The dynamic between you and Vox had certainly shifted since your first "I love you" 's were exchanged. The once "no strings attached" hooking up had ended, instead replaced by a passionate romance between the two of you.
He'd take any opportunity to sweet talk you, hold you, steal kisses—even if it was in public. Vox didn't even care who saw anymore, what the other overlords and influences said about him dating his assistant.
Things between you were still pretty hot and heavy. At work, he'd whisper naughty things to you in that sultry, raspy voice that always got him into your pants. Whether it was in his penthouse, office— hell, you even got away with fucking on the roof of the V Tower!
But, the sex wasn't the same as before. Despite whatever kinky shit you're doing together, there's an undercurrent of strong, tender, affection for one another. It's not directly out there, but you can feel it:
His hand on your back, supporting you and rubbing patterns on you for comfort. The little thing's he'd whisper in your ear as you were close:
"You're doing so well"
"Can you come for me, sweetheart?"
"I've got you"
After, he'd hold you close to him and make sure the two of you are cleaned up. Sometimes, he'd even join you in the bath or shower (you didn't know he could take a bath since, well, he has a tv for a head). It was all just, perfect.
But.
One matter still remained. Your contract. As much as you loved Vox, it didn't feel right to still have your soul in his hands.
__
Today, you're currently at work organizing Vox's schedule when you receive a text from Vox:
Vox: Meet me in my office in 5, please.
4:30 pm
You: Okay 🩵
You finish up your task and ride the elevator up to his personal office. Walking in, you see Vox sprawled laying on his desk with his jacket and vest off, his dress shirt unbuttoned down to his pecs. A bright red rose was held by his sharp teeth, his eyebrows wiggling up and down at you as you walk in further.
You chuckle and gesture to the decorated space— candles were lit, rose petals were scattered about, and an ice bucket with an expensive bottle of Champagne and two glasses were beside him on the desk. "What's all this for?".
He says something unintelligible and muffled behind the rose, eliciting a confused look from you, "Huh?". He groans and spits the rose out onto the desk, regaining his confident smirk as he looks back up at you, "It's for you, babe.".
"Oh! Aw," you smile and pick up the rose that was formerly between his lips and bring it to your nose, taking in the fresh scent of the flower, "this is so cute!". "Yeah, I know," he says with a smug tone. You exhale and roll your eyes, though a small smile stretches your lips.
Vox sits up and pops open the champagne, pouring the foaming liquid into two glasses, handing one out to you. You clink your glasses together.
"To us"
"To us!" you echo before taking a swig of the fizzy liquid. Vox takes a small sip, his eyes glued to your bobbing throat as you swallow. He sets the glass down and folds his hands in his lap, a hopeful look on his face, "So, I was hoping to ask you something—".
"Ah, there's the catch," you set the glass down and meet his gaze. "No catch, just a question," He grabs your hand and holds it tightly, "We've been enjoying each other's company for awhile now and it's been great! But... I'd like to make us official.".
You raise an eyebrow as he continues, "So, be my girlfriend, sweetheart.". You pause for a moment, and then speak, "... I want out of my contract first". Vox furrows his brows and lets go of your hand, "What? Why?".
"It just would be weird to date someone who owns my soul," you explain. He scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, "Oh what? You think this was an elaborate scheme to abuse my power over you?".
"No, Vox I—"
"No! I fucking get it, you want out so you can leave me," he accuses, "the minute I fucking trust someone again—". "Vox!" you interrupt his accusatory spiral, "I'm not going to leave! I just want my soul back, is that too fucking hard to do?".
Vox looks to the side, averting his gaze away from you, responding to you with silence. You exhale sharply and turn on your heel, "Fine.". As you walk away, Vox grabs your hand, "You know I love you, right?".
"Sure, Vox" you say coldly before snatching your hand back to your side and walking out.
___
Vox had retreated to an aquarium-esque room, more specifically, the top of Shock.wav's tank. He took off his shoes and socks, rolling up his pant legs so that he could sit on the edge and dangle his legs in.
He sighed and leaned over, propping his head up on his hand. As much as he wanted to believe you, wanted to let his hopes override his judgement— he just couldn't. The last time that he did that it didn't go so well.
Of course he wasn't going to hold his power over your head, but it made him feel secure. It made him feel in control, even as his feelings for you made him feel out of control.
He watches as a dark silhouette grows larger in the tank, revealing the large techy-shark demon. Vox smiles and stretches his hand out to boop shock.wav's camera looking nose.
"Hello my precious boy!" he coos, "who's my best demon shark? You are!". He smiles softly and sighs.
He needed to make things right with you. Even if it could cost him everything.
__
"Miss y/n?" one of Vox's other employees says as he approaches you, "Mr. Vox wants to see you in his office.". "Uh, why?" you ask, still a little pissed off at him from your last interaction.
"Uh, he didn't say," the demon says before leaving abruptly. "Alright then?" you roll your eyes and make your way to Vox's office slowly with non-urgency.
You walk in and sit across from him at his desk, crossing your arms over your chest. Vox sits with his elbows laying on the desk covering his mouth, a contemplative expression on his face.
"Thank you for coming to see me, Miss y/n," he says. "Alright," you say, a bit confused about his formal name for you. "I've been thinking and, while you're an incredible employee, I think it's time we discuss your contract," he digs through a file cabinet in his desk drawer and pulls out your contract.
"There is a small error in your contract," he points to one of the clauses with a sharp pointed claw, "right here, there is typo.". The word in question, "circumstance", had been spelt "circumstunce" on the paper— though the small hint of white-out told you it wasn't there before. What was he planning?
"You see, this nullifies the contract and I'm afraid I'll have to let you go until we can sort this out," he says casually. Your eyes dart between him and the contract, a smile spreading across your face.
He clears his throat at your silence, "Do you see what I did th—". Before he can respond you leap over the desk and onto his lap, tackling him to the floor taking the chair down with him.
You pepper his screen in kisses, "Thankyouthankyouthankyouu!!!". He smiles and wraps his arms around you, "Alright, sweetheart, calm down.". You bury your head into the crook of his neck and hug him, "Seriously, thank you.".
He sits up with you attached to him, "C'mon, there's still one more thing I wanna do.". He grabs your hand and the contract, leading you up somewhere out of his office.
He takes you to the top of shock.wav's tank and stops right at the edge. "You gonna push me in?" you joke. He hands you the contract, "I might.". As you take the contract in your hands, Vox calls over shock.wav, "Din din, shocky!".
He gestures for you to toss the contract in the water and you do so. The stapled papers float on the surface of the water before slowly sinking. Suddenly, shock.wav appears from under the paper and opens his mouth. He shoots up out of the water, snatching the contract before retreating back into the water.
As the pages get torn to pieces, a teal chain materializes around your neck and snaps, dissipating into thin air. Vox's large hand rests on your shoulder. You turn to him and smile. "You gonna stay with me still?" he asks in a sarcastic tone, but there was some underlying doubt behind his eyes.
"If you'll have me, then yes," you say. He cups your face in his hands, "Of course I will.". You lean in and kiss him softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as every memory with him flashes before you.
Meeting him, working for him, seeing him broken in his office, the long years of anger and tension, the "business" dinner he arranged, your first time together, and the little moments you'd spent together recently as a couple
He pulls back and wipes the tears running down your cheek, "Don't get all sappy on me now. The best part hasn't even come yet!". You wipe your tears, "What do you mean?". He grabs your hand and presses a kiss to it, "Can I be your boyfriend, doll?". You nod, "Of course.".
"Good, now I can do this," he keeps your hand in his as he lowers to one knee.
"What are you—".
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small, black velvet box. Opening it, he reveals a large silver wedding band with a marquis cut sapphire in the center surrounded by smaller diamonds.
"Doll, I know things between us are complicated and haven't always been easy..." he laughs softly before continuing, "but, easy isn't exactly our forte. I would redo every moment if it meant being closer to you sooner, but I can't, so I don't want to waste another moment not being committed to you fully, by your side no matter what. So, will you do me the honor of marrying me?".
You stand there with your hand covering your mouth, in shock about the demon on his knee before you. Slowly, you nod your head. "Yes," you say breathlessly.
Vox smiles and slips the ring on your finger, marveling at the way it sparkles on you before meeting your gaze again. He stands up and lifts you up, spinning you around with a cheerful laugh.
He sets you down and kisses you deeply. When you pull back, you rest your hand against his chest, admiring the ring on your finger, "Do they even have wedding officiants in hell?".
Vox shrugs, "Doesn't matter. We'll make it work.". He leans in and rests his forehead against yours, "We always do.". "True," you remark, gazing into his eyes softly.
Without warning, he picks you up and lifts you over his shoulder. "Ah!" you yell, "what the hell?". He pats your ass and walks out of the room, "I'm taking you to celebrate, Dollface.".
End
__
OK GOODBYE TO MY BABY, MY FIRST EVER FIC AND SERIES. RIP HELP ME. ILYSM. sighh anyways guys writing this series has been so fun and I'd make it 10000 parts if i could but it reached its conclusion. I think somewhere in the near future id clean it up and re-release the fic on ao3. but yeah im just wefbhwefkwf. thank you all for supporting this series and im sad its over but hey reader and vox's journey was incredible to write and im glad i could share it with ygs. love you all!
