#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 💖🎂

Please follow #DRP Smutmas 2024 to get all the latest updates of our stories!

Wanna hang out with me? Come talk to me at Voxtek Server!

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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?"

[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.

•~•~•~���~•~•~•~•

[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 emotions 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 theirs 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)>

[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!

[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.

[alastor-simp]

Demonic Savior - Demon Alastor x Human Female Reader

❥Summary- Who knew that the deer you helped was actually a demon?

❥Tags: Demon Alastor, Human Reader, Caution: Not For Minors, Trigger Warning, Abuse, Child Abuse, Abusive Parents, Deer Form Alastor, Curse Words, Angst + Comfort

❥Notes: Haven't wrote a story like this so I wanted to give it a try. I understand this story might be a bit traumatic for readers who went through something similar, so please skip it this story bothers you. This is 3K words, lets go

❥Credit: Divider from @cafekitsune

❥Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! NOT FOR MINORS!!!!!!!!!

✪In The Forest✪

"Pant....pant....pant." Holding a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm down after running away from your so-called home. It was never home to you, more like hell, as you had to suffer through everything your parents inflicted on you. Your mom would never feed you, locking you in your room, and whenever you had the chance to leave your prison, your drunk dad would beat you mercilessly, shouting swears at you. It was just plain luck that the time you ran away from your father, the door was left unlocked, letting you escape out into the woods, "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!" screeched from inside the house, as you sped away as fast as you could, limping slightly from the beatings. You took a rest behind a large tree, trying to catch your breath and also soothe your aching body as the more you tried to run, the worse the pain got. There was no sound of footsteps anywhere, letting you know that you were safe for now, but you knew that your father was searching for you, ready to beat you again for disobeying him. Wincing, you slowly got up from the ground, moving slowly to avoid stepping on any branches that would alert anyone nearby.

A few minutes went by and you slowly came across a small river. Oh finally, some fresh water. Getting on your knees, your hands scooped some water, bringing it to your mouth to drink. The river was able to reflect back at you, allowing you to see yourself. One of your eyes was swollen from being punched, cheeks sunken from being starved and your lip was bleeding. It was a surprised that your face still remained the same, even after all the beatings that were inflicted on you. "Rustle..Rustle." A soft sound was heard from a large bush, causing you to jump up in fright. You were waiting for the figure of your father, to come out, but nothing appeared. The sounds continued, earning your curiosity.

Moving closer to the sound, you peeked behind a bush and let out a gasp. A large deer appeared in front of you, its fur a dark crimson red and its antlers black as coal. It was on the ground, hoof caught in a bear trap. It noticed your presence, dark red eyes staring back at you, gazing into your soul. Moving slowly as not to startle it, you sat next to the deer, letting it know you were not a threat. Drawing your eyes to the trapped leg, you placed your hands on the jaws, "I'm gonna try to open this okay?" Using the strength you could muster, the jaws of the trap slowly inched open bit by bit, allowing the deer to pull it out. Once you saw that the deer had freed its foot, you push the trap slowly together, so it wouldn't snap on your hand, setting it on the ground once you had closed it. The deer's foot was bleeding heavily, having been punctured by the sharpness of the trap.

Moving away from the deer, you went back to the river and picked up some water with your hands, carrying it over back to the deer. The water helped removed some of the blood that was on the leg and would help reduce the chance of infection a bit. Grabbing your shirt, you ripped a piece of cloth off, using it as bandage for the cut, to prevent it from bleeding more. Having tied it on, you look at your work, making sure it was all set before setting the foot down. Looking back at the deer, you gave it a smile, "There you go, that should help with the bleeding. Just hope you are able to walk." The deer had remained surprisingly calm when you were helping it, which was quite strange, but you were just glad it didn't run away or else that wound would have gotten infected. The crimson deer, moved its legs, standing up to his full height, apparently able to move on the wounded hoof. It moved slowly, its head coming closer to yours, giving your face a sniff. Its tongue had come out and licked your lip, cleaning the blood that was dripping from it. "Haha I'll take that as a thank you." Giggling at the sensation, your hand raised and rubbed the deer's cheek, which made its ears twitch. "Never seen a red deer before. Quite beautiful."

