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redfoxwritesstuff · 20 days

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Misdemeanor of the Heart (Chapter 12) Human Alastor x Married Reader

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Domestic violence

AN: I'm sorry for the delay, I've been sick since Thursday and most of today. Please accept a 5k word chapter in exchange for being a day late.

(optional fucking off AN): I did try to quickly edit it quickly for posting today but alas, my illness quickly slipped out of control and I quickly slipped into a four hour nap and my condition quickly slipped worse. We must spare a moment of thanks to @redvexillum for quickly slipping in and quickly plunging her fingers into MisD's raw core. This is how I repay her.

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Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The couch was uncomfortable under you. Was it the couch or the way you sat with your back straight and teetering on the edge of the seat? Emotions curdled in your stomach, settling in a ball you struggled to identify as anything more than an overwhelming feeling of dread as you watched Laurence slip on his coat.

For the majority of the week, your husband had hardly been home. At first, it was a welcome reprieve. You took solace in the peace and safety of having the home to yourself in the evenings. You made simple, small dinners that you enjoyed and didn’t require much clean up. The radio kept you company, the rich tenor of Alastor’s voice carrying through the house as you cooked and cleaned.

When Laurance wasn’t home, he wasn’t hitting you. When he was away, he wasn’t desecrating your body for his own carnal pleasures, leaving you sore and broken from serving your wifely duties. When he was away, you could eat to your heart’s content without his biting remarks about how much you ate and didn’t eat. You could indulge without having to hear his cruel excuses about why he refused to let you update your wardrobe to stay on top of the latest fashion trends.

How nice it was to have the house to yourself did nothing to change the simple fact that him spending so much time away from your marital home didn’t sit right with you. It was a wife’s protection to have her husband present in the evening. His absence left you vulnerable, even though his presence had its own danger, at least it was familiar and predictable.

“Where are you going?” The question was out before you could stop it. You feared you already knew the answer, but what harm was there in letting him lie to you?

“Got a business meeting,” Laurence said despite not being dressed for a business meeting. He looked too casual for that, open collar and sweater vest clinging to him, highlighting the frame that had once been nothing but muscle but now held a layer of softness.

It reminded you of how he looked when he would take you out to dinner during the courting days For a business meeting, he would wear a meticulously pressed suit, his hair perfectly styled, and every detail about him polished to a shine.

“Is that so?” It wasn’t your intention to question him but the murmured words were out before you could stop them. It wasn’t a wife’s place to question her husband’s whereabouts or his business. Stay home. Take care of the home. Raise babies when they come along. Don’t ask questions.

Long strides took him across the room before you had a chance to soften your words or make yourself scarce. He loomed in front of you, reaching out quickly and for a moment, a panic you had never felt before flooded your body as his hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed.

Laurence inflicted countless horrors on you throughout your marriage. He’d violated you against your will, used your body while you slept. He’d taken you against your will, he’d taken your body in your sleep. He’d struck you and thrown you, filling your days with screams and pain. But through all that, one thing he had never done was make you truly fear for your life - until now.

“It’s not your place to question me,” Laurence reminded you, squeezing. Your hands reached out, wrapping around his arm as your eyes widened. Gasping breaths struggled to push through the constriction of his hand. Your heartbeat drummed against your ears, beating rapidly from the adrenaline that flooded your body as Laurence ensured your eyes had nowhere to look but at him. “Unless you want to piss me off again. Is that what you want, sweet thing?”

“No, Laurence.” Your voice trembled as his grip slowly loosened around your neck while his lips curled into a sadistic smirk.

His thumb caressed your jaw as his smile suddenly softened. Leaning in, he closed the final gap between you. He pressed a sickly sweet, mocking kiss to your lips, a cruel imitation of the stolen kisses lovestruck girls would dream about.You had never understood the desire to have the lips of another on you. You were thankful when he pulled away and his hand completely dropped from your neck.

Laurence reached into his pocket, pulling his wallet free. It was a crisp leather billfold. It was newer, a recent gift from his father before he had passed. His final gift to your budding family was leaving Laurence, his only son, the family business. The clinking of coins was loud, almost louder than the heartbeat still thundering in your ears as he moved coins around, hunting for a few quarters.

“Here,” he grabbed your hand, turning it palm up after slipping his wallet back into his pocket. The weight of the coins settled into your palm and he curled your fingers around them, touch soft. It was nothing like the harsh way he had been grabbing you just minutes prior.

“Don’t lose them,” he teased you softly. The smile on his face and the tone of the teasing had reminded you of the hopes and dreams you held in the past, when you were little more than a girl dreaming about what married life would be like. You could see the young man, hardly more than a boy himself sitting between his parents on the other side of the table from you and yours, looking at you with curiosity and hope. Was this what that young man had thought married life would have been like? “Buy yourself something nice. Treat yourself.”

“Okay,” you said as you watched him turn, making his way out of your marital home. A small voice in the back of your mind screamed that he was going to the bed of another even though you dedicated your life to being a good wife for him, taking beatings and affection without complaint. You took everything he gave you without complaint in the name of being a good wife. You silenced that voice, strange and out of place though it was. It was just a business meeting. Nothing more. Just a casual business meeting.

It was like you were frozen in place as you waited for the sound of the car leaving the driveway. The memory of the kind man with sweet words you had met a lifetime ago warred with the still too fresh feeling of his hand around your neck.

As the engine faded in the distance, you finally stood and made your way over to the small table that held your purse. There was nearly nothing in it at the moment, it was a few more days until he would give you the money for the week’s shopping. The quarters clinked together as you dropped them into the small coin purse, rattling against a few pennies.

It would be nice to go out, you told yourself as you absently rubbed your hand against your neck, trying to rub away the memory of Laurence’s hand constricting around it. It wasn’t like he had squeezed that hard, you told yourself as you walked through the house, shoes echoing with each step. It startled you, that was all. You overreacted, you told yourself as you stepped out of the back door and onto the porch.

The absence of sun didn’t mean you were taking the day off washing. The air was cool but the clothes would dry just the same, as long as the rain held off, that was. First you would finish scrubbing the smear of pink off Laurence’s collar, ink he assured you, and then you would head to the pharmacy.

The pink smudge on his collar screamed liar. It screamed that he was lying to you. It screamed that you were lying to yourself.

It was just ink, he told you. Paint. Don’t be daft. .

Don’t be a silly woman.

Heavy clouds covered the sky for as far as you could see and the chill of early spring was biting in the air. If you were unlucky, they could mean rain for you but their light color told you it was doubtful, though not impossible.

Excitement sparked in your chest, spreading through you as you saw a familiar mop of brown hair on an imposing figure. He looked tall and lean, even wrapped up in a long coat that would leave other men looking softer and wider.

“Alastor!” You called out to him, waving your arm over your head to catch his attention.

He turned toward you, his smile radiant and welcoming, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made your breath catch. You hurried to his side, heart racing, though you had managed to maintain some semblance of composure despite the way you had called out to him on the street. It was something you’d normally never do, it drew attention. You had to remind yourself to walk, not run, no matter how much you longed to close the distance.

What would people say?

“Darling! Lovely to see you.” Alastor greeted you, his warm smile making your pulse quicken, though you couldn’t understand why. “What are you up to today?”

“Just finished at the pharmacy.”

“And what’s next for your adventures of the day?” Alastor motioned for you to join him, walking down the sidewalk together. He kept himself between you and the street, ensuring you were shielded from traffic and the dangers that they could pose. There was nothing his presence could do to stop a car going off the road but he was far less likely to be overlooked than you.

It was strange how the same action Laurance would do felt different coming from Alastor. Why was that? Was it the way he rested his hand on your back, ensuring you felt secure? When his hand would drop, he would take your hand and tuck it around his arm. Somehow, he was always connected to you, not just walking alongside you but walking with you.

“Probably nothing,” you confessed before remembering, “Oh!”

“Oh?” Alastor mimicked the sound though it did not sound mocking coming from him as it would have if Laurance had done it. There was something about him that put you at ease. Perhaps it was his smile?

You pulled your coin purse out and fished out two dimes. Again, propriety slipped your mind as you grabbed his hand, turning it palm up. His hand was warm in yours. The coins clinked against each other as you softly dropped them into his much larger palm.“I still owe you for how you took care of me.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Alastor offered you the coins back, however you just pushed his hand back. “Helping pick the curtains was more than enough.”

“Then to pay you back for the handkerchief,” Alastor could see that you were not going to let this go. The pace had slowed as you both gave each other near total attention.

“Please? I would feel better about it if you took it. I,” you hesitated, “I don’t want there to be any debt between us.”

“If it’ll put your heart at ease,” Alastor smiled at you as he let the coins fall into his breast pocket.

“It’ll put my mind at ease,” you corrected him, marveling at the fact that you felt safe enough with him to do so. If you had dared to do the same to Laurance you would have been swiftly reprimanded. It wasn’t a woman’s place to correct a man. If you were unlucky, it would be a painful lesson that would leave bruises healing over a few days.

“That too,” Alastor’s smile twitched a bit higher. “I have a suggestion, rather than going straight home and wasting away as a lonely housewife, how about you and I pass some time? Or is he waiting for you?” There was a tone to the way he said ‘he’, refusing to say your husband’s name as if speaking of him more directly than necessary was poison or would ruin the day.

“That wouldn’t be proper.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, feeling the twinge of pain as hard teeth grazed over a still healing split you hadn’t realized was still present.

“So, he’s waiting for you?” Alastor looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“No,” you admitted and his smile grew wider, beaming at you.

“Wonderful, let’s get coffee.”

Your eyes grew wide as you looked around. It would be bad enough to be seen walking together so closely, you realized but to be overheard making plans? You couldn’t agree, this was already far too much risk. Temptation to agree wrapped around your heart. “Alastor, someone could see.”

“Nonsense, the alley is just ahead. My car isn’t too far. You can wait for me, I’ll grab it, swing by for you and we’ll be off.” Alastor motioned toward an alleyway ahead.

“What?”

“Just tuck yourself into the alleyway and you can jump in the car when I pull up.” He snapped his fingers, emphasizing his perfect plan, “I know a hole in the wall joint on the other side of the city. We can sit out of view, have a cup of coffee and pass some time. I can drop you off on my way to the station.”

You hesitated as Alastor held the car door open for you. This wasn’t the best part of the city. Trash gathered, swept into the corners and against the curb by wind. People wearing tattered clothes milled about, some clearly intoxicated. Poverty colored everything, from the people to the buildings and yet the sound of children’s laughter carried down the street, reminding you that there was joy everywhere if you were just willing to see it.

That didn’t make you hesitate any less when it came time to step out of the car. Eyes flitted around, trying to reassure yourself that you would be safe. Would someone run up and snatch your coin purse? Could you blame them when it looked like many of the people were rubbing pennies together?

“It’s alright,” Alastor’s fingers wiggled as he held his hand out for you. “There’s no one around here who would tattle to him about where you are or who you’re with. They’ve all got bigger things to worry about.”

“Is it safe?” After a moment more of hesitation, you offered him your hand, letting him enclose it in his. He steadied you as you braved stepping out of the car.

“Of course, my dear! I’d never take you somewhere I wouldn’t be able to assure your safety.” Alastor tucked your hand around his arm as he led you from the car. Your heart pounded in your chest, only speeding up when his arm would brush your shoulder as you walked closely together as your simple heels clicked along the sidewalk along with his polished shoes.

Part of it was fear. Part of it was something you couldn’t name. Maybe you could, if you let yourself think on it for longer but you were not sure if you wanted to. You were married. This was improper, yes, but it was still just a coffee shared between friends.

The hinges of the door squeaked loudly, screaming in pain from years of lackluster maintenance as Alastor opened it. He held the heavy door open and ushering you inside with a hand on your back, just a bit too low to be proper. Was it intentional or accidental? Did it matter? Why did you care?

His hand remained on your back as he guided you to the counter. It was a small, informal cafe with lively talking filling the air. Most of the small tables were filled with people, talking, reading newspapers but almost all with a cup in front of them. It had a neighborhood feel that transcended social and financial class lines but lacked the suffocating weight of eyes found in your local cafes.

“What would you like?” Alastor leaned into you as he spoke, shoulder brushing against yours, breath washing over your cheek and down your neck. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the feelings that were trying to spark to life within you. “Are you hungry? The beignets here are wonderful.”

“Oh no, I’ll just get coffee.” There was a tremble to your voice that you couldn’t understand. You didn’t want it there. You wanted to sound cool, calm and confident. There was no reason for Alastor to get to you as much as he did and even less reason to let him find out that he was.

Alastor stepped up to the counter, keeping his hand on your back. You could swear that you felt it run a little lower down the small of your back as his attention was focused forward. Or was that your imagination?

“Alastor!” As Alastor reached for the bell, the door to the kitchen burst open in a flurry, a woman with a curly crop of graying hair and rich dark skin carrying a tray of confections. “It’s been a minute since you’ve been around these parts.”

“I drive through these parts every day, Delores.” His voice was different talking with the woman, you realized. The showy transatlantic accent was softer, just a smidge and his words were lighter.

“And now you bring a pretty little thing on your arm? Oh, and she is a darling, isn’t she?” The woman may have been around for a few years but she was as sharp as ever, Alastor was pleased to see. It had been a while since he had stopped in, though as a young man he had frequented this cafe.

“Oh, thank you, ma’am but-”

Alastor’s voice cut you off, “Two coffees, Dee?” He held up two fingers as if his order was confusing before pointing at the steaming pastries on the tray. “Those fresh?”

You could have protested being spoken over but instead simply let his words wash over your ears. It was strange to hear him now, his voice warmer and richer. Whatever this place was to Alastor, it was a place he felt secure enough to just be in, even a little.

“Of course they’re fresh, boy.” Delores laughed, swatting Alastor’s shoulder with a towel. “Ya want some too?”

“Of course,” Alastor laughed and it was lighter, “Two?”

“One for you and one for your lady.” Dolores made quick work of setting the tray down and putting pastries in baskets.

Alastor pulled the coins you had given him from his pocket and set them on the counter as Dolores worked. His hand dropped from your back as he pulled the wallet from his pocket. From his wallet he added a few more pennies and you realized with a flash of annoyance that he was paying for you both and using the coins you had given him to even your debt to do so.

“Hey, wait a minute,” you rushed to grab your own coin purse. He didn’t wait for you in the slightest as he pushed the coins across the counter, ignoring your attempts to cover your half.

“That was supposed to pay you back.” You protested as Delores took the coins, eyebrow raised and a slight smile on her face. She told you both to go sit down and wait rather than do anything to allow you a moment to cover your share of the bill. “Now I owe you again.”

Alastor guided you, soft pressure on your lower back constantly keeping you connected to him as he led you away from the counter. You wanted to argue, to continue to protest but what good would it do? All it would do is cause a scene.

“Oh, no.” Alastor pulled out a chair for you, finally letting his hand drop from your back. He grinned at you, eyes dancing with mirth as you sat in the chair. “Whatever will we do. I guess that just means you’ll have to see me again.”

“Alastor?” You wanted to ask him what game it was that he was playing. You wanted to ask him if he knew how he was acting. Did he know the way it looked? Any of the people here could look at the two of you and see you as a couple. He made it so easy for anyone to assume you belonged to him. Did he care at all about that? Did he care how the idea tried to worm its way into your heart?

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Alastor’s warm brown eyes looked into you from across the table. In another lifetime, maybe this could have been your life. In another lifetime, maybe what everyone saw looking at the two of you could be true.

“You know, Al-” Delores came up to the table, drawing attention before you had a chance to make a fool of yourself in the moment. She carried two mugs, hanging off her fingers with practiced expertise, a pot of coffee and two plates with beignets covered in powdered sugar in her other hand. “You two make a handsome couple. She’s a bit bright, you know, and well dressed but she must not be too bad if you got her on your arm.”

“Oh,” a flush climbed up your neck and face as you realized the misunderstanding.

“You know, your dear Ma would be proud to know you finally married.” Dolores was all but beaming with pride at Alastor as she filled the coffee mugs.

Oh. It was worse than you thought.

You blanched, looking to Alastor with panic in your eyes. This had to be explained, corrected, somehow but you were at a loss how. Anyone could overhear such a bold statement and it could get around town. If you told the truth, right here and now to this kind woman, wouldn’t that look too much like an affair?

“We’re only friends, Dee.” Alastor said with ease, as if he wasn’t digging your grave.

“That so?” The older woman looked pointedly at the ring on your hand. Her eyes on it made the band feel more and more like a shackle as you covered it with your other hand. “Well, we’re not ones to talk around here, missy. What you two get up to and your so called friendship is between you and the Good Lord Above.” She flicked her hand up, waving away some unseen force for emphasis. “We got bigger things to worry about ‘round this neighborhood so don’t you get to fretting.”

“We’re not-” You tried to protest.

Delores cut you off with a warm smile of her own, “It don’t matter to me. I just want to see that boy not alone for once, even if it’s just for a while.”

“It’s fine,” Alastor said simply as Delores walked off. “She’ll think what she thinks but she’s not one to talk.”

“You know her well?” You refocused your attention on him, only to dart your eyes down. It was too much to meet his gaze. It was easier to take in the scuffed and scratched table top and the swirl of the cream you poured into your mug.

