Ⳋ᧙

nineteen | alastor page

[simplyymor]

⠀⠀☏ ⸜ welcome to my masterlist ⧽

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finally made a masterlist after months of my laziness getting the better of me and also got lazy with writing synopsis…

but yes, this is somewhat inspired by @littlfawndesire (hope you don’t mind…) y’all should check her out as well!

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⌕ ݂ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌 ╱ 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌

𓄲 ݂ puddles

established relationship.

𓄲 ݂ "i told you so"

relationship up to the reader.

𓄲 ݂ hanahaki disease

hanahaki disease ! reader plus father-daughter relationship (i think…)

𓄲 ݂ a kiss is enough

asexual ! alastor plus asexual ! reader (established relationship.)

𓄲 ݂ family curse

childhood friends and human ! alaastor (silent crushing for each other.)

𓄲 ݂ manifestion of discord

manifestion of discord ! reader (undefined relationship.)

𓄲 ݂ all roads lead to rome…

white rabbit ! reader (non-platonic relationship.)

𓄲 ݂ checkmate, darling

dice ! reader (undefined relationship.)

𓄲 ݂ personal triggerman

triggerman ! reader (relationship up to reader.)

𓄲 ݂ stirring the pot

childhood friends plus human ! alastor being an asshole towards your husband.

𓄲 ݂ coils and curls

black woman ! reader plus human ! alastor (established relationship.)

𓄲 ݂ "i hate jazz"

human ! alastor (relationship up to reader.)

𓄲 ݂ close the world

childhood friends.

𓄲 ݂ spoiled on my tongue

fem human ! alastor (established lesbian relationship.)

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⌕ ݂ 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾

𓄲 ݂ "cold hearted"

alastor questioning which event from the early 1900s made you this "cold hearted". (triggerman ! reader)

𓄲 ݂ hose garters

alastor still uses hose garters even though modern socks exist… (triggerman ! reader)

𓄲 ݂ "you speak spanish?!"

alastor speaks spanish… thanks spain for nothing.

𓄲 ݂ french 75

alastor teases reader's order… ft. husk. (triggerman ! reader)

𓄲 ݂ which is more efficient?

gun vs. knife ft. mimzy (triggerman ! reader)

𓄲 ݂ magic word

detective ! reader plus human ! alastor

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⌕ ݂ 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌

𓄲 ݂ "do i creep you out?" moments

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀ 𓄲 . ⠀'detective ! reader' ft. alastor

"butt me would you?"

"what's the magic word?"

"…"

"i'll turn you in or else…?"

"…"

"fair enough."

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[littlfawndesire]

content warning — fluff-to-smut-to-fluff, fingering, praise, alastor speaking a bit of french (endearing terms and a few other phrases), fingers in mouth, p in v, size kink, age gap

sypnosis — it started with alastor helping you do your hair, even tying it up with a pretty ribbon, only for it to end up on the floor.

word count — 3.1k

the firelight flickered peacefully, wood crackling as it burned in the fireplace. alastor sat in his winged armchair — an antique that was acutely crafted to match the time and era he lived in when he was human — reading hell’s latest newspaper. his radio sat perched on the mantle of his fireplace, tuned to a station playing an old jazz tune from the 20s.

meanwhile, you lingered by his vanity, humming along to the music as you removed your hair from the rollers that were pinned in it. one by one, you set them down on the polished wood, bobby pins in a pile beside them. you grab your vintage, horse-hair bristle brush, starting to brush out the fresh curls without making them fall completely.

one of alastor’s ears twitched at the sound of your distant humming, peering over at you from his seat. catching his gaze in the mirror’s reflection, you see him beckon you over with a brief crook of his finger. you smile and turn to him, bringing your brush and a silk ribbon that you planned to use to tie your hair up.

you walk over to him in a near-prance, standing by the arm of his chair as he puts away his newspaper. his hand comes up and gently chucks at your chin, nodding his head downward, just faintly, gesturing for you to sit on the floor between his legs, taking the brush and the ribbon from you. you oblige, stepping around and sitting between his legs on the deer-hide rug, allowing him to do up your hair for you.

at first, his sharp, red-tipped claws rake through your soft locks, twirling a small strand of it around his fingers. he then brings your brush to the top of your head, delicately guiding it down, brushing through your hair. his other hand rested on your shoulder before coming up and cupping your jaw, tilting your head back just so, thumb pressing gently into your plush cheek.

your eyes begin to flutter shut, sighing softly in pure contentment. it always baffled you how such a powerful, prominent figure in hell could be oh-so gentle with you. this tall, lanky overlord who struck fear into the cold, dead hearts of many other overlords, was sitting here brushing your hair.

alastor had his own way of showing it — but he adored you. loved you, even. while he struggled to say it, you knew that he did.

he sets the brush down on the arm of his chair, trading it out for the ivory silk ribbon you’d brought to him as well. he carefully gathers up your hair, pulling the ribbon beneath it before tying your hair up with it in a bow. he tightens it gently, assuring it was secure, his hands coming back down to your shoulders. he leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them linger briefly before slowly pulling back.