The moment was ruined when you heard a loud yell, "Y/N!!! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL KILL YOU!!!" Jumping at the scream, you realized your dad was close. Looking back at the deer, you motioned your hand for it to leave, not wanting your dad to catch it and possibly kill it, "Go now!! Run!" The deer didn't think twice and bolted away, disappearing into the bushes. Hearing more rustling from behind you, you turned seeing your father, face red from anger and the alcohol, as he was holding a beer bottle in his hand. "FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He rushed towards you, the end of the bottle smashing against your head, causing it to break. "AHH!!", Grasping your head, there was a wet sensation appearing on your hand, making you pull back, seeing blood. A hand had grabbed your hair, body being lifted a bit off the ground, as you saw the hatred filled eyes of your father glaring down at you "YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME?!? I'LL BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU, SO YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE AGAIN!!" He pulled, dragging your body back to the house, your hell. "N-No! Let go!!" Your cries were left unheard, as the rough grip form your fathers hand on your hair continued to yank, dragging you, body scraping against the grassy surface. As you were being pulled away, a pair of glowing eyes appeared from far out of the forest, before they vanished.

✪Next Day✪

Groaning in pain, your hands were motioning left and right in soapy liquid, washing the dishes. This was the continuation of your punishment for trying to escape. Your mom caught wind of your escape attempt and joined in on the beating with your father. When you woke up, body still on the cold floor, your mother came from the kitchen, pointing her finger and yelling at you to do the dishes, since it's your duty to do all the chores and not hers. The tormentors that were your parents, were lazying about on the couch, watching TV as you continued to watch the dishes. It hurt....it hurt so much you could barely stand. Tears were running down your face, drops landing into the soapy water. Using one of your soap covered hands, you tried to wipe the tears from your face, however doing that caused the glass in your other hand to drop to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound alerted both of your parents, the both of them darting off the couch and into the kitchen, faces fueled with anger and malice. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! The roaring voice from your dad made you yelp in fear, raising your hands up for some sort of protection. "I-I dropped a glass! I-I'm sorry!" You prayed for mercy, hoping that they would only yell and degrade you. "You're sorry?" The cold tone from your mom, made you shiver, tears still running down your cheeks. "You don't look very sorry. Honey, I believe its time for some proper punishment." The evil smile on her face, made your stomach drop. No..No..NO..NO!!!

Your legs sprung to life, darting from the kitchen, trying to reach the hallway that led to your room. Your dad was quicker, his fist connecting with your face, causing you to fall to the floor, groaning from the pain. Your hands grabbed at your bruised cheek, crying loudly. Your dad stood above you, veins bursting from his face. His body got on top of yours, hands grasping your throat, squeezing. The air you were breathing was caught off, making you panic. You tried to push the hands from your neck, but his grip wouldn't budge, squeezing much tighter at your struggling. Your mouth couldn't utter a sound, faint gasping trying to get some air. Why? Why was this happening to you? Why must the two of these individuals, not even parents, monsters, must torment you so? Black spots popped in your vision, growing more and more weak, as the pressure on your throat continued. "Someone.....anyone.....please....h-help..me", your mind screamed, vision growing more and more hazy.

"Knock..knock..knock" Loud knocking came from the front door. Your dad locked eyes with it in confusion, turning his head to your mom, wondering who the hell it was. His hands had loosen slightly, allowing some air to enter through your mouth, but just barely. The knocking presumed, which got on your mom's nerve as you heard her curse, walking past the both of you to answer it. The ringing in your ears was making it impossible to hear what was going, but you heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the sounds of footsteps approaching, your moms probably. A gush of wind was felt from behind, and through the ringing in your ears, you heard a voice, "I…….in..yo….daughter," it was broken, but it sounded like static?

✪Alastors POV✪

The door to this humble estate opened, revealing a small petite woman on the other side, wearing a scowl on her face. "Greetings, madam. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but I acquire your daughter. Is the little darling here by chance?" Bowing a bit, I locked eyes with the miss, who seemed displeased at my arrival. "We aren't interested in what your trying to sell buddy. Take a hike-SLAM!" The door slammed in my face, hmph how rude. Molding into the shadows, my body manifested into the house, appearing in front of the supposed father-figure and the person who I was seeking, "I decided to let myself in, as I did say, I acquire your daughter." The poor darling was laying on the ground, face horribly bruised and neck laced with finger marks. Smile straining at the sight, my eyes locked onto the male on top of her. He soon stood up, walking towards me, attempting to be intimidating. How foolish.

