#hazbin Hotel x reader

[alastorthirsty]

Hooray For Makeup Sex! - Alastor x f! fallen angel!reader

Request: Hi! I recently read one of your alastor pieces & ohhhh my god! It was amazing. I was wondering if you would do something alastor x f!reader where they have an argument, add some angst, some fluff, some heavy heavy smut? Almost like alastor begging for reader & wanting to do anything for her to forgive him ?? Just a little idea. :) thank you so much for your wonderful work!’

Hey nonnie! I’m absolutely thrilled to fulfill your request. I hope this hits the mark! Let me know if it does! 😘

Word count: 6678

Warnings: established relationship, breakup, angst, fluff, Alastor is a very jealous and possessive but also in love man, thigh riding, (angelic) bloodplay, vaginal intercourse

Please like, comment, and reblog to sustain me! Let me know if you'd like to be on my tag list and remember that requests are open!

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon. He stares at the heatless green fire in front of him, whiskey in one hand, the other tapping against the arm of his chair.

That was Charlie’s unsolicited advice, a rehash of old material. It starts with sorry, Al.

Well, he stubbornly doesn’t believe he’s in the wrong to begin with, so why should he go and grovel at your fucking feet?

‘Sorry’ is not a word in Alastor’s lexicon, and that’s that.

He throws the whiskey across the room suddenly, with such force that the crystal crashes into the opposite wall, forcing him to look at it.

Oh, it’s luxurious. A four poster bed with a white linen canopy. A mattress that adjusts itself to your whims, night by night. Silken sheets in the exact shade of your favourite colour. All of it for your benefit and yours alone—for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even sleep! He doesn’t need to sleep, he just needs…

Alastor stares at the bed, imagines how he’d sit next to you as you slumbered, glancing over at you occasionally for the sake of your comfort and security. He remembers how you’d snore lightly and how he would push hair out of your face as you snoozed. He remembers smiling…

He remembers smiling.

He also recalls other little activities the two of you got up to in this bed, satisfying a hunger he’d never known before you, but that isn’t something he craves anymore. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

‘Sorry’ isn’t a word in Alastor’s lexicon, even though… even though…

It needs to be.

He sits there thinking of everything from the beginning. The day you first met, all those mysterious luminous creatures floating along, moving your furniture past the lobby. Your soft and kind smile, the one that sickened him at first. That damnable dress you wore the first time the two of you hit the sheets, and how fun it was to rip it off your body. The way his shadow always tried to steal feathers from the wings of your shadow. The first time you yelled at him for that.

He thinks of where things went wrong, the man that caused that incredible din, but the only thing he can think of, if he is finally honest with himself, is himself. His own jealousy, his controlling nature, thinking he knew what was best for you. That was what sparked the argument, wasn’t it?

It his fault, certainly, but ‘sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, period.

The lilies are still on the bedside table. They are dried, desiccating, the little leaves and petals falling onto the surface. He had gotten the lilies to say ‘sorry’, in his own way, but you never did come back to his room.

He lays back on the bed and plucks a dying lily from the bouquet, keeping it in his hand. It's not difficult to imagine you there beside him, your arms wrapped around him as he presses his face against your shoulder, and oh, that’s when it really hits him.

Your scent. He remembers it so well that he smells it now, a phantom chased by nothing. His eyes close and he rolls until his head meets your pillow, breathing in your scent deeply.

‘Sorry’ is not in his lexicon, but goddamn it, there are lilies.

What would it take, what flowers would fix things, if lilies were not enough? Pink roses? White orchids? Tulips? A hundred dozen daffodils, flooding the entire hotel?

Alastor notices now how his hands are shaking at his sides. He clenches his claws into fists and closes his eyes, breathing in your scent again. The best thing to do is to incinerate the pillow, the bed, the lilies…

No, no. His jaw tightens. No, that would be the easy thing to do. Not the best, or even the smartest. It was the cowardly thing to do.

‘Sorry’ is not in Alastor’s lexicon, but he’s no fucking coward.

He can almost hear your voice in his ears, whispering his name with such sweet affection. He remembers your laugh, a sound like music to him. A laugh reserved for him and him alone. Something special.

He's never needed anyone else's company before. He never bothered with the emotional needs of other people. You’re the only person he's ever cared for, the only person who has ever truly meant anything to him. He feels weak and vulnerable over your absence. He doesn't like feeling like this, but you’re the one woman that can break down his walls.

Alastor doesn't like needing you, he doesn't like letting you have this power over him. But at this moment, he doesn't care. He'd give anything to just hear your voice again, even if it’s just to yell at him and tell him to fuck off.

Again.

The sound of your voice, the way you looked into his eyes, your little imperfections that only served to make you all the more perfect in his eyes. He remembers how your lips felt against his skin, the soft warmth of your touch.

He doesn’t like to need you, but he does love it.

He opens his eyes, clutching the now withered flower so tightly that all but a few brown petals fall from the stem. He stares at it for a long moment, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him. A green fire erupts from his palm, scorching it first, then turning it to ash. He stares at it, the lightness of it in his palm.

He's always had such strict control over himself, even under stress or grief, but not anymore. Not when it comes to you. You’ve always been able to cause feelings of weakness and helplessness within him. He hates himself for feeling this way, but at the same time, he can't bring himself to hate you. No, never you.

He closes his eyes again, imagining you lying beside him. You would have wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips to the side of his neck. Sometimes, you’d start leaving the tiniest of kisses down his neck. It would make him shiver, it would make him…

Just like that first night when things turned physical. Your hands would always find a way under his shirt, running your fingers over the muscles of his chest and stomach, your fingers tracing reverently over his scars.

He can almost feel the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body.

Alastor sighs in consideration of his current position. One of, if not the most powerful Overlord of hell, lying in a bed he does not need, pining after a fallen angel who once (admittedly, accidentally) broke a horn off his shadow. He breathes in your scent again. A fallen angel who made his mama’s jambalaya for him. A fallen angel who was never once intimidated by him. A fallen angel who created life, “along a certain slant of light”, as you put it, most of them visible only to you, except for shimmers of light, like oil on water.

A fallen angel who wouldn’t speak to him even if he said sorry.

Alastor sighs, sits up, holding her pillow like a child holding a fucking teddy bear.

“Fuck.”

He smacks himself on the forehead and drags his hand down his face.

“Fuck.”

He says it again, getting a taste of the word, the pride of it in its coarse formation and meaning.

Alastor sighs, holding the pillow, looking at the bouquet of dead lilies. “Fuck.”

He wants to feel the softness of your lips again. To feel the warmth of your skin, the press of your body against his. But more than anything, he wants to hear you laugh again. He wants that beautiful smile back, the smile you give to him and only him.

But he doubts that will happen. You’ve probably already moved on from him, and honestly, he wouldn't blame you for doing so. Well, that’s a lie.

He knows he's difficult, and demanding—sometimes too demanding. You’ve always been far more patient with him than anyone else, but even that has its limits. And he's certainly pushed those limits.

You’re probably in the arms of some other man right now, maybe even him, laughing as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You probably don’t even think about Alastor anymore.

‘Sorry’ may not be in his fucking lexicon, but like hell he’d ever allow another man into your bed, and certainly not…him.

Alastor makes sure he’s impeccable before riding the dark to your room. He decides it would be a rather stupid idea to appear inside your room without permission, so he settles on the hallway and knocks on your door.

“Come in!”

The sound is muffled, and he feels the sharp need to lecture you on not checking who is at the door before letting them in, but he refrains. He turns the doorknob and walks into your room for the first time in a while and finds you—

Down on the floor, halfway underneath the bed.

“This seems like a cliche pornographic film,” he comments as he shuts the door.

Herbert, the only one of the little light creatures that he can see, floats towards him.

You try to sit up right when you hear Alastor’s voice, banging your head. You get out from under the bed and stand up.

“Herbert, leave him alone,” you say.

“Nonsense! Hello little creature,” Alastor says to the glowing bastard he had tolerated at best before the breakup. He summons up an apple for the mischievous little son of a bitch to snack on and Herbert quickly zips away with it, disappearing under the bed.

“How did you know that being stuck is a porn cliche?” you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your arms crossed. “Been watching a lot of it lately?”

“I think you know that I have not,” Alastor says, leaning forward on his staff. “We just so happen to live with an adult film star who tries to pull the ‘help me I’m stuck’ routine on Husker at least twice per week. What were you doing under the bed, darling?”

“Herbert! He’s been stealing from me,” you say. “I knew I didn’t lose those emerald earrings you gave me. I found those and then some in his little nest under the bed.”

He can’t help but swell with pride. One of his favourite things to do was present you with gifts and he loved seeing them on you every time.

“What do you want?” you ask, and that deflates him a bit.

Alastor takes a breath, his chest rising. “I need you to instruct me in something.”

“Go ask literally anyone else.” You open up the door, gesturing for him to leave, but with a bit of boldness Alastor flicks the door closed again.

“I’m afraid there’s no one better to ask than you, my dear.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Alastor, I broke up with you so I wouldn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.”

Alastor pauses for a time. Honesty tumbles its way past his lips. “You are all that I love.”

The room goes silent, save for the sound of Herbert cronching his apple.

You give a sigh, a pained expression on your face, one that he hates to see. All of him wants to go to you, but you wouldn’t want that—not yet.

“Goddamn it,” you whisper. “Is that what you needed instruction for?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, loving you needs no instruction.”

You let out a breath. That’s all you can do before your head is in your hands.

“My dear, may I sit beside you?” Alastor asks after a moment’s silence.

“Oh, fuck you!” You stand up and circle around him once. “Fuck you, Alastor!”

His eyebrows rise. “That is not the response that I anticipated or desired.”

“Oh it’s not?” you ask mockingly.

He’s never seen you act like this before, and it is surprising him. An unseen variable, one that choked him. His grip on his staff increases.

“My dear, I sense that you still harbour quite a lot of animus—“

“Shut up! Shut up!” You pace back and forth the length of the rug, also a gift from him. “Fuck you! Fuck you for saying the right things the wrong time!”

Alastor takes a chance and sits down on your bed, watching you closely. “Do you want more earrings?”

You immediately go to your armoire and start throwing jewellery at him. He’s quite literally stunned by this behaviour. Herbert comes out from underneath the bed and snipes a few rings.

“Darling.”

You say nothing, you just keep throwing things at him.

“Darling.”

“Just take it. Take it all back. Give it to someone else.”

Now he looks offended and straightens his posture. You run out of jewellery to throw at him.

“You know there can be no other,” he says, somewhat angry. “You know I’m not capable of having any such enjoyment with anyone else. You are all I love and all that I desire to love. All I can love. There’s none but you and nothing will ever compare, never come close. Do you understand?”

“Then keep them for yourself. Or let Herbert have it all, enable his fucking kleptomania.”

“They belong to you and you will have them. Every last jewel.”

“Alastor, you shouldn’t be here,” you say.

“That is a consideration I undertook before coming.” He leaves his staff on the bed and goes to you. “I need your instruction.”

“On what?” you snap.

He lets out a deep breath. “How many lilies will it take to be forgiven?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Forget the lilies then,” he says quickly. “Just disregard the matter of florals altogether. What token is needed?”

“Token?”

“It doesn’t need to be a physical object, not a coin one inserts into a slot in exchange for heroin or soda,” he says quickly. “I am explaining myself poorly. I’ll be truthful and direct, if you will allow me.”

Your arms cross again, a defensive posture. “Okay.”

“I need you. I don’t know how to be without you anymore. It’s maddening. I find myself missing you in all these vacant spaces that were not vacant before you. You created space in me that only you can fill, and now it is…empty. You made me this way, and it is your fault,” he says quickly. “And what am I to do, now? Accept that I am now empty? Accept that I will walk through eternity alone, with all this space within me, space that you and you alone can occupy?”

“And you hate it, don’t you Alastor? And you hate me for it.”

“I considered that,” he admits. “I tried to insist it to myself, that I did not need such adulations and that I didn’t need you, specifically. I tried not to need you, but your absence insisted upon you. I do not hate you. Nothing could force me to feel that way, not myself, not you, not Herbert.”

“Herbert?”

“Correct. Herbert.”

You sit down beside his staff, touch the microphone knowing you were the only person ever allowed to do so. You sigh. “I love you, too. And just like you, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I know exactly what to do with it,” he responds.

“Yeah?”

Alastor nods. “We just…go back to before. Move forward. But together. I would sooner die than see you with another man.”

You lift a warning finger to him. “You’re not helping yourself.”

Alastor huffs. “It is the truth. You value honesty as well as I do.”

Now you scoff. “You deal in subterfuge, not honesty.”

“Not with you, and you know that,” he says, pointing at you. “I am a flawed man, but I’ve given you my very best. Better than I thought I had capacity for. Can you truly say that it was never enough?”

“Of course it was,” you say softly.

Alastor sighs and sits beside you. He thinks to put an arm around you, but manages not to.

“You are so used to getting everything you want,” you say. “You have the power to get whatever you want except me.”

He winces. “Please do not put it that way, darling. Please don’t say…we’ll never find a way. Please.”

Slowly, you reach over and touch his hand. When it curls together with his fingers, he places his other hand firmly on top, squeezing.

“Four hundred.”

He waits for you to explain, but you don’t.

“Four hundred what, dearest?” he asks.

You look at him and smile. “Four hundred lilies.”

Alastor snaps his fingers and four hundred lilies arrange themselves in vases on top of every surface in the room. Smelling them, Herbert whooshed out from underneath the bed and floated all along the flowers, playing with the tiny white bells in a way that Alastor could admit might be considered ‘cute’ by others. He looks back to you.

“Do you want to count them all, darling?” he asks.

“I don’t need to,” you say softly. “I feel like I should tell you something.”

“I do not like that,” Alastor says immediately. “I do not like the sound of that. Is it him?”

“Don’t bring this full circle to the last argument,” you warn. “There is no other man. I just thought…you really came in here and said things that I didn’t think you could. You really laid it all on the line and I feel like you deserve the same from me.”

Alastor nods along slowly. “No other man?”

You shake your head. “No other men. Will you stop? Will you please stop? Will you let me talk now?”

“I suppose,” he says, pulling you closer. He settles so that his head rests against your chest. “I am listening.”

“It’s not exactly easy for me to open up either,” you say before clearing your throat. “There’s a wealth of differences between us but similarities that are significant. We both struggle with making space for other people in our lives and typically won’t.”

“That is true,” he says, fingers running along your shoulder.

You start to play with his hair, the fuck-ass bob you only came to love because it was his preference. You’re tempted to touch one of his ears, but now’s not the time for that.

“Sometimes it’s simply hard to believe that there’s this perfect person that really…loves me,” you say softly, quietly, almost wishing that you hadn’t.

Alastor tightens his hold on you. Neither of you could handle personal vulnerability quite so easily, but yours makes his heart clench. “Do I make you feel…less loved when we argue over other men?”

You sigh. “Alastor, it’s not just an argument about men, it’s you basically calling me a whore—“

“No, I didn’t,” he interjects quickly. “No. I have never called you that or thought it of you. You are my favourite, my treasure, my prize, and I would never think so lowly of you. Never, not in all of eternity until what you call ‘the inevitable heat-death of the universe’. I would argue that heaven and hell are a different universe but that is yet another argument we should never cross again.”

“Agreed,” you say, nodding your head. “Just like the argument about—“

“Horses running on their fingers, I know.” Alastor can’t help the fondness in his smile. No matter how heated the arguments, the passion between the two of you manifests itself in all ways possible.

You smile back at him and decide to take the chance to kiss him again. Just once. Just to show him he was still loved, cherished, longed for. It was only right.

Alastor cups the back of your head to keep you there. Fuck once, now that he’s gotten to kiss you he chooses to interpret it as carte blanche to take as many as he wants. Damn, how he had missed this…

You gently remove his hand and pull away. “I’m not done speaking.”

“Apologies,” he mutters.

You nod and continue. “I want to be the one you love. I want to be the only one you love, just as much as you want to be the only one that I love. You just can’t treat me like a soul that you own.”

Alastor’s eyes widen at that. Had he really…?

He looks you dead in the eye. “If I ever do that again, correct me with a good slap.”

You shake your head. “No. I won’t lay my hands on you with anything but affection and…shall we say, intimacy.”

“Intimacy,” he repeats, and almost moans then and there. It has been…too long.

“I know,” you say. “I know.”

“Will you ever be…comfortable with the idea of it again?” Alastor asks.

“I’ve practically undressed you with my eyes since you came in here.”

He goes to make a move but you rebuff him once more, sitting up in the bed. “The fact remains that I am hurt by you when you start questioning me about the attentions of other men, attentions that I do not notice more often than not, if they exist at all. Especially not from him. I keep telling you, he does not look at me that way, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

He nods several times in thought before sitting up beside you, turning to face you. “I am afraid.”

