The Bedrotter

Trying to adult

[tays-writing]

frat!jo x reader | part..?

Satoru gojo, frat president and professional heartbreaker, had finally met his ultimate match. Unfortunately for him, she's a pretty little brat who knows exactly how to drive him insane.

Satoru Gojo had built his entire reputation around a handful of carefully maintained things: expensive clothes, parties that never seemed to end, and the firm refusal to let anyone get close enough to matter.

When it came to women, his rules were just as simple—and absolutely non-negotiable. No feelings. No staying the night. Never the same girl twice.

He wasn’t the frat president for nothing. Six-foot-three of pure ego wrapped in white hair and enough cockiness to fill a room. He fucked like it was a competitive sport and treated commitment like the worst kind of inconvenience. Parties bled into mornings, mornings into hangovers, and hangovers into the perfect excuse for another party. Names never stuck. Faces sometimes did—until the next pair of pretty eyes looked up at him.

Then you happened.

You weren’t supposed to matter. You were just the girl who showed up in a tiny black dress, an attitude, and a tongue sharp enough to cut. You called him “pretty boy” to his face in front of half the frat. Then you stole his drink, took one sip, scrunched your nose in disgust, and handed it back like it had personally offended you.

Naturally, he followed you.

When he finally cornered you in the kitchen, he leaned in with the same confident grin that usually got him whatever he wanted and asked if you wanted to get out of there. You looked him up and down—slow enough to leave a bruise on his ego—and said, “Mmm… don’t think so. I’m kind of busy being entertained by people who actually put in some effort.”

For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo had absolutely nothing to say.

He spent the next three weeks inventing increasingly pathetic excuses to be wherever you were. Then weeks turned into months, and somewhere along the way, things had gotten… complicated.

You weren’t his girlfriend, though God knew he’d tried. Repeatedly. Every single time, you’d smile, kiss him, and neatly change the subject.

Still, neither of you saw anyone else. You just refused to call whatever this was a relationship.

That was the thing about you.

You were a brat. A world-class, olympic-level, absolute menace of a brat.

Satoru was reminded of that again the moment the front door swung open.

You walked in with that little half-smirk already in place. Your eyes found him almost instantly. You blew him a kiss, winked, and then carried on like he hadn’t been the first thing you’d looked for.

It took less than thirty seconds for some guy to find his way to you.

Jace. Basketball team, if he remembered correctly. A little shorter than him, broad-shouldered, and stupid enough to think your smile actually meant he had a chance. He handed you a drink, said something that made you laugh, and then let his hand hover a little too close to your waist.

That was enough.

He pushed himself off the kitchen island and crossed the room stopping just behind you. From there, his stare settled on Jace with enough intensity to drill a hole straight through his skull. For a brief second, he considered all the ways this could end badly for him. None of them involved words.

Jace’s eyes flicked over just long enough to realize exactly who was standing behind you. His shoulders tensed, his smile faltered, and whatever he’d been about to do died right there.

You turned your head slightly toward Satoru, like you’d been expecting him all along, then fully turned to face him.

“Hi, Satoru~” you said, not even trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

“You walked right past me,” he replied, ignoring the greeting completely.

You took a slow sip of your drink, eyes still on him over the rim of the cup.

“Did I?” You tilted your head innocently. “Oops.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the drink in your hand. Before you could answer, he took the cup from your fingers and handed it off to a passing guest without even looking away from you.

“Don’t play dumb. You saw me the second you walked in. You even blew me a kiss.”

“Force of habit.” You shrugged. “You’re very pretty. Hard not to acknowledge it.”

He stared at you for a second longer. You could almost feel the irritation rolling off him.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he muttered.

You smiled, slow and sweet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was just talking to someone nice. And you scared him. That was rude,” you added with a small pout.

Before he could answer, you leaned in just slightly, voice dropping into something softer and far more dangerous.

“And you know what?” you murmured, voice dripping with fake innocence. “I actually like the respectful type. The quiet ones.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Like that cute nerd everyone’s convinced is secretly a cam boy.” You sighed dramatically. “Fuck, I’d let him absolutely ruin my—”

His hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could finish the sentence.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low and strained. “Don’t even finish that fucking sentence.”

The music was loud enough that no one could hear you, but half the room could still see the way he was looking at you—like he was two seconds from dragging you upstairs and locking the door.

You just smiled against his palm. Then you licked it.

His eyes narrowed immediately as he pulled his hand away.

“You’re doing this just to torture me.”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending I don’t exist. Saying things you know bother me. Flirting with an idiot.”

Your smile only grew.

“Maybe I’m just keeping my options open.”

“Options.”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve got options?”

You hummed, low and thoughtful, like you were actually considering it. Your finger lazily traced the collar of his shirt.

“You spent years making your way through half the female population on campus,” you said. “Seems a little unfair to complain because one guy got me a drink.”

His hand came up, catching your wrist before you could pull away. His voice dropped, quieter and sharper.

