Somehow, we’ve survived 365 (ish) days of memes, fanfic, fanart, story times that got way too spicy, and Hazbin brainrot and while we’re in a lull between seasons, you all show no signs of slowing down! What started as a tiny idea by the original owner is now a 300 members strong creative, chaotic, kind, and wonderfully cursed community.
Seriously, thank you. Whether you’re here to lurk, scream, share art, drop fic, or derail everyone with unholy headcanons, you’ve made this server into something truly special.
Alastor would be horrified. We’re proud of you.
Thanks again for being part of this wonderful corner of Discord and the Hazbin Hotel fandom. We love you. We fear you.
We can’t wait to see what horrors the next year and season two bring us.
“I hope you drown in hydrofluoric acid, burning all your flesh off, and burning all your flesh off as you gasp for air hopelessly! I hope you watch the other vees get skinned alive and have to listen to their screams on repeat every night before bed! I hope your dog gets hit by a car and you are force fed the remains! I hope you get DECLAWED!”
(A very generous thank you for the idea + Insults from @2u1c1d4l!)
“I hope you drown in hydrofluoric acid, burning all your flesh off, and burning all your flesh off as you gasp for air hopelessly! I hope you watch the other vees get skinned alive and have to listen to their screams on repeat every night before bed! I hope your dog gets hit by a car and you are force fed the remains! I hope you get DECLAWED!”
(A very generous thank you for the idea + Insults from @2u1c1d4l!)
“I hope you drown in hydrofluoric acid, burning all your flesh off, and burning all your flesh off as you gasp for air hopelessly! I hope you watch the other vees get skinned alive and have to listen to their screams on repeat every night before bed! I hope your dog gets hit by a car and you are force fed the remains! I hope you get DECLAWED!”
(A very generous thank you for the idea + Insults from @2u1c1d4l!)
warnings: negative body image, insecurity/self-worth struggles, reader feels ugly, slight mentions of worthlessness
word count: 1622
summary: Lost in self-doubt, you find yourself fixated on your reflection—until Alastor, with an unexpected softness, reminds you that no matter your worries, you are his beautiful lover that he adores.
alastor x gn!reader. ...this may or may not be a self-comforting fic i wrote because i've been feeling extra mean towards my body recently. i tried to make this scenario as appearance-neutral for the reader so you can all find comfort within this too. remember that all bodies are beautiful and that my messages are always open if you need someone to confide in <3 enjoy!
The mirror in your hotel room is an unkind thing today.
You don’t know why, or perhaps you do and you just don’t want to admit it, but the sight of your own reflection fills you with a bitter, sinking feeling. It’s the kind of feeling that creeps in slowly, a whisper at first, growing louder with each passing second. Your eyes trace over every perceived flaw, lingering too long on the places you wish were different, the parts of yourself that have always felt like a battle to accept. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been told otherwise—the voice in your head is relentless, insistent.
You press your lips together, shifting your weight, your arms folding over yourself as if you could shield yourself from your own scrutiny. The glass offers no mercy, no warmth. It’s just you and your reflection, an unrelenting judge of things no one else seems to notice. Maybe it’s the way your clothes fit today, or the memory of an offhand comment that stuck longer than it should have. Maybe it’s years of built-up insecurity, clinging to you like a second skin.
A sigh leaves you, heavy with self-loathing. Your hands twitch slightly, brushing over your arms as if the sensation of touch could ground you in anything other than this endless cycle of self-criticism. It doesn’t help. You shift your stance again, trying to find an angle that feels less wrong, less uncomfortable in your own skin, but nothing changes. The mirror doesn’t lie—or at least, that’s what your mind tells you. You shift your weight from foot to foot, your mind tumbling into an abyss of comparisons and quiet grievances.
“Ah-ha! There you are, my dear! I’ve been looking all over for—”
Alastor’s voice, bright as ever, slices through the room as he steps inside, but his usual cadence falters the moment he truly sees you. His crimson gaze flickers to your face, then to the mirror, then back again, taking in the stiffness of your shoulders, the downcast corners of your lips, the way your fingers fidget nervously against your skin as if trying to disappear within yourself.