Your eyes widen. You’ve seen him express all sorts of emotions in front of you before but never, not once, had even alluded to fear.

“W-why?” you ask with a bare whisper.

“I’m not a good man, and you know that. You know what I do almost better than anyone else. You are too good for me, therefore I fear another man will come along, catch your fancy, and leave me with the choice of either killing him and devastating you or simply languishing in my own self-pity. Why are you so far?”

(Obviously he would kill the other man.)

Alastor drags you into his lap and you give no resistance. He holds you tight, intending to never let go, not now when there was a chance.

You lay your head on his shoulder and breathe him in. You’ve missed his scent, too.

“I’m not too good for you,” you mutter against his neck. “And I won’t hear of it. Understood?”

He smiles begrudgingly. “Fine. You will have it as you wish, my dear.”

“So,” you say. “What now?”

“Move forward,” he says again. “Be with me again. Allow me to present you with jewels. I will…continue to put up with that little abomination eating the lilies.”

You gasp and look towards Herbert. You clap your hands together loudly. “Herbert! No! They might be poisonous to you, and besides, they’re mommy’s!”

Alastor can’t help himself but laugh. “Mommy’s, you say?”

“I made him, I’m mommy!”

Maybe…maybe it was possible. You’re not a sinner, after all, and Charlie does exist…

Maybe he can give you fawns, bond you to him for all eternity, heat-death of the universe be damned.

Alastor chuckles, lets that thought slide by (for now). He whisks the lilies away before the little bastard can make himself sick and throws another apple at him. Herbert gasps softly, takes it, and back under the bed he goes.

“See?” Alastor says. “I am suitable.”

You smile at him softly. “Promise?”

“Yes, dear. I do promise. There are many things I can’t. We will continue to argue over pointless things, that’s already in the cards. We will bump heads and piss each other off. I will be jealous, I will certainly be possessive, but I will never express it to you in a way that makes you feel like a harlot. And I will try not to over-analyse every interaction with him. Perhaps I will never express it at all, that would be best, I know…

“And I will fail. And you will, too. We will have our… fuck-ups, as you often call them. However, for all the fuck-ups we ever had before, not a moment passed when I did not know that I loved you. You created space in me, made my lungs full. I cannot be without you now, and I think you…I think that you are the same. I hope you are the same.” He pauses. “Please, darling.”

You kiss him, and in that he understands your acceptance of this. Of him, his words, the explicit and implicit promises. Words were difficult sometimes.

He grabs you tightly and rides the dark to his bedroom, to the bed he made for you.

You break the kiss with an air of incredulity. “You know I hate when you shadow whoosh me!”

“And you know I have exactly one rule about where we are intimate.”

You sigh. “Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“Indeed. Not above Herbert’s nest.”

“And who said anything about being intimate?” you ask, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

He smirks. “There she is.”

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” you say.

He grins, his eyes burning with a dark, sinful desire as he responds huskily, his lips against your ear. “Ah, my love, I want to do everything to you. I want to touch you, taste you, explore every inch of you until nothing exists to either of us except each other. I want to hear you moan and gasp my name, to make you feel things you've never felt before.”

You give him a wicked smile. “We should do that.”

He grows in agreement, his eyes burning with need and desire as he responds in a low, guttural voice. “We absolutely should. We will. I’m going to explore every inch of you, to make you feel things you've only dreamed of. Are you ready for that, my love?

He pulls you so that your back is snug against his chest, not a bit of space between your bodies. His clawed fingertips run from your knee all the way to your hip. He can hear that little gasp you try to hide, can feel that little shiver. The hem of your dress hiked up, his hand moves to cup your mound. He smirks to himself when he feels you rub against it.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing against the shell of it. He rubs against your underwear for a few moments, allowing you to rock your hips against his hand, and oh, there it was again. Control. Control over you, the greatest prize of all, and you gave it to him so willingly.

His hand slides his hand inside your silken undergarments easily—ones that he bought for you. It’s gratifying as hell, almost as good as feeling your slick folds against his fingers. He blunts his fingertips and rubs against you.

Alastor’s teeth catch on your neck and he’s more than tempted to bite down, but not just yet. You moan and he relishes it.

“You like that?” he murmurs against your ear. “You love it, don’t you? Being a good girl for me.” Alastor uses his free arm to wrap around your hips to stop you from moving. “Now, be very good.”

You give a soft little whimper when he won’t let you move anymore, knowing you’re at his mercy when he’s in a mood like this. Fingers slide inside of you, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

“Be still, and be quiet,” he instructs, smiling against your ear.

He can sense the struggle almost as soon as he says it. That little tremble in your thighs. The hand that shoots up to cover your mouth.

“Oh, no dear,” Alastor says, pushing it away with his free hand. ”Don’t test me again. No cheating, no tricks. No magic, no power. Only me.”

Listening to you trying to contain all your little sounds is priceless. Alastor knows how to play your body like a Stradivarius. His fingers move lower, deeper.

“Who makes you feel like this?” he asks, sucking a dark mark against your neck.

You’re not sure if it’s a trick or not until his little ministrations pause, causing you to whimper again. “You!”

“Atta girl,” he says affectionately. “You’re so wet for me.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your skin, his chin rubbing against your neck as he kisses and teases you. "My love, I can feel. You like it, don't you? You like how I can make you fall apart in my hands, helpless to my touch."

He bites your neck softly, his teeth scraping against your skin.

You take a few shaky breaths. “Am I allowed to speak now?”

Alastor pauses, as if deliberating, and the lack of movement in his fingers is excruciating. Your pussy throbs at the loss, clenching around them, and you’re near the point of begging.

“No,” he says momentarily. “No, you are not allowed to speak yet. Good of you to ask, darling, but now is the time for you to listen, not to speak. Now, stand up.”

Confused, you manage to get up from his lap and stand one rubbery legs before him. Your eyes give the inquiry your lips cannot.

Alastor parts his knees wide and pulls you to straddle one of his thighs.

Oh!

Your cheeks warm and your jaw opens slightly. You almost shake your head, but Alastor reaches for your chin and holds it between his fingers. With his other hand, he grabs one of your hips and forces you to start moving, the grind against your wet, clothed pussy causing you to gasp.

“I’ve missed you in more ways than one,” he says, slapping you on the ass to encourage to ride his thigh on your own.

“It was my own fault, I know that,” he continues, and places both hands on your hips to support you as you move. “I was insane with jealousy, yes, and that is also my own fault. I cannot tolerate the mere notion that someone else would get to see you…like this. You are so very beautiful, darling. You are so very, very much mine.”

He could never let anyone else have you. He knew that he never would. Surprisingly, his possessive words seem to make you grind harder against him, your hips working more quickly. Alastor welcomes this with a grin.

“Ah, my dear.” His hands move from your waist to your ass, squeezing, making you moan for him again. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let you fall. Come for me.”

Still unsure if you’re allowed to make any sound, you bite down on your lip hard, your eyes on his when a little golden rivulet drips from your poor, abused lip.

With a growl, Alastor lunges at you, though you are still in his lap. You fall down to the rug and he’s on top of you, licking up every trace of golden blood. Nothing could ever compare to it, he’d once said, and it turns him feral every single time he sees it or smells it. He kisses you, gently sucking at that tiny wound until it closes way too soon and his fist pounds the floor in anger. He raises his head, looks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, okay, but in bed,” you say.

Alastor picks you up quickly and tosses you onto it. He takes off his coat and throws it across the room. His bow tie is next, but you hold your hands out.

“Wait!” You say, reaching for him. “The shirt is my job.”

He grunts in his feral state, but he allows it, and soon his shirt is off and on the floor, forgotten.

“Where?” he asks raggedly.

“Where do you want?” you ask with a shrug. “This is your thing, but I’m happy to oblige. A bit. Not enough to make me dizzy.”

Permission granted, Alastor falls on top of you and goes straight for the jugular, literally. Just some sharp teeth and bam. He was drinking golden blood straight out of your neck, and you gave him the extra sensory delight of playing with his ears while he did so. He’s moaning, again and again, and you can feel how hard he is, pressed up against your body.

Eventually you decide he’s had enough and push his head away gently. Alastor kisses you instead, still giving animalistic energy, and rips away every article of clothing that separates you.

You can taste your own blood on his lips.

Somehow in this state Alastor remembers that he told you to come but didn’t let you and he quickly works to remedy that. His fingers enter you again. He knows your body well, he knows how to make you come in moments and you do, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Alastor finally leans back to look at the wreck he’s made of you and he smirks.

He holds one of your thighs against his waist and enters you fast, all at once, and the pace he sets is equally feral. Any time your blood came into the mix he truly could not help himself. His strokes are hard, deep, enough to make your knees wobble.

You hear him take a deep inhale and look up at him.

“My darling, the way you react to me, the way you react…Fit so perfectly, like your cunt was made just for my use.” Alastor bites at your neck again, but he won’t try to draw blood.

You grab one of the pillows and put it underneath your hips. This was an especially careful operation, considering how he was pounding you, but it tilted your hips and allowed for a more delicious angle.

Alastor’s clawed hand grabs your other thigh and squeezes hard. “What do you think, darling? Do you think this pretty little pussy was made for me?”

You nod several times, finding it harder and harder to catch your breath, but he’s without mercy this time. “Jesus…”

“Not an acceptable response, dearest,” he says with a little groan of exertion. He squeezes your thigh again. “Now, I believe I asked you a question. There’s only one correct answer, so give it to me.”

The sheets twist beneath your hands. There’s a decision to be made. Be forthwith and tell him yes or tease him until he’s out of his right mind.

“Damn it, darling,” he says impatiently.

You smirk. Let the teasing begin. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Alastor’s claws on your thigh almost drew more golden blood.

“You asked if my pussy was made just for you,” you say, your words coming out through pants because of his force.

His antlers grew larger, longer. His glare was menacing. His voice was dark.

“Then I suppose I must show you.”

The bed began to shake, and his tone shifted.

“Ah, my sweet darling, what I want to do to you right now is beyond description. I want to feel your softness, your warmth, your very essence against me, writhing under my touch. I want to take you, claim you, make you mine completely, with no doubting.”

“And how will you do that?” you ask playfully.

His hands grip you tighter, pulling you completely against him. He leans in, his lips trailing along your neck, his voice a low, dark growl in your ear.

“How will I do that, my sweet darling? I'm going to make you feel so good, make you scream from the pleasure of it. I'm going to kiss you, and touch you, and taste you, until you're so lost in pleasure you don't remember your own name or where you are.”

Your breath comes more and more harshly. “Did you soundproof the room?”

He gives you a look of pure incredulity. “Of course the room is soundproof! These precious little moans and gasps, they’re all mine, understand? Only I get to hear them, they belong to me!”

“Yes, yes!” You gulp for air.

“You do things to me, darling,” he says, “things that drive me absolutely wild. Your touch, your scent, your responsiveness, it all makes me ache and desperate for you. And you know it, don’t you?”

“I do my best.” You wink up at him. “Out of curiosity…what do I smell like?”

Alastor growls. “Ah, darling, you smell simply divine. I can't get enough of your soft, sweet scent. You smell like honey, like flowers, like the fresh air of a sunny day. It's intoxicating and completely addictive. I can't get enough of it, and I can't get enough of you. There will never be enough.”

“Keep me,” you whisper.

“Oh, darling,” he says. “Let there be no doubt in that. Yes, you're all mine. Mine to touch, mine to kiss, mine to have. I'm going to make sure you never forget that, darling. You're mine. Do you understand that?”

His hand comes up to gently squeeze at your throat, a warning.

You swallow, knowing he could feel every movement, and nod. “Yes, Alastor! Yes!”

His grip on your throat softens somewhat. “You just love to be under my control, don’t you?”

“I love being at your mercy,” you say with a moan.

“Is that so?” There’s a grin on his face that presses against his voice, dark and velvet. “And why is that? Tell me.”

Your eyes flutter closed. “Because I’m the only one safe at your mercy.”

“You’re right about that,” he says, pushing your thigh higher against your chest. “Look at you. Hair all mussed, lip swollen, bruises on your throat. And I did all of it. Tell me, darling. Tell me.”

“You did it. You did all of this to me, you’re the only one I want…”

That was what he truly wanted to hear, you knew. His jealousy is a problem and in all likelihood will continue to manifest itself, but at the root of it he just wanted to be the only one you had an appetite for. He fucks you harder and harder until you start screaming for him.

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing at your clit now. “Go on, make all of those beautiful, lascivious noises for me…”

You huff and gasp for breath. “Alastor, please, please let me come!”

He chuckles. “Yes, darling. That is the goal.”

When it hits you, you gasp first. Your hips grind against his, moving through it, along it, until it’s just too much—

But Alastor doesn’t stop. He holds you down, fucks you harder, draws it out for as long as he can. He smirks down at you as you shake for what he is doing to you—for you. His thumb circles your clit one last time before he’s finally merciful.

“So tight for me, darling,” he says, sucking the words between his teeth. It’s almost more than he can take, and he knows that it’s coming fast. He just…he needs something first.

He speaks in a gentler tone now, watching the bulge in your stomach move as he fucks you. “Darling…"

You’re still gasping for breath. “Yeah, honey? What is it?”

“Promise me that I’m…enough.”

“Enough?” You laugh, a raspy sound. “You’re too fucking much.”

Alastor lets out a gravelly moan, its intensity changing the pitch. You could almost swear that you can feel his cum inside you, all white and hot. When he finally stops moving, he leans against your thigh, chasing his breath.

“Bravo,” you say, putting your arms around him when he lays down beside you.

"I thought perhaps I had pleased you," he says, shuddering when you rub the base of his ears.

You laugh softly, breath finally caught. "Reconciled?"

Alastor nods. "Indeed. We are reconciled. If...you'll have me, anyway."

"I think that I will," you say, and from the corner of your eye, you see something on the wall and sit straight up, pointing. "That son of a bitch shadow of yours is stealing my feathers again!"

The smiling spectre flaunts his new feather and cuddles closer to your shadow. Maybe they were reconciled, as well.

[6esiree]

I know Alastor is… well, Alastor, but I feel like a relationship with him could be so wholesome. He probably wouldn’t be so overtly affectionate, but when he finds himself overwhelmed by his love for you, he will grab your chin and delicately trace the outline of your jaw with his thumb, press his forehead against yours, or give you eskimo kisses.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines

Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (｡ŏ_ŏ)

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.

Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.

Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.

Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.

Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.

Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.

So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.

Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.

The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.

Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.

Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.

Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.

At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.

If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.

If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.

Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.

Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.

When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.

Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?

If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.

So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.

Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.

Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.

When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.

He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.

If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.

As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".

Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~

Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.

But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.

Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.

Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.

He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.

Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.

Cute imagine by @voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<

Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.

[weepingwillowwonder]

No thoughts just RadioApple x Reader....

[NSFW MDNI 🔞]

Where you're laying in bed with them. Waking up from sleep confused, you feel sweet kisses along your back and shoulders and a hand between your legs, slowly fingering you. Soft noises of pleasure leave your lips and a voice mimics from behind you, a groan in your ear.

"Ah, did we wake you?" Lucifer's fingers only faulter when he takes them from you to line himself up at your enterance. "Taking it so well..." He lets out a curse as he eases himself inside.

The other watches you squirm as you become more awake, trying to rock yourself back against the one behind you.

"Shh, darling...let him have you.." Alastor whispers, stroking your cheek with his finger. Before capturing your lips with his own, he murmurs. "Let him have his way with you..."

That is all. ☺️

[ithopi0s]

@angelicpoison12 this reminded me of your stepdad adam fic /pos

this but w vox or adam

[cinnamon-galaxies]

MDNI

I headcanon Alastor as being a bit of a masochist in bed. Don’t ask why – I just feel like it fits him in a way I can’t quite explain.

...of course, he’s more than capable of taking on the opposite role when the mood strikes (which, let’s be honest, is probably most of the time), but that’s not the focus here... 🤫

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Chapter Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Child Abuse, Alastor drugs his mom so he and Y/n can fool around, Mentions of Masturbation, Reader has small tits but Al loves them, Dry Humping

Prev Chapter Four next chapter

“Lunch is ready, dears!” Mrs. Hartfelt called from the kitchen, “Alastor, love, come help me set up the dining table!”

“Coming, Mother!” He replied, “I’ll be right back,” he told Y/n.

“I can help too.”

“Please, you’re our guest. All you have to do is relax,” he gave her a lighthearted smile.

“Oh, alright,” she returned the smile.

“I’ll come get you when the table is ready,” he lightly kissed her hand before leaving to help his mother.

Y/n fidgeted her fingers.

I’m not used to relaxing. I’m usually the one cooking and setting up the table. This is strange. Wait, do I actually like doing the house work? Or is it just that I’m so used to it that I can’t even fathom not doing it?

Alastor entered the kitchen, “Smells delicious.”

“I didn’t have time to buy shrimp, so I used that one recipe that calls for venison instead. You think she’ll like it?”