BONUS:
"C'mon, show us the rock!" Velvette demanded. You hold out your hand to the other V members. Velvette grabs your hand, twisting and turning it, examining the ring with a critical eye.
Valentino snatches your hand from Vel, rubbing your palm and gliding his finger over the ring, "Forget the ring, you have gorgeous hands, cariño.". Velvette shrugs, "The ring is alright. Vox never had great taste but it'll do for now. It's a good place holder until I design a new one for the wedding, you will not be seen with that on your finger".
You snatch your hand back, "I like my ring! And we're having a private wedding before the big one on TV, I'm keeping my ring for that one at least".
Velvette opens her mouth to protest before Vox appears in a bolt of static, "The fuck are you two doing?".
"The ring is shit, Vox," Velvette states bluntly.
"Can I borrow her for one of my films? It'll just be the hands," Valentino adds.
"Fuck you, and absolutely not. We're leaving" He grabs your shoulders and teleports you out of there.
A collection of fics of the ship between Vox | Vincent Whittman x Alastor the Radio Host|Demon from Hazbin Hotel
Your Face was Made for Radio, but Your Heart was Made for Me by yaoicocaineaddict
Alastor hadn’t thought much of Vincent Whittman, the peppy and enthusiastic meteorologist he had run into at a bar while the younger man had been visiting New Orleans as a part of a crew reporting on a terrible storm that had happened in the state. That was until he saw Vincent again a few years later, looming over him while he was bound.
Getting kidnapped was definitely something Alastor hadn’t expected to happen to him, much less by an erratic man who clearly had a plan for him.
That plan being? Well, Alastor just has to wait and find out, unless he can escape in time, before he loses the urge to.
~~~~~~~~~
Vincent kidnaps Alastor with the intention of turning him into his wife. May or may not spiral out of control.
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Vincent Whittman/Alastor; Alastor/Vox
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Ongoing
(Couldn't) Finish Me Off by Boooghooker125
The work is still a heavy wip but:
Alastor dies in a battle he's supposed to live through, which changes everything. Alastor wakes up now stuck in the past, flipping between memories and alternate routes, until he's able to change that event to ensure the original plot continues (basically future seasons). He comes to the conclusion that to do this, he must find a route where he can kill Vox in a specific way, because clearly a simple stab to the face just keeps sending him back to the start. But once he finds himself in a route where he and Vox are still pals—more than pals—and he's part of the Vees, he finds it a bit harder to do so.
Guys, I am not good at sticking to plans. I will try to write without getting burnt out and finish this, but no promises.
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Alastor x Vox; Vox x Valentino
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Ongoing
System Overload: Radiostatic (Rewrite) by RavenDragon643
In the depths of Hell, where secrets are currency and rivalry rules, Alastor and Vox hide an astonishing truth: they are not just enemies but secretly lovers. Until Alastor became pregnant with Vox's kid. He wanted to share the news with Vox, but he overheard Vox and Valentino, believing that Vox had chosen the moth over him. Alastor spent the last seven years raising his daughter, Vinciane or Fawne, as he likes to call her. She never knew that Vox was her father, and Vox didn't know that she existed. Now here he was, with his daughter in the princess's hotel.
Oh, this will be fun.
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Alastor x Vox
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Ongoing
Avery - The Unexpected by Fallen_Moon_MN
Breaking News: A new girl, who looks very similar to the infamous Radio Demon, was spotted while walking with the devil himself. Is she his daughter? When did he have her? What happened in those seven years he absent? Why did he leave? Who is her other pare-
Vox did not take the news about his rival/long-time crush had a daughter very well. Vox needed more information, he needed answers! And who could possibly give him the answer he want than the little daughter of his rival herself?
Vox had never expect the unexpected when he kidnapped the Radio Demon's daughter.
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Alastor x Vox
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Ongoing
Alastor's guide to parenthood by Chaotic_aroace
One night Alastor gets a bit too drunk while reminiscing about his relationship with Vox
A little mishap with his powers leads to a rather unexpected outcome
Or
Alastor accidentaly makes his and Vox's baby
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Alastor x Vox; Charlie Morningstar x Vaggie
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Hiatus
Devilish Fawn by Miss_Miku
“Okay Alastor, sign here”
Alastor looked at the golden paper right in front of him. He looked up at the person who gave him the paper, the queen of hell herself, Lilith, had her icy gaze stare back at him. He looked over to the left of her, her husband and the king of hell himself, Lucifer, stared blankly at him before averting his gaze.
How the hell did he get into this mess?
Oh right, his dumbass wanted power and this seemed like a good deal at first, but the more he thought about it the more of a bad idea it seems. What is the deal you may ask?
Well, in exchange for high ranking power he would have to carry the royal heir of hell.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
So in a nutshell: Charlie is the biological daughter of Al and Luci, and a lot of shit changed in this AU.
FANDOM: Hazbin Hotel
PAIRING: Alastor x Vox; Alstor & Charlie Morningstar; Past! Alastor x Lucifer Morningstar
SITE: Archive of Our Own
STATUS: Ongoing (Slow Updates)
Criticism alert: Where do I begin, uhm...look, with the combination of Epic and Hazbin Hotel, I've had my favorites (Faberown's "Hell's Coming With Me" is one of them) and some I didn't like much (I won't give names, but I think you've seen their work). I respect each artist's vision and how they fit the music with the scenes. But if there's one thing that i don't like it, it's the "poor Sera" trope in their videos. For example, in "We'll Be Fine," they excuse Lucifer and Lilith, asking what would happen if Sera defended them (oops, it was an accident, leave them alone) when they brought it on themselves by not thinking about the consequences of giving "the forbidden fruit," and how she feels bad for them 🙄 (of course, the Morningstars are the "victims"). And then with "The Underworld," portraying the exterminations as a cruel measure against the "poor" sinners—when, out of love for Heaven, they kill and make each other suffer 364 days a year, and the series treats it as humor or something normal among them—and her acting horrified as if she hadn't given the order in the first place, and they demonize the exorcists too much for doing their job. Let's be honest, this second season was a disaster in terms of story and characters, especially Sera's character, and the most blatant abdication of responsibility I've ever seen from an army superior (who gave the order) regarding her soldiers (who obeyed), and how they excuse her actions both in Viviziepop's story and in the fan animatic. I understand that Sera might feel bad about the deaths of sinners who could be redeemed, but to leave her soldiers forgotten and resort to the most ridiculous idea to make peace, and not even call Charlie out for killing her soldiers and commanders (don't tell me it was self-defense because Charlie could have gone to the palace and asked her father for protection for her friends and those she wanted to help; there was no need to go to a battle where everyone could die). I don't hate that artist, and I don't want anyone to be rude to her, but I needed to vent my opinion. If anyone likes those animatics, I respect that, but don't expect me to like them. I understand that we don't all have the same opinion, but I ask that you be neutral in the comments. That's all, have a good night
⟢ a/n: i actually wrote half of this about 2-3 weeks ago and kinda left it to collect dust ^^, but here it is !! for my oral fixation bitches <33 i was listening to Rule 34 by Fish in a Birdcage and it was the perfect inspiration tee-hee.
summary: i don't have a quirky summary this time; you suck Al's dick lol
⟢ CW: service sub reader, cock worship (m receiving), no use of y/n, terms of endearment, praise, throat fucking, erotic asphyxiation, subspace, cumming untouched, leg/shoe humping, Al’s dick is like 9" in this one besties, reader w a long tongue.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. Thank you~
Alastor’s eyes raked over your trembling form kneeling before him with amusement and curiosity. The Radio Demon currently had you sitting on your thighs, bare from head to toe save for the green-glowing collar around your neck and the chain he currently has curled around his hand. Yet, your trembles weren’t from fear nor were you cold. No, the smell of arousal that tickled his nose is proof enough to let him know you’re the furthest thing from scared. There isn’t a sign of embarrassment or even shyness on your body as his red ruby eyes bore over every inch of your skin.
If anything, you sit with poise and elegance. Perfectly submitting to your figurative and literal place beneath him and wearing it with a straight back and puffed chest hints of pride in your position. You were writhing with anticipation; your little trembles came from the sheer excitement. You reminded him of an excited puppy, wiggling in delight, waiting to eat out of their master’s hand. Alastor couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with this little display of obedience and devotion.
He has given you simple instructions: Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to. And to your credit, you are doing just that. The twitches and shakes of arousal were somewhat out of your control. He knew you couldn’t help being a bitch in heat in his presence. Even still, you weren’t sitting still like he ordered. Your big eyes fixated on his own, waiting for your next instructions.
“Darling, what were your orders?” his velvety voice crooned, the radio filter crackling with his tone’s low notes.
You felt your eyebrow twitch and your heart pound against your ribcage. The Radio Demon doesn’t have you repeat instructions unless you missed a step or didn’t follow them correctly. Alastor is gracious enough to give you a singular chance at correcting yourself before punishment is dished out. “Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to,” speaking with an even tone, struggling to keep your voice from trembling. He gave your collar a light tug, just enough to remove slack. You audibly swallowed, feeling your chest tighten at the pull of your very soul.
