⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Alastor savours the novelty of having something no one else knows. To him, privacy is power. When you ask why your relationship has to be a secret, he smiles a wide, static grin. “I find it entertaining, dear. Let me have my fun.” You roll your eyes, and he just laughs harder.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He appears in your room spontaneously, slipping through the shadows. The lights will flicker, and he'll be studying your personal items. "I hope I'm not interrupting,” he says, fully aware that he is. He likes seeing your space because it tells him more about you than words ever could.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Alastor is careful not to arouse anybody's suspicion. He won't acknowledge you much in mixed company. But in private, he drops the act as much as he's able. His eyes will settle on you with real interest. “You do have a way of making my day far more amusing.”
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ His flirtations are subtle. Most compliments fly under the radar, so he'll watch you carefully to see if you catch it. “You look quite charming today,” he tells you in the lobby, hands behind his back. The smile that curls on his face is small but real.
⋆｡𖦹°‧★ The secrecy becomes a game he cherishes more than he expected. It's rare for him to possess something that grants genuine satisfaction. You begin to suspect he keeps the relationship a secret because he likes having one part of his world that is yours alone.
────────⊳⋆⊲────────
Speed posting through the weekend because the days ahead are going to be wild.
a/n: finally smut! I really like how this turned out, I hope you’ll like it too. Currently I don’t have the ability to post too often, since I am flooded by exams and whatnot, but I am trying!
Also, before you read: S2 EP4 SPOILERS
warnings: SMUT, choking, bondage(not too extreme), swearing, Alastor getting humbled(my fav) and the usual!
───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───
Fuck this. Fuck this hotel. Fuck the deal.
These were the thoughts that went through his head as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. He looked in the mirror and his grin widened, how pathetic. The bayou was calm, except when the wind rattled the roach crown hanging on his vanity. He threw back the rest of his whiskey and groaned when he saw that the bottle was empty.
As he was about to smash the damn vanity mirror to pieces, he heard the snapping of fingers, and the glass was full again, the melted ice replaced too. He growled.
“What are you doing out here?” He didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know that you were standing somewhere behind him, he just looked to the side and saw you swaying on a swing out of his peripheral visio— “How the hell did that get there?”
You just giggled, your eyes softening at his tense form. “Felt like going on a walk, I suppose.” You shrugged while picking on the rope of the swing, completely ignoring his question about the swing. He should have known, he thought, not to question you. You were a stubborn wicked little thing, that was the exact reason he liked you. While others shivered in his presence, you raised a brow and found a way to get under his skin. Your favourite was using your dark red smoke tendrils to pick at his ears and then pretend to be busy. He always knew it was you, there wasn’t a single time he fell for it, but he pretended to fall for it every single time, only to grin when you tried to hide your giggles, and failing miserably.
He lifted up his hand to take a drag again, only to find out that the cigarette disappeared from between his fingers. He finally turned around and his breath hitched in his throat.
You were sitting on the swing, legs crossed and smoking the cigarette that he was holding a minute ago, in a silk nightgown that reached the floor. One of the straps slipped down your shoulder and the curve of your breast was visible, so inviting, as if it was compelling him to sink his teeth into your supple flesh. The cigarette held between your manicured fingers, your dark lips wrapping around the filter, leaving dark red behind. Your sultry eyes that were staring hungrily at him momentarily rolled back as you inhaled the smoke into your lungs.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s the matter? Or are you going to stand there all day and feel sorry for yourself?” You raised a brow. As much as he hated when he got humbled, he knew you were right.
“I’m just tired of it all. I had enough of being everyone’s puppet, when I am supposed to be the one pulling all the strings!” He half expected you to pout at his misfortune, say sweet nothings of how he was still the most powerful sinner or get up to comfort him. What he didn’t expect was you chortling at his words. You gripped the rope of the swing to ground yourself, while also wiping away the tears caused by your laughing.
A few moments later, you stood and walked over to him, hunched over due to your whole-hearted laughter. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sat on the edge of his vanity, composed yourself and clapped. “Brava! What a performance! I truly didn’t think you were capable of looking even more pathetic, but… here you are!” His angry growl was followed by static, his ears flattened against his head and his teeth nearly crushing each other because of his spiteful grin.
“Fuck this, I don’t need this right no—“ As he began to disappear into his shadow, your dark purplish smoke wrapped around it and pulled him out, nudging him before you. “Now, now, is it polite to walk out on a lady? I might also have a little solution for your situation.”
“As if you would know a solution to my situation.” He murmured, thinking you wouldn’t hear him. But his plans of silent treatment were ruined by your phenomenal hearing, the perks of being a powerful succubus Overlord. Your powers depended on senses.
“If only you wouldn’t be so impatient… Well, I cannot give you a long term solution, but I can calm your rage, so your silly little friends won’t see you being this much of a mess.” His ears perked up at that. As annoyed he was with you, he really did need to find a way he could calm himself. He couldn’t see Charlie and the others see him like this, let alone anyone else. The high and mighty Alastor, acting like a kicked puppy, only because he didn’t have firm control over every single thing around him.
He waited for an answer, he decided to look you in the eyes for the first time since you pulled him out of his shadow’s comfort, and his eyes widened.