"HEY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING INTO OUR HOUSE LIKE THAT?! BEAT IT ASSHOLE!!" The man screamed, whiffs of alcohol emanating from his breath. The mother had came around me, crossing her arms as she stood next to her husband, eyes cold, "I don't know how you got in here, but I prefer you leave now before I call the police." As if a measly man dressed in a suit with a gun and badge could harm me. Summoning my staff, I gave it a twirl, before placing it down on the ground. "Now now, all I want is your daughter, who is laying on the floor, next to you." The both of them, looked at each other before returning back to me with smirks. "You want this pathetic waste of space right here?" The man raised his leg, striking the lady with a kick, sending her flying, body hitting the side wall. Her body remained limp, but she was awake enough to let out a groan of pain, grip on my staff tightening. “I implore you not to do that again."

The so-called man wore a smirk, raising his foot again to strike, "Whatcha gonna do about-" He never finished his sentence as the shadows I called stopped his kick, before lifting him up in the air and throwing him down the hall like a ragdoll. "AHHHHHH!" He was able to let out one good scream before his head hit the wall, knocking him out. "I believe I recalled saying,nøŧ ŧø đø ŧħȺŧ ȺǥȺɨn." The air grew heavy, as the dark shadows flooded the walls and floors, glaring at both the mother and father. My antlers grew to massive lengths, and slits changing into radio dials, revealing my true demon form. The mother's face was shocked, collapsing onto the ground with tears in her eyes, "M-monster!" She cried out, as her body shivered with fear. "ĦȺĦȺ-ĦØØ, Mønsŧɇɍ? Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ sȺđłɏ mɨsŧȺꝁɇn, mɨss. Ɨ Ⱥm Ⱥ đɇmøn, Ŧħɇ ɌȺđɨø Đɇmøn." Bending down, I leaned closer, enjoying the fearful expression coming from the mother. It didn't take long before her eyes rolled back and she fainted from the fear, "Ħmm, ħøw đᵾłł. UsᵾȺłłɏ ŧħɇɏ sȼɍɇȺm fɨɍsŧ ƀɇføɍɇ ᵽȺssɨnǥ øᵾŧ." Returning my attention back to the one I seek, her body floated in the air with my powers, as she floated into my arms, carrying her bridal style. She weighed almost nothing, the poor thing, body lacking any source of fullness, bony from head to toe. She had awoken a bit, moving her head softly to look at me, pupils glazed, "H-h-help." The voice she let out was so soft, before her head collapsed, landing against my chest. Leaning closer, I nuzzled against her head softly, "Not to worry, my dear, I will offer my assistance." My eyes locked on to the two bodies on the ground, smile growing.

✪Your POV✪

"Mmmmm...ughhhhh." Letting out a groan, you opened your eyes slightly, vision blurry. Your neck felt very sore, moving your hand up slowly to rub at it. Something was wrapped around your body, making it hard for you to move. Vision clearing a bit, your eyes gazed up to see trees hovering above you, fireflies flying around. Huh? You blinked again, feeling like it was your imagination. The more you blinked, you realized this was real. Moving slowly with a groan, your head looked down to see that you were on a bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. It took you a minute to realize this wasn't your bed, the sheets looked expensive and the covers were crimson red. Your eyes darted out to ponder where you were. Half of the room was a forest, reminding you of the one near your house, but on the other half, it was attached to a regular room, walls decorated with stag heads, glowing fireplace with green flames, a tall bookcase and a desk where a big cathedral radio was. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming." Pinching your arm, you waited for this all to disappear, expecting the area around you to transform into your real bedroom. Nothing changed once you did that, realizing that this was reality, and you were in a two dimensional room, having no idea where in the hell you were.