“Grew up around here.” Alastor had his transatlantic accent once again perfectly in place as he watched you. You could feel the heat of his eyes on you, burning into you. “I know how these people are, no one will talk. Plus, we’re just getting coffee and Mrs. Dee does make the best beignets.”

“She thinks we’re…” you were scared to even voice what the kindly woman thought. “And that doesn’t bother her? Or you?”

Alastor shrugged and pushed the small plate closer to you. “You should try it, it’s lovely with coffee.” He was silent for a moment, taking a long drink from his still very black mug of coffee before speaking again. “Dee would look the other way if it’s what I wanted. Maybe not approve but she’d look the other way.”

You ripped off a piece of pastry and shoved it into your mouth. It was the only thing you could think to do to keep words you shouldn’t, couldn’t say from tumbling from your lips. Sweetness exploded on your tastebuds, washed away by bitter coffee as you forced down the question that almost rushed past your lips: did he want that?

It was silly. Pointless. Don’t be a silly woman. You were just getting swept up in a fantasy. He was a friend and that was enough. A friend was more than you could ever dare to have hoped for. There was nothing wrong with having a male friend, you were sure, beyond appearances so why did you feel your heart beating faster? Why did your face flush so easily?

“Is she close to your mother?” You asked instead, stealing a glance at the woman behind the counter. You had so many questions about her and her connection to your new friend. “You were right, by the way, this is lovely indeed.”

Alastor’s lips twitched up, mouth opening slightly before closing again as he hesitated. You could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed if he wanted to answer. There were things he held back from people, you could have guessed that. A man like him, walking the line of too dark to be a welcomed member of polite society would have things kept to himself.

“They were close for as long as I can remember,” he finally said, “Right up until she passed. Dee’s been like an aunt to me, regardless of if I wanted it.” He chuckled though it sounded dry, forced.

“She’s passed?” Reaching out, you rested your hand over his. Though you didn’t know the pain of losing a parent, it was etched on his face. His smile fell for a moment, lips twitching down and his eyebrows furrowed and then the smile he seemed to always wear was back in place. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked down and a single eyebrow rose as he looked at your much smaller hand atop his. Instantly you realized the move was too much. Reaching out to hold his hand was too forward. That was something limited to female friends, family or your husband.

You pulled your hand away quickly, as if the touch burned you as you looked away from him. He caught your hand as your fingers dragged down his, preventing you from making any real distance. It was his turn to be forward, weaving his fingers between yours.

“I miss her dearly,” he admitted, “She never stopped pushing me to make something of myself, to not let my blood limit me.”

“She’d be proud of you,” you had no doubt at all of your words. Alastor’s smile, soft but bright, told you how much such a thought meant to him.

“For some things.”

“What do you mean?” You asked as Alastor popped a chunk of sugary beignet into his mouth. You couldn’t help but watch as his mouth worked, sugar dusted on his lips.

“Not everything I’ve done is things that would have made her proud.” Alastor finally said, washing the sugary treat down with a sip from his mug.

“I can’t imagine the great radio host doing anything that would make his mother feel anything less than pride.”

Alastor only laughed, a knowing glint in his eye before changing the subject to you and your childhood. As you sat, talking in that dingy cafe one cup of coffee became two, though eventually he did allow you to take your fingers back.

While he hadn’t been willing to offer much of his life story, what he would share fascinated you. You couldn’t imagine being raised without both parents with the bayou stretching out behind your home. He had come so far and found himself an informal family to make up for the lack of family connections.

All the while, he didn’t make you feel ashamed for your much more comfortable upbringing. He listened attentively as you spoke of lessons and expectations that all resulted in your arranged match with the much more well off Laurence.

“If you don’t love him, why did you marry him?” Alastor asked and you were struck by the thought. Never had you questioned if you loved Laurence or not, you just expected that you did because you should and if you didn’t, you would.

“I- I do love him?” A snort of disapproval came from across the table. “Why wouldn’t I love him? He’s my husband.”

“If you say so.” Alastor smiled at you like you were the only one not in on the joke.

“I do say so,” You protested as Alastor stood from the table, offering his hand to assist you out of the chair. It wasn’t needed but you indulged in the chance to touch him again.

“I’m not sure,” Alastor admitted as his hand took up its guiding presence on your lower back while you walked to the door. “But I’m told love is something magical that can solve the world’s ills and if you have it, even for a moment, you’d risk anything for it. I don’t recall anyone singing the praises of the beatings one delivers on those they love though.”

“Maybe we’ve been told different things” you said, a hollow laugh escaping your lips, the sound shattering like glass in your own ears. “Your idea of love sounds like a child’s story I’ll never get to experience because it’s not real.”

“Who says you won’t?” Alastor smiled down at you before looking up, focusing on bringing you safely to his car. As promised, he needed to deliver you home before it was too late and he would, though he was far from eager to be rid of your company.

Oh well, he thought as he settled you into the passenger seat. There would be other times. He would ensure that he got to spend more time with you later. It would just be a matter of time.

AN2: A note on word choice- I've spent way too much time on 1920's slang and phrases. Calling someone 'bright' in relation to another person was often how one would subtibly remark on differences of skin tone. While this is a Reader insert, by nature of social and class standing, it is needed that reader have some traits to be historically accurate. This is what Dee is remarking on, not Reader's brains.

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 5 days

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

Cw: smut, non penetrative rutting.

Alastor x Reader.

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

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

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

Here's...

Inappropriate Demeanour. Chapter 1.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're so close."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses you gently and bids you goodnight.

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

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

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jyoongim · 6 months

Note

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”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #daddy k!nk #human alastor x reader

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 7 months

Text

Alastor - [TOUCH STARVED]

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

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

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Touch Starved Alastor prefers your presence over anyone else’s in the Hotel. His shadows linger by your side if he’s not physically there and when he is it’s quite obvious to everyone how closely the Radio Demon is guarding you.

No one dares to breathe a word about his behavior but the moment he’s out of sight or ear shot Angel will tease you endlessly. “Seems you have Mr. Fancy Creep wrapped round your little finger, toots.” Your face flushes ten shades of red as the spider demon nudges your side while giggling at your flustered reaction. He knows -well everyone knows how you feel about Alastor- but you’ve made it a point to never let the overload onto your attraction to him.

Even if he already is aware of it…

Angel’s teasing doesn’t help your little crush dissolve as you wished it would, so with a huff and a rushed whisper you excuse yourself from the group. “N-no I don’t Angel and…I’m heading to bed. Goodnight…” Angle snickers at your deliberate deflecting, but says nothing else as you waltz up the staircase, barely listening to Charlie yelling “good night” to you, and failing to notice the dark mass of spectrums trailing your every step.

Touch Starved Alastor listens in on those pesky conversations the others have when it comes to you and him. You’re always so skittish and docile under their prying, blushing at the slightest implication of his attention being on you, and to say it intrigues him would be an understatement. Alastor isn’t one to entertain those who show him affection, let alone acknowledge it, but when it comes to you the overload’s mind runs rampant with devious desires. At first he ignores them, content with keeping your connection to him cordial, and that works for a time.

It doesn’t last forever though.

Especially when you unconsciously tend to him so reverently. You’re a people pleaser by nature -he’s sure of that- but the immediate stars in your eyes whenever he instructs you to do something strikes just the right nerve for him.

It’s always the simplest things, tedious tasks he burdens you with just to see your eagerness to please him on repeat, “My dear, would you be so kind as to hand me that book over there?” Your head lifts, hopeful eyes staring at him as you nod with a genuine smile, “Of course!” You chirp, walking right over to the bookshelf without question to acquire the item, and Alastor watches your every move.

The flutter of your lashes as you pinpoint the object, how you stand on your tip toes to reach it, and the gentle sway of your hair as you finally grasp the book. You’re so sweet, so gentle with everything, and Alastor spends hours trying to stop himself from thinking about your tender embrace being spared his way.

Touch Starved Alastor starts to lock himself in his room or radio tower more often than usual when he can’t seem to keep his distance. His shadows still lord over you but are never seen which makes it that much easier for him to watch you from afar.

His sudden disappearance and lack of socializing affects you heavily. You don’t smile as much and when you do the light in your eyes wanes. You’re still kind to everyone, but choose to sit alone during group activities, or wander the halls humming to avoid them all together.

Alastor takes notice of every frown adorning your face when someone mentions him or inquires as to where he is and for a split second guilt creeps its way into him seeing your energetic mood dwindle at his hands.

He can’t let this go on forever, not when you look so betrayed at the sound of his name, and mindlessly wander towards his empty room every night as if to check on him just to leave in fear of embarrassment.

Enough is enough.

Touch Starved Alastor finds you alone on a rare stormy night in Hell, an old book opened up to your curious eyes as you lay flat on your front across the parlor’s couch. He watches you from the shadows for a long while, studying the slight scrunch of your nose as your gaze happens open a certain line of text, and the way you gently kick your feet as your chin rests on the back of your hands.

He’s seen and met a mass amount of beings in his time in hell and not one has ever emitted anything close to your ethereal beauty. You swear you’re not a fallen angel to anyone who asks and it baffles him how a soul so light could end up here.

Unruly luck….maybe?

Fate, possibly?

He’ll figure it out one way or another.

“Hello, my dear, late night reading I see…” Alastors voice grasps your attention immediately, his usual staticky tone leaning towards normality as you peer up at him with a growing smile. “Yes…I couldn’t sleep,” you respond quietly, relatively shy around the overload, and trying hard not to seem overexcited to see him. You missed Alastor dearly the past few days but it would be embarrassing to show that longing outright….

The deer demon picked up on your excitement right away despite your attempts at casualness, his smile softening as you held his stare and bit your lip. Delicate fanged canines poking out just enough to prick your lower lip.

How adorable, Alastor inwardly muses at your nervous habit and continues with his light hearted interrogation. “Hm, I suppose a restless night can have that effect. ..Would you mind if I joined you then, darling?”

Touch Starved Alastor is elated when you nod gently, shifting to sit up properly, and give him a space beside you. “Of course Alastor…it gets lonely staying up by yourself. I’d appreciate the company.” Your sweet tone dazes him for a moment as he sits next to you, unconsciously disregarding his aversion to interpersonal space…

Odd…

He never situates himself this close to you, always looming, but never actively seeking your side. It’s strange to you at first but as he visibly relaxes you don’t mind the deliberate position he’s taken.

He could very well be tired or you might be hallucinating that he was putting an arm around your shoulders.

Either option didn’t ease the rapid pace of your heartbeat..

Alastor was careful with you, incredibly gentle as he pulled you to his side, and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Such a sweetheart you are, my dear.” He speaks quietly, oddly calm as you hum in agreement, your soft ears flattening as you breathe in his scent.

A smidge of brimstone mixed with the aroma bourbon and pine.

He smelled just like a lovely forest, a secure scent you wouldn’t mind getting used to, and tried to commit it to memory just in case Alastor never let you get this close to him again.

Touch Starved Alastor chuckles lowly when you breathe him in, finding your feline tendencies endearing, and listening to your soft purring become a vocal indicator of how comfortable you felt with him. You’d long forgotten the book, nuzzling your head under Alastor’s chin instead, getting lost in your innocent desire to be under him, and he makes no move to stop you.

If anything the radio demon welcomes your touch, sliding you onto his lap with ease, and that never ending smile of his becoming genuine when you absentmindedly compliment him. “…You smell…sweet,” you hum, speaking more to yourself than him, but he hears you and responds promptly. “Is that so, darling?”

You nod, head lifting to stare up at him through your lashes, “Mhm…I missed it..I…” you pause, face flushing red as the deer demon peers back at you, red eyes glinting with dormant affection as he studies your expressions.

“Come now, use your words dear…” he reassures you his patience isn’t waning with a gentle hum.

Alastor is tempted to watch your plush lips move as you struggle to speak up but it’s hard to resist when you finally whisper a confession -one you think he’ll be off put by…

“W-well I missed you entirely Alastor… a lot actually.” And there you go again, eyes wide with apprehensive hope, and ever present adoration. He’d felt his fair share of adrenaline rushes, experienced the “blood rushing to your head” urges that sinners and demons alike couldn’t resist, and though Alastor prided himself in remaining in control of such things…

You brought them out of him without even trying.

Ridiculous, truly…but the longer you fawned over him the less cordiality Alastor maintained.

Touch Starved Alastor lets his smile soften, deeply appreciating your timid vulnerability, and much to your relief he lets you know it. “Missed me? Well, I must have quite the effect on you to instill such a sentiment,” His tone is abundantly softer than usual, quietly echoing in the hotels parlor, and tickling the nerves in your ears.

They perk up along with your tail as he rests his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly close until the only proper place you can latch your hands onto is the back of the carved mahogany frame of the couch. “Al…” you sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on you tightens a tad in response.

When had he gotten so touchy? Better yet, why?

All logical questions that you were asking yourself weren’t granted answers as the overlord inhaled heavily. Breathing you in just as you’d done to him moments ago.

Your unsteady pulse, rising lust, slight confusion, and underlying fear of him coursing through your veins in waves. Alastor identified each emotion, practically tasting them on his tongue, and his hunger rose again from it.

He could just eat you alive at this rate and from the whine you let out as he trailed his hands down to your thighs, claws ripping right through the sheer white thigh high socks you’d paired with a modestly short nightgown made it abundantly clear to him you wouldn’t mind if he did.

How sweet you’d taste?

How the shaky whines you were letting out now could turn to bashful screams?

How sickeningly perfect you’d look broken, bloody, and marked by him and him alone?

He’d wondered about these things constantly…feverishly…

Touch Starved Alastor lets his mirage of being a “true gentleman” dissipate entirely when you subconsciously roll your hips down on him for much needed friction -and in an attempt to dissolve the pain his scratches on your skin brought.

Fuck. This. Alastor curses himself, swiftly repositioning you both in a blink of an eye. Your back hits the velvet cushions with a gentle ‘thud’, earning a soft gasp on your part that’s inevitably silenced by one of his shadows wrapping around your mouth, and another gingerly snaking round your waist. He chuckles as you squirm underneath him, clearly wanting to be in control of your own body, but what would you ever need that autonomy for?

He’s here for a reason, right?

Why grant you more agency than required?

“Comfortable, my dear?” The leering stag above you chides, grin wide as you groan in frustration, eyes sliding shut as he slips between your parted legs. His red irises show brighter as your lower halves press flush against each other and you shudder from the contact -inwardly congratulating yourself for not wearing much underneath your nightdress to begin with.

Alastor allowed your hands to reach for him, your delicate claws gripping his suit collar as firmly as possible, tugging him lower as you shifted under his weight to grind against him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he half reprimands half teases as your bare slit passes over the crotch of his black dress pants. There was no doubt your slick was leaving a stain and if it were anyone else -in any other situation- Alastor would’ve had their head for ruining his attire.

Luckily, you were to receive anything but his wrath.

How fortunate…

Touch Starved Alastor feels himself going mad when you mindlessly use any part of him you can reach as a bid for more pleasure. Eyes watering, begging him to touch you, help you, and it’s one hell of a sight to see in his opinion. “Desperate aren’t we, darling?” His cooing drives you insane, large hands wandering under your nightgown to trace your warm skin -not helping your dazed state at all.

Alastor purposefully claws at your body, placing surface level scars on it, letting the small droplets of blood that escape his cuts paint your skin and his fingertips. You struggle every soften, train of thought lagging as pain and pleasure start to intertwine.

“….please don’t stop..”

“What a sick & twisted little thing you are..”

Tears run down your face, drool dripping from the corner of your lips, and your cunt leaking all over him and sofa. Blood starts to seep through your nightdress in random streaks and it’s only then that Alastor decide it’s redundant to keep it on you. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” That’s all the warning you get from the radio demon before you feel his claws shred it to pieces.

Thank heavens you hadn’t chosen your favorite one tonight or you’d be devastated…

“Much, much better, ma chère,” Alastor praises you as if the task was at your own hands -and to some degree it was for letting him get this far- and yet your face flushes a deep shade of red as you nod in agreement.

The shadowy tentacle covering your mouth tightens its grip, shifting sharply to expose your neck to him, and Alastor seizes the opening immediately. Taking his time finding your sensitive spots, marking them with his teeth and tongue until there’s dark bruises left behind, and you nearly came undone from the relentless precision of love bites he inflicts on you.

Touch Starved Alastor allows your hands wander wherever they please, quite taken with the feeling of your dainty claws raking down his back, or shifting up to pet his ears. They flicker about at your touch, ever so sensitive, and heightening the pleasure he gets from torturing you. Every sound you make, the shuddering moans against his lips, and the muffled cries that build in your chest when Alastor toys with you muddles his focus further.

Bit by bit you’re chipping away at his sanity by simply enjoying his caress and offering him yours.

Alastor isn’t one to succumb to pleading easily but when you’re given the chance to use your voice and beg for release without a second thought….he hasn’t got the gall to deny you.

Not when you’re looking up at him like you might die if he denies you, so worked up that you stutter, and shake uncontrollably.

“N-need to….p-please let me…come,” you whine as quietly as possible, ears laying flat on your head as he hums melodically in false consideration for your plight.

