out of you. The heat of it trickled down your thighs, soaking all three of your bodies where they were joined. Now the sound of Alastor’s thrusts, him and his shadows, took on an even wetter, more lewd noise and before you had processed what had happened, before the shaking of your body subsided, and at the very tail end of your own orgasm, Alastor found his own release.

His seed filled you up, hitting your cervix and coating every inch of your inner walls, as if to replace the essence of yourself you had just squirted all over him with his own. To mark you from deep within, just as he had done to your flesh when he first climbed on top of you.

And then the greatest surprise of the evening came when you watched as his shadow slithered out from beneath you and into Alastor; melting into him like two pictures being molded into one.

It shouldn’t have shocked you as you had seen this happen with your own eyes on countless of occasions but still, in the heat of the moment – or, well, technically the heat of the last hour or so – had made you forget that Alastor and his shadow spent more time as one than they did apart.

Alastor had literally split himself in two in order to experience what you two had just done and the realization of it made a fit of laughter burst out of you.

You covered your mouth in shock, your eyes widening as you looked up at him, but as he titled his head, those large deer ears of his flopping a little to the side at his confusion, you laughed even harder.

He was still inside of you, already softening, but his eyes were growing harder as they stared down at you in growing irritation. But you couldn’t help yourself, the absurdity and debauchery of the whole evening left you not knowing what else to do with yourself but laugh.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you gasped through your laughter and he rolled his eyes and grunted as he pulled out of you and laid on his side, still watching you.

You had just about composed yourself when you took in the sight of him, perched up on one elbow, an eyebrow raised at you, his dick soft and flopping on full display for you, and you snorted with laughter again, burying your face in the bed beneath you.

“I had anticipated many reactions from you, but this was not one of them,” he deadpanned.

You choked back more laughter, sighing as you rolled onto your back for a moment, catching your breath. With one last little chuckle, you turned your head back towards him.

“Blame it on the endorphins.”

“Endor- what?” he asked, more confused and irritated than ever.

“Endorphins. They’re produced when you have sex. And you just ripped five fucking orgasms from me and made me squirt – which I’ve never done before. You fucked me silly, Al’. Deal with the consequences.” And you giggled some more, drunk and giddy on the rush of hormones and love you were feeling at the moment.

His whole body softened then and he reached forward and took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I suppose after the day I’ve had, your laughter is the best medicine I could have asked for.”

You snuggled closer to him, pressing your body into his, and curled up into his longer form.

“Stay with me tonight? Please?”

He kissed your forehead.

“But of course,” he said softly.

You heard the soft snap of his fingers and with a poof felt the bedding beneath you change into freshly clean and soft sheets that weren’t soiled by sex, sweat, and a variety of other bodily fluids. The sticky mess between your legs also disappeared . . . almost. You felt a thick wetness still deep within you and suspected Alastor had purposefully left just a bit of his cum in you, a little secret to keep you marked as his.  

A few minutes went by and as you dozed back to sleep, you noticed the change in rhythm of his breathing, and the slackness in his expression, and knew he had fallen asleep before you had.

You sat up halfway, studying his sleeping form, noting that his ever-present smile had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time you had slept in the same bed as him but you always fell asleep first and he always woke before you. This was the first time you had been treated to the site of Alastor’s sleeping form and you took a minute to marvel at how beautiful he was like this.

Then you leaned forward and pressed your lips between his eyes, where that mysterious “x” often showed itself when his more demonic forms came forward.

“I love you. Both of you,” you whispered and then settled into his arms, drifting off into dreams of shadow and darkness.

Part 6

Thank you to all who asked to be added to the tag-list for this series!

@readergirlstuff @thereallsaturnstar @somefancybb @moonstarrs11 @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @rhiannaleek @selenezq @speedycoffeedelight @saturn-alone @whoknowswhoiamtoday @quill-to-book @sirens-and-moonflowers

[zhongrin]

© zhongrin | 2024 ✼  [✘] no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. [✓] rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

cw. minors dni, cult!au(?), gn!pronouns (priest/ess), gn-bodied!reader, religious/cult-ish behavior, yandere

i have no words except i'm ovulating so this is perfectly justified ok? ok. ty

imagining being zhongli's little devoted priest/ess. he's so endeared by this little, loyal pup, he decides to give you prophecies and 'blessings' regularly so you and your little village can flourish...

problem is, whenever he delivers those prophecies, he always descends and rails you hard, whispering the words of wisdom into your ears only as you cum all over his cocks, delirious and most definitely not in the state of mind to listen. oh, but don't worry, he'll gladly repeat it for you... on your next climax, that is. after all, you have yet to manage to take both of him into your warm tightness. and he would never pass on the opportunity to bless his favorite follower, as many times as you could take before you fall limp in his hold with only his name leaving your lips, his insignia over your heart glowing with power and further cementing his influence over this mortal world.

everyone praises your devotion as you stay within the praying chamber for days on end. they joyfully cheer and prostrate with their heads onto the ground - the dominion of your go̶d - whenever you come out, because without fail, suddenly the harvest is bountiful and rain ends the long-lasting drought. they're ignorant to the sinful debauchery of your g̸̟̖̓̽od's rumbling groans as you faithfully take him into your mouth as he sits on his throne made of gilded amber, drool and cum running down your chin, teary eyes looking up at him, a lamb pleading for salvation and guidance.

and so the misleading shepherd guides you awry without you knowing; for as long as humans attain what they wish for, why would it matter if it was granted by a god or a demon?

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

[midnight-bay-if]

"If silence claims the waters of Midnight Bay, death has come to stay."

"Every day, I miss him, and every day, I’m scared that I’ll miss him less. That one day, I’ll wake up, and I won’t remember how his hair would stick up in odd angles in the morning or how black he liked his coffee. That the bedtime stories he would read me before bed no longer guide my morals nor parse their wisdom in his voice..."

If you ask me why I still seek revenge, this is what I'll say: I will not forget.

Because nothing could be more terrifying than the idea of time passing without my father's death having any justice or resolution, and years down the line, I’ll be sitting in this diner with you, but we won’t be talking about my dad at all anymore."

Come on. Let's kill the killer.

Demo: Out Now (45,000) words.

Simon/Simone [f/m] Task Force Leader. Human Simon/Simone comes from a wealthy family with a long history of government service and civil partnerships. Simon/Simone is somewhat of a black sheep and is estranged from a large portion of their family. After a bout of teenage rebellion, Simon/Simone find themselves enlisted in the military to ‘correct’ their behaviour. However, with a penchant for leadership and a tactician's mind, they are recruited by a strange, secretive organisation with questionable goals.