your eyes open with a small smile as he pulls back from the kiss to your forehead. your head lulls to the side, resting against his thigh. his typical performative grin — usually so strained and tight, now softer, though it was subtle. the look in his crimson eyes as he gazed down at you spoke volumes about all the things he wished he could say. and that was more than enough for you.

the silence between you both wasn’t awkward, rather.. it was comforting. it was as if, in that one, simple moment — you knew each other’s thoughts.

alastor was never overly affectionate, on occasion he would kiss you — hold you.. but it was mostly moments of hand holding, him kissing the backs of your hands, chucking at your chin, or messing with your hair. but on those rare days that he did more than that? oh, how you cherished it. every second of it.

and now seemed to be one of those very moments — seeing as he leaned down once more to press a kiss to your temple, then a few to your cheek. his hands moved from your shoulders, instead finding your own and taking them into his — merely holding them. his thumbs began delicately stroking your knuckles as he peppered your cheek with kisses, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

your gaze flickers downward as his lips press to your cheek, eyeing the way he held your hands, how massive they were compared to your own. his fingers were long and slender, the backs of his hands particularly boney. at that, he pulled back, just enough to watch you. he hums, hands beginning to slowly slide up your arms, claws grazing your skin, tantalizingly so. and then he releases your arms entirely, only for his hands to take purchase on your waist, lifting you up with minimal effort, perching you on his lap.

he leaned back in his chair, one hand cradling your lower back while the other splayed out across your upper thighs. he fidgeted with the hem of your nightslip, feeling the soft silk between the pads of his fingers. his touch seemed innocent — curious, even. but it most definitely was not, seeing as that hand of his began to push your dress up, claws gliding along your inner thighs, his touch featherlight.

your breath hitched, watching his hand travel farther up, feeling him begin to part your thighs. “mon ange..” he hums lowly, claws grazing your slit through the thin cotton of your panties. “tu sens absolument délicieux,” his voice was a low, seductive purr.

he tugs your panties aside, tracing ever so lightly along your dripping slit. “mm.. I see you’re quite eager for this,” he teases, circling your clit with two fingers, tearing a gasp from your throat. his other hand moves, delicately grasping your jaw, tilting your head back to bare your neck to him. he took full advantage of that, ducking his head down and dragging his lips across the exposed plane of your throat, nipping at your racing pulse point.

“mon dieu.. you’ve no idea how desperately I crave your taste,” he breathes out. “the ways in which I wish to consume you are anything but pure.” his tongue snakes out, gliding up along your jugular, you shiver, arching into him with a soft, helpless bleat.

his fingers slip away from your clit, parting your delicate folds, gliding up and down for a brief moment, before plunging deep into your sweet cunt abruptly, a moan ripping from your parted lips. “such lovely sounds you produce,” he sighs, pulling away from your throat, fingers crooking just so — stroking that sensitive spot within you. “like the sweetest symphony that’s ever graced my ears.”

you writhe against him, eyes fluttering shut as your stomach caves in, your thighs quiver as his thumb finds your clit, pressing gentle circles around it. after a moment, his fingers slip out of you and he brings them up to his nose, inhaling the scent of your delectable arousal. he lets out a near-purr, tongue snaking out to lick them clean, savoring your sweetness.

“oh my.. that’s delightful.” he whispers, fingers taking purchase between your legs again. a whine leaves you and he tuts. his hand shifts, still grasping your jaw, but positioned to where he could slip two fingers into your mouth, allowing you to suckle on them. and you do — quite eagerly, in fact. the pads of his fingers pressing on the flat of your tongue, claws nearly grazing the back of your throat — tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, nearly heaving, but you contained it just barely.

he hushes you gently, almost soothingly, his fingers relentless between your trembling legs. “I can feel that you’re growing close,” he murmurs, nudging at your jaw with his nose. “allow me to get you there — let me make you come undone for me.”

you nod mindlessly, still sucking on his fingers as you feel his fingers speed up, pumping into you with a skillful intensity meant to get you over that edge of release. your stomach caves in, inner walls fluttering as you whimper and mewl frantically around his digits. “come on, my dear.” he coaxes oh-so softly. “let me have you.” he kisses your cheek sweetly, crooking his fingers just so — and you shatter.

you convulse as that beautiful orgasm washes over you, electric shocks of ecstasy running through your veins. the sweet nectar of your body drips down his fingers — a milky white cream that he was eager to lap up as soon as you went limp in his arms. he pulls his fingers from your mouth carefully, wiping them off before he started to pet your hair, soothing you. “that was just magnificent,” he hums. “my sweet girl, so good for me..” he croons, kissing your temple.