It’s fueling his already massive ego that you’re poised to come undone when he’s barely done a thing to you and he has half the mind to pull away and watch you fall to pieces…

You’d surely give him a show then, pouting helplessly, or cowering from embarrassment realizing how much of a mess you’ve made of yourself for him.

It’d be pure entertainment.

However, why waste a prime opportunity to see you utterly satisfied by him?

By his mere presence even.

The deer demon refuses to pass up such a rare occurrence, flipping your position again so your smaller frame sits atop his larger one. “F-fuck..” you hiss as you settle on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he guides your hips to keep riding him at a rough but languid pace. Alastor observes you above him for a long moment, smile widening when your hair falls in front of your bright eyes, and your hands splay across his chest to keep yourself steadily upright.

The scratches he’s left on you are still fresh, mixing with the tears that flow down your face, and your arousal pitifully dribbling down your inner thighs as well.

Exactly how he pictured you time and time again.

“You may,” he finally exhales, static completely gone from his voice, and hearing it elicits a newfound spark of heat in your core. Your legs shake involuntarily, hips stuttering in tight circles over his clothed erection as you chased your high. Alastor watches you intently, tonguing his cheek to keep from groaning, and his body running hotter than usual as your cunt drags against him.

Touch Starved Alastor can’t fathom how a soul as tender as yours can dwindle to filth in the midst of cumming. Head lulling at an angle while your back arches just right to define your silhouette in the dark room.

The coil in your stomach snaps faster than you can gauge a reaction. A scream threatening to leap from your chest as it washed over you, but his shadows return, clasping tight enough to muffle it. “Easy, my dear…you wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hm?” Alastor bucks his hips upward to make his point clear and you visibly jolt from the overstimulation he causes.

It was clear he needed his end met too and that brought a grin to your face as his shadows receded from your lips when you quieted down. “No…” you sigh, inching a hand lower to trace over the rise in his pants. Alastor stiffens under your touch, nearly snarling when you palm him slowly, eyes never leaving his as you do. Tempting and sweet as always, “Careful, Mon Cher,” he warns, voice thick with allure.

He’d only come to seek a warm body to torment, assuming he’d take care of his own needs later, but you -the ever so caring sinner you were- seemed intent to shoulder the task now.

You licked your lips, tongue grazing your fangs as your peered down at him defiantly with a warm smile, “M’ not one of your little puppets…” Alastor raised a brow at that, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned forward, “….and I never will be.” You finish your statement, smiling wider before lowering yourself down his body. He lets you do as you please, stuck between observing, and enjoying the attention you give him.

It’s very rare to see the overload so willing to be tested, but you made your stance clear with a singular lick up his clothed length with the softest smile on your lips. “Fuck…” he groans then, static nonexistent again as you playfully repeated the action until he became agitated enough to fist a handful of your hair and drag you back up to face him.

“It’s not very polite to tease, sweetheart.”

You smirk and reach for his belt, skillfully undoing it without breaking eye contact, feigning humility through half lidded eyes“Then would you be so kind as to correct my manners then?”

“It’d be my pleasure, darling,”

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 🖤

#Spotify #alastor smut #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastors radioshow #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #fanfic #writing prompt #writing

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jazzmasternot · 6 months

Text

I feel bad for my future husband bc I just know ima be making him dress up as Alastor in bed. Ima be like

“cmon babe put on the red wig and pinstripe suit”

“Yes honey 😔”

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 3 months

Text

The Alibi

⚜ Pairing: human!Alastor X reader

⚜ Content notes: Reader is a sex worker, Alastor is a serial killer, brief reference to domestic abuse and injury, explicit sexual content, reader is a woman, reader has a pussy, bathtime, cum pooling in the collarbones, the sex is transactional but not like that

⚜ Wordcount: 4.5k

Only about half the men who come to the bordello come for sex. Those are the easier half. The simpler half. The guys who will be happy as a pig in muck to have a girl who squeals real pretty and a wet hole to fuck.

The other half are complicated. Guys need things other than sex. Some of them want someone to talk to, someone to listen to them and unfurrow their brows. Some of them want someone to hold, someone who doesn't flinch and look away when they cry. Some of them have other lovers, men or women, and they use the whorehouse to hide their affairs, paying for you and the room and sending you away to play cards downstairs at the bar.

Then there's Al. Al for Alibi.

He’s a sharply dressed whiplash of a man, a sweet, charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, but this is Storyville- everybody and his brother is a charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, so that doesn’t set him apart. No, what sets him apart is a quality that you struggle to describe. It’s something like grit, you think. Al’s got the eyes of someone who has found themselves sitting in the dirt at the bottom of a well and decided to dig themselves out. He talks like he’s about to sell you the golden gate bridge, and he dances like a man possessed, and again there are plenty of men like that in New Orleans, but none of them have that same look in their eyes. You like him a whole lot.

You keep a spare set of clothes for him, in the bottom of the tea chest at the end of your bed. He always picks you, always picks your room- it's the one with the biggest bathtub and the window with the trellised wisteria beneath it he can climb down. You don’t know why it’s you he picks, but your guts tell you it’s something to do with the red flannel bag you keep on your dresser, the one with grave dirt, dahlia petals and a deer’s tooth in it. His eyes linger longer than a man not initiated, and later you notice he’s got his own- a faded little bag in his pocket.

He always brings you flowers, as if he has come to your parents’ house as a suitor and not to your room at the bordello, and kisses you once, on the cheek, before he changes clothes and climbs from the window. It makes you feel some kinda way when it really shouldn’t; you’re no blushing girl at a cotillion ball but a grown woman fucking men to pay her rent. The sensation of a man’s lips against your cheek shouldn’t linger like this does, a phantom on your skin long after the wisteria has stopped shaking.

When he comes back it's hours later, bloody and wide-eyed, grinning from ear to ear, trembling with adrenaline from whatever it is he's done. His eyes say he’s still in the well; still trying to dig upwards, and it stirs a feeling in your chest that is either pity or envy or both.

You don't ask him where he's been, or what he's done. That's not your job. Your job is to run a warm bath for him, and help him out of his bloody, torn clothes. Your job is to get the soap he likes, the scent in the water he likes, and help him into the tub. Your job is to hold his long, elegant hands in yours as you meticulously clean the blood from under his fingernails, his nailbeds. Your job is to help him down from his quivering maniac high, to stroke the tension from the muscles in his thin shoulders and bring his face to your chest.

Your job isn’t to desire him, but somehow he always manages to stir that part of you too. Even after a day when you’ve been touched too much he is beautiful, all long lines and sharp angles, leaning into your touch but never demanding it. The first few times you bathe him you hope that it might turn into something more, that he might rise from the waters of the tub and ask to know you biblically, but it doesn’t happen, so you content yourself, pitifully, to pleasing yourself after to the memory of the planes of his back, or the feel of his hair through your fingers as you shampoo him.

When you’re done bathing him he allows you to wrap one of the bordello’s fluffy towels around him, and he lies on the bed, his head in your lap, looking up at you as his breathing slows. He likes to talk, just like all men like to talk, and Al talks big. He talks jazz, about the musicians he’s seen and the ones he’s played cards with with. Who he’s had on his show, who he wants on his show. Sometimes he talks like he’s selling himself, like he’s one of the girls downstairs in the bar on a long and unfruitful night and you’re a big spender who just walked in. It’s not so uncommon that a guy comes in trying to impress a girl, but from him it’s downright charming. It’s not like he’d even have to try to get your panties off, but what he wants from you is approval. Your undivided attention. He’s paying, so you give it.

You stroke his hair and tell him how well he’s doing, how his momma would be proud, and he nods like he wants to believe you, but his eyes don’t change. He’s still staring like he’s got his back to cold earth and his face to distant, untouchable stars.

One night you have a bruise on your face from your boyfriend, covered with powder and rouge but the swelling still visible, and he wants to know who has done this to you. Most guys know better than to ask this kind of thing; you’re a whore, after all, and violence is a hazard of the workplace, but Al is persistent.

For once, he doesn’t leave through the window to climb down the wisteria, instead sitting on the bed with you, one long thin arm round your plush waist. Asking who did this, who did this. His voice is sweet as brown sugar, the same darkness underpinning it, as his accent drifts, from bright, clipped wireless polish to something lower down in his register, something more recognizably local. For once in your relationship Al wants something from you, something more than an open window and an alibi for his nocturnal hobbies.

“Tell me, chouchoute.” Al’s mean jazz piano fingers trail the line of your jaw to your chin, his index finger curling beneath to lift your face to his. There’s something more in his soulful brown eyes now, more than the look of a man deep in the hole. There is hunger. Desire.

You feel your mouth grow dry, feel the pulse in your neck. To be wanted by him, in whatever way that is, is a feeling with an intoxicating potency. You like sex well enough, but sex is work. Being touched by him feels like a genuine seduction, the sort that sets your skin feverish and lips chapped from kissing.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” you say. You know you’re right. Telling a customer about your personal issues is not something that ends well for people like you. Guys get involved. Guys get attached. Guys get violent.

“Oh? You shouldn’t?” His eyes are fixed on yours. He smiles like a wolf. “Are you worried about what I might do, once I know?”

The problem is, you want him involved. You want him attached. Frozen under his gaze, you think of the blood under his fingernails. He’s already violent. Every night he’s steeped in red, whiplash thin body sharp and manic. But your boyfriend is a bigger guy than him. You don’t want Al getting hurt. “Would you promise not to do anything, if I told you?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Al gives a huff of laughter. “Let’s make a deal,” he says, his eyes still hungry, his hand still on your face. “You give me what I want, and I take you to heaven tonight. You hear the angels sing as many times as you want. Sound good?”

From most of your customers, you would dismiss an offer like this as male ego. Boastfulness. But Al’s slender fingers give you goosebumps as they trail down over your windpipe, telling you he’s good for it.

Al doesn’t wait for your answer, but he does kiss you, all sweet and soft and romantic, like he’s your sweetheart and you’re on a date, enough to make you melt into him. You don’t usually kiss clients, and it takes you off-guard, his honeyed tongue sweeter than his words as it strokes against yours, still selling his offer. His long musician’s fingers are going to curl inside you and his cock is going to be hot, silk-sheathed steel against your skin and just the thought of that makes you ache for him. You moan against his tongue and his lips twitch against yours, smiling.

“Well?” he says, though he knows your answer. He’s just offered you something that far outweighs the value of what he’s asking. A night of his attention, all for a name.

“Payment up front,” you say, drunk on his touch already.

“Clever girl,” says Al, and from anyone else that would feel damn patronizing, but out of his sly smile it makes you want more.

He undresses you, which isn’t exactly hard- you pick your costumes as things that can easily be slipped off and tossed to the floor, but Al drags his mouth against the skin of your neck, your back, your shoulder, slow, sucking kisses that aren’t quite hard enough to leave marks, but feel like they might. His isn’t a sloppy, desperate gambit, but a studied one, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your face. Fuck, you want him to take you, want him so much that it makes your guts ache with it. You want him to throw you on the bed, point your toes to the ceiling and make you see stars, but he’s not a man to be rushed.

He’s there to taste you, to breathe in your breath. He’ll be everything you ever wanted him to be, if you’ll only let him.

When he loosens his tie it’s with a coquettish tilt of his head, and you can tell he likes being watched. Al slows the process down for you, undoing buttons with a studious slowness, twirling each sleeve garter once around his finger as he removes it before tossing it to the side. When he takes off his belt, he winds it once round each of his palms and snaps it tight, mouth twitching when you startle at the noise. Hurry up, you want to tell him, but watching him is just too damn fun. When he’s down to vest, boxer shorts, socks and sock garters, the point at which most men look ridiculous, he gives you a sultry look and stalks over to the bed where you are sitting, your legs off the edge. With a haughty flick of his head, he plants one arched foot on the mattress between your knees, toes first, and leans forward onto that knee, his face perilously close to yours. You run your hands down his leg, from his knee to the garter for his sock, and he catches your mouth in a light, teasing kiss.

You undo the clasp on the garter, pulling it down along with the sock, and stroking the long, lean, line of his calf. He makes a noise in his throat that’s almost a purr, and breaks the kiss as he steps out of the sock entirely and switches legs. You take more time with the second garter, not least because the position gives you a view of Al’s boxer shorts. He’s hard for you, the small white buttons on his fly straining to hold back the length of his cock, and the sight makes your mouth water.

Al pushes you back, climbing on top of you, and his legs straddle your waist as you slide your hands up his thin sides, hooking your thumbs under the hem of the ribbed cotton of his vest and pushing it up over his chest. He has a hungry frame, not a scrap of softness to be found, just the stark plane of his stomach and the ridges of his ribs under your fingers. It suits him, matches the hunger in his eyes, the hunger that you see flickering when he peels the vest off over his head and tosses it to one side. You press your hands up to his sternum, feeling his heartbeat, and he closes one hand over them, smiling down at you as he frees his cock from its confines with the other. He’s uncut, his tip a deep fuchsia pink and weeping, and all you can think about when you see it is how he will feel against you. How he will taste. How it will feel to have him wedged deep in your cunt.

Happily, Al obliges on the first count, leaning down to kiss you, the tip of his cock pressing warm against the softness of your stomach. You kiss more, rolling, shifting, your fingers in his hair, his roving over the contours of your back, until you are side by side on the bed, skin to skin.

You love his cock. You love the hot, turgid weight of it against your hand, your stomach, your thigh. The way he beads with wetness at his tip, the trail he leaves against your skin like a proof of desire. To feel Al press it against you is a surge of warmth to the bottom of your spine, a building pulse between your legs. He’s not even seeking egress, just sliding that silky solidity over your skin in an act that has you feeling completely and utterly wanted. You touch him, stroking your palm up over his shaft, and he allows himself to groan, rutting into your hand and against your body all at once.

You shuffle up the bed a little, until your nose is level with his collar, then hook one leg over his hip, parting yourself with one hand as you guide his cock with another, so that he rests between your inner lips. He rolls his hips in a slow, considered motion, and it is you who are sloppy; slick with arousal and reckless with desire.

The noise in Al’s throat is a pleased growl, his hand sliding round over your hip. He’s not trying to get inside, not really, just enjoying the sensation of you rolling your hips so that his cock grazes your clit and entrance in turn. He stills your hip with his hand, mirroring your motion with a roll of his hips that has him rutting through the boat of your labia. There’s a purr in your throat at the feel of him, hot satin sheathed steel.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, chouchoute.” Al’s sugar laden bedroom voice brings you back to the present, the vibration of it palpable with your face against his narrow chest. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips though, something for which you are grateful as the zenith of each arc brings new pleasurable sensation.

You speak against his skin, and it’s harder to talk dirty to him than with another client, even now with his cock rutting between your lips. “You could make me come like this,” you say, face hot, and hear his soft groan in response.

“Would you like that?” he asks, his cock sliding between your legs again, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You don’t even say yes, just press your face open mouthed against his chest and shoulder. You feel his soft huff of laughter, his grip on your hip tightening as he angles a little more perfectly, and the long roll of his hips becomes a movement that is tighter and more focused, a back-and-forth that brings a cry unbidden from your lips.

You are swearing, soft and sweet against his skin as he grinds an orgasm from you, the tip of his cock kissing your entrance as his shaft presses firm into your clit. It’s like his lips on your cheek, a sensation that’s going to linger like a phantom in your body long after Alastor himself has left. It’s more than the exquisite sensation, each nerve ending alight, but the knowledge of his desire; his long fingers gripping the flesh of your hip and the groan from his chest as he feels you tremble, orgasm close.

“Fuck,” you breathe, as you feel yourself fall, your hole fluttering around nothing, the entirety of your core seeming to pulse in time. Al tilts your chin up, pulling your face from his skin, and kisses you while you’re still in the middle of it. There is nothing needy in his lips and the touch of his tongue. Rather than an entreaty his mouth is a gift. His hand on your cheek is a gift, his hand on your hip is a gift. And his cock, its weeping tip brushing your entrance. That will be yours, too, as soon as you say the word.

His touch is a flame that laps at firewood, and you bathe yourself in it, pressing your quivering body against his, your softness against his hungry lines. Another kiss, another roll, and you are pulling him atop you, face to face, his knees between your legs. Another man would be in you to the hilt now, but Al is polite to a fault. Patient, he waits for your hands on his hips, your legs hooking around the back of his knees.

You kiss him as you pull him inside you, your hands on his narrow ass as you feel the cry the act pulls from his chest, the shiver that runs down his back. His cock is everything that it promised, filling your cunt with its weight and heat, but what’s more is that it’s his. More delicious than the sensation of him moving inside you is his response; the way his grip on you tightens, his mean jazz piano fingers no longer playing a melody but merely a rhythm that matches the beating of your heart, the way his hips twitch for you, his breath catching, and the way he moans soft against your lips.

When he opens his eyes they are unfocused; for the first time since you first met him they don’t have the look of a man in a hopeless kind of pit. They are the eyes of a man lost in the moment, in your moment. Al is a gift, and your heart tells you to treasure him.

