| Mrs. Alastor
⋆.𐙚 ̊ ────────────────────ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ
masterlist | Human!Alastor x Human Wife!Alastor
| Word Count: 2.2k
| CW: making out, cuddling, touching (not sexual), asexual Alastor, touch positive Alastor (only with his beloved wife)
| Summary: Alastor, in life, was married. It was mostly for appearances, to keep up his persona, but he did love you. He might not have been interested in sex, but he wouldn’t dream of depriving you of physical affection.
Your husband arrives home at the same time he does every work day. He’s very diligent about time keeping, rarely does he ever opt for a social gathering at a bar over being home.
His books fill the shelves that slowly envelop the parchment coloured walls of your sitting room. He seems to need a new addition to house his growing collection every couple months. You don’t mind, it makes the house look more detailed.
“My dear?” He calls from the front hall, delicately hanging his overcoat by the grand entrance door.
The radio show has provided the two of you with a large pay check at the end of every week, enabling him to purchase such a substantial home. Your front door alone cost $200, the thick slab of rich cherry having to be imported from Canada.
You peak your head around the corner and smile at your husband.
“Good evening, Al.” You chirp happily, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of diced bell peppers you intend to pour into your dinner.
He gives you a chaste little kiss on your forehead, grabbing a couple pieces of veggie while you’re distracted. A laugh bubbles in his chest at the look you give him for tampering in your cooking.
“What are you cooking, love?” He asks, gesturing to the crackling stove just out of view.
His pet names always make you feel warm inside. You know this marriage is for appearances, he told you that before he even proposed, but he loves you in his own way.
“Your favourite,” You smile up at him. “Mama’s recipe, too.”
“Ah, my darling,” His voice lilts theatrically, as it does on his broadcasts. “how glad am I that mother was kind enough to share that with you.”
The apples of your cheeks warm when he cups your face in his surprisingly hard worked hands. One would expect him to have smooth skin, soft finger pads and gentle palms based on his occupation, but his after work activities deny such things.
“As am I.” You giggle. “I’m nearly finished it, get settled and I’ll fetch you a dish.”
He thanks you before whisking off to the second floor. You can hear his measured steps on the finely crafted hardwood panels gracing every square inch ground in your home.
You return to the kitchen and stir in the vegetables Alastor picked at, turning the stove down to simmer while you set the dining table in the room adjacent.
The silk tablecloth is elegant in a way that makes it resemble liquid, the crystal chandelier’s glow dipping into every fold and stretch of fabric. White porcelain of shallow bowls glitters inviting the loaded scoops of jambalaya from the deep cast iron pan.
Small tufts of steam float up from the meal as you place expensive, silver utensils on the black lace placemats.
“Alastor?” You call from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes, dear?” He responds, coming from your shared bedroom to the railing.
“Would you like a glass of red with supper?” You ask innocently, though his thoughts nearly instantly slither into sinful places.
Suddenly, he wishes that he took care of that loathsome salesman this afternoon instead of pushing it to tomorrow. He misses the feeling of thick, red human blood between his fingertips; it’s been a while.
He shakes his head and reels his focus back to you, his dutiful wife.
“That sounds lovely,” His fingers work deftly to release the buttons of his shirt, his eyes downcast to avoid somehow revealing what thoughts grace his twisted mind. “I’ll be down shortly.”
“This is absolutely perfect, my dear!” Alastor compliments after his first bite of the jambalaya you prepared.
You smile bashfully and cover your mouth with your hand as you finish chewing.
“Thank you, Al.” You say, cheeks warm from his praise.
Praise always feels stronger coming from him for some reason, more important than any other opinion you receive on that particular matter.
“You’re welcome.” He nods, honing his focus back in on the meal.
The conversations as the bowls empty are riveting and you’re so glad to have a husband that you can speak to properly.
You know of many women who rarely speak to their husbands, and others who are forced to speak in a certain way to avoid shouting or even violence. Alastor could never be compared to men of such a low calibre.
“I’ll meet you in bed, love.” He says, collecting dishes from the dining table.
“Oh— Alastor, please. Don’t worry yourself with cleaning, that’s my job.” You try, but he isn’t having it.
“Nonsense!” He chirps with a soft smile and a shake of his head. “Run along.”
He waves for you to get to your nightly routine while he does the house work— the work his housewife should be doing.
You smile giddily as you hurry up the stairs, smiling the whole time you brush your teeth and wash your face and slide into your comfortable silk slip.
Tap water rushing and clothes clinking resonate from the bathroom and you know that your husband has done the dishes and is already preparing for sleep.
“You look splendid, my dear.” Alastor coos from the doorway to your shared bedroom after a couple minutes.
He might not be sexually attracted to you, but he could certainly appreciate your beauty.
The smile already steadily plastered to your face spreads wider at his compliment on your looks.
“Will you be joining me?” You ask, patting the space on the bed beside you. “Or is this a ‘write for this weekend’s broadcast’ kind of night?”
He shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest.
“No,” He says simply. “I’ve completed that script already.”
The bed dips under his weight, creaking audibly as it takes the weight of two people.
“Shall I read to you this evening?” He asks in a smooth, buttery voice.
You situate yourself next to him on the large, cushiony mattress, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.
“Hmm,” You hum noncommittally, tracing the line of his arm from shoulder to wrist. “I’m afraid im a bit too weary for that tonight.”
Your regretful confession makes him frown; he loves reading to you. He takes your delicate hand in his and rubs the knuckles with his thumb. Your eyes meet his and you can tell he doesn’t want to skip over your nightly bonding.
“Can I give you a massage?” He asks quietly, his voice almost a little pleading.
You give him a downturned smile before nodding.