He tilts his head, his smile unwavering but questioning as he narrows his eyes. “And what’s got you standing there like a mourner at their own funeral?”
You purse your lips slightly and curl your fingers against your arms, sharp claws pressing into your skin. You know how he is—he doesn’t do softness, not really. He’s all grins and keen words and devilish delight. Would he find you foolish, dismiss your worries as inconsequential? Would he laugh, claim them as fleeting insecurities unworthy of attention? The thought alone makes your throat constrict, your back stiffening as if bracing for rejection before it even arrives. But the weight in your chest and longing to be listened to wins out over your hesitations.
“I just… I don’t like how I look,” you admit lamely, barely above a whisper.
There’s a beat of silence, then a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Well, of course you don’t! You’re a demon, darling! We’re all horrid little creatures, aren’t we?” He waggles his fingers in mock eeriness, the radio static of his voice crackling with amusement. “Ugly is simply part of the package deal! Why, I’d be worried if you looked pleasant to the eye—”
“Alastor.”
Your voice is even smaller than before, fragile as thin ice as you look at him through the mirror.
His grin twitches, the corners dipping imperceptibly as he studies you more closely. And then it clicks.
You mean it.
His amusement dims, just a little, just enough that the glint in his eyes softens. Before you can react, you feel him emerge from the shadows behind you, his long arms snaking around your waist as he steps behind you, pulling you back against his chest. His height makes it so that only the lower half of his face (including his ever-present smile that is now much gentler) appears in the mirror, requiring him to lean down and place his chin on your shoulder. The glass now reflects the image of the two of you together—a stark contrast of his towering frame and your smaller, tense one.
“Now, now,” he hums, quieter but still accompanied by his familiar teasing. “That’s no good at all, my dear. I simply won’t have you talk about my sweetheart like that.”
Your breath catches, cheeks dusted red from his words. Affection from Alastor is… rare. Fleeting. He’s not one for sentimentality, nor is he known for doting words. But here he is, holding you close, speaking in a tone that swapped its regular performance for a much more tender sound.
Still, you can’t help the small, bitter chuckle that escapes you. “You don’t have to do this,” you murmur, voice wavering slightly. “I know you’d rather be out there doing something more fun, like eating Sinners in the Doomsday district or scaring the residents of the hotel. You... you don’t need to pretend for my sake.”
Alastor’s grip subtly tenses, his velveteen fingers pressing into your sides as if the mere suggestion of your words offends him more than anything else ever could. He pulls back just enough for you to see his expression shift—not the usual theatrics, but something else, something softer hidden beneath the playfulness.
“Now that is where you’re mistaken,” he says, and though his tone remains laced with amusement, the deepness of it makes your stomach twist. He twirls a finger in the air before tapping your nose, a gesture that feels more affectionate than teasing. “Why, what could possibly be more fun than adoring my dearest darling? The fact that you think I don’t enjoy such a role wounds me! Truly, I may never recover!”
You blink, staring at him, searching for the exaggeration, the typical mischief, but all you find is sincerity wrapped in dramatics. Alastor is not a lover of gentle confessions, nor is he prone to vulnerability—but here he is, reassuring you in the best way he knows how. It isn’t just playfulness; it’s a truth nestled beneath his grin, a declaration in his own peculiar way.
"I just... I didn't think you enjoyed doing this kind of thing," you admit with slight hesitancy. "We've been together for a few months now, but I can't help but feel as though I’m a burden sometimes. Like... maybe I'm just taking up space in your afterlife, and one day you'll realize that I'm not worth all the trouble."
Alastor clicks his tongue, his hairs tickling your cheek as he shakes his head earnestly. "Darling, if you believe that, then you don’t know me nearly as well as I thought!" His voice is still lighthearted, but there’s seriousness woven between his words. He exhales a short, theatrical sigh, as if deeply offended by the notion. "You could spend an eternity doubting, but it wouldn't change a thing—you're stuck with me, my dear. And I do so love having you stuck with me."