“Good pet,” he purred, “So fix it.” That’s all he offered. Leaving you confused, the words echoed repeatedly in your head, trying to find the mistake. Alastor’s smile grew impossibly big as the lost expression edged into your face. He was already kind enough to give you a hint. It’s your job now to figure it out. He had time.
Meanwhile, you readjusted yourself, planting your weight further into your calves and placing your palms at ease over your thighs. You had the urge to run a thumb along your flesh soothingly, feeling your thighs shaking, so you did. And that’s when it clicked. Sit still.
You stop immediately, your body going rigid, and flick your gaze to Alastor again, who has an approving glint in his eyes. The corner of your lips twitches upwards, and your heart flutters again, this time at his silent approval.
“That’s it. Good job,” Alastor praised extending his hand towards you. You lean in immediately resting your cheek on his palm, relishing in the warmth of his captivating touch. “Come closer, dear. You’re allowed to rest your hands on my lap.”
Alastor uncrossed his legs to allow you to slot yourself between them. Still knelt, you didn’t hesitate to let your hands come up to his legs. Your hands glided across his clothed thighs with a feather-light touch before they settled at the apex of them resting them there. With his hand still on your cheek, he tilted your head back, “You’re going to service me now. I’m going to use your mouth, and you’re going to let me,” his thumb ran over your bottom lip, “Understand, little one?”
Alastor saw your eyes light up like stars; he chuckled at you. “Yes, Sir,” you responded already with a breathy voice.
“Take me out.” He ordered. Wordlessly, you look up at him again once his pants have been undone, asking for permission. He lifted his hips, allowing you to drag his pants and underwear down to pool at his ankles. Now, with his half-hard shaft resting on his hip, your mouth watered. Lust flowed through your veins like a good liquor, slowly warming you. You couldn’t help but lick your lips and bite down on your bottom lip.
Your pheromones came off you in waves, permeating the air around you both. Alastor has a sensitive nose. While he wouldn’t admit it, your arousal alone had already caused a reaction in his body. His idea was to have you work him hard, but your eager responses had already done half the job for you.
The hand on your cheek came to grab hold of the back of your head, bringing your face centimeters from his hardening cock. You could see the bead of pre-cum already forming at the tip. Making your breath hitch and swallow back a needy noise.
“Use your tongue to get me hard, pretty pet,” he instructed, “Go slow, and don’t use your hands until I let you.” You nodded, your tongue already lolling out to drag the wet muscle across the entirety of his length; tongue swirling around the tip before wrapping itself around half his cock. You used your long tongue to your advantage, using it to stroke him in long, languid pumps. Alastor sighed a hum as you worked him and your lips sucked harder on the tip before taking him further in.
Just as instructed, you went slowly. You found a pace at which you bob your head up and down taking another inch at each downward suck. Alastor rewarded you by running his long fingers through your hair and audibly low moans of your name, his grip on the chain tightening when he felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You moaned then already feeling your mouth so full but still having at least half his dick to fit down your waiting throat. Without skipping a beat you sank your lips further on his shaft without breaking eye contact. The vibration sends a delightful shiver up Alastor’s back earning you a quiet good girl.
“So eager aren’t we, love?” he twitches in your mouth, “You look so pretty with those lips stretched around me like that,” Alastor can make sinful words sound so pretty with the way he coos down at you with his transatlantic accent. The praise makes your thighs clench tightly together, your fingers digging into the meat of his thighs to resist the urge to touch yourself. This makes Alastor chuckle and use the side of his foot to tap your knees to separate them. A little whine is muffled by his length being stuffed in your mouth but you look at him pleadingly. A smug expression crosses his features as he brings a leg between yours pressing the back of his shoe against your dripping sex. “Grind. If you need touch that badly this is all you’re getting until you’ve made me cum.”
Your back arches and cheeks become increasingly hotter as the blush reaches your ears. It’s a humiliating act to dirty his shoes in such a way, yet, your hips immediately rock down bumping his leg and holding on even tighter to him. Your concentration wanes on your main task becoming sloppier, and more messy with drool dripping from the corners of your back and down the rest of his cock that isn't already inside your mouth. Moans become louder and more frequent even as your throat becomes more occupied the bigger he swelled. The smallest mercy you’re granted is your lack of a gag reflex allowing you to take him deeper with better ease but that’s being challenged by the way his cock is obstructing your breathing while Alastor is digging the top of his shoe into your puffy clit.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes struggling to keep up, vision going in and out. Both from the tears and the lack of air going into your head. But you are so set on being a good girl, you could never disappoint your master. The deer demon could see your struggle but said nothing, delighting himself in watching your eyes roll back and eyelids drooping, your grip is also beginning to slack. Alastor laughed pulling you off his cock by the phantom collar and holding your face to make you look directly at him, “Breathe; take a deep breath, my dear. You can’t pass out yet,” he said as he tapped your cheek lightly and wiped the saliva off your mouth. “Such a mess and we’ve only just gotten started.”
There are dark spots in your vision and you’re fighting to blink them away taking sharp breaths through your nose. Your mind feels foggy and a little airy already and there’s a slight ringing in your ears. “That’s it, my love, stay with me,” a warm hand delicately cradled your cheek brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “Such good girl for me.” It tickled your insides every time he spoke to you with such softness with the undertones of condescension, it brought a smile to your face to hear his acclamation of your work.
“I’ll allow you a break, use your hands,” his hand leaves your face to help you bring your trembling fingers around his pulsing hardness. He guided your hands up and down his shaft, “You know how to please me, don’t you pretty girl?” he tapped the back of his shoe against your folds again sending a jolt through your entire body making your hips buck.
“Yes, Sir, everything— anything— for you,” you pant out through little keens. So eager for your Master, the owner of your heart, mind, and soul. You were surrendered to this demon with every fiber of your being. There isn't an inch of you that doesn't belong to him. With a pleased grin he lets go of your hands allowing you to keep going on your own, your strokes remain long and languid and you can't help but let your eyes fall to watch your hands that can barely wrap around them go up and down. Alastor hisses as you tease and press into the tip to collect the bead of pre-cum that formed.
"Be careful what you wish for, little love," voice dropping ever lower to a more sensual tone, radio filter straining and crackling, "You might just get what you ask for and not realize it's more than you've bargained for." The devil danced in his eyes as he spoke leaning down to meet your gaze, your breath hitched but a mischievous grin tugged your lips to match his own.
"I can take it," you whisper, eye flicking down to his lips momentarily, "And if I can't, make me," your confidence excited him, made him crave you in sensual ways as much as you craved him. He stole your lips in an intense kiss, and your lips collided when he tugged you forward by the collar. He devours your lips like he is going to eat you whole. Your hands sped up on his cock making him moan into the kiss, noises are more than happy to swallow down greedily. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth exploring it, rubbing and pushing against your wet muscle in a sinful dance. It made you mewl back into his mouth melting into his lips.
"Let's test your resolve then, shall we?" he pulled away breathlessly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. Your head is still reeling and you barely notice the tentacles that wrap around your thighs and bring both of your hands behind your back, he removes his leg from between your legs and stands up from his chair. You look up at Alastor with falling tears already rolling down your cheeks. "Open up, ma chère," you obey without a second thought, tongue lolling out. Alastor drags his thick cock over your open lips, rubbing up and down over your warm tongue then lightly tapping his cock over your face teasingly. You pull against your restraints already missing your hands over his body.
"Beg," he orders still teasing your mouth. His smile turned right down devilish hearing moan just from his words.
"Please, Master? I need your cock in my mouth, I want it so bad," big doe eyes looked at him with tears, "Let me have your cock down my pretty throat," you say with desperation batting your lashes and opening your mouth wider. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. Let me service you. I want to make you feel good," you lean to press your cheek against his pelvis cock hanging right in front of you but didn't dare lick or kiss just yet, not before giving you explicit permission.
Without another word, he cradles your face letting go of the chain, collar disappearing completely when he did so, and shoving his cock into your mouth in one go. He groaned demonically when your throat constricted around him. There's still a good inch or two of him you hadn't managed to fit in yet, "Make me, you said, mon ange?" your eyes widen from both fear and excitement. Adrenaline pumped rapidly through your veins as you held his gaze, heart beat like a drum against your ribcage in anticipation. Alastor almost looked apologetic as he pulled out to the tip slowly, teasingly then held both sides of your head to thrust into your mouth. Radio static buzzes through the air and his eyes flash radio dials.
"Ḿ̶̛̲̩͓̤̗̘͒͊̌e̷̟̼̳̼̭̿̾͋͒̐̿͌r̵̥͔͈͉̤͝d̴̯̞̙͚͆͗̈̋̔͘̕e̴̥͉̦̒̓͒̇̊̒͜͝ͅ," he cursed quietly, one hand tightening on your hair making you wince. The first thrust is nearly successful and he holds you there for a few long moments letting you adjust. One of his hands slides down to press the bulge that his cock is making in your throat and gently caressing it. He's so fucking big in your mouth and so long you doubted you'd be able to take all of him. More tears stream down your face quickly running out of air as he holds you down. "So close, almost there, my dear. L̸͕̔e̷̦̕t̸̮̏'̴̹͝s̵̠͂ ̴͜͠t̴̙͗r̴̘̽ÿ̶͙́ ̷̱̆ȁ̵̭g̷̨̈́a̷̧̎i̵̝̐ñ̴̻." Once again he pulled out but didn't give you time to breathe barely sneaking in one deep gasp.