“I don’t care how many options you think you have. You’re still... mine.” the word left his mouth and hung between you.

“Really?”

You stepped closer, close enough that there wasn’t a breath of space left between you.

“Because last time I checked, I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

His expression shifted.

Three months of being exclusive. Actually exclusive. No side pieces. No late-night texts. No one else.

And somehow, you still refused to give him the one thing he wanted. Three months still hadn’t made you soft for him the way he was soft for you.

“And that’s my fault?” His voice dropped, rough around the edges.

“I don’t know.” Your smile turned sharper. “But from where I’m standing, it sounds an awful lot like the frat president doesn’t like getting a taste of his own medicine.”

His hand flexed on yours and his other one found your waist.

“Stop playing”

For once, you didn’t laugh. Your eyes stayed on his, steady and unreadable, and something in his expression shifted. Like he was trying to figure out whether you were about to tease him again or finally give him the answer he’d been waiting for.

Your hand slowly slid down his torso until your fingers curled around the front of his belt. You tugged. Hard. Hard enough to pull him forward and slightly down, forcing him to lean into you. His hips pressed against your stomach. He was already half-hard, and the second your body aligned with his he got harder.

“I’m not playing, Satoru.”

Then you kissed him.

A deliberate, open-mouthed kiss that tasted like challenge and whatever cheap liquor was in your cup. Your tongue slid against his like you were claiming him right there in front of half the house. At the same time your other hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, palm gliding up over the hard ridges of his abs. You stroked them slowly, feeling every muscle jump under your touch.

He made a low, rough sound against your lips. His grip on your waist tightened, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear again.

When you finally pulled back, it was only far enough to speak against his mouth.

“Relax,” you whispered. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Your fingers gave his belt one last tug, then released him. Your hand left his abs with a final, lingering drag of your nails that made his stomach clench.

You stepped back, smiling that same sweet smile, already turning toward the living room like you hadn’t just set him on fire in the middle of the party.

Satoru stood there for a second longer, chest rising and falling too fast, the taste of you still on his tongue, the ghost of your hand still burning against his skin.

That was when he felt it. The weight of someone’s stare.

Across the room, leaning against the far wall with a half-empty cup dangling from her fingers, was a girl he recognized instantly. Long hair. Sharp smile. Last year’s one-night stand — the one who had taken his “never the same girl twice” rule as a personal insult.

She wasn’t just looking. She was watching.

Her eyes moved from your retreating back to Satoru’s face. Then her mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

It was the expression of someone who had just discovered exactly where to press.

She lifted her cup in a small, mocking toast when she caught his gaze.

Satoru held her stare for a second before turning away.

Some girls just took longer to get over it. He was used to that.

But this time, he had the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn’t looking at him because she wanted him back.

anyway... thoughts? would you like to read more of this frat!jo? be nice I'm still figuring him out.

taglist for future parts is open!!

masterlist

REBLOGS ARE SOO APPRECIATED!

divider from pixopix | art credits in this order: 1004_xvn / 3vangel1ne_ / mochikuyo on X

perm taglist 1: @butterbeanandsparkleface @gojodotexe @eyekoniccs @gumiisbunni @latinaacream4choso @adoreiasworld @radeylady @blossybliss @linkhyliaswife8 @essenceofsagexo @sweetpapriikaa @swimmingsharky101 @so3lar @thytorturedpoet @shroomie017 @livchei @whimsypopswirl @kun4ril @kvbvni @gojoful @misshale21 @wiserion @crsierram @xiaoderrrr @stairlzxts @beth-isnt-home @satosugusgoldenchild @nerdsatoru @limrnce999 @laisaj-21 @shytragedyraccoon @rav3n23 @kyarujjk0 @dreasalty @yochicoz @luvnics @fartoofy @affinityblues @m1dnlghtr4in @abbycadabras @rikiswifeyyy @ryeongzoned @ariniip @femeunhae @chiyokoemilia @sugo-jo @renfangirls247 @tootyallfarty @neonaby @user12341409

[celestial-fang]

The sun itself bows at your feet

Oil painting for Shah Ismail’s 539th birthday!

120 x 60

[andypantsx3]

Andie send help. I'm a Nanami stan through and through (Or so I thought...) but with the new jjk season and everyone talking about him, I fear my weak heart can't resist Gojo anymore... OTL

So defeated and ashamed I come to you: do you by any chance have any Gojo x reader fic recs?

Thank you ❤️

Lmfaoooo Gojo is inevitable!! I do have a couple Gojo recs off the top of my head although I am certain I am forgetting some. I will try to come back and add more as I remember them!!

First of all I recommend anything by the ult Gojo simp @stellamancer. Niku has several really good ones, some ongoing, and they are all super different premises but all of them perfectly capture Gojo's annoying enigmatic-ness. Niku also has this really heartfelt style of storytelling; you will eat her fics up with a spoon.