You were looking at him with sultry bedroom eyes and a sly smirk. Your eyes darkened, along with your lips every second as you two held the intense eye contact. He knew instantly what you were offering, and damn him if he wasn’t taking. If he was in his right mind, he would have scoffed and turned on his heel, but in this moment, he let himself think of it. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to you even if he tried telling himself he wasn’t. You were a succubus after all, a creature thriving on desire and power. You cocked a brow, waiting for his answer, which you got a moment later when he pushed you more into the vanity and claimed your lips like a man starved. You giggled with an undertone of relief, finally having the sexy demon kissing you and feeling you up.
When he kissed hard, you kissed back even harder. Teeth, tongue and spit were not spared. Soon, he was gripping your waist, in a way that made sure you were going to be covered in purplish marks in the shape of his palms, and your fingers were tugging at his hair harshly, drawing a bitten back whimper every time.
You pushed against him to stand, and once you were on your feet, you began pushing him forward even more.
His heart nearly dropped as he felt himself falling backwards, until his back hit something soft. His eyes popped open, only to find a change of scenery. Within the blink of an eye, you two were in your bedroom. He raised his brows and looked at you in question. You just shrugged. “More privacy than your bedroom, and believe me… I do not like to hold back.” He nodded, it made sense, she wasn’t staying at the hotel, although god knew where she lived. Whatever, the mystery of how he was going to go back home was a problem for later. Now? All he could focus on was you.
The way your hair swayed around you.
The way you were devouring him with your seductive eyes.
The way your chest rose with every breath of yours, making the nightgown tighten around your breast for a small moment.
The way your heavenly body was on his, creating electricity wherever your soft skin touched his.
He couldn’t control himself, he had to have you. He tried to tug at your hair, but your dark smoke wrapped around his wrist and pulled it upwards. Another smoke tendril untied his bow-tie and used it to tie his wrist to the bed. He hissed at you and struggled against the tie, only to fail.
You stood up and looked at him from the foot of your bed. “Oh, look at you, Alastor. So pathetic.” He would have said something, cursed at you, threatened to tear you apart if you wouldn’t free him… If only your words didn’t make his cock twitch in his trousers, and of course you noticed. You smirked, looking down at him as if he was your toy, and in this moment, that was exactly what he was. With a flick of your finger, your smoke tendrils appeared again, hovering over the zippers of his pants and his dress shirt. “Nod if you want to continue. If you don’t, we’ll just have a drink and go on with our days.”
He hesitated, not because he didn’t know whether he wanted you and this or not, he definitely wanted to be inside you and let his anger melt away by your addicting touch. No, he hesitated because he didn’t know what you were up to, he would have bet that you were someone who preferred her partner to have control. “What are you playing at, darling?” He said with a sultry look.
“Think of it as a form of… exposure therapy?” You let one of the straps of your nightgown fall. “I’ll show you that not being in control isn’t always agony, no… if you look at it differently, it can be exquisite, and enjoyable.” You pushed the other strap off, so the silk was just barely covering your chest.
He nodded, and your shadows didn’t hesitate a second. Within a blink of an eye, his clothes disappeared, except for his shirt, his poorly sewn wound on display as a cruel reminder of his failure. Both of you looked at his rock hard reddish cock, desperate even for an ounce of your attention.
You pushed the silky material off your body, revealing that you haven’t been wearing underwear this whole time, your delicious naked body revealed to his eager eye.
“Fuck…” he murmured under his breath, he tugged at the tie again, dying to reach out and touch you, trace your curves. He groaned in frustration as he struggled against his restraint, especially as you looked at him with such amusement, while also running your palms along your hips, squeezing to show off the plushiness of them, just how he liked it. You caressed your breasts, you let your head fall back with a relieved little moan. “You are playing with fire, darling…” his voice darkened, and bright green runes danced around him as his desire and impatience for you grew greatly.
“Careful of what you say, sweetheart, I bite.” You slowly crawled over him, your center hovering over his twitching cock. You looked down at him, just before you reached for his half-unbuttoned shirt and tore it in half. You kissed around his shoulders and neck, leaving behind little nips and marks, along with the shape of your teeth. It wasn’t long until the first drop of blood was drawn. The way you were treating him made him feral in all the right ways.
“Oh, darling! What a delight you ar—oh~“ he felt something hot on his cock, only to look down an see than a drop of slick was running down his length, you were fucking dripping for him. You giggled at his amazement and finally began grinding against him. He couldn’t control himself, he leaned up and kissed you harshly.
You two grinded, whimpered and kissed into each other, until there wasn’t any air within your lungs. You pulled away, both of you just staring at each other like crazed wild animals, panting with an open mouth. His hair was messed up, due to your curious little fingers, his eyes blown and manic of lust. And you… my, you were a sight to behold. Hair messy, lips dark and swollen, glossy from his saliva. You giggled at the way he was staring at you.
“That is what you do to me, Alastor. What seeing you like this does to me. God, you have no idea how hot you make me. Walking around chin up, knowing of your power, that is so fucking hot. That is why seeing you so pitiful makes me disappointed. It isn’t you.” He noticed that your opening was right against his tip and his grin got brighter as he got the idea.
“Then, my darling girl, let me show you how I take back the control you are so proud of possessing…”
You tilted your head, still as smug as before. “And just how are you—-FUCK!” With a sharp thrust of his hips, he was balls deep inside you. The meeting of your bodies was… electric, although he couldn’t see how it was so intense, maybe because he wasn’t ever this turned on. You both groaned at your connection, your body fell forward against his, but still mindful of his wound. He continued thrusting sharply with a stabbing motion inside you, not only to prove a point, but because he couldn’t help himself. You were so wet, warm and tight against his pulsing member. “Oh, you pretty little thing… You feel so good.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, which invited him to since you threw your head back lost in the moment. You didn’t even realize that it was him in control, he was the one pleasuring you. “Look at you, so obedient, so pretty, responding to me so well.” He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he licked the curve of your shoulder and bit into it with his sharp teeth. You yelped, but the pain mixed into pleasure and you found yourself snapped back into reality. You let out a cruel laugh and wrapped your hand around his throat, only to leave him feeling a little lightheaded. He stopped moving his hips out of confusion.