He thrusts harshly into the heat of your mouth, pushing your head down in the process this time. You yelp and moan as your nose graces the tuff or coarse hair at the base of his length, writhing and squirming Alastor bows and arches his back over you, "So t̸̜͐ĭ̴̹g̶̹͌h̶̯͐t̴̟͝ ̸͔̏ã̶͍n̶̥̑d̸̢̈ ̴̦͑ẉ̷̐a̷̢̛r̵̼͆m̸̧̾, you're perfect." his voice is rough and the radio filter keeps switching in and out. The radio demon sets a brutal pace fucking into you, "Keep those pretty lips open, dear." Alastor gives you no mercy not letting you breathe between thrusts. Soon you're feeling woozy, your jaw slacking allowing Alastor to slide in and out more easily.
"That's it, you're mine. Aren't you, sweet thing? All mine," words coming out between pants and moans, "Let go, forget everything outside of these four walls and sounder to me, my dear." Your moans die at your throat completely muffled by this cock. As the seconds pass you feel less and less present laying yourself at his hands. No more coherent thoughts form in your brain, he relishes the way your body shakes and how your eyes roll back every time he bottoms out. You can tell the lack of air is getting to you; you feel faint, your jaw hurts, your chest feels tight, and your knees are possibly bruising but all your thoughts are of Alastor and the way he's ravishing you. How much do you enjoy being used as his little cock-sleeve. You gladly take anything he gives you with no questions asked, and he knows that too.
He only slows down when he feels his orgasm build and coil, so he removes himself from your mouth. You gasp so desperately that you're wheezing to let air into your burning lungs. Shadows dance across the walls and floor seemly also pleased with your performance. "Such a good girl, you know how to please your master." There's adoration behind those words and you feel elated. A rush of euphoria zooms across your body, and whines bubble up in your chest but only come out as broken sobs.
"You've trained me so well, Sir, only for you," your voice is scratchy and barely audible from the abuse to your vocal cords yet you still have stamina to keep going. Deposite the fact that there’s a buzzing in your head and the ringing in your ears has only gotten louder and you’re incapable of thinking outside of sucking off Alastor you’re ready to swallow him down again. Even through the ache that has settled in your body from being forced into a single position for such a long time you’re impatiently waiting to get face fucked again. Your cheeks sting slightly from the tears too, as a few more stays roll down the redden skin.
“You want more, don’t you?” Alastor pets the top of your hair softly, you nod tiredly. “You deserve a reward for such a wonderful performance, come here sweetheart,” his tentacles release their hold on you finally letting you touch him again. Immediately your hand comes up to grab a hold of his hips caressing and appreciating the soft short fur. Alastor guided his cock back into your waiting mouth immediately sinking in with a moan of your name. You brace yourself with hands on his thighs for his brutal pace and relaxing your jaw as much as you can for him. Just being used for his own pleasure brought you to such heights of ecstasy you’re able to get off in it, he didn’t even need to touch you.
The familiar coil in your abdomen tightens as the sounds pour off his lips and his fat cock slides in and out of your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin and nice pressing against his pelvis. “So close, darling, you’ll get your reward soon,” his radio filter glitches out. Once again his shadows grow taller, antlers extend and his smile strains as he takes harsh breaths in through his nose. He moans loudly through gritted teeth, thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier. It’s hard to say if you’re still breathing properly by the time you feel Alastor’s warm cum pouring into your throat. Alastor with his hand cradling the back of your head pushes himself all the way inside your mouth as he fills you up. Your whole body twitches and you choke a moan when your orgasm hit you right after his. Your juices make a puddle on the floor and cover your thighs.
He’s still coming but you’ve run out of breath before he pulls out, your vision blacks out and your limp body slumps against his legs. Alastor picks you up bridal style and pressures you close to him, still catching his breath. “You did so good my doe, so perfect,” he whispered next to your ear and murmuring small apologies for overexerting you. He’d worry about the mess on the floor later, so he carried you to the bathroom on the other side of his bedroom, nudging the ajar door open. Without letting you out of his embrace he lets water run into the bath, littering your cheek and forehead with kisses while waiting for the tub to fill up.
It’s not long after that you finally come back to, slowly, groggily and already in the warm water while Alastor has your back resting against his chest. You slowly blink the drowsiness from your eyes, too tired to move your body, you accept the fact you probably blacked out, it’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“Are you alright, my dear?” Alastor asked softly, arms sliding under the wanted to wrap around your middle. He rested shit chin on your shoulder snuggling closer to you. Endearing how gentle he is after sex; the harder he is on you the sweeter the aftercare.
“My jaw aches, my knees hurt,” your voice comes out huskier than usual, “My voice is going to be fucked for a few days. But… I’m more than satisfied,” you turn your head to lay a sweet kiss on his lips. “Let’s get washed up so we can go to bed. I’m exhausted after our little tryst,” you giggle pressing your forehead to his, he chuckles along with you sharing a little intimate moment and a few more kisses before actually getting clean and stepping out of the shower to retire to bed, nice and warm cuddled and tangled up in each other as lovers do.
It's inspired by Living Tombstone's song Alastor's Game!
CW: Reader is a cannibal and it's a p big part of the story so mentions and details of cannibalistic intent and murder
♡♡♡
Some people just don't belong in Hell. The structure of divine judgment must be rigged, punishing any poor soul who commits sin without realizing it. Those individuals don't belong.
Then there are those who do. Those who realize there's an afterlife and instantly come to terms with their placement. That's when all the Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell for this jokes start to bite back.
It's always easier for those who choose to be sinners to adapt to Hell's settings. The job market for porn stars and actors is extensive, and protection is almost guaranteed despite the souls owed or deals made.
But, what interested you the most, you depraved sinner you, was the loveliness of Cannibal Town. Not only was it the nicest part of Pentagram City, but you felt right at home considering your appetite when you were living.
It was immense. Some kind of craving that you could never satisfy, no matter how many callers you invited into your home and how many of them never left. You got creative, playing with recipes, spices, and cooking methods, but it was never, never, enough.
Sometimes, you'd wonder how you got to this point. You were a normal enough kid, went to school, had a nuclear home life, and you were comfortable financially, the works.
You remember it feeling like a stomach ache.
A stomach ache that brought you to tears and kept you from school some days. You almost assumed it was something every child went through until you learned what subdued the pain.
Meat.
It was the solution. You ate like a carnivore at first, then the food became increasingly rare as you aged up. Until you stumbled upon some strange forums online (There's something online for everyone, I suppose). You gave in to the cryptid suggestions. You tried rodents at first, only after thorough mental and food preparation, but fuck did it do the job. It made your body shutter and your mind hazy, momentarily melting any thoughts of guilt you might still have.
As time went on, you grew hungrier. Animals weren't cutting it.. but maybe he could.
You found him online, chatted for a while over some messenger, then discovered how much of a dirtbag he truly was. That seemed to disarm you from the whole idea.
Poor thing.
Maybe if he was kind enough, he would have been spared.
You invited him over.
As you watch him approach your door, you tussle your hair, and adjust your clothes that leave little to the imagination. With a continuous, you can do this, you can do this, you're drawn to the knocking of the door.
"Damn, babe, if I knew you actually looked like this, I would've come over sooner." He props his arm on the doorframe as he speaks.
Is.. is that supposed to be a compliment?
Your eye only twitches a bit before you cover your expression with a cute giggle. Holding your hands behind your back, you lean forward.
"Not too bad yourself, big guy. How's a movie sound?"
One thing leads to another, you're seated on your couch, and his hands are immediately on you. For someone who acts so big and tough, his touch is awkward and uncomfortable. Like he doesn't know what he's doing.. probably because he doesn't know what he's doing.
The inexperience helps.
You didn't take into account how large he was. Assuming this would go as planned, you'd be set for weeks, but the actual action of getting him down still worries you.
You're barely an hour into the movie, which you can hardly remember, before his sloppy lips are on yours, which you respond to with a grimace. He doesn't seem to take into account your reactions, grunting against your very unresponsive lips.
Disgusting.
Pig.
He places a large hand on your waist, pulling you roughly to him.
Strong.
Muscular.
You need more. You need to evaluate your prey. You place your hand on his wrist, delicately running your fingers up the entirety of his forearm, tracing and digging into each vein and muscle you can find. That continues up to his chest. Before long, you find yourself straddling him, his wide hips forcing your legs apart a decent amount. Despite his build, his composure clearly shows he's nearly at your mercy. While you're running your hands along his body continuously, occasionally kissing him or letting out fake moans to his ear, you're feeling his ever-growing length pressing into your leg.
You'd be disgusted by the sensation if you weren't planning your next move internally.