For me, @petrichorium's usurper!Gojo series was like the gateway into Gojo simpery. This is one of my fave series ever, and again Pluvi captures his character so well, he's so dangerous and cocky and yet so soft and careful with the things he really cares about. I want to lick his boots. :/ (Total perfection.)

I recently reblogged @lorelune's fic dawn instinct and I cannot recommend enough. It's purportedly smut but Lore does like insane levels of character work throughout and it's so completely, masterfully executed. I haven't read all their other stuff yet but I added like everything to my TBR, they're so good.

I also recently reblogged @mintmatcha's vignettes in cerulean and hoooly shit. It's short but it's so impactful. Mint's writing is somehow very focused and cerebral and I found myself thinking about this one for days and days after. I think it will stick with you too.

I also have to recommend @yeowchies' whet your appetite fic too. This one literally gave me butterflies. Gojo is so fucking sexy and obnoxious here and I wanted to climb into the fic and beat his ass!! You will love love love his characterization here.

And no Gojo list would be complete without @hawnks's first law of motion!! Mint is one of the most reliable writers in our niche and one thing I love about her fics is how the love interest usually falls fast, and soooo hard! If you want to feel loved and cared for, read this. This one is lengthier too so you will have plenty to simp over!!

Also I haven't read it yet but @seoafin's rip 2 my youth is on my TBR!! It's a Gojo x Reader x Getou fic, and it looks so fucking good. I have seen multiple people dissolving into puddles over this fic, so you know it has to be good. I'm so excited!!

I also haven't read this one yet but I have @shibaraki's the white rabbit on my TBR too!! Monty has the most creative concepts in this entire niche and this one features courtesan Gojo and I am certain it is gonna be both nuanced and sexy as hell hehehe.

Lastly, this isn't an x Reader, but if you are willing to read Gojo x canon characters, I'm absolutely obsessed with this gojohime writer on ao3 called unpetitlapin. Her Gojo is unbearably obnoxious but so good and flawed and so multidimensional kjsfjshdkfjshdkgl. I love it.

Anyway that's what I can think of for now, although I am certain there are ones from earlier in 2022-2021 that I will need to track down and add here. But in the meantime, happy reading!!

[stellamancer]

sorry Andie, i’m hopping onto your post to add my some recs of my own and i’m literally unsure if i want to be known as the uly Gojo simp???? like what are you talking about

Intrinsic Warmth - This fic was recommended to me by a friend. It’s still in progress but it’s still just over 100k of reading goodness. I will note that the reader does have a last name and is frequently referred to by it, but if you can ignore/forgive that, it is an amazing slow burn childhood friends to lovers fic. This is the Gojo fic I recommend anytime someone asks, or even doesn’t ask. 

@saetoru’s rich boy! Gojo series -  Do not get me started on this one. I love it. I have gone back and re-read and re-read some of the fics in the series like they are my favorite meals because they are. I literally cannot get enough of this au. Tee’s rich boy Gojo is such a little brat, but he’s also the sweetest most devoted little brat. I want him to pamper me. And also wife me. 

do you believe in love? by @shotorus - I absolutely love this piece. Like. Sel’s take on Gojo here is one of my favorites. I personally think Gojo is not quite the type to lament his station and that notion is captured beautifully in this fic. They have another piece— 11:49PM that is also absolutely stellar. 

all this ( & heaven too) by @kedsandtubesocks -  Erika’s spin on Hades and Persephone is an absolute treat. Like. AAAAAAAAA. The writing is beautiful and Gojo is immaculate, playful and silly but also kind and caring!! 

any Gojo work by @seravphs like. I’ve only read a handful of her dedicated Satoru Gojo masterlist but she is so wildly creative with her AUs and every single thing is sure to be a hit. I still need to read her teen dad (as in adopting Megumi as a teen dad) and knight Gojo fics but!! Her writing is just so good. 

godmaker by @firein-thesky​ - I will be honest, this is the only rec on this list that I have not read yet, that being said I have zero doubts in my mind that it’s an absolute hit since it’s been repeatedly recommended to me. I’m just preparing for this fic to slaughter me where i stand. :’)

I think there are more but this is what I’ve got off the top of my head LMAO. 

[aqua-regia009]

Sower of Temptation - Seb McKinnon

[astrariums]

LAUFEY God of War Laufey dev. Santa Monica Studio

[leighlew3]

ALL. OF. THIS.

[kesyrotta]

What will you paint?

[cuteotterdontinteract]

KURAPIKA FICS ASAP

i js started hunterxhunter!!Please recommend me long fanfics of kurapika x reader. And any site would do! Either ao3, wattpad or tumblr😞😞 ifor the love of god do not know how to use ao3 so pls js send this poor girl her fics 💔💔

[f-ing-another-account]

We have so much to say, and we shall never say it - Chapter 6 (human!Alastor x human!fem!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Synopsis: Chapter 6, in which Alastor and his favourite nurse get caught, and George and Alastor have a talk.