“I’m sure, she’ll love it. Nobody cooks better than you, Momma,” he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Hm, why are you being so sweet all of a sudden? You two necking in there or something?”

“Haha. I’m just in a good mood. I’m having lunch with my two favorite people.”

His mother raised an eyebrow, “Okay, lover boy, go set the plates and utensils on the table.”

———————————————————————

As soon as Y/n took that first bite of Mrs. Hartfelt’s jambalaya, she didn’t want to stop.

“Oh my! This is the best jambalaya I’ve ever had,” Y/n exclaimed.

Mrs. Hartfelt seemed relieved, “I’m glad you like it, I was worried you wouldn’t since it’s not a traditional jambalaya recipe.”

“No, I love venison. I never would have thought to put in jambalaya but it’s delicious!”

Alastor had the biggest grin on his face, “We’re big on venison in this house.”

“Would you like the recipe?” Mrs. Hartfelt asked Y/n.

“Oh, yes please. My little sisters would love this,” Y/n replied.

“I’ll write up a copy for you to take home, dear.”

“Thank you so much, Claudine!”

“Don’t even mention it. Tell me what are your little sisters like? I adore children.”

“They can be a handful at times, but they’re good girls.”

“You should see them, Mother, they’re very cute and so polite. They’re definitely being raised right,” Alastor chimed in before smiling at Y/n.

“They must be, if they won you over,” Mrs. Hartfelt said to Alastor, “Alastor usually isn’t fond of kids, even when he was one. How old are they?”

“Annalise, the oldest, is ten. She’s an intelligent one, always gets good marks in school. Then there’s Marie, who’s seven. She can be real trouble maker. And then there’s Louise, who’s five. She daydreams a lot and I often wonder what’s going on in her little mind.”

“You speak of them as if they’re your own,” Mrs. Hartfelt smiled.

“They might as well be,” Y/n gave a small smile.

———————————————————————

Y/n looked outside of the window; the storm that had started during lunch gave no indication of slowing down any time soon.

I wonder if my sisters are alright. Hopefully they made it home before the storm.

Alastor stood next to her, “Would you look at that, there’s no way you can walk home in this weather.”

“It’s fine, I can make it home. I have to,” she replied.

He was about to protest when his mother chimed in.

“Nonesense! You’ll catch your death out there! You’ll just have to stay here until the storm passes.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I need to get home and start making dinner for my family,” Y/n turned to Mrs. Hartfelt.

Mrs. Hartfelt shook her head, “I can’t allow you to leave until it’s safe. Think of it this way, if you get sick then you won’t be able to care for your family.”

Alastor took Y/n’s hand in his, “It’ll be alright, my dear. Annalise is a smart girl, I’m sure she’ll be able to manage,” he smiled reassuringly.

Besides there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave this house right now.

“Alright, thank you so much for your hospitality,” Y/n gave in.

———————————————————————

“Here you go, dear,” Mrs. Hartfelt handed Y/n one of her nightgowns, “Hm, you’re a petite little thing, aren’t you? It might be too big.”

“It’s fine, thank you,” Y/n smiled.

“You’re welcome, Sweetheart! Follow me, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”

Y/n followed her up the stairs and down the hallway to the very last room on the right. Mrs. Hartfelt pulled a ring of keys from one of the pockets in her apron. She unlocked the door and opened it.

“Well, there you are, my dear. Now, Alastor’s room is right across from this one,” she pointed to door on the left side of the hall, “So, if you need anything, you can ask him. Also, the first door on the right is the bathroom, alright?”

So, Alastor will be sleeping right across from me? Hehe, I wonder how deep he sleeps?

“Thank you so much, Claudine! You’re very kind for letting me stay the night,” Y/n said.

“Of course! Now, I’ll leave you be. Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night.”

Y/n stepped into the room, turned on the lamp, and closed the door behind her. The room had a canopy bed, a dresser, a vanity, and floor length mirror. She took off her shoes and stepped out of her dress.

She carefully folded it and placed it on the dresser. Next came off her pink slip, her garters and stockings, and finally her brassiere. She stood there, staring at herself in the mirror.

The scar from the time her father cut her stomach with a knife ever present on her otherwise smooth skin. She fingered it and winced. Whenever she touched it, she swore she could still feel the cold blade slicing into her flesh. The pain still very much fresh in her mind.

“Will you still think I’m beautiful when you see this?”

She snapped out of whatever trance she was in and pulled the white long sleeved nightgown over her head. It reached down to her ankles, but it probably only reached to Mrs. Hartfelt’s calves. It was also slightly loose in the shoulders, but it would have to do.

Meanwhile, Alastor was washing the dishes in the kitchen while his mother came in.

He smiled, “Well, what do you think of her?”

“She’s a sweet girl. Pretty, good even temperament. I like her,” his mother replied.

“That’s wonderful! I knew you’d like her. She’s a peach, isn’t she? A real Southern Belle,” He exclaimed.

She laughed, “It’s also cute how you gush over her. Is she your girlfriend yet?”

“Not yet, I’m still in the midst of wooing her,” he half joked.

While it wasn’t exactly formal courting, he was waiting the perfect time to ask her to be his girlfriend.

“I don’t think you have to do much wooing, I see the way she looks at you and how you look at her. You too are quite smitten with each other.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, continuing to wash and dry the dishes.

“Oh, Honey, will do me a favor? Get my sleeping drops and put them in a cup of water for me. I have to go make sure the doors and windows are shut tight so the water doesn’t get in the house.”

“Sure,” he replied, putting the last of the dishes away.

“Thank you, love! And remember, only three drops. More than that and I won’t be able to get up early.”

“Three drops. Understood,” he smiled at her.

She ruffled his hair affectionately before going to do her task.

Alastor poured a glass of water and then got out his mother’s sleeping drops. He put the first two drops in before an intriguing idea popped into his head.

If I just put in a drop or two more, Mother might sleep more soundly. Then Y/n and I can…have a little fun.

He squeezed the next drop in. Before putting the fourth in, he wondered if this would actually be a good idea.

It’s not as if she’ll die or anything that serious.

In went another drop.

And then another one.

Five drops were now in his mother’s cup.

“That should do it. Sleep well, Momma,” he said to himself before putting the bottle up.

His mother came back into the kitchen, “Ah, thank you kindly, Darling!”

“You’re very welcome, Mother,” he grinned as he handed her the cup.

He kissed her cheek, “Good night.”

“Good night,” she replied before heading off to bed, taking a few swigs along the way.

———————————————————————

Alastor knocked on the guest bedroom door, “Are you still awake, babydoll?”

“Just a second, pretty boy,” replied Y/n.

Soon the door swung open, “I’ve been waiting for you, Sugar.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. But the good news is my mother should be out for the count right about now,” he lifted her up, carrying her bridal style to his room.

“Are you sure she won’t be waking up anytime soon?”

“Quite sure, I slipped her a few extra sleeping drops,” he chuckled.

“Ah, good ol’ sleeping drops,” she laughed.

He laid her down on his bed, a double bed with a nice wooden frame. He crawled on top of her, making sure to be the one to steal a kiss this time. She sighed contentedly as those familiar soft lips were back on hers. Wet kissing noises filled the room mixed with tender moans, lips moving in sync with one another.

“I didn’t…get to…tell you this before,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You’re really good at this.”

“Thanks, I’ve never done this with anyone before,” he bragged humbly.

“Really? Me neither.”

Alastor peppered little kisses along her jaw, before nibbling on her earlobe.

Y/n bite down on her lip, “Ooo…ah! That feels…amazing!”

He grinned, licking the shell of her ear.

“You know…I’m so glad you…came to my room. I was getting pretty lonely without you.”

“Really? How lonely, my dear?” He whispered in her ear.

“Well, before you came knocking, I was…oh I shouldn’t say it!” She turned away.

“Now you have to tell me,” he made her look at him, “or we can just go to bed?”

She knew from the sounds of it, that was an order, not a request.

“It’s so unladylike! But if I must tell you, I was…touching myself,” she said with the most innocent look in her eyes.

That should get him all riled up. Hehe.

She was what? Oh dear lord, this woman’s gonna be the death of me.

“Is that so? Hmm, you’re naughtier than I thought you were, Darling…I like that,” he licked his lips, “Do you often play with yourself?”

“Every night, since I met you. I find my hands wandering around my body. Touching, stroking, squeezing…I pretend they’re your hands and I cry out your name,” she got right into his ear, “Alastor!”

His eyes darkened with lust, “Well, then that’s something we have in common, our nightly routine.”

“You don’t think I’m a slut then?”

“No, no! Ma chérie, I could never think of you in such a degrading way. You’re not a slut, you’re my naughty girl,” he planted kisses on the crook of her neck.

“Oh, I like that. Call me that again please?” She smiled, blushing.

“What? My naughty girl? My naughty little girl who gets off to the thought of me,” he smirked, lightly sucking on her neck.

She giggled and moaned.

She started to finger one of the buttons on his shirt, “If you take this off, I’ll take off this nightgown.”

He gave her a sultry grin as he began unbuttoning his shirt, “You have yourself a deal, little lady.”

She watched him with eager anticipation, rubbing her thighs together.

As the final button came undone, her eyes lit up, “You’re gorgeous, Sugar. Absolutely gorgeous.”

His face flushed as he tossed his shirt to the floor.

He was gorgeous with his broad shoulders, perfect pecs, toned biceps, and six pack abs. He had a few light patches of hair on his chest and a sexy happy trail.

She placed her small hand on his chest and let it run down towards his lower stomach.

He gently took hold of it, pressing a few little kisses on her wrist, “Your turn, Baby. Though, I already know for a fact that every part of you is utterly enchanting.”

That’s no lie either, my dear. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

She blushed under his lustful gaze, slowly lifting the borrowed nightgown.

I hope I live up to your expectations. But this ugly scar…

Now it was his eyes lighting up, “You are ravishing, Darling.”

He kissed her stomach before she even got the item of clothing off, causing her shudder, heat pooling in her knickers.

Finally it was off, and he kissed his way up to her breasts. They were small and pretty.

“I know that they’re not big but I hope they still please you…” she shyly whispered.

“What on earth are you talking about, my dear!? Your bubs are perfect. They’re perky and pretty. They also fit nicely in my hands,” he gave them a few soft squeezes.

She moaned his name, “Oh Alastor…”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled into a passionate kiss. Their mouths practically devoured each other. Y/n suddenly felt Alastor’s tongue on her bottom lip, begging for entry. She obliged, slightly smiling as she parted her lips for him. Their tongues met, swirling around each other. He groaned softly as she began rub her clothed crotch against his.

His cock was already hard, but thanks to her gyrations, it somehow hardened even more. He wrapped her leg around his waist as he copied her motions. Together they found a rhythm.

Every time he grind against her, the head of his covered member stroked her clit.

“Th…that feels…amazing! Don’t stop, Sugar,” Y/n cried out, running her hands over his muscular back.

Alastor smirked at her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, “Don’t worry, I didn’t plan on stopping, babydoll.”

The skin on his back felt different than the rest of his body.

These feel like scars. They go all the way down his back. Is he…is he like me?

He started kissing her behind her ear, making his way down to her pretty little neck, sucking and nipping gently at it. She couldn’t stop sighing and gasping from the pleasure. Her sweet little voice was getting higher and higher.

It wasn’t long until she started to feel that familiar tingling sensation from head to toe. She shuddered as she came undone, her knickers soaked. Her face twisted in ecstasy.

“You look and sound so cute when you climax,” he praised, gently kissing her lips.

He could feel his release coming as well, “Seems as though I’m not far from mine…Fuck.”

She gasped, that was the first time she ever heard him curse. Y/n cupped his face with her little hands, “I want to see the face you make.”

Alastor chuckled, his breath heavy. He put his forehead to hers. His movements became sloppier as he was chasing his own high now.

Just a few more short thrusts and he came in his pants. His eyes nearly rolled back, face flushed and mouth agape.

They panted together, faces covered in sweat. She smiled up at him and he smiled down at her.

He’s so pretty.

She’s so pretty.

Alastor gave her a tender kiss on her forehead, brushing her hair out her face.

He got off of her and picked up the nightgown, “Arms up.”

She giggled and raised her arms. He pulled the nightgown over her head, helping her get dressed. He took a pause for a second as he looked down at her stomach.

How on earth did I miss that!?

“What happened here, Sweetheart?” He asked in a concerned tone, running his finger gently over the scar on her stomach.

“What happened to your back? I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

Taglist 🏷️: @chibistar45 @ghostofajinx @girl-math-aint-mathing @91062854-ka @harmfulb1tch @2dmenforme @ladyadrasteia666 @uniquecutie-puffs @vxllys @wendds @alastorsgirl48 @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty @boldlyenchantingfox22

[haunted-headset-alt]

Hoii :) i saw that you liked making luci x reader mini stories and i LOVE THEM. I just have a tiny petite itty bity request for a new story. Id love to see either a story about him gicing us aome after care after spoicy time or apologizing after an argument. Take as much time as needed. Thank youuu <3

jealousy, jealousy ⊹ ࣪𐙚꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱｡⋆

summary: you recently got a new job working for Voxtech, causing you to come home late nearly every day. Lucifer's a bit angry that you keep missing dinner, which sparks an argument (word count: 1.3k).

warnings: mentions of Valentino, arguing/yelling (obviously), crying, swearing, accusations of cheating, Lucifer's kind of a jackass in the beginning, mentions of death (reader talks about life when they were alive), generally gn!reader terms

a/n: hello!! this is a really cute idea so tysm for requesting it! i'm really sorry i haven't gotten to other stories, I've been so busy 😭

tags: (as always, just tagging a few people i think would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be on or off of the taglist!) @o-kye @zuuriell @strangleetomz@ax-y10 @stars-around-scars-collective@blu3-lemonad3@myheartticks@mochamuff1n@unbeleevable@danvstheworld @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @average-vibe @back-totheoldhouse @prettysinners @lovevxle

You recently got a new job at one of the largest companies in Hell, Voxtech, as Vox's secretary. When you got the job, you mainly wanted to do it because of the pay, thinking that you wouldn't have to do much as a secretary.

But boy, you were wrong.

You rarely sat down during work hours unless you were on lunch break, and even then Vox and other employees were asking you to come help, or Valentino was trying to persuade you to work for him for double the pay (you 'politely' declined every time). You were constantly printing and filing papers, answering calls to deal with angry customers or business meetings that Vox needed to attend, arranging those meetings and appointments, helping with report preparation for staff meetings (nobody really paid attention to them anyway unless Vox was threatening them to do so), managing databases, etc. You almost always worked overtime, which meant your nightly dinners with Lucifer seldom occurred; on the days you were off or didn't work overtime, you usually rested through half of it and didn't have the energy to eat or make dinner for the two of you.

Tonight was no different; you got home later than you usually did and were greeted by the sight of an angry Lucifer.

"Where were you?" he asked, his arms crossed. "Do you know how late it is?"

"Hi, honey," you said breathlessly, taking off your shoes and jacket. "I'm so sorry I got home late, Mr. Vox really needed me to finish up reports for the next staff meeting tomorrow and it was such a-"

"No, be honest," he interrupted. "Where were you?"

"In the...office," you said, raising a brow. "Where else would I have been?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Sure, sure."

"Lucifer, you know how he's making me work late," you sighed, dragging an aching hand down your face. "If I could come home earlier, I would, but Mr. Vox is a busy man."

"Busy with what?" Lucifer snapped, much to your surprise. "Adultery?"

"Honey, what are you talking-" you started.

"Don't 'honey' me," Lucifer laughed coldly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You think I'm cheating on you with my fucking boss?" you said. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Lucifer mocked your tone. "I have eyes. I can see. Do you not see how he shows you off on TV? How he preaches about you at company gatherings and dinners? You two are fawning over each other, it's clear as day."

"Oh, so my boss isn't allowed to think I'm a good worker?" you said sarcastically. "Great, I'll make a note of that, thanks."

"Stop that, Y/N," Lucifer exclaimed. "Don't act like nothing is going on. He can tell people that you're a good worker without bragging about you like you're a trophy. He doesn't deserve to do that when he makes you work your ass off every day until the crack of dawn. If you're even working," he muttered.

"Look," you retorted, dropping your bag on the ground, "I'm sorry that I work late nights and that I can't have dinner with you every day. But you could at least be happy that I have such a good job. You can appreciate that I'm doing well at work and my boss likes me. That's not fucking hard. And, yeah, I am working, thank you."

"If you're actually working so late, why does he put his arm around you in interviews, hm?" Lucifer crossed his arms and stepped closer to you. "Why does he think he can touch you?"

"Jesus Christ, Lucifer, people are allowed to like me!" you exclaimed. "He does that with every worker there!"

"Yeah, sure, he's having an affair with every worker there," Lucifer said furiously.

"You really think I'd cheat on you?" you hissed, hot tears bubbling up in your eyes. "You sit there an-and talk about how it's good that we trust each other, yet as soon as my new boss likes me suddenly I'm a slut."