“I see what you are trying to do. But right now?” You transformed into your demon form, your hair floated around you, your eyes got dark and your sharp horns came out. “You are my bitch, not the other way around.” With that, you were riding him as if your life was on the line. You danced on top of him, taking away any bit of dignity he had left with your movements. He was an absolute mess under you. He groaned, growled, moaned, whimpered. His eyes were closed shut, which you didn’t like. So you tutted and brought him back to reality by forming a smoke ring chain around his neck and tugging on it. His eyes popped open and he was too pussy whipped to be angry at how you were pushing and pulling at him like a puppet. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to his peak as you were doing your thing. He felt his swollen tip tapping into your spongy spot every time you brought your pelvis down to meet his. He could feel the way you sneakily grinded your sensitive clit against his skin. And he could feel that you were also on the edge.
You decided it was time to go even faster, and you began bouncing on top of him. You held yourself up by his largened antlers, which did something to him.
The sound of your skin meeting, the scent of your arousal filling the room and the way you looked on top of him. It wasn’t rocket science to tell by your looks that you were a succubus, but seeing you in action… Fuck, you were incredibly hot.
With a loud moan, he came, filling you up with his hot cum, leaving his essence deep inside you. The second his pearly fluid hit your walls, you came too with a shudder. Your whole body tightened and your senses felt fuzzy. The second your body collapsed on his, your shadows untied him. His arms immediately wrapped around your twitching body.
For quite a few minutes, you two just laid there. Him still inside you, both of you reveling in the feel of your intense orgasms. He was the first to speak up.
“I didn’t think I would say this, but thank you, darling.” You just smiled up at him and pecked his lips once again. Then, you put your head back into his neck, closing your eyes and letting the sleepiness overtake you. Once he heard your breaths evening out, he decided to do the same.
————————————————-
“Eventually, I accompanied him back into his bayou and both of us continued on with our days.” You said as you sipped your tea.
“Oh, my! How saucy! And tell me, dear, how was sex with him different from the others?” The lady in front of you said, waiting eagerly for your response.
“It felt… electric. Even if he doesn’t know the reason yet, I know he felt it too, I could see it in his eyes. He might be tight-lipped about his emotions, his body told me everything I needed to know.” You smirked at your dearest friend and winked at her.
“About that… When exactly are you going to tell him that I am not actually the owner of his soul, but you?” Rosie raised a brow. “Not that I don’t enjoy teasing him, but we are getting closer and closer to—-“
“Hush! Do you hear that?” You held up a finger, you heard Alastor on his way here. Trotting along the pavement, humming a tune, picking a bouquet of flowers out of a bush. “He is on his way here.”
You quickly stood and pecked Rosie on the cheek, before snapping your fingers and disappearing, just as the door to Rosie’s boutique flew open.
Alastor holding his baby girl in his arms, trying to maintain his composure as he stares down at her. She’s so small and fragile, yet her tiny hand curls around a singular finger and grips with a strength he never knew such a tiny being could possess, inspiring pride in his chest. She looks like a perfect blend of you and him, but she also looks a bit like his maman. It’s her eyes. It has to be. She looks at him so tenderly, with no judgement, just love.
“Mornin’, mon chouchou,” Alastor murmurs to her, dipping his head to press a reverent kiss to her nose, voice sweet and low. “Did you sleep well? Hm? Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
She doesn’t respond, of course she doesn’t. She’s only 5 months old. There’s a lot she has to learn. She is only capable of cooing or babbling.
“Oh, I’m sure you did, seeing as you woke me up at 6 A.M.,” Alastor softly continues, legs striding towards the living room, trying not to wake you. “You kept your maman up alllll night, didn’t you?”
A smile cracks at his lips, brows scrunching together, tears brimming his vision. He still can’t believe that you, his wife, made him a father, and he’s simultaneously ecstatic and afraid. Alastor knows he’s not a good man, but as his beloved fawn stares up at him and parts her lips with a tiny coo, he fleetingly entertains the thought if he can change for her. If he can be a better person, even though he knows God has already decided his fate.
Imitation of an angel wrecked me. I take meds that make it damn near impossible to cry so why am I sitting here with actual tears streaming down my face??
Please give us a part 2 I’m begging 🧎♀️
Imitation of an Angel, picture of holiness Part 2
Pairing: Alastor x f!reader
Summary: Alastor and the reader were married in life. Then he got killed. They're reunited when the reader gets sent in hell but her appearance as a sinner eerily resembles angels in heaven. Read part 1 here.
a/n: See, this is what happens when I forget that usually what I consider fluff is actually bittersweet and painful because I'm predominantly writing for a fandom that thinks basic decency is too sweet or manipulative and majority of the works there are about toxic relationships. So I try to match that theme, then I post a fic in another fandom and this reaction happens...Lol. Anyway, Imitation of an Angel was originally supposed to be a oneshot. I didn't expect to receive requests for a part 2 but I did. So here you go, hope you like it!
