#human alastor x y/n

[redvexillum]

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

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

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

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

This was different. 

It felt intimate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you die for him? 

Could you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it be true? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun. 

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

Fun. 

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

Fun. 

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

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

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

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

You looked like a fool. 

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

For him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cher?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Now came the hardest part. 

Waiting. 

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

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

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

Safe, and with you once more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't need this thing anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always waiting. 

And yet... 

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

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A life he would never know. 

A life he had willingly forfeited. 

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

An eternity of silence. 

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

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[redfoxwritesstuff]

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

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

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to help?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It means, let’s race.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You did,” he whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

(VoxTek prompt of the week)

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

Alastor x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[babyfoxflower]

The One That Outsmarted Him

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader Oneshot

Warnings: 18+, MNDI, Yandere! Alastor, Murder, Blood, Kidnapping, Groping, Implied Noncon

You.

You were the only person to ever escape Alastor ‘the Bayou Butcher’ Hartfelt. It was honestly slightly humiliating that the one to outsmart him was a silly girl. A petite woman who he could have easily overpowered and slit her throat. What a pretty little throat yours was.

Once the humiliation wore off though. Alastor started having different feelings about you. Admiration, respect, and strangely, for him, infatuation. In other words, he was in love with you. You were going to be his. Whether you wanted to or not. He’d track you down, chain you up so you couldn’t escape, and love you for the rest of his life. Even if you managed to escape, he’ll just hunt you down again.

Alastor hummed as he opened his trunk, in there laid a brown sack that squirmed around and made muffled panic noises.

“Someone wake up from their nap? Don’t worry, ma Cherie. You’ll be out soon,” he cooed as he stroked his large hand over the outline of a human body.

He hoisted the sack over his shoulder before closing the trunk. He carried it all the way down to his basement, where there was a comfy queen sized bed with a chain ready for his darling.

He gently dropped the bag onto the bed, causing a little bounce. He opened it up and there you were, looking so adorable and confused.

“There she is,” he chuckled as he pulled you out of the sack.

Your hands and feet were bond and there was a gag keeping you from speaking. As soon as you saw who your captor was, fear consumed you and you started to fight the best you could in your state.

“Now, now, I’ll untie you. Just let me get the chain.”

Alastor picked up the chain that was attached to the wall and placed it as gently as he could on your neck before clamping it closed. It had enough room for you to breathe but was still sturdy enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

He then untied your wrists and ankles before removing the gag.

“Please, don’t kill me! I didn’t tell anyone about that night!” You cried out.

“Shhh,” Alastor placed his finger to your lips, “It’s alright, my love, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

Memories flashed back of you coming in the station after hours to get something you left behind. You heard something in the recording room. Curiosity got the better of you and you entered only to see the famous radio host who happened to also be your employer stabbing a man to death.

The smile, the horrid smile that was on his face as he carved into the unknown man. Just the pure ecstasy Alastor was clearly experiencing from such an atrocious act. It was so terrifying that you nearly fainted. However, all you could do was stand there motionless, face twisted in terror.

Once the man was dead, Alastor laughed, “Thank you for the entertainment, ol’ chum.”

He began cleaning his glasses with his handkerchief, his face still covered with the crimson liquid. When he put them back on, he turned and saw you.

“Oh dear, looks like we have a little witness. Y/n, you just had to show up at the wrong time,” He tsked.

“Please, Mister Hartfelt…” was all you could manage to say.

“I try not to make it a habit of killing women, but I guess in this case I have no choice. Sorry, Sweetheart. But, hey, I’ll make it quick. You’ll barely feel a thing,” he said as he approached you.

Tears started streaming down your cheeks, “Please, don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“A real shame, you were such a hardworker and quite a charming lady,” he raised his knife.

Out of desperation, you did the one thing you could think of in that moment, you kissed him. Alastor took a step back, shocked. Out of surprise, he dropped his knife. You seized the opportunity and ran away. You escaped with your life.

Now what could he possibly want with you? It was true that you didn’t tell anyone about that encounter. You only quit by letter and never went back to that radio station again.

“I brought you here, ma Cherie, because I love you,” Alastor pressed his lips against yours.

“What!?” You said into the forced kiss.

He reluctantly pulled away, “I love you and I’m going to keep you forever.”

“What!?”

“I assure you that you will be safe and provided for, my love,” he smiled tenderly as he brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

The look on his face was of a smitten schoolboy. Pupils dilated, face flushed.

“How can you love me? You hardly know me. I worked for you but it’s not like we ever talked much. Not mentioning that you tried to KILL ME!”

“I know, but that was in the past. Let’s focus on the future instead,” he wiped your remaining tears away, “I love you and will never hurt you now or ever. That’s a promise.”

Suddenly, he lifted you up and laid you down so that your head was on the pillows. You let out a squeak that he found absolutely adorable. He took off his leather gloves and let his hands explore your body.

“What are you doing?”

“I apologize, I just couldn’t resist getting to touch my bride,” he said before cupping your breasts in each hand.

“Bride!?”

Alastor ignored your outburst and forced you into another kiss. His hands massaged your chest. He moaned at the feel of you underneath him, how soft you were. The fact that you were all his now, oh, he was going to savior this moment.

He held you down as you kept trying to push him away. How cute, you were playing hard to get. He continued to kiss you until you eventually kissed him back, you didn’t want to but it seemed like he wasn’t going to stop until you did.

A string of saliva formed at the bottom of each of your lips as he pulled away, “Let’s get these clothes off, shall we?”

“Wait, I’m a…”

“A what, my love?”

“A virgin.”

You regretted saying that as it only seemed to make him even more aroused. He licked his lips even. A hunger rose from deep inside of him.

“Oh. Isn’t that lovely? I get to be the first and only man to make love to you,” he smiled a slightly psychotic smile.

“Wait!” You pleaded as he began removing your dress.

He suddenly stroked that special place between your legs which led you to moan uncontrollably. Your body betrayed you.

“Don’t worry, ma Cherie. I will be gentle. I promise,” he gave you a reassuring kiss before unbuckling his belt.

[alastwhorez]

Southern drawl

♡ pairing: Human!Alastor x Reader

♡ Summary: you can't help but love Alastor’s southern drawl

♡ Warnings: 18+, MDNI, sleepy Alastor, voice kink, unprotected sex, southern drawl, sleepy voice

♡ An: quickly written, not proofread, possible spelling errors, poorly written.

Can't stop thinking about Alastor’s sleepy voice..

Imagine Alastor working late at the radio station or having a late night “hunting” and coming home just to fall asleep on the couch.

Imagine the next morning you find him. Head tilted back, legs spread, one thrown over the back of the couch the other hanging off. His glasses are hanging low on his face and his hair is a mess.

Imagine crouching down beside him and gently shaking him awake. “Al, baby time to wake up”

Imagine him groaning and cracking open one of his eyes, a goofy smile on his face as he takes you in and says your name slurring the word. “‘ive more minutes darlin'”

Imagine him closing his eyes again and rolling over and into a ball on the couch. He's way too tall to be sleeping there but he's too comfortable to move.

Imagine him talking in his sleep, his voice is raspy, his southern drawl more prominent and speech slightly slurred laced with sleep.

Imagine him not actually being asleep, he just knows what his voice does to you when it sounds like that.

Imagine him using this to his advantage. Always trying to rile you up and get a reaction out of you.

Imagine him with a hidden smirk on his face as he hears your breath hitch when you hear him talk.

Imagine him “waking up” just to talk dirty to you in that voice. “Wanna fuck you so bad darlin’. Bend you over the table and Have my way with ya.”

Imagine him knowing exactly what he is doing to you. Holding back a laugh and trying not to smirk “Aw darlin’ somethin’ the matter? You're all flushed. Look at you rubbing your legs together”

Imagine him actually Doing it. You're bent over the coffee table, nightgown thrown up over your hips as he thrusts into you. He's bent over you back whispering the naughtiest things you've ever heard. “Fuck, cunts so tight sweetness. was made for me. Left a permanent imprint of my cock. Look at you takin’ me so well.”

Imagine him putting his hand on your stomach feeling the Bulge of himself going in and out. He takes your hand And puts it there pushing down. “Feel that sweet girl? Feel how deep in you I am?”

Imagine after he is done with you his voice is somehow even more raspy and his southern drawl even worse. “Let's get ya cleaned up darlin’”

Imagine him giving you the sweetest aftercare, running you a bath and cuddling up on the couch as you listen to jazz on the radio.

[tune-on-in-folks]

Day 13! I actually managed to get this in time! And I do like this one, it has it's charm. Enjoy a Human!Alastor x Reader.

Tags/Warnings: Murder, blood, p in v sex, fem!receiving oral, oral sex, creampie, talk about murder, actual murder, abuse, mention of abuse, implied and written abuse, reader's husband is an abusive asshat, serial killer Alastor Word Count: 2, 876

There was not a man in town that was as captivating as Alastor Hartfelt. The popular radio host was quite the charmer, always managing to charm men and women alike. Which worked to his advantage. It was easy to lull his victims into a sense of calm, earning their trust. Long enough to draw them to his cabin, and end their lives. Of course, no one was particularly fussed when the people he chose went missing. They were often men who reminded him of his own father. They weren’t people that would be missed by anyone and he knew that. After all, his mother hadn’t missed his father one bit when he went missing one night.

Of course, with his charms and his rising popularity as a radio host, he began to draw unwanted attention. That often came in the form of womanly admirers, those who sought to try to win his heart. Or earn his favor. Of course, Alastor didn’t have time for them, he was a busy man after all. His friendship with Mimzy helped dampen the amount of womanly suitors enough that he was finally getting left alone.

Enough for you to catch his attention.

Alastor knew who you were, you worked for his radio station, after all. You were an intern, fetching coffee, taking calls, the sorts. He had spoken to you only a handful of times, typically when you brought him his morning coffee. You were quiet, never trying to strike up a conversation with him unlike all the other women who worked at the station. You were refreshing and Alastor found that he enjoyed your quiet presence. He requested you for tasks by name more and more.

“You, my dear, are a fresh breath of air!” He said one day, giving you a soft smile.

You had flashed him such a pretty smile in turn, “How so?”

“You, my dear, understand me.” He replied, refusing to elaborate.

The more you saw of Alastor, the more you were charmed by the man’s charms. He once told you that you were a fresh breath of air, but he was your own fresh breath. His witty remarks, kind smile, and soft touches were in stark contrast to your husband’s. You found yourself growing fond of Alastor and the increasing time you’d spend with the radio host. It wasn’t long before he promoted you to his assistant, which meant that you were spending most of your time with Alastor. It was nice, something you looked forward to. He quickly became your reason for living. You often fantasized about having married him instead of your husband. The silent camaraderie between the both of you was enjoyable. Alastor made you laugh, shared your humor, and your wit. He was gentle, kind, and charming. He was everything your husband was not. He was everything you wanted. Somewhere along the lines you had managed to fall in love with Alastor. Your promotion to assistant came with a single red rose a few days later that had your heart skipping a beat. Especially because you knew the meaning behind such a simple gesture. Alastor had given it to you, and kissed you in the privacy of his office, admitting to his affections for you. It was enough to make you swoon.

The news of your promotion got to your husband faster than you could muster up the strength to tell him yourself, fearing his anger.

The news of your promotion somehow got out to your husband.

You had just finished putting the rose into a small glass when your husband came home, raging drunk, demanding you to explain why he hadn’t heard of your promotion.

“I had to learn that from John. Is there something you don’t want me to know?” His hands slammed down on the table, shaking the vase with the single rose.

His eyes caught on the bloom, “Who the fuck gave you a single fucking rose?” He picked up the vase, hurling it, “Answer me, damnit!”

You barely flinched as the vase went flying towards your head, barely missing. “A work friend.”

Your husband had scoffed, advancing on you. “Work friend, my ass. No one gives my wife a single red rose and gets away with it!”

What he meant by that was that you got punished instead. His hand struck your face, sending you sprawling to the floor. You barely flinched, used to your husband’s anger. You were in for a long night, but you didn’t care. Because Alastor had given you a red rose and you knew exactly what that meant. Unspoken love coming to light. He was always such a charmer.

You came into work the next day sore, bruises barely covered with makeup, but enough that no one batted an eye at you. That was until you entered Alastor's office. He was working on his latest script, his eyes flickering up upon your entry.

“Hello, my dear.” He greeted, pausing as he saw your limp.

He sat up fully, pushing his round glasses further up his face to take you in better. After a moment of observing you he spoke up.

“Are you alright, little doe?”

You chuckled, trying to brush off his concern. “I’m perfectly fine, Alastor. I had a small tumble today, that’s all.”

“Hmm.” He hums, his eyes narrowed.

He had heard around the speakeasies that your husband wasn’t the kindest man. But he had never seen the physical signs of abuse before. His eyes caught on the bruise under your eye, your makeup having smudged.

“Come here, darling.” He gestured, reaching for your hand.

You flashed him a soft smile, taking his hand as he pulled you closer to him. 