“rest for a moment, ma belle petit fillé,” he pulls his fingers out of you gently, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean, sighing in satisfaction at your taste — a delicacy only he would ever have the pleasure of indulging in. “we have nothing but time. we can continue when you’re ready.”

you nod, head lulled to the side as he strokes your hair, loosening the ribbon he’d tied it up with just moments ago. “..’m okay, we can keep going,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“are you certain?” he asks quietly tilting his head down to brush his nose against yours. he feels you nod once more and hums. he shifts you in his lap, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other cradling your back as he stands. he carries you over to his desk, sliding a few things out of the way before setting you down atop it. “just allow me to adjust the bed for you. I can’t have my darling girl uncomfortable,” he kisses your forehead briefly before sinking down into his shadow and manifesting a few feet away, beside his bed. he adjusts the blankets and pillows, ensuring your comfort when he finally lays you down and ravishes you thoroughly.

he then turns, gesturing for you to come to him — and you do so, happily. you slide down off his desk and walk over to him on wobbly legs. he meets you halfway, lifting you by your waist, holding you on his hip. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. let’s get you settled,” he says as he carries you over to his bed. he carefully lies you down on the nest of pillows and blankets he’d made for you. he adjusts your hair so that it wasn’t trapped beneath your head, instead laying it out around it. he brushes a few strands out of your face, grin softening just a fraction. “how’s that, little one?” his hand moves to gently nudge your chin.

“good,” you murmur quietly, shifting to get more comfortable, humming in satisfaction as you settle into the makeshift nest.

he nods, hand shifting to rest on your collarbone, sliding down your chest, between your breasts, and down to the softness of your belly. he rubs at it gently for a moment before moving to undo his trousers. he frees his cock — long and quite generous in its girth. the tip was flushed pink, fading into his melanated skin-tone. there were a few veins, some more prominent than others, especially the one along the underside. he slides your panties down your legs, laying them aside neatly before helping you remove your slip — folding the delicate silk and placing it aside as well.

this would be the first time he’d ever penetrated you with something other than his fingers. you’d unknowingly held your breath, wide eyes gazing at the large appendage. your breath didn’t hitch because you were scared of it, quite the opposite, in fact. it was because you were keen.

he seemed to pick up on that eagerness of yours, letting out an exhale of relief — he was beyond grateful that you weren’t anxious. “if at any point you wish to stop, you must tell me.” he says — it wasn’t a request, it was a demand. one to which you nod in understanding at.

when you nod, he straightens up. he grabs the base of his shaft, stroking it once all the way up to the tip and back down. he uses his other hand to part your thighs, spreading them enough for him to stand between them. he guides his tip to your opening, finding you still slick and wanton for him. he exhales deeply before carefully pushing inside, earning a soft gasp from you — he wasn’t even all the way in yet and you already felt so full.

“I’m not quite sure that it’ll fit like you want it to, little one..” he says wearily, he didn’t want to hurt you.

you pout, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at where he had only about three inches in you. “please just try,” you plead, gaze flickering up to his. you try batting your lashes and using those pretty doe eyes of yours to win him over. he hesitates but eventually exhales deeply. “alright. but if it hurts, I will stop. no if, ands, or buts about it. am I understood?”

you nod quickly in agreement. he pushes in another few inches, pausing to let you adjust. eventually he manages to get most of the way in, your slick arousal helping with lubrication. “should I continue?” he asks, hands moving to grasp your thighs, thumbs stroking the soft skin. he takes your wanton whimper as a ‘yes’ and gradually begins to rock his hips, though he started off achingly slow.

he hums lowly, a static purr from deep in his chest. his pace speeds up, though he kept it gentle. his hands begin to roam up your sides, resting on your ribs, just beneath your bare breasts. “tellement beau..” he whispers beneath his breath, taking a moment to allow his eyes to rake over your nudity. your stomach, though thin, was still soft and plush. your hips were fleshy and rounded, connecting to the softness of your thighs. his gaze travels back up, lingering on your ribs that seemed to be a bit prominent through your skin, then the small, pert mounds that were your breasts.

oddly enough, you felt shy beneath his watchful eye. he seemed to notice, seeing as he then brought one hand up to gently cup your cheek, the other sliding back down to rest on your stomach once more — feeling the bulge that formed there every time he thrusted inward. you lean into his reverent touch, eyes fluttering shut as your brows begin to furrow. the tip of his cock nudged a certain spot within you, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

he paused briefly, “..there?” he questions, wanting you to confirm if he’d found your sweet spot.

“yes..” you breath out, shuddering as he grazes it again. his hips begin to move once more, building up a pace that has you gasping — writhing, even. with every rut of his hips, the veins of his cock rubbed against your inner walls, tip kissing your cervix so delightfully. your head felt fuzzy, stomach fluttering as you began to near that familiar edge of release.