When you and Alastor disappeared into the shadows in front of the Vees, it wasn’t even dramatic enough for how offended Vox felt about it.
One second, you were standing there - luminous and calm, hands folded like a saint in an old cathedral painting, wings faintly aglow, and the next, the air crackled, radios shrieked, shadows bent like curtains in a storm…
Gone.
Just gone.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Vox’s screen glitched.
Velvette blinked several times, slow and disbelieving.
Valentino stared at the empty space where you’d been, cigarette frozen halfway to his lips.
“…So,” Vox said finally, his voice warping through static. “What the fuck was that.”
Val blew out smoke. “Tell me I did not just get upstaged by a deer with a wedding ring.”
Velvette tilted her head. “Wait. Wait. HOLD UP.”
She jabbed a finger dramatically into the air.
“Did he just imply…that angel cupcake is his wife?”
Vox’s screen fuzzed violently.
His camera zoomed on nothing.
“His…what?”
“His WIFE,” Velvette repeated loudly. “You heard him. ‘My darling’ this, ‘my love’ that. I thought they were doing a bit. Like…murder foreplay.”
Valentino squinted. “You’re tellin’ me that thing?”, he gestured in the vague direction you’d vanished, “that thing that looked like it should be on a church ceiling…chose HIM?”
Vox leaned back, eyes narrowing behind digital static.
“Absolutely not.”
He paused.
Then, slowly…a horrific grin crept across his screen.
“Oh, I’m calling it now.”
Val turned toward him. “Calling what?”
“That it’s a cover.”
Velvette snorted. “A cover for what??”
“For something way worse,” he replied. His voice dropped, smooth like an ominous late-night TV broadcast.
“Think about it. Alastor doesn’t do soft. He doesn’t do vulnerability. He doesn’t even do friendship. So why marry a literal angel-coded doll?”
Velvette crossed her arms. “Because he’s insane?”
Vox’s cameras shifted erratically.
“No. Because she’s something else.”
Val leaned in. “Like…what?”
Vox’s screen flickered with nightmare imagery for just a second.
“Something ancient. Something he found. Something he made a deal with.”
Velvette grimaced. “Ew. Don’t romanticize it.”
“And you didn’t see how calm she was?” Vox continued. “Not scared. Not confused. Not disgusted. As if she knew exactly what he was and… liked it.”
Valentino shuddered. “That’s worse than if she didn’t.”
Silence hung.
“…I don’t like it,” Velvette muttered.
Vox smiled wider.
“Neither do I.”
Meanwhile, back at the Hazbin Hotel…
The atmosphere was…feral.
Angel Dust was on the floor laughing himself sick.
“NO, BUT SERIOUSLY,” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. “I was expecting, like, some demonic banshee with seven eyes and a blood fetish, not a literal heavenly marshmallow.”
Charlie blinked.
“She seemed…so sweet.”
“Right??” Angel rolled onto his back. “That’s what scares me! Nobody that nice is married to Alastor without losing at least three marbles.”
Vaggie crossed her arms. “Maybe she sees good in him.”
Charlie frowned. “That’s not naughty talk. That’s just mean.”
Husk, who had been nursing his drink in silence and steadily losing patience, slammed the glass down.
“Okay. Enough.”
They all paused.
Then Angel smirked. “Aww, Husk, are you jealous?”
Husk scowled. “No. I’m annoyed.”
“Same thing,” Angel sing-songed.
“No,” Husk growled, lighting another cigarette. “You idiots just don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Everyone blinked.
Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “You do?”
Husk exhaled smoke slowly.
“…I know someone who does.”
Angel froze.
“…No.”
Charlie’s eyes lit up. “You don’t mean...”
“Yes, I do.” Husk stood. “I’m calling Mimzy.”
When Mimzy strutted in a half hour later, the energy shifted immediately.
She looked around the lobby, glittering dress swaying, lipstick perfect.
“Well, well, well! Now why am I being summoned to this emotional circus, hm? What’d he do now?”
“Start a sitcom with his lost wife who looks like an actual angel,” Angel said. “Talk.”
Mimzy’s smile slipped.
“You really didn’t know?”
Charlie swallowed.
“You knew them?”
“…I knew him,” she corrected.
“And I knew her. But separately.”
Vaggie frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Mimzy rested her elbows on the bar.
“They kept their private life private.”
Angel scoffed.
“That sounds like Alastor.”
“He didn’t bring her around,” Mimzy said. “Not because he didn’t love her, because he loved her too much.”
The room went quiet.
“She didn’t mix with his world,” Mimzy continued, softer now.
“She had her own life. Normal one. Church on Sundays. Neighbors. Little routines.”
Charlie whispered, “She never knew?”
Mimzy shook her head slowly.
“No,” she said. “He never let her see that part of him.”
Angel shifted uncomfortably.
“But she found out after, right?”
Mimzy exhaled.
“The police told her.”
Everyone stilled.
“He’d been…suspected. Sort of. For years,” she said, voice lower. “But they never had proof. Not until the night he died out in the woods.”
Charlie’s fingers curled in her skirt.
“So when he was found…”
“They finally connected everything.”
Angel murmured,
“And she found out her husband wasn’t just a charming radio host.”
Mimzy nodded.
“She found out he was a monster in the eyes of the world.”
Husk looked down.
“And in her eyes?”
Mimzy closed her eyes for a second.
“She never publicly defended him,” she said.
“Never excused it.”
A pause.
“But she never trashed his name either.”
Angel glanced up.
“She just took the hit?”