"I never called you a slut, Y/N," Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic!" you shouted, your face warm and sticky with tear streaks. "You are treating me like I'm a slut! Look, I'm sorry you're jealous, okay? But I'm pretty sure people aren't suspecting that I could potentially be having an affair with Vox because of how you act in public around me! People are putting too much attention on me and you to even think that!"

"That's rich coming from a world-class attention seeker," Lucifer shouted, freezing as soon as the words came out of his mouth. His eyes widened when yours did, and he looked like he'd just spewed out bile.

"No, wait, Y/N-" he started when he saw you put your shoes on and grab your bag again.

"No," you snapped, "clearly I'm not wanted here, so I'll go."

"I never said I wanted you to leave, sweetheart, please-"

"Don't call me fucking 'sweetheart'," you growled, glaring at him through glassy eyes. "And I can tell you don't want to be around a world-class attention seeker, so I'll leave and spare you." You walked out and slammed the door before he could continue, the sound of rain drowning out the sound. You muttered a "great" under your breath before walking out of the house and onto the sidewalk to pull out your phone to call someone.

"Hi, Y/N!" Charlie's voice rang through the speaker. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need a ride," you tried to say calmly, but it came out strained and wobbly.

"Oh, I'm so so sorry, but I'm super busy right now and I can't drive over there," Charlie said apologetically, "but I could call Angel!"

"That works," you sniffled. "Thank you."

"Of course!" Charlie said sweetly. "Hope you feel better, Y/N!" The disconnect sound came through promptly after. You sighed and sat under an awning, shivering from your rain-soaked clothes. You slumped your head against a wall and cried softly, your eyes shut tight.

Around 15 minutes later, you felt warm, fluffy arms wrapping around you and Angel Dust's voice saying, "Hey, hey, you're okay, toots, let's get in the car and get you to the hotel." You took his hands and stumbled over to the car, slumping into the passenger seat.

"Trouble in paradise?" Angel asked, driving to the hotel. You nodded weakly. "You two will get over it. You're perfect for each other."

"I hope so," you sniffled.

The next day...

You heard a soft knocking at the door of the room you were sleeping in; it was Angel's room, but he'd gone to sleep in Husk's room so that you could have privacy.

"Come in," you said groggily, sitting up and finger-combing through your bedhead.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a nervous Charlie and an even more nervous Lucifer (although his cheeks were rosy from seeing you so sleepy). Charlie pushed him into the room, gave you a thumbs up, and closed the door, leaving the two of you in the room, swallowed by the silence.

He hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the blankets. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I was cold for a little bit, but I slept fine."

"Your clothes got wet from the rain, I'm guessing?" Lucifer said.

You nodded. "Charlie put them in the wash, bless her heart," you chuckled. He chuckled lightly with you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, taking your hands in his, "for everything I said. You didn't deserve a word of that. You're such a great worker and I'm so incredibly proud of you, sweet darling. You're not an attention seeker and I should've never even thought you would cheat on me."

"Thank you, Lucifer," you smiled. "I'm sorry for storming out on you without letting you apologize, that was unfair on my part."

"You had every reason to storm out on me," Lucifer said, squeezing your hands. "I'm surprised you didn't do anything else," he laughed.

"I wouldn't have the heart to do it," you returned with a laugh, his smile, that gorgeous smile, widening at the sound.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Please, love, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just ask."

"Cuddles?" you grinned.

"That works for me," he laughed.

[6esiree]

"𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞,” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝, "𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆."

Me: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! 🤺

Me: *Gets fucked instead.*

Oh, well, that works, too!

Radio Daddy

My entry for @6esiree contest! I hope you enjoy this little story!

18+ MDNI

This is my take on what the dynamic between Alastor and a Gen Z radio host would be like. A little bit of rivalry, a little bit of sexual tension, and a lot of attitude.

Word count: 2979

TW: Smut, P in V Intercourse, Oral (male receiving), Rough s3x, soul deals, swearing, Alastor is a bit mean, but reader likes it

"...and that is why Hell would be better off as a matriarchy", you spoke into your mic. It had been a long four hours of broadcasting, you were exhausted and definitely looking forward to dinner by this point. But you also loved the studio, the freedom of creating your own show and speaking your mind, and the power to sway the masses that listened.

"Don't forget- I will be DJing at the Hazbin Hotel Grand Re-Opening tomorrow night! It's sure to be lit so stop by and have a drink with me. Until next time, stay gucci my friends!"

You signed off and leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and taking a moment to relax. The tranquility didn't last long however, before you had a chance to take a breath you heard the telltale radio static of your boss- Alastor The Radio Demon. You sigh before opening your eyes and turning to the futon in the corner of your recording studio.

You arrived in hell 2.5 years ago after unfortunately overdosing when someone spiked your drink at a gig. When you learned that Hell only had one radio station you set out to create your own; everyone called you crazy, that the radio was the domain of the infamous Radio Demon. But at that time he had been missing for 5 years, his radio show nothing but static whispering memories of the past. So you brushed everyone off and made your own show anyways. It was an instant hit, your fan base expanded rapidly as sinners were eager to listen to a new voice in Hell's media scene. You had found your niche, your place in the despondent plane called Hell.

For two years you were the queen of radio, but you unfortunately sat atop a borrowed throne. Six months ago you were broadcasting like any other day when, after signing off, you had found yourself locked inside your own studio as the shadows of the room crawled over you. Alastor had offered you a choice- either you sign a soul contract with him and continue your show under his administration, or you cease broadcasting for the rest of your afterlife. You suppose you should count your lucky stars that he didn't just kill you, you were technically a rival after all and you had heard how he dealt with others who challenged him. His reason for letting you live was just one of the many mysteries of The Radio Demon.

Said demon now sat on your futon, back ramrod straight and legs neatly crossed and tucked underneath him. His fingers were interlaced in his lap as he smiled radiantly at you.

"Evening my little doll! Riveting performance as always! Although, I do have one note. You recall a discussion we had earlier about not using profane language while on air yes?", his smile tightened, his eyes hardening ever so slightly in annoyance.

You rest your chin in your palm and give him the most bored expression you could muster,"No one gives a shit if I swear Alastor. We are in Hell, or have you forgotten?"

Everyone else was scared shitless of this man, but he made your heart rate spike for an entirely different reason than he did for most others. Your boss was fucking HOT. You regularly pleasured yourself as you listened to his own radio show he revived upon his return, your thighs automatically clenched together at the sound of his voice. So, in retribution for him being so damn attractive, you behaved like the biggest brat. It was a victorious day if you could make his ears twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of his fluff that would be easily missed if you weren't looking so hard for it.

Your sassy remark earned you the little ear flick you were going for which made you smirk, your Overlord employer narrowing his eyes at you in warning. "I really wouldn't start with that smart mouth if I were you Darling. Need I remind you that I own your little show? Therefore, you will abide by my rules- no more profanity. This is the end of the discussion." His tone left no room for argument; as much as you liked pushing his buttons, you were not stupid and knew when to quit while you were ahead...or alive that is. You let the argument go with a scoff and a mumbled "Fine".

Alastor beamed back at you once again, his voice returning to its normal, chipper tone, "Splendid! Now on to business- I would like to hear what you have prepared for the hotel's ceremony tomorrow. This event means quite a lot to our dear Princess Morningstar and I will not let her down." You caught the underlying threat, really it was you who carried the burden of making sure you upheld his image. Your job was not just to entertain the hotel guests, but to make The Radio Demon look good as well.

Luckily for you, Charlie was huge fan of your show. She would regularly call in to talk to you about your chosen discussion topic of the day and put in song requests. Really you had known Charlie for longer than Alastor had, you knew exactly what she liked and were more than prepared to cater your services for her party. Your smile sweetened again as you logged into your playlist for the Grand Re-Opening Ceremony, "I was going for a persevering and uplifting kinda vibe, concentrating on songs that will give girl-power and fuck-the-system. Charlie is a Swiftie, so I made sure to add several of her greatest hits to the line-up like 'Shake it Off' and 'Look What You Made Me Do'." You turn your laptop around so your boss could look at the playlist you made, only to be met with him giving you a "are you dumb?" look.

"There is absolutely no way you will be bringing that ridiculous contraption into my hotel Darling", he pointed to your computer with revulsion written clearly on his face as if the laptop personally wronged him.

You bark a short, incredulous laugh, "Alastor, if I can't bring my equipment into the hotel then how exactly am I supposed to do my job?" You cross your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, waiting for him to explain his absurd rules that will only hinder your ability to make him proud.

"VoxTek cannot be trusted and is not allowed in the hotel- particularly by my very own employees! No no no no, I will provide you with everything you will need to provide top-notch entertainment to our esteemed guests", he snapped his fingers and a retro-looking record player and several record albums appeared beside your desk.

You became more and more exasperated as you rifled through the collection before you, "There isn't even anything from the last 50 years in here! As far as I'm aware, this isn't a "Roaring 20's"-themed party. If the goal is to make a good impression and get more sinners to stay at the hotel then we need to offer more than just old jazz tunes!"

The Radio Demon clutched at his chest in offense to your comment, "My Doll, no one partied harder than we did in the 20's. Jazz and speakeasies were truly the pinnacle of entertainment. I assure you that if you stick to my plan all will go just swimmingly." His voice hardened again at the end of his speech, warning you to just follow along. But you wouldn't, not when you knew you were right.

"And how many sinners from the NINETEEN-20's will be there exactly?!", your voice rose in volume with each word,"Face it, Alastor, most of the sinners there will be from more recent times. Therefore, we need to play music that ISN'T 100 years old!" You got up and started pacing your studio, completely oblivious to the growing radio static filtering off the man in red or how his antlers were starting to grow more tines. "Honestly, it's like you don't even try to connect to your audience anymore. I don't understand your complete aversion to modern technology, if you don't learn to adapt your are going to be left behind-", you stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, staring at the wall as the epiphany hit you like a ton of bricks. Your back was turned to the now irate Overlord, his claws dug into the leather of your futon to stop himself from launching at you. "That's why I'm here", you whispered, "You didn't kill me, you made me sign a soul deal so you could use me to bridge the gap between you and the younger audiences of hell. The younger generations find your show BORING."

You whip around with a triumphant smile on your face, ecstatic that you figured out the clever demon's ploy. Your face paled and the smile quickly disappeared when you took in the state of The Radio Demon. His normal crab-claw antlers now more closely resembled an elk's spread, the sclera of his eyes were jet black. The ever-present smile still adorned his face, but it now resembled a malicious grin akin to one you'd associate with The Joker. He rumbled out a low, dangerously dark chuckle that had the hair along your arms raising in goosebumps.

"Oh my Doll, you really should have learned when to quit running your mouth", he stood up and had you backed into the wall in three strides flat. "I should kill you for your insubordination, if you were anyone else you would be a mangled mess of blood and bone where you stand", his eyes bore down on you. Your heart hammered away in your chest as he lifted one hand to your face but you refused to flinch away from him, if this was how you died a second death then you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. Instead of dealing you a death blow, however, he gently dragged a claw from your temple to your chin. "Luckily for you, Princess Charlie would never forgive me if you were hurt by my hands. That... and I admit that I have grown quite fond of you myself. But-", his claw dug into the point where your chin and throat met just behind your jawbone, "-there must still be punishment. What kind of Overlord would I be if I let my possessions speak to me in such a disrespectful manner?"

You opened your mouth to plead your case but were quickly shot down, "Careful Doll. I enjoy you, but be careful. In fact, perhaps it is best if you do not speak at all", he chuckled again before summoning your soul chain in his hands. The bright, radioactive green glow of the chain blinded you momentarily and before you could process what was happening you were yanked to the other side of the room. When your eyes finally focused again you were on your knees with Alastor sat on the edge of the futon in front of you.

"Now Darling, how about you show me if that smart mouth of yours is good for something other than backtalk?", he pulled the chain again and your face came just inches from his crotch. You looked up at him with wide eyes, was he really asking you to do what you thought he was asking you to do? The way his eyes narrowed and his grin widened told you that yes- he wanted you to do exactly what you were thinking.

Well, you know what they say- what The Radio Demon wants, the Radio Demon gets. With a newfound determination you steeled your resolve and ran your fingers up his thighs to his belt. Without ever breaking eye contact with him you slowly unbuckled and removed the belt before opening his trousers. His cock was only half-hard under his briefs, running a finger up the length of it made it twitch deliciously and you smirked again before you freed his length from its fabric prison.

Even at only half-mast he was of impressive length and girth, no doubt you would struggle to take all of him once he was fully hard. Your mouth watered at the thought, you glanced back up at his face and noticed how his jaw was clenched in anticipation, eyes half-lidded at he stared at your mouth.

His expression was all the confirmation you needed before you leaned forward and licked up the length of his shaft from tip to base, nose brushing against the red curls of his pubic bone. Alastor gasped sharply above you, one hand wringing your hair around it as the other hand held your leash taut.

You teased his lower head with your tongue, swirling around it tantalizingly slowly. Gently parting your lips, you take just the mushroomed part into your mouth and give a gentle suck before teasing with your tongue again. You repeat this process a few times until his cock stands at full attention. After the third suck, he lets out a growl uses his hand in your hair to force you down further on his cock, clearly tired of the teasing. A small gag escaped your throat before you forced it to relax to accommodate the sudden intrusion. With a moan you slowly pushed forward until you felt him bottom out at the back of your throat.

"That's it Doll, such a good girl", Alastor gritted out through his teeth, holding your head there for a moment. You slowly started to bob your head, lips wrapped tightly around his shaft giving a popping sound every time they passed his engorged tip. Your tongue ran along the vein on the underside of his length, the skin velvety and warm.

After several long, slow passes, the deer demon gripped your head again to still your bobbing movements with your nose buried in his curls. Without a warning, he harshly pulled back and thrusted forward again, burying himself as deep down your esophagus as he could go. You sputtered, gagging sharply and tears instantly forming in your eyes. Your hands came up to push against his thighs but the chain on your neck quickly pulled tight again to keep you from moving a centimeter off his cock.

"Nuh-uh-uh Dear, it's time you learn your lesson for talking back to your master", he pulled back again just to thrust back into your mouth with brutal force. True to his word, he set a punishing pace. You struggled to breath between his continuous assault on your throat and the saliva that pooled in your mouth, dripping down your chin in thick spouts. Tears clouded your vision, all you could do was sit there and take his punishment and try not to pass out from lack of air. Every breath you managed to take came in through a gasp and left through a gag.

"My, my Doll. What pretty noises you make, so much better than the sassy remarks you usually give me. Perhaps you deserve a reward for taking your punishment without complaint."

You were suddenly pushed back off his cock, your lungs taking full advantage of the reprieve by gulping in as much air as they could. Clawed hands gripped your elbows as strong arms picked you up from the floor, your knees hit the futon cushion as your forearms landed on the back of the frame. A sudden breeze alerted you that your skirt was hiked up over your hips and your heard fabric ripping as your panties were torn from your core.

Alastor held your hips in a bruising grip and he thrusted into you, filling you to the hilt in the first go. A strangled moan left your raw throat, hands clenching onto the back of the couch. You were given minimal time to get used to the full feeling before Alastor resumed his brutal pace from before.

"I'll tell you what my dear, I'll make you a deal. I will provide you with a more modern record player and the vinyls for all those songs you wanted to play tomorrow as I still will not allow VoxTek technology in the hotel," you were honestly only partially listening as his tip was hitting your g-spot with every word. "In exchange, your body is mine to use as I see fit. Does that sound fair Doll?"

A lewd moan escaped you as he continued to drag his length through your walls, "Fuck Alastor-"

He stopped his movements just as you were reaching your peak making you whine in displeasure "I asked you a question- do we have a deal? You will not cum until you've answered me."

"Yes, Alastor! It's a deal. Please, please, please make me cum!", you cried out, you were so desperate for release you would have agreed to anything he asked.

"Hmm, I quite like you begging Doll. I quite like punishing you as well- I do hope you continue to behave like a brat, just to give me an excuse", he resumed his pace and before you knew it you were pushed over the edge, clenching hard around him. Alastor's own release soon followed as he spilled into you with a groan.

You knelt there on the futon, catching your breath as he pulled out and redressed himself. Once he was neatly tucked away again he walked around the couch to your face. His index finger lifted your chin so you were looking up at him, "I will see you tomorrow my doll, do not be late."

With that he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you reeling from what just happened. After a few minutes of processing the unexpected turn of events the smirk returned to your face.

"I wonder what would happened if I was just 5 minutes late?"

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 20! We're ignoring that this is being posted a month later. I am working through the prompts, I swear, and I will get them all out! There's just been a lot of stuff going on in my life. I got promoted to a leadership position at my job for example! :D

Anyway here's day 20, Restraints with our boy Al!