“goodness, already?” he muses as he feels your inner walls contract and flutter around his length. his chuckle was soft, warm in a sense — but never filled with malicious intent, not with you at least. in fact, he was delighted that he could deliver you to an orgasm so quickly, so efficiently. and he intended to take full advantage of that. “come now, lovely. you can let go for me,” he coos, thrusts speeding up. sweet moans and mewls poured from your lips freely, a few helpless bleats slipping through — the sound made his cock throb within you. he grunts faintly, bending at the waist, an arm snaking around your waist. his nose nudges against your throat, lips brushing against your collarbone in soft, fleeting kisses.

your thighs tremble deliciously around his hips, “that’s it, dolly. come on,” he coaxes, his own breathing beginning to become a bit labored. he nips at the junction of your neck and shoulder, tongue laving hungrily at your salty skin. he groans, soothing the bite with a kiss. his hips stutter as you clench around him and cry out, that sweet release washing over you in waves. he speeds up, chasing his own orgasm. a few more thrusts had him coming undone with you, his ears flicking and pinning back against his skull, much like yours. his eyes flutter shut, a bleat escaping him much to his distaste at the seemingly submissive sound — though he was anything but submissive.

he slows his hips to a faint rocking motion, shuddering as hot spurts of his cum paint your inner walls, arm tightening around your waist, holding and comforting you while simultaneously stilling himself. he stays like that for a moment, panting heavily against your neck. eventually he lifts his head, looking down at you. he rocks his hips into you just so, allowing you both to ride out your highs before he pulled out. you’d never been more grateful that only hellbornes could reproduce — not sinners. because having him fill you with his load felt amazing, and even then, amazing was an understatement.

his crimson gaze flickers over your thoroughly fucked-out expression. the softness of it, the sheer ecstasy and satisfaction written all over it made him proud. proud that he’d been the one to make you feel such pleasure. “that’s my good girl,” he sighs, carefully pulling out of you. with a snap of his fingers, he had himself cleaned up and tucked back into his trousers. he then carefully scoops your limp body up in his arms, carrying you to his restroom.

he began to fill the tub with warm water, some scented oils, and bubbles — just the way you liked it. another snap of his fingers and the lights dimmed, candles were scattered around the bathroom, making it relaxing and cozy. he sets you down in the bath, carefully resting your head against the edge.

there was a certain softness to his ever-present grin that made you feel.. whole. loved.

it was possible for the radio demon to care for and cherish someone — though it had to be the right person. and he showed that by the way he washed you up, helped you into your new pajamas, and carried you to bed. he showed his adoration for you in the way he took care of you. and that was more than you could ever ask for, smiling contentedly as he kissed your forehead, allowing sleep to overtake you while you rested in the safety of his arms.

all through the night, he watched over you, as always.

“je t'adore, ma fillé chérie.”

©𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡．no plagiarism or ai training authorised.

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'spoiled on my tongue' ft. fem ! alastor

tags fluff, established sapphic relationship, 1920s, blood, cannibalism..? ⠀⠀𓋜⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀ note i wanted to practice on describing ambience. i, lately, have been obsessed with fem ! alastor, sorry…

the iron kettled whistled as the faint of a deeply aromantic earthy scent traveled through the air of the creaking old townhouse.

the dark wooden floor deeply cleaned through by her now pained wrist despite the few cracks created by the constant stepping of the previous owners—so she told you.

the feeling of soft freshly dried white sheets had contact with your skin and that marvelous cheap nightgown you luckily found at a department store.

reading the inky musky smelling newspaper of the evening of that newsboy who threw it at the porch—any ear close by could hear the rustling as you unfolded the sheet and your quiet humming.

soon after, a set of saunter footsteps and cups clicking interrupted that tracing quiet tune.

"your tea has arrived."

an almost honeyed southern accent came across your ears making you leave your gaze on the thin paper towards her.

alice.

there she stood with that same calculated grin. her eyes creasing just slightly as she was force to smile through everything despite it.

"i still don't get your fancy for tea,"

she spoke almost with a bitter scoff as she walked to her side of the bed, placing the tea tray on the bed.

she then looked at you as she was daring you to make a mess—she always looked at everyone as she’s expecting some sort of miscalculation, a crack to break them more.

her mind was always on edge as if a spirit was telling her to do this and that on loop. there was no quieting a mind like that.

and you…

you threw her off balance when you pointed out o' so bluntly about her compulsive obsessive behavior.

like you knew she would sabotage this.

what you have.

at any given moment.

a slow smile only creeped on your face as you lifted the hand made cup, delicately bringing it up to your nose to inhale that delicious scent that reminded you of comfort.

you quietly sipped it. savoring the brewed leaf drink, letting out a satisfied sigh.

"ebyen?"

["well?"]

your smile reached ear to ear.

"you keep complaining about my fascination for dirty leaves yet you know how to brew it so marvelously well."

she couldn't help but scoff quietly, looking aside contemplating.

"even someone stewed could make that horrendous contamined british water, it's as easy as gutting someone out."

she finally sat on the sheets beside you, keeping that same upright posture. her own nightgown splattered on the bed, keeping eye contact with you behind those oval glasses of hers.

there was a comfortable silence in that moment.

the sounds of dogs barking outside and insects making an unintentional song as they chirped through the damp grass outside the house.

then she suddenly leaned in closer to you, her lips and yours in a position where a kiss could happen.

"the walls are thin. you're really going to risk it?"

"oh, sweetheart,"

she cooed, her condescending tone very much present in her words.