The door to the room bursted open, and in came a man dressed to the nines in a red suit, holding a microphone stand. Bright crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his smile was stretched to the max on his face, "Ahh awake now, are we?". He took long strides to the bed you laid on, smiling down at you, as you continued to observe him. He was tall, which made him a bit intimidating, but your eyes scanned him all over trying to figure out who and what he was. "Who-what?" It felt almost impossible to talk, as you were still trying to piece together what was going on. The person in front of you, noticed your confusion, letting out a chuckle that was mixed with static. "Haha, I suspected you must be terribly dumbstruck about your current situation. First things first, I will introduce myself. My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you again." He bowed, while he gripped one of your hands, placing a soft kiss on it, making you jump a bit. "Ummm...nice to meet you. Do you mind telling me where I am?" You noticed the little puffs of hair on his head move after you said that, wait are those ears? "Ah yes, We are currently in the fine establishment of the Hazbin Hotel, run by the Princess of Hell herself. The room we are in right now is my own private quarters." He leaned back to his full height, extending his hands out like he was giving a performance for a big show.

Did he just say Hell? How on god's green earth could you be in hell? Placing your hands on your neck, you rubbed at the sore sensation, as your memory flickered, trying to recall what happened. "Am I dead?" The man in front of you, leaned his head back, letting out a loud chortle, "HA! No! You are not dead, my dear. Just made a simple portal between the living world and Hell to bring you here." Okayyyyyyyyy, that answered your question a bit, but it was still mind-baffling that you were here, in Hell. Feeling a bit awkward that you didn't introduce yourself, you smiled softly a bit at him, "Sorry I'm Y/N. Nice to meet y......wait, you said again, have the both of us met before?" There was no way you have met him before, as you would remember a well-dressed deer man. The microphone stand he was holding disappeared, moving slowly to take a seat on the bed where you laid, lips turning into a tender smile, "Oh my, don't tell me you have forgotten? You treated the horrible wound that was afflicted on my leg by that horrible trap. I also must thank you for the compliment, not many have referred to me as beautiful before."

All the memories started flooding back, remembering the deer you had saved and treated, until your father dragged you away. "You were that deer?" Alastor's ears twitched in amusement, chuckling softly, "Correct, my dear. It is hard to come across good venison in hell, so I often times travel to the human world to hunt. My deer form draws less eyes towards me then this one," He announced, gesturing to himself, as he was explaining. "Is your wound okay?" You asked, concerned eyes gazing down to his foot. His eyes widen for a bit, not expecting you to ask him that, seeing as how stunned you before, you still had the courtesy to ask about his well-being, "It's perfectly alright now my deer, no need to stress. Your handiwork helped control a lot of the bleeding." His hand waved in the air, as the static crackled in his voice.

The pain on your neck was bothering you more, placing both hands on it to alleviate some of the pain. Flashbacks of your father began to play in your mind, recalling the hateful eyes from both him and your mother as he continued to strangle you to death. Sobbing, the tears began to flood your cheeks, alerting the demon next to you. "Oh no! There is no need to cry, my dear. You are safe from them now, they will never hurt you again. I made sure of it," His voice was soft, hands placing themselves on your cheeks, wiping away at the tears. His hands were warm, making you lean a bit into the touch. He made sure of it? What did he mean by that. Alastor was able decipher the question you wanted to ask him, just by reading your face, "I am known as the Radio Demon, most powerful overlord in all of hell. Those who have wrong me or provoked my rage will have their screams broadcasted all throughout hell. I slaughtered your parents in the living world, and found them in hell as sinners, granting them a second death by my hands. Their pitiful screams for mercy were just broadcasted a little while ago, thank Satan, you were still asleep." He said all of this like it was the most causal thing in the world, while your mouth opened wide like a fish.

"YOU KILLED THEM!?!" Finding the energy to move, you jumped out of the bed, standing a good feet away from the bed. Alastor tilted his head, confused at your reaction, "Well yes, Was that not what you wanted? To be saved?" He got you there, as you recalled wanting what was happening to you to stop, but not resulting in the death of your parents. "They were horrible people, but I didn't them to die. I just.....I wanted to leave and never go back, away from them forever." You wanted to roll into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling super overwhelmed over everything.