“You feel so good inside me,” you tell him, and it’s no professional courtesy, but an honest and unvarnished truth, words spilling out of you as his cock pushes in. Then Al lifts your legs to get himself deeper, and you are the one who is lost. There’s no artistry to the fuck, but it’s not needed, not with your cunt still tender from your first orgasm and your toes pointing to the ceiling. The sensation is strong enough that it threatens to overwhelm, the metronome of Al’s hips drawing note after tremulous note from your voice box, and the feel of him is sublime. He puts a hand on your mons, thumb stroking your clit, and the sensation of that is something you would willingly succumb to forever. It’s his name on your lips as you orgasm round his cock, and he grins down at you, teeth white as fresh-starched shirt collars.

“You’re enjoying me so far, chouchoute?” he asks, fingers tracing the contours or your cheek, the contours of your bruises.

“Al.” You pause to kiss his fingers, an aftershock that you’re sure that both of you feel running through you. “You are a wonder of a man.”

“Someone’s good at flattery,” he says, a gentle kiss to your lips, but he’s not so good an actor that you can’t see he’s proud of himself, proud of the state he’s got you in, all boneless and glowing.

“But what about you?” you ask, a hand down his warm side, to his hip. “You’re just gonna make me go again and again, and nothing for you?”

“It’s a change of pace for you,” he says, and he pulls out of you, leaving you achingly, tragically empty.

“Who’s to say I don’t enjoy seeing a man satisfied?” you say, your hand finding his gleaming cock, drenched in your slick, and squeezing. Al breathes out, slow and shaky, lowering his face to yours.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, lips against your ear, voice low in his register. “I can spend myself over you, then attend you again as you lie covered in my regards.”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice higher than you intend, and he closes his hand over yours around his cock, nudging you supine as he pumps the shaft. His weeping slit smears against the skin of your stomach at the nadir of each stroke, and you can feel the state of him under your fingers, still slick with your juices. How he swells, harder and hotter, his grip forcing yours firmer until at last he spills himself, a line up your stomach and chest. His breath is unsteady as his cock pulses in your hand, and he strokes a hand up your body, smearing his seed into your skin.

“Now you,” Al says, a little breathless as he crawls backwards over your body, soft kisses in places his cock has marked. His long fingers find your sex, parting your lips and drawing slick across your folds. “How would you like to climax next, chouchoute? My fingers? My mouth?”

“Your mouth?” you repeat, heat spreading through your core. Even here in Storyville, there are not many men willing to kiss a whore’s cunt.

Al’s smile widens, showing teeth, and you realize belatedly that with his fingers between your folds he can feel the surge of wetness that seeps from you at the mere thought. “I think you like that idea,” he says, and he pushes two long fingers inside you.

He fucks his fingers in and out of you, and you bite your lip as you feel him start to press against spongy tissue. Girls make jokes about musicians and their fingers, but you know firsthand that the finest musician in the world isn’t much use if he doesn’t know the instrument. If a guy doesn’t know the curve of your walls, to smear slick up and over the hood of your clit, it doesn’t matter a damn how well he can play the steel guitar.

Al can play a woman’s body well enough to hit the high notes. His fingers curl and drag, and the noise the action brings from you was one you didn’t know you could make. There are tears in your eyes from the intensity of it, and it is all you can do not to beg him for more. All the while he moves down your body, his mouth soft over the skin of your chest, your stomach, your hips. His breath is hot, even in the summer evening heat, and Al is smiling all the while, glancing back up at you to see your expression.

You wonder what you look like to him as his breath graces your inner thighs, his lips brushing teasingly on the fragile skin there. Are you a thing of beauty, to be treasured and worshiped, or merely a needy wretch, trembling and panting, each movement tantamount to begging for his touch? Perhaps both. He curls his fingers inside you once more as his tongue touches hot and slick against your overwrought clitoris.

You had expected his cock, wanted his cock, but to feel his mouth on you is something else. It is bliss. Pure, untrammeled bliss. He leaves you with nothing but sensation, the flat of his tongue pressing, laving, until it becomes too much and you want to cry out, then the seal of his lips on your slick, engorged flesh, a little suction, a noise of appreciation in his throat. You stop watching, surrendering fully, his long fingers hitting a sweetness as his tongue strokes on bliss. There are no thoughts in your head anymore, only his touch. Your hips are bucking, uncontrolled, your fingers in his hair, and still he gives, his honeyed tongue sweeter than even his words had been.

It’s with a broken cry that you cum on his fingers, and he stills for you, breath hot on the lips of your cunt, fingers still inside you as you tremble and quake.

He crawls up your body again, folding your limp form in his long, thin arms, a pleased hum in his chest.

“You’re satisfied with my end of the bargain, I hope?” he asks, and it’s not a mercenary question from him, paired as it is with a kiss to the top of your head.

The notion of proposing marriage to him swims through your sex-addled brain before you remember that jobs are thin on the ground in Louisiana right now and you have rent to pay. You swallow down romance and sentiment, which is difficult with those arms around you, but you manage it. “You best not set up shop here,” you say. “The girls downstairs would be spending their whole night’s earnings for just a couple minutes with you.”

“That’s a good thing, surely.”

“They’d make themselves destitute.”

You feel his thin chest shake as he gives a soft bark of laughter, but there’s relief in there too, and gratitude. He holds you a little tighter, longer than he needs to. You let yourself enjoy it.

“The name?” he asks, when that moment of softness has passed.

“Elijah,” you say. “My boyfriend.”

“Former boyfriend, I’d hope,” says Alastor, pointedly. He has the hungry look in his eyes again, the look like he’s trapped and digging his way out. The look you like.

You touch your face, where the bruise is swelling beneath your makeup. “Sure looks like it’s going that way, yeah.”

Alastor leaves by the window that night. You fold his clean clothes and put them in your tea chest, in case he comes back, his little sleeve garters and his ribbed cotton vest and all of it, smelling faintly of him. He doesn’t return.

The next morning, when you go back to the rented room that you share with your boyfriend, there’s no sign of him, either.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin x reader #no antlers tho #alastor x oc #alastor smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #human!alastor x reader

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weediewrites · 4 months

Text

New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

#alastor x reader #human alastor #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor radio demon #alastor hartfelt #alastor x wife reader #female reader #no smut

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sugoi-writes · 4 months

Note

REQUEST TIME :333 ummm this is actually my first time requesting here but I’ve been so obsessed with Human Alastor so maybe a sexy thing where he hunts you (fem reader) down in the wooded near his cabin with his shotgun? This is so dangerous lol but he’s shooting and splitting trees as you zip pass them in your nightgown (he would never shoot you it’s for the flare) you stumble over an old stump and he is on your ass! You fight and tumble around before he’s dragging you by your ankles back to his cabin to have his way with you? (All of this was very much consensual between the two of you elaborated foreplay if you will!)

Trigger Happy - Human! Alastor x Fem!Reader

My friend in Satan, I am SO sorry for how long this took! I was honestly getting worked up over it!!! Hate the delay, but I hope the story itself will be worth it! Just as a warning, this is getting towards risky territory, but I promise nothing too bleak. A few warnings: Guns, a heated foot chase, you get distracted there for a while, some physical violence/tussling, f!reader, some f!oral and m!oral, overtsim, rope/restraints, and some REALLY filthy penetrative sex. Y'all are some absolute freaks in this one. Hope you enjoy! (ALSO THIS IS LIKE INSANELY LONG IM SORRY ITS LIKE 9K--)

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes for helping me through this and being my scream queens/beta readers dhoduhdouhdoduhdohidoi <3 (I'm in love with both of you BLINKBLINK)

Taglist: @ieatcocoa @nocturessa @tsukikos-stuff @leviskittywh0re

@polyo-nym-y @cosmiccandydreamer @littlebluefishtail @your-excellenc-z21 and others (if you wanna be tagged I'll add you! Sorry I've never made a taglist before???)

🩸🦌🩸

Your hands fidgeted in your lap as Alastor finished the final touches of tonight's meal. You regarded him nervously as his humming filled the humble interior of his inherited cabin. He was in such a good mood, you thought... Why spoil something so tender and domestic between the two of you?

For a while now, you knew of your darling beau's aversion to many things, physical intimacy being one he struggled with most. At least, compared to most... You hardly minded, as when you were on the receiving end of such of intimacy... Well, let's just say you could usually expect to be bedridden for a few hours. You swallow the bile creeping up, nerves reflected in your voice as you spoke," Alastor, dear?"

A pair of kind, almond-colored eyes looked upon you, making your heart leap. Alastor's eyes turned a warm amber when exposed to the charming lighting provided by the fireplace.

"Yes, darling?" Alastor cooed, his tone still airy and filled with a domestic softness.

"Could we... could we talk for a moment? Before dinner?"

Your partner gave you a bemused look, as if he were asked a ridiculous question. His hands settled on his hips as he rocks his weight onto his other foot, eyebrows raising.

"Dear, why let the food grow cold? Could we not discuss it over dinner? I tell you, it's JUST like my mother's; it's hearty, filling, and--"

"Alastor," you interrupt, a stern bite cutting through your meek tone," Pl-Please... If I try to tell you while you're eating, you'd probably choke." Alastor grants you an interesting look, eyes widening with your change in demeanor. But of course, he relents, sighing like a demure housewife.

"Well then, who am I to refuse... Choking is rather unpleasant, anyhow." Quickly, Alastor fusses over your meal, dousing the fire to let it simmer.

"Now then: we have a few minutes before I need to stir it. Tell me... what's troubling you?"

You gesture for Alastor to sit with you, to take his place at the table. He silently moves towards it in confident, wide strides. You watch nervously as he sits, crossing his legs formally. You felt the sweat trickle into your brow as his simple actions felt like they took an eternity... Alastor then sets his elbows on the table, resting his chin upon his folded hands. He looked... entirely too comfortable, a stark contrast with your stiff spine and sweating palms.

Alastor watches you quietly, granting you a moment to collect your thoughts. And then, you speak:

"Alastor... you know how-- well, it's been a while since we last-- Uhhm..." The quiver of your lip tips your partner off immediately, his eyes squinting. The smile that plays on his face is telling, his teeth gleaming under the dim light.

"Oh honestly, what am I to do with you? Yes, of course we can try for a little romp tonight. But... I sense that our standard 'bedroom practices' aren't the only thing clouding your mind?"

He just didn't get it. He didn't understand the weight of what was on your mind, and how quickly it was going to hit him. You were thinking of this for weeks, terrified of his reaction... But, in the comfort of the cozy, warm cabin: it was now or never. You felt a tinge of guilt as you felt his flirty smile widen, ready to shatter his expectations.

You nod in affirmation, forcing yourself to look his way fully," Right. I have an idea. Something to... change things up. 'Make it a bit more interesting, if you'll hear me out."

Alastor hums pleasantly, one of his hands gesturing outward in an animated way. He regards you just the same, opening the floor to you. You steel your nerves, hands turning to balled up fists as you formulate your next thought bluntly," I want you to hunt me, Alastor. I wanted to be hunted."

A silence befalls the room, causing panic to rise in your chest. Your chaste, Creole partner stares back at you, eyes wide. His expression was damnably neutral, as if processing your demand. You immediately start onto a tangent, leaning forward as you make your case.

"L-Look, I know how that sounds... I don't want you to actually hurt me or kill me-- I mean-- I feel like you'd be terribly sad if I were gone, but-- No, I mean in a more..."

When you trail off, you expect Alastor to pick up on your meaning. You sigh with frustration, your hands mirroring each other as they mimed your body's curves and contours," ...sexual... way."

Alastor's expression morphs under the light of the fireplace, which burned dutifully. Alastor's black pupils dilate, his mouth falling ajar. He sits upright in his seat, leaning back as he takes everything in.

" You want me to... pursue you. Hunt you... like I would wild game? Is... Is that what you're asking?"

You nod firmly, your hands trembling," I-I know, I know... it's different. I told you it would be different--"

"Different is hardly a bad thing, mon cherie... 'just surprising, is all," Alastor drawls, his eyes softening. He could see how much you were worked up. You were scared to disappoint; scared to be rejected. He hated to see the soured look on your face, and was determined to replace it with something else," What exactly do you have in mind? This-- pursuit of ours... what are the conditions?"

It was now your turn for your face to morph, a mix of surprise and relief, a faint heat brewing in your stomach," Well... I'd like you to treat it like a legitimate chase. I could be a deer, in a sense... something to bring home for dinner. You'd chase me, and I would do my best to fight back, run away...," your eyes wander over to the shotgun by the cabin door, eyes glazed from your impure thoughts," But I don't want you empty handed. I want... I'd like for you to bring the shotgun. Use it, even... as long as you don't actually try to kill me." Alastor's expression, you swore, was now the rawest it's been since you've first met him. His heart was on his sleeve: confusion, shock, delirium, and... some sort of desire. A hunger.

Alastor smoothly rises from the table, his footsteps almost echoing in the silence. He makes his way to his nightstand, fishing out something you couldn't see. When Alastor turns towards you, you hear a familiar clink, as his revolver shines in the warm light. He opens the chamber, showing to you that it is empty, before sealing it with a resolute spin. Your fists unclench, and you let out a breath that you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Dear, as lovely and authentic as it would be... I would hate to bring the shotgun. That tool is far too accurate and far too deadly, even in an inexperienced person's hands. A round so small can tear a hole wider than your skull, given the proper range..." When Alastor returned to the table, he sets the empty revolver there, your heart thumping at the implications. He slid it towards you, as if a peace offering," I wonder what may have caused this idea to fester... But it's one I'm most certainly intrigued by," he offers simply. You tried your best not to look away, his smile exposing just how fascinated he was with your proposal. His eyes were a dead giveaway: he was more than willing to carry this act out.

Your hand ghosts over the revolver, the wood of the grip much warmer than the cool metal of the barrel. Alastor clears his throat, calling your attention back to him," If I may, dearest, I also have a request..."

You feel your heart thudding loudly in your chest, the loud pulse making you deaf to the rest of the world.

"Which is...?" you attempt to counter smoothly, but the breathiness of your tone gives you away. Alastor's eyes squint, familiar with that lilt of yours. He relished seeing you like this: embarrassed, sheepish... But most of all, you felt an overwhelming desire to have him agree; have him take charge. His ego bloomed right under your nose... He wanted to see just how badly this desire had been burning inside of you.

"Do you recall the nightgown that you wore when we first embraced, love? The white little number with lace trim?" You nodded immediately, a heat rising in your face as you recalled your first night with your partner," Y-Yes... yes, I think I have it with me, actually."

Alastor moves over to your side of the table, kneeling down to your height. He grabs your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his eyes. You couldn't help the spark of desire that shot up your spine as a wicked smile stretches across Alastor's face," Good. I'd like to see it thoroughly ruined once I'm done with you."

You swore you had a stroke, your eyes wider than the dinner saucers that set the cozy, oak dinner table. You were brought back to reality as Alastor patted your cheek, practically singing when he spoke again.

"Now: let's eat. You'll need this to have your strength, dear~ The hunt starts this evening. Once dinner is finished, you'll have until I fully load the revolver to run. And that's when I'll come for you... understood?"

You had all but forgotten how to breathe, a stupefied nod his only reply as Alastor went back to the stove," Ohhh, almost forgot! We still have some bread from last night! I hope that's alright, dear~"

You were almost numb from the overwhelming sensations and emotions that coursed through your body. You were so excited and so nervous that you couldn't even think of eating. But Alastor had worked so hard to make you a fresh, homecooked meal... who were you to let it go cold? Despite yourself, you happily devoured the entire course, and were soon given seconds. Alastor grants you a coy smile, his expression saying what he kept silent: eat up. You're gonna need it.

---

Like the dutiful partner you were, you helped Alastor clean every dish and utensil used to prepare dinner. Ever the vixen, you even smeared some of the broth across his cheek, just to lick it off. The act made Alastor shudder, but he spared you, merely squeezing your hips and giving you a kiss. As for tonight... well, you wondered just how gentle he would be... if at all.

Once you had dried the last utensil, your ears perked up at the sound of a metallic clink. Your eyes widened, head whipping around to see Alastor opening the barrel to his revolver. He glances towards you, a neutral smile on his face," Oh! Sorry to startle you, dear. Just filling the chamber. 'Thought I heard something stalking outside... I might have to investigate it. You can never be to careful, these days."

You gasped, eyes dilating as you shook with anticipation. Now, now was the time.

You sprinted over to your suitcase, throwing it on the bed as you frantically searched for your nightgown. He was eager to start too, it seemed--

Click. First bullet loaded.

"I say, what a strange time of year...," Alastor rambled as he spun the glistening chamber, pushing up his glasses with the wrist of his other hand. The second bullet was clutched in his fingers, the rest scattered on the counter. You nearly shrieked as you frantically tear off your loungewear, exchanging it for the gown that Alastor requested. He would have thought the action was adorable and meek, if it weren't for his desire to fuck you stupid.

A bemused chuckle fills the air, dark and full of promise.

"What do you think is out there right now, love? A little rabbit, perhaps? With a fluffy white tail?"

Click. Second round.

You made your way hastily to the door as Alastor watched you, wiping the barrel of his revolver with the edge of his flannel. He was taking his time and making this spectacle: that you knew for sure. He seemed aloof, unbothered by your accelerated heartrate... but it agonized him to no end. This zesty little suggestion already had his mind reeling, possibilities of how he would claim you crossing over him every time he blinked.