“Alastor, you know I’m married, you charmer.” You attempted to joke.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bruised cheek. He watched how you flinched at his slight touch.

“Yes, that’s what I’m worried about.” He mutters, his voice dropped into something low and dangerous. “He did this, didn’t he?”

You took a deep breath, knowing that no matter what, Alastor would always be able to see through you. “He did. But I’m okay, I promise, Al.”

He had withdrawn his touch, his mind already churning with plans on how to charm your husband. How to earn his trust and kill him for ever laying a single hand on you. He had already been narrowing down the speakeasies your husband frequented. It was only a matter of time before he was the next victim of the Bayou Butcher.

“I promise you, my dear. I will help you out of your situation.” He flashed you a dangerous smile.

You chuckled, sitting down beside Alastor, “And I would love your help.”

Oh if you only knew what you were agreeing to.

Alastor had managed to ‘accidentally’ cross paths with your husbandthe next night. He pretended to be new in town, working to charm your husband. But Paul wasn’t a stupid man and didn’t give his trust readily. Alastor realized it would take a few nights of charming your husband, much to his distaste. Barely an hour in and he was disgusted by the man. But you were the one woman who managed to capture his attention, and subsequently his affection. And Alastor was determined to free you from your husband. 

Your husband's beatings grew more frequent in the coming days, and you did your best to hide it.  Alastor always saw through you, however. His anger was growing, his patience slipping.

And now it was breaking.

You hadn’t managed to make it into work that day. Everyone noticed your absence, and they talked. They talked loud enough for it to get back to Alastor that your husband had hurt you badly. He left his studio early that night, having decided that that was the night he’d kill your husband.

“Alastor!” Paul roared upon seeing the Alastor enter the speakeasy, “Come here, my friend!”

Alastor gave him a polite smile, his eye twitching in utter annoyance, but he greeted the man all the same. “Salutations, Paul. Fine weather we’re having today, yes?”

“Who cares about the weather, hey!” Paul slapped his chest, “Let me buy you a drink.”

Alastor let him, keeping an eye on how much your husband drank. He always ensured that for every shot he had, your husband had two. It was a little game he was playing, his impatience showing. He was tired of trying to charm your husband, he was going to kill him and he was going to do it tonight.

Eventually Paul left to head back home, declining Alastor’s offer to help him home. The radio host could only quietly glower as his plans changed. He would just have to tail your husband home, and draw him away before he arrived at your home. Alastor couldn’t risk y0u seeing him kill your husband. But of course, he got distracted fantasizing about killing your husband, that he lost sight of him. Cursing, Alastor quickened his pace. He realized, too late, that Paul had arrived at your home. His anger was simmering beneath the surface, but he would be damned if he’d let Paul live another night. He needed a plan to draw him back out, away from you.

Yelling erupted from your home, Alastor’s anger sparking into a full roar as he heard what he thought was you being thrown to the floor. Unable to stop himself, he rushed up the steps to the front door of your home. Cold panic flooded him as silence suddenly blanketed the house. He shoved the door open, ready to kill your husband for hurting you, when he froze.

There you stood, covered in blood, a knife in your hands. Paul lay on the floor steadily bleeding out from a wound in his neck. Alastor gently closed the door behind him, locking it. He made sure that the blinds were completely drawn before he made his way to you. You set the bloody knife down with shaky hands, taking in Alastor’s calm approach.

“Alastor?” You whisper, not having anticipated his presence.

You had acted out of pure instinct when your husband lunged at you, he had managed to put two and two together. He had figured out it was your boss who had given you the rose. He had told you he was going to kill you, and yet here he lay, dying on the floor of the house you shared.

Alastor stopped in front of you, taking your bloodied hands in his. “Well, my dear, I must say I’m very proud of you.”

He cupped your cheek, smearing your husband’s blood onto your face. You shivered at the feeling, adrenaline still pumping through your body.

“Al-” He cuts you off, his lips pressing against yours incessantly.

You moan into the kiss, not having expected it.

Alastor rests his forehead against yours, his voice deep and sultry as he asks, “Tell me my dear, how does your first kill feel?”

You shiver, “exhilarating.”

“Mhm, good.” He smiles widely, capturing your lips again. “You did so good.”

His mouth trails down your jaw, to your throat. Your breath hitches as Alastor nips and kisses your skin. You wrap your hands around his back, sliding a hand into his hair as you moan.

“Alas-tor…” You whimper, “I just..fuck…killed my husband.”

He pulled your nightgown over your head,pulling a small gasp from you. 

“You did. And I’m so proud of you.” He praises kissing you again, “I was going to kill him myself, but you did wonderfully, my dear. We’ll take care of his body in a moment.”

You whine into Alastor’s kiss, feeling his grip on your hips tighten. He rolled his hips against you, his erection pressing against your low stomach.

“Alastor..” You gasp as he leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. “You…You’re the Bayou Butcher?” It was less of a question and more of an observation.

“I’m surprised you figured it out, my dear.” He praises, sliding your panties off.

“Of course I did, I know you.” You whisper, gasping as he hoists you up, pressing you against your kitchen counter.

The knife you had stabbed your husband with was right beside you as Alastor kissed down your body.

“And how long have you known?” He asks, nipping at your inner thigh.

You moan softly, “I figured it out months ago. Enough time to figure out a pattern in the men you kill. I was hoping Paul was next.”

“He was, but you beat me to it, my dear.” He pushes your thighs open, licking a long stripe up from your slit to your clit.

You gasp, moaning as Alastor closed his mouth around your nub, his fingers sliding into your tight cunt.

“I’m surprised you’re as wet as you are. You did just kill your husband after all.” He teased you, curling his fingers inside you.

“And I have the man I love touching me.” you retort, rolling your hips down against his touch, your breath quickening.

Alastor chuckles, speeding his touch up as he sucks and nips at your clit. He could feel your walls squeezing around his fingers as you got closer to your release. A few more moments and you were crying out, cumming around his fingers. He continued to finger you through your release, lapping up your juices. He pulled his fingers out a moment later, licking his fingers clean. He reached for his pants, freeing his cock. Your eyes caught on his member, a shiver of anticipation running through you. He raises an eyebrow as you attempt to close your legs, prevented only by him being nestled between them.

“Now, now. No getting shy on me, my dear.” He chuckles, pumping his length a few times.

Alastor grabbed a hold of your knees, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. He ran his cock through your slick folds, positioning himself at your entrance.

“You’re just so big.” You mummer, glancing behind him towards your husband’s body. “Bigger than him.”

“Ah-ah-ah, eyes on me, darling.” He scolds, grasping your face in between his fingers.

You meet Alastor’s gaze again in time for him to flash you his charming smile. He begins to press into you, slowly rocking his hips. He entered you slowly, drawing a long moan from you.

“I’m the only thing you should be concerning yourself with right now.” He murmurs.

“Oh fuck!” You whimper, rolling your hips down as he pressed into you.

“So good.” He moans himself, slowly reaching his hilt. “So tight. You were made for me.”

You smile softly, arms wrapping around his back as he begins to rock his hips.

“You did so well, my love, and now look at you, taking my cock so well.” He continues to praise, his thrusts long, deep, and slow. “I’ve waited far too long to be in your perfect cunt.”

You chuckle, meeting Alastor’s thrusts as he picks up his pace. “And I waited too long to kill my husband.”

He hums, his breaths coming a little faster. “Better late than never, my darling doe.”

He picked up his pace, the sound of him fucking you filled the air. Your moans were met with his grunts, mixing with the symphony that was your bodies meeting over and over. Your grasp tightened on Alastor’s back, kissing him deeply. Your pleasure was building higher and higher, the coil in your gut tightening. You knew you were close to your release again.

“Ah-Alastor, I’m close.” You mewl against his mouth.

He pistoned in and out of you faster, his breathing growing labored. He slipped his hand between your bodies, rubbing at your clit in tight circles.

“Let me feel you, darling. Let me feel you fall apart around my cock.”

You cried out, your head falling back against the cabinets at his touch. Your body quivered, his name spilling from your lips loudly as you came hard around his cock. Alastor buried his face against your neck, biting down on your shoulder as his pace faltered. A moment later he found his own release, pushing as deep as he could inside you. You moaned at the sensation of his seed filling you, your walls squeezed him, milking him for every drop.

“Fuck,” he panted, “Just like that. You’re such a good girl. My darling little doe, you took me so well.”

He kissed you gently as he slowly pulled from your cunt. You whimper at the loss of his cock.

“Alastor.” You whisper, reaching out for him as he takes a step back from you.

He flashes you his smile again, tucking his softening cock away. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? Then I’ll dispose of this insolent creature’s body.”

Alastor scooped you off the counter into his arms. You smile, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for your help, my love.” You whisper against his mouth.

“Of course, my dear, you don’t have to worry about him any longer. I’ll take care of it.”

You giggle as he begins to carry you upstairs, you couldn’t care less that Alastor was the Bayou Butcher, he was the man you loved. And lucky for you, he loved you back.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

(human!Alastor x f!reader drabble)

Masterlist

Some poetic and reminiscing thoughts from (human) Alastor about his darling-doe. This is unlike anything I've written before. Honestly, I’m not even sure what this is. I wrote it a while ago when I was severely sleep-deprived.

I know he's no longer human in this, but he's telling us about a time when he still was. That's why I tagged it as human!Alastor.

CW: Possessive thoughts, mention of murder and manipulation

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I remember the day I first saw you so clearly as if it didn’t happen almost a hundred years ago – back then, when we were still human, nothing but mere people made of flesh and bone, born to live, and living to die. Oh, what a beautiful sight you were, so beautiful – the most beautiful creature of them all. Not only your face resembled the image of a goddess, but your soul shone so bright it made even the darkest of times turn day. You were a true angel sent from heaven, a kind soul and oh so fragile. Glancing into those beautiful doe eyes of yours made me want to ruin you. To take you with me, poison your every being and make you mine – and mine only.

It feels as if it was yesterday that you introduced yourself to me. That radiant smile on your lips, those long lashes framing those shining eyes like they’re the most valuable painting in this world, and I've lost myself in you. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things, I didn’t even consider I was able to feel – because I never felt them before. I've heard those tales. Even read those tales about unconditional love. About how the heartbeat increases whenever you’re close to the one you desire. About how much you crave their touch, their voice, their love – completely and utterly devoted to the one person in this world. One out of billions of people. But I never dared to think I would ever feel the same. Did I feel the same? I was obsessed with you; wanted to possess you in every way possible. And when those full lips of yours parted and your angelic voice entered my ears for the first time, you already had it all. And I knew I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

Were you fascinated by me? Oh, you were. I saw it on your face. In the tiniest details that betrayed your overly polite expression that you so strongly tried to keep professional. I saw that you were intrigued the very moment you laid your eyes on me. It was like fate had sent you to me. Like my mother in heaven twisted all the odds in my favor, just so I could meet you. Oh, the way you smiled at me. The way you looked at me. How your voice slightly raised when you spoke directly to me. It made my heart flutter and it filled me with an emotion I never thought to ever be able to feel my whole life. And I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

We met again, after that night. More often than appropriate. In parks, at the bank of the Mississippi, at professional events and at a restaurant I so carefully chose. One that I knew would only serve the best of New Orleans’ cuisine. To make you acquainted with my home and my culture. To prepare you to be on my side. I saw you once, I saw you twice. I saw you an umpteenth times. And yet I was waiting for the perfect moment to ruin you – to make you mine – and mine only.

Were you as corrupted as I? Were you – beside your angel-like nature – capable to make the change, to become one like me, and sacrifice your very being to the darkness of twisted human nature? The desire to kill, the desire to hunt with you grew with every passing day. Day to day I've been waiting for the moment. For the perfect opportunity to make you see my true nature. To make you see my grim twisted morality, to make you see my darkest of secrets, to make you accept it with a smile, to make you succumb to your own darkness, to make you fall, to make you mine – and mine only.

The night we first shared a kiss felt like a dream. An oh so beautiful, yet so tragic dream – because I knew that once your lips touched mine, everything between us would change forever. I remember how you stood before me, much like the day we met, though that angelic smile of yours was replaced by a warmth that exceeded every ounce of adoration you gifted to me before. And then you leaned in, and we kissed. That feeling of your soft lips against mine wasn’t anything like I imagined before. It was so much more, an overwhelming explosion of fireworks. Oh, the hunger that roared on my inside, the need to pull you closer and take everything of you – in this very moment – was unbearable. But I waited. Because at this moment I already knew you were mine – and mine only.

Oh, you were my darling.

My darling-doe.

My angel.

My everything.

And now, I will make you fall.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

[jyoongim]

Feel absolutely free to delete this if it makes you uncomfortable but I would like to request human Alastor and a reader with an age gap between them.

Like I mean the reader is of course the age to concent but I like to imagine Alastor (who is canonically in his late thirties/early forties before he died) enjoying hearing reader calling him ‘daddy’ and begging him to put a baby in her.