You hid weapons everywhere. If you remember correctly, there should be a knife sitting in the crevice between the couch’s armrest and the side table. You just have to reach -
"Take this off." You command with a breathy voice, tugging at his t-shirt that had some unknown stain on it. You almost regret putting so much effort into your appearance.
Oh, well. You're taking notes in the back of your mind for any future endeavors.
You guide his desperate hands to pull the shirt over his head. In one movement, you drop the shirt and take the hidden knife into your hand. You hadn't realized until just now, but -
You're shaking.
You let out a deep breath. With your arms reaching over the arm of the couch, you're essentially caging him in. Nothing looks suspicious yet. Not to him, at least.
You lean in to give him one final kiss. You aren't exactly sure why. It's not doing anything for you. Maybe some sort of sympathy is crossing your mind?
… You'll have to work on that.
You pull away slowly, giving yourself time to examine the state he's in. His eyes are glazed over, his breath shallow.
Now.
Do it now.
You're ready. You've studied anatomy, disarmed yourself to the idea, and prepared for the worst.
You have to do it now.
You straighten your back, the knife now visible to him. He doesn't seem to notice at first until your arms are in the air, hoping to find some momentum in the stab. With your eyes still open, you find the spot where it should end this without too much pain for either party. You dive as fast as you can, but you made a fatal error.
You shut your eyes.
The moment was immediately silenced by the tension of his hand fisting the blade of the knife. He caught it. He stopped it just before it could pierce his chest, only bleeding from his palm. You both sit silently, in disbelief, perhaps.
A silent curse slips from your lips, and that seems to snap him back to this failure of a hook-up.
"You fucking psychopath!" He screeches. He stands, effectively throwing you off his lap as he does so. The action forces a small yelp out of you, and your grip on the knife is immediately taken from you. You stare up at him from the ground.
The tables seem to have turned. He's looking down at you, stumbling and struggling to find his grounding, all the while holding the knife. Despite this, despite his large build and his newfound advantage, he bolts for the door.
Was this better than him attacking you? Will he go to the police? You almost hope he's fragile enough to not admit he was attacked by a frail creature, or that he'll use this as a story to brag to his friends over, I escaped a psycho bitch last night.
You start cursing again. They become more frantic and louder as you follow him out. You watch him stumble off your patio and back to his car. You manage to find reality when a previous thought hits you.
You hid weapons everywhere.
A shotgun sits by your front door. It wasn't the most hidden, but in your defense, it was dark enough outside that it went unnoticed. And you're in a rural enough area that some wouldn't bat an eye at the sight of it.
With shaky hands, you pick it up, already loaded, and aim it at him. He's already in the driver's seat, but you're too exposed to let him just drive off at this point.
You didn't really know much about guns. But in an emergency such as this, it seemed like it would come in handy. So when you took your shot, you never considered the consequences of shooting bullets at a running car, especially with your poor aim.
You come to moments later, fire and pieces of metal surround you. You try to take in your surroundings, but your ears are ringing, and your senses are overwhelmed by the severe burns covering most of your body. You manage to find your home, still mostly intact. The car, on the other hand, is completely decimated.
In the corner of your eye, you think you can spot some resemblance of your date sprawled along the asphalt. With a heavy breath, which you consider might be your last, you let your head drop onto the pavement.
-
"My my, what a predicament you've got yourself into!"
A voice?
It echoes through your head. You can still only see the crackling of the fire surrounding you, and your ears still ring, but the voice seems clear as day. There's a bit of a static to it, but still it's clearnes startles you. You attempt to respond through the pain.
"W-Who-"
"Save your strength, my dear. I'll be quick since it seems you won't be with us much longer." The voice says. You can hear footsteps, a clear clicking of heels that echo in this ethereal space you find yourself. You struggle to lift your head, only catching a glimpse of the stranger kneeling in front of you.
"I'll clean up this little mess of yours, and we can discuss my repayment once you're in less of a.. scorched state. Deal?"
How could you consider the consequences? Or even comprehend his words while you’re like this? You aren't sure what he means, and you have no time to question. Your consciousness seems to be honing in on the burns.
You let out a horrific scream, clutching your arms, only intensifies the pain. If you could see the stranger, you'd see a disturbingly unphased smile.
"Help me - H-Help me! Please!" You beg and cry out, finally reaching out your hand to him.
"So? Do we have a deal?"
"Deal - Deal! Fuck- I-It hurts..!" You sob, biting your blood-dampened lip to prevent any more screams.
He takes your hand, gripping onto the raw skin of your burns. Your next scream comes out silently. You feel your vision blur before your body finally comes to terms with its seemingly sealed fate.
-
You shoot up from your bed, your face running with tears. They feel cool, running down your heated cheeks. You quickly wipe your face, leaving a wet smudge of makeup and sweat across your fingers.
Right.. make-up from the date.
You scan your bed, no man in sight. It’s a relief to wake up in your bed alone. Shifting out from under the covers, you look to your hands, waving them in front of your eyes and running your hands across your own skin.
Smooth.
Maybe even softer than you remember previously.
Some sort of calming amenity seems to be sweeping over your body. With glazed eyes, you examine your body that should be severely burned, yet you feel nothing.
Still, in a state of shock, you rise and wrap yourself in your blanket before leaving your bedroom looking a mess. You roam your home, looking around with still-damp eyes. You feel like a tourist. Like none of this is yours.
Not anymore.
You find yourself standing by your front door, opening it without hesitation. It's a clear sunny day. The grass is just as green, if not greener, and there were flowers there that you don't recall ever planting.
Suddenly, your bare feet against the heated pavement sends a slight panic through you, as the more gruesome details of the previous night conjured in your mind.
That's why nothing looks right. You were sure your porch was blackened by the fire. The grass was a flame, and there was a car - and that man and the voice -
You approach where his car was parked, only to find a torn-up strip of rubber, assumingly from its tire.
"What the.." unable to even complete a thought, a familiar voice only brings up more questions.
"Ah, my apologies! I assure you it is quite out of character for me to miss a spot." You see a disturbingly tall figure come from behind, swooping down to pick up the rubber scrap. He examines it within his red talons, turning it back and forth. You stand dumbfounded, but he goes on anyway.
"So, what exactly caused your date to ..implode? Was he not to your liking? Too handsy? Too-"
...
You're too tired for this.
You rub the sleep from your eyes, turning on your heels and letting the blanket drag across the rugged pavement behind you as you head back inside. You almost expect some sort of resistance from him, a qwip on how rude it is to walk off in the middle of a conversation, but there is none. Maybe you just imagined that little interaction. Maybe there wasn't really anyone there, and you're still tired or still sleeping.
You open the door, and that same bright smile greets you from inside your own home.
That seems to wake you up.
Your wide eyes scan his face, then peek inside your home behind him. You turn back around to see where he previously was, and obviously there's no sign of his travels. You slowly turn back.
"May I speak now?" His voice is laced with a radio filter, and it hits your ears in the strangest way. The reality of the situation turns your exhaustion into apprehension, yet you nod your head anyway.
"I may have caught you in the midst of your disarray, but I must admit, I'm curious about what led to it." He steps aside and gestures for you to come inside. To your own house.
"H-He got the upper hand is all." You decide not to comment, moving inside sluggishly. As far as you know, this strange being has no idea of the sins you've committed. You quickly fib.
"He attacked me, actually."
"Oh, how devastating!" He lets out a saddened sigh, a hand over his heart with fake sympathy. "Now, was that before or after you attempted to drive a knife through his chest?"
With a defeated groan, you flop onto the couch.
"What are you? A sleep paralysis demon? A.. nightmare? Am I still asleep?" You grumble, running the possibilities out loud and not expecting a true answer. You actually hoped that it would all go away. That this voice in your head, this hallucination, is just that.
In your head.
"Ooh, I like the sound of that.. A nightmare~ has a nice ring to it wouldn't you say?" He stands in front of you, his hands folded formally behind his back.
"Now. Enough with the compliments. What truly happened, my dear?” When his voice suddenly turns sympathetic, you find yourself actually in need of someone to vent to.
“Well, since you're clearly just a nightmare - or.. something - ” You sit up, take in a deep breath, and with its release, you reveal yourself.
All of you.
Every single animal you've killed to curb your pain, what seems to work and what doesn't, and the previous nights failure. You talk about the number of friends and family you've scared off throughout the years, everything.
“I.. was gonna eat.. him…” You squeak out your final sentence. You've never really said it out loud before. And never in front of someone else. It made your own blood run cold. Not the thought of the act itself, but just sharing it aloud. your eyes stay fixed on your fidgeting hands in your lap when a loud cackle interrupts your anxiousness.
“My word, aren’t you just the cutest basket case? You're lucky to be dealing with a demon of similar tastes.” He hisses his final words, all with a sly smile. He sounds prideful in his admission. His words seem like they're meant to disarm you, and even though he essentially admitted to being a cannibalistic demon, it works.
“Well.. since we have sooo much in common-” Your voice drags, the notion of being similar to this demon feeling strange to mention out loud, “-would you.. help me? With all this..?”
Expecting another laugh, maybe some more teasing, you're met with a confusing expression. His smile is still there, unmoving, but you catch the smallest twinkle in his eye. He stands and faces away. The hope of finding an outlet for your cannibalistic intent starts to dwindle.