"you're the one who's noisy, not me."

as you parted to lips to argued back, it was too late as she kissed you with a torturing slow pressure. a way to make you feel it, feel her. although she has never showed emotion for such ridiculous sexual human behavior she likes watching your interactions, your squirming, how humorous it was, or so she claims.

then you felt it.

a sharp pained pressure on your tongue as you began to taste an iron like flavor between your mouths but alice wasn't showing any sign of stopping it.

after a beat.

"you taste disgusting."

it should've stung. you should've been mad at her.

but the way she looked so satisfyingly happy, licking your blood off her lips as she finally sated a growing monster inside of her, it made you feel weird inside.

"you made my palette spoiled by drinking that."

"you bit my tongue."

"worth it."

you couldn't be mad at her for that long…

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

fem ! alastor (alice) with a pixie cut oh yeaaamhugh

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

fem ! alastor (alice) touching and combing your hair… mmmmhhjuggh

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[littlfawndesire]

‿੭　ℰ𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒯𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑠　ৎ‿‿

just a few ideas on certain endearing terms alastor would use for you — as well as a few descriptions!

dear / my dear —

this one I feel is pretty obvious, as he frequently uses such terms in the actual show! mostly uses these, especially in public or just around others in general.

darling —

this is another common term that I’ve seen a lot of writers use for him! with the time and era he was from, darling was pretty common as well.

sweetheart —

this was used in the show once, but it was when alastor was mocking vox. though, I could see him using it quite frequently as well.

baby —

now, this one was also used during a scene where alastor mocked vox. and I can’t really imagine him using it much on you, but on occasion (very rarely) it would slip out — but definitely, strictly in private.

doll —

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone use this one when writing for him — but it was pretty common back in the early 1900s, as well as dollface. I could see alastor calling you doll maybe just once, but hardly ever. I can’t imagine him using dollface, though.

doe / fawn —

he would definitely use these more in Hell rather than in life, more-so just because it makes better sense. I could definitely see him calling you his little doe / fawn in life and death, though.

ma ange —

you can’t expect me not to take advantage of him knowing basic french terminology. this is definitely in his vocabulary.

ma belle petit fillé —

again with the French usage.. it has me in a chokehold, I fear. I will never shut up about french-speaking alastor.

ma biche / mon petit faon —

this is really just an extension of the doe / fawn one, but make it french. that’s it, that’s the tweet.

now, those were just a few of his endearing terms for you. but it’s his turn now! what would you call him + if he would like it.

starting off strong with a common one — at least in today’s time and age;

daddy —

believe it or not, but this isn’t a modern term at all. a lot of women used to call their lovers their ‘daddy’. more often it was used for sugar daddies, but it still applied to their actual lovers. it was actually quite common during the period alastor lived in.

if I said it was his favorite term, unfortunately I’d be lying — but he wouldn’t be opposed to it, necessarily.

sir —

you’re just going to have to hear me out on this one. I feel like this would be a definite yes from him. you say it out of habit, as you’re just ever so polite, but he adores it. it makes him feel powerful and in-control, in a sense. he loves the power trip. especially after being on a leash with rosie, plus his time at the vee tower after his deal with vox — you better believe it gives him a rush.

the more common terms such as baby, sweetheart, my love, all that jazz.. a yes from both alastor and reader.

come for me if you wish, but I absolutely loathe ‘babe’. I just hate it — I cannot stand it.

anyway, that’s all! bye-bye for now, sweet angels ✉️

©𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡．no plagiarism or ai training authorised.

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'triggerman ! reader' with alastor ft. mimzy

"a gun is more sufficient."

"a knife is more instant."

"a knife rans your stamina out."

"a gun makes you beyond lazy."

"at least i don't have to think twice on where to hit."

"at least i don't ran out of ammo."

"well at least—!"

"for all my stars! both are great!"

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'triggerman ! reader' with alastor ft. husk

"could you make me a uh… french 75?"

"sure thing."

"you're really going to drink something as washed up as that?"

"…"

"gimme that polish vodka."

"good lord…"

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'close the world' ft. alastor

tags angst, childhood friends ⠀⠀𓋜⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀ note i don't like how i write but wtv…and this is short so sorry

the sound of soft giggles and tiny feet squishing on the mud and releasing with a loud ploup echoed through the bayou as toddlers ran around.

"stop being a slow poke, [name]!"

his voice raised a bit breathless as he kept running forward, not even looking back at you to confirm you were following—because you were.

you were naturally slow.

you panted with each step as you tried to catch up to him. trying so hard not to tear up like last time when you didn’t catch up to him and fell straight into the ground.

a now healed scrape on your forehead for proof of that incident.

"i'm comi—"

an oof sound came out of your throat as you suddenly bumped into him and falling on the mud on your butt.

"ow!"

you rub your lower back. eyes squished shut with your brows knitted together to emphasize the sudden pain.

"why'd you…"

your voice trailed off as you finally saw him.

he was holding a small bird between both of his small palms. it was a mesmerizing color of red as for the end of its beak a charcoal black.

both of you have seen birds in your small lifetime. always in the backyard of your mamas houses, just eating from seeds your mother puts outside for them, flying around, singing, and just being free—

crack.