He snuggles into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin as he hums, "Would I be here now, holding you like this, if I didn’t want to? Would I have sought you out, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, if you weren’t worth every second of my time? Oh, you must know by now—I don’t waste my affections on just anyone. No, I’m mad for you, darling, hopelessly and delightfully so!" His hands squeeze at your waist, punctuating his words with a rare touch of sincerity before he grins. "Now, whether you deserve me, well, that’s an entirely different matter!"
You roll your eyes, but the smile threatening to form betrays you. He sees it. He thrives on it.
His arms tighten around you as he starts to sway the both of you side to side. “You, cher, are radiant,” he sings, his voice warbling like an old radio tune. “The most stunning little Sinner this wretched realm has ever seen. Hell, I’d argue that if anyone dare look upon you with anything less than adoration, they simply lack taste! And we wouldn’t want to listen to tasteless opinions, now, would we?”
You let out a soft huff, shaking your head, your body easing just a bit in his hold. Your lips turn upright at the corners, slowly morphing into a smile you can't hold back.
His smile stretches wider. “There’s my favorite expression! Much better.” His fingers leave your hips as he spins you from the mirror, your reflection now behind you. “Now, what do you say we leave this dreadful mirror behind and head downstairs, together? I do believe I was in the middle of something spectacularly important before I had to come console you.”
“Oh?” you arch a brow. “And what was that?”
“Why, looking for you, of course!” He laughs, the sound bright and crackling, infectious in a way you can’t resist.
You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable now. With a final glance at the mirror, this time seeing not just yourself but the unwavering presence behind you, you nod.
“Okay,” you say, reaching for his hand. “Let’s go.”
He takes your hand with practiced ease and leads you out of the room, his fingers laced between yours as he brings your intertwined hands to the crook of his other arm. And as you two step into the hallway, you can still hear his humming—a bright, old-timey melody that seems to fill the space around you, pushing away every shadow of doubt lingering in your mind.
And with that, Alastor leads you away, his hold as steady as the unwavering devotion in his eyes.
gentle reminder that my requests are currently OPEN!
Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.
Thank you very muchly.
Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)
~~~~
✨Opening Up✨
Lucifer x f!reader
Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer
It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅
I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭
Tag list: @trashbin-nie
@yellowsubiesdance
@j-jinxee
@stevensdickrider
@airwolf92
@mrssabinecallas
@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis
@bee-sinner
@thesoccerenthusiast
@katshyperfixations
@logybearsblog
@bigfatbimbo
You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.
Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.
"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."
"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."
Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."
"O-Ok," you stuttered.
"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.
You shook your head. "No."
"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"
You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.
"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.
Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.
"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.
"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.
Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."
"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.
“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.
You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”
Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”
“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”
You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.
“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.
It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.
“Lucifer?” you called to him.
“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”
“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”
You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.
You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.
After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.
“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.
“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.
All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.
“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.
“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”
Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.
"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"
Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."
“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.
“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.
“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”
“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”
"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.
"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.
"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.
“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.
“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”
Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”
You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.
Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.
“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.
“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”
Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.
“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.
You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.
“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”
“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.
“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”
“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.
“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.
Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.
“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”
Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”
You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”
Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”
Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.
~~~~
Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo
AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT
Alastor is PANICKING about being unable to find Niffty's meds. Everyone at the hotel think it's some kind of a joke before they realize they've only known Niffty while she is on them... No one knows what she is like - or what she becomes - without them...until now.
Alastor entered the room looking more panicky than anyone had ever seen. “HAS ANYONE SEEN NIFTYS MEDICATION”
The room went quiet hearing Alastor’s real voice in his frenzied state.
“Medication?” Charlie asked. “What does she need medication for?”
“Charlie dear without them she’s a little not herself.” Alastor’s radio overlay had returned but his tone was off. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel all looked at each other with fear. What if Alastor was holding Nifty back from being even worse? What if this was the best Nifty could be?
Charlie and Vaggie took off to search the hotel. Vaggie started in the basement and Charlie on the roof.