Again feel free to reject

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OOOLLDDDEEEERRR DUNDUNDUN

Themes: age gap, Alastor is in late 30s, fem!reader, reader is in early 20s, term ‘daddy’ used sexual, slight breeding kink, baby fever, ovulation

Part 2

‘Aint he a bit…old?’

’oh honey the man is practically your father’

’You’re far too young to want to settle with that fossil’

’how do you expect him to raise children?’

’what he couldn’t find a woman his own age? Robbing the cradle ain’t he?’

Sometimes you’re a little wary of letting people meet your husband. Especially when he was 15 years older than you, a mere 23 year old.

Yes Alastor was a bit older than you, but you didn’t mind. 

You rather enjoyed having someone who has experienced the world a little and would happily provide for you.

The gossip about the two of you always gnawed at your nerves, but you didn’t care, not when he treated you like a princess. 

 Alastor gave you any and everything you needed and wanted, so to hell with the whispers.

As of late, you have been having baby fever. You swore your insides tingle when you are engaged with a child. Your ovaries screaming to have a little bundle of your own to care for.

It didn’t help you’re ovulating…and your husband was looking like he would make the best father for your kids.

The two of you were out in town shopping, when you spotted the cutest baby set. You tugged his arm, to gain his attention to the display in the window. “Darlin what is it?” He asked as you excitedly squealed. You turned to him, lips pouty and giving him your best puppy eyes as you pointed to the display “oh can we get it? Pleeeaaassseee baby. C’mon wont you buy it for me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands dancing lightly along his neck as you pressed your lips to the corner of his.

You knew how to work him that’s for sure.

Alastor hummed tilting his head as he mulled it over. He could never tell you ‘no’, even if it was ridiculous. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, cock twitching in his trousers as you playfully bit it. “You are a little minx you know that?” He sighed, letting you drag him into the store.

“But why do you want baby clothes dear?” he genuinely asked, looking at the displays on a wall as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

You nipped at his ear, tugging the soft flesh cooing into his ear, voice soft and innocent “Because we're gonna need it when I have your baby. Wont you like that? To put a baby in me? Your baby. I think you’ll make a great Daddy. Dont you think daddy?” You purred making the tall man quickly pay for the clothes and drag you out the store, making you giggle.

——————————————————————————————————

"fuuuck, d-don't stop. Ah!" you moan as his cock rams into your pussy, feeling the stretch. His cock is going deep inside of your body, hitting the spongy nerve over and over, making you gush more around his already slicer-covered cock. Alastor’s fingers find your puffy, throbbing clit and he rubs it n tune with speed of his thrusts. Your eyes roll deep inside of your skull as you let out high pitched moans and whines. For once, Alastor is loud, groaning and cursing at the tightness of your pussy.  It’ll never not amaze him that no matter how many times he fucks you, you're always so tight, like you were made just for him.

"gonna cum inside f-fuck baby I’m gonna fill you up so much" he grunts you, kissing your shoulder as he angled his thrusts so he hits your sweet spot. you whine, you're so close, you arched your back to take the impact of his thrust deep into you.

"Oh fuck oo-Oh fuck ah ah ah Ha!f-fuck Al! I-im cumming! Oh god! Yes!" you cry out, toes curling as you push your ass back onto his cock. You mewled as clear liquid squirted out of you and made a mess of the bed. That alone with your cunt fluttering had his cock twitch and his release soon approaches.

"you want my babies? Huh? You gonna let me fuck a baby in you darlin?" he asks you, eyes fixated on his cock disappearing into the creamy mess that was your cunt. You babbled nonsense as your body tries to recover from your orgasm and twitching from overstimulation.

Alastor tugged your hair back, redirecting your attention as his cock slotted into you over and over. “You gotta use you words baby. C’mon what do you want from Daddy?” He grinned feeling your cunt clench.

You sobbed as you felt a finger in your ass, another orgasm raking through you “c-cum. I want your cum inside me. Please! Daddy please put a baby in me! i want to have your babies just please”

Alastor hummed as you cummed again, he laughed "Cant believe I made you cum without my tongue first. But don’t worry, ill give you that too, after I fuck my cum in your pussy. We want it to take don’t we? Yeeeaaa we do. C’mon baby take it take my cum, let me fuck a baby into you.” 

A harsh thrust had you see white and he slammed his lips on yours as his hips shuddered against your ass, cock twitching as he emptied his balls into you.

He sighed as he curled you into his chest, cock still buried inside you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, smiling  “You’ll make such a beautiful momma baby. I can’t wait to have several little ones running about” 

You tilted your head slightly “you want more than one?”

Alastor’s smile deepened “Oh you didn’t think I would stop at just one did you?”

Your cunt fluttered, making him laugh “seems we agree perfectly”

[redvexillum]

@feral-fox-crypt I think I'm a psychic because I think you want rough sex with Alastor? Am I right or am I right? I want to dedicate this story to @dewdropdinosaur she has read some of my other rare pair fic during Kinktober/Flufftober and always left a comment that brought a huge smile to my face. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this one! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, rough s♡x, reader has sub drop, aftercare, bad BDSM etiquette, rough ♡ral s♡x, p in v, choking, hair pulling, belt whipping, dual POV, alastor is bad with feelings, multiple ♡rgasm (f!receiving), over-stimulation, crude language, degradation, d♡m/s♡b, alastor is d♡m, reader is s♡b, minor hurt/comfort, alastor catches feelings for reader

✨️ recommended to read c☆ckwarming first for a fulsome experience ✨️

The sound of slick, wet slurping filled the room, obscene and unashamed, like a starved animal devouring a long-awaited meal.  

Alastor sat back, his glass of bootleg rye balanced in one hand as he stared out the window, eyes fixed on the darkened shed outside. His grip on the glass tightened, a muscle in his jaw twitching as his eyes narrowed, fury simmering beneath the calm veneer he struggled to maintain. It was a cold, bitter fire that burned hot in his chest, ignited by his own failure. 

He had let his prey escape. 

The papers were a humiliating testament to that. The Bayou Butcher, mocked openly, ridiculed. The survivor had painted a vivid tale of bravery, twisting the truth until Alastor was depicted as a bumbling fool—a pathetic predator who’d somehow let a prize slip through his fingers. Every word mocked him, taunted him, kindling the rage that boiled just beneath his polished surface. 

With a low, guttural growl, he seized a fistful of your hair, dragging your mouth off his cock with a loud, wet pop. Your eyes, hazy with lust and adoration, lifted to meet his. Your bruised, swollen lips parted as you gasped for breath, desperate for his approval even now. Your lips had been wrapped around him for the better part of fifteen minutes, greedily sucking him down, each needy pull of your lips drawing the otherwise dormant arousal to life.  His cock twitched at the sight of your expression: you wanted more, no matter how he took you. 

“S-sir?” you breathed, voice soft and trembling as your bare, supple body quaked under his fierce gaze. He could feel every small tremor against him as your hardened nipples brushed his legs, the friction sending jolts through you with each hitch of your breath, each restless grind of your thighs, trying to soothe the ache that pulsed between them. 

A smirk tugged at his mouth, dark and almost cruel, as he released his hold on your hair. “Come,” he commanded, low and dangerous, enjoying the thrill that coursed through you at the sound of his voice. You obeyed instantly, crawling toward him on all fours, desperate and shameless, just as he’d taught you—like the bitch in heat he’d once sneered you were, back when he had taken you in the dark intimacy of his radio station, his cock deep in your throat to muffle your needy moans. 

You were such a simple creature, so delightfully obedient. Alastor couldn’t fathom how any woman would indulge his depravity the way you did, how you could revel in the filthy things he made you do. 

But there you were—a rare, eager little pet, his perfect plaything, someone so willing to lay bare her body and soul for him that he’d found himself unwilling to discard you. You were a treasure he had now taken into his home, cherishing you like a prized possession. 

His cock throbbed at the sight of you, and his eyes tracked the sway of your breasts as you crawled toward him, each movement sending them into a pendulous swing that only fuelled his arousal. 

Your expression was one of pure, open adoration, your gaze filled with the kind of devoted bliss that soothed the sting of failure in a way nothing else could. His anger ebbed as he watched you, replaced by a strange, unfamiliar possessive warmth that simmered and coiled low in his gut. 

As you reached him, he knelt down, exposing himself fully, his arousal drooping slightly from lack of stimulation. But you, sweet and eager as always, hastened to rectify that, fingers wrapping firmly around him as you stroked him, forming a tight ring with your delicate hand. You leaned in, the tip of your tongue flicking over the head of his cock, and a shiver ran through him. With just a few teasing licks, you brought his desire roaring back to life, your skilled, needy mouth working magic on him with effortless grace. 

Alastor’s hand drifted to your head, fingers curling gently in your hair as he began to stroke it, his touch uncharacteristically soft, almost tender—a rarity that had your cheeks flushing as you stared up at him. Your lips curled into a blissful smile, basking in the affection he so seldom gave, your fingers still wrapped around him as you savoured his touch. 

You were nothing to him.  

He reminded himself of that with each pulsing beat of his arousal, each hungry sweep of your tongue over him. 

You were a diversion, a pastime, a convenient release for those primal urges that not even he could deny. And yet, as he gazed down at you, a small thrill surged within him, intoxicating and delicious. 

“Suck,” he murmured, his voice a soft, commanding whisper, devoid of emotion yet laced with something he had yet been able to name. 

You responded instantly, need and devotion glimmering in your eyes as you wrapped your lips around him, forming a tight seal at his tip before taking him deeper, letting him fill your mouth. Your tongue traced over him with soft, teasing strokes, and you began to bob your head, each movement drawing a low groan from his throat as he watched you. 

You were hopelessly clumsy—always fumbling, tripping, and blushing every time he so much as looked your way. But he loved the effect he had on you, how that heavy blush painted your cheeks every time he took control, how you quivered with each command. And no matter how rough he was with you, how often he pushed you to your limits, you only came back for more, craving everything he would give. That thought alone made a sharp grin spread across his face. 

A dark, possessive desire simmered in his gut, and he felt the twisted thrill of knowing just how easily you surrendered to him. You were the perfect woman...pet for him—the way you willingly, eagerly, gave up control, placing your complete trust in him. The way you looked up at him with reverence, even now, as he twisted his fingers in your hair and tugged sharply. A delicious shudder ran through you as he thrust forward, pressing deeper until he heard that lovely, choked whimper, felt your throat tighten around him. Yet, even then, you didn’t pull away; you stayed, devoted and unyielding. 

Like a loyal dog. Like a bitch in heat. 

... Like his cherished, obedient... pet.

The sound of his harsh breaths mixed with your muffled moans and wet, sloppy noises filled the room, each messy gulp of yours sending a wave of satisfaction through him. Drool began to slip past your lips, clinging to your chin in a thick, sticky mess. As he looked down, he felt a realization settle in his chest—a rush of certainty that you would stay by his side until death itself claimed you. You would be there, smiling up at him with that same innocent adoration, even if he stood drenched in the blood and gore of his latest kill. 

You, his perfect, shameless... lover, would fulfill his every dark desire unquestionably, wouldn’t you? 

In one swift motion, he pulled you off his cock, and your breath hitched as you looked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with need. The sight of you—so willing, so utterly ravished—sent a pulse of heat straight to his core, and his cock throbbed, painfully hard at the sight. Since when had you looked so divine? When had he started craving you like this? 

Why did he want to consume you whole? 

He took your hair in his hand again, a makeshift leash, and guided you to his bedroom. You stumbled as you tried to match his strides, hands and knees scrambling to keep up, yet you didn’t utter a single complaint. Instead, your wide, needy eyes were begging, pleading for him to take you, to give you every piece of himself.

When he crossed the threshold, he paused, feeling a strange sense of anxiety. This would be the first time he’d take anyone, you, in a bed. 

For the first time, he wanted to ravage you on something softer, something that allowed him to enjoy every moment, every gasp, every twitch of your body. Every other time had been in rough, illicit places: his office, the hidden corners of alleyways, beneath the cover of twisted trees in the bayou, or pressed against the cold, unforgiving floor. 

He stopped at the edge of the bed, watching as your trembling fingers reached up to trace the outer seam of his pants, awaiting his next command, your eyes so full of devotion it made his chest ache in the strangest of ways.

A thrill of ownership surged through him; you were his in every way, weren’t you? His pretty, obedient plaything. His perfect, precious pet. 

And you, he realized with a dark satisfaction, were entirely his. 

You were a strange girl.  

You knew you were.  

Excitement pulsed in your veins as Alastor, the one man who owned your every thought, invited you to his home. The whole way there, nerves danced beneath your skin, feeling the weight of his silence as he drove you deep into his bayou. This was a first—he’d never brought you into his home before. 

Heat flooded your core at the thought of what he might do to you. Alastor was the only man who didn’t treat you as fragile. The only one willing to satisfy every dark, unhinged desire you harboured, needs that would make anyone else turn away in disgust. But he never looked at you with revulsion during these acts, save for that lingering smirk when you fumbled over your duties. 