✪Alastors POV✪

Oh dear, this is only stressing out the poor darling more. My past sins have driven me numb to any form of guilt, but I have forgotten it's not the same for others. Removing myself from the bed, I stood in front of the little human, hooking their chin softly to gaze up at me. "If you feel responsible for what has happened to them, don't. They were going to kill you either way, even if you had left, they would have found a way to find you. They are the cause of their own undoing, not you." The tears still remained in her eyes, but she seemed slightly calmer now. "Why? Why did you save me?" She whimpered out, making my heart ache a bit. Chuckling to myself, my hands squished her cheeks, she was simply adorable. "Simply returning the favor, my dear. You helped me and I returned it in kind." Her eyes continued to gaze into mine, before they dropped to the ground. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a hug.

The sudden act made me stiffen, being unfamiliar with acts like this. "Thank you....for saving me." The muffled voice against my chest made me relax, returning the hug back, with one hand on her waist, and the other petting her soft hair. I allowed this to go on for a few more minutes before pulling back, "Ahem, I believe its time to head to the lobby. I'm sure the residents will be delighted in meeting you." The little darling in front of me tilted her head, appearing confused, "Residents?" Her cute acts made me shake with laughter, as I poke her nose softly, "Yes! Residents! We are in a hotel after-all." With a wave of my hand, my microphone appeared, allowing me to twirl it with my fingers, before setting it down, I extended my arm out, waiting for her to take a hold, "Come along, darling! Best not to keep them waiting!" There was a bit of hesitation that flashed on her face for a second before it was replaced with a kind soft smile, as her arm hooked around mine. "Lovely! Now! Let us head on down!" The both of us strode over to the door, leaving my humble quarters, as we headed to lobby, where dear Charlie and the others resided, ready for them to meet our new addition to the hotel.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

@morganodaidiot , @boldlyenchantingfox22 , @verona2314 ,

@angelmoonlight , @thatbadassauthor , @wantondoe ,

@doorknobhater ,

[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.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Hate Mail, part two (Human Alastor x reader)

CW: Rough sex, Dub con Rated: Adult Part 2 of 2 (Part 1 here) Summary: Alastor has been on the receiving end of some nasty letters at the station. With the help of some rather unique penmanship and a stroke of luck, the culprit finds herself in his crosshairs. What sort of lesson will Alastor teach his little hate fan and how will that change when he uncovers the reason why she is sending him the letters?

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!

Alastor reached down, carefully taking your hand in his. Your legs shook as you tried to get your feet under you as he helped you up. The clicking of your simple heels against the wooden floor of his office seemed too loud at the moment. 

He looked at you tenderly. The soft, caring look in his eyes felt so very much like a lie, and yet you wanted to believe it. The sounds of your sniffling and harsh breathing filled your ears, along with the ticktock of the clock on the wall.

You wanted to believe he hadn’t intended to hurt you, that he lost control. 

You wanted to believe it, but he had said he would make you pay for what you had written. He had said you would suffer, and you had. 

“Oh, do stop sniffling.” Alastor cooed. “It’s not ladylike. I’ll make this up to you, come, come.” 

His hand rested on your back, guiding you back toward his desk. The last thing you wanted was to step deeper into the office again. Giving up what little distance you had made toward the door terrified you. There wasn’t much choice but to obey, though. 

Alastor’s hand on your back told you who still had control. 

You had heard tells from other women how situations like this went. Men pulled out a few dollars, and they thought it would erase their transgressions. That was what you expected, as he forced you to step behind his desk once again. 

The only thing you couldn’t understand was why he had yet to put himself away and fasten his pants. 

Alastor stepped close behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he did, pulling your back flush against his chest. His chest expanded as be took a deep breath, nose resting against the crown of your head. Worse, you could feel his cock pressing against your lower back, still exposed and now twitching as it grew harder with each heartbeat that coursed through it. 

“What are you-?” your question caught in your throat as his lips caressed your shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses that tempted you to tilt your head to the side. 

“I told you,” Alastor whispered as his other hand planted on the edge of the desk in front of you, “I’m going to make it up to you.” 