Your misplaced disappointment is overtaken by the flickering of lights and the soft tunes of a radio nearby, one that you recognized but were sure had been broken for decades. He turns his head unnaturally, looking over his shoulder to meet you with blackened eyes.
“I would be absolutely delighted.”
-
“Lucky for you, some of your late-night delivery seemed to withstand the flames!”
You follow that transatlantic accent to your kitchen, unamused by his continuous puns and casual speech. This big scary demon friend of yours presents a commically large plate, with a very familiar carcass sitting atop.
He did nothing to make it look any less disturbing than it truly was. the skin was nearly burned off, the smell was just awful, and the shirt was somehow still recognizable through it all.
You cover your mouth in response. The fact that it doesn't smell much different than some of the other carnivorous meals you’ve prepared nauseates you more than the sight of the corpse itself.
“Quite a specimen, very good choice! But, you needed tips, correct?”
All you can think of to respond is a simple nod of your head.
“Then let's get started!” With a snap of his clawed fingers, a sleek black apron covers his suit.
The next few hours were grueling, but.. fun? If you're allowed to call it that. You were given multiple pointers, and sure, they were all quite helpful, but they were in excruciating detail. What certain parts of the body you should pick or avoid was one thing, but discussing what wine pairs with what organs? It's not a conversation you ever thought you'd have.
By the time the meal looks normal, all decorated with spices in a baking pan and in the oven, you instinctively go to do dishes. As you fill the sink and start bringing things over, a little creature has you nearly tripping. You look down, seeing a strange little stitched doll carrying most of the dishes to the sink. No matter how strange it looked, you respond with a curious hum, fully desensitized to it at this point.
“Huh..” is all you can say. You take any remaining dishes and follow suit, plopping it all into the water. The little doll seems to be tugging at your leg when you try to walk off. It's holding its arms up to you, letting out little murmurs that sound restrained by the stitches across its mouth. You hesitate at first, but scoop it up in your arms and place it aside the sink. And it gets to work scrubbing away.
“Damn, you're cute, and you clean? Can I keep you?” You ask it quietly, giving it a quick pat on the head. It seems to smile.
“Quite a delightful little thing, one of my better creations, I must admit.” The response from him seems to scare the poor thing straight. It immediately lowers its head and focuses on cleaning. You scoff at the interaction between the two. if his own toy is scared of him, should you be as well? “That being said, I simply can not part with it. My apologies.”
“Oh, I was kidding. Mostly.” You reply quietly. You hear the first chuckle from him that seems genuine. No ill intent, just a joyous response to your little quip. It felt kinda.. Nice.
-
“So, Mr. Scary Demon Man-” You clear your throat before you speak. “-why are you here, exactly? did I do something to summon you? Or-” He cocks his head to the side at the title, a little twitch to his eye.
“Not at all, my dear. I simply wanted to help you in your little endeavors, from one cannibal to another, Haha!” His tone goes back to that of a salesman. Like he’s trying to convince you he’s something he’s not.
“Well.. thank you, I guess. I don't really understand why you’d want to help me without wanting something in return, though. You don't seem like-”
“-A charitable man? I suppose that’s fair.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. “If you’re so desperate to return the favor, why don’t we strike a deal? Just a little one. Between friends.”
You weren’t stupid. His words made it clear that this was his intention from the moment he chose to save your life. You shrunk a bit.
“Sure, between friends.” You let out a sigh, your somewhat chipper attitude immediately fading. He takes no time to be empathetic.
“Good! Now, you seem to have an eye for food. This meal was ideal considering your poor execution.” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling. “And you can’t get meals quite like this where I’m from. How about you keep providing, with my assistance, and I’ll make sure it’s prepared to the best of my abilities. In exchange for all my hard and generous work, I get half the spoils! Seems far more favorable on your end, but I’m feeling rather generous today.”
Where he’s from? You want to question it. You want to know more about him, you want to know -
“What’s your name?” Your sudden questioning leaves him speechless for a moment, but he’s quick to recover his charming smile. “You never told me.”
“Well, considering you won’t need my name if you don’t agree to this little game, how about I throw that in as well? You provide the living flesh, and I’ll handle the rest. And, you’ll get my name.” He stands before you, a bit too close for your comfort, as he reaches his hand out to you. “Call it a deal?”
An ominous green glow surrounds the two of you. It sends some kind of wind through your clothes and hair. His hand is especially bright, and his eyes go back to that frightening black that you experienced previously.
At the end of the day, if this is what you have to do to stifle those damned pains, it doesn't seem all that bad. You extend your hand, instinctively flinching at the seemingly impending danger. But that still doesn't stop you.
“O-Okay.. Deal.” With the touch of his palm against yours, the glow flashes, forcing your body to tense and your eyes to squeeze shut. It only lasts for a moment, though. When you open your eyes, you first examine your connected hands. His hand is huge compared to yours. From this proximity, you can truly take in how unnaturally tall he is.
Attempting to tug your hand back, his grip tightens, forcing your hand to his lips for a quick kiss to your knuckles. An outdated and surprisingly intimate action leaves you a bit flustered.
“My name is Alastor. It’s been a pleasure, my dear~”
-
And so, your transactional deal went on, right until your demise. You used a similar tactic to bring more meals to your doorstep, finding a handful of poor saps online. You weren’t exactly sure what he meant when he offered his assistance, but when the time came, a strength took over your body that you never experienced before. There were no more shaky hands or sympathy. Your aim was always true, and it was just so easy. Any impending dangers or possible retaliations were alerted to you by a subtle whisper, a voice, coming from just behind you. It was startling at first, but quickly became a comfort.
When it came to preparing the food, which Alastor said he’d handle, you’d essentially leave your victim's remains in the kitchen and would come back to a meal ready for the oven. Sometimes, you’d leave the body as is, limp on the couch, or sprawled on the floor, only when you were too exhausted to deal with the clean-up. On nights like that, you’d wake up to a completed meal the next morning. You liked to picture him going through your home, rolling up his sleeves and wearing that apron, cleaning things up, and cooking in your kitchen how he did that first night.
That being said, you didn't normally see his physical form. There was the lent strength and whispers during your hunts, but other than that, contact seemed to nearly cease. Why was that upsetting you? You cursed yourself for being too much of a romantic - for making this seem like anything more than a delusion you conjured up to make this whole action easier for you.
And that pain? That constant hunger that was never sufficed nearly went away. In fact, you’ve never felt fuller.
He did return on especially rare occasions. You never complained, and you attempted to hide your excitement when you'd catch him lurking in the corner of your eye.
Sometimes, it was to cook for you again. Despite the deal being in full swing, you would ask him to show you some of the recipes. Normally, it would just appear, looking delicious and homemade as always, yet you still pestered him to show you how to prepare some things. He always acted burdened by it, but seeing him cooking felt.. Domestic. Like, when he was cooking, he was truly in his element. It made it easy to forget what he was, which you found yourself questioning less and less. It simply didn't matter anymore.
One particular visit was late into the night. He actually woke you up from the racket, which had never happened before. Stumbling out of your bed, expecting to see police raiding your home or something worse, you’re instead met with a swaying radio demon and a shattered vase. Whenever he was around, soft music would play from your busted radio, a contrasting notion to the fumbling man in front of you now.
“Alastor?” You call out, a wave of relief hitting you and bringing the baseball bat from your hands to the floor. “What the hell are you doing? It’s like.. three in the morning..” The realization of the time makes the previous adrenaline seep out of you.
“Ha-ha! Isn’t that an interesting concept? The Devil’s Hour. Throw some religious implications, and it drives people mad! In reality, it’s just when your feeble body is at its most vulnerable.” He rambles on, spilling the drink from his bottle as he exaggerates his actions. He walks to you as he goes on, his body still swaying. “When your little fragile human heart reaches its lowest speed. When waking you would cause.. distress.” He goes on, his words suddenly sounding melancholic.
“Your breathing is erratic.” He adds, staring intensely at your heaving chest. “And you are hot to the touch-” The back of his claws trace the apple of your cheek, where even you can feel the heat radiating from your skin. Because his voice has no filter. You’ve never heard it like that before. You’ve never heard him sound so human.
His hand traces down your face to press against your chest. He’s feeling your heart. And it’s beating erratically.
“Your heart is fast. Are you distressed?” He leans in closer, to the point where you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Do I make you distressed?”
In a flustered panic, you push him away. His closeness, his touch, it all threw you off guard.
“N-no, I’m just tired. You woke me up in the middle of the night, asshole.” You cross your arms over your chest, watching him laugh and struggle to find his bearings after being shoved. With a groan, you pull him by his slender arm over to the couch. He sits down with a thud, and you sit a careful distance next to him.
“That is what is so refreshing about you, my dear.” He lets out a dreamy sigh, and you pull the whiskey from his hand before he can break anything else. “Why - you have no idea who you’re dealing with, I could be a powerful demon overlord,” He slurs his words. “But, to you, I’m just your sweet radio demon~” He sings out.
Alastor leans into you, uncharacteristically tapping your nose. You swat his hand away, forcing another loud chuckle from him. He stays leaning forward, even seated beside you, he towers over you. Your wide eyes meet his.