Angel Dust immediately began attempting to get ahold of his plug in case they could not find it. his plug could find anything clean as straight from a pharmacy.
When Lucifer showed up he was immediately tasked with helping Alastor question Nifty on the location of her meds in case she hid them herself.
Cherri woke up during the chaos and immediately decided to be an agent of chaos and attempt to free Nifty from the very polite interrogation.
This of course led to a full-scale manhunt for the two one-eyed ladies around the hotel Scooby-Doo style. Vaggie was of course the first one to find them out on the front lawn leading to a full-blown fistfight between Vaggie and Cherri. Which leads to a verbal argument between Charlie and Angel. Then Alastor and Lucifer started trying to question Nifty again about if she knew where her meds were.
Husk was walking up the driveway after a long trip to Hell-Mart when he stumbled upon this scene. “What the fuck are yall doing?!” He barked.
“They can’t find my meds, Husk!” Nifty laughed her deranged little laugh.
“That’s because you ran out. I just grabbed them from the pharmacy.” He tosses her the pills. “Not sure why everyone is fighting that you couldn’t find your Concerta at two in the afternoon. You already took one this morning.” Husk proceeded to walk into the hotel. Charlie looks over at the bottle in Nifty’s hand and faints.
As soon as Alastor was able to slip away and investigate what was to be his new radio tower at the Hazbin Hotel, he did. Upon entering it; he found the addition to the hotel very much to his liking as well as something…surprising.
His cane was there; fully intact and thrumming with a higher frequency of power than it had had even before it’s destruction. The eye within the microphone of it ebbed and waned in a soft green glow.
Interesting…
Alastor approached it slowly; eyes shifting and ears rotating as he went to the nearly re-furbished control panel where it laid. Picking it up; he examined the staff briefly before the green glow in the eye flashed brighter and a cacophony of radio static erupted from its top.
Alastor’s ears flattened at the terrible sound before it crackled out into something less piercing; turning into something duller like what one might hear from an old cassette tape or a walkie-talkie.
“I’m happy to know that you are still alive…Alastor.”
Alastor’s ears shot up at the feminine voice filtering through the static of his cane. He felt the collar to his leash tighten around his neck; a chill creeping down his spine.
“It would have been…disappointing, to lose you to someone like Adam…and so soon.”
It was a recording.
“We’ve come so much closer…you’ve done well. I assume your having not contacted me, since first we met, means that you are still committed to our cause. I know that I still am.”
One of Alastor’s long ears slowly rotated; listening intently to the audio.
“Take it as a sign of encouragement that I have mended your conduit to my power; imbuing it with more…should you need or want it.”
“After all…there is no rest for the wicked…and there’s much to do yet.”
A muffled lilting laugh, then: “Tell the King, I wish him well…”
The audio cut out with a click and the green glow surrounding his staff faded away. Still; Alastor stared at it, loosely held there in his hand….remembering…
He was in a place surrounded in darkness, but there were tendrils…tentacles of something there with him in the dark…winding and coiling around him…pulling him further into the blackness of the shadows and tightening around every part of him they could reach. Each twisting and boneless limb immitted a soft green glow; bolts of bright green energy thrumming from their surface and rippling from base to tip.
His wide red eyes stared unseeingly into the black; his smile stretched taut across his face.
Alastor was trying to stay calm…trying to stave off the rush of rising panic that was threatening to burst past his carefully maintained persona and overwhelm him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t summon any amount of his power, and he couldn’t shift form.
He was in the presence of something unfathomably sinister and he knew not what it wanted of him.
“At last…we finally meet…Radio Demon.”
A tinkling voice lilted to him – everywhere – from the dark. The sound of it sent ice through his veins.
“I have meant to find you for some time…my apologies…for rudely pulling you through one of my cracks.” The tendrils tightened around him.
He had found the crack, twisting its way in a lesser-known part of Hell…immediately recognizing it for what it was. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, he had gotten too close, and he hadn’t seen the tendril sliding out and reaching for him…before it was too late.
Alastor swallowed; thinking it best that he say something.