After two more victims of 'The Bay Slasher' are found discarded on the bay, Simon/Simone drives themselves and their team into town, on orders from their mysterious higher-ups, ready to put away this killer for good. But cases such as these are never simple, and even more so with a far too clever and far too perceptive P.I. hot on their heels.

Rain [non-binary] The Mediator. Supernatural type; Pixie Rain grew up in a very wet biome of the world associated with fairies, pixies and elementals. After a great conflict, Rain was practically herded into the arms of a greater power, who guided them into the arms of Simon/Simone, who became their new leader.

When Simon/Simone tells them that one day, they will be going to the practically derelict town of Albach Bay to catch a dangerous killer, they shrug, smile, and pack their bags without a second thought. It doesn't take long for them to realise this isn't a typical case, even by their standards.

Taj [f/m] The Infiltrator. Supernatural type: Qita Taj is part of an ever-shrinking community hidden well in the Egyptian underbellies. Qita are a humanoid cat race native to Egypt and were once revered by humans at the dawn of their civilisation. However, that reverence began to fizzle out when a greater power, deciding their people had become too powerful,

After a great conflict, Taj is captured and 'recruited' to join a mysterious organisation dedicating themselves to maintaining balance. Taj is ultimately led to Simon/Simone and becomes the final member of their specialised team. Showing great resistance at first, eventually, Taj learns to accept and respect Simon/Simone, so when their leader declares they are to travel to the backwater town of Albach Bay, well... Taj comes along. Though not without reluctance.

Nazu/Naera [f/m] Supernatural type: Demon Nazu/Naera is a demon prince/princess from Hael. During a terrible conflict, their great power was muzzled as punishment for their part in the war. They've been seeking the people responsible so they can regain the power they lost.

Their search has lasted more than a decade, but now... Now they find themselves in a small, human town where sin oozes from every shadow, beckoning every passer-by to partake in its debauchery. To top it off? They can hear their power singing to them. It's close. Heh... They might even end up liking it here.

Umbra [f/m] Supernatural type: ??? Umbra is an anomaly. Nothing about them is real. None of it should exist. Every facet of their being has been strung together out of sheer will and barely held together by a thread. One wrong touch and they may fall apart, like unravelling a ball of yarn or pulling apart a puppet on a string.

So, why? Why do they exist? Simple.

They exist for you.

RO's appearances:

Simon: Broad-shouldered, athletic build with reasonably short black hair and light warm skin. He has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Simone: Athletic build with long black hair (typically pinned up) and light, warm skin. She has warm brown eyes hidden behind fashionable square frames and is often wearing tailored suits designed to move in.

Rain: They have a slim, petite build with flawless tawny skin, which is amplified by their pale blue hair and matching pale eyes. They tend to opt for a more colourful wardrobe in the pastel range.

Taj (male): He has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark, curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. His ears and tail are matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (He keeps them hidden underneath his clothes, which are often oversized to hide this face.) He also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking his body.

Taj (female): She has a lean build, golden brown skin, and dark curly brown hair that tends to have a mind of its own. Her ears and tail are a matching brown, reminiscent of a Havana Brown cat. (She keeps them hidden underneath her clothes.) She also has very serious grey eyes and numerous scars marking her body.

Nazu: (As a human)He is very built with dark skin, which ensures his almost luminescent amber eyes stand out. His long, dark dreads are usually pulled up in a bun. Nazu tends to opt for clothes designed to tantalise, as well as show off the hair dusting his chest and arms.

When in his usual form, he also has large horns that curl out of his head, with a more reddish hue to his dark skin. Plus, the whites of his eyes will turn black.

Naera: (As a human) She is very curvy, opting instead to amplify her femininity in human form. Her dark skin ensures her luminescent amber eyes stand out. Her long, dark hair is in tight braids that flow down her back. Naera will opt for clothing designed to tantalise, teasing her assets in a flirty way.

When in her usual form, her horns curl out of her head, with a reddish hue to her dark skin. Plus, the whites of her eyes will turn black.

Umbra (male): Tall and lean build with black shoulder-length hair that contrasts against his pale, almost ghostly skin. He tends to have dark circles under his equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through his left brow. His clothing usually consists of a black leather jacket, black pants and black combat boots.

Umbra (female): Tall and slim build with long black hair, half up in a pony, that contrasts against her pale, almost ghostly skin. She tends to have dark circles under her equally black eyes, as well as a deep scar cut through her left brow. Her clothing usually includes a black leather jacket, plaid skirt and black combat boots.

An urban fantasy/romance IF based in the fictional town of 'Albach Bay'.

Customise your private investigator: choose name, gender, appearance, sexuality, skill set and personality.

Play as male, female, or non-binary: straight, gay, bisexual, pansexual, as well as aromantic, asexual, or aro-ace.

Late 90s setting with limited technology, so be prepared to wait ten minutes for your PC to boot up.

Roleplay your private investigator how you want to. My intention is no 'game over' screens. There are no wrong answers in this game.

5 main companions to befriend or romance, each with their own personalities and stories to tell.

Collect evidence in your notebook as you scour the dilapidated streets and beaches of Albach Bay for clues to finally catch your father's killer for good.

Revenge is best served cold.

Rated 18+

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter two: look here all you want

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie gets your car back. You're trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

cw: deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, coercion (a bit), sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, depictions of abuse, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie makes sure that the man feels him before he sees him. It may be cruel, but he’s always had a flair for the dramatic– once a Dungeon Master, always a Dungeon Master– and what’s Hell without a little fun and debauchery?

The man smells Eddie’s sickly sweet, smoky aroma first. It’s the first thing anyone notices about him, of course. The shit follows him everywhere, alerting people of his presence like a fucking cat collar with a bell on it. The wind that he conjures always smells at least like a bonfire– at worst, he’s the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius. He guesses it’s some sort of infernal practical joke (he formed the hellfire club in life, so now he has to remain in it for the rest of time, or some shit. Don’t ask him. He doesn’t know all the answers, just the dumb ones).

Then the man jolts, his eyes flying all around him as he hears Eddie. Or, at least, what Eddie allows him to hear. It begins in whispers, like leviathans in the mists, murmuring and overlapping each other. It rocks slowly toward a crescendo. And then, Eddie’s voice, soft before the man realizes what’s happening to him. 

“Found you.”

There’s a sickening crack, and then the windshield of the car explodes beneath the man’s spine. He barrel rolls to the ground to find Eddie looming over him, staring him down, his eyes dead black and unforgiving.

“Hi, Spencer.” The heel of Eddie’s boot crushes against the man’s chest, holding him down. Eddie’s voice is comically musical, like the crackling of brush just beginning to go up in flames. “Busy tonight, are we?”

The man, Spencer, trembles as he stares up at Eddie. Blood tinges his bottom lip, either from biting it when he hit the windshield, or from coughing up whatever blood exists in his fermented body. 