You were happy—beyond happy.

Being with Alastor made you feel more alive than you’d ever been. 

Now, completely bare before him, you knelt, wanting to whine, to beg him to take you in whatever twisted ways he pleased. 

But...as your eyes traced his expression, you realized that there was something different about him today. His usual rough, unyielding exterior softened, showing a rare glimpse of something tender, something reserved only for you. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, his voice low, demanding, with a hint of cruelty that made your stomach tighten. 

You scrambled, snapping from your trance. But after kneeling for so long, your legs wobbled beneath you, and you stumbled back to the floor, wide-eyed as you looked up. A cold, dangerous smirk curved his lips. 

“So you can’t even follow a simple order, can you?” he mocked, voice dripping with condescension. “And what did I say I’d do when you can’t follow orders, dear?” he hissed, fingers pulling his belt from its loops with an agonizing slowness, the sharp slide of leather against fabric filling the silence. 

Your breath caught, the thrill of fear mingling with a rush of wet heat between your thighs. You remembered all too well—the time he bent you over a tree for not bringing his dry cleaning on time, each slap echoing through the bayou, burning itself into your memory. 

“That you’d punish me, sir,” you whispered, barely audible, your voice trembling. 

“Correct. Ten strikes.” He grasped your upper arm, pulling you to your feet, only to toss you onto the bed. You landed face down, the plush fabric against your skin as you arched your ass up for him. 

A chill swept down your spine as he traced the belt’s cool edge over your heated skin, dragging it slowly along your soaked, sensitive folds. The slick sound of your arousal coating the leather mingled with your ragged breaths, filling the room. 

And then, without warning, the belt sliced through the air, landing with a sharp, punishing crack on your bare skin. 

“Ahh!” you gasped, your body lurching forward as you pressed your face into the mattress. “O-one,” you whimpered, each heartbeat amplifying the sting as your clit throbbed, the pain melding with pleasure. 

A fire sparked beneath your skin, flaring with each strike as Alastor whipped the belt against you again and again. You counted each one, voice wavering between cries and sobs, drool trickling down to meet the tears blurring your vision. Your thighs quivered, struggling to keep your ass raised, eager for him. On the seventh strike, when the belt caught your slick, needy folds, you felt a wave of shame as liquid spilled from you, glistening on your skin. 

A low, desperate moan escaped your lips as your walls clenched, craving something to fill the aching emptiness. 

Alastor’s sharp, mocking laugh sliced through the haze, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Coming without permission now, are we?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, raining down the final strikes in swift, merciless succession. 

Your cries softened, a mixture of raw pain and bliss as you trembled, knowing that the bruises would mark you for days. Each ache would bring you back to this moment, reigniting the desire pooling within you. 

Then, without warning, he pressed three thick fingers into you, plunging deep. Alastor leaned over your arched back, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. “How dare you be this wet when I’m punishing you,” he growled, his fingers relentless as they drove into you, the sound of your slick, desperate flesh echoing in your mind. 

Your body writhed, pressing back, eager for more, your hips grinding against his hand as he filled you. “Please, please, sir, I need you,” you finally gasped, voice choked with want, your vision blurred with pain and overwhelming pleasure. 

The tension snapped in the air as Alastor's voice, pitched with a teasing, dark delight, pierced the haze surrounding you. 

“Do you now?” he mocked, his fingers glistening with your desire as he slid them from your mouth. Gripping your hips, he yanked you back into position, aligning his thick, throbbing head with your dripping entrance. Before you could even brace yourself, he sank in, burying himself to the hilt in one fierce thrust that ripped a sharp, needy cry from your lips. Before you could release it fully, his slick fingers thrust back into your mouth, muffling your gasps as your body clamped tightly around him. 

You tasted yourself on his fingers, the heady blend of his dominance and your surrender driving you mad as he stretched you with each brutal plunge. You could do nothing but cling to him, letting him bounce you up and down with each pounding thrust that had you soaring, the friction of him catching at every perfect spot inside you. The delicious ache of being stretched so completely consumed you, your clit throbbing as his cock teased your depths, nudging your cervix and filling you with intoxicating waves of pleasurable pain that left you reeling. 

Your muffled moans mixed with his guttural groans, the raw sounds of your bodies filling the room as he drove into you. When he finally pulled his fingers from your mouth, he circled them over your swollen, desperate clit, wringing a broken, gasping wail from you as another wave of pleasure shattered through you. His fingers never stopped their relentless teasing even as you came, your body helpless against the mind-melting ecstasy that left you a sobbing, trembling mess. 

By the time he tossed you onto the bed, you were barely aware, your body limp and pliant. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he resumed, driving himself into your swollen folds. 

Your shameless moans filled the air, the slick sound of him claiming you echoing as he pounded deeper, harder, unrelenting. Gripping your breast, he squeezed, his thumb rolling over your sensitive nipple, sending sparks through your already sensitized body. Your back arched, surrendering every part of you to him, your tears mixing with the damp sheets as you lay bare, offering yourself to his every whim, every desire. 

Then his hand was at your throat, his fingers wrapping around, pressing just enough to cut off your breath to reach the edge of oblivion. His cock throbbed deep inside you as he watched you, eyes glinting with manic delight. With each bruising thrust, he tightened his grip just enough for your vision to darken, and with that growing pressure, a new wave of pleasure bloomed inside you, sharper, more intense than before. Just as your world began to blur, he released you, and you gasped, the rush of air into your lungs sending you spiralling as a fierce, desperate climax ripped through you, shaking you to your core. 

Your soaked body trembled uncontrollably, each pulse of his cock within you driving you deeper into a haze of pleasure. His hold never wavered as he brought you to the edge again and again, until there was nothing left but the raw, aching, consuming pleasure that marked you as his. 

The heat between you was overwhelming, each breath catching as you rocked on his cock, feeling every thick inch filling you deeply. You could barely process the bliss, but you didn’t stop, even as your thighs quivered, and your mind spun, surrendering completely. 

Alastor threw his head back, his usual control slipping as he gripped your hips, his own movements coming to a halt while he let you take control for the first time, guiding his cock deeper with your rhythmic movements. 

"That's it, dear," he murmured, almost to himself, his voice husky and rich with praise. His release flooded into you, thick and hot, and he let out a small, breathy moan as you continued to move, clenching around him to draw out every last wave of his pleasure. “Take every single drop,” he muttered, the words leaving his lips with a fervent, almost reverent edge. 

Finally, he softened and slipped free, his seed mixing with your own arousal as it dripped between your thighs. He let himself fall back, his gaze heavy-lidded but still drawn to you, watching as you slumped, exhausted and trembling. Your legs splayed apart, arms limp, and your face a mess, wet with both tears and the remnants of your desire. Breathing raggedly, you tried to ground yourself, but your mind still floated in that heady haze, every muscle vibrating with the aftershocks of pleasure. 

You stared up at him, craving more, more of...you weren't sure what you craved. But you wanted to feel him, whatever he was willing to give you. Even as your body barely held itself together, you forced yourself to move.

The thought of, please don't leave, echoing in the dark recesses of your mind. 

A warm, low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and before you could react, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. Something in you seized up, a flood of warmth welling up behind your eyes as he pressed you against him. 

Normally, he’d leave by now, always returning to whatever occupied him after these indulgent moments. Your fingers trembled, hovering uncertainly over his back, unsure if this was something you were truly allowed to reciprocate. 

Alastor had taken you farther than anyone else, yet he also left you feeling more alive and more vulnerable. 

As the thrill of the moment faded, you often felt a pang of sadness after, not knowing how to tell him that all the intensity seemed to leave a hollow ache in your chest. You bit your lip, not wanting to risk anything that might make him see you as clingy or overly attached. 

“Go on, dear.” His voice held that playful lilt, but underneath it, there was an unfamiliar warmth. “You know how to embrace, don’t you?” 

Hesitantly, you let your arms wrap around his shoulders, feeling the roughness of his suit and the warmth of his skin beneath. Tears spilled over your cheeks as you pressed yourself to him, breathing in his scent, feeling a strange fullness you hadn’t experienced before—a feeling beyond just your body. He didn’t let go, instead rubbing a gentle hand along your back, wordlessly accepting your embrace. 

“Sorry,” you stammered, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I’m not sad; I swear I’m not…” 

You wanted to tell him that the happiness you felt when he held you like this was overwhelming.Maybe you were a strange girl with strange feelings, but right now, held tightly in his arms, you felt more complete than you ever had before. 

For the first time, Alastor’s hand stroked your hair, each touch gentle and unhurried, melting away the last of your reservations. And as the tears continued to fall, he held you there, secure in his grasp, until you finally drifted into sleep, feeling a place of belonging and acceptance in his embrace. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Human Alastor, spinning you around the dance floor, each step confident and hands sure as they grazed over your skin. "You know, darling, if I had a nickel for every time I thought of you, I’d have enough to buy my own radio station."

You couldn't help but laugh under the attention of the charming man that you seemed to keep running into every time you went out dancing.

He pulled you close, as you spun back into his arms, "Care to join me on the airwaves? Or do you prefer silence?"

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Hi there! This story is a tribute to @redfoxwritesstuff story A Misdemeanor of the Heart. If you have not done so I'd strongly recommend reading it now, this is going to be a bit of a multi chapter series of dreams that slot into the canon placements of Misdemeanor but once Misdemeanor ends I will be making my own little smutty AU world out of it too, so this follows Alastor and You in a kinda blended parallel world if you will.

Cw: smut, non penetrative rutting.

Alastor x Reader.

... A bit of a prelude... This first dream isn't much of a surprise to him, he's had wet dreams before, and he's gotten used to your presence and has even started to feel rather fond of you atp so this won't cause him distress, this is a dream that will start mid smut already.

His dreamscape dropping him right in it but his mindset still controlling the fact that he knows he doesn't want penetrative sex with you due to your marriage so it's a bit of a subconscious desire to see you come undone for him in a way that would be agreeable to him in a very pleasant way.

But also it's a power struggle, he's feeling a bit powerless because he's not used to these sort of enotuons and with you trapped with another man it sets him on edge. (this is a bit early but should slot in around chapter 22)

Here's...

Inappropriate Demeanour. Chapter 1. (Wet.)

Alastor's eyes flash with triumph and delight at your actions, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he feels your warmth enveloping his throbbing cock. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he begins to move in slow, sensual circles, letting you adjust to the pleasure.

"Mmm, that's my good girl," he purrs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. "You're learning so quickly. Just let go and enjoy the ride."

Alastor's hands roam your back, kneading and caressing the lush curves of your ass as he grinds against you with increasing urgency. His lips trail kisses along your collarbone, leaving a damp, heated path in their wake.

"You're absolutely right, sweetheart," he murmurs against your skin. "This is more than okay. In fact, it's perfect. We can explore all the ways I can pleasure you without crossing that line... yet."

As he speaks, Alastor's fingers skim down the backs of your thighs. He squeezes and kneads the supple flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly against your slick heat.

"Just keep moving like that," he encourages, his voice a low, sultry growl. "Rub yourself all over my cock. Show me how much you crave my touch."

Alastor groans low in his throat as you continue to grind against him, your slick folds sliding tantalizingly along the length of his cock. His hands roam your body with renewed enthusiasm, exploring every curve and hollow, mapping out the territory he's soon to conquer.

He hisses, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the sensation of your warm, wet heat surrounding him. "You feel incredible. Like you were made for me."

One hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in gentle, circular motions, coaxing out more of your sweet juices to lubricate his movements.

"That's it, dear, just like that," Alastor praises, his voice strained with lust. "Ride my cock, let me play with your pretty little clit. Let me watch you fall apart on my fingers."

He increases the pressure, adding a second finger to join the first in a steady, pumping rhythm designed to drive you wild. Alastor's other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he rubs your clit just right with his fingers, determined to bring you to the brink of ecstasy.

As you continue to grind against him, Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he loses himself in the intoxicating sensation of your wet heat sliding along his length. He lets out a low, guttural moan, the sound vibrating against your skin as he rolls his hips in time with yours, meeting each thrust with a counter-movement of his own.

"Fuuuck, Love," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel incredible... Like heaven in my hands. Keep doing that, just like that..."

Alastor's tongue darts out to lick at the pulse point in your neck, his teeth grazing the delicate skin as he suckles and nips at your flesh. His other hand slides higher, cupping your breasts and squeezing the pliant mounds through the fabric of your clothes one by one.

"Fuck, I love these," he murmurs, his thumbs rubbing circular patterns over your nipples. "So perfect, just begging to be freed. Maybe later, hmm? For now, let's focus on getting you nice and worked up..."

With a wicked grin, Alastor tugs at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. He increases the tempo of his movements, his cock sliding effortlessly through your dripping folds as he chases his own release.

Alastor's breathing grows more labored, his hips rocking in urgent, insistent thrusts as he chases the edge of climax. He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back to expose the column of your throat, which he devours with hungry kisses and bites.