Tw: none

A/N: This is a short one since I couldn't find a better spot to end this chapter while writing. This is also the cursed one that causes a power outage. Twice. I hope that the next part will be sooner, as I already have some of it written down.

fem!Reader x Alastor, 3rd person pov, no y/n, no ‘you’, Alastor is AroAce and it's written with queer platonic relationship in mind.

It was still dark when George shook Alastor awake. Groggy, Alastor fixed his glasses and wiped a bit of drool from his mouth. The nurse was still asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as she breathed quietly. She looked peaceful and happy, and the sight made him smile. For a moment, she really did look like an angel from a church painting. Then George’s interruption broke the calm.

“Ya might want to wake her up before the sun rises, lover boy! You’re lucky I woke up in time to let you sneak her out. The head nurse would certainly not appreciate one of her angels sleeping with a patient. You could test how well your arm healed by carrying her, but letting you into the nurses' quarters would be like inviting a fox to a chicken coop. So wake up the sleeping beauty and send her on her way; you two will surely see one another in just a few hours.”

Alastor blushed at the insinuation. No matter how many times he told George that Alastor was the farthest thing from a seducer, George didn’t listen. It didn’t help that many nurses genuinely enjoyed Alastor's charming personality. At this point, Alastor gave up on trying to correct his neighbour; George’s mind was set. Besides, George would be sent home soon. Alastor himself would be back in the trenches in a week. There was no point in explaining minor things to someone he would never see in his life. But Alastor would also bid farewell to his favourite nurse. Why did he care about never seeing her again? Alastor didn’t want her to disappear from his life. He wanted to keep her and had to figure out if she wanted to keep him as well. But with the nurse snuggling in his neck, that sunny smile on her face, Alastor had a hunch the feeling was mutual.

Alastor fixed a lone lock of hair that strayed away from the nurse's cap and put it behind her ear, then he shook her slightly until she woke up. She opened her eyes slowly, still lethargic from her sleep, and looked at Alastor in a way that everyone wants to be looked at. Pure happiness and adoration on her face made Alastor want to keep it in a bottle to come back to during dark days. At least that was the case before she heard Alastor speak his next words.

“You might want to get up and return to the nurses’ barracks. If the head nurse finds you here with me, it will be both our heads, I’m afraid.”

While neither George nor Alastor cared for social conventions, at least they didn’t care as much as society did; the good name of the angel was at stake. The head nurse, who is also a nun, would forbid her from visiting her favourite patient if she discovered them in such an intimate position. She might even take her off the recovery ward duty and send her to the appointment section! Section smelling like old blood, full of moans and screams, where patients await their judgment. In this place, life and death lie in the hands of the triage medics. Probably the worst ward to work in, besides the quarantine ward.

Alastor laughed a bit at his companion’s shocked expression; she looked like a deer in headlights. Her hand instantly left his palm as she moved away from his body, clearly surprised that she had fallen asleep here in the first place. She got up in a hurry, straightened her skirt and apron, and quickly bid farewell to the men before leaving for her quarters.

With a little smile, Alastor kept on looking at the closed door she had left through just a few seconds ago. Slowly, the soft, warm feeling started to leave him, and it brought out this annoying thought from the back of his mind - How to keep her?

Before his mind could elaborate further, he heard the familiar raspy voice one more time.

“Parting is such a sweet sorrow, eh Romeo?”

Alastor turned to George with an annoyed expression and answered:

“Since when do YOU know Shakespeare?”

George’s smile dropped a little, and he turned away his face from Alastor a bit. He couldn’t look him in the eyes. George nervously grabbed his blanket and slowly answered in a quiet voice. The kind that Alastor has never seen him use before.

“My son, a smart lad, used to read a lot. He was a student before the war, the smartest lad in my whole family. His ma and I were very proud of him. He died in 1915 from the Spanish flu in a military hospital. There is not a single day since that cursed year that I don’t feel empty inside. His older sister, my daughter, is the only child I have left.”

Even with poor light, Alastor could see that George wiped a tear from his eye. He then slowly looked at Alastor one more time and continued:

“You remind me of him a lot. Perhaps that’s why I took an immediate liking to you. Your father must be really proud of you.”

The last sentence struck a nerve inside of Alastor. While he suspected that George held some kind of paternal feeling for him, the topic of his own father was one Alastor avoided. It was Alastor's turn to turn away from the eye contact with a frown. He grabbed his itchy blanket and suddenly found a lone thread very interesting as he fidgeted with it.

It didn’t escape George’s attention as the Englishman asked with a quiet, sad voice.

“Your father wasn’t of the teaching sort, I presume?”

Alastor just took off his glasses, put them on the nightstand, and turned off the paraffin lamp. He lay down with his back facing George, and he covered himself with the woolen blanket. Maybe he will get to catch some sleep before someone starts screaming again. Before closing his eyes, he just said one last word:

“Correct.”