He gestures at the duffel bag that he’d been holding when Eddie grabbed him, now laying on the ground. “Look, man– I dunno who you are, b-but you can have all the fuckin’ money, it’s right there–”

“I don’t want your fucking money.” Eddie squints at him, trying to gauge Spencer’s thoughts. They’re malicious, yes, but not murderous. He robbed the liquor store down the street, and then he pulled into the motel around the corner to try to check in with the money. He’s dangerous and stupid, but he’s not a killer. Yet.

Eddie didn’t have to read the guy’s mind to know that, though.

“Whose car is this?”

“What?”

“Whose–” Eddie digs his boot harder into the guy’s chest– “Car?”  

“Some fuckin’ small town whore, how should I know?” Now is not the time to play coy. Spencer learns that when Eddie’s foot shoots forward, and the toe of his book connects ungraciously with his chin. Pain rockets through his jaw. “Fuck!”  

“Save it.” Eddie’s temper has grown exponentially with his immortality, he thinks. He wonders sometimes if he’d always been this way, or if Hell has just made him worse. Probably both. “Do you have any idea who you’ve stolen from?”

He’s seen the memory– Spencer, drunk off his ass and running on blind adrenaline from robbing a corner store, stole your car from the parking lot of a diner; the diner where you work. 

You had to walk home in the rain. Eddie’s heart practically aches, watching you come home to an empty apartment, dirty and wet and shivering. He never wants to see it happen to you again as long as you live. He’s promised you that it won’t. 

He also promised they’ll get as good as they gave. And demon or not, Eddie Munson never ever goes back on a promise.

“Hell, I stole from lotsa people,” Spencer chuckles, his head sliding back and forth across the pavement as he rolls his eyes, gargling on the blood in his mouth. “F’yer here to collect, y’can just take the money and go. I ain’t got nothin’ else.”

“Oh, but you do, Spence.” Eddie grins with sharp teeth when he bends down to pick Spencer up by his throat. The flames in his eyes burst to life, roaring red and demonic. A flash of recognition crosses Spencer’s face when he realizes that Eddie is far more than he seems. “See, you stole from my girl. Now you get to suffer.”

Eddie was always intimidating. He made himself appear like that to push people away, until it started to backfire on him, and then it just got worse when he became a demon. It’s a natural instinct for humans to shrink away. He emanates danger, even when he’s not putting on a show– even when his eyes are dark and he isn’t producing fire from his hands. 

That’s one of the things that sealed your fate. You didn’t shrink away from him, even when he tested you. He’s always been a show off, and he’s very egotistical, he won’t lie. He gave you a little taste of his dark side, showed you his hellfire and brimstone, and you called him hot. To his face.

Well, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Even if he wasn’t already sold on you, there was absolutely no way he was letting you go after that.

Eddie dumps Spencer on the ground. In Spencer’s head, the haunting voices seem to crash back raucously as magma boiling at the lip of a volcano. A chill sweeps through Spencer’s body as it retreats, as he feels the creeping panic rising in him, the ringing in his ears. Then, as soon as it fades, it’s again overthrown by the chorus, the cacophony of behemoth voices. Overlapping each other, humming along with the slow heartbeat of the drums.

It’s the arc toward the end of the death metal album Eddie wanted to write during his lifetime, but never got the chance to. It has to be good for something, even if Spencer is never going to appreciate Eddie’s musical genius. 

Spencer doesn’t need to know that, though.

Spencer lays trembling, his hands clapped tight around his ears. Nothing will stop it, save time– and by then, Spencer will probably be wishing Eddie had just killed him and gotten it over with.

Eddie steps around Spencer’s body, sighing. If Hell has made him cruel, it’s also made him weirdly just. Great power, great responsibility… all that jazz. 

Yeah, the powers are pretty fucking cool, he won’t lie about that. 

The windshield of the car decompresses itself at Eddie’s touch, the glass creaking and groaning as it fits back into proper shape. From there, it glows bright orange and melts back into one solid pane of glass, back in the way that it had been before Spencer’s back played Happy New Year with it.

Eddie sits in the driver’s seat, his fingers nearly denting the steering wheel where he grips it. He just hopes that you don’t freak out when he gets your car back to you.

You freak out.

Granted, you only made the deal with Eddie yesterday, and you had a long day at work. For you, the afternoon had been painfully slow. Maybe it was a good thing that the diner doesn’t have a major rush every single lunch service, but it just means more of the shit work that your newbie manager, Colin, loves to give to you now that he has the authority to. You don’t know if it’s payback for you making him slice bread during his training, but he’s taking it a little bit too seriously. 

You’re technically a waitress, so it’s really not in your fucking job description, but tonight he made you clean the men’s bathroom. 

Did you know how many men will just ejaculate onto the wall of the men’s bathroom in a small town diner? No. But now you do, and the answer is too many.

You had to walk home, as per usual since your car was stolen a little less than a week ago. And then you got to your apartment complex, got to the last place on the last row of buildings, and your fucking car was there, in your parking space. Beautiful and gleaming and with fresh license plates.

You’re freaking out. You absolutely are– you didn’t think it was going to happen this quickly. You figured there must be some kind of wait period. Demons aren’t obligated to make shit happen right away, are they?

(They’re not. But this demon could care less.)

When you get inside, all it takes is a single whiff of smoke to deduce that he’s there. In your apartment. With all the lights turned off. You flick one on and find nothing.

“Eddie?” You say his name out loud for the first time, your voice muddled with awe. The faintest of murmurs, but to him you may as well have screamed it.

The lights flicker, and in a flash he’s standing before you. Across the room, leaning against the door to the bedroom like a vision. His eyes crackle with fire, a coy smirk on his face. “I like the way you say my name. It’s pretty.”

You startle, your body suddenly functioning apart from your mind. Your back hits the front door you’ve just stepped through, mirroring him.

“Whoa whoa whoa– hey! It’s okay.” He holds his hands out toward you, palms up, like you’re a frightened animal. In a way, you are. “We’ve been through this before, princess. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m just your friendly neighborhood demon.” 

Eddie reminds himself to stop rewatching Spider-Man every time he gets a chance.

It has to be fake, you think. You’re exhausted, he couldn’t be here. And yet the room is filled with his fragrance, suffocating and somehow intoxicating. Like you might die from it but you’ll enjoy it all the same. It’s so magnetic that it nearly pulls you to him, taking a hesitant step forward toward the bedroom and then stopping short.

“How– you’re not– how are you here?” You ask him as softly as you can manage. “I thought you could only show up at a crossroads.”

“Not everything is literal, sweetheart.” He thumps his hand against the door behind him, giving you a dazed smile. “Points of entry and departure. Two paths meeting. Crossroads.”