"No, perhaps it's a deer? A doe, even? I hear it's about that time of year... mating season, that is." Your face grew hot at the notion, cursing yourself for not better preparing for this. You made sure to pull on your hiking shoes, tying the laces tightly. You prayed that they'd stay on to protect your feet.

Alastor hums with curiosity, blinking. Another image of you, trembling and moaning under his body, making his nethers pulse with interest.

"Ohh, maybe a bobcat! Something feisty... I wonder how it would taste?"

Click number three. Halfway through...

You turn around, chest already heaving as you made eye contact with Alastor. He saw you for the deranged, desperate animal that you were. His eyes matched your energy, an uncanny smile on his face. Alastor's pupils were mere pinpricks, the overwhelming expanse of amber and caramel brown nearly glowing.

"I don't know, baby... But whatever it is, I hope it runs fast," you grin to Alastor as he mirrors your expression, his tongue running across his pristine teeth.

"I'd hate to think of what would happen if you caught up to it."

With that, you were out of the door, unable to hear the rapid succession of bullets four, five, and six. Teasing be damned, he was making himself impatient. Alastor made a show of closing the weapon with a hard snap and spin, a satisfying weight settling into his hand. With the gun fully loaded, it just felt so... right. A fascination he gained from his father, unfortunately. Though he did appreciate the skills he learned from the sick bastard, that was the extent of his affection.

He'd have a good number of things to thank him for before the end of the night, as he slipped on his own pair of outdoor boots. When he stepped out onto the deck, he had caught a glimpse of you. That delicate little nightgown was fluttering and fleeting, catching the moonlight. It had to have been around 9 or 10 o'clock at night... A perfect time for your little chase to commence. Not to mention, the cool, crisp Fall air had made everything entirely better; not too hot, and not too cold. For all the weather that permeated in this southern state, Fall in Louisiana had been one of Alastor's favorites. It was his favorite namely for Open Season... and how convenient for him that you were added to the list of eligible, wild game...

He inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of evergreen and pine tickling his senses. He held his breath like this for a while, feeling his chest expand and burn from the denial of oxygen. Once he'd had enough, he exhaled heavily, a shudder running through his entire body. He let you have a decent head start. Now the chase could begin.

---

Your lungs burned from how swiftly you ran, feet carrying you further than you had ever pushed yourself. In that moment, you almost felt liberated, free… as if something had rolled off your chest. You aren't quite sure where this sense of euphoria came from, but you embraced it all the same, laughing breathlessly as your dress caught in stray branches and debris, your boots splashing into the wet, almost marshy forest floor. You breathed in through your nose, feeling a similar pull as Alastor to just take everything in… You were greeted with smells of wood and earth, though, in this part of the forest, you caught whiff of a water source nearby. As if a tether were around your waist, you felt called to it. Your running came to a steady, calm trot, your eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of the night.

You stop just by a clearing, a familiar bayou greeting you. You marveled at the scenery before you, scarcely lit up by the moonlight. You had almost forgotten about your little game with Alastor, brushing stray Spanish Moss aside as you stepped fully out into the open. You smile fondly, a memory crossing your mind:

You, frantically shaking Alastor's shoulders as you try to point out a doe and her darling, new fawn. But, in your desperation, the deer were scared away, frightened by your presence. You had been heartbroken, though your partner swore up and down that he saw them, and that even so: your enthusiasm was a much more charming sight.

You walked a few yards from the water's edge, not wanting to chance it; meeting a creature of the night face-to-face was not your idea of "fun"... unless it was Alastor. You were grateful, then, for your hiking boots, as they made navigating the wet earth beneath your feet much easier. However, your foot catches on your next step, causing you to stumble into a nearby tree. When catching yourself, you spy a delicately carved pattern: yours and Alastor's first initials. (You, later on, had added the heart that surrounded them). Initially, you hadn't wanted to deface a tree like this, but Alastor, ever the charmer, insisted that it would become a landmark for you; a way to tell where you were if you were ever lost...

Your hands traced the familiar carvings, the rivets scratching against your fingertips gently. You just felt your heart swell more, the thoughts of your softer moments making your mind fog. Even with someone hot on your tail, your focus waning. You began humming to yourself as you continued your restful stroll, running through moments in your memory that made you feel particularly cozy; safe.

Just when you had felt your safest, a loud SNAP of a tree twig sounded to your rear left. You froze in your tracks, turning feverishly towards the sound. Your once still, content heart was racing wildly, eyes as wide as the moon looming above you. You slowly turned your entire body to face the noise, making sure to keep your eyes focused on the direction you heard the snap. You start to walk backwards, making your way stealthily towards the tree line.

Most animals will attack you with your back turned… facing them will deter an assault, even if for a few moments, you thought… Just before you could disappear, having half a mind to sprint-- a sudden, deafening CRACK rang out, followed by the splintering of wood. You looked to your left again, as you witness the tree next to you receive a battle scar: a bullet wound.

RUN.

You bolted into the thick underbrush, doing your best to stay low to the ground as a set of steady, patient steps pursued you. Had you not had a good distance on him, your hunter's pace would have been undiscernible from your own. It thrilled you; it horrified you. You knew that Alastor had a knack for hunting, and had you known he was THIS committed, you would have asked for a better head start.

A startling thought plagued your mind as you had a moment of clarity, your face paling. You ASSUMED this was Alastor… what if it wasn't? What if this was a wild animal, who had its sights on you? What if it was another marksman, and you were trespassing on their property? The thought made your throat run dry, the instinct to become small and hide winning over your other senses.

You nearly shrieked as a second bullet wizzes past you, less than a yard away, before it strikes the tree to your right. To your horror: it was at eye level. Had this been a stranger… they were going for the kill.

You crouch all the way down to the forest floor, searching frantically until you spy an hollowed-out tree log. You slink your way over, searching for any residents or critters, before diving headfirst into the tree husk. You laid on your back, bringing your legs in as far as they could go. You winced as your knees scrapped against the dead wood. Unable to calm down, you hastily cover your mouth with both hands. You were doing your absolute best to calm your breathing. Think, now, think… you had to think your way out of this mess.

The steady beat of the hunter's footsteps slowed, until they stop entirely. You resisted the urge to sigh in relief, still unsure if you were safe or not. Eventually, you couldn't hear a thing over the deafening stillness, the normal noises of the woods silenced by your escapade. Much like you, other creatures seemed to wait with bated breath. Maybe they were terrified of the hunter… maybe they were terrified of you.

You twitch as you hear the familiar clink of metal, a revolver's spinning wheelhouse catching your ear. You weren't out of the woods yet… this could still be another person. This could very well be a real hunt… A sharp inhale sounds just a few yards away. You nearly jumped out of your skin, eyes slamming shut. When did that hunter get closer!? Had you misjudged how far away you were from him?!

"Only 4 more bullets, Little Cottontail… let's see if you can evade them all~"

Relief and terror washed over you simultaneously: Alastor. Your body was paralyzed with conflicting emotions, breath picking up as you hear footsteps stirring closer. You could feel the panic rising in your face, blood pressure raging; but you can also feel the traitorous, hazy heat that engulfed your core. Either way, Alastor had you completely on edge, your fragile mind was on the verge of caving in either way. Should you run away, or run to him? That was your conflict…

Knock knock

Your eyes fly open as you dare to look between your bent legs, spying a pair of steely, hungry brown eyes. Pupils mere pinpricks, the whites of his eyes were nearly glowing under the light of the moon.

"There's that sweet, little rabbit!"

You shrieked as you were pulled out of the log, knees and back scrapping against the wood of your shelter. When you met solid earth, you kicked and fought, eyes wide and animalistic. Your body still fell into conflict; you wanted this to be a real chase: FIGHT BACK. Alastor was quick to avoid your kicks, straddling your hips as he tried to restrain your flailing arms. Never did you make contact, but Alastor was cautious to avoid any accidental hits, all the same.

"Oh dear, was I wrong after all? Am I really still chasing a scared, feral little rabbit~? Or something bigger…" Alastor teased, managing to seize one of your hands. It was immediately pinned above your head as you thrashed, grunting and groaning in your efforts to escape. Alastor pressed further into you, eliciting a tight -lipped moan as you felt an unmistakable hardness rub against your core. He was enjoying this much more than his face allowed him to show…

"Be a good little pet, won't you? Won't you let me take you back to my cabin? I promise I'll make this quick and painless~"

You thrashed your head back and forth. You didn't want this to be quick. You didn't WANT it to be painless. You wanted more. MORE of this.

In a daring fit of heightened hormones and rushed decision making, a loud SLAP filled the air. You panted as your hand stung, Alastor's face now jerked to the left, looking away. A flushed, red print was painted across his handsome face, his eyes wide with disbelief. He sat there like this for a few moments, his grip on your hand all but gone. You took this opportunity to slink out from under him, using his dumbfounded expression as a gauge. Truly, how long did you have until he was grounded?

Sadly, it wasn't long, a slender hand cupping the offending, fading mark. You looked down as you saw something move, your mouth watering: his cock was even harder than before, twitching from the sudden outburst. A shaky, broken sigh left Alastor's trembling lips as he slowly looked back towards you. A deep dusty rose flooded his cheeks as he chuckled, his voice full of a wicked venom. His free hand fished for his revolver, the barrel now pointing straight at you.

"Alright, then… no more playing nice."

You immediately vaulted out of the way as a third shot rang out, impacting the earth you had just been sprawled upon. Alastor elegantly got to his feet, like a regal vampire exiting his coffin. He pressed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, pupils wide with desire as he watched you bob and weave into the trees.

"Three more to go," he growled, his grin widening madly as he broke out into a frenzied sprint.

The panic was steadily rising, as did your burning desire. You realized, with horror, that Alastor's pace nearly went in double time, and he was steadily gaining on you. And so, you figured if you were truly to get caught, it might as well be a trap for him too--

BANG

Shot number four rang out, a terror-filled scream igniting the night; this shot was less than a foot from your trembling, straining right leg. You muscles were scorched from the effort you put yourself in, core fully engaged as you tried to focus on breathing. You were unsuccessful, already far too overworked and overheated. You came to the harsh realization that you couldn't run much longer.

You started charting your course carefully, taking dips and turns in hopes to throw Alastor off of your trail… but ever the clever man, he never lost sight of you. And, despite your best efforts, he was nearly on top of your imaginary cottontail. You dared to look behind you, searching for the madman coming for you, only to see he was no where in sight. Your pace slowed down, confused as his footsteps cease. You came to a dead stop, spinning around wildly to find any sign of your darling partner. Your mouth ran dry as you panted, legs nearly giving out from under you. As you took in your surroundings, you feared that you may be lost… truly, genuinely lost.

"A-Al… Alastor? Baby...?" you rasp between pants, a hand coming up to your heaving chest. You take a few, cautious steps back towards the direction you came from, squinting harshly. Your eyes still had not adjusted to the low visibility of the dank, dark forest.

"A-Al… AL?!" you call desperately, scared that you may have lost him, or worse: maybe he was injured... You go to take off again, before a hand snakes around your throat. You couldn't scream as the hand squeezes your pulse, a cold, metallic object pressed into your lower back. Your fear transformed into relief, which transformed into desire, all within a span of few seconds. Familiar, heated lips brushed against the shell of your ear. Alastor's breath was heavy on your skin.

"I guess I didn't need all of my rounds, after all." Alastor nearly purred, despite his labored breathing. His warm breath followed his lips as they came to the junction of your jaw and neck, three fingers unfurling from your pulse. This left him just enough room to litter the bared skin of your neck with short, open mouthed kisses, your eyes fluttering closed. Even with only two fingers squeezing your throat, you still felt lightheaded, unable to escape. You shuddered under his grasp, your body instantly surrendering to his desire. It was official: the chase was officially over. Alastor knew that the moment you sighed into his touch.

"Good girl~"

In a rapid succession, you were grabbed and hauled over Alastor's wide shoulder, his free hand tucking his revolver away. Your hands flew down to grope and run over Alastor's body, your lungs still exhausted from the strife of running away. Alastor allowed your hands to explore, appearing unphased as he carried you out of the woods. He resisted every fiber in his being to not bend you over and fuck you into the damp earth; a filthy act for a filthy-minded girl like you. But, he had at least some modicum of class… he needed to make this last; he would ensure this was something you wouldn't soon forget.

-- You felt embarrassed by how rapidly your heart beat, how frantically you were tugging at Alastor's flannel, but when your eyes looked up to a different building, your heart nearly stopped. You were walking toward 'the shack', Alastor called it… THIS was where he took all of his wild game after hunting them down. Seeing your unease, he slapped you on the ass, hoping to chase away your nerves," Don't worry, darling… I told you I would be gentle~"

His words contradicted his actions as you were practically thrown into the shed, sprawled out onto the floor. Your eyes tried taking in your surroundings, but it was far too dark to see. You yelped as both of your hands were seized and tied with a coarse jute rope, the fibers pricking your wrists. When you felt Alastor leave you, your legs came together, heat still pooling in your lower abdomen," S-Sooo, Mr. Huntsman~ You've caught me~ What do you plan to d--" Your questioning was cut short as you were suddenly jerked onto your knees, your hands now taunt over your head. A few more tugs on your rope, and you were standing upright, struggling to balance on the balls of your feet. You wobbled as you heard shuffling behind you, rope being fastened, and the clink of Alastor's revolver laying on a flat surface.

Alastor left you in suspense like this for a few moments, as he brought his hands together with a satisfied hum. The crisp sound made you jump as if it were gunfire, your cunt nearly drooling as you strained to look for Alastor in the pitch.

"Now then… 'can't see very well like this, can we?"

A lantern was lit just in front of your face, startling you. You realized that Alastor had all but held his breath to get closer to you, those same, silent footsteps deceiving you again. You couldn't find the words to speak, eyes wide with disbelief and desire as you stared back at Alastor's shit eating grin.

"Ahhh, yes… Finally managed to capture you, you tricky thing~," he mused as he flicked the tip of your nose. He chuckled when you wiggled it back and forth and recoiled, almost mimicking the animal he claimed you to be. "No, I don't think you're privy to know what I plan to do to you, with words… But, I can certainly show you." He seized your cheeks roughly with one hand, puckering your lips as he closed the distance between your bodies," But you might enjoy that too, wouldn't you?" Alastor's other hand ran dangerously up your trembling thigh, his face cool and collected as you were practically panting under his touch.

"P-Please…"

Alastor sends you a questioning look, before grinning maliciously," I didn't realize animals could speak, let alone have permission to." A harsh grip on your thigh anchored you to Alastor's pelvis, and you felt the familiar, hardened length on your core. You whined, obeying in silence as Alastor ground against you. His mouth fell open as he pressed his hips again, eager to seek some friction.

"You'd like me to use you, wouldn't you…? Breed this body like a deranged rabbit while you're helpless, defenseless under my touch…" Your mouth watered at the idea, your eyes fluttering as his hand shifted to palm your ass. His smirk was very telling, both hands moving to spread and palm your backside properly. His touch was slow and sensual on your trembling, supple body.

"Or maybe I should lay my claim here… Uncharted wilderness is quite thrilling to explore, don't you think?" His breath was so low it rattled his own ribcage. Without warning, a groan was torn from both of your throats as you bucked into Alastor's hips. Your eagerness was not unwelcomed...

Alastor was rewarded with another broken, wanton moan for his scandalous ideas and his wandering hands. He realized, in that moment, he was telling you exactly what he wanted to do to you. And, in that same moment, he decided that he didn't fucking care.

"Or maybe… maybe I can't wait--" Alastor starts to drag his lips down your form, kissing down your neck, then the valley of your breasts, then your abdominals… before landing at the hem of your still-concealed underwear. "I'm quite parched, love… Surely you won't mind if I quench my thirst, first?" Alastor's hands snake up your thighs as your nightgown is pushed up, revealing his current target: your clothed loins. His pupils shrink as he inhales, almost nuzzling into your inviting cunt. You whine weakly when he gazes up to you with mesmerized eyes; he was as bent out of shape as you were, and he was struggling to keep it concealed… Was he really going to enjoy himself, or sink his teeth in? Your heart stuttered at either possibility.

You nodded down to Alastor, wobbling as you spread your legs as far as you could. Your wrists were reminded of their predicament as you tried to move, thrashing in your restraints. You didn't speak, a firm nod your answer and consent. As Alastor kissed your awaiting heat, he shifted your legs onto his shoulders, alleviating the pressure on your feet. Had you not been so aroused, you would be heavily flustered by this gesture: a kindness yet something so brazen, even for your sweet beau.

He squeezed the meat of your thighs, humming as he licked a warm, wet stripe between your covered lips, the fabric of your panties already drenched with your arousal. You swore you saw his eyelids flutter as he sighed against you, diving in more earnestly. You wailed with frustration, unable to feel the full effect of his tongue just yet. You cared very little, however, as some attention was better than none. Your struggled against your restraints once more, warning hands digging into your thighs. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it simmered into a moan with each wave of pleasure. You wanted to scream as Alastor continued to tease you, unable to regulate your breathing or your moans.

He wasn't kidding; he wanted to eat you out like a man starved, his tongue dancing along your drenched panties wildly. He left no surface unmarked by his sinful, silver tongue. Alastor practically moaned around your sensitive bud, your mind reeling at the sensation as your hips bucked subconsciously. Whether it was because he was enjoying himself, or strictly to stimulate your clit, you weren't sure… but that little noise sent jolts of electricity right to your core.