It didn’t take long for both men to fall asleep again. That night, Alastor dreamed of a woman in a blue dress, walking with him down the French Quarter in New Orleans. But was it his mother or a nurse? He couldn’t tell. He woke up feeling peaceful, which was rare since he had come to Europe.

[hollowbutcanlove]

VALORANT

series

⟢﹒✷﹒Emergency 18+ (f!reader x iso) - X (first chapter. total - 61 chapters, 9 extras) ⟢﹒✷﹒The language of the flowers pt1 pt2 ⟢﹒✷﹒ Correspondence with Valorant agents pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 ⟢﹒✷﹒ Words feel like… 18+(f!reader x iso) pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 ⟢﹒✷﹒meeting another you pt1 (harbor x civilian!reader) pt2 (yoru x civilian!reader) ⟢﹒✷﹒It's all your fault 18+(yoru x fem!reader) - pt1 (frozen) ⟢﹒✷﹒Valorant character phrases about you - pt1 pt2 ⟢﹒✷﹒On the edge (gekko x reader x iso) - pt1 pt2 ⟢﹒✷﹒ Zombie Apocalypse 18+ (Iso x reader) pt1 pt2

oneshots

⟢﹒✷﹒Sage x reader - X ⟢﹒✷﹒Iso x reader - X X(18+) X(18+) X(18+) X(18+) X (Between Bullets and Beads) X(18+) ⟢﹒✷﹒Yoru x reader - X X ⟢﹒✷﹒Sova x reader - X X X(Chicken broth, jam and care) ⟢﹒✷﹒Gekko x reader - X (A little art mystery) ⟢﹒✷﹒Phoenix x reader - X ⟢﹒✷﹒Omen x chef!reader - X ⟢﹒✷﹒They cheated on you - X ⟢﹒✷﹒you and Iso are in a secret relationship - X ⟢﹒✷﹒more iso text messages - X ⟢﹒✷﹒Headcanons dark!оmega!agents version - X ⟢﹒✷﹒The Squid Game × Valorant - X

RECORD OF RAGNAROK

series

⟢﹒✷﹒Talven murusina 18+ (Simo Häyhä x militarynurse!Reader) ptI pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6

oneshots

⟢﹒✷﹒Simo Häyhä x reader NY edition – X

⟢﹒✷﹒NSFW ALPHABET with SIMO HÄYHÄ – X

NARUTO

series

⟢﹒✷﹒

oneshots

⟢﹒✷﹒Kakashi Hatake x obsessed!Reader – X

[daniela75201]

whenever I see kurapika fanart i feel so memorized by his beauty

shoutout to this author, to whom î don’t know the name of. If anyone could tell me that’d be great❤️👀😳

[felidraeart]

A Mama’s Boy

[mimosa-sex-tea-people-contrsf]

Hi Mimosa Peryton Lake here I go by (they/them) pronouns

Tumblr Sexypeople 2026 forms will be posted January 1st, each round of each contest will last 1 week

Tumblr Sexywoman Contest 2026 will begin March 1st

Tumblr Sexyman Contest 2026 will begin June 1st

Tumblr Sexyenby Contest will begin October 1st

credit to @rilli-luci for the idea of a sexy villain contest

Tumblr sexy man 2025: Stanley Pines

Tumblr Sexywoman 2025: Morticia Addams

Tumblr Sexyenby 2025: Loop (isat)

Tumblr Sexyperson overall 2025: Morticia

Tumblr Sexy Furry: Miss Piggy

Tumblr Sexy Machine: GLaDOS

Tumblr Sexy Inanimate Object: The Ocean

Tumblr Sexy Number: ♾️

Tumblr Best Crossover: Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Tumblr lil Guy: Autism Creature

Tumblr Sexy Villain: GLaDOS

Tumblr Sexy Monster: Mothman

Tumblr Sexy Indie Media Character: Mettaton

Tumblr Cool Bug: Orchid Mantis

Tumblr Sexy Tree: Weeping Willow

Tumblr Sexy Mascot: Bugs Bunny

Tumblr Sexy Rock: The Moon

Deserved to be a Villain: Women and the LGBTQIA+ Community

Coolest Sea Creature: Bioluminescent Plankton

Tumblrs Most Unfuckable Contest

I love this idea so much

Tattoo recommendations

If I see enough I really like I might make a contest and let you guys choose one of my tattoos

Sexiest color

I’m so genuinely curious right now

Get This Bitch Therapy Poll

Who do you think was gone through it and deserve some therapy for a change

Sexiest Instrument Poll

You can submit multiple, the one submission per form is just easier for me to sort through

Tumblr’s Favorite Offical

Past or present

Did not deserve to be a character poll

Who didn’t deserve to exist in fictional media?

Favorite Sin

One of the seven deadly sins or come up with your own sins

Sexy Muppet

Not Miss Piggy or Kermit

Haunts the Narrative

Exactly what it says on the tin

[redvexillum]

Your one-stop shop of finding every single one of my Alastor x Reader stories with summaries! All my stories are posted on AO3 so click HERE if you want to read them there! 🥰

⋆˙⟡ — White Noise

In a world of static and sin, who’s really tuning in? You cuck Vox, your husband, with Alastor.