“Please, sir.” your voice was high, vocal cords stretched tight as you tried to think of a way out of this. “I don’t need anything. It’s fine. We can- we can pretend this didn’t happen.” 

“You sent those letters because you wanted my attention,” Alastor whispered, fingers working at the buttons of your blouse as you stood, trembling in his arms. “I got angry and took it out on you, but that wasn’t right. I know women don’t have a lot of ways to get a man’s attention.” 

“Please, let me go.” Your heart beat faster as his hand reached into your shirt, slight calluses on his hands scratching at the delicate skin of your abdomen. 

“I will,” Alastor hummed in your ear, hand caressing higher until he was pushing the lacey band of your bra up, freeing your breasts from the tight confines. 

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help the way your breath caught in your lungs as his fingertips ghosted over the bud of your nipple. 

“Cher,” Alastor spoke as he palmed the swell of your breast, “I find the current fashion trend to bind the breasts down to be so distasteful. There’s something so alluring to the curves of a woman.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, though you did not know what you were apologizing for. You did not dress in the morning with seeing Alastor in mind. That was simply the fashion of the time. 

“This is much better, isn’t it?” Alastor chuckled against your neck, pushing his chest into you as he bent at the waist, forcing you to lean forward. Gravity guided your breast to rest in his hand, filling his palm as you reached out to brace yourself on his desk with one hand. You gripped his wrist with the other, failing to pull his hand from you. 

“Let me go.” You whimpered, “Please, you don’t have to do this.” 

“It’s only fair.” Alastor took his hand from his desk, resting it on your hip. 

Long fingers wrapped around the front of your hip, caressing down your inner thigh as he ran his palm down the front of your hip. Each time his hand pushed its way up your leg, back to your hip, the hem of your skirt rose higher and higher. 

Before you could make sense of what was happening, you felt the rough weave of his slacks against bare skin. While he distracted you with the feeling of his fingers rolling your nipple between them, he had your skirt pushed up around your waist. 

He pushed his leg forward, bullying your thighs apart with his knee as he pushed against your torso. There wasn’t much you could do to resist the push of him, bending you over his desk, leaving your lower half on display. Your knickers were all you had to provide any coverage. 

“Stay just like that,” Alastor ordered as he pulled away, “Be a good girl for me.” 

Your fingers twitched against the papers on his desk. Fear coursed through you as he stepped away, looking at you as you supported yourself on your elbows. The soft fabric of your undergarments was sticky with slick, clinging to your skin.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw exactly what you feared you would. Alastor was looking at you with a deep hunger. You could feel how your undergarments were stuck to the slick of your core. They were surely near transparent from how it felt. 

Wherever he was directing his attention, it was clear he was enjoying what he was seeing. His cock stood tall and proud out in front of his open fly. His shirt was pulled loose, partially unbuttoned at the bottom and the top. At some point, he had pulled his bowtie from his neck, letting it hang around his shoulders. 

Slowly, he stepped forward, reaching out for you. Strong hands caressed your hip before thumbs hooked under the band. There was a slight resistance as the fabric clung to your slick coated core and then they were falling, leaving a cooling trail down your thigh. 

“You are a pretty little thing,” Alastor murmured to himself. 

A startled yelp fell from your lips as he reached out, running his fingers over your slit, smearing slick around. They moved easily through your folds before his long finger slipped deep inside your core. You fluttered around him, not expecting the intrusion. Pulling back, he added a second before withdrawing both.

“You keep trying to protect your reputation, your decency,” Alastor laughed as he wrapped his hand around his cock, lazily stroked his cock, letting the slick on his fingers smear over his shaft. “But don’t you worry. I won’t tell anyone how badly you want this. I won’t tell them how you tried so hard to get my attention. This’ll stay just between us.” 

You gasped as the soft head of his cock slotted through your folds, caressing over your clit. He thrusted slowly forward a few times, coating himself in your fluids before he adjusted his angle. You had no chance to prepare yourself for the intrusion or beg for mercy. 

He pushed forward, slowly but steadily, sinking deeper into you. Your walls spread, struggling to accommodate the considerable size of him. Burning stretching had you gasping for air. There was no hesitation, no giving you a chance to adjust to his size. 