"…"

"…"

you didn't how to feel in that exact moment.

you just stared at him with those eyes of yours. then you looked at the bird then at alastor again as he looked at you with no expression.

there was no guilt—no remorse, no tears.

just… utter calmness.

in that moment, in that gruesome moment, both of you realized something—something deep inside both of you, there was a monster eating its way up to escape from both of you.

you should've ran away that time. you should've told his mother what he did. you should've—

but you didn't.

you felt a sudden coldness. muffled loud screams as you tried to make them out, as you tried to move any of your limps.

oh.

right.

you got deeply injured by trying to save him.

him.

you couldn't help but smile at that. you still wonder why you still kept contact with him after becoming an independent adult back in new orleans. back when everything was "easier" and you didn't have to be involved in some hell with lucifer's daughter at some charity hotel to redeem sinners.

why were you saving him again…?

right.

lilith.

or was it rosie? maybe lucifer? lute…?

doesn't matter. it just doesn't matter now.

"[name]!"

charlie’s voice came in your ears o' yet so clear as she tried to patch up your chest wound because that's what she does—to fix the broken.

you felt her tears on your cheek as they ran down. you heard vaggi trying to talk to her, something about it being too late… just something between those lines.

then there was alastor who just stood there frozen with that stupid golden smile still lingering on his face.

now he was the one who didn't know how to feel. he wasn't the one for such emotions even if he grew up with you, even if you were "friends" back then and now, even if…

but there was something. there was a bond between you, something no one could replicate, something beyond friendship, beyond romance, beyond everything.

you were everything.

why was he now realizing this?

everyone was silent now as your soulless heart gave out. your eyes full of color were bow dull, your soft small smile now replaced with a tired expression.

charlie, the always optimistic one, tried to calm everyone down by muttering—

"may—maybe they're in heaven!"

she declared her hands bloody from the attempt to save you as she stood up to look at everyone.

"maybe they undid their sin—"

"no."

alastor cut through her nonsense speech as he finally moved closer to your corpse. everyone stayed quiet as they watched alastor, waiting for him to continue.

he stared at you like your dead was a full on joke.

"they didn't redeem themselves."

he said o' so compose as his stupid brain started to remind him of all the times you two laughed back in the twenties.

"their sin was…"

he paused for just a beat as he didn't explain further, leaving everyone to their imagination was your sin was. his heart felt heavy all of the sudden as he had a grip on his cane, his smile trained.

you willingly associated yourself with him knowing full well that he was a serial murderer.

that was your sin.

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'what the fuck you speak spanish?!' w alastor

"no creo que hayamos superado en verdad esa barrera de idioma."

[i don't think we ever really got over that language barrier.]

"no, no es tu culpa."

[no, it's not your fault.]

"que pedo, hablas español?!"

[what the fuck you speak spanish?!]

"por supuesto que si."

[of course i do.]

"hablabas español todo este tiempo que estuve aquí?"

[you've spoke spanish the whole time i've been here?!]

"hablo español desde los cinco años."

[i speak spanish since i was five years old.]

"cinco?!"

[five?!]

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'i hate jazz' w alastor

tags fluff, relationship up to the reader⠀⠀𓋜⠀⠀

the street lamps buzz as the gas kept them on for this breezy night. the moon shining as it always does for the people to keep seeing at night.

laughter echoed through the long empty narrow cobblestone street. the sound of clicking heels passing by creating a beat.

then that same beat collapse at such words.

"i hate jazz."

far too certain.

far too unacceptable.

he stood there as he felt his own mood relapse.

"pardon?"

there should be an explanation for such alert in.

it was too unbelievable.

"i hate jazz."

there it was again.

he couldn't help but laugh—cackle at your foolish words. you weren't well perhaps. perhaps that was it.

"i see your mental health is declining. perhaps you should see a doctor, yes?"

he spoke with a very condescending tone as he continued to walk with a casual demeanor, as if he hasn't just insulted you in your face.

who wouldn't like such rich genre? it has every little thing for it be considered a dopamine for the day. it was a genre to make the body be in the mood for love, happiness, relief, even sadness.

you let out a quiet huff as you rushed to keep up with his pacing. you weren't exactly lying. jazz wasn't for you. it was too slow, too lousy, too disorganized.

"i am quite well, thank you for such concern."

"then what makes you hate it?"

"it just sounds like tableware being thrown at a wall with no purpose at all. it's too disorganized."

ah.

so that was it.

"well, my dear, you just haven't experienced the real jazz then. you've only listen to the ones where white folks have an orchestra behind them, not knowing the art of improvisation."

he mused with confidence, nailing your reasoning with perfection.

you looked at his side profile as he spoke. you weren't surprised by the accuracy of his words, he was perceptive after all.

and just about when you were going to speak up again, that's when you realize you were stepping on stairs going down at a wooden door.

you got distracted once again.

"where are we?"

"where the real music plays, of course. where it shivers your bones and reaches at the bottom of your very soul."