“A pleasure…quite a pleasure, I believe…though…I’m much more accustomed to participating in introductions face-to-face.”
A tinkling and eerie laugh then, “You do not like my smile, Alastor? Surely you of all people know the value of hiding behind a mask…”
The tentacles surrounding him wriggled and slithered against him with more urgency, emphasizing this to him.
“But, you do know who I am…don’t you.”
When he had nothing as a reply she only laughed again.
“Oh…how you entertain me, Radio Demon…dealmaker…I wonder…might you humor me? Consider my offer?”
Alastor ears straightened at that, and his body stiffened.
“I imagine that I am left with not much choice.” He shifted; squirmed as the tendrils encircling him continued their windings all around him.
“But, you are…I hold you in very high respects, Alastor…you seem one who is very clever…very capable…refuse or accept my offer; it will make no matter. Your life in death will not be forfeit.”
“That certainly piques some interest, then.”
She laughed.
“Since my awakening in Eden, I have sought entrance into all realms…one still evades me. I have many and more cracks…seeking a path to what I have not yet found…perhaps someone who is…capable…might be of some use to me?”
“You wish for me to help you to establish your roots into Heaven.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes…you would have access to a…significant…amount of my power…my abilities. You would use these,” The tendrils moved and shocks of green flowed brighter along their lengths. “They have…many uses….some of interest to you being that: they can create cracks, tear holes into other existing realms…drag holy souls from on-high, even to the depths of Hell.”
Alastor’s eyes widened; hearing her voice the deepest desire he held well hidden…in his dead heart.
“How…!?”
“My power, Alastor…is incomprehensible.”
“What is the cost?”
“You, of course, already know the answer.” He did. “But, first…consider my terms.”
“I am listening…”
“You will pay your price and receive my power. If I find what I am looking for…be it through you or some other means…your payment will be restored to you, you will keep whatever power I have lent to you, and you will be free to drag whom-so-ever you wish to whatever realm you so choose. If…at any time…you decide you no longer wish to continue with this…transaction…you may contact me. I will take back my power and you may have back what is yours…never the worse for your…consideration.”
“You flatter me, truly…however…a good dealmaker knows when a deal is too good to be true.”
“Yes…” She allowed. “But, too…are the deals that are much too tempting…to resist.”
Alastor flicked his ears at the memory; lowering the cane and looking vaguely around the new station. He thought about the deal he had made…his deal made with Roo.
Everything she had promised – so far – she had gave him. He had spent a good deal of time exploring the power…the abilities…she had lent him: tearing through realms and forming cracks into others. Time did different things when you traveled like this, though… 7 years passed in Hell before he slipped through the crack into where he was discovered by Lucifer and Lilith – conducting their own nefarious business in a realm between Heaven and Hell.
Roo had warned Alastor that this may happen…that he might find others with a similar goal in mind…
“You might be wise to avoid them finding you…or…you might find that joining them might be beneficial…to us…in some way. I will leave that for you…to decide.”
At a costume party Alastor is dressed as a pirate, and you're dressed as a bar wench... You find yourself drunk and fumbling desperately in a dark closet, him holding the door shut so no one walks in, while pinning your to the wall, while you work yourself up and down his cock.
💜😘😈
You know me, I had to make it just a teensy bit darker and rougher than the prompt required, but I think you're gonna like it.
You had been with Alastor for a while now and while it wasn’t exactly rare that you two were intimate, you had never seen him openly stare at you like he was doing that night.
Sex with Alastor was always an event that required lots of buildup prior and sometimes it had little to do with you.
If the two of you had spent hours of quality alone time together – dancing or talking – he might make love to you in a slow, tender fashion. The kind of long, sultry love-making that made your toes curl, your heart sing, and left no room for doubt of the depth and intensity of Alastor’s affection for you.