He pushed and pushed, sinking deeper into you than you thought possible. When pain stabbed at you and you were sure there was no more room, he pushed forward still, forcing your body to make room for him. 

Tears ran down your face as you gripped anything you could find. Hair hung down in your face as your head hung limply from your neck. You could feel the papers crumped under your hand and see how your tears smeared the ink on them.

Sweet relief had you sagging at your shoulders as he pulled back, coated now with slick. The reprieve was short-lived as he snapped his hips forward, setting a harsh pace that quickly had your arms giving out. Pain and pleasure mixed as he hit every part inside you. 

Your begging cries of “Please,” morphed from cries of mercy to please for more. As the pain in your core died out, becoming pure pleasure in the face of your building orgasm, your breasts swayed, nipples grazing crumpled papers.

“Close,” you panted, hardly registering the sting of paper biting into sensitive flesh again and again, tiny cuts gathering along the underside of your breasts. “So close.” Your breath caught as your nipple stung, blood smearing on papers and against your skin. 

Alastor’s hand planted between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest against the desk as he fucked into you. The sound of his groans, the slapping of his balls against your puffy cunt, and your whining moans filled the room. At the moment, you couldn’t care less if someone walking in the hall heard the way he was fucking you. 

Your orgasm hit suddenly, washing over you in a violent wave. Alastor fucked you through it, each thrust a battle as your walls clung to him, trying to suck him deeper and milk him of his seed. He wouldn’t give it to you yet. 

The pace remained bruising. Each thrust was sure to leave a bruise on your ass. Only when your cries lowered into tearful gasps did he slow, pulling from your sopping cunt. His cock was soaked with your slick, glistening in the dim light. 

He grabbed you harshly, pulling you up off his desk. There was no chance that your legs would hold your weight, but they didn’t have a chance to fail you. As soon as you were facing Alastor, he had you pushed back onto the desk, papers sliding under your back. He wrapped your legs around him and thrust in, not caring for being slow or soft. 

The head of his cock pressed up against your stomach, bulging it slightly as he bottomed out. Each sharp thrust left you feeling fuller than ever. You struggled to breathe as his cock punched up into you. 

Hungry eyes watched as your breasts bounced. You were sure that his grip was going to leave ghosts of the encounter on your skin that would linger for days. Becoming aware of the racket you were making, you pressed your forearm against your lips to muffle the sound. 

Alastor grabbed your wrist, pulling your arm away without missing a beat. Any chance of muffling your moans was lost as he pinned your wrists on either side of your head. The change in position seemed to result in an even deeper thrust as he folded over you. Hot breath washed over your breasts as his eyes roamed your skin. 

Zeroing in on the blood bubbling up from the small cuts on your breasts, he leaned down and ran his tongue over each, cleaning away the blood. You moaned, back arching as he took the bleeding nipple between his lips, suckling hard as he encouraged it to bleed more. He moaned deeply at the coppery taste of your blood mixing with the scent of sex and the way your cunt clung to his cock. 

“I can’t,” you moaned, head thrashing back and forth as your core tightened, orgasm dangerously close again. “Please, I can’t.” 

“You will,” Alastor promised, grinding his pubic bone into your clit with each painfully deep thrust, pushing your orgasm closer and closer. “This is what you wanted.” 

“Please,” you cried out as the pleasure grew painfully, “Please, please, please!” 

You came with a scream, voice bouncing off the walls of the small room as your walls clamped down on his cock. Alastor’s pace grew sloppy, though no less harsh, as he chased his own completion. Each breath coming in a deep groan and whispered curse as he fucked you through your orgasm. As your body shuddered around his cock, he his pace stuttered as he painted your walls with his seed. 

He fucked into you, each lazy thrust not offering you any softness as he pulled your hips tightly to him. Eventually he stilled, hot breath washing over your breasts as he looked down at you, eyes dazed as his cock twitched in your sore and overly sensitive hole. 

“I hope the tone of your fan mail changes, going forward,” he said, as he pulled his softening cock from you. “Clean yourself up. I’ve got to get on air in fifteen minutes.” 

“Yes, sir.” It was a struggle to make words form through the fog in your mind. 