⋆˙⟡ — Silly Little Crush

Rating 18+ || MDNI A simple arrangement. A night of depravity with Alastor. But when he shows up, rough and hungry, your silly little crush turns into breathless moans, aching need, and a taste of something far too intimate to ignore.

⋆˙⟡ — Enchanté

You, an incredibly optimistic individual, makes a deal with the Radio Demon. Impress him with one of your treats, and you get to keep your nicely renovated café. Simple, right? (only on AO3 for now)

⋆˙⟡ — Alastor Being a Lil Shit

A mixed form of dialogue/drabble styled story of how a sunshine-trope reader fell in love with a lil shit a.k.a Alastor and vice versa. Shenanigans, fluff, and maybe a bit of spice ensues. TL;dr two dumb idiots falling in love.

⋆˙⟡ — Catastor and Me

!!Ratings may change!! You and your feisty, chaotic cat Catastor are braving the fiery depths of Hell, just trying to find a place to call home. For Catastor, that place has always been by your side – but now, his territory is under threat! The scrawny, creepy Radio Demon has started pulling you into his world, and Catastor’s not having it. It's time for Catastor to rise up, claws out, and protect what’s his – because no demon is going to steal his favourite human without a fight!

⋆˙⟡ — White Noise

In a world of static and sin, who’s really tuning in? You cuck Vox, your husband, with Alastor.

⋆˙⟡ — The Adventures of Catastor & Co.

Dive into the wild antics of the chaotic Hell Cats—masters of feline destruction and unmatched cuteness! Chaos reigns, whiskers twitch, and claws fly in these purr-fectly disastrous adventures!

⋆˙⟡ — How to Train Your Deer Demon

Who would’ve thought the infamous, prideful Alastor could be brought to his knees? As a pleasure dom, you’ve faced your share of challenges, but taming the elusive Radio Demon? Now, that’s a game you never expected to win—until he started pushing all your buttons.

⋆˙⟡ — Tease You, Love You, Darling

It starts as harmless teasing—a playful back-and-forth between you and Alastor. But with a demon as notoriously petty as he is charming, you probably should’ve known better. One quip too far, and suddenly the stakes are higher, the tension thicker, and you’re left…literally breathless.

⋆˙⟡ — Convergence/Divergence

What price would you dare to pay… if you had the chance to do it all over again? Would you risk everything—your pride, your peace, your soul—for one more shot to make it right?

⋆˙⟡ — Little Red

Alastor, the love of your life with an insatiable need when it comes to your flesh.

⋆˙⟡ — Tell Me I'm Punny

Rating 18+ || MDNI You may have told Alastor that he wasn't punny and now...well...let's just say it was a mouth-opener.

⋆˙⟡ — Don't Call Me a Friend

Rating 18+ || MDNI You were peeved that somehow he still saw you as a friend.

⋆˙⟡ — Sensory Deprivation

Rating 18+ || MDNI Alastor's shadows ensnare and overwhelms you in a wicked game of dominance, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

⋆˙⟡ — SHOWER S♡X

Rating 18+ || MDNI Alastor has rescued you from the Vees, but you didn't smell like him. Well, this won't do. This won't do at all.

⋆˙⟡ — Branding

Rating 18+ || MDNI Alastor knew that you were a taken woman, and yet...yet, he wanted a mark of your love to him, so he hands you the knife

⋆˙⟡ — Infidelity

Rating 18+ || MDNI You know what you are doing is wrong - and yet, you continue to welcome Alastor into your arms while your husband remains blissfully unaware.

⋆˙⟡ — Costumes

Rating 18+ || MDNI Even though you knew Alastor hid behind countless masks, layering them one after another in your presence, it was in those rare, intimate moments—when he let the facade slip, when he entwined himself with you—that you realized, despite the pain, the betrayal, you would still choose to stay by his side

⋆˙⟡ — Jealousy

Rating 18+ || MDNI Alastor owns your soul—he owns you. So why, then, does he find himself aching when your laughter, your smiles, your warmth aren’t shared solely with him? Bound by the unspoken, you and Alastor tread an endless, delicate line. The feelings that burn between you remain unvoiced, holding you in an eternal dance—two souls walking side by side, desperately close yet never truly touching.

⋆˙⟡ — Obsession

Rating 18+ || MDNI Alastor loves you. This is love. It has to be

⋆˙⟡ — Naked/Clothed

Rating 18+ || MDNI Thirteen times. Thirteen times he'll push you past the edge until you can finally beat insomnia. Too bad for Alastor, that's not how you fix insomnia.

⋆˙⟡ — Missed Opportunities

Rating 18+ || MDNI You have reunited with Alastor in Hell, and after celebrating a holiday party at the hotel, he decided to take you back to his room. He has a gift for you, after all, and it’s meant to make up for all the missed opportunities you two had back when you were both alive.