Warnings/Tags: Possessive Alastor, Jealous Alastor, Restraints, blood drinking, biting, marking, creampie. Word Count: 2,002

(Tell me if there's any tags that need adding!)

Alastor watches you from across the room, his hand tightening around the glass of whiskey he was holding. His smile strains at the edges, revealing his discontent as you talk and laugh with a new patron. Husk stood by, idly cleaning a glass.

“You know, Boss.” Husk says, his voice almost thoughtful, “You could just tell them how you feel.”

Alastor laughs at that, glancing away from you long enough to send a scathing glare Husk’s way. “I don’t know what you are implying, Husker.”

There’s a warning in his voice, one that Husk knows all too well. But the bartender just shrugs, refiling Alastor’s glass before going back to cleaning the bar. Alastor lets out a small huff of air, his annoyance and anger spiking. Why should he let Husk know that you’re spoken for? That he's the one to have claimed your heart? He turns back to you, only to see the sinner you’re talking to lean closer. Their hand rests on your shoulder, tightening there. Alastor was certain he saw red, his jealousy spiking. Downing the rest of his liquor, he slinks into the shadows. Husk watches, amused. He knew about you both because he was observant, but it was fun to fuck with Alastor.

Your smile strains as you try to make polite conversation with the sinner in front of you. Their advances didn’t go unnoticed and your attempts to reject them gently were moot. They were simply not the type to take ‘no’ for an answer. When they lean in to whisper in your ear, their mouth brushing against the shell of your ear, you nearly shrink back. You would have taken a step back if their hand wasn’t tightening on your shoulder in an almost painful way. A rush of energy passes beneath your feet before Alastor emerges from the shadows, about a foot away from you both. Relief floods you at Alastor's arrival. The sinner immediately drops their hand from your shoulder, their expression betraying their annoyance at being interrupted.

“My dear,” Alastor’s voice is clipped as he takes a step closer to you. “May I have a word with you?”

“Certainly, Alastor!” You reply, taking a step towards him, anything to create distance between you and the sinner.

“Lovely!” His voice is filled with mock joy.

You meet his gaze and see two emotions you hadn’t expected to see: anger and jealousy. You swallow nervously, taking a step around Alastor. His volatile mood generally meant you'd be ending up in his bed, not that you minded, that is.

Alastor turns his glare towards the sinner one last time, feeling a smug satisfaction at the fear in their eyes. He follows closely after you, barely a breath behind, as he ushers you out of the lobby. As soon as you both turn the corner, he rests his hand on your shoulder, dragging you with him as he slinks into the shadows. You gasp, the sensation of your physical body falling away, foreign. You stumble back into form a moment later, catching yourself from falling completely on a bed. His bed, you realise. You take a few deep breaths, calming your beating heart as you turn around to face a seething Radio Demon.

“Alastor-” His mouth is on yours in an instant, silencing anything you had hoped to say.

He pushes you down onto the bed, the room darkening with shadows, extinguishing most of the lights in the room. His anger and jealousy bleed away into desire effortlessly. His claws glide up your sides, pulling your shirt up. He breaks the kiss only to slip it over your head. He palms your breasts through your bra, pinching and rolling a nipple between his fingers. You moan softly, arching into his touch. You shift back as he climbs onto the bed, following you until your back hits the headboard. His shadows shoot forward, wrapping around your wrists as you reach for him. You whine as your hands are forced above your head. The shadows twirl around your wrists, forming solid links that keep them bound. Alastor trails kisses down your neck, nipping at your skin as he slides lower and lower. He wraps his hands around your hips, yanking you forward, your back pressing against the mattress. His fingers hook in the waistband of your pants, pulling them down as he presses kisses, almost reverently, down your body. His lips trail down your neck and chest, between the valley of your breasts, and down to your navel. Your breath hitches as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, his mouth hovering over your core. He pulls them down your legs excruciatingly slowly, sitting back on his haunches. He looks down at you, his gaze intense, making you want to melt into the mattress below you.

“Alastor..” You whisper, “Is this talking?”

He leans forward, his claws slicing through your bra with practised ease, pulling a gasp from you.

His mouth brushes against your ear, his erection pressing against your core. “You could call it that.” His voice is husky, almost sultry.

You can’t help but ask, “Jealous much, my love?”

His eyes flash with that same jealousy and anger you had spotted earlier. “What do you think, my dear?”

You wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him. “I think I’m grateful you showed up when you did. They simply weren't getting the hint that I wasn’t interested.”

He hums, his anger palpable as he slides his hands down your legs, curling his fingers beneath your knees. Alastor shifts forward, pressing your legs against your chest while spreading them. More shadows wrap around your legs, growing taught to keep you in place. You were bound and helpless for him. He shifts back, reaching for the clasps of his pants to free his cock. He strokes his length, his eyes dark with arousal as he takes you in. 

“Well perhaps I should make it abundantly clear that you are spoken for.” He says cooly, shifting forward to swipe the head of his cock through your slick entrance, nudging your clit.

You bite back a moan at the contact, your walls fluttering in anticipation. He repeats the motion a few times, your anticipation growing with every teasing touch. He positions his cock at your entrance, rocking his hips forward.

“So wet for me already.” He sounds almost amused as he presses the head of his cock into you.

“Alastor!” You whine loudly as he begins to sink into you, his cock stretching you open.

“That’s it, my little doe.” He coaxes, “I want you to be loud. Let everyone in this establishment know who owns you.”

You blush furiously at the thought of everyone hearing you, but as he sinks into you further, you realise you don’t care. Just as long as he was inside you and he was fucking you, you couldn’t care less who heard you. He chuckles, watching the compliancy flood through you. He sinks the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. Your walls flutter around his cock, a moan escaping you both as he bottoms out. Alastor rests against you, burying his face against your neck. His lips press against your skin as he grinds into you. Every roll of his hips is punctuated by a kiss, nip, or a hickey being sucked into your neck. He withdraws his cock further, almost slipping from your entrance before he sinks back into you with a harsh thrust. His change of pace makes you cry out in pleasure, your arms straining against the shadows.

“Fuck! Alastor…” You moan, whimpering when he repeats his movement, thrusting into you harshly again. And again.

With each thrust he picks up his momentum until he’s pounding into you. His groans fill the air, mixing into a cacophony with your moans and the creaking of his bed as it strains underneath you both. Each stroke brushes against your g-spot before sinking deeper and kissing against your cervix. Your pleasure was steadily climbing higher and higher. The coil in your gut taught with tension, bound to snap at any moment.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cry out, so close to that edge, but unable to go over just yet.

Alastor chuckles, brushing another kiss against your neck. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers honing in on your clit with precision.

He rubs tight circles into the nub, his mouth brushing against your ear. “Cum for me, little one.”

The tension in your stomach snaps, sending you off that edge. You moan out his name loudly, your legs shaking against the hold of his shadows. He fucks you through your release, his pace never faltering for one moment.

A few thrusts later, Alastor's pace falters, a low groan escaping his lips. He slams into you deeply, his cock twitching as his mouth finds the conjunction of your neck and shoulder. His teeth sink into your flesh. You cry out, a mixture of a yelp and a moan, as he paints your walls white with his seed. He stills, seated right against your cervix as he slowly pulls his mouth from your neck. Blood spills from where his teeth punctured your skin. He runs his tongue over the wound, lapping up your blood eagerly. You shudder at the feeling, a small whimper leaving you as he soothes the wound.

His cock softens, slipping from your cunt. Begrudgingly, Alastor withdraws from you fully, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes trail over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks, the rise and fall of your chest, the hickeys decorating your neck, alongside his mark bleeding slowly. His eyes slide lower, taking in the way you're bound for him, the way his cum leaks from your used cunt. You almost feel like he's admiring his work, and when he swipes his fingers up your labia to push his leaking seed back into you, you're sure of it.

“Alastor.” You say his name softly, slightly amused as you watch him.

“Hmm?” He responds, more focused on fingering you than what you were saying.

You squeeze your muscles around his fingers, moaning softly. “Don't you think you've made your claim?”

He pulls his fingers from your heat, meeting your eyes. “Hm, well I suppose. You are covered with my marks and my scent.”

He brings his fingers to your lips and obediently you take his fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his digits, a soft moan escaping you at the taste of you both. He pulls his fingers away, satisfied, before snapping to banish the shadows keeping you bound. Exhaustion floods through you, your body falling limply to his bed. With another snap you find yourself cleaned up, dressed in pyjamas, with your wound bandaged.

Alastor lays beside you, drawing you into his arms. “After tonight everyone will know you're mine.” He sounds so pleased, so proud of himself.

It makes you laugh softly, resting your head against his chest. You listen to his heartbeat for a moment, finding comfort in being in his arms.

You break the silence, “Husk can't make anymore comments about me now.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “oh no, whatever will I do without Husker’s input?”

You snort, placing a kiss against his chest. “You're a dick. But I love you anyway.”

His gaze softens as he looks down at you, all feelings of anger and jealousy completely forgotten. With you in his arms, murmuring words of love, Alastor knows without a doubt that you're his. He places a kiss against the top of your head, drawing blankets over the both of you as he holds you.

“I love you too, my doe. Now get some rest. I'll see you in a bit, hm?” His voice is soft, loving.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to fall asleep in his arms. You might have been in Hell, but being in Alastor's arms was your form of Heaven.

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Hiiii, how's it going??? A few days ago this idea crossed my mind. A reader who is afraid of loud noises (phonophobia) x Alastor. Definitely something comfort. I was curious how he would react. Feel free to ignore this if you are not interested, I know you have tons of requests. ♥️🖤

Yep! I apologize for the long wait! I’ve been so busy! (I am VERY rusty. I havnt wrote since like July 😭)

Alastor x sinner reader with Phonophibia (platonic)

“Too Loud”

It was late afternoon at the hotel and you were sitting at the small bar in the hotel, drinking some of the alcohol left out, trying to drown out the noise of the others. It was..Choatic. Nifty was being nifty, Angel was being loud as usual, Charlie seemed more loud and happier than usual, Husk was getting pissed like usual, pentious was boasting just as loud, and Vaggie was getting ticked off by Angel and Alastor….Probably the only calm one right now

You hated it. You left your home to escape the loud chaotic and overwhelming mess and came to the hotel thinking you’d be safe. Turns out they can be just as crazy. From Charlie always getting into your personal space (which you don’t have the heart to tell her no), to Pentious getting distristful and defensive when you get too close to him or his machines. You just wanted peace. Peace was always on your mind..But then again when did you ever get it? Never. Its hell, nothings peaceful

You could have sworn your head was beating by the chatter, your heart rate increasing, it felt like it would jump out of your chest. It was too much, too loud, too noisy, too much chaos. You could here the light ringing in your ears, the small foggyness in your sight..

While you were in your own little episode, you weren’t aware of the figure approaching you. “Now whats with the frown dear? Don’t you think a smile will make you look more approachable~?”. A familiar radio voice rung out.

You jumped a little in surprise at his usual confident tone and turn to look at him, caught by surprise at his sudden appearance as you calmed down. “Hey Alastor..” You say a little tired, not going unnoticed by the radia demon.

“What’s seems to be the issue dear?”.He asked, looking over at you. He was still pretty intimidating for you, this was the radio demon after all…

“Nothing its just….loud in here” You say and look down at the almost empty glass bottle.

“Loud you say? Well you certiantly arent wrong my dear! At the Hazbin Hotel theres never a sleeping moment!’ He said with confidence as he leaned against the counter,holding his radio staff (right??) in his hands with his usual smile.

“That’s what im worried about…” You say with a tired expression and look back down.

Alasotor looked over at you, keeping his smile but a small ounce of concern, why was he concerned? He’s not use to this, he shouldn’t be concerned for another lowly sinner should he? Maybe its the fact that your one of the few demons that annoy him, maybe its the fact you aren’t loud or sexual, maybe its the fact you respect his personal space. Whatever it was, he liked you, well at least he disliked you less than the others.

“Well then my dear, don’t be afraid to come knocking on my door if it’s too much, my room is the furthest from everyone and I sure would like the company when I’m eating” He reassured with a smile.

You smile back, even if your a little suspicious of why he’s doing this, but having some peace and quiet for the firstime in…how long now? It doesn’t matter right now. “Thanks Alastor…you don’t know how much I appreciate that”. You weren’t sure how this would go…But anything was better than staying in a noisy hotel.

(Sorry I’m so rusty 😭😭😭)

[6esiree]

“𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭,” 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐬. “𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭. 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥."

Oh, you don’t have to ask me twice!

Cum Sluts vs Zombies - Alastor x f!reader

Well, @6esiree, I wrote you a goddamn novelette. At a whopping 10.3k words, I present you with pure, unadulterated Alastor smut.

Other tags: @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard @babyfoxflower

Warnings: None, really. Oral (f receiving), scenting, p in v intercourse, rut smut.

At four in the morning, it would be obscene even by your own standards to keep playing video games. You turn off the television in your bedroom and take off your headset, feeling the little bit of perspiration in your hair from the foam. You shake it out and stand up, nudge a few energy drink cans out of the way. Your joints creak. Your eyes burn just a little bit. But goddamn if Cum Sluts vs Zombies wasn’t a helluva time.

You shake yourself off, get a glass of water, get ready for bed. You had just gotten done brushing your teeth when you heard it.

The sound of absolute chaos—glass breaking, furniture hitting the walls, thumps, thuds, more shattering glass—and then silence again. The hotel went back to its usual late night quiet.

You stand there for a moment, still holding your toothbrush, just staring at the wall you shared with your neighbour.

The Radio Demon.

Never, in all your months of living side-by-side, have you detected a single peep out of him. Not even once, let alone the (albeit quick) cacophony you had just heard.

“Huh.”

You proceed with your nighttime routine, all the little serums and creams that keep your skin looking bright and soft all the time, and then another sound.

It was a deep, resonating moan; you drop a jar of cream onto the vanity. Something weird, fucked up, and potentially dangerous was going on, but that moan, that almost pained sound…

Goddamn it.

With a sigh, you make sure you look decent-ish and walk the short distance to Alastor’s door.

Your knuckles rap upon the wood. Twice. Silence. “Alastor?”

No response. You lean closer and knock again. “Alastor? Are you all right?”

Again, no answer. You frown, but It's probably nothing. It's probably just one of the weird voodoo things that he does. You tell yourself it's probably just that and turn to head back to your room.

But that moan, it was just so…

You sigh and knock one more time. “Alastor I’m going to feel really guilty if I leave and you turn out to be dead.”

You hear a soft click. That’s it. That’s the only acknowledgment you get. No answer. No verbal response. But the knob does turn.

You take that as a sign that you’re allowed to go inside.

You walk into the bedroom slowly, looking more to the floor than anything else, knowing there’s shattered glass everywhere. It litters the floor, glistening like little diamonds in the light coming in from the hallway—but the door suddenly slams shut.

You jump about a mile, and then a hand is around your waist. One very familiar hand. It slips down to your ass and he lowers his face against the back of your neck. You can feel his lips brush against your skin.

“So you decided to see if I was still in one piece, hmm?” His voice is a low, deep rumble against your skin. The sensation gives you chills.

“I sort of had to,” you say, utterly still.

“Oh, you had to?” His tone is mocking and the hand on your ass gives a squeeze. “Couldn’t bring yourself to just go back to your little room and keep gaming until the morning hours?”

“It’s past four, even I won’t game later than that. No, I put away my controller for the night, got ready for bed, and then I heard you break everything in your room. But that’s beside the point. Why is your hand on my ass, pal?” You ask.

“Hm, is that so?” He sounds skeptical. “I was expecting you to stay up all night. And why am I touching you?” He pauses, his hand squeezing again. “I want to, isn’t that reason enough? You’ve spent too much time running away from me lately. I don’t like it. Come here.”

You dance away from him, carefully avoiding debris all around you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, there you go, avoiding me again.” He doesn’t try to come to you, though, he remains standing beside the door, watching you very closely.

You notice something weird. You notice several things that are weird. He looks…out of breath. Sweat glimmers against his skin, his normally coiffed hair is mussed, his eyes are heavy-lidded and his breaths sound raspy.

“I’m going to ask you something very straightforwardly,” you say.

He cocks his eyebrow and leans against the door. “Go on, then.” His tone is casual, but his body language is…peculiar.

His jaw cracks, a tension he never shows; you’ve never seen a smaller smile on his face.

You gesture to him, to the shattered glass and broken furniture strewn all across the dimly-lit room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He actually falters a little at your tone, his eyes go wide, then narrow at the accusation. “Why is something wrong?”

His voice is still calm, too calm for…whatever this was.

“Okay then,” you say, clapping your palms together. “You’re alive. You’re weirder than usual and you’ve broken all the things, but I’ve satisfied the need to know you are, in fact, as alive as you were since the last time I saw you. Goodnight.”

“Don’t.” His voice is short, sharp, and has a clipped edge to it that you’ve never heard from him before. (Not that you ever much listened.) “Don’t you dare leave.”