“See yourself out.” Alastor said, as he straightened his clothes, making his way toward his office door. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at where you still laid upon his desk, chest heaving and bare-breasted, cunt leaking his seed onto whatever unlucky paper happened to be under you. “And I expect you to hand deliver any future letters. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Alastor,” he said. “My name is Alastor. Use it.” 

[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]

xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx

xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx

A/N: Photo/Fanart Credit to @/Nyer_roth on Twitter (hiatus)

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM/CAT HYBRID DEMON READER ]

xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx

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,”

xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx

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 🖤

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Cw: threats to reader with a knife.

You're out for a walk in the woods, when you come across Alastor of all people, walking along, your eyes widen as he spots you at the exact moment you spot the bloody knife in his hand.

Startled, you step back and look around nervously before focusing on Alastor once more in horror.

You: "A-Alastor? W-What are you doing here?"

You try to keep your voice steady, innocent, heart pounding in your chest.

Alastor: "Why I just wanted some peace and quiet, my Dear, a nice calming walk, just as I'm sure was your purpose for being out at such an hour, hmm?"

Internally he berates himself, he had been courting you gradually and now this?! How... Sloppy.

Your eyes dart to the knife in his hand, fear creeping into your eyes, to Alastor's dismay but also advantage.

You: "W-Why do you have that?"

His smile grew wider as he saw the fear in your eyes.

Alastor: "Oh, this? Just something I carry around for protection."

He chuckles lightly, taking half a step closer to you.

Alastor: "But I must say, I wasn't expecting to see you here. It's quite a surprise, a pleasant one."

Alastor lies, trying to stop you from running, trying to charm his way into relaxing you.

Alastor: "I hope you don't mind if I join you, after all it'll be more safe and fun that way don't you think?"

Alastor's tone is filled with amusement. You feel nothing but terror in his presence right now, a hard contrast to the affable charming man you always felt at ease around before... Maybe even loved.

You take another step back, feeling uneasy about his proximity and the knife.

You: "I-I don't know, Alastor. I-I think I prefer being alone right now."

You swallow hard, trying to hide your anxiety. Despite your efforts to sound confident, your voice trembles slightly, betraying your fear.

You: "P-Please, just leave me alone."

You plead, breaking the pretense and hoping he would listen. Alastor tilted his head to the side, studying you intently, how interesting, you were certainly different than the others... Perhaps he wouldn't kill you... Yet.

Alastor: "Ah, but where's the fun in that?"

He took another step toward you, closing the distance between you two further, to your utter panic.

Alastor: "Besides, I don't think I can let such a rare opportunity slip away. A chance encounter with such a lovely morsel, in the middle of the woods, it's almost too perfect."

Alastor's voice is dripping with sarcasm, knowing exactly how to panic cornered prey into making mistakes.

You feel a chill run down your spine as Alastor steps even closer, your heart beating faster with every passing moment.

You: "P-Please, Alastor. I-I don't want any trouble."

You beg, taking another step back. Your foot hits a tree root, causing you to lose your balance and fall backward onto the damp ground

You: "Ahh!"

Landing on your back with a loud thud. As you fell, Alastor couldn't help but laugh at the sight. You really were making this too easy.

Alastor: "Oh, how clumsy of you."

He walked over to you, laugh echoing in the isolated area, bouncing off trees, no-one would ever find your body here.

Soon Alastor is standing above you knife glinting in the moonlight, you're frozen in fear, heart pounding in your chest, you try to scream for help but not a sound escapes, you're trapped in your own body, paralysed by your own pathetic weakness.

Alastor: "Now, what? Right! I believe I was about to join you."

Alastor smirked, lowering himself to sit on top of you, pinning you to the ground, almost like taking a seat for tea, before leaning over you, knife edge finding its way against your throat as tears well in your eyes.

Alastor: "Don't worry, I won't hurt you too much."

Alastor whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, he even has the audacity to nip at the flesh there, reveling in the shiver that wracks your already shaking form.

Alastor's firm body presses to yours, so warm as you feel frozen, such a parody of how things used to be. You even whimper slightly at the sight of his dilated eyes and the bulge you were sure you felt twitch against your hip.

Alastor: "Now where was I? Ah yes... Threatening you."