Other times he would return to the hotel in a quiet, seething rage and you would slink off to your room, knowing he would come and find you, and take what he needed from you. Those were the times he fucked you. It was always a brutal act and he took you in such aggressive, carnal ways that there was always a touch of fear in your heart for him then. With his cock slamming into you, drawing out each of your orgasms almost against your will, he reminded you of the sheer power imbalance in your relationship. And when he came, he always bit you, filling himself with your blood as he likewise filled you with him cum; marking you and devouring you so that you knew you were his. Reminding you that you should feel lucky to be in such a position; because if you weren’t, you’d likely be dead.
But outside of your most private moments, he rarely touched you. A chased kiss to the back of your hand before he left on the errand was the only real show of affection he would perform in front of others.
So when you had come down the stairs in your costume and he continued to stare you down from across the room, you weren’t sure what to make of it. In fact, you assumed wrongly as first that he was angry at you for your choice of costume.
Your bar maid outfit was far from slutty as far as Hell’s opinion on the matter went, but it certainly had more cleavage than your day to day outfits showed. Those tits of yours were pushed up high and looking round and inviting, sure, but otherwise the outfit was fairly modest. With a long, heavy skirt, and an apron designed to look well used and authentic, you were hardly the most scantily clad member of the hotel. Even Charlie, in her bunny costume, was showing off the entire expanse of her legs and even her lower ass cheeks and Vaggie certainly looked like she had no complaints about her girlfriend’s attire.
Again, you caught Alastor’s attention and with an irritated flush, you tried pulling up the ruffles of your shirt just a little more.
You shouldn’t care what he thought. It was your body and you still had autonomy in this relationship, or so you had been led to believe. And for fuck’s sake, the vamps and flappers of his day showed off more skin a hundred years ago.
After adjusting your clothes, you looked back up at him in time to see his eyes narrow even more as he watched you over the rim of his whiskey glass.
You huffed and grabbed your drink from the bar and down half of it in one swallow.
Fuck this.
You should be enjoying yourself. This was a party, for Satan’s sake, and it was suppose to be a rare fun night in Hell. And Alastor was looking way too yummy in his pirate costume to be acting like such a bastard when all you wanted to do was enjoy the eye candy that was your lover for the evening.
Instead, you avoided him, not wanting him to sour your mood any further. So you drank and danced, usually with Charlie, but often with Cheri or Angel, and whenever it was with the latter, you ended up with another drink in your hand.
As the night went on, you almost forgot about Alastor and his stupid, angry face. But then you realized you had gotten far more intoxicated than you intended to and you stumbled your way from the dance floor, your drunken, lonely heart searching for him as your irritation with him was washed away by the booze. All you could remember were those tight pants and the eye patch that had been traded in place of his usual monocle. You wanted to run your hands through the ruffles of his shirt before ripping them off of him.
But then you couldn’t find Alastor. As much as you searched through the crowd swarming the hotel lobby, you couldn’t find those familiar red ears and little antlers. Even through your drunken haze, trepidation began to bloom in your stomach, twisting your organs into knots of anxiety.
You remembered his anger then and in a rush of regret, realized avoiding him had been the wrong course of action.
Feeling flushed with alcohol and guilt, you swept your eyes over the dance floor one last time, no longer able to absorb the happiness and light atmosphere in the room. All you could see were the mistakes you had made that night. So you left without saying goodbye to anyone, wandering down the empty hallway that would lead you to your room and hopefully some form of reconciliation.
You blinked in confusion as the hallway suddenly went dim, the lights flickering to low before going out completely. In your drunken stupor, you weren’t sure what was happening, until a pair of arms grabbed your roughly from behind.
And then you were dissolving, falling, flying, spinning . . .
You came to in a tiny dark room, illuminated by a singular, pathetic lightbulb dangling above your head, as Alastor loomed over you, pressing you against the wall.
Your head spun for a moment longer as you got your bearings. Transporting you by shadow had been a mean trick as you often got a little motion sick from it even when sober. But your breath caught in your throat, stalling your nausea, as you looking up with shaking pupils to see Alastor’s blazing red eyes boring into you.
Before you could speak, he had a clawed hand on your jaw and pushed you harder into the wall behind you.
“Did you really think teasing me all night was a good idea?”