“Huh.”

Eddie takes in the sight of you steadily, calmly, worried that if he moves too suddenly then you might disappear. You’re wearing a black, retro-style waitress’ dress and running shoes– muddy from your walk home. You clutch your house keys to your chest almost instinctively.

That reminds him of the reason that he’s here– not just to check you out, unfortunately. He brandishes your car keys, dangling them from one crooked finger. “Brought you your car.”

“Yeah, I, uh… I noticed.” After a heavy beat, you look away. Your voice is thick with tears– you’re crying. “Sorry. Thank you. I didn’t, um– I didn’t mean to offend–”

“Hey– You didn’t.” Eddie doesn’t know what to do with your tears– he doesn’t want to see you cry, ever, but he’s spent a little too much time causing tears to know how to effectively stop them anymore. He places the keys on the counter nearest him, leading into the kitchen. “I know, it’s not what you’re used to.”

“It’s not,” you agree. “It’s nice.”

Eddie rocks back against the door, pressing into it. The wood creaks under his weight. “Nice,” he echoes. “Haven’t been called that in a while. It’s… nice.”

You snort, and it’s enough to have him grinning all over again. You turn away slightly, and when you turn back you smile at him sheepishly. Trying to suck back the tears that had sprung forth so quickly. “How did you get the car back?”

He squints. He thinks to remind you that he has magic, something that a normal person wouldn’t be able to use– except, he didn’t just poof it into your parking space. He drove it, like a dumbass.

He clicks his tongue. Be cool. “I had a talk with the guy who stole it. He won’t be bothering anyone anymore.”

“Oh my god– you killed him?” 

Not that cool. “No! No, I– I would nev–” you’re a demon– “I would seriously consider the consequences–”

“This is unbelievable.” 

“Hey, I got you the car back. Without killing! Even though it took so so so much impulse control, please clap.” He tilts his head and grins at you. He figures he probably looks insane with his glowing eyes and cheshire cat smile.

You nod and take a calculated step forward. You point at the open wine bottle on your kitchen counter. “I’m getting a drink.”

He shrugs. “You own the place.”

“No, I don’t,” you scoff, approaching him. The scent of smoke grows stronger with each step, until you’re engulfed in it. “I pay rent up the ass because I can’t afford any place else.”

Eddie watches you pour a glass of wine with the interest of a collector looking at a piece of fine art. “What would you prefer?” 

The air hangs thick with implication. What do you want me to do? Eddie holds the edge of the counter with his ringed fingers, watching your brow screw up in contemplation. He wants to reach forward and smooth it over with his thumb, get rid of any worries you might have.

He’s a sorry son of a bitch, is what he is.

“What I want–” you stop, your eyes falling to his hand. You stare at it for a long time. Hard knuckles that you’re sure have drawn blood, clunky rings like weapons. You wonder why he keeps them there indefinitely, why he chooses those accessories, keeps this form. He’s intimidating, dangerous-looking, and yet you feel a weird sort of comfort around him. 

He’s the most dangerous thing in any room, and he’s asking what you want.

You look up into the demon’s smoldering eyes, and take a breath. “What I need is to not take home pocket change, because my shithead manager won’t stop skimming my tips. Y’know I trained the fucker?” Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah. Piece of shit won’t stop giving me crap work just because he can, and I’m– I’m–”

Eddie wordlessly nudges the wine glass towards you with the tip of his finger. You grab it and take a long gulp. 

You sort of stutter and cough, trying to catch your breath when your tears of exhaustion keep wanting to spill. You’re furious. You’re so fucking angry that it’s vibrating in your bones, threatening to wither and crack them under its force. You start breathing in heavy, short bursts of air that don’t do much to calm you down at all.

“I’m barely making enough to cover my rent even with my tips,” you continue. “But now he’s stealing them and I’m having to skip breakfast to save food and I can’t find another job because the people in this town fucking hate me–”

A warm hand settles onto your back, heavy between your shoulder blades. A little bit of the tension in your shoulders melts and releases, but along with it comes the tears you were holding back. You shiver, leaning further into his touch as though it’ll ground you. Your sinuses are sore and your eyes sting as hot tears slide down your cheeks, but you let Eddie hold you up. 

“Want me to kill that guy for you?” Eddie smirks when you cough out a little laugh that sounds more like a hiccup, but he’ll take it. “What? I’m so fucking serious. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you anymore. What kind of a demon daddy would I be if I did?”

“Shut up.” You bat his chest with the back of your hand. He chuckles, and the sound is as warm and soothing as his hand on your back. Your lip wobbles, your brow screwing up as you try to even out your voice, but you just come out sounding like you’ve got something stuck in your throat. “What are you, a genie with three wishes? I tell you my sorrows and you snap your fingers and fix it?”

“You get a lot more than three with me, sweetheart,” Eddie promises. His eyes are unwavering, his hand stroking lightly back and forth between your shoulders in a way that has you hypnotized, leaning towards him. “And it may take more than just snapping my fingers, but yes. I’ll do it for you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re married, baby.” He holds your gaze gently, hoping not to upset you any further. “‘Til death do we part,’ right? We’re a team now. Your needs, my needs. That’s why you signed the contract. That’s why I gave you this.” Eddie’s warm hand ghosts over your wrist, and the mark that bears his name seared into your skin. The mark tingles, itching with recognition at his touch. “Just say the word and it’s yours.”

You’re still crying. Big, glossy tears falling down your cheeks, making him falter. He’s floundering. He doesn’t know how to make them stop, and the more he tries to get you to tell him, the harder they’re falling. You aren’t hyperventilating anymore, thank fuck, but you’re still quietly sobbing, and you’re not telling him what he needs to know.

Eddie tries searching for it. Squints at you, tries reaching into your mind to find what you need– sort of the same way that he saw the memory of you and the fucker who stole your car. All he gets is one repetitive thought, spinning around in the forefront of your mind. 

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me.

“C’mere,” he tells you softly. Eddie reaches forward, turning you slowly by the shoulder until you’re facing him. He watches your face for any kind of disgust– there’s nothing, save the big tears that keep falling. 

He pulls on your shoulder, just barely, and you crumple. You face plant into his chest and take a deep, shuddering breath that rattles in your lungs and tastes like a campfire. Eddie is warm as a space heater and his arms are strong, wrapped around you tightly to keep you from falling. 

Eddie holds you until he feels you stop crying. He thinks. Maybe you’re still crying, but it isn’t shaking your entire body anymore, and he feels like that’s a move in the right direction.

“Just say the word,” he speaks into your hair, just loud enough for you to hear. A timid hand comes up to pet the back of your head. He hasn’t held someone like this in ages. “I can try to read your mind, but then I get the wrong idea, and you won’t like what I’ll do. I’m willing to do anything for you, honest. But y’gotta tell me, baby.”