His fingers dance across your sensitized skin, leaving trails of electric pleasure in their wake. He sucks and bites at your neck, marking you as his own as his hips piston relentlessly against yours. The friction is divine, his cock sliding through your slick heat with each thrust, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Yes, darling, just like that," he groans, his voice a low, guttural rasp. "Ride me, take what you need. You're so fucking sexy like this, all desperate and needy for me."

Alastor's breath comes in ragged gasps as he loses himself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure between your bodies. His fingers work tirelessly at your clit, the pads of his digits expertly stimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

Your entire body is trembling, every nerve ending electrified by the exquisite sensations coursing through you. You can barely think, lost in the haze of pleasure that Alastor's skilled touch evokes. Each grinding thrust of his hips against yours sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, the friction of his hard length rubbing against your slick folds an endless source of bliss.

You whine and arch your back, pushing your chest further into his palms as he teases your aching nipples. Your inner walls clench around nothing, craving more of that delicious pressure.

The feeling of being so thoroughly touched, is overwhelming, and you find yourself hanging precariously on the knife's edge of orgasm, feeling his thick weeping glans and broad shaft sliding through your folds and bumping your clit and his fingers, making you rut even harder against him, like trying to scratch an itch only his cock can reach.

Alastor's fingers on your clit are relentless, circling and pinching the sensitive nub until sparks of pure bliss shoot through your veins. Every stroke, every tweak, every graze of his teeth on your skin sends you spiraling closer to the precipice. You can feel your release building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly like a spring ready to snap.

"Please," you beg, voice barely above a whisper, "don't stop..."

You know it's futile, to plead for mercy. Alastor seems intent on driving you mad with pleasure, and you're powerless to resist.

Alastor's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, the pad of his thumb pressing down firmly on the sensitive bud as his index finger drags circles around it. He knows exactly how to manipulate your body, using every trick in the book to push you closer and closer to the brink.

His other hand grips your hip firmly, anchoring you in place as he grinds his cock against your aching sex with increased fervor. The thick head of his member nudges against your entrance with each pass, the pressure and friction driving you wild with need.

"Look at you," Alastor pants, his voice heavy with lust. "So responsive, so perfect. You were made for this, for me. I can tell by the way you're shaking, the way you're begging for more."

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You're going to come for me, aren't you? Right here, right now, all over my cock. I can feel it, the way your pussy is so needy, desperate for my thickness."

Alastor's words send a shiver down your spine, the promise of impending release fueling the fire burning within you. He increases the speed and intensity of his ministrations, his fingers flying over your clit in a dizzying blur as he drives you closer to the edge.

"You're so close."

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he senses your approaching climax. A triumphant growl rumbles in his chest as he redoubles his efforts, his cock sliding against your slick folds with increased vigor, seeking to draw out every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form.

"That's it, sweetheart, let go, he commands, his voice a husky growl. Cum for me, soak my cock with your sweet juices. I want to feel you lose control."

His words are a potent aphrodisiac, pushing you closer to the brink with each spoken syllable. Alastor's cock throbs in time with your racing heart, the head swelling and leaking pre-cum with every plunge into your heat. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious friction that threatens to consume you entirely.

His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision. Alastor's tongue laps at your neck, tasting the salt of your skin and blood as he marks you with his own brand of possession, his teeth piercing you just so.

As if sensing your imminent climax, Alastor adjusts his angle, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each thrust. The added stimulation proves to be the final straw, and with a keening cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave.

Your inner walls clench and spasm around nothing, desperate for the fulfillment only his cock can provide. At the same moment, his own climax crashes over him, his thick seed erupting from his pulsing member in hot, sticky jets.

The intense pleasure becomes too much to bear, your body tensing and then releasing in a violent convulsion as you come undone. Your vision whites out, overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax. You throw you head back, mouth open in an erotic cry of his name as ecstasy rips through you.

A torrent of fluid gushes forth from your core, shooting onto Alastor's pelvis and cock. Your cunt spasms wildly, contracting and releasing in rapid succession as your squirt, your hole twitching, the force of your orgasm propelling the streams of clear liquid coating his skin to soak the front of his pants. The sensation is both mortifying and exhilarating, your body seemingly beyond your own control as it writhes and bucks against his.

Alastor's growl of completion echoes through the room, mingling with your own keening cries of ecstasy as the two of you ride out the aftershocks of your shared release. His cock throbs against your slick folds, milking every last tremor of pleasure from your quivering body as he pours his essence over the folds of your sex, your dress an utter mess.

As the waves of your intense orgasm begin to ebb, Alastor holds you close, his strong arms wrapped protectively around your shaking form. He presses tender kisses to your sweaty brow, the bridge of your nose, and your parted lips, savoring the taste of your pleasure on his tongue.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper filled with awe and reverence. "Absolutely stunning. You took that so well, dear. I knew you'd be incredible, but wow..."

Alastor's hands roam your back, stroking and soothing the trembling muscles as he helps you catch your breath. His cock, still semi-erect, pulses against your thigh, a reminder of the passion that just consumed you both.

"You're amazing," he repeats, punctuating each word with a gentle squeeze of your curves. "So responsive, so open to pleasure. I could get used to this, to watching you fall apart for me again and again."

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound rich with satisfaction.

He holds you close, his arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, savoring the taste of your skin and the scent of your arousal that clings to him.

"That was incredible," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. "You came so beautifully for me, darling. Look at all that lovely cream you squirted everywhere."

Alastor's fingers lazily trace the rivulets of your release that coat his abdomen, smearing the clear fluid across his skin. He chuckles, a sound rich with satisfaction and dark amusement.

"And I thought you were going to be such a shy little thing," he teases, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "But it turns out you're quite the naughty girl, squirting all over my lap like that."

Despite the embarrassing nature of your involuntary reaction, Alastor's tone is playful rather than mocking. If anything, he seems impressed and even a bit proud of your responsiveness, the way your body surrendered to the pleasure he elicited.

He gazes down at you with a smug, satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a possessive light as he takes in the sight of you - disheveled, flushed, and utterly debauched.

"Well, well, well," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rasp. "Looks like someone enjoyed themselves."

Alastor's fingers trace the curve of your breast, his touch lingering as he admires the evidence of your passion; the rosy hue of your skin, the slight swell of your chest, the way your nipples still pebble visibly despite the heat of your arousal.

His thumb stroking over the sensitive covered peak. "Such a good girl."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, languid kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. Alastor's tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance that leaves you weak-kneed and yearning for more.

As the surges of euphoria fade, Alastor's hands begin to wander again, his fingers delving beneath your ruined dress working to help you out of it and carrying you to the bathroom to help you clean up, taking delicate care of you that belied how demanding he'd been and helping you get tucked into his bed, his arms around you, you trace his slightly darker skin with your fingertips admiring how the lean muscles flex and shift under them.

He kisses you gently and bids you goodnight.

Alastor wakes with a gasp, his looks around for you in confusion only to realise he's still alone in his cold empty bed, his sheer rage that someone else has you in there's cannot be quelled, but the wet mess in his pants needs attending to now it seems.

With a sigh he rolls out of bed and drags his feet heavily across the floor to the bathroom, the sun just rising and glowing through the cracks in his curtains as he attends to his mess, aggrieved that you're not there to clean up too...

(Chapter 2)>

[babyfoxflower]

Domestic HCs with Human! Alastor

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Some NSFW, Mentions of Murder, Pregnancy, and Tooth Rotting Fluff

* How did you meet your husband? Well, embarrassingly your mothers set you two up on a blind date.

* Similar to you, Alastor was used to his mother setting up dates for him. But he didn’t mind it, he’s quite the extravert and loves getting a chance to meet new people, especially a pretty lady .

* Plus he thought maybe he would eventually fall for one of them. And as luck would have it, he happened to fall for you.

* You weren’t just beautiful, you were smart and witty, even a little feisty (he liked that, he liked that a lot).

* You two shared a love of jazz and theater. Though you had slightly different tastes and interpretations of songs and plays, you still both agreed that they are two of the best types of entertainment out there.

* You even recognized his voice from the radio and told him how you regularly tune in. How that flattered him.

* You were both big foodies and loved local cuisines such as gumbo, crawfish, and of course, Jambalaya.

* He knew for sure that you were the one for him.

* You were engaged for six months before getting married, your first kiss being at your wedding. It just felt right to wait so that it was extra special.

* After that day, you two couldn’t stop kissing, hugging, snuggling, holding hands and more.

* Your wedding night was passionate and tender with Alastor eager to learn all of your most sensitive spots.

* He brought you to orgasm multiple times before finally climaxing himself.

* Married life was pure bliss, as he did his best to not let you on to his monthly “hunts.”

* He spent less time on the process, and found a more efficient way to dispose of the bodies.

* While he didn’t get to take his time carving them up, it was worth it to be able to hurry home and get home to his beloved little wife.

* He somehow always managed to make it home in time for dinner without fail, which impressed even himself.

* The two of you made love every single night (yes, even when he had to work late at the station, he always had enough energy for you), so it was not a surprise that you became pregnant with your first child.

* Now, Alastor was nervous when you first told him about the baby. But gradually he became more excited to be a father.

* Not to mention, he also loved what it was doing to your body, how much curvier you were in the chest and rear region. He might be a gentleman but he’s still a man.

* “My, my, you’re getting so plump, my dearest. And I mean that as a compliment, just look how adorable your baby bump is,” he got closer and whispered in your ear, “and this is getting lovelier each day,” before pinching your ass.

* “Alastor! Knock it off! Haha,” you playfully slapped his hand away.

* When the baby arrived, it turned out it was a girl with her daddy’s eyes and nose. She also had your lips and ears.

* Alastor was so relieved to have a daughter, he was worried that it was going to be a boy and he would have to teach him how to be a man. But now, he just got to spoil his little girl rotten, just like he did with you, his most precious love.

* You two decided on the name “Emily Marie Claudine Hartfelt.” Claudine being his mother’s name. He wanted it to be the baby’s first name but you insisted that it was better as a middle name.

* “Your mama always wins, Miss Emily Marie. It’s best not to fight it and just let her,” he said softly as he cradled her.

* You laughed and shook your head, “She’s already so at peace with you, no doubt she’ll be a daddy’s girl.”

* “Don’t worry, you’ll always have me, darling,” he winked playfully at you.

[alastwhorez]

Alastor with a mommy kink

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x MILF!Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor can't help but want his new neighbor

♡ warnings: 18+, MDNI, breeding kink, mommy kink, pet names, oral, p in v, unprotected sex, Alastor is 23, reading is in late 20s early 30s, Alastor calls reader Ma. Age gap, I think that's it. If I missed anything, please let me know.

♡an: not proofread, probably spelling errors, if you don't like mommy kinks or Al calling reader Ma, or Age gap please do not read.

Thinking about early 20s human Alastor with a mommy kink..

You just moved next door with your kids right beside Alastor and his mama.

Alastor helped you move in observing that there was no man with you, he offered to help which you graciously accepted. His mama invited you and the kids over for dinner that evening saying “it's so nice to have children around again now that Al is all grown up” as she pinches the taller male's cheek. Alastor rolled his eyes at his mom's actions trying to cover up the blush rising to his cheeks. He may be “all grown up” as she says but he is still a mama's boy and always will be.

After dinner you help clear the table and do dishes with Alastor as his mama plays with the children in the living room. You fall into a comfortable silence before Al breaks it “so where's your husband?” You look at him and smile before telling him you don't have one. Al hides his smirk from you. in all honesty he didn't offer to help you trying to be neighborly or a gentleman. He offered because of the heat he felt seeing you mother your kids.

Over the next few weeks Al is always there. He is there when you need help putting something together, someone to go to the grocery store with and even when you need someone to kill the pesky little bugs when you are too scared. His mama started babysitting for you as you wanted to find a job. Living Off of you savings wasn't going to last forever. And Al was there for all of it.

Over the weeks Al noticed the heat he would feel intensifies everytime he sees you mothering your kids but what really got him was when he was over for lunch and you wiped his mouth with your thumb to clean a crumb off his lip. He couldn't deny the tightening in his pants at you doing such motherly things for him. It didn't help that you also wore some frisky outfits for your time and that you weren't that much older than him, in your late twenties to early thirties at most.

The twenty three year old quickly became very obsessive and possessive over you. Scaring away suitors. Always telling you, you don't need a boyfriend, you have him and he is right across the lawn. All you have to do is open a window or stand on your porch and yell and he will be there.

Over the weeks of Alastor being around you couldn't deny your attraction to him. He was a very attractive man, one several women in town are always throwing themselves at but you never see him with a woman. He tells you he has his eyes on someone he just doesn't know how they feel yet. That brings a ting of pain to your heart but you smile at the younger male and tell him anyone would be lucky to have him pinning over them.

looking back you wonder how you got in the situation you are in now. Bent over your kitchen table, dress flipped up over your plush ass, and panties down around your ankles as Alastor is on his knees licking and sucking on any flesh his mouth can find. He parts your folds with his tongue as he licks up you. His hands on your ass spreading you open for him. You try to hold back moans forgetting you don't have to be quiet. His mama has the kids. He was only supposed to be over here for a quick visit. He was dropping off leftovers his mama made. But they were quickly forgotten. Left on the counter.