“I suppose I couldn’t turn down one of those.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He whispers, smile spreading to the apples of his cheeks.
You sigh contentedly and turn to lay on your stomach. His hands find your shoulders and push the straps of your slip down.
“Is this alright, love?” He asks, pushing the silk fabric down further to reveal more of your back.
“Yes. You’re my husband, after all.” You giggle at the fact that he still asks to expose your body in his presence.
He laughs back, settling your sleep dress around your hips so your whole upper body is out in the open. Your breasts are hidden, pressed against the mattress, but you still feel naked.
“Relax, my dear. This is meant to make you sleepy, remember?”
You nod, turning your head to the side to look at him.
“I know,” You say softly. “I’m just not used to being topless around you.”
He pauses his movements when you say that, hands hovering just above your shoulders.
“Sorry, darling. I do deprive you of physical affection, don’t I?” He sighs regretfully.
“No, no. Don’t feel guilty, Al.” You turn back around, forearm crossing over your chest to cover your nipples. “I told you that I’m comfortable with your libido.”
“I remember, love, but I know you enjoy it.” He laughs to himself. “The way you acted on our wedding night was… interesting, to say the least.”
You hum, recalling the one and only time you made love with your husband. He’d done it as a gift, going along with tradition. He didn’t really enjoy it, but it was for you, someone he loved dearly, so it was okay.
“Well, as much as I enjoy it, I can live without it.” You assure him with a kiss to his unwilling lips.
He frowns, lying down beside you.
“But you are attracted to me?” He asks.
You raise your eyebrow at him and try to understand why exactly he’s asking that.
“Attracted to you? Of course I am, Alastor.” You say, laying your hand on his chest through his sleep shirt. “You’re a handsome man, you know that.”
“That’s what I’ve heard, yes.” He chuckles and looks down. “But maybe I could give you something other than sex?“
“What’re you implying, dear?” You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously.
“Kissing maybe?” He offers, unsure. “I— I know we’ve done that before, but maybe we could both be shirtless? A little closer to intercourse?”
“I… would enjoy that…” You mull over the offer for a moment. “You’re comfortable with that, though?”
“I am.” He says quickly. “I love you, dear. I want to take care of you.”
Your heart melts at his sweet words. You lean forward and kiss him again. He cups your cheek and kisses you back this time, his warms lips moving along with yours.
Making out is not a new concept to your relationship, but his idea to be shirtless while doing it certainly is.
His tongue works its way between your lips and hooks behind your front teeth. He always does that, and it always makes you giggle.
“Take my shirt off.” He whispers the direction into your ajar mouth.
The tone of his voice is so foreign to you, so oddly and uncharacteristically seductive. You nod eagerly and release your breasts, hands immediately focusing on unbuttoning his shirt.
He doesn’t open his eyes to peek at your body, just keeps kissing you as you reveal his body. Even when you pull away from his lips to remove the soft fabric from his body, he kisses thoughtlessly at your head.
“You’re like a rabid animal,” You tease, allowing his affection to be placed all over your forehead and brows.
“I like this kind of touch.” He says simply, his own hands sliding down from your arms to hold your waist.
“Clearly…” You grumble, a cute smile painted on your lips.
His skin is soft under your thumbs, the lightly toned muscles of his chest provide gentle dips for your fingers to trace. The planes of skin under your touch are smooth like the silk of your slip, only becoming soft with hair near the bottom of his stomach.
Your shameless exploration of his body makes him laugh and guide your mouth back to his.
“You forgot about the kissing part,” He teases, giving you a chaste kiss before taking your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling back an inch.
Breast in hand, he relents his tugging, giving you a squeeze.
“Alastor!” You exclaim, voice high several pitches above your normal in shock that he’s touching your breast.
“What is it, dear?” He says innocently, tilting his head to the side.
“You’re touching my chest?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you touching my chest?” You narrow your eyes at his coyness.
“It’s soft,” He shrugs. “feels nice.”
Staring incredulously, you slowly relax under his touch. This is unfamiliar, but it’s also immensely enjoyable. You kiss him, wanting to melt into his body, fuse into this moment forever.
“That’s my good girl,” He whispers between the quick, wet sounds of your lips.
Warmth radiates between your closely pressed bodies, the pressure on your breasts lulling your mind into a comfortable sub space.
You hum, a hand sliding up Alastor’s arm to his neck. His pulse thumps under your palm, slow but thick with calm blood. He seems so oddly tranquil, as if this amorous cuddle does more for him than a cup of tea ever could.
The kiss goes on for longer than you can remember, lips swollen and pinkened by the time he’s pulling his head back.
“Darling— darling,” He says gently, moving his hand from your breast to hold your face still. “as much as I’m enjoying this, I think you’re getting a little sleepy.”
You blink at him, cute confusion gracing your soft eyes and tired lips.
“Sleepy?” Your voice echoes, quiet and gravelly.
“Your lips were barely even moving anymore,” He laughs, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “and it seemed wrong to keep touching your body that way if you were unconscious.”
His consideration tugs your lips up weakly, your teeth gleaming in the low light of the singular lamp.
“Maybe it is time to sleep then, hm?” You acknowledge, rubbing your left eye with your fist.
“Exactly what I was thinking, love.” He kisses your forehead as his arms encircle your body.
Snuggling against his cozy, naked upper body, you hum contentedly.
“That was breathtaking, by the way.” You whisper into his neck. “Thank you.”
He smiles to himself before pressing his lips to your hair.
“It was a pleasure, my dear.” He whispers back, letting the kiss linger. “Go to sleep now.”
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A/N: I had this idea and I just thought it was rlly cute so why not write it lol (not proofread)
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