You take a deep breath and shift your weight to your other leg. “Do you need me for some reason? What is it?”

Alastor is silent a long moment, his eyes boring into you. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, hoarse. “Lock the door.”

“That is the opposite of what I’d like to do,” you quip.

“Damn it, just do it, all right?” His voice is almost a shout. The tension is back, his clawed hands are clenched into fists, his breathing is ragged.

Oh, this just wasn’t right at all. You were not enjoying yourself the tiniest bit, not as radio static became louder and louder in the room…

You find your resolve anyway. “Alastor, you’re the one leaning against the door. If you want it locked, you lock it.”

There’s another long moment of silence.

You watch him straighten up, his fist clenched around the knob behind him. He takes a deep, shaky breath. “You’re sure you want to test my patience right now, little girl?”

His voice is soft, low, and dark. The radio pops fall silent. Everything…everything becomes silent.

“Oh.” You take a deep breath, heart picking up the pace. “You just want me to get close to you again.”

“Ah, there you go. So clever, my dear.” He takes a step forward, the movement slow and careful, strangely almost as though he’s afraid he’ll stumble if he moves too suddenly. He stops a few feet from you, just looks down at you for what feels like an eternity. Then his eyes narrow again.

“Take that jacket off.” His voice is still quiet, still hoarse, but there’s an underlying current of need that pulls the air from your lungs.

You stand there in silence for a time before shaking your head. “Nope!”

“Oh, so you’re going to be stubborn, then?” He crosses his arms, looking down at you with one eyebrow cocked, then he growls. “Either take it off or I’ll take it off for you. Don’t push me in this state, darling, I’m already at my limits.”

“At the limits of what, Alastor? What’s happening to you? Why did you break everything? Why are you all messed up? And why is it so fucking hot in here?” You throw your hands up with abandon. “Answer me.”

There’s another long stretch of silence.

His breathing is ragged and the sound is loud in the quiet room. His knuckles are strained from how hard his hands are clenched into fists now.

He closes his eyes, his head tilting back, and the sound he makes is soft, almost too quiet.

A soft groan, just low enough that you almost miss it.

…That little groan leaves you breathless, catches you in the chest, and you just look at him.

His eyes snap open, but this time they’re…different. His pupils are blown wide, and there is a desperate, hungry look to them that you’ve…definitely never seen before.

He takes a step forward, lunges at you, his hands grabbing your wrists and grasping them to his chest.

“Goddamn it, please…” His voice is soft, hoarse, and full of need.

You’re trembling, but not altogether from a place of the fear you’re meant to be feeling. “Please what?”

His eyes are still wild, desperate, and his breaths are coming in ragged gasps now. “Please, just let me touch you, darling.”

He moves closer, his hand tightening around your wrists.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of his breathing. After a few moments, you swallow and nod.

You nod, and he groans.

His hands leave your wrists, then move down your body to your hips. He pulls you against him, his hips grinding hard, insistently against you, his nose buried in the curve of your neck, and he breathes in deeply.

“Damn, you smell amazing…” He murmurs against your skin. His hands move lower, gripping your ass again, pulling you even closer.

His teeth suddenly close on the side of your throat. You’re not sure if the sound you make is due to pleasure or pain, or maybe a little bit of both, but it seems to drive him wild.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your skin. He’d never talked to you like that before. Hell, it’s possible he’s never spoken to anyone like this before. You’d never seen him lose control this way. Or…really, do anything at all like this. Or anything that suggested that he could.

His hands move to the buttons on your shirt, his fingers fumbling clumsily with them.

“Oh, hey, hey!” You say, flailing your arms for some fucking reason. “Hey! Al!”

“What?” He draws back a little, his face flushed, his eyes wild. “What is it, darling?” His voice is rough, his expression is dark, and his body seems somehow more tense.

You swallow and breathe out roughly. “What’s, ah, you know. What the hell is happening?”

Alastor makes a sharp, dismissive sound. “I can’t concentrate when you smell like that, darling.” He moves closer, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, then groans again. His claws catch in the soft fabric spread over your belly.

“It’s like you’re teasing me, but I know you’re not, which just makes it worse…please, darling, just be patient with me for a little longer. And take your shirt off. Now.”

With shaking hands, you take off the jacket you’d thrown on before leaving your room, the one that Alastor had previously demanded that you remove. In the quiet of the room, you hear it fall onto broken glass, the little chips settling underneath it. Alastor’s muttering something that you can’t really focus on at the moment. He keeps moving, but his face remained pressed against your neck, breathing in heavily. He grows quite apparently frustrated with your lack of progress and pulls your shirt open, the buttons flying.

You feel him shiver just as you gasp.

He is utterly silent, but you can feel the way his body tenses at the sight of your bare skin.

He stops breathing. Just for a beat.

His hand is large, warm, and surprisingly gentle as it skims over your skin. His touch leaves a burning sensation in its wake. Being at his mercy like this…

His breathing is still ragged, but now yours matches his. His hands are shaking slightly; he doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to hold himself back anymore. He pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lets it fall to the floor. His hands skim up your sides, fingers trailing along your ribs slowly, his touch leaving burning lines across your skin.

What a time to remember you had not put on a bra. The room was still stiflingly hot, and Alastor’s skin felt even hotter.

He’s muttering again.

“What?” you ask.

“I said Goddamn, you’re beautiful.” His fingers trail over the curve of your hip, then lower to the little patch of skin just above the waistband of your pants.

He murmurs something that might be a curse, his body tense against yours.

“Do you have any idea how hard I have to focus to keep under control when I’m around you?” His voice is rough, full of need. You still can’t see his face. “You smell so damn good, your voice is like silk, you’re so damn beautiful, do you have any idea how tempting you are?”

All of this is new and overwhelming information. “Like, now, or in general?”

“Now specifically. Right now. I’m at my goddamn limits trying to control myself.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes a dark crimson. He looks at your exposed chest and lets out a ragged moan. “God, I need you, darling.”

You tilt your head. “So wait, this is you holding yourself back?”

“I suppose.” He leans his forehead against your shoulder again, his hands still trailing over your bare skin, one finger tracing over the shape of your nipple. “Right now you’re practically dripping with desire. I can smell it, and it’s torture for me to keep myself from just pushing you against the wall and taking you right now. You have no goddamn idea how hard I’m having to try not to do that, darling.”

“I would prefer something horizontal,” you say, and not entirely to lighten the steadily darkening mood of the conversation.

He groans, that goddamn sound, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to hurt, his body tense and shaking against yours.

“Damn you, saying things like that. You’re killing me, you know that, don’t you?”

He draws back, and you finally get a good look at him.

He looks even more wrecked up close.

His hair is mussed, his expression fierce and hungry, his eyes dark and wild. His skin is flushed, and his breathing is ragged.

“Come here,” he murmurs, one hand gripping your wrist and pulling you towards the bed.

You follow along, still trying to avoid the debris he was just pushing straight through. Nothing was stopping this guy, he was a force. He sits down on the edge of the bed—one that you swear was not there when you first came into the room—pulling you closer until you’re standing directly in front of him.

His hands move to the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them, looking up at you.

“I need you, right now.”

“Hey!” You still his hands and squeeze them hard enough to make him cock a brow at you. “I will absolutely not be entirely naked before you’ve so much as taken off your coat!”

His expression is stunned for all of an instant; he hadn’t expected you to be bold enough to do anything like this.

Then it changes to a smirk.

“Are you ordering me, darling?”

“No!” You shake your head. “No, but I am making a strong pronouncement.”

He chuckles, a low, dark sound in the near-silent bedroom.

“Strong pronouncement, is it?”

He slowly stands, letting go of your wrists, then shrugs out of his coat. He carefully folds it and sets it aside, looking all too amused.

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “Everything in here is broken and you fold your coat? Really? You’re so weird.”

“Oh, I’m weird,” he laughs. “And just how, exactly, am I ‘weird?’”

When you look up at him, you realise just how much he towers over you. At full height, you only reach his shoulders.

He lifts a hand, skims his fingertips over your cheek, down your jawline, then under your chin and lifts your face up to his.

His eyes are dark, full of want. “Is it because I think you’re beautiful?”

You shake your head. “Nope, that’s completely normal.”

He laughs again, his hand still beneath your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Is it the fact that I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life? That’s ‘weird,’ is it, darling?”

Unlike him, your fingers don’t fumble with the buttons of his shirt. He has every opportunity to try and stop you, but he doesn’t. If anything, he maybe shifted to make it easier for you—but you couldn’t tell. Your fingers never faltered, but it didn’t stop all the screaming going on in your skull.

He’s silent as he stands there and allows you to undress him. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, but he makes no move to stop you.

He’s tense, though, you’d have to be blind not to notice it. His hands are fisted in front of him, and he’s not as relaxed as he wants you to believe.

You pop the last button and his red shirt hangs open, revealing his bare chest. The scars stand out right away, but you just push the shirt off his shoulders and then something strikes you.

You’re both half-naked with nary a kiss taking place.

Now you’re dead set on remedying this absurdity, yanking him down to your level.

A shocked gasp escapes his lips and he leans into you, his large hands gripping your hips, his mouth crushing against yours. It’s rough, and eager, and hungry, and God it’s passionate.

His tongue slides against your lower lip, and he actually whines in the back of his throat in frustration when you don’t immediately let him inside your mouth.

He kisses you again, and this time you do let him inside. His tongue presses against yours, exploring your mouth as if he was desperate (well, it’s now quite clear how desperate he really is) and trying to consume you completely.

His hands grip you harder and he pulls you against him until your body is pressed flush against his. He growls against your lips, his breath ragged, his grip on you almost painful.

He pulls back from the kiss only long enough to mutter: “Bed. Now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You already stood at the edge of it, so you pushed him down onto it and crawled on top of him, kissing him again.

He groans, leaning his head back and allowing you to take control just this once, although his fingers dig into your hips like he wants to force you to be even closer.

His mouth slides to your jaw, kissing and biting at the skin there, his breath ragged and scalding against your skin.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect, darling.”

His hands release their grip on your hips, his fingers trailing feather-light over your exposed skin, then down so they’re gripping your thighs.

His mouth moves to your ear, his teeth closing on the lobe for a brief second before he murmurs, almost inaudibly “I want you, darling. I want to feel you. I want to touch you, to taste you, to devour you.”

He rolls you over so you’re lying on your back beneath him, his large body pinning you against the mattress, between him and the bed.

He looks down at you, dark eyes burning into yours, his ragged breaths coming faster and faster.

“I need you,” he repeats, leaning down to kiss your throat. “God, I need you so much, darling. Just the smell of you is driving me insane, even right now. I want you so goddamn badly.”

Your head is spinning. Sounds cliche, sure, but that’s the experience that you’re dealing with at the moment. His scent is affecting you heavily now that he’s on top of you and you can almost feel it all over you. You look up at him and something is slightly off. You look a little further up and gasp.

“Alastor, your antlers!”

He lifts his head and blinks, almost as if you had spoken a different tongue.

“What about them, darling?”

“They grew! They’re not little lobster claws anymore!”

He looks a little surprised, and confused, and then he reaches up, feeling one of the newly formed antlers with his fingers, as if disbelieving.

“Ah hell,” he mutters, then looks down at you again. “They only grow when I’m at my most—”

He stops himself with a sharp inhale. “Damn it, I knew I was close, I just didn’t realise how close.”

“What?” you ask. “What is the center of this goddamn mystery, Alastor? This is beginning to feel like a mystery box, like if David Lynch tried his hand at an erotic radio show set in 1930.”

He laughs, still sounding ragged, and a little strained. “It’s not a mystery, darling, although I do enjoy how curious and eager you are about this. They grow when I’m near my rut.”

“Let’s just say I understand fully what that is. You mean it whatever the hell this is hasn’t even fully hit yet?”

“No, not yet, but it’s damn close.” He looks down at you, and you can see the heat in his eyes, the look that’s almost pleading with you to help him find some sort of relief from this. “I’m going to get very desperate, very soon.”

You nod a few times. “Okay. I’ll get you through it.”

“It will be a hell of a ride, darling,” He looks down at you, his eyes dark. “Are you sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Not even a little bit,” you say with a smile, shaking your head.

He laughs again, but this time it’s a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “That’s all right, darling. I’ll do all the hard work, you just have to let loose and let me take care of you.”

You hold up a finger. “That’s doable—if.”

He cocks an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “If? What exactly are your conditions, darling?”

You look him dead in the eye. “I want to touch one of your fluffy, fluffy ears.”

A laugh bursts out of him, and he leans his head back. “That’s it? You’re willing to put up with my ruts for one touch of my ear?”

You wink at him. “They just look so fun to touch and I’ve always wanted to.”

He laughs again, then shakes his head, a smile on his face. “All right, darling, you can touch them as much as you like. Just remember that when you’re screaming my name later.”

“Are they sensitive? Will it hurt you?”

“They’re sensitive, yes, but I trust that you won’t hurt me.” He gives you a smirk. “Or is that what you want? You want to make me beg?”

You gently trace your fingertip from the base of his ear to the tippy-top. “This can make you beg?”

He shudders, his eyes fluttering open and closed, his hips grinding against yours. “God, yes.” His voice is raw, and ragged, and needy, and you’ve barely touched him.

“What about your antlers?”

“You want to touch those, too?” he asks, still shuddering.

You touch the base of his ear again. “Do I have your consent?”

“Yes, darling, you do, but—” He’s cut off by a moan as your fingers trace down the base of his ear, making his eyes flutter shut again.

“But?”

His eyes are half-lidded again, dark with need. “They’re sensitive in a very animalistic kind of way, darling, that’s the best description I can give.”

“Okay, now I have to,” you say, and very, very gently trace your fingertip along the new points that had grown.

Another shiver runs through his body, and he groans. Then, he looks down at you, and his eyes are blown wide. He looks absolutely feral.

“Darling, I love the way you touch me,” he murmurs. “But if you keep it up, I won’t have a damn bit of self-control when my rut fully hits.”

You chuckle softly. “Decisions, decisions.”

He growls, low and needy, and you realise that he’s just barely holding it in.

“Darling,” his voice is strained, and he takes deep, ragged breaths, “just remember, when we begin I will not hold back.”

He kisses you again, and his body is tense, his hands gripping your hips so hard it almost hurts.

“I’ll take good care of you, darling,” he murmurs between kisses. “But I’m going to be rough. I want to hear you moan my name, I want to hear you cry, I want to hear you beg. Do you understand?”

“Promise?” you ask, breath coming a bit more quickly.

He groans again, his hips grinding against yours. “God, you’re so goddamn perfect. You have no idea what it does to me when you speak to me like that. And yes, darling, I swear it, I’ll take good care of you.”

He kisses you again, and his hands move to your waist again, sliding down your stomach and lower than that, one hand pushing your legs apart.

Damn it, your pants were still on. “Hang on, Al, help me just…”

He pauses for a moment, then grabs the waistband of your pants and yanks them down past your hips, pulling them off your legs and throwing them somewhere into the room.

“That seems about right,” you say, then trace your finger along his ear again.

His eyes flutter shut, his breath still ragged. “You’re going to drive me insane, darling,” He murmurs, his hand sliding further up your thigh.

You wink at him as his fingers move higher and higher.

He chuckles dryly, his fingers skimming over your skin.

“So bold, darling." He kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. “So willing. Have you ever been touched like this before, darling?”

“Well…” Your breath hitches. “Not since I arrived in hell, for sure. It’s hard for me to remember before.”

“Hard to remember?” He laughs. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, his fingers sliding even further up your thigh. “Don’t worry, darling,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you remember.”

He kisses you again, hard and eager and needy, pushing your legs apart. He kisses your jaw, then your neck, then lower, until he’s between your legs.

He kisses your stomach, kisses your hipbone, and then looks up at you, dark eyes burning into yours, his voice soft and eager. “Are you ready, darling?”

“F-fuck yes,” you whisper.

He laughs, low and dark, his thumbs stroking your inner thighs. “Then I’m going to make you scream.”

He kisses your inner thighs, and God, it feels so good, but you can feel his antlers brushing against your skin every time he moves. It’s a completely different sensation of having something hard and sharp-tipped rubbing against you, and it’s incredible.

He kisses every inch of skin he can, but he takes his time, teasing you. His fingers grip your thighs like he doesn’t want you to pull away, but his mouth never goes any further than that until finally he looks up at you again, his eyes still dark.

“I’m going to taste you now, darling. Are you ready?”

Oh, God. This was really happening. It wasn’t a dream. You think over all the little moments that led you here, his body on top of yours. You touch one of his antlers and nod, biting your lip.

He kisses your stomach again, so close, his breath ragged and hot against your skin.

“I want you to say it,” he murmurs against your skin. “Say that you want me to taste you, darling.” His hands grip your thighs again. “Say it, darling. Just a few more words and I’ll give you what you want. I don’t want you to hold anything back, so just tell me what you want.”