"…"

you immediately felt like a sore thumb at such crowd. adults of all ages, everyone different, everyone included, united, enjoying.

the band played as a woman sang. the spotlight shined at her and only her as it illuminated her curls which were slightly loose from the sweat, probably from performing hard with those vocals—vocals that reached through your soul.

you were so caught up with everything around you, you didn't even heard alastor offering his hand to you.

"dear?"

you slightly jumped looking at him. you parted your lips to respond back, trying to keep a composure but he always—always—saw through you.

you held his hand gently as he dragged you to the dance floor where a space between the dancing crowd was.

your body just moved.

you didn't know if it moved because of the pretty woman’s powerful voice blasting in these walls.

if it moved because of him. you just followed him.

and… it ended.

too quick.

too fast.

a noise rang in your ears as the people's cheering was growing muffled. you felt yourself swallow and being breathless, your body still trembling from the adrenaline.

then it brought you back.

"so?"

that single worded question brought you back.

both of you standing face to face as he waited—he always waited despite making fun of you every time he got the opportunity to do so.

everything was in slow motion as your mouth opened to respond with honesty.

"i love jazz."

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

⠀ ⠀⚲ . ⠀'do i creep you out?' moments w alastor⠀⠀

'do i creep you out?' alastor when you found out about his murder strike. he could smile o' so gently when you stood in front him confronting him about it.

'do i creep you out?' alastor when he offered you so casually if you wanted human meat tonight and you stood there stunned.

'do i creep you out?' alastor every time he twists his head in full circle like an owl, or when he cracks in his limps in unusual ways and you just stare at him.

'do i creep you out?' alastor when he transforms into his demon form in the middle of night where the light could barely light up his face and your heart jumps out every time when your mind finally processed his face making it visible for your vision.

'do i creep you out?' alastor when he invites you to his radio station to witness how he tortures overlords. a deafening scream every time—shaking the entirety of the pride ring as you just stand in the corner of the room stiff as a bow, the sinner dragging themselves towards you for help but alastor just drags them back for more.

'do i creep you out?' alastor when he makes a joke so morbid you just have to give him a stare while he just keeps laughing at his how humor.

'do i creep you out?' alastor when he gifts you a souvenir from the person he killed—a piece of bone, a tooth, a cuff link… it’s a trophy.

⠀ ⠀ © . ⠀simplyymor 2026

[simplyymor]

Yall… Alastor x Tiana.

[simplyymor]

Human ! Alastor x Reader

Note: i wrote this viewing reader as a black woman and im very sorry if this is offensive in a way

Soft curls. Soft coils.

Two different types of hair and still so similar in how long it takes to maintain them.

Frizzy coils. Frizzy curls.

Yet, makes the perfect choice to spend time together with the person you adore.

New Orleans night, after such wasted time—giggling on the sidewalk on the way home, the thought of doing prep before sleeping went above your dizzy minds.

Missing the clock of the morning, the feeling of the warm sun woke you up till you realized you were late for work.

You cursed under your breath as you immediately and almost falling on your face on the wooden floor as you went to the bathroom and surprised, surprised—

“You have to be kiddin'.” You stood there in front of the mirror. Your hair in a frizz, not even detangled, and worse part?

You were still late.

And you didn’t have time for this.

You swore you felt rage in the pit of your stomach as you tried to go has fast as your body could to figure out your messy coils.

As soon as you were about crash out, his presence filled the air.

There he stood on the doorway of the bathroom. His curls were a mess too. All frizzy and tangled.

Even if he was giving a small smiling he was clearly not in the mood to dealt with it either. The slight purpleish color under his eyes was telling—he was over it.

He opened his mouth, muttering in a tone that indicated he just woke up a second ago.

“Let’s not talk about it, shall we?”

The same question that meant he’ll help you with your hair if you help him in exchange.

And you did.

He easily went to fix up your hair for the day—giving you a kiss on your forehead after admiring his handy work.

And you soon assist him with his own hair, making his curls tight and not loose with frizz for a more presentable look.

Is the smallest things like this that made his presence more warming every time.

[simplyymor]

My Personal Headcanons of Alastor

Note: this also includes x reader, im so in love w him im sorry…💔

੭ Born in a winter of 1899. December, mainly.

੭ Died in an autumn of 1933.

੭ Last name is Monstesque.

੭ Naturally enjoys gothic literature.

੭ His opinion on children would depend on how they behave around him and anyone around them—especially on how their attitude is with their mothers.

Following this, if the parents abuses that child, he wouldn’t really blame the kid, he just wouldn’t have an opinion of them.

੭ He only smokes in private and when he’s stressed like absolutely dreadfully stressed.

੭ He likes being presentable but not to the point of being obsessive about it.

੭ He’s allergic to something but I can’t pin point what exactly.

੭ When he enjoys something—either a book, film, etc—he absolutely goes nerdy about it and would absolutely hate when someone mentions that they dislike that something that he loves.

੭ Vivz has stated that he has a weird moral code when killing and I wanna believe he murders problematic people such as racists, and all the above honestly.

Also kills rude, egotistical, arrogant people and so so… which I don’t see where the weird part is but yeah.