⋆˙⟡ — Sincerely Yours

Rating 18+ || MDNI You betrayed Alastor once, back when you were alive—not out of desire, but because your family forced your hand. But now, in Hell, you've been given the chance to reunite with him. You loved him then, you love him now, and you still love him.

⋆˙⟡ — Silly Little Crush

Rating 18+ || MDNI A simple arrangement. A night of depravity with Alastor. But when he shows up, rough and hungry, your silly little crush turns into breathless moans, aching need, and a taste of something far too intimate to ignore.

⋆˙⟡ — Silly Girl

In which you require liquid courage to try and confess.

⋆˙⟡ — Miss the Mark

In which you try to flirt with the Radio Demon, "try" being the operative word.

⋆˙⟡ — My Deerest Fan

You didn't anticipate sending a simple fan letter would grant you an audience with the infamous Radio Demon.

⋆˙⟡ — Cooking Together

In which you finally agreed to accept Alastor's invitation and cook his favourite dish together.

⋆˙⟡ — Confession

Alastor reveals his feelings the only way he knows how - radio broadcasting.

⋆˙⟡ — Massages

You had a terrible headache, but luckily Alastor knew what to do to help ease away your pain.

⋆˙⟡ — Ritual

You and Alastor had a ritual when you fall apart into pieces. He will always pick you up and put you back together no matter how many times it takes, no matter how long it takes.

[redvexillum]

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

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

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

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

This was different. 

It felt intimate. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would you die for him? 

Could you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could it be true? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fun. 

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

Fun. 

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

Fun. 

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

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

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

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

You looked like a fool. 

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

For him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cher?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Now came the hardest part. 

Waiting. 

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

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

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

Safe, and with you once more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't need this thing anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always waiting. 

And yet... 

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

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A life he would never know. 

A life he had willingly forfeited. 

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

An eternity of silence. 

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

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

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

[writingoddess1125]

1999 pt. 8

Kurt Wagner x Fem Reader

Angst, Sad Topics, Awkwardness, With a tiny touch of fluff

Reader has Empath abilities where she can feel others’ emotions, her mind can’t be read by either, and if she touches someone she can make them feel what she feels.

Marvel Masterlist <<

Kofi

"Kurt I'm fucking exhausted-"

(Y/N) said quickly, Pulling her arm away fast from his hold as if he burned her. Which made Kurt hesitantly place his hands in his lap.

"I Just... w-would there be anything I could do for you to forgive me..."

There is a pause that fills the air the moment those words leave his mouth. (Y/N) slowly closing her eyes as she thinks over her words carefully.

".. Kurt- You think me just 'Forgiving' You will wash away everything?.. That if you do some magical task it will all be better?"

"Nein.. Just.."

Kurt lowered his head, The clear weight of guilt settling on him. (Y/N) sighed heavily as she rubbed her face clearly just done with it all and irritated by this.

"Kurt- Your Guilt is not my responsibility.. Nor are your regrets for being a coward mine either"

He almost seemed offended by the coward comment before the realization seemed to him making his stomach sink once more.

"..The fact it took you 16 years to open a goddamn card- something that would have negated were we even stand today. Your Choice, Your Inaction caused you to not know your sons for well over a decade, for those boys to not know their father and for me to.."

She stopped, closing her eyes again for a moment as if to recollect herself from it all. Taking a steady breath as she looked back to him-

"So No- I don't know what or how I can forgive you at this moment.."

Kurt looked up to her, the reality of all hit him- Like that stab would he felt was deeper then he thought but by his own hand.

He lowered his eyes then, looking to the floor as nothing but shame filled his system.

"...I understand"

The two of them were left in silence after that. (Y/N) Turning as she silently left to her bedroom, not even bothering to say goodnight to Kurt who sat there still.

Staring out to the void a bit numbly-

Kurt did not sleep the rest of that night, feeling like he was drowning in his own mind and emotions not even bothering to count his rosary as it just laid across the coffee table forgotten.

When the sun rose he hadn't even realized it till he heard the shower start. Blinking a bit in surprise as he tried to get his bearings as fast as possible, rubbing his face as he felt his eyes burn from staying up all night.

It wasn't long until (Y/N) walked out dressed in work clothes as she prepared herself some coffee. Kurt looking to her a bit confused.

"Are you leaving?

"I have to go to work-"

She said almost numbly as she packed herself a lunch for the day. Mostly some leftovers. Kurt messed with his hands a bit.

"You... Could you stay?.. with me for the day?"

(Y/N) shot him a mild venom-less glare- pouring more coffee in the thermas to bring with her. Kurt shrinking down as he knew that had been quite a stretch especially with that last part.