Despite this: you were rewarded with a nip to your pearl, a whiney, breathy moan your weak rebuttal. You secretly hoped he would tear you apart, just to put you back together and break you again.

Your mind refocused as you felt your underwear being moved to the side, a bold, eager tongue now attending to your bare, puffy folds. You shrieked his name, whimpering from the stimulation. His tongue worked dexterously, licking and coddling every curve, dip, and crevice. Alastor's movements were now raw and unfiltered, MUCH to your delight.

Your legs caged his head, squeezing him closer to you as you felt your orgasm forming at an alarming rate. You couldn't help but mewl, head falling forward and limp as Alastor buried his face into your mound. His straight, rigid nose prodded your clit as he drove his tongue into your aching entrance, your taste and scent engulfing his thoughts. You let out a long, satisfied moan as he began to pump his long tongue in and out of you, working both his spit and your arousal in and out. The slick skin-on-skin squelching did nothing to calm the fire behind your eyes, toes popping with how violently they curled. Alastor continued his brutal pace, unable to get enough of your taste, scent, and special, little cries that were made just for him.

"F-fuhhh~ F-Fahhh--! Ahh! A-Al!" you cried, wanting desperately to use your words; you tried to give him a warning. You were near your climax, tears pricking your half-lidded eyes. You heard Alastor grunt into you, hands rubbing and kneading your thighs, as if asking you to crush his head more. You obliged, bucking into his mouth as your release started to approach. He had his mouth full, no doubt! Even so: you swore you heard Alastor moan and whisper into your folds hastily, suckling and swirling your clit to make you cum.

"F-Fuck-- Oh fuck, cum for me, then--"

Your body spasmed, head tossing back sharply,"F-Fuck, Al-- Al!!! Fuck, cumming--"

The dizzying affect swam over you swiftly, a scream that could be mistaken for pain filling the tiny shack you were in. The force and sudden rise in pleasure was overwhelming, almost maddening as Alastor wound you back down. You were gently set back onto your feet, legs shaking... All the while, his tongue never stopped, making you whine from overstimulation.

"A-Al… please, that's-- G-God! You can stop now-- Ahh~" You would have doubled over if your hands weren't restrained, your tongue lolling out from between your lips. The delightful slurping from below didn't cease, and seemed to become even more feverish. Alastor smiled up at you, parting for just a moment before licking his slick-covered lips.

" Am I not allowed to have seconds, dear?"

Your face seemed to catch on fire as you try to formulate a reply. However, Alastor's mouth knocked it out of you, head vacant as he continues to ravage you. He suckled on your abused clit, hands holding your hips in place as you tried to squirm away from his devious touch.

"F-Fuck! F-Fuck, Al, please--!!! T-Too much-- Ahhn-- T-Too much!!" you cried, your wrists chaffed against the rope that bound you.

Alastor did not relent, instead pressing you further into his face as he feasted upon you. His slurping and gulping nearly doubled with a grotesque volume, his eyes wide and watching you. You trembled under his intense gaze, rushing towards a very intense, unnecessary second orgasm.

"F-Fuck-- Alastor!! A-Al! Fuck, don't--" you whined, tears streaming down your face as the searing heat of the new orgasm washed over you," Pl-Please-- FUCK--"

Another shriek bounced off the walls as a hasty, overwhelming feeling flooded your loins. You winced with embarrassment as you felt a sudden gush of warmth coat your sex and thighs. Of course, Alastor was on the receiving end, but didn't seem to mind, his tongue only slowing when you were practically sobbing into the afterglow. Your legs completely gave out on you, wincing as your arms held your entire body aloft," F-Fuck… Fuuuuckkk…" you whined as your head spun, your eyes blurry from the pleased, hot tears that stained your face. A sweet, warm hand cupped your cheek, forcing you to look Alastor's way.

"An absolutely breathtaking meal, darling…," Alastor panted, his eyes warm but still full of a lusty haze," Please… if you'll have me, I simply can't stop there."

When you gave him a weak but sure nod, Alastor nearly bolted to the secured rope, allowing you to descend to your knees. The warm wooden floor dug into your legs as you waited. Alastor was quick to resecure the rope before looping back to you. " If I were to ravage your pussy now, I'm afraid this little show might end early… So for both our sakes…" Alastor swiftly freed his aching cock, a hand lazily pumping his flushed member. Despite his aversion to touching himself, he sighed into the relief his hand provided.

"Won't you please… allow me to use your sweet lips instead, pet?"

How could you say no, with his words tumbling out sweetly?

With a speed that made Alastor dizzy, you beckoned him to you, tongue first. He allowed you to kiss the head of his flushed cock, eyes drinking in your expressions and your body. He had half a mind to cut the rope holding you hostage, but decided against it when you took him into your warm mouth. Alastor hastily covered his lips, stifling a groan as his other hand fisted your hair. You didn't mind, hollowing your cheeks as you took as much of him in as you could. His public hair tickled the very tip of your nose, his musk invading your senses. Had his mind been clearer, Alastor would've worried about your ability to breathe... but he had to focus on not throat fucking you first.

"Shit-- so warm--," Alastor groaned, his voice still muffled. Despite this, his words reached your perked ears, and causing your wet entrance to flutter around nothing. Alastor flinched, his hips spasming as you took him down to his base. He was jammed far into your throat, your eyes rolling back as you tried to relax around his engorged member. A choked noise and a sputter erupted around his cock, a pleased moan eagerly following. As much as Alastor was enjoying himself, you would be lying if you said choking on Alastor's cock wasn't fun for you.

"Fuck, don't hurt yourself, darling-- I don't need-- FUCK--" The moment you started to bob your head, all words and worries flew out the window, the hand in your hair beginning to guide your descent. Alastor felt like he was being incinerated, his body electrified by your wriggling tongue and tight mouth. His restraint was beginning to wane, hair fanning across his sweat-slicked forehead," Fuck, you take this so well-- Take ME so well--"

Alastor panted, hardly able to keep his eyes open as you whined around him. His grip in your hair grew harsher, his hips beginning to stir.

"So malleable, so eager-- Good God--" Alastor's head fell forward as you created a delicious, tight suction around his dick. The sensation nearly drove him to bellowing, your name tumbling clumsily from his parched lips. He stared at the point where his cock disappeared into your mouth, then up to your teary eyes. Fresh tears spilled over your flushed cheeks, his words causing a shiver to run up your spine. Alastor, completely enthralled, felt his cock throb at the sight of your desperation, gritting his teeth," FUCK-- Damn it all--!"

Straining to reach out of sight, his hand ends up landing on a carving knife. Once he could grip it properly, he hastily swings above you. You flinch for a moment, before your arms relax and fall to your sides. You realized he cut you loose, but you had no time to dabble on the thought. Alastor's cock slid out of your mouth, your jaw setting into a neutral, open shape. Alastor started to stroke himself hastily, using his other hand to gesture in a circle," Turn around-- on all fours. NOW."

You didn't hesitate when that dark, brisk command was thrown your way, clambering like a newborn deer. You turn to look back at him, wagging your hind in a teasing way," Don't want to waste a drop, huh?" you teased, a coy smile on your face. Alastor laughed, breathy and high, as he fell to his knees. He easily towered over you as he aligned himself to your dribbling, plush entrance," You know me too well, love."

The plunge of his cock nearly knocked you onto your stomach, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. To your pleasant surprise, Alastor had bottomed out inside of you. There was a slight discomfort from the sudden intrusion (one that wasn't unwelcome) as a strong arm wrapped around your torso.

" B-Bear with me. I'll fill you up soon, dear--"

You nearly cried as Alastor began to move, hips already hammering into your most intimate place at an animalistic rate. You were truly fucking like rabbits, unable to do anything but chase your own desires. Alastor buried his face into your neck, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his grunts. You were unable to stifle your own, the sounds of your ecstasy bouncing around the room. The steady, rhythmic squelching of your privates were almost drowned out by the steady plap, plap, plap against your ass with every brutish press. You were getting close... And as Alastor's voice rose with yours, you realized he couldn't be fa behind. You allowed yourself to fall forward, cheek smashed against the grain of the floorboards as you arched your back," F-Fuck… fuck me, Alastor-- Hah-- Oh god, please--" Your eyes slammed shut as Alastor's pace only increased, his hips angling in a way that stroked your g-shot with every press.

"Yes, love-- fuck yes, you want this? Harder? Faster? Fuck--" He accented your mental demands with more energy, a hand cupping your bouncing, right breast as the other caressed your stuffed pussy. He sought your puffy pearl at the apex of your cunt, and drew quick, deliberate circles into it.

" Fuck, fuck! I need you to cum-- Want you to cum--," Alastor begged, his breath hot and heavy in your ear," O-One more time, please-- then I'll make sure to fuck my-- Oh fuck! I'll fuck you full of my cum--"

Your mouth hung open, drool pooling under your cheek as you felt your orgasm building for the third time that night, your hands clawing into the wooden floor," F-Fahh-- ahh! Yes!!! Fuck me, shit-- fuck me stupid, Al!!!" you wailed, eyes flying open as he pinched your clit. You clamped resolutely around his cock, your body locking up-- Yes, yes, just a few more thrusts--

"FUCK!!!"

You came with a wail and a tremor, your lungs screaming for air as it was fucked right out of you. Alastor, watching and feeling your body unravel under him, was unable to last any longer. He pressed his forehead into your shoulder, humping once, twice, thrice until he delivered a deep, devastating thrust. Your name became a debauched mantra as you milked his cock, spurts of hot, white seed painting your core. You trembled as you felt it being fucked into you, Alastor sighing into your shoulder.

"Sh-Shit… Shit, I love you. God, I fucking love you--" Alastor cursed into your shoulder, his hips stirring again," I-I can't stop-- fuck, you keep sucking me back in--"

You whined as Alastor started to rut into you again, his hardened length not wavering in the slightest. Like an animal in heat, he proceeded to fuck you through his own climax, eager to fill you up again," F-Fuck, I'm sorry-- You feel too good. Fuck, this is--"

You did your best to look behind you, lips clumsily kissing his temple, his forehead-- whatever you could reach," H-Hahn… hah, it's okay! Pl-Please, use me… F-Fuck, you can use me again! I wanna feel you cum in me again, Al!"

Alastor needed little convincing, his overstimulation outweighed by his desire. The cries that dripped from your mouth were sweeter than the honey and slick between your legs," G-God-- God, mon amour-- FUCK!"

You were smiling deliriously as Alastor used your sensitive cunt to chase another high, head foggy and vision blurry. You could do nothing but whine and shake as you were not only fucked through your orgasm, but felt your loins boil with an impending, new release. You couldn't say a word as each thrust pushed a scream from your diaphragm, Alastor's own throes of pleasure mirroring yours. The both of you made eye contact, and for the first time in a long time you saw… Alastor wasn't smiling?

Alastor's brow was knit together, face hard and yet so flushed as his mouth hung open in a wide, desperate "O". You felt your walls flutter around Alastor, the sight almost as beautiful as his trademark smile. Hastily, Alastor pulled you up by your throat, squeezing as you were forced to face away… The growl that was rumbled into your ear did little to slow down your peak.

The smile that danced across your face was unmatched; you had gotten Alastor to completely melt into you, unable to keep his 'armor' on. He was drunk off of your body, and he was unable to hide just how much he wanted both of you to cum. You mentally cheered, unable to shake the feeling of victory as that tension in your belly snapped. You unleash a broken, primal scream as Alastor fills your womb with another load, his semen spilling out from your writhing cunt. Completely out of breath, both of your collapse to the floor. You were left gasping and wheezing as Alastor sunk into you deeper, fully sheathed and pressing into your cervix. The sensation just made you whimper into your afterglow, lips twitching as you both wound back down…

You both lay on the floor like this for a few moments-- hell, maybe for an hour-- trying to regain your bearings. Trembling hands caressed your body, while your own reached up to pet and stroke at soft, chestnut brown hair. A tired chuckle fills your ears as Alastor closes his eyes, a content sigh rolling off his chest.

"You never fail to amaze me. And, of course… you never fail to make me cum either," Alastor admits, a sheepish blush creeping across his face. You nod, your laughter just as meek," Y-Yeah… fuck, you… you did all the work," you quipped, feeling Alastor shake his head. He kissed at your shoulders, trailing them up your neck and to your heated cheeks.

"Darling, if anything deserves the praise, it would be your nethers… She put on quite a show." You lightly elbowed him in the ribs, the both of you laughing like teenagers," Or maybe your brain… for coming up with a delicious roleplaying scenario?"

You hum for a moment to contemplate, before sighing," Fair enough… I'll take that," you profess, looking up and back towards your exhausted partner," Alastor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Thank you again, for all of this... and-- sorry about slapping you earlier," you chuckle, your face burning under Alastor's sweet gaze. He seemed entirely unbothered, shrugging," Ahh, nothing but a passionate act in the heat of the moment. Think nothing of it-- as long as you don't mind me slapping this again~" You squeaked as your ass received a playful tap, like a friendly, sportsman’s slap of approval.

"Good job~"

You rolled underneath Alastor, his cock finally freed when you sprawled out onto your back. You invited him to lay his head on your chest, which he gladly accepted. You could feel the tension in his body dissipate the moment he laid down, his eyes fluttering closed. You brushed the hair away from his face, giggling at the adorable sight of your dopey, sleepy lover.

"Alastor... don't fall asleep on me, now. We still need to get back to the cabin." Alastor groaned, brow furrowing. Stubborn as a bull, he nuzzled into your chest face-first, sighing as your heartbeat lulled him," Just a few more minutes, dear… I don't believe either of us could stand, even if we wanted to."

You hummed, patting Alastor on the head as you conceded," Touché… But I blame you for that."

"And not our heated chase, dearest?"

You snort as you try not to laugh, belly aching from holding back," Fuck, that's fair... Maybe we can play a little closer to home next time?" You smile down at your partner as he adjusts himself. Finally, he came up for air as his chin settled between your breasts, his eyelids still heavy from exhaustion.

"Oh sweetheart, where would the fun be in that? You know I love a good chase~"

He moved further up, caging your body with his as he gave you a tender, quick kiss," You can run, hide, do whatever you like... as long as we both have fun, that's all that matters– our legs be damned..." You can't help but nod and laugh, pushing Alastor back into your bosom. Your sleepy beau can't help but hum in approval, your chest a warm, welcoming pillow.

"You're right... that's all that matters. But really, I-- I love you, Alastor. I can’t help but thank you again. For all of this…" Your partner stills for a moment, a dark, intense flush coming across his face and neck. You can't help but laugh as he hides his face into your chest again, sighing dramatically," I love you too, mon ange... For now, I'll settle for saying it, as I'm far too tired to show you again right now..."

You chuckle as you crane your neck down, kissing his crown before letting your head thunk against the floor," You already show me more than enough, baby... More than you know."

The silence is calming, even comfortable as the two of you find yourselves drifting off to sleep. Thankfully, the autumn heat and the union of your bodies was more than enough to keep you warm. Both of you allowed yourselves just one, brief nap while the crickets and cicadas harmonized outside the window... A perfect, peaceful conclusion to a passionate, relentless hunt.

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #human!alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel imagine #human!alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #female reader #alastor x female reader #GOD THIS TOOK TOO LONG HAHAHAHA #ieatcocoa I hope this is what you wanted and like #I get so nervous sometimes dhoudhodhdoidjd #but I wanted to keep this a surprise for you #hdohsosihsisoisjsvdiodius #IF ITS NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY IT IS NOW

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0bticeo · 6 months

Text

alastor | your cracks are showing.

picture this, if you will.

you, having had enough of his antics, finally snapping, telling him you see through him. his mask, that too-wide smile, is imperfect.

"your cracks are showing, alastor."

you spit his name like a curse and he feels his gut twist with something foreign. there you are, you, defiant, arms crossed over your chest, denying him his precious persona.

who the hell do you think you are?

before you know it, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to him, until you meet the hard planes of his chest. he's all lean muscles you find out, writhing against him, trying to break free.

he tilts your head back with one gloved hand. the leather is thin enough for you to feel the warmth of him. if you shiver, lips parting, you'll deny it.

"careful, my dear."

with that, he kisses you, sickeningly sweet. too sweet. too much. your eyes widen at the feeling of his lips against yours, of his teeth nipping against your flesh. you taste blood. fucker bit you -

he growls, the sound rich and deep, sinking into your marrow like he does in your mouth, tasting you. you find yourself clinging to him, fingers tangling in his curls, lightly tugging at his scalp.

he lets you go, tongue darting to lick the remnants of your lifeblood on his lips. he chuckles at the sight of you - kiss-swollen, panting, pupils blown wide in furious desire.

his thumb presses against your lower lip, right where he bit you. you hiss, sweet pain settling low in your gut.

"you'll cut yourself on my edges if you get too close."

somehow, you don't mind.

#obticeo writes #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #tbh i pictured this with human alastor #this man has me weak in the knees #but it can also work for deer old alastor #anyway i'm down bad #yes this is a call to pretty please send requests

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alastwhorez · 1 day

Note

can I request the reader to help undress Alastor after he gets home late?