You hesitate, and then you pull back, puckering your lips in a way that distracts him. He fixates on them, tilting his head as he watches the way they move. Remembering how they felt on his own when he kissed you last night. He hasn’t kissed someone in ages, either.

“No killing Colin,” you conclude, knocking him out of his reverie. He groans. “I’m serious! He’s a dick, but I don’t want that on my conscience. Please, Eddie.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, pouting and stomping his feet. “But you wouldn’t feel that way if you saw the kind of torture we can whip out in ye olde Hell. Make your skin crawl right the fuck off. Ooh! That’s actually a good idea–”

“Maybe, sometime.” You shake your head. “But not now. Just… get him to quit. Or something. Okay?” 

Your hand presses into Eddie’s chest. It feels like a blast straight into his infernal heart. His eyes fall to it, taking in the willing touch that you give him and letting it define his entire being for a second.

Oh, he’s in trouble. He’s really, really done for.

“Okay, sweetheart. Anything you want.” 

His kiss is a ghost of a touch on your cheek, just barely a whisper of skin on skin. Just enough to make you gasp and nearly turn your head, to lock his lips with yours. You practically fight the urge to do it. Your heartbeat kicks up– not for the reason you think it should, either. You aren’t scared. He doesn’t make you nervous– at least, not in an uncomfortable way. 

You want Eddie to press his lips to yours, and you want him to hold you again. You want him to stay indefinitely. Make a home on your couch and hold you in his lap all night. You think that if you asked him, he might do it. Anything you want, right?

But he pushes away from the kitchen counter, and he’s gone as quickly as he appeared, in a rush of air carrying his scent. With a sigh, you sink back on your heels, finding yourself wishing that his arms were still there around you, to catch you before you fall.

You lift your glass of wine to your lips. The imprint of his name still itches on your wrist.

[cherubfae]

Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.

"𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯" || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal, no smut but still MDNI

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!

Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.

True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.

As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.

Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.

"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.

Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.

Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.

Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.

"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"

Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.

Hazbin Hotel.

Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?

With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.

Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"

On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"

With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.

To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.

"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.

"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.

Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.

Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.

"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."

You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.

Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.

"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."

"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."

It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?

Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.

"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"

Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.

On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"

Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.

An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.

"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.

"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."

Vox groans in protest. "I know."

Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.

Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.

Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.

"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.

"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.

Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."

"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.

"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"

Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.

Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."

Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."

Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.

Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."

Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐢𝐫 - Part 1

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Pairings: Alastor x female reader Summary: During a night out at a club with the hotel crew, you enjoy dancing and drinking with Angel while Alastor remains visibly uncomfortable in the lounge area. Seeking distraction from your conflicted feelings towards him, you connect with another woman, which quickly escalates into an embarrassing situation. This forces you to question not only your emotions but also the true nature of your complicated relationship with Alastor. Warnings/Tags: female reader, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, kissing, reader is bisexual and makes out with another woman, Alastor gets jealous, Alastor is bad at feelings so instead of communicating his jealousy he decides to taunt reader, second hand embarrassment Wordcount: 4.4k A/N: I can’t believe it – I’ve finally managed to write a new story! It has a second part that’s almost finished and will be posted at the end of the month. If you’d like to be tagged when it’s up, just let me know! Fun fact about this story: It includes lore about my OC Mara, as the circumstances under which the reader meets Selena are the same as those in which Mara encounters her best friend in my AU! Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

   The club was packed with bodies and the colorful neon lights flickered in time with the relentless beat of electronic music. Loud chatter and the pounding bass around him formed an unbearable cacophony that made Alastor cringe inwardly. He despised the modern scene and its noise, the crowds and overall lack of refinement. It was far from his idea of a pleasant evening. Oh, how much he hated to be here. Stressed and feeling completely out of place, Alastor sat in the lounge area of one of Pentagram City's most notorious clubs, his grin strained, his ears perked up and a much too sweet cocktail in his hand. If it wasn’t for his gloves, the whitened knuckles from his heavy grip around the glass would’ve been apparent even from afar. He hadn’t intended to come here and would’ve preferred to stay at the hotel, settling himself in front of his fireplace with a good book and fine jazz in the background. Honestly, he would’ve even preferred to clean the entire hotel over being forced to spend his time in this establishment which felt as wrong as a walk through the Vee’s district. It was Angel Dust who had brought up the idea of this excursion, promising a wild night of fun and debauchery to blow off some steam. The other residents had barely hesitated, convinced by the idea of spending a night out together. To Alastor’s biggest disapproval, they had insisted on him to accompany them. Not that they would’ve had the power to convince him to leave the tranquility of the quiet hotel behind for such a cacophony of modern entertainment that could be the product of one of his nightmares – no. It was you who had convinced him in the end. You were just too persistent and persuasive, and he was just too taken with you to refuse after such big eyes begged him to join.

   You, on the other side, enjoyed the evening. You were completely in your element, dressed up in a tight but elegant cocktail dress and exuding confidence as if you owned this place. Together with Angel Dust, you dominated the dance floor with fluid and inhibited movements, your arms held up in the air while you swung your hips to the rhythm of the music. You quickly became the center of attention, especially for Alastor who couldn’t help but watch you from his secluded spot, a mix of admiration and irritation flickering in his otherwise unreadable eyes. How he admired your confidence, your ability to let loose in such an uncomfortable and overstimulating place, reveling in the atmosphere with such vivid enthusiasm. Yet, the feelings he held for you were a secret, cautiously buried beneath the layers of his Radio Demon persona. 

   “Come on, Smiles, loosen up and have some fun,” Angel Dust suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts, and Alastor snapped his head in his direction, raising his eyebrows at the spider demon. When did he leave the dance floor? As Alastor glanced at him, he noticed a small tray with half a dozen shots in his hands. Angel must have left for the bar to get drinks for himself and the others. If he really thought he could convince Alastor to indulge in this kind of modern entertainment, he was delusional.

   Without a word, Alastor rolled his eyes and waved him off, his gaze drifting back to you before he got aware that Angel Dust still stood beside him and turned his attention to the glass in his hand.

   The spider demon let out a deep sigh. “Alright. Haven’t expected anything else,” he murmured and walked on, but not without placing one of the full shot glasses on the small table in front of Alastor and disappearing before Alastor could say something. He watched Angel Dust return to the dance floor, heading directly towards you. Then he stared at the shot glass and raised his eyebrow, clear liquor grinning back at him. With a sigh that was impossible to hear under the loud noise other people dared to call ‘music’, he took it in his hand and downed the substance in one gulp. A spicy burn seared in his throat, making him cough. At least the shot was tolerable…

   You had the time of your afterlife. Increasingly intoxicated after downing one drink after another you danced in the crowd, hips swaying vividly to the music with such unrestrained joy you haven’t felt in a long time. It was a good idea to agree to Angel’s suggestion to go partying. You didn't know that you needed this until you had arrived and he dragged you to the bar almost immediately to get ready for a night of reckless debauchery. You haven’t left the dance floor since you’ve emptied your first longdrink and probably won’t within predictable time because Angel Dust served you with new drinks almost every quarter of an hour.