“I’m sorry- ” you squeaked out as he lunged at you but then his mouth was at your neck. As he sucked and kissed your flesh down to your shoulder, a mix of confusion and arousal began to course through your muddled mind. “Teasing you?” you stammered. “You think I was teasing you?”
“Wearing this?” he said, leaning lower and forcing the hem of your blouse lower to expose more of the swell of your cleavage before he took a mouthful of your curves, the sharp edges of his teeth digging in enough to feel the sting. “Not speaking to me,” he said when he let go of your breast with a pop. “Dancing with others. Always keeping me in your line of sight.”
“You – you liked the costume? I thought . . . I thought you were angry?”
“Angry?” Alastor yanked the loose collar of your blouse off your shoulders and you obediently pulled your arms free of the sleeves, exposing the strapless bra beneath. “Why would I be angry at you showing off a bit of your beauty?”
He reached behind you, unhooking the back of your bra and made you watch as he burned it in his grasp before turning his attention to your breasts.
“Your only mistake dear, was not making it clear that beautiful body belonged to me,” he said as he cupped your mounds; massaging and pinching your nipples between his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back to the wall behind you, arching your chest into his hands. “It is, it’s all yours.”
That heavy skirt was being lifted now as Alastor brought it higher and higher, exposing inch after inch of your thighs until he had the fabric bunched up at your hips. He bent down on his knees and you leaned your hips forward as he pressed his face into you, leaving teasing, tender kisses along the top band of your lacy underwear.
“Hold this,” he directed and you took the folded fabric of your skirt in both your hands as Alastor hooked a careful claw under your thong and pulled it down your legs. “I think a little teasing is in store for you, don’t you agree?”
You only nodded as you stepped out of your underwear and he guided one leg up onto his shoulder and felt him continue his path of kisses along the inside of your thigh and all around the outer edges of your lower lips.
Whimpering at the close contact of his lips and the heat of his breath ghosting across your moist opening, you clutched onto your skirts and ached for more.
His tongue darted out, dragging a long but feather light lick along your slit, making your hips rock as you tried to ground into him.
“So wet for me already,” he hummed and praised you with one hard suck on your clit before returning to his tongue to its torturous administrations. Slow, light, cruel strokes along your cunt that had you nearly crying out for more.
“I was thinking about you.”
“Think about me?” he asked as he slipped a single finger inside you, just past your entrance. “While dancing with others?”
His long, slender digits stroked your insides in a come hither motion, making your legs tremble in pleasure.
It wasn’t enough to let you come, just enough to keep you on the edge, begging for more, and he knew it. Alastor was going to make you work for it, make you apologize and beg for more before he let you finish.
“I came looking for you. I wanted you. I was just scared.”
“Scared?” He brought his lips back to you, swirling his tongue around your clit, giving you a small reward for your admittance of fear he clearly liked hearing about. You whined and rocked your hips into his mouth, only catching your breath enough to reply when he pulled away; only touching you with that solitary finger still inside you and stroking you along to a release it refused to give.
“You looked so angry.”
“Hmmm, your mistake,” he said and looked up at you with a mischievous smile. “Though I suppose anger and desire are cousins at times.”
“Let me make it up to you.”
He finger left you and he stood, once again towering over you.
“And how would you like to do that, darling?”
You stood on tip toe and kissed him, pulling his head down to you with one hand while the other cupped the bulge that you could now see, even in the dim light of the closet.
“How I usually apologize to you, of course,” you teased, feeling a little bolder and more relaxed now.
Those ruby eyes of his flashed brighter for a second and you got on your knees as he unzipped his trousers and pulled them down with his underwear, letting his cock bob free and guided you by the back of your head onto his considerable length.
Letting your skirts drop around you, but keeping your breasts exposed for him to enjoy, you settled in before him and parted your lips for him.
You moaned as he filled up your mouth, taking him down inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat and you pulled away, leaving a tantalizing string of saliva between your lips and his throbbing tip.