Your cheeks heat up and you look up at the ceiling, arms coming up to cover your eyes. All he can hear is muttering.

He laughs and you feel his warm breath against your skin. “You’re not listening, darling. I said I want to hear you.”

Ah, fuck. He was really going to make you say words, huh? Okay, fine, fine.

“Al, I want you to eat my pussy.”

He laughs. “Now, was that so hard, darling?” You feel his breath against you, teasingly close. “Now we can begin.”

He kisses your inner thigh again, his hands still gripping your legs, holding you in place. “I’ve been waiting for this a very long time, darling,” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m going to enjoy every inch of you.”

You almost snap. “You what?”

Alastor laughs. “I’ve been wanting you like this for quite a while, darling.” He kisses your thighs again, still keeping his hands where they are, holding you down, keeping you in place for him.

“Just the sight of you drives me crazy, and you’re so damn perfect, but like this? Oh, you’re absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to devour you, darling.”

You pant there for a moment as he moves, hand trailing through his hair“Well, I’ll be damned.”

He chuckles, a sound so unfamiliar in its familiarity. “Such an impatient little thing you are,” He kisses up your inner thigh, his nose nuzzling against it. “I’m taking my time.”

Your thigh tenses pleasurably, but he doesn’t allow them to close even a centimetre. “Alastor…”

“Just relax, darling, let me take care of you.” He has you bend your knees and wraps his arm around your thigh, gripping tight, squeezing just to make you squirm.

It’s his fingers that touch you first, grazing through your slick with a bit of a dark chuckle against your thigh, the cocky son of a bi—

Alastor slides two blunted fingertips inside you and there’s no resistance whatsoever. His fingers curl just right, making you cry out. You gasp and cover your mouth though.

“Darling, don’t you dare try to hold those beautiful sounds back,” he growls against your skin, and you can feel his breath, hot against you. “I want to hear every single sound you make.”

You’re trying your hardest not to squirm and failing miserably. “But I don’t want to disturb anybody!”

He laughs, still against your skin. “Darling, I don’t think anybody is here to mind.”

He does something with his fingers, making you moan despite your best attempts not to. “Besides, I don’t mind if they hear you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The way he’s crooking his fingers so fucking casually, like it’s not got you shaking in his bed…

You freeze and then tremble when his tongue, hot and wet, perfectly complements that fucking crooking gesture. It’s like he has a roadmap of your fucking body and how to make you come in minutes flat.

And he takes damn good advantage of it. He’s clearly been paying attention to what you like, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony to make you writhe and gasp for him.

And it’s getting damn difficult to keep those sounds contained when he’s driving you mad like this.

“Make noise for me, darling,” he murmurs against your skin. “I promise, I don’t mind if someone hears you. Hell, I want them to hear you. I want everyone to hear how good you feel, how you moan for me.”

“Goddamn, Alastor, I can’t, I can’t—“

He laughs again, and goddamn, the vibrations against your skin makes you shiver. “Yes, you can, darling, you can do everything I want you to do.”

He pauses for a moment, then adds: “And I want you to say my name, darling, I want you to moan it.”

You groan, thighs trembling around his head. Points of his antlers constantly brush over your skin, your thighs, your belly, but never painfully. Each time it did, you could hear, feel him gasp and groan against your pussy. His lips circle your clit and he sucks gently.

You can hear his ragged breaths against you, his mouth working faster, more eager, his hands gripping tighter, but still staying in control, at least for now.

“Say my name, darling,” he murmurs between little flicks of his tongue. “Say my name and don’t hold back.”

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck, goddamn! Alastor, fuck!”

He laughs again, and it’s more of a dark purr this time.

“That’s it, darling, moan my name, that’s what I want to hear,” he growls against your skin, his teeth grazing your hipbone. “ Let everyone know whose name you moan, let them know who makes you feel this good.”

His mouth moves, kissing the inside of your thighs, his hands still keeping a tight grip on you, holding you steady for him. “Say it again, darling,” he murmurs. “Moan my name for me, and say you belong to me.”

You would say just about anything at all at the moment, but that, that stuck in your pleasure-addled brain, compounded by another come-hither movement on your g-spot. “Alastor…I belong to you.”

A low, dark sound escapes his mouth at that, and you realise that he’s struggling more than you thought. It’s clearly all he can do not to throw you down and fuck you like he knows you need him to.

“Again, darling,” he murmurs, lips fluttering against your clit. “Again. Tell me again, say that you’re mine.”

The sensations were new. You truly could not remember if you had done this in your previous life, but you were damn certain this is the best you’ve ever had. In this moment, you’ll do or say all the little nothings he wants to hear. “I’m yours, yours, I’m whatever the fuck you want!”

He groans again, and the sound vibrates against you, making you shiver.

“Again, darling. Say it again, keep saying it, I want to hear you say it. Keep saying that you belong to me."

There’s a need to his voice, an edge of desperation. He wants to hear it, needs to hear it, needs to know that you belong to him, and he will keep begging for you to prove it if he has to.

Your hips rise to meet his mouth. It’s all you can do not to grab ahold of both antlers and hang on for dear life. Both of you are lucky you still have any blood flow to your brain at all. Telling yourself that you’re compromising, you grab his hair again. “Yours, yours, all yours…”

You can hear his breath hitch, you can feel how he’s fighting to wait for the main course.

“Not good enough.” His voice is dark, desperate, hungry. “Say it again, darling, say it again, and say it correctly. I want to hear you say it. I want you to moan for me, and tell me that you’re mine."

You can feel his ragged breathing against you, and you can feel how strong his grip is on you, as if he thinks you’ll pull away.

You do your best to focus. You give it the old college try. Taking a deep breath, you grab him by the antler to make him look at you.

“Alastor, I will tell you exactly what you want to hear. Nod if you understand me so far.”

He blinks, but nods, his eyes still dark, still hungry, still watching you.

“You are wrist-deep in my pussy. Got me all over your face. You’re about to go into a rut. I belong to you. I’ll always be yours, and yours alone. Better?”

He looks stunned for a moment, and then he laughs, and the sound is a dark, low, hungry growl.

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dark and eager. “That is far better. Just what I wanted to hear. You’re learning, darling.”

You nod, satisfied and momentarily relieved, thinking this part as all behind you now. “I’m learning!”

“Yes, you are,” He murmurs. “I might have to reward you, darling, you’re so good at listening.”

You’re just about to ask him how when he drags a deep, long gasp out of you, his lips coming around your clit again, his fingers stroking you inside—

It was an all-out attack on your senses, but he wasn’t even trying to drag it out any longer. Maybe he was getting impatient too, or maybe you’d finally sung enough of his goddamn praises to appease him for a fucking moment—

Oh, the sounds he’s making are downright vulgar. The slurp of his lips, the squelch of his fingers, probably in any other context would be horrific, but just for now they translate to a tightness in your body that grows and grows and grows—

Until it snaps.

All that screaming he wanted crashed against the walls of the hotel room, and you could hear that smug, arrogant prick give a breathy laugh, could feel it even as his fingers kept working you. Your thighs try their damndest to close, but Alastor, having none of that, keeps them wrenched open. You’re grabbing onto both antlers but he is not letting up for one goddamn second.

You can feel him grin against you. He’s so damn proud of himself. But he’s not finished with you, not yet.

“So, just so we’re clear, you’re mine, all mine?”

Your body shakes all over. “Yes yes yes yes!”

He laughs, his laughter dark and eager.

“That sounded so good, darling. I want to hear you tell me that again. Will you say it for me?”

“I-I…Al…I…” Could the man not understand that words were impossible with his lips still brushing against your poor, overstimulated clit?

He laughs becomes deeper, darker, then he places an almost-mocking kiss to your bud. “That won’t do, darling. I want you to say those words for me. I want to hear you moan them, loud and clear, say that you’re mine.”

Problem was, in your current state that was almost literally impossible. “Ffffuck, I…”

Alastor hums amusedly. “That still isn’t good enough, but it’s a damn good start. Now, say it, darling, say that you’re mine. Say that you’ll always be mine.”

It takes everything, absolutely everything in you not to break. Was that his goal? Well, probably, yes, to some extent it had to be. Why was he making you say all these meaningless things? Torture, right?

“A-Alastor, whatever you want. I’m y-yours, I-I-I…fucking Jesus hellfire, I’ll be yours forever, I promise!”

He smirks against your skin. “That’s perfect, darling, just what I wanted to hear. You’re doing so good for me. Just say one more thing for me, before we continue, and then I’ll give you your reward.”

“What?” you sob.

“Good, good girl. I’m almost tempted to tease you and keep you begging for me, just to hear your voice, your beautiful voice, say all those perfect things. Almost tempted. But don’t worry, my darling, I’m not nearly that patient, and I want to hear you moan. Can you do that for me, darling? Can you scream for me?”

Your mind despairs of the unfairness of the situation. You shiver and twitch as he still won’t let up. “I fucking am, Alastor! What more do you want from me?? Please, Alastor, please…”

He laughs, and god the sound against your skin feels amazing. Too amazing. You were still doing all you could to appease him.

He pauses, finally halting all contact with your aching flesh. He takes the hand that was between your legs and licks your juices from his fingers.

It’s a sight that makes your heart pound and a shiver run through you. His dark eyes meet yours again, and his voice is a low, dark growl. “You taste heavenly, darling.”

Your laugh comes breathily. “Why thank you.”

Another dark chuckle. The hand he used to touch you is still wet, and he licks it again, deliberately making sure that you’re watching. “Truly delectable, darling.”

“Here,” you say, pulling him down. “Show me.”

He gives an amused huff, but lets you pull him down. His mouth captures yours, and this kiss is deep, hungry, and you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

He moans against you, a deep, dark, hungry sound, and you feel his hands moving to your hips again. He pulls you towards him, until you can feel how hard he is against you.

“Are you ready, darling?”

Your cheeks heat up again, as if this man hadn’t been mauling your pussy for the last half hour. You smile, but cover your eyes before you nod.

“Oh no no no, no hiding your eyes, darling,” He murmurs, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes.

He kisses you again, and when he finally moves, lifting you, you feel how damn strong he is, how he’s able to lift you like you weigh nothing.

“What am I to do?”

Alastor laughs, and the sound is dark and eager. “You’ll see. For now, just keep your eyes open for me. I want you to look in my eyes when I take you.”

“Okay,” you say, letting him put your head on the pillows, “I’ll stay put and keep my eyes peeled.”

He kisses you again, a slow, lingering kiss that ends with a bit of a bite, and you feel another growl against your lips.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, “a very good girl. I need you to stay just like that, darling. Just relax, and let me take care of you. Can you do that for me?”

You give him a soft, almost affectionate smirk and reach up to gently play with his ear. “I think I’m up for that, yeah.”

He growls again, and you can feel his hunger from it. “Damn you, darling, you shouldn’t sound so damn sexy when you say that, you’re only making this harder.”

Your eyes meet again. There’s a dark hunger in his eyes, a need. “You’re so damn beautiful. You are going to be so very mine. All mine. No one else will ever get to see you this way, or I’ll kill them. I want you to remember that, darling, remember that you’re mine. Never forget.”

You nod, smiling up at him, and give him a wink for good measure. “Sure, Al. I’ll remember.”

Alastor seems to accept your assurance, at least momentarily. He wrenches your legs apart again and slots himself comfortably between them.

When he nudges your legs apart again, you’re more than aware of how big he is. Even through his clothes, you can feel him, and that shiver runs through your entire body.

“That’s a good girl,” He murmurs, “I want you to say that again, darling. I want to hear you say it again. Say that you belong to me."

You smile up at him, affectionately rolling your eyes, whilst reaching between you to unbuckle his belt. Time for the natural progression of things. You can feel how taut his nerves have become and think it’s almost sweet, how he managed to put you ahead of himself for a while. That deserves sweet nothings.

“I know, big guy,” you say. “I know I belong to you.”

He laughs wickedly and there’s an edge of relief to the sound. Your words have clearly helped somehow, as if they’ve soothed him in some way.

His mouth meets yours, but this one is rougher, almost desperate. You feel his hands grip your thighs, hard enough to make you whimper again against his mouth.

“Al!” You protest when you part.

He laughs again, and this time the relief is more obvious, almost as if he’s been holding back so much that your words are allowing himself a little more freedom, a little more room to breathe.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough and eager, “I know I’m being too rough, I’m sorry darling, but I really want you. I’ve been holding back for so long, holding myself back. It’s getting damn hard to keep control, harder every second."

“Well, now’s the time for pants to come off and for things to commence,” you tell him.

Alastor lets out another huff and there’s a note of disbelief in it this time.

“God damn you, you’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

His mouth is rough again when it meets yours, rough and hungrier and desperate. His hands are on your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin, almost tight enough to bruise.

His tongue forces its way between your lips, and this kiss is rough, almost possessive.

Alastor’s trousers are finally kicked away and he’s between your legs again, rubbing through your slick as if to catch it—that’s a good thing, too, because it feels absolutely massive. You don’t want to make yourself seem like a (possibly) inexperienced little virgin so you don’t say anything, but you sure as hell feel it.

He leans over you, his mouth hovering over your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, “you feel perfect. So damn perfect. Say you’re mine. Tell me I’m the only one allowed to touch you, say it.”

There’s a note of hunger in his voice, a note of almost desperation. He knows that he’s lost control, that he’s barely holding himself together, but he doesn’t care.

You push his hair out of his eyes. The words come easily now, old hand. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

He moans again, the sound sending a shiver up your spine, and pulls away just a little, looking you in the eye.

“Thank you, darling,” He murmurs, his voice rough. “Thank you for saying that.”

Immediately after he spoke those words, you could feel the thick heat of him force its way into your tight cunt. It burns somewhat in the way that it stretches you, but you also know that the height of your arousal is making it easier for the both of you. You look up at Alastor and see a look of concentration paired with relief paired with animalistic hunger.

Oh, dear.

He moans again, and you can hear just how much effort it takes for him to keep control, to not buck his hips.

You get a good grip on his hair as he bottoms out in you. Doesn’t hurt a bit. You hear the whine trapped in the back of his throat and your knees squeeze ever-slightly around his hips.

He growls, the muscles in his neck taut, every muscle and tendon visible in his neck, and his hands dig into the sheets beside you, shredding them and perhaps the top of the mattress as well.

“You’re mine,” He repeats, his voice low and dark. “You have no idea of ownership yet, but you’ll learn. Your soul may not be mine, but that changes nothing. Nothing, do you understand me? Now say it, darling, say that you belong solely to me, say I’m the only one that gets to touch you like this. Say it.” His voice is getting rougher, more desperate, with the slightest bit of threat that made you tremble with pleasure. That’s okay, you’ll unpack that later.

For some reason, you touch his face, your hand cupping his cheek. You could swear he leaned into it, just a bit. “You’re the only one. You’re it.”

Alastor’s eyes slide almost closed, as if you’re comforting him, as if your touch is what he needs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, “that’s good, darling, that’s very good. Say it again, say that I’m the only one, say I'm the only one that gets to touch you like this, the only one that gets to make you feel like this, I'm the only one.”

Your eyes close and immediately his clawed hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes open.

Alastor slams in and out of you. “I warned you not to look away from me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you cry.

His thrusting is rough, hard, as if he’s trying to prove a point, as if he’s trying to force you to remember that he’s in control, that he’s the one that gets to decide, that he’s the one that gets to make you moan.

“That’s better, darling. I need you to look at me, I need to see those pretty eyes of yours, I need to know that you understand. Promise me you’ll make me stop if I hurt you. Can you do that, darling? Can you promise?”

His cautious words bring a smile to your face. “Promise.”

He growls again, and he looks so damn sexy doing it.

“Good, that’s good, darling. I don’t want to hurt you, I have to be careful. It’ll be difficult, because I’m so damn hungry for you, but I need you to promise me you’ll make me stop if I get too rough, I don’t want to hurt you, I want to take care of you."

“I’ll give your left antler a big tug if it starts to hurt,” you say.

“Good, good, very good. That’s a plan, my darling. Now just keep looking at me, no hiding those pretty eyes."

You stare up into his eyes, soft focus. It takes more effort than you thought that it would, especially with him pounding into you—but it wasn’t hurting. He seems to know you on a sexual level, somehow, seems to know what makes your toes curl. He pushes your thighs further apart with one of his knees so he could get deeper.

“That’s a good little darling, that’s good. Don’t look away, don’t dare look away, I want you to always look right at me. I need to see those pretty eyes of yours, I need to know you’re looking at me, I need to know that you understand. Understand?”

“Yes, yes Alastor, I understand—oh, Christ, what are you doing to me?”

He chuckles, a low rumble. “I want to make you scream, darling, that’s all I want. I need you to scream. You look so perfect right now, and I need to hear you scream for me."