   You watched your friend worm himself through the crowd, skillfully avoiding contact with any of the other guests, balancing the tray high above his head while he shielded himself from accidental punches with his second set of arms. When he arrived, he placed the tray on a high bar table not far from you. Still entranced by the music you danced your way over to him.

   “Damn, you really want to mess me up, huh?”, you joked as you noticed the amount of shots he got and Angel shrugged his shoulders.

   “Lil’ stock supply will prevent me from fighting myself over to the bar for at least another half an hour,” he responded, handing you a shot glass and taking one for himself.

   A laugh escaped your throat and you praised him for his genius idea with a quick wink. “Then let’s hope no one will spike them when we look away.” With that, you raised your shot glass in a quick toast and downed the clear liquor with high anticipation, a cough escaping you as the spicy alcohol burned down your throat. Dry Ouzo. Tasty, but like fire in the stomach.

   Angel chuckled at your reaction, clearly unaffected due to his regular club nights with Cherri.

   “Hey man, thanks for the drinks!” a random stranger exclaimed over the music, boldly snatching two shots away and disappearing in the crowd as fast as he had appeared.

   “And so the stock runs out,” Angel Dust deadpanned with an annoyed expression, staring with narrowed eyes in the direction the shot thief took their leave.

   You snorted through your nose, erupting in wholehearted laughter at his reaction, and shrugged your shoulders. “Looks like you’ll have to return to the bar sooner than anticipated,” you mocked him with a smirk, patting one of his lower shoulder joints.

   “Hmpf…” Without another word, Angel took another shot and downed it right after.

   You and Angel Dust spend some time just standing at the bar table, chatting with raised voices and watching the other guests while you commented on their dancing styles or played a sheepish game of ‘fuck, marry, kill’ with random strangers you pointed out from the crowd.

   After what was about an hour, you cleared your throat. “I need to go to the bathroom. After that, I’ll head to the bar and get myself a soda,” you informed Angel, and he nodded in acknowledgment. Pushing yourself up from the table, you navigated through the crowds, the effect of almost half a dozen shots clearly affecting your vision and balance. It wasn’t too debilitating because your body could handle large amounts of alcohol easily, but you still felt uncomfortable and needed some time to steady yourself and return to your senses. Some non-alcoholic drinks might work wonders to ease the symptoms. You're bound to face a brutal hangover tomorrow anyway.

   After you returned from the bathrooms you walked over to the bar, ordering a simple soda from the barkeeper. You thanked him as he handed you your non-alcoholic drink and leaned with your back against the bar counter. As you took a few gulps, your gaze wandered around the club and a sigh escaped your throat. It was an awesome evening though different from what you expected. You actually had planned to take it easy and not indulge in such debauchery. But Angel had claimed you as soon as you entered the club, dragging you away from the group and lulling you to loosen up. It’s not that you weren’t eager to go clubbing. You actually liked to partake in such excursions and just forget about the daily stress for an evening full of fun and loud music. And this time, it seemed to be helpful to suppress certain matters of the heart as well…

   Your gaze wandered to the lounge area where you found a certain deer demon sitting on a couch – the seats around him unoccupied because no one dared to sit close to him – and you could feel your heart sink. You were so confident when you convinced him to join your excursion and yet you didn’t dare to spare him a single glance ever since you entered this establishment. You had convinced him to join in a moment of boldness, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this could be an opportunity to bridge the gap between you. But instead you feared that you complicated things even further.

   Alastor was an enigma and that was part of the allure that drew you in. His charm, his charisma, and the old-world chivalry he brought to every interaction caused you to melt every time he was near. He made your heart race with a single glance, his touch – so commanding yet delicate – set your skin on fire, sending thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was a force of nature, fierce and unpredictable, with a soft spot only those he chose were privileged to see. And you were one of those people. Yet, you weren’t even sure if you meant anything to him because he held you at a respectable distance, initiating a game of push and pull between you that left you reeling.

   Was it a mistake to bring him here? A part of you thought it was because you knew he never was one for Hell’s modern nightlife and seeing him sit there, a predator among prey with a strained grin plastered on his face and holding onto a drink in his hands, only highlighted the chasm between you two. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that you made things worse by dragging him into an environment where he seemed completely out of place, and where your feelings for him felt more unrequited than ever.

   "Dizzy head?" A female voice disrupted your train of thoughts, and you raised your head to meet the kind face of a beautiful woman leaning against the bar counter. She held a long drink with a tiny paper umbrella in her hand, her lips curled into a soft smile. Her skin had a pale pinkish hue, almost ghostly under the club's dim yet colorful lights, while two horns peeked out from her thick raven hair.

   "A little," you responded, pushing your daunting thoughts away, and took a sip from your soda. "But nothing to worry about. A few minutes of abstinence will do enough," you laughed lightly, trying to shake off the haze.

   The woman laughed along and glanced thoughtfully at the drink in her hands. “I’ll probably do the same after this one.” She shrugged and then turned her gaze back to you. “I’m Selena,” she introduced herself with a bright smile.

   “Y/N!” you returned much more joyfully than you felt.

   “So, your first time here? I’m a regular guest here so I know all of the common faces.”

   You took another sip from your soda. Maybe getting to know someone new would help you feel better. “I actually came here with a group of people. Friends and co-workers, you could say. Just a simple night out to get some distraction from the stress of maintaining the hotel,” you explained with a slight smile on your lips as your gaze quickly wandered around the club. You noticed some of your companions scattered across the establishment.

   Selena tilted her head curiously, clearly intrigued. “The hotel? So, you’re working at that ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” she asked, and soon your casual small talk turned into an extensive conversation. You told her about your job and Charlie’s unusual belief in redemption that barely received any recognition, and Selena listened intently, her curiosity keeping the conversation alive with thoughtful questions. As you talked, a sense of relief washed over you. Slowly, you learned more about Selena, and before long, thoughts of Alastor faded from your mind entirely.

   As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn back into the rhythm of shots and cocktails, and soon enough, Selena dragged you back to the pulsing dance floor. The flashing lights and thumping bass faded into the background as you moved in sync, the world reduced to just the two of you dancing and laughing like old friends. The chemistry between you was palpable. Selena mirrored your enthusiasm and joy with such ease that it felt like you had known each other for years. With every dance move and shared laughter, the bond between you deepened and you were certain that if the night continued on this smoothly and you both remembered each other the next morning, you had found a new friend. 