A Loving Touch

♡ Pairing: Human!Alastor x Wife!Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor arrives at home late, and you help him undress.

♡ Warnings: None, fluff, Human Alastor, you don't know he is a serial killer.

♡ An: Thank you for the request. I hope you enjoy it! Not proofread, possible spelling errors

You were asleep in yours and Alastor’s shared bed. It was the early hours of morning. Around one to two to be exact. You stirred away at the sound of the front door creaking open and quietly being shut.

Alastor walks into the bedroom moments later, exhaustion written all over his face. His hair is disheveled, and his clothes wrinkled, he has dark circles under his eyes and his posture is slouched.

You get out of the bed and walk over to your husband. He gives you a weak, tired smile. You smile back noticing the time and figuring he must have been at the station late working on his scripts. You know his show didn't run over as you listen to it every night. Wanting to support your husband anyway you can. And you love listening to his voice. You could hear him talk all day and never tire of it.

Alastor lets out a sigh as he tells you to go back to bed and he will be in soon. He starts to take off his clothes but you stop him. Your hands wander around his body before landing on his jacket that he must have forgotten To take off at the door. You grip the fabric and slowly slide it down his shoulders and arms. Then you take off his hat and place both items on the dresser next to your bed.

You back over to him and gently kiss the side of his mouth. His hands find your waist and Squeeze before rubbing circles with his thumbs. Your hands trail up from his waist up his suspenders. Once you reach his shoulders you gently and slowly slide his suspenders down, allowing them to hang at his hips.

You drop down to your knees and help him remove his shoes. Slowly untie and pull them off his feet, then you work on his socks. You place them by your bedroom door and the socks in the hamper. You stand back up and unbutton his sleeves. You trial kisses down his jaw and neck as your fingers work on his shirt. Slowly undoing one button at a time.

Alastor lets a sigh escape from his lips and his head tilts back giving you more room. You trail the kisses down his check as you slip the shirt down his shoulders. You slowly go back down to your knees as you trail kisses down his stomach, his shirt finally falling all the way off hitting the floor.

You look up at your husband as your fingers linger on his belt. He smiles down at you as you undo it and pull the leather out from the loops, sitting it on the bed. You bite your lip and meet his gaze as you undo his pants, pulling the zipper down and slowly sliding them down his hips. He steps out of them once you reach his feet.

You stand to your full height and Alastor pulls you into a kiss. His hands on your waist gripping the silk fabric of your nightgown. The one he surprised you with for your anniversary. The fabric rises higher Up your thighs. Alastor moans into the kiss. Your hands finding his hair and pulling him closer to you.

Alastor swears this is as close to heaven as he will ever come. He is grateful you didn't notice the blood under his nails, or the few spots on his white shirt. He doesn't know how he will explain that to you.

Pulling away from the kiss, he kisses your forehead, then your nose as he tells you to get to bed, he is just going to shower then he will be in.

You nod your head giving your husband another kiss before going back to sleep.

Alastor watches you from the door after his shower, taking in your innocence and beauty. Yes, Alastor is sure you are the closest to heaven he will be, and he is okay with that, as long as he gets nice like these.

#i loved this #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #human alastor x y/n #alastor x y/n #human alastor x reader #♡~mazie is talking~♡#🦌~alastwhorez~🦌

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redfoxwritesstuff · 7 days

Text

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 14) Human Alastor x Married Reader

Chapter Trigger Warnings: None, really- just lowkey shittyness from Laurence.

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The smile on Alastor’s face pulled wider as he drove, the world passing by as he hummed along with the rumble of the engine. There were few things that felt as good as watching a plan fall into place. It was plain as day that everything was falling into place.

There was no denying it, though he was sure at this point you still were denying what you were feeling. Everything about the way you acted around him screamed to him he was already winning his little game. It was in your timid looks, glances to him when you thought he couldn’t see. It may as well have been a sign over your head as your protests and flinching away from him gave way to careful eye contact and quiet acceptance.

His grin twitched wider as he pictured the way you would flush as his hand dipped lower down your back, not indecently low but certainly a bolder move. It surprised him how quickly you were falling into his trap but he supposed it shouldn’t. You were such a meek thing. The way you reacted, he was near sure that you hadn’t experienced kindness or proper courting in your life.

Alastor turned the wheel, hardly paying attention to the world he was navigating through. He knew the way nearly as well as he knew the way to his own home. There wasn’t much time, and he needed to get himself straightened out.

Standing on the sidewalk with you earlier that morning, Alastor had suggested a late lunch, more like an early dinner, shared between two friends. It was a bit of a bolder suggestion, far more than stealing you away for a shared cup of coffee.

He had to push, ever so slightly, but after some performative pushback for the sake of propriety, you folded to his will, just as he knew you would. The plan left you enough time to scurry home and make a good start on the cleaning while Alastor made his way nearly halfway across the city.

Alastor took his time, straightening his jacket in the dirty mirror under Mimzy’s watchful eye. It wouldn’t kill the woman to clean it but he wasn’t in the mood to nettle his long-time friend over the mess, this time at least. Long fingers picked at his hair, pulling strands this way and that as he tried to convince them to lie just a little flatter.

He didn’t have enough time to really run all the way home and get himself polished up so he drove to Mimzy’s little flat, near to her speakeasy. It was only fair that he invaded her space. Heaven above knew how often she had helped herself to his home.

“Things goin good then?” She asked as Alastor ran his fingers through his hair, effectively resetting it to start fresh as she handed him a hot comb. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him primp, but it was infrequent, at best. Or at least it had been. “Ya know, your hair was good three passes ago, right?”

“Things are going swimmingly,” Alastor confirmed, leaving his hair alone after passing the comb through the strands, letting the heat pull the slight curl straighter. “She’s proving to be great entertainment.”

“And you’re just playing with her?” Mimzy asked, eyebrow raised as she perched herself against the dresser. It was improper for her to have a man like Alastor in her home, let alone her bedroom, without someone to ensure he didn’t take advantage of her, but she had no fear of him. Alastor held no interest in her, though she had tried to win his romantic affections once, long ago.

“Of course,” Alastor rolled his eyes as he turned away from his reflection, “All just good fun. Lure her away from dear Laurence for a bit and show her some life. Poor thing is just wilting away. You want a supplier who can’t even take care of his wife? Yet you trust him to keep your deliveries coming?”

“Well, I can’t have you as a supplier.” Mimzy watched him, a small smile on her face. For someone as smart as Alastor was, he sure could be daft at times and about the strangest things, Mimzy realized. How was he unaware of how much you seemed to be more than just a passing toy to him?

Oh well, Mimzy decided. It wasn’t like anything could come of this. Maybe Alastor’s need for love, want for romance would awaken with you and he could go on and find himself someone proper.

Each step was measured as you fought the urge to rush down the sidewalk. That would draw the wrong attention to yourself. It boggled your mind that this was the second time you’ve done this. It was wrong. You shouldn’t be sneaking around behind your husband’s back to spend time with anyone, let alone with another man.

You turned the corner into the alley, bowl hat pulled low over your face and ugly orange shawl wrapped around your shoulders as you let yourself relax a little more. Each step took you further down the dirty alley, shoes clicking against the stones as you approached a dark figure leaning against the back of a car.

“Hello,” you said, fearlessly. What a thought that was? Someone you could speak fearlessly with, even if just in greeting. Alastor had yet to give you a reason to fear his moods or wait to see if he brought a storm with him. He was simply always calm, even-tempered.

“I’ve got you something, if you think you can hide it?” You could just see Alastor’s smile in the dark, light reflecting off his teeth and shining in his eyes, highlighting them against the rest of his dim features, hidden in shadows.

“Oh?” you ran your teeth over your bottom lip, trying to convince your heart to calm as it humped around in your chest. “You didn’t need-”

“Nonsense,” Alastor said, not offering any other information, instead turning to the trunk behind him and twisting the key already seated in the lock. It popped open with a soft thump that reverberated through the small alley.

The darkness prevented you from seeing the tarp, folded neatly around a saw and tied together with twine, just as Alastor had been counting on. Even if you saw it, he was sure you had no reason to question whatever story he gave you. Men were known to keep strange things in their trunks, items to help with a breakdown. He could come up with something for cover.

In the trunk’s front sat a round hatbox, covered in a floral pattern that gave away the high end shop it had come from. Along with it was a bag, paper sporting the same floral pattern.

“For you,” he stepped aside and motioned for you to look. It was dim in the alley, but you could just make out the pattern on the items sitting toward the front of the trunk. The deeper recesses of the space may as well have been a black void to you. “You can take a better look later, but I thought, if this is going to become a more regular arrangement, this would help you.”

“What?” your heart pounded in your chest. He wanted this thing to continue, so much so he wanted to help it be easier? What did that mean? Lifting the lid of the box, you found a red bowl hat, perfectly in style, much unlike the one pulled down over your head currently. The ribbon around the band, shiny silk, accented with little roses embroidered onto the felt of the hat.

“There’s a cape to match. I know coats are a bit more in style, but it’s knit and I’m told that’s still in style.” Alastor hesitated for a moment, taking in the soft expression on your face. “I thought the cape would suit you better.”

Blood roared in your ears as your vision wavered. Breaths came broken as you tried to will yourself to calm down. When was the last time someone had gifted you anything? It had been flowers. The ones Laurence had given you to replace the ones Alastor gave you. Then the fear began to truly hit, sending a tear running down your now pale cheek. How would you explain this to Laurence?

“It’s small enough you could tuck it under the steps, or somewhere else if you think he would find it.” Alastor’s hand rested on your shoulder, arm laying across your upper back as he held you almost to his side, the distance between your bodies too small to be proper but too large for you to call it an embrace. “I thought perhaps you could wear them when coming to meet me, instead of something you could be recognized in.”

“Mr. Moreau,” you patted his chest with the back of your hand before you thought twice about such a bold move. It was too easy to feel that comfortable with him. “You make it sound like sneaking out with you is going to be a regular occurrence.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Alastor asked as he slipped the shawl from your shoulders and tossed it into his trunk. “You could use a friend.”

Friend. Alastor had called himself your friend. That word bounced around in your head as he wrapped the cloak around your shoulders and tossed the hat you had been wearing in the trunk with little care.

If you were just friends, why did it not feel like that? Why did it feel like more? Why did the idea of it not being more make your heart pain?

“Shall we?” Alastor’s hand took up its place against your back, just a touch lower than you considered proper but where you were becoming accustomed to it resting.

“No hat?” You asked as he closed the trunk with one hand.

“You’re already here,” he chuckled as he smiled down at you. “If you wore a hat, I wouldn’t get to see your lovely face.”

The trunk slammed shut with a solid thunk, sealing away your items. The sound broke you out of the spell you still lingered in, touched by his kindness and the fear of your husband it inspired.

“Darling,” Alastor stepped in front of you slightly, turning to face you. His knuckle grazed your cheek tenderly, wiping away the trail left by the tear that had escaped. “If you don’t think you can hide then, you don’t have to take them. I wouldn’t want to cause you to go through another… grievous incident.”

“I-” you took a shaking breath, “I think I can. I just- I’m not used to such kindnesses.”

With a smile, Alastor led you around to the passenger side. He reached around you, opening the door as he let you sit with your admission.

Finally, he said, “You deserve to be treated with kindness,” as he tucked you into the seat.

The door closed, leaving you with your thoughts as Alastor walked around the front of the car. It was the first chance you had to process his words without the sight of his warm eyes in the darkness clouding your mind. Reaching up, you let your fingers caress over the bruise around your eye, faded now, more green and yellow than red and purple. It was easier to cover, hidden now under layers of cream and powder.

He wanted to see your face. Knowing how you looked and what you were hiding, he wanted to see you.

“How long do we have?” Alastor asked as he settled into the driver’s seat, pulling the door closed. The keyring jingled as he slotted the key into the ignition. With a quick turn of his wrist, the engine roared to life.

“He told me not to wait up,” you answered, only realizing how that could be taken as an invitation to something far more than what you had planned after the words left your lips.

“Good!” Alastor pulled the car forward, out of the other side of the alleyway and onto the street. “Are you hungry? I figured a late lunch and then an early show at the cinema. Hows that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful,” you told him as he turned onto the city streets. “But I’ll be seen. People will talk.”

Alastor only looked over at you and winked with a cock of his head. The radio filled the silence, covering for your inability to think of anything to say. As minutes passed, one after another, the city giving way to scenic landscapes. You were torn between watching the land passing by and watching Alastor driving, his long fingers wrapped around the wheel as he navigated with practiced ease.

“Do you leave the city often?” You finally braved saying.

He glanced at you, the bright afternoon sun lighting up his eyes as he turned his head. “More often than I probably should.”

“What’s that mean?” Your voice came softly. It was a struggle to have enough air to breathe when he looked at you that way, let alone talk.

Alastor shrugged, “I get recognized in the city, more often than I’d like sometimes.”

“That’s a problem Mr. Big Deal Radio Host?” You laughed as he gave you a pointed look that dissolved into the smile he always wore. It felt okay to tease him. It felt safe.

“It can be,” Alastor was silent for a bit, looking between you and the road. It was clear he wanted to say more. You sat, waiting patiently until he spoke again. Usually you’d wait because it wasn’t a woman’s place to speak over a man, but not this time. As the world passed by outside the window, you waited because you wanted to know what it was he was debating about saying, not wanting to risk scaring away his words. “You know I’m not like you, right? Not from money, but also…”

“I suspected,” you said simply, “But that’s alright. I don’t mind, you’re kind and a gentleman.” Your voice fell silent for a moment. Alastor debated in that moment clarifying, making it clear it wasn’t just money he referred to but you spoke again before he could. “That’s what matters, not the color of your skin or that of your parents or their parents. What matters is that your mother raised you right.”

Alastor didn’t speak at first and you feared you had said something wrong. Fingers twisted around each other, taking a bit of your blouse with them. You pushed down the urge to say something, anything, to fill the void seemed to grow within the car.

“Not everyone thinks that way.” Alastor’s voice broke the silence, shattering the void. “People know me and no one says it because I look close enough to them they can make themselves forget, but it’s the first thing they remember when I make a mistake. Out here,” Alastor tilted his head forward, to the open road and the small town in the distance, “no one knows me. They don’t know or if I mess up, it’s just some unknown guy.”

“It must be stressful.” You caught yourself as you reached out, wanting to rest your hand on his forearm. Instead, you pulled your hand to your chest and clasped in your other hand.

Alastor laughed, “It can be. But I manage.”

“And out here, maybe I can just be some girl, too.” You said, watching his face, “Some girl out with you.”

“If you want to be.” Alastor’s smile had dimmed with the conversation but now it turned cautiously brighter.

“And if I do?” The words were hardly more than a whisper as you carefully nudged your toe just a bit further over the line.

“Guess you’re just some girl out with some guy, then.”

The diner was small, casual and easy but with Alastor it didn’t feel that way. He pulled your chair out for you as if you were somewhere fancy, scooting you into the table with care. It could have been the highest class restaurant, something Laurence would have taken you on to celebrate your engagement for all the care Alastor was putting into settling you at the table.

With the red knit cape over your shoulders, you indulged in the fantasy. You smiled warmly at Alastor from across the table as he talked about the radio, what he did in the day and the hours he spent poring over scripts and show plans.

It made you want to sit and listen to his show. It made you thankful for Laurence’s late nights, allowing you to indulge in upcoming shows. The idea of getting caught and setting Laurence’s rage off was too terrifying to brave listening to Alastor on the radio since meeting the man himself, but now, the way Alastor talked about his work, you wanted to hear the thing he loved to do so much. It would be like hearing it with brand new ears.

It wasn’t as if you’d never heard his broadcasts in the past. You’d caught them here or there in passing. Though you had enjoyed them, you were always busy tending to your home or your husband, regardless of your desire.

It felt strange to wish to hear the voice of a man, but you were craving Alastor’s voice more and more, the longer you had known him. His love and passion for his chosen profession, you feared it would make your longing all the worse.

“What do you do when you’re not going about your work?” You asked, setting the napkin aside after dabbing at your face.

Alastor paused and thought, something you had grown to appreciate about him in the short time you’d known him. “I read,” he finally said, “And hunt, though I fear I seldom have time for either.”

“You’d have more time if you were not sneaking away with a-” you whispered the next words, leaning across the table, “married woman.”

“But my dear!” Alastor laughed, “I find spending time with,” and his voice lowered to a matching whisper as he leaned across the near empty plates on the table, closing much of the distance between the two of you, “one specific married woman to be rather refreshing.”

“Oh my,” you covered your mouth in feigned outrage as a smile you wouldn’t have recognized spread across your face, “How scandalous!”

“The true scandal,” Alastor admitted, wicked grin spreading wider across his face, “Is how she seems to enjoy my company as well.”

You walked arm in arm with Alastor through the cinema hall as he led you to your theater as a few others milled about. It was a show you’d already seen, but you didn’t mind that at all. You had never seen this show with Alastor and that was what you were eager for.

Was he the one to whisper through the show? Would he laugh? Would he doze off?

It was early yet, and the theater was little more than half filled as you took your seats. The darkness felt strangely safe because he was in it with you. No monsters in men’s dress would get you in this darkness. Today, there was nothing to fear.