“She took the shame,” Mimzy corrected.
“And the whispers. And the looks. And the way people stopped bringing their kids near her house.”
Charlie’s voice softened.
“Alone.”
Mimzy nodded.
“He died thinking she’d go to heaven,” she said.
“And she died with the world thinking she was married to the devil.”
"Which makes it all…”
Mimzy’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling, toward his room.
“…real poetic, don’t it?”
That after all that silence. All that misunderstanding. All that distance carved by secrets and death…In Hell of all places…They finally stand in the same room again.
Cannibal Town looked like a grotesque children's book.
Everything had teeth and manners at the same time.
The streets were spotless. The buildings, antique and delicate. Paper lanterns swayed above cobblestone as though Hell had decided to play civilization just to see if anyone would believe it.
You walked close to Alastor’s side, instinctively, though he never asked you to.
His shadow stretched alongside yours, taller, warped with antlers and static, but you recognized him anyway. You recognized the way he walked, too, like he was attending a formal event instead of entering the one district in Hell where the polite folk catalogued their meals.
“This place is…cleaner than I expected,” you murmured.
He chuckled under his breath, low and radio-soft.
“A mark of proper etiquette, my dear. Even monsters have standards.”
His smile widened.
“Especially me.”
He had brought you here on purpose. You felt it in his posture.
Rosie was waiting. Standing outside her shop like someone expecting a friend for tea.
Her gaze found you immediately, sharp and warm in a way that felt unsettlingly sincere.
“Well I’ll be damned,” she said sweetly. “He wasn’t exaggerating.”
You stiffened slightly.
“Rosie,” Alastor greeted politely. “You’re radiant as always.”
She waved a hand.
“Flattery after the dead won’t buy you anything, sweetheart.”
Her eyes moved back to you.
“But she…now that’s a surprise gift.”
You swallowed.
“Hello,” you said carefully.
Rosie’s smile softened.
“Oh honey,” she drawled, stepping forward. “You don’t look like you belong down here at all.”
Alastor’s hand, warm and gentle, found the small of your back.
“She doesn’t,” he replied simply.
He spoke to her for a while after that.
About territory. About safety. About her people keeping certain types away from you.
Rosie’s eyes gleamed.
“Oh don’t worry,” she said smoothly. “Around here, sugar, we take care of our own, friends of friends even more so.”
Later, when he guided you down a quieter street, away from ears and smiling teeth, he leaned closer to you.
His voice softened.
“Listen to me, dear.”
You nodded.
“If you ever find yourself in trouble…” he continued.
“If I’m unreachable…or delayed…or busy dismantling someone who deserves it…”
“…You come here.”
He gestured subtly, not dramatic.
“You go to Rosie. She will shelter you.”
You frowned.
“You trust her that much?”
His smile thinned.
“I trust her interests align with mine.”
A pause.
“But there is one rule you must never break.”
You looked up at him.
“Never make a deal with her,” he said quietly.
“Or anyone else, for that matter.”
His tone shifted. Sharper.
“Not for safety. Not for comfort. Not for protection.”
You hesitated.
“Even if I’m scared?”
His gaze darkened in a way that wasn’t theatrical.
Serious.
“Especially if you’re scared.”
The static in his voice faded.
“These people barter souls like currency,” he murmured. “They smile while doing it. And once you sign…”
His thumb brushed your wrist where a heartbeat used to be.
“You’re not you anymore. Not even the broken version of you.”
He swallowed once.
“I won’t have that happen to you.”
You exhaled.
His eyes lingered on your wings then, folding, shifting nervously.
“And if anyone tries to make you feel like you should sell yourself to survive…”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“…You come home to me instead.”
Part 3
a/n: I guess this will be series? Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.
SOOO, can i request a one shot Alastor x reader in a non-established relationship but they have known each other for a while now! I WANT TOUCHED STARVED ALASTOR SO BAD YOU CANT IMAGINE. and the reader's personality something akin to Charlie's, hehe. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!
────۶ৎ special treatment
or... alastor allowing ONLY one demon in hell to put her hands on him whenever, wheverer, unasked. and wanting that whenever wherever to be now and here !!
warnings : nothing!!
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: ... LOVE HIMMMMMM. Also, I changed the bit about reader matching Charlie's personality just a little, she shares the same traits but she's depicted to have died around the same time as Rosie (and being friends with her) so it's just Charlie if she were a little bit more old fashioned!!<33
The air in Cannibal Town was particularly thick with the scent of roasting sinner and perfumed smoke, but for the first time in a week, it felt… empty. A week. It had been a full seven days since you’d last seen your Alastor. He’d sent a brief, crackling message via a minor imp, assuring you and Rosie he was "perfectly fine, merely orchestrating a new, delightful symphony of chaos," but you knew him better. The news of the Extermination, of Adam's attack, had reached you, and the silence that followed was deafening. Rosie had shrugged, sipping her tea. "He's licking his wounds, darling. You know how he gets. His pride is more bruised than his body."
But you were not Rosie. The maternal knot in your chest had tightened with each passing day. Your darling boy was hurt, and he was hiding. That simply would not do.
So, you decided to pay a visit. A surprise. He so loved dramatic entrances, and you supposed this was your version of one.
The Happy Hotel—no, the Hazbin Hotel, he’d renamed it—was… gaudy. The stark, cheerful red and white was a violent assault on the senses compared to the muted, Victorian elegance of your Emporium. You smoothed down your own tasteful, dark gown, adjusted your gloves, and approached the grand, heavy door. You knocked, the sound polite and precise.