   The music – a popular pop song from the early 2000’s – filled the air, infusing the atmosphere with nostalgia and energy, and a sense of euphoria washed over you. You danced, drinks raised into the air while you held each other on the shoulders. Each move felt like a release, a moment of being liberated from all worries and constraints as the adrenaline rushed through your veins.

   You exchanged meaningful glances with Selena, unable to ignore the magnetic pull you felt toward her. Was it merely the alcohol heightening your perceptions, or was it genuinely her captivating presence – her allure, infectious personality, and sharp wit – that drew you in? You didn’t know but your mutual attraction pulled you closer until you eventually slipped away, stumbling into a quiet hallway at the back of the club, away from the pounding music and the press of bodies. The alcohol clouded your vision, lowered your senses and your boundaries. And so, you found yourself caught in a passionate embrace with Selena. Your fingers played with her hair as you pressed yourself against her, using the proximity with that alluring woman to your own benefit to forget about the tight squeeze around your heart and all the inner turmoil you felt whenever you thought about him.

   Meanwhile, Alastor still sat in his secluded spot, grateful that his presence was nervously avoided by the other guests. He appreciated not having to endure forced proximity with people – at least most of the time. One time during the evening, Charlie – ever the caring person – had seated herself next to him, expressing her worry about his obviously strained mood and claiming to feel guilty for not allowing him to stay at the hotel. How funny that the princess truly believed she was the reason he joined their little night out; as if she had any authority over him... To his surprise, Alastor had easily managed to brush her off by affirming he was alright all over again. A blatant lie, but preferable over enduring more of her neverending rambling. Of course, she reassured him several times that returning to the hotel would be okay, before she eventually left him alone. And Alastor would have already left hours ago if it wasn’t his primary concern to ensure your safety.

   He felt a migraine coming on, an unpleasant throbbing in his temple caused by the stress this establishment was inflicting upon him. Rising from his seat, he decided to retreat from the main area to seek some respite from the oppressive atmosphere, instructing his shadow to remain vigilant. With his cane tapping against the floor with every step, he walked past the lounge area and the dancefloor, the crowd instinctively parting to make way for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Thanks to his observant shadow, he already knew that the back of the club led to an outside area that offered a welcome relief from the sensory overload.

   As he walked through the dimly lit hallway, the music became quieter, no longer assaulting his sensitive hearing, and instead, faint giggles reached his ears. He hesitated before rounding the corner and stopped dead in the tracks. There, in front of him, were you, pressed against a wall and your lips locked with another woman in a heated kiss. The scene was intimate, passionate, and entirely unexpected. Your body was entwined with her’s, your hands roaming through her hair while the woman held you in her embrace.

   For a moment, Alastor simply watched, unable to avert his gaze. This revelation caught him completely off-guard and his heart twisted painfully in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and confusion warring inside him. He had known that you were fond of men but this revelation left him reeling. But no matter with whom you were with, seeing you in such an intimate manner with another person was a blow he hadn’t anticipated and that sent a surge of anger through his body. He clenched his fists, torn between storming away and interrupting you, the discomfort palpable in his features while he fought to regain his composure.

   Sensing eyes on you, you broke the kiss and looked up. You startled immediately as your eyes fell on the red deer demon.

   "Alastor!" you exclaimed in shock, instinctively pushing Selena away. She turned her head, her eyes widening immediately, her face paling in shock and fear as she recognized the figure standing before you both. "You– you’re the Radio Demon!" she stammered, her voice shaky.

   You, still breathless from the kiss, clenched your jaws together, feeling just as uncomfortable as Alastor. His grin looked strained for a second but then he returned to his cold, unreadable expression, and your heart sank in your chest.

   “Alastor… this isn’t what it looks like…” you muttered a cheap excuse while you felt the heat rising to your face, turning your already alcohol-induced cheeks to a burning red. Your lips curled into a nervous grin, driven by the rush of embarrassment coursing through your veins, mingled with a heavy, unidentifiable tangle of emotions. Out of all your companions, why did it have to be him who caught you in the middle of the act?

   Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile now sardonic while his gaze wandered back and forth between you and Selena. His voice carried a heavy static as he responded, “Oh, I think it is exactly what it looks like, my dear.”

   You took in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t mean to–,” you tried to explain but Alastor cut you off with a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

   “Nonsense, my dear,” he laughed his discomfort off, pushing his jealousy aside, though the enhanced static on his voice betrayed his forced facade. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re free to do whatever you want. I am the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” He wiggled his fingers in a suggestive gesture that implied everything he wanted to say without having to utter a single word.

   You giggled nervously, your heartbeat slowly calming, and glanced at Selena who appeared visibly intimidated by Alastor’s presence, her posture tense and her joyful expression replaced by a mortified grimace, which only made you feel more uneasy.

   “I– I should go,” she eventually said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the hallway and attempted to walk off.

   “No, wait!” you tried to stop her, not wanting to be left alone with Alastor, but Selena just forced herself to tighten her lips into a reassuring smile.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll find you later,” she retorted, interpreting your reaction as a worry to not see her again instead of the sheer plea to not be left alone. With that, she walked off, returning to the main part of the club and leaving you alone with Alastor.

   You felt his lingering gaze burning into your side, the faint glow of his crimson eyes in the dim light of the hallway making him appear more dangerous than he was. Well, assuming that Alastor wasn’t dangerous would be utterly naive – he was literally an overlord and one of the most dangerous ones at that. However, he would never harm you, so in that sense, he was harmless.

   “Enjoying yourself, I see,” Alastor eventually commented, his unreadable expression sharpened by a subtle flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

   You still couldn't bring yourself to look at him and that comment only exacerbated your unease. Why did he have to be someone who found pleasure in keeping other people on edge? Could he at least not wallow in your discomfort now? It wasn’t as if you weren’t already suffering enough.

   You sighed and bit your lip, swallowing the clod in your throat before you pulled yourself together to say something. “We were just… oh fuck me…” you mumbled those last words quietly to yourself, “Look, she’s a friend and we got a little too comfortable after drinking so much booze.” While you tried to explain the situation, you asked yourself why you even bothered. He couldn’t care less. You weren’t dating and probably not even friends. Damn, you didn’t even know what you were because everything was just too complicated between the both of you. There were pushes and pulls and every time you felt some tension crackling between you it dissipated again, leaving you clueless and completely confused by Alastor’s unpredictable behavior, his intermittent interest in you, and those random moments that allowed you a fleeting glimpse behind his facade. It was infuriating the least and most of all profoundly frustrating. If it wasn’t for him and your damned feelings for that man, you probably wouldn't even have found yourself in this predicament.

   “Why are you even here?” you asked and eventually dared to look at him. 