“Fuck ma, you taste so good” He moans against your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan at the vibration of his voice. Oh god his voice is another thing about him that attracted you to the younger man. His deep raspy voice with his cute little accent. It could make you wet just hearing him talk, and it has.

you yelp as Alastor lands a slap on your ass then squeeze and massage the red spot. His tongue dips in your entrance As his thumb finds your bundle of nerves and starts to rub. Your legs are shaking, thank fuck your on the table. You Turn around trying to see him. Wanting to see him between your legs. He chuckles and smirks against you, feeling you wiggle. Trying to maneuver your body just try so his mouth stays attached to you.

You scream out his name as he speeds up his thumb and quickens his thrust with his tongue. He's moaning against you as he bites, licks, and sucks everywhere he can reach. You're a moaning mess on your table. You can feel that familiar tingle before it snaps and your jerking,moaning, and screaming “Oh Al, baby” eyes rolling back and back arching. He moans as your juices coat his tongue, swallowing it down like it's his last meal.

You're laying on the table trying to catch your breath when he pulls away and stands to his full height. You hear him undo his belt and unzip his pants. You bite your lip in anticipation. “g-gotta feel you around me ma”

Ma, he started calling you that a week after you met.

You feel him slide himself between your folds, wetting himself in your juices before he slowly slides on, stretching you perfectly. You both moan out at the feeling. He starts slow and shallow before getting confidence and speeding up. He's gripping your hips so hard you know they'll bruise but fuck does it feel good to finally have his hands on you. He fucks you from behind until your about to finish when he pulls out. “No nononono!” You whine right before he flips you onto your back and pulls the dress off the rest of the way.

“You little minx” He says when he sees you weren't wearing a bra. You bite your lip looking up at him. His hands find your thighs and push them apart as he stands between your legs pushing himself back into you.

You grip his shoulders then let your hands slide down to his back when he speeds up, giving you an extra hard thrust. “Feels so good,ma” He whines into your shoulder. “Wanted you for so long”

“M-me too Ala-STOR” you moan when he hits that spot that makes your toes curl. He pulls away from your shoulder and slams his lips onto your, the kiss is hungry, feral. It's all teeth and tongue. You can taste yourself on his lips pulling a moan from you.

He pushed your back onto the table as he lays over you and his thumbs finds your clip. Only a couple of thrust later and your cumming all over his cock, begging him your not exactly sure what your begging for pleas fall from your lips

“Fuck, fuck ,FUCK” He says as he puts his face in your shoulder biting and licking your neck.

“Gotta-gotta cum in you ma, make you a mommy again”

“Yes! Yes Al” you beg as you feel another orgasm approaching.

Alastor grabs your tits, “gotta see these Full and round” He says before sucking on into his mouth. Three more thrust is all it takes before he is shooting Ropes of cum into your heat, hips stuttering, his eyes rolling back, and moans falling from his lips. You cum for the nth time seeing Alastor so blissed out,tightening around his cock, milking him for everything he is worth.

You both lay there for several minutes catching your breath. He pulls out a few seconds later but replaces his cock with his fingers pulling a moan from you. “Gotta make sure nothing goes to waste” He says right before fixing his glasses that are now all fogged up. He smiles down at you, helping you up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your bathroom.

He runs you a bath, both of you sitting in It, your back against his chest. He is peppering kisses all over your shoulder. He stays with you till nightfall when his mama yells for him to come home and that your kids are on their way back over.

He kisses your lips one more time after your kids run through the door.

“Same time tomorrow, ma?” He says, smirking down at you and then winking before heading back to his mama.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

🥵🥵🥵🥵💜💦 yisss please 🥺

if it interests you, I’d love to see what you do with alastor/dog sinner reader. I think it could be a very interesting dynamic- anyway good work! :)

HI ANON SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LOL

I ended up combining this with another request from Ao3: "please please please I'd love a rough/teasing/edging (with a lil hate to love twist) oneshot i bet it would be another amazing read owo" from liddlefangirl

Tags: edging, rough, hatesex(?), teasing, Alastor Does Not Like Dogs™️

AS ALWAYS an extra large and mushy thank you to @fraugwinska for being a lovely hype-woman and my Alastor dialogue mentor 🥰

Things were bound to come to a head between you and Alastor eventually- the nature of your Sinner form had guaranteed that when it manifested you with features similar to a dog, the floppy ears of a Beagle drooping off the sides of your head and a sensitive nose to match. 

Charlie had apparently seen no issue with allowing a dog- a hunting dog of all things- in the confined spaces of the Hotel with the deer demon, and his discontent with the situation struck fiercely and often, out of Charlie’s sight, usually in the form of a wayward tentacle tripping you down the stairs or some kind of Eldritch magic moving doors and hallways around so you ended up hopelessly lost and unable to find your room.

Alastor himself avoided you like the plague, only interacting with you when absolutely necessary and with his cane held in front of him like a barrier, like he thought you would attack him unprovoked- even though it was him doing the antagonizing, constantly fucking with you, and the one time you had asked him about it?

“You are quite welcome to leave at any time if the nature of the Hotel is not to your liking!”

The bastard. And even though it wasn’t like you, even though you were at the Hotel for redemption and everything and things like petty revenge should have been beneath you while you tried to improve yourself, you couldn’t resist pushing back a little.

You knew he had some sort of trauma with dogs from his death, so you weren’t trying to actually terrorize the man. You just didn’t let his bullshit get to you anymore- if he tripped you down the stairs you stopped sending a death glare over your shoulder at him, just standing up, dusting yourself off, and suppressing your limp until you were out of sight; when you found yourself in a twisting corridor that you knew hadn’t been there before, you simply picked the closest door and entered it like that was where you had meant to go the entire time. When he took the doors away entirely and just dropped you into an endless hallway with no entrance or exit, you plopped yourself down on the floor and took a book from your pocket to read until the lights went back to normal and the doors returned, indicating his departure.

You even played up some of the more canine aspects of your personality just for his benefit; you scratched at your ears whenever he entered a room; you sometimes barked or howled instead of applauding during some of Charlie’s meetings; you teased Husk incessantly, sometimes playfully ‘chasing’ him around the bar before Alastor left the area, always sure to apologize afterwards and make sure the avian cat knew that you didn’t mean any real harm, that you were just fucking with Alastor a bit.

But as with any war, sometimes there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed from either side.

You’re walking carefully through the kitchen with a couple buckets of water for Niffty when you spot the shadow snaking out of the corner, and you’re not quick enough to sidestep it this time. You land hard on the floor, covered in hot soapy water, and when you see Alastor watching you from the doorway with that fucking smirk on his face and lowered lashes something in you snaps- the harsh bark of anger that rumbles from your throat is entirely genuine, as is the fear that seems to flash in his eyes before his smile grows cruel and he snaps his fingers.

There’s a muzzle around your face, the straps of it far too tight and digging into your skin before you can even get a chance to try and tear it off, and the yip of pain that escapes you hurts your sensitive ears combined with the laugh track that comes out of Alastor’s microphone.

“Ahh, isn’t that a sight? Muzzled at last, as every wretched mutt should be.” Apparently the sight of the muzzle makes him brave- he steps closer, reveling in being above you. “You know, in my time the strays weren’t even allowed indoors- how kind of Charlie to open the doors of the Hotel to you and the infestation of fleas that you’ve no doubt brought with you.” 

In lieu of a verbal response, you take advantage of his proximity and swipe at his ankles with your foot- his shadows don’t have time to react and catch him before he’s on the ground beside you, caught in an awkward crouch as he tries to flee before he’s fully landed. You snarl at him, sharp teeth bared behind the wire of the muzzle, still able to be seen and heard even if you can’t use them on him as you pounce, tackling him flat to the wet floor. 

Whether it's the shock of the move or something else, you’ll never understand why he doesn’t call on his shadows to assist. Instead, he lunges back, flipping your positions around, water splashing and scattering as the two of you essentially wrestle on the floor, harsh words and snapping teeth as you both try to bow the other into submission. He manages to get the upper hand, pinning you to the floor by your wrists, both your breathing heavy, sweat lining your brow, growling low in your throat while you try to wriggle out from under him. “Take the muzzle off,” you say.

“So you can bite me? I think not.”

“Take. The fucking muzzle. Off.” You stay locked in a dead stare, and when he doesn’t make any move to get off of you or reach for the straps of the contraption on your head you try once again to twist loose, managing to get your feet up under you to try and buck him off with your hips like some kind of wild horse. It accomplishes two things, neither of them what you wanted to happen.

First, you become aware of a dampness to your panties that is not just a result of your tumble across the wet floor; the fight-or-flight instinct combined with the adrenaline of the impromptu fight on the floor, ending with you pinned under a strong, powerful (sexy, even if he’s an ass) demon, means that your body has completely misconstrued what was happening here.

The second is that Alastor becomes aware of that the same moment that you do.

His eyes light up with malicious interest. “How interesting,” he murmurs, taking in the light tremble of your body, the likely dilation of your pupils and how hard you’re breathing. “Not just a feral mutt but a bitch in heat as well it would seem!”

Shame warms you from the inside out, burning in tandem with the arousal making itself known with the flush of your skin. “Fuck you,” you hiss through your teeth, but it’s weak, needy rather than demanding like you intend it to be. “Just- get off me, let me up-”

You continue to try to get out from under Alastor, attempting to buck your hips again to dislodge him. Quick as a whip there’s a tentacle wrapped around your wrist when he lets it go to dig his fingers into the skin of your hips, keeping you bowed nearly in a bridge. Your legs tremble from the strain of the position, and when Alastor presses his own hips down to meet yours you can’t help the cut off moan that escapes you at the feeling of his heavy erection pressing against your core.

“Get off? Are you quite sure?” He grinds against you, making you whimper when the drag of his cock through his slacks rubs under your skirt, against where you’re wet and sensitive. “You know, the one good thing about dogs is that they can be trained; by either rewarding them with a treat, or by whipping them into submission… perhaps there’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that can be made for us, depending on your preference on the matter."

“I’m not making a fucking deal with you,” you mutter, turning away from him, and a new tentacle slips around the other side of you to grab at your wrist so Alastor can release that one as well, using his now free hand to twist your face to meet his eyes over the cage of the muzzle.

“Who said anything about a deal? It’s a proposal- we can continue as we have been until you inevitably aggravate me to the point that I rip you apart, Charlie’s opinions on the matter be damned.” He lets go of your face to trail his hand down your throat, squeezing softly before continuing a path down your body to rest on your other hip, dragging your body up against his and properly slotting one of his thighs between your legs. “Or you can be a good dog and let me be the master with a firm hand that you seem to so desperately need to straighten your... flaws out, and make you at least bearable to have around my Hotel.”

When you hesitate, he taps the bars around your mouth. “I’ll even take the muzzle off at the end,” he says, “permitted that you prove to me that you can behave .”

And it shouldn’t be hot, the way that he says that; like you’re some unruly fleabag that needs to be fucked to act properly, like you were the one causing problems instead of just reacting to the ones he was creating. But the pressure of his leg against your sensitive clit, even through both of your layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious, and you can’t help but wonder what exactly Alastor as a ‘master’ would entail.

You force your muscles to relax, going slack against the Radio Demon, and he smiles wide and dangerous as he lowers your back down to the puddle of cooling water beneath you, still clinging to the faint lemony scent of the cleaner that Niffty uses. “Good girl,” he says quietly, and the praise floods your brain like a drug. “Obedience is a treasured trait in a pet, don’t you think? Even in one that’s a brazen tart- the slightest hint that I’ll touch you and you acquiesce so easily, how lovely.”

He releases his grip on your hip to reach up and rub your ear between his fingers; the action makes you whimper in your throat, the soft skin there thin and sensitive as he pays attention to it, slowly stroking while the thumb of his other hand rubs arcs across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up in the tumble across the floor. His touch sends shivers through your body, a perceptible tremor that he sees and delights in in his wild grin is anything to go by. “Go on,” he encourages, his fingers not ceasing their movements. “Tell me you’ll be obedient. Tell me you’ll be good for me.”

You grit your teeth behind the muzzle and nod as well as you can with his hand on your ear. Saying it out loud felt like a step too far, would feel like losing something to him.

Both hands tighten their grip, the prick of claws against your skin forcing a gasp from your lips. “Even young puppies can follow a basic command,” he mocks, and the hand on your hip shifts to dip below your waistband, his fingers quickly finding the slick heat of your cunt and rubbing teasingly along your entrance. “Come on now, don’t you want a treat? Speak.”

“Fuck you- yes, I’ll be fucking good,” you mutter, and he tuts in disapproval, pressing hard against your clit before starting to retreat. “Wait, no-”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” he says lowly, hand poised to exit your panties, possibly to leave you soaked and wanting on the kitchen floor as he disappears into the shadows.