The door swung open to reveal the Princess of Hell herself, Charlie Morningstar. Her face, initially bright and hopeful, shifted to a flicker of confusion, then dawning recognition, and finally, sheer, unadulterated shock.
"Oh! Oh, my goodness! Hello!" she stammered, her eyes wide. "You're… you're from Cannibal Town. You're Alastor's friend!"
You offered her your most beatific, gentle smile. "Indeed, I am. It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly, my dear Princess. I've heard so many wonderful things about your project." You didn't extend a hand; you knew your touch was reserved for those you considered yours. "I have heard such wonderful things about your endeavor. I must say, the ambition is quite... breathtaking."
"Really? You think so?" Charlie beamed, practically vibrating. "Most people just laugh or, you know, try to kill us. You're the first Overlord who hasn't said anything mean about it!"
"Why on earth would I? It is a fascinating social experiment," you replied sweetly. "Now, forgive my imposition, but I was hoping to pay a surprise visit to my dearest Alastor. Would you be a darling and fetch him for me?"
Your voice was like warm honey, sweet and cloying, and it seemed to disarm her completely. Here was one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell, a being who should, by all accounts, be dripping with condescension or malice towards her "naive" endeavor, and you were being… lovely. Polite. Unthreatening.
"Of-of course! Yes! Right away! Please, come in, make yourself at home!" she chirped, ushering you inside with frantic, enthusiastic gestures. "I'll go get him! He's in his radio tower! Vaggie! We have a guest!"
You stepped into the lobby, your eyes taking in the chaotic, garish decor with a well-practiced, internal sigh. So much potential, so little taste. Your gaze quickly found the bar, and the familiar, perpetually grumpy face of the cat demon behind it.
You glided over, the sound of your heels muffled by the garish carpet. "Husker, my dear," you greeted, a genuine smile touching your lips. "It's been too long. You're looking well."
Husk looked up from the glass he was polishing, his golden eyes narrowing before softening a fraction. He gave a gruff, noncommittal grunt. "You. Should've known the fancy china would show up eventually. What brings you into this circus? Don't tell me you actually buy into this redemption shit."
You let out a soft, musical laugh, leaning slightly against the bar. "Oh, heavens no, my dear. I am far too old and set in my wicked ways for such fantasies. I find my current state of damnation quite agreeable. No, I'm simply here to see my beloved Alastor. I've missed him."
Husk snorted, pouring you a glass of a deep, crimson wine without you having to ask. He knew your preference. "Of course you are. He's been a special kind of prickly this week. Makes sense now. He's been deprived of his…" he waved a paw in your general direction, "…fussing."
Before you could reply, a new, silken voice purred from your other side. "Well, well, what do we have here? A new face, and such a classy one~"
You turned to see Angel Dust leaning against the bar, giving you a slow, appraising look from head to toe. "A real lady. You know, I've always had a thing for a proper dame. Bet you'd make a hell of a mommy." He winked, the implication heavy and lewd.
You didn't flinch. Even though you had lived through times far more repressed, you were utterly unflappable by such brazen flirtation. You simply took a sip of your wine, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Why, thank you, my dear boy. That's a rather creative compliment. Though I fear I'd be far more interested in baking you a pie than whatever it is you're imagining." Your tone was light, harmless, as you turned back to Husk with a conspiratorial little smile.
Just then, a commotion came from the staircase. Charlie was hurrying down, followed by a concerned-looking Vaggie. And then, behind them, he appeared.
Alastor stood at the top of the stairs, his posture rigid, his microphone staff in hand. He was looking down into the lobby, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed squarely on you. His smile was in place, but it was tight, strained. You could see the faint, almost imperceptible tension around his eyes, the slight pallor to his normally vibrant demonic skin. He was hurt. He was exhausted.
And then he saw you.
His eyes widened a fraction. The rigid posture melted for a single, unguarded second. In a blink, in a burst of static and shadow, he was no longer on the stairs.
He was right there.
Not a few feet away. Not at a polite distance. He had teleported directly to your side, so close that the fabric of his coat brushed against your arm. The scent of ozone, old radio tubes, and faint, coppery blood filled your senses.
The entire lobby fell silent. Charlie froze mid-step. Vaggie's hand flew to her spear. Angel's jaw went slack.
You, however, simply turned your head and looked up at him, your expression softening into one of pure, unadulterated affection. "There you are, my dearest," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, meant only for him.
You reached up without a moment's hesitation, your gloved hands going first to his bow tie, which was, as you suspected, a millimeter off-center. You gently straightened it, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. "My, don't you look handsome," you cooed, your touch moving to his lapels, smoothing them down. "But you've lost weight. Haven't you been eating properly?"
Alastor didn't move. He didn't flinch. He didn't emit a single crackle of warning static. He leaned into your touch, his eyes sliding half-shut for a blissful second. A low, contented hum, like a tuned radio finding its perfect frequency, vibrated deep in his chest.
"Your concern is, as always, unnecessary, but… noted, my dear," he said, his voice a warm, clean baritone, utterly devoid of its usual menacing filter. He was preening. His shoulders went back, his smile becoming less of a weapon and more of a genuine, smug expression of possession and pleasure. He looked like the proudest, most spoiled cat in all of creation.
Charlie made a small, choked sound. Vaggie's eye was twitching. Angel whispered, "No fuckin' way."