   “I was seeking some quiet,” he replied, his voice softer now, the edge gone.

   “And then you stumbled upon us and decided to watch?”

   He let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, come on. I did not watch,” he dismissed your question with a nonchalant throw of his hand, rolling his eyes as if you just asked him the stupidest thing. “But your little rendezvous was attracting quite the attention, dear.”

   You gritted your teeth and decided to push his borders a little. If he could make the situation awkward for you then you could certainly return the favor. Besides, you were still drunk and the alcohol lowered your inhibitions enough to go completely bold in front of him.

   Narrowing your eyes you crossed your arms in front of your chest and relaxed back against the same wall you were just pressed against by Selena mere minutes ago. “Quite the attention or your attention, Alastor?” you asked, pretending to be more confident than you actually were.

   Alastor’s grin grew more strained immediately and you could swear that one of his eyes twitched for a quick second before he regained his composure yet another time. Why was he so tense? Normally, Alastor would’ve just raised an eyebrow and walked past you without further interest. But instead he froze on spot, obviously unable to avert his gaze until you felt his eyes on you.

   He didn’t respond, so your expression grew more smug as you decided to push him just a little bit further. Maybe you could use this situation to your advantage and finally get some answers… “Could it be that it bothered you to catch me with someone else?”

   “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, dear,” he dismissed your question with another throw of his hand, rolling his eyes yet again. “I was merely caught off-guard by seeing you engaging in such frivolities with another woman. I didn’t know you swung both ways.” He tilted his head and chuckled, the static filter on his voice distorting the sound almost unnervingly.

   “Well, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you retorted, your voice coming out sharper than expected.

   One of Alastor’s ears twitched at your aggravated tone. “Is that so?” he asked.

   “It is.” You deadpanned.

   A moment of silence lingered between the two of you until Alastor broke it, “Well, the world is full of surprises, isn’t it? And you, my dear, seem to be full of surprises too.”

   “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.”

   “How about both?” He tilted his head once more, casually positioning his cane in front of him and leaning on it the way he usually did when he found himself intrigued by something. The tension that had gripped him so tightly vanished as if it had never been there at all. And there it was: the so-called push and pull that left you reeling for months. 

   You took a deep breath, growing annoyed by this conversation. “If you don’t care then why are you still here?”

   “Curiosity, dear,” he responded casually.

   “Curiosity?” You arched an eyebrow, not quite buying his answer.

   “Indeed,” he affirmed.

   “Curiosity killed the cat,” you deadpanned.

   “And satisfaction brought it back,” he retorted, clearly enjoying the banter.

   You groaned. Why did he have to do this to you…? “Well, if you’re satisfied now… you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” You pushed yourself off the wall, ready to return to the dance floor – but not without heading towards the bar beforehand and ordering the strongest booze you could get here.

   You already set off, as Alastor’s voice called after you, “Running away, are we?”

   You stopped in your tracks and closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you were in public and therefore couldn’t just hit his head against a brick. Or…? Well, actually you could. You were in Hell, anyway. But Alastor was much stronger than you, and if you were to attack him, it meant that you couldn't be certain he would no longer be harmless to you. “I am not running away. I just don't see any reason to stay here and be interrogated by you any longer.”

   “Interrogated? My dear, I'm simply making conversation.”

   “This ain’t a simple conversation if you’re prying into my personal life.” With that you straightened your back and headed back to the main room of the club, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, completely unaware of the hurt expression on his face.

Part 2 will be out at the end of the month. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024): Masterlist

It's the most wonderful time of year!

I truly believe some kind of demon possessed me this last month and a half because I went hog-WILD with these prompts. Hope y'all enjoy the debauchery. Happy Monster Lovin' Everyone!

Day 1: Creampies (F!Reader x M!Satyr)

Day 2: Handcuffs (M!Reader x M!Orc)

Day 3: Blood Play (M!Reader x F!Vampire)

Day 4: Public Sex (F!Reader x M!Alien)

Day 5: Biting (M!Reader x M!Shark Merman)

Day 6: Lingerie (F!Reader x F!Orc)

Day 7: Non-Con (GN!Reader x M!Drider)

Day 8: Heat/Rut Cycles (F!Reader x M!Minotaur)

Day 9: Glory Hole (M!Reader x Tentacle Monster)

Day 10: Knotting (GN!Reader x M!Werewolf)

Day 11: Nipple Play (F!Reader x F! and M!Cow hybrid)

Day 12: Facefucking (GN!Reader x M!Incubus)

Day 13: Cuckolding (M!Ghost x F!Reader x M!Vampire)

Day 14: Corruption (F!Reader x F!Demon)

Day 15: Prostitution (GN!Reader x M!Robot)

Day 16: Hunter/Prey (GN!Reader x F!Alien)

Day 17: Facials (GN!Reader x M!Centaur)

Day 18: Body Worship (F!Reader x F!Gorgon)

Day 19: Kidnapping (M!Reader x Tentacle Monster)

Day 20: Double Penetration (In Two Holes) (F!Reader x M!Bunny Hybrids)

Day 21: Dub-Con (GN!Reader x M!Ghost)

Day 22: Mirror Sex (F!Reader x M!Harpy)

Day 23: Size Difference (M!Reader x M!Dragon)

Day 24: Pegging (M!Reader x F!Oni)

Day 25: Shower Sex (M!Reader x M!Shadow Demon)

Day 26: GangBang (F!Reader x M!Werebears)

Day 27: Praise Kink (GN!Reader x M!Werewolf)

Day 28: Sex Pollen (F!Reader x F!Plant Monster)

Day 29: Voyeurism (F!Reader x Mothwoman)

Day 30: Spanking (M!Reader x M!Werewolf)

Day 31: Honeymoon (GN!Reader x M!Selkie)

[sssatanic666]

Masturbate

Oh mighty Lord of Darkness, Master of forbidden pleasures and unholy desires, I call upon your infernal power to awaken the depths of my lust. As I indulge in the sinful act of self-pleasure, Let my hands be guided by your dark presence, Each stroke a tribute to your infernal majesty.

Satan, grant me the strength to abandon shame, To revel in the ecstasy of my own touch, And to worship my body as a temple of your wicked will. Let the fires of lust burn hotter, Each moment bringing me closer to the cum of unholy release.

By your demonic power, May my thoughts be consumed with images of debauchery, And my soul be set aflame with the desire to please you. As I reach the peak of my sinful pleasure, Let my cum be an offering to you, A testament to the dark bond we share.

Hail Satan, Lord of Lust and Pleasure, Receive my essence as a tribute to your glory, And let the waves of satisfaction wash over me in your name. With every breath, with every touch, I honor you, my dark master, Forever bound by the chains of our infernal desire.