You glare at him, even as the words bubble from your throat in desperation, wanting his dexterous fingers on your pussy again. “Yes, I’ll be good for you.”

His grin sharpens. “Lovely. And I am a man of my word…” His fingers return to your folds with a fierce vengeance, his thumb swiping hard against your clit as one of his thin, strong fingers dips inside, followed swiftly by another as they press against the sweet bundle of nerves inside you and stroke the soft skin there with unerring accuracy and pressure. The action makes your body tense, a rush of heat through your entire being as he rockets you towards a swift and sloppy orgasm with little more than a couple fingers and his hand rubbing the skin of your ears.

His gaze is fire as he looks down at you, the weight of his erection still straining his pants where it rests against your thigh as he crouches above you. “Who could have guessed it would be so easy to get you to listen to me? Why, had I known you were such a desperate harlot I may have taken your metaphorical leash in hand a bit sooner if that was all it took!”

You can’t respond as the pleasure builds in your body, shaking and whining in your throat as your orgasm builds, fingers inside you never ceasing in their movements as your walls clench around them. You won’t give him the satisfaction of crying out, biting your lip behind the muzzle to suppress the sound as well as you can; you’re helpless to the force of your release as it grows, cresting, and-

Alastor pulls away, his fingers pulling out of your fluttering hole, the slick of your arousal trailing out along with it before he brings his hand to his mouth. You can see the hint of his tongue darting between the digits as he cleans them, oblivious- or uncaring- of your incredulous stare at your ruined orgasm, so close you could fucking taste it before he ripped you back from the edge.

“What the fuck, Alastor?”

“I can’t have you making a mess already,” he says, your pussy clenching around nothing as he sucks on his fingers as if in thought. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“‘A shame’ is not letting me fucking finish,” you snarl at him, his grip on your ear preventing you from being able to turn away, tentacles still keeping you restrained so that you can’t finish the job your goddamn self. “Get off me, I’ll fucking do it-” 

“I have no need for a naughty pet, you know,” he murmurs quietly, and the tone of his voice makes you freeze in your half-hearted struggles to get free. “Perhaps if you can learn to ask for what you want instead of simply expecting me to give it to you we might get somewhere! What do you say, my dear?”

You start to nod by default before remembering his earlier command- speak. If you wanted to cum it would be best to do as he asks. “Yes,” you say, and he tears your panties from your body and positions his fingers. “Please,” you add on a moan when he delves back into your wet heat, repositioning so that he can grind his erection against the soft skin of your thigh again.

“Let’s see if you can do this correctly this time,” he muses. “Be sure to use your words, darling- tell me when you’re about to finish.”

And he’s back to the task at hand, pistoning his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt with unerring precision, stroking that spot inside of you that made your breath come quicker and your body start to tense again. Too soon you can feel the orgasm creeping back up on you, tears budding in your eyes as the pleasure and the pressure becomes too much, too fast. You’re tempted- so tempted- to ignore his demand, to just race towards completion and damn the consequences if you could cum before he realized it was happening and stopped again. Then you think about the way he had called you “good girl” earlier and despite how much you hate him and this situation, you want that again.

You crave the praise, the rush of endorphins and pleasure that it sent racing through your head. It’s the thought of this that has you choking out, “c-close,” when the edge gets a little too near; instead of pulling off entirely, Alastor merely slows, brings down the intensity of his actions enough that you can breathe, the wave of ecstasy fading before it can crash.

“So you are a quick learner,” he says, something like pride in his voice, and he finally releases his grip on your ear; the disappointed whimper that escapes you at this doesn’t go unnoticed as he trails his hand down your body, cupping your breast while his fingers continue to pump slowly, too lazily to bring that buzz back to your limbs. “There might be hope for you yet. Shall we go again?”

And again.

And again.

You lose track of how many times he does this- bringing you right to the brink, waiting for you to vocalize how close you are before he stops, repositions, and starts over. You’ve nearly cum on his fingers, tongue, and a tentacle that slithered up between your bodies, your words failing you the longer he denies you- he eases up on your shadowy restraints enough that you can reach up to grab at his clothing or hands once your voice seems to stop working, nothing coming out but a litany of moans and whines with no words attached to them. He reads your sounds like the words of a book, knowing exactly when to stop to leave you the most frustrated. His eyes rarely leave your face unless its to look down at whatever appendage he’s fucking you with, his cock still constrained within his slacks, hot and hard where he ruts against you when he can.

This time, when he lets you come back from the edge, his fingers drop to pull at his belt, the metal clink of the fastening loud in the kitchen as he pulls himself free, prick flushed a deep red and the slick sheen of precum beading at the tip, stroking down the shaft with a hiss. His smile is strained, a faint tremor to his expression and limbs from holding out on his own pleasure for so long. “Is this what you want?” He asks, low and dangerous, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds, the evidence of how many times you’ve almost cum dripping from your core to the drying floor.

You nod, barely able to speak, to do much more than cling to him for dear life and jerk your head up and down in the affirmative.

He cocks his head to one side, an eyebrow arched even as he presses forward with his hips, the tip of him a blazing heat where he rests against you. “You can do better than that,” he says, “or has all our training been for nothing? Beg.” 

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a broken, raspy thing in your throat, and he purrs in satisfaction, bucking his hips as he uses a hand to bring a leg up around his hip. 

“Please what, dear?” Alastor takes his hand off his cock now, an experimental thrust against you sinking the tip of him inside you, the stretch of it burning in the most delicious way even with how long he had been preparing you. Even he stops to take a moment, a low hiss escaping his lips at how tight you are around him. “Go on- no more edging, this is the last time, and you’ve done so well thus far. Such a well behaved mutt, aren’t you? Tell me what you want.”

And even with the barbed insult in there, the pleasure of his words zips through your body like a bolt of lightning, the floodgates of your voice open and overrun. “Please, please, Alastor,” you whine, and with every word he presses harder into you, spearing you on his length with every cry from your mouth. “God, please, fuck me- please, I- let me cum, I need it, please-”

Alastor finally bottoms out inside you, the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass as he grips your hips with an almost possessive ferocity. “Good girl,” he growls, leaning forward to lick and suck at the delicate skin of your throat. It should be frightening, his sharp teeth so close to your jugular, but all you can think about is how fucking perfectly he’s stretching you, the harsh bolts of pleasure that spark through your body and make your head fuzzy as he pulls back only far enough to slam back in, hitting that spot inside that he had been teasing with his fingers and tongue for however long it had been now. “We might make a proper pet of you yet, darling- fuck, you feel too perfect.”

It’s the first time he’s vocalized his own pleasure the entire time, the first bit of praise meant for how your body makes him feel and not just how well you can follow orders. It swims through your brain like the buzz of whiskey, another wave of arousal crashing through you and reflecting in the gush of wetness where you’re connected with Alastor. The feeling of it makes him curse again, eyes glowing black and red as he pulls back and watches you, your mouth open and panting behind the wire cage of the muzzle. You can feel the faint ache of the marks he’s left on your skin, where his teeth had nipped and drawn traces of blood that pool in the soapy water below you. His body snaps sharply each time he thrusts into you, chasing his own orgasm through your body as you cling to him, unintelligible sounds that only seem to spur him on as they fall from your lips.

Another orgasm builds, one that Alastor has promised to actually give to you, and the ‘training’ has been effective enough thus far that your mouth is open before you can consciously think about it. “Close, c-close, please, Alastor- gonna cum, please let me, I’ll be good, fuck-”

“Do it,” he demands, a hand releasing your hip to brush over your swollen clit, sensitive and sore but fuck it still feels good, gives an edge to the need that has you clenching hard around Alastor’s length. “You’ve earned it, so well behaved for me- for me alone, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes- please please please, fuck, I-”

The ability to speak leaves you with a well timed and well angled thrust as Alastor fucks into you, fingers rubbing at the sensitive nerves at the apex of your thighs at the same moment; the world beyond the fluttering of your cunt around Alastor’s cock shatters and dissolves into nothingness. You just barely register his own harsh grunts and a couple pulses of white-hot heat inside you before he pulls out, the rest of his cum dripping onto the bare skin of your pussy and combining with the mess you’ve made from your own release.

Slowly the feeling returns to your limbs, everything in your lower body still faintly clenching and twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, having been kept at the edge for what felt like hours before you were permitted to take the final leap. When you finally open your eyes, Alastor is still knelt between your thighs- he uses a couple of fingers to scoop the mess of his cum from your skin and push it back inside, the feeling of it making you shiver. Once he’s satisfied, he rubs his thumbs in small circles against the skin of your inner thighs, and it takes a moment to realize what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking- that’s not lotion, asshole,” you say weakly, head falling back against the floor, and he merely chuckles and continues to smear the remnants of his release against your flesh.

He stops, tucking his soft cock back into his pants and doing his buttons back up. “I thought ‘marking one’s territory’ was a dog behavior- one would think you would be flattered! Though I suppose you can always wash it off- you do shower, yes?”

You kick weakly at him, not too irritated when he steps away. You fix your skirt, pulling it down over the evidence of your afternoon. “Fuck off, yes I shower,” you mutter, trying to rise to standing and glaring at your shaky legs when they won’t comply. “Trust me, first chance I get I’m going to- hey!”

Alastor pulls you to standing with his hands under your arms, the motion sending you careening into his chest. He stares down at you for a moment, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, fingers carding softly through your hair. Your pulse stutters and increases as he leans in- was he going to kiss you?- and your eyes clench shut, waiting…

There’s a clink of metal, the straps of the muzzle loosening at last and letting the cage fall from your face, landing neatly in the grasp of a nearby shadow. “I did promise to take the muzzle off if you could behave,” he murmurs. “And you’ve shown me you can- well done.” He steps away then, the muzzle vanishing with a snap and the wrinkles in his clothing straightening out. “I should be off! I put off quite a bit of work for our… training,” he says with a smirk, and you feel the blush light up your face. “Do come see me if you think you can handle more- there’s always more treats to be had for a good pet.” He drops a hand to the top of your head, pats a couple times like one might to a real dog, and fades into shadows just as Niffty appears in the doorway of the kitchen. 

She wrinkles her nose. “Phew, it smells like wet dog in here! Did you spill my water? You better not let Alastor find out, I don’t think he likes you very much!“

“Don’t worry, Niff- I need to have a word with him soon anyway,” you mutter. “Let me help you clean this up…”

She fetches the mops, leaving you alone in the kitchen to wonder exactly how open Alastor’s offer to come see him for another ‘session’ was. Judging from the laughter you can almost hear echoing from the shadows at your furious blush when Niffty returns and notices a spot on the floor where Alastor's cum had dripped out of you onto the tiles, you'd say the next time couldn't come fast enough.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [TOUCH STARVED]

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A/N: Photo/Fanart Credit to @/Nyer_roth on Twitter (hiatus)

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM/CAT HYBRID DEMON READER ]

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Touch Starved Alastor prefers your presence over anyone else’s in the Hotel. His shadows linger by your side if he’s not physically there and when he is it’s quite obvious to everyone how closely the Radio Demon is guarding you.

No one dares to breathe a word about his behavior but the moment he’s out of sight or ear shot Angel will tease you endlessly. “Seems you have Mr. Fancy Creep wrapped round your little finger, toots.” Your face flushes ten shades of red as the spider demon nudges your side while giggling at your flustered reaction. He knows -well everyone knows how you feel about Alastor- but you’ve made it a point to never let the overload onto your attraction to him.

Even if he already is aware of it…

Angel’s teasing doesn’t help your little crush dissolve as you wished it would, so with a huff and a rushed whisper you excuse yourself from the group. “N-no I don’t Angel and…I’m heading to bed. Goodnight…” Angle snickers at your deliberate deflecting, but says nothing else as you waltz up the staircase, barely listening to Charlie yelling “good night” to you, and failing to notice the dark mass of spectrums trailing your every step.

Touch Starved Alastor listens in on those pesky conversations the others have when it comes to you and him. You’re always so skittish and docile under their prying, blushing at the slightest implication of his attention being on you, and to say it intrigues him would be an understatement. Alastor isn’t one to entertain those who show him affection, let alone acknowledge it, but when it comes to you the overload’s mind runs rampant with devious desires. At first he ignores them, content with keeping your connection to him cordial, and that works for a time.

It doesn’t last forever though.

Especially when you unconsciously tend to him so reverently. You’re a people pleaser by nature -he’s sure of that- but the immediate stars in your eyes whenever he instructs you to do something strikes just the right nerve for him.

It’s always the simplest things, tedious tasks he burdens you with just to see your eagerness to please him on repeat, “My dear, would you be so kind as to hand me that book over there?” Your head lifts, hopeful eyes staring at him as you nod with a genuine smile, “Of course!” You chirp, walking right over to the bookshelf without question to acquire the item, and Alastor watches your every move.