Husk, from behind the bar, let out a long, weary sigh and poured himself a much stronger drink. "Here we go," he grumbled to no one in particular.
Alastor's head snapped towards him, the smile never slipping. "Quiet, you," he said, his voice a sharp, staticky crackle, before immediately turning back to you, the sound softening back into a hum.
You were now gently fussing with his hair, tucking a stray crimson strand back into place. "A week is far too long, my beloved. You mustn't shut us out like that. Rosie and I were so worried."
Alastor's hand came up, not to stop you, but to rest possessively on your upper back, his long, sharp fingers splayed. It was a clear, physical claim. Mine. "My apologies. Affairs here have been… demanding," he said, his gaze never leaving your face, drinking in the sight of you as if he were a man in a desert and you were an oasis.
"It's the touching," Angel stage-whispered to Vaggie. "He's lettin' her touch him! He almost took my head off when I patted his shoulder once!"
"Shut it, Angel," Alastor said, his voice gaining a sliver of its usual sharpness, though it was undermined by the way he was now subtly leaning his head towards your continuing ministrations.
"I didn't say nothin'!"
Alastor rolled his eyes, before turning his full attention back to you, the sharpness melting away instantly. "To what do I owe the immense pleasure of your visit, my dear? I hope Cannibal Town hasn't fallen into disarray without my… occasional oversight."
"Oh, hush, you dramatic thing," you chided gently, finally finishing your fussing and patting his chest. "I simply missed you. And I wanted to see this hotel you've been pouring all your energy into. It's… very bright."
Your hand moved from his hair to cup his cheek for a fleeting moment. He pressed into it, a barely perceptible movement, but you felt it.
The stunned silence from the others was a palpable force. Charlie looked like she was witnessing a miracle. Vaggie looked like she was questioning her entire understanding of reality. "Is… is he snuggling?" she hissed to her girlfriend.
Husk didn't even look up from his glass. "You get used to it. Or you go insane. Pick one."
He was completely taken aback when he heard his pettite belle say she wants to see his big form up close. He knew it was monstrous, ugly and terrifying. Why in the world would she want to see it? He was thinking of the worst case scenario, that she'd want to see it ahead of time for when he loses control and goes on a rampage...
But it was not like that. You were staring at him with big sparkly eyes, practically begging like a child in a candy store. You wanted to see his antlers, you said.
He was very suspicious. No soul had even gotten close to touching his antlers... And he was sure your grabby little hands would be all over them.
But unfortunately for him, he loved you. And Charlie has been yapping on and on about how relationships require trust. So he obliged.
He turned, crouched before the bed in his bedroom, his form morphing into something red and gigantic. His antlers span for meters, his body barely fitting inside the bedroom. When he looked at you, he expected you to be terrified - to regret your decision. But no, you were much more insane than he gave you credit for. You were admiring him.
Your pretty sparkly eyes roamed all over his antlers, his body and locked with his eyes. You reached out to take his gigantic face in your hands - god, he was huge. You were the size of a puppy to him. But you still held him, gently, with admiration. His dead heart thumped, his grin widening before you. He made a pleasant sound at your touch, almost wanting to nuzzle into you. But he stopped himself. He didn't want to hurt you.
"Can I touch your antlers?" You asked him softly, and he found it impossible to refuze. You always asked for consent when it came to parts of his body that weren't considered "easy access". And he appreciated that about you.
"You can, mon coeur."
You were a little girl scout on an expedition. You were exploring. His antlers were as big as tree branches, and their surface was rough and hard, similar to wood, but different.
"Can you feel me?" You asked him, in a soft, lost whisper. You were very absorbed in his antlers.
"I can, darling. Although not directly... It's somewhat like touching a nail, you see. I am aware your hands are there. "
You hummed in response, continuing to run your fingers back and forth on the length of his antlers, grasping the ends tightly in your hands. He was patient, bowing before you and allowing you to satisfy your curiosity. Before he could even register, you placed a kiss to the top of his head. It was such a tiny sensation... Like the tickle of an ant. But he felt it, and he loved it.
You climbed off the bed, suddenly. He somewhat straightened (as much as the ceiling allowed) and watched you patiently, with curiosity. Then, you did something which took his breath away.
You tried your hardest to wrap your tiny little arms around his huge torso, in a hug.
His fingers twitched, and he stared at them - big, clawed - an appendage made to kill. He wanted to hug you back, but goddamn it. You were so tiny and fragile.
The blood rushed to his head as you nuzzled your face into his belly. It was all you could reach, after all.
Damned be everything, he thought.
His fingers were as big as your head. And yet, with most caution as he could muster, he held your back with them.
"You're so big and warm..." You sighed out, trying to tighten your grip on him.
You were turning the Radio Demon into your teddy bear.
"Is that so, my love?" He teased, running just one single finger down the expanse of your back. It made you shiver lightly. You hummed.
"I wish I could sleep like this, enveloped in your big body... So warm..."
Before you even knew it, your feet were off the ground. He was holding you in just one hand, as he settled himself on the bed. He was comically large for it. His legs were bent and the knees and completely off the bed. He placed you on top of his torso, enveloping your body with both his hands. Suddenly, the world turned into the most pleasant furnace. There was warmth radiating from his chest, and his fingers were like a blanket over you.
With one simple snap of his fingers, the radio began playing the most soft jazz you've ever heard.
"What my darling wants, she gets." He whispered to you, the words vibrating in his chest under you. His breathing was rocking you up and down, and it was extremely soothing. Your whole nervous system calmed.