You change your grip on him as he gets deeper and deeper, making you feel so full. Alastor moves faster and there’s something, some magical configuration of pace, force, and position, that starts dragging those screams right out of you.

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s perfect, perfect. Say my name, darling, go ahead and say it. Tell me what your body is feeling, tell me what I’m making you feel."

At this point you couldn’t give a fuck who heard. “Fuck, Alastor, you fuck me so good…”

Your walls flutter around his cock before clenching and it makes him grunt, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good, that’s good, say it again, louder this time, let me hear you," he growls, as if he’s desperate to hear the words, "make me believe it, darling."

It’s hard to breathe in the heat of the room, the heat of him. It’s even harder, somehow, to keep your eyes open. You’ve no idea why, but the urge to close your eyes and hang onto him consumes you. You don’t, however, not wanting to upset him, not when he looks so fucking good.

You’d known, had it whispered to you by Angel long ago, how the Radio Demon…eschewed any kind of intimacy, emotional or physical. Seeing him like this, huffing on top of you, his cock dragging deliciously against your g-spot (he really had a knack for finding it and abusing the hell out of that knowledge), this was absolutely priceless. Precious to you, even. His antlers grew more pointed and as tempted you were to touch them, you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. He was giving you pleasure, not pain.

He’s panting, and his eyes are dark and eager, his muscles taut, every muscles in his neck visible. He’s clearly holding back. He’s holding himself back, stopping himself from moving harder, or faster.

He’s waiting for your voice.

“Darling,” he almost growls, “say it. Say what I’m doing to you. Say it.”

You bite his lower lip experimentally, giving no verbal response (yet).

He groans, and his eyes slide almost closed.

“Fuck,” he swears. “Don’t tease me like that, darling, I’m trying to hold myself back. But then you keep making little noises and doing that stuff, and it’s making it hard, darling."

“You know, it’s really nice of you to try to keep things…you know, not painful for me. Can I ask why?” you ask.

His reply is somewhat impatient. “Because you’re my damn mate. Now tell me how I’m making you feel.”

That response makes you falter, but you try your best to talk anyway. “Alastor, you make me feel so full of you. You’re making it hard to think or even breathe.”

“Good,” he says, “that’s good, I want to make you feel like that, I want to take your breath away."

His hands grip your thighs, hard enough to probably leave bruises, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are dark and eager.

“Say more,” he snarls, “tell me more, tell me everything you feel, tell me everything you’re thinking, tell me all of it."

You rub the base of his ear. “How about you tell me, for once?”

He groans, and his eyes slide almost closed again.

“Goddamn it, darling,” he mutters, "you’re making this difficult. It’s hard enough trying to hold back already, but then you have to do all this little things, touching my ears, whispering in my ear, making me want to lose control.”

“Okay, fair enough, I won’t touch your fluffy, fluffy ear, but tell me anyway.”

He laughs, and it’s dark and eager. “You’re making me lose my mind, darling. Your touch, your voice, the way you smell, the way you taste, the way you sound, everything, all of it is perfect."

“What does it feel like to fuck me?” You pause. “How does it feel to fuck your mate?”

He pauses and he seems to shiver faintly.

“Goddamn, that’s a hell of a question," he mutters. "It’s almost overwhelming. It’s like there’s something inside me that needs this, that needs, this, needs you. I don’t know how to explain it better, but it’s never felt like this before. I’ve never felt this before, never felt like this, like, like I’m whole."

“Alastor…”

He looks at you, his pupils blown. “Yes, darling?"

You want to say something, but words aren’t coming. You kiss him instead.

He moans into your mouth, his eyes sliding almost closed, and you can feel him almost tremble against you, as if he’s in ecstasy, as if he’s overwhelmed by this.

“Damn it, darling, don’t tease me like that," he mumbles against your lips.

“How can it be teasing when you’re currently inside me?”

He lets out a sound that’s almost a whine, his hands still gripping your thighs.

“Because you’re making me want even more, darling,” he murmurs, “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now. Keep going, please."

He moans again, and it’s almost desperate.

“Kiss me again, darling, please," He half-pleads, "please, I need more, more, I need you to kiss me."

You don’t hesitate, gripping his hair to pull him down, his lips crashing down against yours.

He moans deep and desperate, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, kissing you deeply and hungrily. His hands are still gripping your thighs, so tight that it’s leaving bruises on you.

You don’t care about the bruises. There’s something about kissing him that’s making the already great sex even more intense, to the point you’re practically whimpering underneath him. He does a kind of turn and you break the kiss to scream.

He groans, his eyes almost shut. “Goddamn, that’s good, darling, that’s perfect. Say my name like that again."

“Alastor, please, I’m not sure how much more I can take…”

“Well, you will,” he snaps. “You’re mine, darling, and you’re going to take what I give to you, what I do to you, because you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with you. I want to hear my name from your pretty lips, and I want to hear my name moaned by your perfect voice."

He reaches between you, blunting a fingertip to rub at your clit. Miraculously, it’s not over-sensitised anymore, but it does speed things along—it also makes you vocal.

Very vocal.

Every filthy word you’ve ever even thought comes flying out from your lips.

He laughs, and the laughter is dark and eager.

“Fuck.” Alastor’s eyes half-close, "I love hearing those pretty noises from you, darling. I love hearing those sweet, beautiful sounds you make for me, I love knowing that I’m the one that makes you make them, I love knowing that I’m the one that makes you moan. Say my name again, say it again, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever have.”

You whimper softly. “Alastor, please, I can’t hold on, I can’t.”

He laughs, and his eyes slowly open, looking right into yours.

“Say it again. Say my name again, I need to hear you say my name again, I need to hear you moan it, I need to hear you whimper it, I need to hear it, I need that perfect voice to moan my name one more damn time."

Your body starts to shake and it’s damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his, but you definitely don’t want to deal with the consequences of your eyes closing again. Every little flick of his finger sends sparks through your whole body.

“Fuck, Alastor, goddamn it, please.”

He moans, and his eyes slide almost closed at those words.

“There we go, that’s a good darling, I want you to scream my name. I want you to scream and moan my name, I want to hear you, I want to know that you’re mine, I want you to say that you’re mine, I want to know that you know that you belong to me—“

“Alastor!” You begin to shout his name, over and over again.

He chuckles darkly, and you can feel the vibrations of it, feel it rumble through his chest.

“There we go, that’s exactly what I wanted, exactly what I wanted. You’re being so good, darling, so good, don’t stop now. Say it again, don’t stop saying it. Don’t stop saying my name, say it again for me, do it again and I’ll make you come, I’ll make you come so hard that you forget your own damn name, darling, say my name again and I promise that I’ll make you come so hard that you forget everything but my name, say it again, say my name again, don’t stop, never stop saying my name, say it, say it, say it say it please say just say my name, say my name, say, my fucking name!”

His fingers flick against your clit even faster, his cock presses against your g-spot ruthlessly.

You shout his name like a reverent mantra, fuelled by the heat in your belly.

“Good girl,” he says in a hoarse voice. His pace quickens and you can tell he’s just as close as you as you are. “Good girl, so good.”

Your thighs squeeze around his hips when you finally, finally come, pussy fluttering around his cock as he pounds you hard. Alastor kisses you, hard, as he chases after you. His hips soon still and his head drops down to your chest, breathing heavily.

You stroke his hair for a few moments, until your thighs stop trembling.

You hadn’t considered what would happen afterward. Well, you hadn’t actually considered any of this when you came to his room at all. What a bizarre turn of events. You don’t even know what time it is, how long that went on.

One thing you do know, or have at least gathered from various forms of media in hell, is that men want you to leave. When Alastor carefully gets onto his side, you silently slip out of bed—

Or you try to, anyway.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Alastor asks, a hint of anger and smidge of threat in his voice.

“I was, uh, just find my clothes,” you say.

“Those won’t be necessary,” he says sharply, jerking you back and pulling you flush against his body.

A few tense moments pass before he speaks again, clearly quite pissed.

“Why would you try to leave me?” he asks. “Didn’t I say you’re mine? Didn’t you say you’re mine? Didn’t you agree you belong to me? Didn’t you repeat it again and again? You had plenty of opportunities to deny me, darling. Didn’t I tell you that you are my mate? How dare you?”

“I didn’t—I don’t—I didn’t think—“

“That’s right, you didn’t think,” he says sharply, wrapping his arms securely around you. “I made it very clear that you are mine. Why did you try to leave?”

“To be honest, I thought that was meaningless sex talk!”

Alastor huffs. “Well, it wasn’t. You’re mine. You’re never to leave me again, am I understood?”

“But Alastor—“

“You will not deny me!”

“Okay, okay,” you say, your cheeks rather warm. “Okay, I’m yours. I won’t leave.”

“You will not even leave this room until after this goddamned rut finally goes away, and even then you’re on a short leash.”

“Eventually I’ll get hungry!”

Now he looks very pissed. “Do you believe I can’t or won’t provide for you?”

Your eyebrows leap. “Alastor, really, I’m not trying to offend you. I just don’t know what to do. Help me out here.”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he snaps. “You’re going to stay here, with me, not with Charlie’s nonsense and not playing video games. You will be attentive to me and I will be the one providing you with meals and anything else that you and the fawns need.”

“Fawns?”

He tsks and makes a dismissive gesture. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I feel like I should worry about that,” you say.

Alastor squeezes you in his arms, his eyes closing. “Shut up.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself as he nuzzles against you, probably scenting, you realise. Thank God you were up late enough to hear everything in his room explode, to hear the pained moans of a man settling into a rut. Thank God for Cum Sluts vs Zombies.

[omniuravity]

Helluverse During Rut/Mating Season Headcanons

Tags: @bloodypeachblog , @hazelfoureyes , @pinkhimecat , @je-suis-eternel-jennie, @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered

TW: Sex (obviously), animalistic behavior, way too much research, creature cocks (kind of), mention of pregnancy

Thank you guys for the overwhelming positivity from the last one! Here's another one!

Angel Dust:

Angel doesn't really talk about mating season much, unless it's for his films. Val, of course, finds it sexy and makes Angel work anyway.

Like most male spiders, Angel tends to mate with multiple partners during mating season unless he's in a relationship.

Angel loves dancing with you during this time of year. He finds it brings himself closer to you.

Angel tries to make sure you don't feel pressured to have sex with him during his mating season. He wants you to feel comfortable and loved.

Angel is pretty submissive in bed despite him being the one wanting to mate with you, though expect him to want it a bit more rough.

"Come on, baby. I'll be gentle at first, then we can get to the kinky stuff~"

Adam:

An angel's rut or heat isn't nearly as intense as a demon's, unless you're as sexual as Adam.

Adam is normally very possessive, but he gets extra possessive of you when it's mating season. Another man can't even look at you without him blowing up.

Adam likes to help make a little nest for the two of you. Adam also likes to bring you shiny things for the nest.

Adam likes to play his guitar for you as a way to remind you how much he loves you.

Adam is normally pretty rough in bed, while he's rutting it's so much harder and deeper.

"Chill out, I'm gonna take really good care of you, babe~"

Blitzø:

Blitzø's heat is pretty intense. If he somehow has a partner you are not leaving his apartment.

He tries to cook for you, but unfortunately isn't very good. He always insists on cooking for you since he does most of the work in bed (or so he says).

Surprisingly, enough he does enjoy those gentle moments after sex with you. He'll never admit it though.

Speaking of gentle moments, he loves to cuddle. He will cuddle you like a teddy bear. If he starts to cry gently rub his back and hold him.

Blitzø is a VERY kinky motherfucker. He's open to trying every kink once. Any kink you can think of, he's tried it. Yep, even that one.

"Get down, it's time for some quality time with daddy~"

Stolas:

Stolas' rut is very different than most Goetias. He doesn't get as violent as other bird-like demons, but he's still very defensive of his partner.

He brings you all the shiny things for the nest you two share. He also doesn't mind being presented with shiny things.

Speaking of the nest, it consists of blankets, the shiny things, and his feathers.

He also enjoys cooking for you. He is much better than Blitzø, of course.

He's going to bottom. There is no question about it. He's also really loud when the two of you have sex

"I want to take this slow for you. I love you and want you to feel as loved as I do."

Verosika:

Verosika's heat is very intense due to her being a succubus. Though she doesn't let that change her demeanor in the bedroom.

She does have to stop performing for the public while she deals with her heat.

Even though she doesn't perform in public during her heat, she does sing for you.

She loves leaving marks on your body. Scratch marks, kisses, and bite marks will litter your body for days.

Verosika always tops, period. She takes good care of her submissives, though.

"You're so pretty, well not as pretty as me, but I'm still gonna take care of you, baby~"

[aliens8n]

Lucifer Morningstar [ABC of smut]

I hope you guys enjoy this little bundle of headcanons!

Warning: Nsfw theme

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

 Lucifer is the type to wrap you in silk, fetch you the finest wine, and whisper sweet words until you're utterly spoiled.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his wings and back! His wings are a bit more sensitive than most of his body so he enjoys the sensation they bring when touched in such a heated moment. As for his partner, he likes their hands, I don’t think there is a proper reason other than he just finds that body part fairly attractive and well obviously useful! 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He isn’t very fussy about it and rather easygoing about it depending on the moment! He does enjoy little mess. It's all part of the fun. He likes the aftermath the most!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is the king of Hell!! He had lifetimes to perfect his skills after all. And he’s very confident in his abilities!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He would not play favorites with this part. Why would he limit himself to just one? He prefers to keep things interesting, and spontaneous. With how flexible he am, he think it'd be a pity not to show off a little.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

This man is a fine mix! He can be either serious or playful! Sometimes He is playful, after all, what’s the point if you’re not having a bit of fun? But there are moments when things get serious, and he can be... quite intense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Everything about him is perfectly groomed. He takes pride in his appearance, after all.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Occasionally he does indulge himself, but he prefers to make it much more exciting such as having an audience or even... Partner to help! 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Lucifer has a taste for the more intense side of things. A few that he definitely would bring to the bedroom is power play, and don’t worry he has no problem giving his partner the power if they so desire. Breath play? Absolutely! He finds that it adds such an exquisite edge. A frequent visitor in the bed would be the whole spectrum of BDSM... restraint, discipline, just enough to keep things interesting.

L = Location (favorite places to do they do)

Despite all his beautiful kinks and willingness to experiment, this sweet king's all-time favorite spot to get freaky in is his bedroom. After all, nothing beats privacy and comfort.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Want to get him excited? Show that you mean business and not afraid to well play with the devil! Power and confidence are the way into his heart and pants!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will NOT do any sort of genuine harm! Nuh-uh, he might be the King of Hell but he has some morals. Another way to turn him off is overdoing teasing and playing and then giving nothing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving absolutely but isn’t going to say no if you want to put in some work!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t the biggest fan of them as he prefers to take his time and fully indulge himself but he won’t just completely shut down the idea. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is always willing to push the boundaries, and try something new. Referring back to a previous letter are limits, everything must be thrilling, not reckless! 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

A better question is how much are you up for!~

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) 

Lucifer is quite fond of using them on a partner. As for himself, he isn’t opposed to the idea and enjoys a toy or two!

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Too damn much but at least by the end, you’ll be left feeling satisfied as well eagerly thinking about what he will come up next. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not the quiet type! Sounds from moans to growls, anything your filthy mind can think of he mostly has made that sound a few times before. After all, he is prideful, not shy. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is quite the romantic so he loves candles, fancy silks, and dramatic settings...  He adores creating the perfect atmosphere for you both to indulge in and have a good time in!

[queenofmorningstar]

Guys, just hear me out

tw: (Angst) (kinda manipulative reader??)

You're sent down to Hell by heaven as a spy, by Sera to disrupt Hazbin Hotel.

The most obvious way? To disrupt the new good relationship building between Charlie and Lucifer. With him involved, Hell has a very good chance of winning.

So you set up a plan, to become closer to both of them. Charlie and you quickly become best friends, and up to this point she values your opinion in the hotel's workings and plans. (Honestly you're giving Alastor a run for his money)

To you, Lucifer seemed easy as well. Give him some attention, show interest in his hobbies and support him through his depressive episodes. You made sure you were always nearby if he seemed sad. But it took time to earn his trust, since he didn't trust anyone in Hell.

But he soon saw you in a different light, and soon you both were always joined at the hip.

At first, you were only there for the sake of it, but bit by bit the fallen angel took your heart.

Lucifer did the old-fashioned way of courtship, which you adored. One of those dates, he confessed his love for you. You were ecstatic, almost forgotten about your real job. You were so assimilated with your friends at the hotel, that it was at the back of your mind.

Unfortunately, before you could slowly break the news of your ex- betrayal, Lucifer found out first.

You tried to tell him that you had at first, sought him out for your job, but now you are truly in love with him! You have given up on the job.

But can he trust you again? He cannot help but think about whether every kiss was a lie? Were you any different from those who were responsible for shattering his dreams? Was it a lie when he made love with you under the full moon?

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.