The flutter of your lashes as you pinpoint the object, how you stand on your tip toes to reach it, and the gentle sway of your hair as you finally grasp the book. You’re so sweet, so gentle with everything, and Alastor spends hours trying to stop himself from thinking about your tender embrace being spared his way.

Touch Starved Alastor starts to lock himself in his room or radio tower more often than usual when he can’t seem to keep his distance. His shadows still lord over you but are never seen which makes it that much easier for him to watch you from afar.

His sudden disappearance and lack of socializing affects you heavily. You don’t smile as much and when you do the light in your eyes wanes. You’re still kind to everyone, but choose to sit alone during group activities, or wander the halls humming to avoid them all together.

Alastor takes notice of every frown adorning your face when someone mentions him or inquires as to where he is and for a split second guilt creeps its way into him seeing your energetic mood dwindle at his hands.

He can’t let this go on forever, not when you look so betrayed at the sound of his name, and mindlessly wander towards his empty room every night as if to check on him just to leave in fear of embarrassment.

Enough is enough.

Touch Starved Alastor finds you alone on a rare stormy night in Hell, an old book opened up to your curious eyes as you lay flat on your front across the parlor’s couch. He watches you from the shadows for a long while, studying the slight scrunch of your nose as your gaze happens open a certain line of text, and the way you gently kick your feet as your chin rests on the back of your hands.

He’s seen and met a mass amount of beings in his time in hell and not one has ever emitted anything close to your ethereal beauty. You swear you’re not a fallen angel to anyone who asks and it baffles him how a soul so light could end up here.

Unruly luck….maybe?

Fate, possibly?

He’ll figure it out one way or another.

“Hello, my dear, late night reading I see…” Alastors voice grasps your attention immediately, his usual staticky tone leaning towards normality as you peer up at him with a growing smile. “Yes…I couldn’t sleep,” you respond quietly, relatively shy around the overload, and trying hard not to seem overexcited to see him. You missed Alastor dearly the past few days but it would be embarrassing to show that longing outright….

The deer demon picked up on your excitement right away despite your attempts at casualness, his smile softening as you held his stare and bit your lip. Delicate fanged canines poking out just enough to prick your lower lip.

How adorable, Alastor inwardly muses at your nervous habit and continues with his light hearted interrogation. “Hm, I suppose a restless night can have that effect. ..Would you mind if I joined you then, darling?”

Touch Starved Alastor is elated when you nod gently, shifting to sit up properly, and give him a space beside you. “Of course Alastor…it gets lonely staying up by yourself. I’d appreciate the company.” Your sweet tone dazes him for a moment as he sits next to you, unconsciously disregarding his aversion to interpersonal space…

Odd…

He never situates himself this close to you, always looming, but never actively seeking your side. It’s strange to you at first but as he visibly relaxes you don’t mind the deliberate position he’s taken.

He could very well be tired or you might be hallucinating that he was putting an arm around your shoulders.

Either option didn’t ease the rapid pace of your heartbeat..

Alastor was careful with you, incredibly gentle as he pulled you to his side, and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Such a sweetheart you are, my dear.” He speaks quietly, oddly calm as you hum in agreement, your soft ears flattening as you breathe in his scent.

A smidge of brimstone mixed with the aroma bourbon and pine.

He smelled just like a lovely forest, a secure scent you wouldn’t mind getting used to, and tried to commit it to memory just in case Alastor never let you get this close to him again.

Touch Starved Alastor chuckles lowly when you breathe him in, finding your feline tendencies endearing, and listening to your soft purring become a vocal indicator of how comfortable you felt with him. You’d long forgotten the book, nuzzling your head under Alastor’s chin instead, getting lost in your innocent desire to be under him, and he makes no move to stop you.

If anything the radio demon welcomes your touch, sliding you onto his lap with ease, and that never ending smile of his becoming genuine when you absentmindedly compliment him. “…You smell…sweet,” you hum, speaking more to yourself than him, but he hears you and responds promptly. “Is that so, darling?”

You nod, head lifting to stare up at him through your lashes, “Mhm…I missed it..I…” you pause, face flushing red as the deer demon peers back at you, red eyes glinting with dormant affection as he studies your expressions.

“Come now, use your words dear…” he reassures you his patience isn’t waning with a gentle hum.

Alastor is tempted to watch your plush lips move as you struggle to speak up but it’s hard to resist when you finally whisper a confession -one you think he’ll be off put by…

“W-well I missed you entirely Alastor… a lot actually.” And there you go again, eyes wide with apprehensive hope, and ever present adoration. He’d felt his fair share of adrenaline rushes, experienced the “blood rushing to your head” urges that sinners and demons alike couldn’t resist, and though Alastor prided himself in remaining in control of such things…

You brought them out of him without even trying.

Ridiculous, truly…but the longer you fawned over him the less cordiality Alastor maintained.

Touch Starved Alastor lets his smile soften, deeply appreciating your timid vulnerability, and much to your relief he lets you know it. “Missed me? Well, I must have quite the effect on you to instill such a sentiment,” His tone is abundantly softer than usual, quietly echoing in the hotels parlor, and tickling the nerves in your ears.

They perk up along with your tail as he rests his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly close until the only proper place you can latch your hands onto is the back of the carved mahogany frame of the couch. “Al…” you sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on you tightens a tad in response.

When had he gotten so touchy? Better yet, why?

All logical questions that you were asking yourself weren’t granted answers as the overlord inhaled heavily. Breathing you in just as you’d done to him moments ago.

Your unsteady pulse, rising lust, slight confusion, and underlying fear of him coursing through your veins in waves. Alastor identified each emotion, practically tasting them on his tongue, and his hunger rose again from it.

He could just eat you alive at this rate and from the whine you let out as he trailed his hands down to your thighs, claws ripping right through the sheer white thigh high socks you’d paired with a modestly short nightgown made it abundantly clear to him you wouldn’t mind if he did.

How sweet you’d taste?

How the shaky whines you were letting out now could turn to bashful screams?

How sickeningly perfect you’d look broken, bloody, and marked by him and him alone?

He’d wondered about these things constantly…feverishly…

Touch Starved Alastor lets his mirage of being a “true gentleman” dissipate entirely when you subconsciously roll your hips down on him for much needed friction -and in an attempt to dissolve the pain his scratches on your skin brought.

Fuck. This. Alastor curses himself, swiftly repositioning you both in a blink of an eye. Your back hits the velvet cushions with a gentle ‘thud’, earning a soft gasp on your part that’s inevitably silenced by one of his shadows wrapping around your mouth, and another gingerly snaking round your waist. He chuckles as you squirm underneath him, clearly wanting to be in control of your own body, but what would you ever need that autonomy for?

He’s here for a reason, right?

Why grant you more agency than required?

“Comfortable, my dear?” The leering stag above you chides, grin wide as you groan in frustration, eyes sliding shut as he slips between your parted legs. His red irises show brighter as your lower halves press flush against each other and you shudder from the contact -inwardly congratulating yourself for not wearing much underneath your nightdress to begin with.

Alastor allowed your hands to reach for him, your delicate claws gripping his suit collar as firmly as possible, tugging him lower as you shifted under his weight to grind against him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he half reprimands half teases as your bare slit passes over the crotch of his black dress pants. There was no doubt your slick was leaving a stain and if it were anyone else -in any other situation- Alastor would’ve had their head for ruining his attire.

Luckily, you were to receive anything but his wrath.

How fortunate…

Touch Starved Alastor feels himself going mad when you mindlessly use any part of him you can reach as a bid for more pleasure. Eyes watering, begging him to touch you, help you, and it’s one hell of a sight to see in his opinion. “Desperate aren’t we, darling?” His cooing drives you insane, large hands wandering under your nightgown to trace your warm skin -not helping your dazed state at all.

Alastor purposefully claws at your body, placing surface level scars on it, letting the small droplets of blood that escape his cuts paint your skin and his fingertips. You struggle every soften, train of thought lagging as pain and pleasure start to intertwine.

“….please don’t stop..”

“What a sick & twisted little thing you are..”

Tears run down your face, drool dripping from the corner of your lips, and your cunt leaking all over him and sofa. Blood starts to seep through your nightdress in random streaks and it’s only then that Alastor decide it’s redundant to keep it on you. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” That’s all the warning you get from the radio demon before you feel his claws shred it to pieces.

Thank heavens you hadn’t chosen your favorite one tonight or you’d be devastated…

“Much, much better, ma chère,” Alastor praises you as if the task was at your own hands -and to some degree it was for letting him get this far- and yet your face flushes a deep shade of red as you nod in agreement.

The shadowy tentacle covering your mouth tightens its grip, shifting sharply to expose your neck to him, and Alastor seizes the opening immediately. Taking his time finding your sensitive spots, marking them with his teeth and tongue until there’s dark bruises left behind, and you nearly came undone from the relentless precision of love bites he inflicts on you.

Touch Starved Alastor allows your hands wander wherever they please, quite taken with the feeling of your dainty claws raking down his back, or shifting up to pet his ears. They flicker about at your touch, ever so sensitive, and heightening the pleasure he gets from torturing you. Every sound you make, the shuddering moans against his lips, and the muffled cries that build in your chest when Alastor toys with you muddles his focus further.

Bit by bit you’re chipping away at his sanity by simply enjoying his caress and offering him yours.

Alastor isn’t one to succumb to pleading easily but when you’re given the chance to use your voice and beg for release without a second thought….he hasn’t got the gall to deny you.

Not when you’re looking up at him like you might die if he denies you, so worked up that you stutter, and shake uncontrollably.

“N-need to….p-please let me…come,” you whine as quietly as possible, ears laying flat on your head as he hums melodically in false consideration for your plight.

It’s fueling his already massive ego that you’re poised to come undone when he’s barely done a thing to you and he has half the mind to pull away and watch you fall to pieces…

You’d surely give him a show then, pouting helplessly, or cowering from embarrassment realizing how much of a mess you’ve made of yourself for him.

It’d be pure entertainment.

However, why waste a prime opportunity to see you utterly satisfied by him?

By his mere presence even.

The deer demon refuses to pass up such a rare occurrence, flipping your position again so your smaller frame sits atop his larger one. “F-fuck..” you hiss as you settle on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he guides your hips to keep riding him at a rough but languid pace. Alastor observes you above him for a long moment, smile widening when your hair falls in front of your bright eyes, and your hands splay across his chest to keep yourself steadily upright.

The scratches he’s left on you are still fresh, mixing with the tears that flow down your face, and your arousal pitifully dribbling down your inner thighs as well.

Exactly how he pictured you time and time again.

“You may,” he finally exhales, static completely gone from his voice, and hearing it elicits a newfound spark of heat in your core. Your legs shake involuntarily, hips stuttering in tight circles over his clothed erection as you chased your high. Alastor watches you intently, tonguing his cheek to keep from groaning, and his body running hotter than usual as your cunt drags against him.

Touch Starved Alastor can’t fathom how a soul as tender as yours can dwindle to filth in the midst of cumming. Head lulling at an angle while your back arches just right to define your silhouette in the dark room.

The coil in your stomach snaps faster than you can gauge a reaction. A scream threatening to leap from your chest as it washed over you, but his shadows return, clasping tight enough to muffle it. “Easy, my dear…you wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hm?” Alastor bucks his hips upward to make his point clear and you visibly jolt from the overstimulation he causes.

It was clear he needed his end met too and that brought a grin to your face as his shadows receded from your lips when you quieted down. “No…” you sigh, inching a hand lower to trace over the rise in his pants. Alastor stiffens under your touch, nearly snarling when you palm him slowly, eyes never leaving his as you do. Tempting and sweet as always, “Careful, Mon Cher,” he warns, voice thick with allure.

He’d only come to seek a warm body to torment, assuming he’d take care of his own needs later, but you -the ever so caring sinner you were- seemed intent to shoulder the task now.

You licked your lips, tongue grazing your fangs as your peered down at him defiantly with a warm smile, “M’ not one of your little puppets…” Alastor raised a brow at that, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned forward, “….and I never will be.” You finish your statement, smiling wider before lowering yourself down his body. He lets you do as you please, stuck between observing, and enjoying the attention you give him.

It’s very rare to see the overload so willing to be tested, but you made your stance clear with a singular lick up his clothed length with the softest smile on your lips. “Fuck…” he groans then, static nonexistent again as you playfully repeated the action until he became agitated enough to fist a handful of your hair and drag you back up to face him.

“It’s not very polite to tease, sweetheart.”

You smirk and reach for his belt, skillfully undoing it without breaking eye contact, feigning humility through half lidded eyes“Then would you be so kind as to correct my manners then?”

“It’d be my pleasure, darling,”

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My head was all over the place with this one ❤️ I need some sleep…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s a literal walking red flag 🚩 and unfortunately my favorite color is red 😭 Credits to the creator 🖤

[jazzmasternot]

I feel bad for my future husband bc I just know ima be making him dress up as Alastor in bed. Ima be like

“cmon babe put on the red wig and pinstripe suit”

“Yes honey 😔”