"It's like I could disappear from the world for a little while... Hide away in your embrace." You took a second before speaking again, two busy nuzzling against him like a kitten. "Where it's warm and safe..."
He hoped you didn't hear his breath getting stuck in his throat.
"I'll keep you safe, mon coeur..."
... even if it kills me. That would be the second part he wasn't brave enough to say out loud. He found it hilarious how his actions were so goddamn vulnerable for you - but his words lagged behind.
Alas, he promised to do it again for you. Whenever you wanted, as long as it wasn't a nightly thing. (It was extremely uncomfortable for him to stay like that for a long time, his back was killing him and he wouldn't admit it out of pride.) And sometimes, when Hell had pushed all your buttons and you were having a terrible day - angry, exhausted, overwhelmed - he would turn for you without a word and offer you his body as a personal heated couch. No complaints. No words.
Just silent protection.
Should I be insane enough to make nsfw version of this? You tell me
Synopsis: Alastor has a staring problem, to which his wife responds by kissing him
TW: n/a
A/N: Getting my 8th tattoo tomorrow:3 I’m so excited!!
Masterlist
The Hazbin Hotel had been quiet for once. Charlie wasn't passionately singing her heart out, Vaggie wasn't being bossy, and neither Husk or Angel Dust were causing a scene (though that was more something that Angel Dust did). Maybe it was due to the weather outside—dreary with scream rain.
But for the first time in weeks, the hotel was peaceful.
Peaceful enough that Alastor could rest in one of the armchairs in his room, posture perfect as ever, with one leg crossed over the other. Across from him sat his wife, a bundle of yarn beside her as she crocheted something.
Alastor silently watched from where he sat.
She had been his wife long before Hell—before becoming a demon with antlers and bloodcurdling radio shows. She had known him when he was still just a man in tailored suits and a voice people trusted far too easily.
She loved him then, and somehow, she still loved him now.
"You're not very subtle, my love," Y/N mused, a smile on her face as she continued her craft. "You've been staring at me for quite some time now."
"I most certainly have not," Alastor countered.
Finally, Y/N raised her head. "You're doing that thing again."
"What 'thing?'" He wondered.
"The thing where you pretend you aren't looking at me," she smiled. She set aside her little project and tilted her head slightly. "There's no reason to be shy with me, Al. We're married after all!"
"I assure you, my dear, if I wished to look at you openly, I would do so without shame."
"Mhm." Y/N hummed as she got from her spot and padded across the room toward him. She lifted one of her knees, placing it between his thighs but careful not to touch him as she looked down at him. "And yet, I don't believe you."
Alastor's gaze briefly flickered to the knee she had placed between his legs, then back up to her face. His smile sharpened, though there was something amused beneath it.
"My dear, you are making a rather bold assumption."
Y/N leaned in closer, hands braced on the arms of his chair. "And what would that assumption be, my love?"
"That I am in any way affected by your position."
Y/N laughed, cheeks flushed but not embarrassment. But with a memory. "I recall trying this on you before, expecting to get my way when we were alive. But you put me in my place so easily. It was rather embarrassing for me."
Her smile softened ever so slightly, still recalling a past where she was alive with the love of her life by her side.
"You always did. You never raised your voice or hurt me," she added. "You just looked at me. I remember thinking it was unfair that all my friends got to indulge, but my husband and I didn't." She softly laughed again, although there was a distant undertone of something hurting. "My husband would have rather buried a body than follow societal norms."
Y/N hadn't removed her knee, but her posture did straighten some. "My friends would often complain or praise their sex life, and I'd just nod along. When they would corner me, I'd have to make up some excuse—a lie that would get them to stop talking about it."
Then, her eyes widened, flush appearing on her cheeks as she pulled away from him. "I shouldn't be talking about this with you. It must make you very uncomfortable. I was just reminiscing. I apologize, Alastor."
Alastor raised one of his hands and grabbed her wrist to prevent her from retreating further. "Y/N, I am not uncomfortable."
Slowly, Y/N turned to face him again as he let go of her.
"You are allowed to reminisce. You don't need to apologize to your husband for being honest."
Uncertainty lingered in Y/N's eyes as she replied, "I know how you feel about certain topics. Intimate and indulgent acts is one of those things. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable...to overstep, even if by accident."
"You would be correct." Alastor agreed, "there are some subjects I find to be tiresome. Crude. Entirely overemphasized by society's obsession with indulgence. You, however," he gently raised her chin, "are my wife. And if we are being honest, I'm sure if it was a bigger problem than you let on, then our marriage would have not survived."
That earned a soft huff of laughter from her.
"You have never overstepped by simply hoping or wishing. You have respected my boundaries at every moment."
Y/N flushed at his words. It wasn't often that Alastor would say such kind words to her or anyone, but every time he did, it never failed to make her heart flutter.
"Then, may I kiss you?"
"Pardon?"
"A kiss." She repeated, "something to ease my heart."
The room seemed to hold its breath and fill with the soft noise of static.
"You are aware that my tolerance to such displays are limited, yes?"
"I know. It's why I'm asking."
After a short moment, he simply sighed. "Very well."
Y/N leaned forward again, gently cupping his cheeks which caused the static to abruptly end and his ears to flicker. Then, she placed a soft kiss just beside his permeant smile.
And when she pulled away, she thanked him.
"You do not need to thank me every time, my dear." Alastor admitted, his grin softening at the edges.
"Old habits." She shrugged, "they're not ones to die easily."