“Even your eyes show no sign of fear. How curious.” You stay like this a little longer. His breath still reeks of expensive whiskey, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from him. You’re terribly focused on keeping your distance, but he doesn't seem to have the same concern.
With a sly smile, he removes his coat and flips to his back, laying his head in your lap. With his long legs crossed over each other and hanging very much off the couch, you’re almost nervous to touch him. He wasn’t especially touchy, only doing so when necessary; fingers brushing against fingers, a hand on the shoulder for a mere second- why can you remember each moment so vividly? Why is it so fresh in your mind?
“Alastor, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home? or.. wherever you are when you're not here?” That’s still something you’ve questioned. You weren’t one to pester him so insistently, wery on losing the good thing you have going on.
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure! Be careful with your alcohol, my dear! Ha-haa!” He slurs out with a grin. “I suppose.. I prefer to be here.”
“What? Why? If you’re some powerful overlord, don’t you have somewhere better to be getting sloshed?” You scoff, keeping your eyes away from his head that was still perched comfortably in your lap. He seems to even nuzzle into your thighs a bit, and it only flushes you more. You take an unpermitted swig of his confiscated drink.
“Hm! Well, I can’t exactly get meat this fresh in Hell-” He taps his chin in thought to your rhetorical question that clearly went right over his head. “-besides! It’s not nearly as nice without you.” He sounds so matter of fact, so sure of his words. You hold your breath, suddenly reliving every moment together before this.
You’d chat and joke around in the kitchen, but you’ve really learned more about him than you thought. How he sews together those strange little creatures. And he seems so proud of them, despite their clear fear of his presence. You noticed he always puts some sort of spice in the meals he cooks, and that even if it's too much, you eat it anyway. How he simply hates getting dirty despite his occupation. He rolls up his sleeves, has that dumb apron, and uses those little toys of his to keep clean.
You loved it.
You’ve done nothing but enjoy every moment with him. You don’t need to know what he is to know that.
Wait, did he say Hell?
“You’re from Hell? There’s a Hell??” With a more shocked exclamation than feared, you finally look down at him. He’s too far gone, humming along to the music, he barely hears your questions. With a clearly defeated sigh, you brush his hair from his face. He winces from the action, his smile wavering but not breaking under your touch.
“Ah, I wish I knew how you survive this cozy little life.” His voice is quiet and mumbled.
You.
I can live this way because of you.
He manages to finish off the bottle with one more swig - when did he take that back?
Your thoughts begin to wander, absent-mindedly twirling strands of hair through your fingers, raking your fingers down his scalp, only to startle yourself with the sensation of animalistic ears. And they’re twitching. Whether it be your reaction or his, it seems to force a little yelp from you, so you reel your hand away.
“I didn’t mean to alarm you, darling.. Could you - or.. You can.. Continue. If you’d like.” His voice had dropped that strange filter again. You feel woozy. That whiskey you had shared, maybe it was strong. Or.. it was the middle of the night, you were sure you were just tired. You spiraled to come up with any reasonable excuse other than developing feelings for a Hellbound demon. You wonder if you-
Oh, you’re definitely going to Hell.
But, could it be something to look forward to?
Your intimate thoughts cloud your mind, leaving your hand mindlessly petting a literal demon. Your fingers combed through his hair, delicately clawing up the ears and pinching the softness at the tip of each one. Despite your thorough and elaborate massage, your mind has wandered to how a relationship with a possible hallucination of a demon would work out. But that's ridiculous, isn’t it?
“Alastor, can I ask you-” your words are brought to a halt and your eyes drop. A quiet hum of satisfaction, leaving a barely conscious radio demon, who’s head still sat in your lap. With a curse under your breath you decide you're trapped.
There was absolutely no chance of escape. What, were you supposed to wake him? What if you upset a powerful overlord demon, or whatever he claimed to be? Albeit uncomfortable, you force yourself to sleep. Enjoy it while you can, who knows if it's even real?
You didn't see him for awhile after that.
-
Alastor was a poinient man. He never missed a pick up before. So when you realized the meat you've portioned off for him was still sitting in your fridge, you start to worry. You're not exactly sure why, you’ve pushed any and every intimate thought from your mind.
This is purely transactional.
Even though his portion had gone untouched for a few days.. A few weeks, if you really think about it, you already had a date set with another victim.
It went on as usual. A dumb hunk of meat thinks he’s all that until you’re straddling him. You decide to stick to what you know works; a knife to the heart.
You mapped exactly where to plant it, as he fiddles with your top, and with a raised arm, you go to claim your next victim.
There was no warning.
There was supposed to be a warning.
The next thing you know, you're pinned to the floor, your wrist being gripped so tightly you have no other option than to scream and lose your grip on the knife.
Your date took no time. No hesitation.
The last thing you see is the opposing view. A stranger straddling your body with a knife held high above his head.
It seems so quiet.
And it's awful.
Where was the warning?
If anything, you should've at least heard Alastor's voice telling you how to avoid this. You always do. A slight pang of worry hits you, but it's quickly overtaken by anger.
With a final yelp that's fueled with frustration, hurt, and a broken heart, you met your demise quickly and alone.
By the time you've come to, you're surrounded by a handful of black eyed children. You immediately scramble backward, hitting your back against a brick wall. You’d notice your surroundings if these little scavengers werent eyeing you with an innocent curioustity. You let out a hiss, holding a hand over your eye. A streak of blackened blood comes from it, your palm thoroughly stained with it.
“You must be new~”
“You’re very handsome!”
“How did you die?”
A bombard of tiny voices and questions go straight over your head, a ringing in your ears forcing your mind to go hazy.
“Alright, give ‘em some space, kids!” A sweet voice seems to bring you back. You look down to your seated body. Your skin is a deathly gray, and your top is stained with your own blood. It’s still red. “Don’t overwhelm the poor thing, I’m sure they’re quite shaken!”
Your eyes then trace up the silhouette of a vintage looking entourage, then to a sharp-toothed smile. The woman stands before you, a hand held out to you.
Her eyes are just as black and her skin is just as pale as those children that now whisper and giggle to eachother nearby.
It didn’t take you long to realize your misfortune.
You died.
You’re upset sure, but you find that you’re mostly angry. None of this wouldve happened if you- if he-
“Come on, cutie! Let’s get you cleaned up.” Her considerate smile clears your mind almost immediately. You don’t hesitate accepting her assistance.
-
“He was supposed to help me. He said he would be there for me! I died because of him..!”
A strained smile and a quick nod is the only response you get to your angered rambling. The kind face that scooped you off the streets was Rosie, one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, who just so happens to own most the souls in Cannibal town.
Lucky you.
She did exactly as she said, having her fun and playing a bit of dress up with you. It wasn't exactly your style, but there were more concerning things when it came to your appearance. Your eyes were just as black as Rosie’s. As those children who have been following you around.. In fact, most residents of cannibal town had this feature.
You really are in Hell.
Right where you belong.
Right along side people who are just like you. It almost felt.. Comfortable.
You confided in her, going on and on about some jerk of a demon who broke a promise that cost you your life. How he had been helping you in fights, saved your life a number of times, taught you how to cook, showed up drunk to simply sit in your lap, then just fucking disapeared when you needed him most. Your face was turning red, from anger or the way you gushed about him, Rosie couldn’t quite decipher.
What wasn’t comfortable was the period clothing you were put in. But according to Rosie, it’s Perfect! What a doll!
“Is Alastor. The radio demon?” She completes your sentence with a sigh, standing to tower over you and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I hate to break it to you, hun, but no one’s seen him in quite a while.. If i’m being entirely honest with you, he’s a dear friend of mine.” You instantly tense at her words. You just went on a rant about how shitty he was, only to find out he’s disapeared with no explanation. Maybe it was a good reason. A good enough reason to leverage your own life? You aren’t sure.
“I have to find him!” You finally say, as if a lightbulb switched in your head. He seemed so unattainable all these years, but now? You’re in his house. “Miss Rosie! Can you help me? His name-”
“I can’t say he didn’t wrong you, but he’s a man of his word, hun.. If he’s not holding up his promises, then he might be in some real trouble.. ” You hear her voice crack, yet she doesn't let her smile drop.
Another factor to consider that Alastor might have bitten more than he can chew, yet she still sympathises with you. You nearly knock the wind out of her with your arms encircling her small waist. Your head rests just at her chest. You can’t see her face, but her arms are around you almost instantly.
-
As you got settled in town, you did actually use the skills that Alastor had taught you throughout your lifetime. You understood why he made your previous deal. Demon flesh was just fine, but you really needed to spice it up to be anything special. And even then, it still couldn't compare to fresh, living, meat.
You started off just making and baking your own food. Then, when one cannibalistic child asked to try some, they told their friends, who told others.
After a while, you were cooking for half the town. You had a line every morning out of your own home. Once Rosie took notice, it was time for you to make a deal.
“Why can’t I sign a contract with you? You’ve done so much for me, I trust you with my soul.” You had taken Rosie out for dinner, where you planned to discuss a potential deal. Even with you barely being in Hell for a year, you heard plenty about Extermination Day, contracts, dealing in souls, all of it. You did your research. You talked to some of the townsfolks and saw no real downside in giving your soul away. Your proposal seems to surprise her, though.