"Not everyone gets that luxury of taking time off.. especially for a bullshit reason like that- besides I already informed the school the boys will be staying home for the rest of the week due to.. personal matters...and they will need someone to watch them"

He looked back up at (Y/N) quickly as she stared at him. A less irritated look on her face.

Kurt read her face well-

'I'm throwing you a bone, If you fuck this up it's on you'

He gave a watery smile, feeling warmth behind his eyes.

"Danke.."

She nodded with a soft sigh.

"Just don't destroy my house-"

(Y/N) mumbled, not bother to speak past that as she marched out of the house. Leaving Kurt alone in now the painfully quiet house.

Kurt moved into the kitchen, Starting to peek around to see what he could find- Hoping a chance of maybe a peace offering breakfast would help. Rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to think of what to go about first-

He only snapped from his thoughts when he heard some shuffling- Looking back as he saw his two little clones.

It made his heart swell each time-

"Where is Mom?.."

Leon asked first- his arms folded across his chest hesitantly as he looked over Kurt. Truthfully just taking in how disheveled the man looked- Yesterday he was a weird geek in a sweatervest and now the two teenagers were seeing a man who looked like he had been homeless for at last 3 days... only in his dress shirt that was rolled up, Very messy hair, He looked exhausted and not an image that a father would want to present to their kid as a first impression- Yet here he was.

"She left for work.. Wanted me to watch you for the day since you're off school. If you'll let me?-"

He had no idea why he said that- possibly a desperate olive branch or even some way of begging for forgiveness. However it did seem like it was what they needed as both twins looked to each other and then nodded to him.

'Thank the Lord'

Kurt still felt incredibly awkward so went to grab some stuff from the fridge to make breakfast- Which wasn't a lot as he felt like he didn't really have enough to make.. angrily chopped vegetables from (Y/N) didnt exactly scream breakfast of champions.

Which only added anxiety at feeling the eyes of his children watching his every move. But It couldn't be helped to find it enduring in some way- it made him think of himself at that age. Evem the way they moved into the kitchen keeping an eye on him as if he would just appear infront of him.

Which he absolutely wouldn't, since he still had the knot on his head the last time he pulled something like that.

His mind started running a mile a minute as he grabbed at some sliced cheese and far too spongey bread- wondering what he would want to hear at meeting his biological father-

Which he scratched off immediately as a dumb idea..

He had no idea if he wanted to ever have a conversation with who he learned as his biological father name of Azazel-

Which was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

"What does your Muther make you for breakfast usually?"

Kurt finally asked, Looking back at the boys who were seated at the island counter.

"Poptarts, cereal. Stuff like that"

Leon said softly, Pointing to the top of the fridge with the boxes of what Kurt would describe as pure crunchy sugar set.

"So viel zucker.. (So much sugar)"

He mumbled, before looking back to Leon.

Leon was far more open and expressive- His emotions were also incredibly readable by his tail, it was like a open book-

The way it moved when he was happy, his hesitancy- It made Kurt able to gauge the situations more with one of the boys at least- knowing where to place the conversation in the future.

Milo on the other hand was damn near impossible- the boy had good posture, a unreadable face most of the time unless clearly wanting to express it and he didn't have the same problem as his twin, his own tail perfectly placed next to him-

'Just like (Y/N)-'

He knew they could be more normal teenagers, Seeing how they ran through the front door with their friend.

Silently he had hoped to see something like that again- A true moment of them being children, as he had missed all of those milestone moments..

WHAM!

All three blue men jumping from their spots as Kurt immediate reaction was grabbing a kitchen knife in hand and turned with white yellow eyes as the front door was forced open. Milo however looking to Kurt with a slight narrowed look as he noted the stance and the knife that seemed to be oddly comforble in his hand...

But marching liked he owned the place was Logan holding a greasy bag in hand and two cups of coffee.

"Logan? Was machst d-?"

"Assistance-"

Logan grumbled, Shoving one of the cups of coffee in Kurt's hand who sighed heavily. He assumed that Logan had caught wind of his day with his children-

Or (Y/N) told him because she didn't trust him alone-

And with the greasy bag of breakfast sandwiches being dished out by Logan he had a sneaky feeling that was the case...

Thanks (Y/N)..

Tag List:

@bruher @alexloveskii @hahaspoilhaha @coliflowerplants @trinswhimsys @black-brained @alastorhazbin @slytherinmushu @i-am-iron-man-3000 @justarandomwriterwriting @allgonemad @sadslasher13 @bimboshaggy @koko-kiko @boywivlove @devotedlyshadowytheorist @newtonfinnigan @mad-grace-amber @bufaunfu @babyred7 @veronika272 @scarymosscryptid @songbirdemerald-blog @lunas-nova @author-kweenyluv

[luvteekl]

Maybe the real reason why the other chaos lords wanted Klarion gone was because he was giving them all body dysmorphia since his waist is more snatched than theirs 😔🥀

Also the real reason why he likes torturing children is because he had enough of 8th graders saying "Haha look at that high-waisted man, he got feminine hips." to him so he crashed out