੭ He drinks black coffee every morning without failure.

Following this, his teeth were definitely a bit stained when he was alive.

੭ He used to have a routine when he was alive. I’m not saying he doesn’t right now but he doesn’t have a job in Hell so…

੭ He once broke a bird’s neck when he was a kid and that awaken something in him, in a way.

੭ If he wasn’t murdered by a hunter, he would’ve died by an illness because of the human meat he ate or something in the lines.

੭ He rarely gives kisses on the lips but on your hand, cheek, and forehead—especially that—he mostly does.

੭ He’s very very attentive, observant, and comprehensible, he just likes being a stubborn nuisance just for the game of it.

੭ He can enjoy more than just jazz. Jazz is simply his dopamine to get through the day.

੭ We all been knew Alastor is a great cook except baking but I feel like he only knows how to bake a pastry his mother used to do and she gave him the secret recipe and it took so much practice—but he finally nailed it.

੭ He couldn’t connect well with kids when he was little and mostly boys since it was all about men being afraid of showing vulnerability and having to be strong and so on in that era.

With girls, he did connect but not in a personal emotional level, you know?

੭ The only time he genuinely showed being scared is when he disappointed his mother.

੭ He isn’t possessive or jealous because he knows that you’re his and expects for you to be loyal. Why waste his time worrying about the bare minimum?

But he will absolutely kill anyone who tries to be rude or weird towards you.

੭ Absolutely loves when you do his tie and undo it—and even yank it when you’re annoyed by something he did.

He wouldn’t admit it though… his face says otherwise.

੭ He watches you when you sleep.

He can’t explain the why of it, maybe it’s because you just look so human in that moment.

੭ Loves cooking for you and he loves when you cook for him. Following this, he always waits for you to sit down at the dinner table to eat together.

Also likes when both of you clean the house together.

Also enjoys when you help him iron his clothes because he gets to also help you with your outfit of the day.

੭ Always opens the door for you so you can step inside a place first and always pulls your chair for you to sit first.

੭ Gives you compliments and also expects for you to do the same for him. He likes being praised by you, especially.

੭ Loves dancing with you, to any song you both like, the dance could be so tiring he wouldn’t care, he just loves watching you two have a great time.

੭ He gets a thrill every time you accuse him of going to a rampage when he comes home late—which you aren’t wrong.

੭ Provides for you and the moment you say you want to put your own money in a bill he shuts that silly idea off immediately.

੭ He enjoys doing dates at night time.

੭ He would never yell at you even if it’s a heated argument. He would just state the obvious to you and your own flaws till either of you crumble and apologize.

He’s always the one to apologize after you shatter first and say sorry.

੭ He’s never late and never early, he’s right on time, exactly on the clock.

੭ He’s good at guessing.

੭ I feel like he would eat fruit when it’s basically unripe…

੭ He hates doing his hair in the morning when it’s not prep before so, especially the whole mess that leaves in the bathroom.

Following this, he always thanks whoever is spiritually there for bringing you in his life because he loves when you help him with his hair.

He also helps with your own hair. Teehee.

੭ His handwriting is shit but still understandable.

੭ I don’t think he ever travel anywhere outside of Louisiana.

੭ He doodles and scribbles in his scripts because in his words “it helps him memorize”.

੭ Likes bitter black chocolate.

੭ He once said a joke that didn’t land well and he never again mentions it.

੭ Was in denial as a teen that he was going slightly blind—he just hated how glasses looked.

੭ Loves buttoning up your dresses, shirts, and any other tops.

੭ He loves the teasing dynamic you two have.

੭ His way of comforting you is by just staying near you till you stop crying and he asks you what exactly happened but he doesn’t comfort with words afterwards, he mostly listens.

[simplyymor]

Human ! Alastor x Reader

Alastor isn’t the jealous type, really.

He just absolutely loves to make people annoyed and take advantage of that through being a charming nuisance.

Especially towards your lover.

“What a lovely box,” Your voice spoke joyfully as you had Alastor’s gift in your hands.

It was another chilly year of Christmas.

Your family and the Montesque family used to have gatherings each year ever since you and Alastor were born. It was a tradition at that point but it slightly broke off as you married that shrew of a partner.

In Alastor’s words anyway.

They aren’t worthy of you, he stated.

Everyone was gathered in the living room of your house. The Christmas tree all decorated and the whole place basically looked like a Christmas wonderland.

You giggled as you opened the colorful box and that’s where you saw it.

You knew Alastor was attentive but that attentive to remember that item you always dreamed about since you were young ones?

“Oh my God!” You took the item on your hands, laughing gleefully.

“What?” Your partner asked.

Alastor had a big smug on his face as he turned to you, looking all excited.

“Where do you get this, what?” You asked admiring the gift, holding it with such care.

He gave a small chuckle. “Now, that’s a secret, my dear.”

“That’s your gift…?” Your lover said skeptically, if you hear close enough there was a bit of a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

You almost scoff as you spoke with a smile. “Only the best present ever! Oh, thank you so much, Alastor!”

You went to hug him.

Alastor, once again, won this year.