No unwanted hands would grip your thigh. No hands would slip under your dress. No one would whisper lewd promises in your ear that would only spark fear. You were safe, respected.

While you watched the show, some of it at least, mostly you watched Alastor watch the movie. Not at first, but as his arm reached behind you, resting along the back of your seat, you couldn’t help it. Light reflected off his glasses and he chuckled softly at jokes.

You envied some woman you didn’t know. It was hardly more than the idea of a woman, really. She would come into his life, steal the attention and affection you had no right to lay claim to. She would get to call Alastor hers.

Was it possible to hate the idea of someone? You thought so, as he turned to look at you, a smile stopping your heart in your chest.

Friends, you reminded yourself. Just friends. Just a secret and highly improper friendship. You could keep your feelings at that level, right?

Forcing your eyes back to the screen, you tried to ignore the way his thumb would caress your shoulder from where his hand dangled off the backrest of your seat. He was not holding you and yet he came so terribly close to it. You ignored the feeling of his eyes on you as he leaned closer to whisper in your year, his breath washing over your neck and the side of your face as he moved closer.

“I’m glad you came out with me today,” his voice was soft velvet in your ear, his lips moving against your hair. Your heart was going insane as you chanted in your mind that you were friends. Just friends. Only friends.

He pressed against the side of your head. Was it a kiss? You weren’t sure. The very idea of it terrified you. There was no way you could brave asking . Your heart pounded in the most delightful way. You could hear him breathe you in for a moment before he pulled away, sitting properly in his seat again with his eyes on the screen.

Did he know what he did to you?

Laurence sat in his large office with the blinds drawn closed against the bright spring sunshine. Smoke curled up from the cigar he had no business buying, let alone smoking with the state of things. That didn’t stop him, though. It was alright, he would find a way out of this, he always did.

There were papers spread in haphazard piles in front of him, red glaring up at him. Canceled, the red screamed. Contracts canceled. Work not yet delivered. Past due notices. Bills unpaid. Threats of legal action. Things were spiraling out of his control, but that was alright.

He just needed one more good break and he could pull things back together as if he had never broken them. He had always been good at finding opportunities, taking the right risks. He was a master gambler. This was just a string of bad luck, that’s all. Everyone had runs of bad luck but his never lasted long. He would pull out of this, he always did.

First, he’d finish up work at the office. That was the easy part. Throw together some marketing materials from the crew that was left and have them deliver it with some sob story. If he was lucky, the client would bite it and at least one of these contracts would be settled.

Then he’d meet up with the guys and play some cards. If he played his game right, he’d come out on top. He had to be careful, not too much on top or they’ll question him. This wasn’t a week where he could rely on lady luck alone to line his pockets.

Once he had some winnings in his pocket, it would be late enough to run an extra load of goods for his best gal’s brother and collect a little extra money. It wouldn’t be enough to change the trajectory of his finances, but it would be a start. He just needed a fucking start.

If he had a good night, he’d have enough cash in his pocket to make his first payment to that damned slimy radio fucker. Just the idea of how that man had the fucking nerve to shame him for offering you as collateral, then to turn around and slink around his home as if he owned the place. How fucking dare he get you alone when he was a guest in the home?

That man was bad news. Laurence felt it in his bones. Nothing good could come from a man who so shamelessly spent time with an unattached spinster like Mimzy but really, why was it surprising? Just look at who his fucking mother was.

A family history of boundary crossing and not knowing one’s goddamn place, that’s all that fucker had going for him. Alastor, the promising radio personality- fuck him. Just another man with dirty blood who didn’t know his fucking place in society.

What was the world coming to? It was going to hell in a handbasket, that was for fucking sure. First the blurring of racial lines and now women were expected to vote? How would they know what’s best for society? What they know was the best way to get clothes clean, to mop the floors and to bake if they were good at anything at all.

Laurence took a deep breath, pulling open the desk drawer. Things rattled around from the force. He shoved papers and boxes around, grabbing the vial of tincture he kept hidden in the back of the drawer, safely out of sight. He had purchased his office supply from across the city. Nosey pharmacists couldn’t mind their business and had to question how much his back had to be hurting.

Fuckers. His back hurt. He needed the drops. That’s all there was to it. Who the fuck were they to question how much pain he was in?

The bitter taste was something he had gotten used to, even come to enjoy, as he emptied half the dropper into his upturned mouth. Swallowing it, he leaned back and waited for the pleasant fog to wrap around his mind and take the pain away.

He had to figure out a plan, a better plan. Work harder, not smarter. No, that wasn’t right. He had flipped it around as the fog encroached into his mind. Work smarter, not harder. That was it. He had to do that.

There were empty bottles in the back room, behind the old boxes of scarped marketing materials. Could he use those to somehow make some more green? Yes, that was an idea. How?

He could pick up the load, split it between whatever extra bottles he had and top them all up with water. No one would notice, no one would even dare question Emma’s family about it- that was a great way to get shot.

He could sell the extra bottles himself and pocket the money. He’d have enough then to make the first payment on that fucking loan. What kind of asshole wants the first payment before the first month had passed, anyway?

Arrogant prick, Laurence thought as he leaned back in his chair, eyes slipping closed. He’d rest his eyes for just a minute, then he’d leave. He had to get on his way to his next meeting or this deal would slip from his fingers, too.

Rest his eyes for just a few seconds, then the meeting. After the meeting, gambling. Then running the hootch. Then he’d take Emma off somewhere, make her scream his name. Maybe she’d suck his cock.

That was something he couldn’t get his wife to do for him. Dumb broad had no interest in sex. What man enjoys having to spell out how to please him? Fucking her was like fucking a dead fish. She just laid there and cried. Too sheltered or too dumb to enjoy it- he wasn’t sure which was the case with her. After all these years, he would have thought she’d figure it out, but she was just as bad as the first night.

Come home. If he was feeling good, maybe he’d fuck his wife, too.

What a night, getting laid twice.

But first he’d just…

Rest his eyes…

Just a moment longer…

Then he’d be off to the meeting…

In just a moment…

Just a moment…

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 2 months

Text

You all know the drill by now, this is an Audio for @redfoxwritesstuff it's their wonderful fic so give them love and support for me please and visit them to read their brilliant work, I highly recommend all their fics.

The art is by the amazing @blobin456drawz again please visit and give their work love, I highly recommend them.💜💜

Audio below the cut...

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Description warnings come directly from the original author of the fic 💜

Human Alastor x married reader

Rated Adult for adult themes, triggering content and sexual content. I wouldn't say this is dead dove but it's dead dove adjacent.

Series Trigger Warnings: Adultery, stalking, Sexual assault, Rape, smut of undetermined sorts, Domestic Violence, Time period accurate views on women and domestic violence and skin color, Alastor is a serial Killer, there's murder, there's angst, there's dark content. If you know me from my old days you'll know this warning: Kit's up to her old shit again.

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart. Chapter 2.

Part 3.

Please excuse any mistakes 💜💜

Again please be kind 💜💜

<(Previous) (Next)>

Chapter 1

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jyoongim · 6 months

Note

Can I have human Alastor x reader smut n like they’re both virgins n it’s their wedding night like newly weds n he eats her out for first time n they fuccccc n like super fluffy n hand holding n i love yous n both are nervous n shy n adorable pleeeeeaaaase im begging

I almost missed this request but its so cute!!!!

You looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to get your nerves together.

You had changed into a short silk nightie. Your lacy garters clung to your plush thighs, holding up the thigh highs. You had pulled your robe over it and took a deep breathe.

Tonight was the night.

You had just married the man of your dreams.

The wedding and reception was beautiful; your families danced, sang and drank to their hearts content.

Your aunties had teased you about your wedding night, making rather vulgar comments about how exciting your night was going to be. Your mother had snuck and packed lingerie into your luggage for this moment.

”Oh honey that man there? I know you’re gonna have a wild night.”

”Youre gonna be giving us some little ones by the time y’all come back”

”dearest remember men like it when you do…”

”Oh I can’t to hear everything when you get back”

You had half a mind to change and just put on one of your nightgowns, but you wanted to be sexy.

It was your wedding night after all.

And you wanted to look good for your husband.

You gathered your nerves and made your way to the living room.

Alastor wasn’t there.

You padded over and poked your head into the kitchen and found the man pouring himself a drink.

”mind pouring me one on the rocks?” You said, making him turn around at the sound of your voice.

Heat pumped to your cheeks as his eyes widened, you held your giggle as you made your way to stand in front of him.

You feigned innocence as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing as he kissed your forehead and handing you a glass of whiskey.

You took a sip, nose scrunching at the taste but smiled as Alastor clinked his glass with yours.

”To us my dear” he said chugging the liquor. You giggled and really took in your surroundings.

You hopped on the kitchen island and sighed “I can’t believe we are married. Oh my stars Alastor we-were really married” you covered your smiling face, feet swaying.

Alastor let out a laugh, coming to stand between your thighs, hands on your waist, smiling at you “yes we are. And I am the happiest man alive doll”

He caught sight of the sheer material on your foot, his brow quirked, making you smile slightly. His hands fingered with the knot of your robe, loosening it and his jaw went slack.

”My momma seems to want us to give her grandbabies soon as possible” you giggled as he toyed with the garter, trailing his finger along your skin.

“That can certainly be arranged” he mumbled to himself, opening the robe to see what you were hiding .

Alastor felt heat rush straight to his cock as he took you in;

The silk garment clung to your figure, hugging your soft curves and making your skin look so soft, your garters teasing him, making him want to use his teeth to rip it off.

You looked gorgeous.

His fingers tapped along your skin, he pushed his hips into the counter as he leaned into you, burying his face in your neck.

The entirety of your courtship Alastor had been a gentleman and did not even try to indulge in you.

Sure there was heavy petting and intense kissing…

but this oh this was different

The two of you were married now.

It was now acceptable and even encouraged that the two of you would be connected at the hip.

Large hands danced along your thighs and slipped under your nightie to follow the garter straps.

A low groan met your ears as Alastor’s fingers dug into your soft flesh, his teeth nipped at your ear ”No panties doll? Oooh my dear always a vixen”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel his thumb graze the slit of your soft lips, rubbing soft circles on your clit.

”A-Al?” You whined as he littered your neck and shoulder in kisses, nipping at the delicate flesh as his thumb pressed onto the bud that made you tingle.

He hummed before pulling you closer to the edge of the island “how lucky am I to have such a pretty wife?” He drawled, taking his free hand and hooking his finger under your chin and pressing his lips to yours.

”A pretty wife I adore, worship, and would do anything for.”

You keened as he deepened the kiss, head dizzy with pleasure.

Alastor pulled away and chuckled at your lidded dazed eyes.

You let out a squeal as he heaved you over his shoulder and made his way through the estate. Your breath caught in your throat as you watch your husband remove his shirt, leaving his chest bare.

Your husband was not a very large man no, instead he was tall and lanky. Lean muscle rippled under his flesh and you bit your lips as your eyes roamed over the scars that littered his skin.

Heat pulsed between your legs.

Alastor caught you ogling and flashed you a smile as he crouched between your legs.

Your nerves twisted as he nuzzled the skin of your thigh

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want darlin” he reassured you, running his hands over your legs.

“N-No its okay. I ju- i want to experience the whole wedding night thing. And with you. I want us to explore this new thing together.” You tried to focus else where, pouting, making him smile.

Contrary to what many people thought, Alastor, the dazzling radio host, was not as experienced as one would think.

Not a womanizer, though he looked like it. The old handsome bastard

Alastor slithered up your body, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers, bringing your hand to his lips, thumb fiddling with your shiny wedding band.

”If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable just tell me and we can stop ok?” He said with a serious look.

You nodded and pulled his head to yours, connecting your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching his scalp and massaging his bare shoulders.

The two of you just stayed like that; happily sucking at each other faces, tongues sweeping over each other and pecking lips.

Alastor nipped at your swollen lips, nudging your chin to expose your neck to him ”I want to try something dearest” he said softly, making you tilt your head.

He slide down until he was kneeling on the floor, his hands on top of your thighs and head wedged between your legs.

You watch his head dip under your nightie and tensed up feeling his breath on your mound.

He brushed his nose against your clit, mouth ghosting over your slit. Your lips formed an ‘O’ as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked!

”Oh!” You gasped, back arching.

Alastor’s tongue swirled around the bud, alternating between licking and sucking on the bud.

His tongue dipped down to tease your quivering hole.

”A-Al!?” You whimpered, hands fisting the covers.

The man propped your legs atop his broad shoulders to angle you better, to slot his mouth against your cunt.

His hands gripped your waist to keep you from withering away from him.

The sound soft suckling and your gasps filled the room.

With a slight pop, Alasto released your throbbing clit and licked a strip up your slit.

He let out a chuckle “Ooh ma cherie you taste as sweet as I always thought” he lifted his head and smiled at you, chin glistening in your juices.

Your face was flushed as you panted. Your fingers pulled at your nightie until the garment was tossed to the side, leaving you bare and only in your stockings.

Alastor’s cock twitched at the sight of your full, perky tits.

He shimmied out of his loose pants, climbing up your body to capture your lips. His hands pulled your legs around his waist as he grinded his hard cock into your wet heat.

You moaned into his mouth as you lifted your hips into his, clit catching onto the tip of his clothed cock.

”A-Al i want…I want to please you as well”

He hummed as his drifted towards your chest, teeth tugging at your nipples before enveloping the mound into his mouth.

You lightly pushed against him to sit up. Lips never parting, you fondled his cock, bristling as he groaned into your mouth and cock hardening within your hand.

”I-Inside p-please Al” you begged, pressing your head against his.

It wasn’t as easy as your aunties had tried to tell you. The magazines made it look easy, but by god!

Your eyes clenched as you gritted your teeth, taking his weeping tip and running it over your folds. Alastor held your hips, kissing your shoulders “darlin don’t force yourself…we can take it as slow as you need” he reassured.

A whimper met his ears and he let out a hiss as your tight warm walls sunk down on him, stopping just shy when met with resistance.

You took a deep breath as you plunged down, a cry leaving your throat “Aaah!”

You buried your face the groove of his neck, nails biting into his skin leaving angry marks.

You felt so full.

It was like you could barely breath, his cock filled every crevice and stretched you beyond limits.

Your fingers never felt like this.

You needed to move, to adjust and get accustomed to him being inside.

Your teeth found themselves bedded into Alastor’s flesh as you finally took the last few inches.

Your sweet husband made sure to soothe you, kissing you cheeks and lips, lavishing your chest in kisses as well, muttering positive affirmations.

”Oh my sweet girl”

”Youre doing so well”

”deep breaths baby, I got ya”

After a while, you let out a shaky moan as Alastor softly kneaded your flesh, before rolling his hips into yours. He groaned as you clenched around him, pupils dilating.

”I-I know we said we would go slow but my god cher, you feel so good”

He took it upon himself to slowly move you. Alastor had heard from other men that a woman’s pussy was like heaven on earth. He used to think they were exaggerating, but your warm, gummy walls hugged him perfectly.

He had been hard since he had tasted his wife.

You were sweeter than any fruit he’s tasted. He would live between your thighs if he could.

He peppered your shoulder in kisses as he grinded into your heat.

”A-Al!” You whined, body buzzing with pleasure.

Soft moans and grunts filled the room as the two of you made love for the first time.

”Please Al oh my god please!” You moaned throwing your head back against the bed. Alastor was on top of you, head buried in your neck, soft grunts and growls pouring from his lips.

”You gonna cum for me baby?” He purred, hips snapping into yours, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You nodded as your cunt fluttered.

Alastor lifted his head to catch your lips, intertwining your hands.

”c-cum!c-cummin oh Oh fuck my god! A-Al..I’m gonna cum” you whimpered as the ball in your belly tightened.

Alastor smiled against your lips “Its okay. Just let it happen baby. C’mon. Cum on your husband’s cock. That’s it…fuck baby”

You saw white as your body seized. Your thighs trembled as you pulsed around his cock, orgasm ripping through you as you milked him of his first orgasm.

”Iloveyouoloveyouiloveyou” you chanted as Alastor rode out your orgasm, humming in amusement at his wife.

You twitched in sensitivity as his thrusts sped up before he stilled, groaning as he emptied his ball into you.

You both panted,chest heaving as you overcame the sensation of passion.

Alastor curled his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, making you sleepily blink at him

”Was that ok?” He asked nervous

You smiled, pressing a kiss over his heart sighing

”That was perfect”

the two of you sat in bliss, just taking each other in.

”Al?” You muttered, making the man look down at you

”C-Can I suck your cock now?”

That made the man short-circuit.

You looked up when you got no response only to see your husband sporting a nosebleed

”oh my god Al!”

He had a silly smile of his face

”I love you my dear”

You giggled, making him tilt his head back

”I love you too”

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@boney-horse@zombiesnips-blog@rulesareshadesofgrey@southern-bayou-beau@doggone-devil@polytheatrix @yourdoorisunlocked @amurtan@sassuguru@confessioncassette@evedenn@alastorsaries@alastors666creampie@alastor-simp@alastors-deerest@bigfatbimbo@okay-babe@purplecatsandhearts@altruisticalastor@horrorartsworld@dasimp777@nettaw@nightshadelm@certifiedcrybabyyy

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