“You still have your soul? Didn’t you make a deal with Alastor?” She asks, quieting her voice when she says his name, as if just the sound of it would make you upset. It only makes your eye twitch, though, just at the thought of the whole ordeal.
“I did, but he didn't say anything about my soul.. Was he.. Supposed to take it?” You question.
“Well.. he’s made deals like that before, favors for favors, right?” You nod. “But to go all the way to Earth just for some food? That’s.. Not like him…” Rosie seems to be lost in thought, trying to piece together his intentions. You clear your throat, and attempt to calmly bring her back. You slide a tupperware container of lady fingers you had made just before this.
“I want a restaurant, Rosie. I’ve been keeping an eye on that abandoned shop in the town square. I can feed everyone in town if you’ll let me. And.. protection, of course. Would that work?”
She opens the box with a sparkle in her black eyes, almost immediately popping one of the delicate treats to her lips. With a hum of satisfaction and a snap of her fingers, the glowing golden paper floats in front of your eyes.
“It’s a deal, darling!”
-
You could barely call it a restaurant at first, but you were elated. Rosie granted you some extra hands to make deliveries and assist in the kitchen. Everything seemed to be going your way. Your first extermination day went by quickly. For some reason, angels weren’t destroying everything in town. And you and your little shop were both safe, untouched, really.
You had a steady job, loving customers, and a residency near the center of town. You were almost surprised how having a shared interest, in eating human flesh, can bring people together. And after just a few years, you had a community.
You had a family.
Something you never really though you’d have, in life or death; A home.
Things were going so well. This was supposed to be your happy ending. It had been a few years since you had signed the contract, and you still feel satisfied with your decision. You could really be yourself here.
In Cannibal Town.
In Hell.
It made you laugh sometimes, how much joy the underworld brought you.
On a say that seemed like any other, you had sold out your stock for the day early, and went on to send the rest of yout employees home, when you heard a ruckus near the gazebo.
The screech of a microphone, and a very distant agitated Susan, is all you can truly hear from where you are. You drop everything to join the crowd.
It was the princess of Hell.. You weren’t one to keep up with politics or media, there was no need for you. You entertained yourself plenty just by residing in town. But, you managed to hear her blow up before being dragged away. A tall, rugged figure takes their place, ready to entertain the crowd while the Princess gathered herself.
“Come one, come all! While our little princess is collecting herself, who would appreciate a quick song, hm?”
“There is no fucking way..” You mutter to no one but yourself.
Alastor.
He holds his hand up to his ear, waiting patiently for the adoring crowd to praise his presence before he went on. You knew Rosie was a friend of his, he was a cannibal afterall, but for the entire town to love him just as much? Including Susan?
It’s absurd.
He went on to perform some showtune, one that sounded familiar to you. The crowd excitedly surrounds the pavilion, dragging you nearly to the front. You held a look of disgust. A look of betrayal.
You didnt want to see him, you told yourself. Things were perfect as is, you felt no need to repair a relationship with your imaginary friend you conjured up while alive.
Although, you never thought you had to. He had been gone for years, he nearly became just a passing thought.
An unreasonable part of you stayed put. A part of you wants him to see you and recognize you, to remember what he had forgotten. You stood with your arms crossed, your heart beating rapidly just at the sight of him.
He looks entirely the same, completely unphased. You’ve changed so much visually, and you’re happier now. Bolder. You’re not shying down now.
He catches your eyes.
The music screeches to a halt, sounding like a record player needle dragging across the disc. You’re holding back a smile, almost proud that you were able to stop him in his tracks. This had to be the first time he’s thought of you in over seven years.
And stops singing.
Lucky for him, the princess is finally ready to make her own point. You stick around, not exactly paying attention to her lyrics. You keep your face of disdain strong, stepping away and flinching at any advance Alastor would make to reel in the crowd. He seems to distract himself just fine until Charlie whisks away the crowd. Again, you're firmly planted in your spot.
Alastor turns to you, much more apparent of who he’s dealing with now that you stand alone from the crowd. His ears are flat against his head, and his smile is turned at the corners. His eyes seem to dart back and forth as if he’s deciding whether or not to stay. To be with you.
Oh, he’s nervous.
You’ve never seen him nervous before. It feels good. You’re making the almighty Radio Demon nervous. You smile just slightly. But not a smile between old friends, but a smile in response to his realization that he fucked up.
Despite your delay, Alastor continues on with the rest of the parade. Your body immediately lost all tension once he leaves.
-
“Well, well! I knew I recognized that menu. I was ready to tear apart some poor sinner for using my recipes.” A familiar, antagonizing voice echoes throughout your little empty shop.
You turn on your heels, almost startled by the sudden intrusion.
Almost.
But, you'd be lying if you said you weren't hoping for it.
Just a little.
Of course, he'd come back. Maybe to make another lowly deal. Or to get you to do more menial tasks for him, to flaunt his power and authority.
“Yeah, well.. when you've been left for dead, and all you have is your skills, you do what you have to, to survive.” You snap, turning your back to him to continue wiping off an already spotless counter. “Plus, it never hurts to marginalize.”
“I've actually tried some of your food here.. Hm! And I hadn't the slightest idea who prepared such a meal. You've gotten better, I'll give you that! Such a small world.” He says with a nostalgic sigh. You can hear his heels clicking throughout the empty store, circling the room before eventually approaching you.
How can he speak to you like you were still.. aquitanced?
“I hope whatever kept you busy these seven years was worth my life.” You mutter. You weren't sure if you wanted him to hear that or not. Maybe if he did, he'd finally apologize or-
“Oh, it was! A nice little sabbatical is exactly what I needed.” You quickly turn to see him polishing his claws against his coat and smiling quite brightly. “I will say it is a pleasure to be meeting you here! I'm glad you settled in so easily.”
“You killed me, Alastor! You were supposed to keep me safe.. and now I'm dead! Because you disappeared without a word!” You start to scold him, finally hitting a breaking point. All he does is scoff at you.
“Oh please, I didn't even take your soul. And it's not like you'd end up anywhere else if you were to perish later on.” He speaks so casually about it all.
But, you were ready to cry. To kick and scream at his arrogance.
The feeling of sharp fingers engulfing your shoulders leaves you suddenly tense and puts your murderous thoughts on hold. He's vanished from in front of you and now looms over you, his eyes meeting yours from over your shoulder.
“Plus, you seem to be quite happy here! Why don't we just call it even then, hm?”
He can not be serious.
You pull away from him, the tears welling in your eyes finally letting loose.
“Alastor, stop!” You yelp, turning to face him. “That’s.. so unfair! You broke a promise! And you-” you hold your finger out to scold him even more, but you feel your body simply going slack. “-you hurt me.. I just.. thought that after all that time, after that night, you'd care a little more..” You look up to him, in the hopes of being met with some sort of sympathy. But his unnatural smile goes unwavering. You rub your arm awkwardly, losing your confidence as your words turn more vulnerable without your realizing.
“Oh, I can feel your pain, not to worry dear. I truly meant no harm when I couldn't hold up my end of the deal.” He's smiling and drawing out his words, only setting off a sense of unease within you. You finally let out a shaky sigh.
“With everything you've done for me.. I thought that.. you might've liked being around me…” You let out, your voice running slightly ragged from the previous shouts. “I thought we were having a good time! Then after all this?” You grow an uncertain smile.
A previous sight that made you giddy before only brings you dread now. His ears are flat, his eyes struggle to meet yours. He's losing his composure.
“I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted it to happen.” You laugh through your words, your hands raking through your hair in a stressed manner. In your little pits of passion, you don't get the chance to see his wavering smile, the grimace on his face, any of it. When your words are met with silence, though, that's when you finally look up to him.
He's nervous, again.
“Oh.. my-” your sentence barely starts before he attempts to cover his slip up.
“Now let's calm down, I really didn't mean for- I didn't intend-”
“Isn’t there rules to this? Were you ever allowed to meddle with my life in the first place - let alone - be on Earth??”
“-God! You killed me on purpose?? Just so I could come down here to do your bitch work?” You snap, your laugh becomes delirious and your tears betray the anger you're meant to be showing.
He’s scrambling for a witty reply, his expression finally showing his true intentions for the first time in a long while. He’s speechless.
“I’m such an idiot.. Of course, you never cared. Bastard.” You mumble your words to the room, losing any fear of him hearing your insults.
Your vulnerability sends a strange shiver down his spine. One he’s never felt before, one that makes his chest ache and his muscles tense.
“Well - Now, let's just talk for a moment before you-” Alastor extends his hand out to your turned back, but it never reaches you. A delicate grip takes his wrist, bringing him to a full stop. He stops, unnaturally snapping his neck to see who would dare disrupt the Radio Demon himself.
His ears flatten against his head, and with a sudden disbelief in what he’s seeing, his eyes return to their normal crimson.
Rosie towers over his hunched form, her eyes stern.
♡♡♡
“Al, sweetheart, you gotta go. You're disturbing my client.”