Then you licked along his sides and the venous, pulsing bottom of his length, coating every bit of him until he was wet enough for you hand to pump at his base and you could focus on sucking what you could fit into your mouth easily. Keeping your own demonic teeth at bay, you worked his cock just how you knew he liked it; alternating between taking him fast and deep, and swirling, pleasant flicks of your tongue along his tip.
You performed to the very best of your abilities, meeting his gaze the entire time with the widest, most sorrowful doe eyes you could muster, until you heard the two little words you had been waiting for him to utter.
“Good girl,” he sighed as he cupped your jaw, thrusting his cock into your mouth with an appreciative slow tenderness, allowing you to do most of the work he trusted you to do so well.
You hummed in agreement and pulled your mouth away from him, though you still slowly worked your fist along his length. “I’m your good girl. Can I have my reward now?”
“And what should that reward be?” he asked, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers, an innocent look on his face despite the fact that you were still stroking his cock.
You kissed his tip and then several times along his length before you looked back up at him.
“Something this big and gorgeous deserves to be ridden.”
And that was how you found yourself on the floor of the supply closet, with Alastor seated beneath you, both of you still half dressed, as you rode him just like you promised, hard enough that the door behind him kept threatening to swing open until he finally wrapped a shadow tendril around the doorknob to keep it in place.
This wasn’t the sweet and gentle lovemaking you two usually shared. And it wasn’t the forceful, urgent way he took you when his inner demons needed an outlet. This was something in between; lips lingered on skin in heated but delicate caresses, full of reverence and worship for each other. Your bodies joined and met in a harsh rhythm, creating a slapping cacophony of sinful noises that filled the room and likely could be heard if anyone else made the journey down that dark and lonely hallway.
The alcohol coursed through your veins, pushed along by your undead hearts that beat together in a rapid rhythm. Each push and pull of your blood sending more intoxicating substance to your head, and your nervous system, dulling and sharpening your senses all at once. You felt every wet slide of your depths as they clenched and ached around Alastor’s cock, heard every static filled groan and whispered filthy words of praise that spilled from his lips, and yet it took an immense amount of effort for you to finally come.
You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, your breasts heaving with your struggle for air and the desperate rocking of your body into Alastor’s.
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and you could tell he was close and fighting off his own end until you met yours.
The memory of dozens of other nights, with his essence filling you up and coating you with silken warmth sang through your thoughts, spurring you on and finally bringing you to the cliff’s edge of your pleasure.
“Come for me,” you whispered and his eyes shot open at your plea. You pressed your knees into the floor as hard as you could, impaling yourself until you took him as deeply as you possibly could. “Please, Al’.”
Begging. You were properly begging, nearly in tears at how close you suddenly were, feeling yourself already lose control of the muscles in your core as they began to tighten and spasm. “Give it to me. Please.”
He pulled you down to him and bit into the fullest pulse point of your throat, and you screamed a vibrato of ecstasy as you came together. Alastor let your blood spill down your throat and breasts, watching the trickles paint your skin a vibrant red as he twitched inside you, giving you that full and claimed feeling you had been after. As his cock softened and your movements slowed to a halt, you left him nestled in you warmth as he finally began to lick along the crimson trails until you were lapped clean. The bite mark remained, inflamed and clotting, and you arched your throat for him and he kissed along its edges. You practically purred as you laced your fingers through his hair, nestling him to you as you stroked his ears and antlers in the aftermath of your bliss.
“Oh my sweet darling, that was wonderful. Just what I needed.” He sighed and hugged you to him, reduced back to the secret devoted lover you usually had in your bed.
“Will you dance with me now?” you asked, letting your voice slip into something sugary sweet.
With a snap of his fingers, you were both standing and fully dressed. You could even fill the band of your bra digging into your ribs again and the mess between your legs was gone.
Well . . . almost gone. As you stood there, you felt the slightest of trickles leak out of you and dampen your underwear. That, and there was the lingering pang of overworked inner muscles and a rather conspicuous toothy wound on your neck.
You knew all these things were purposeful. They would be a reminder throughout the rest of the night, as Alastor showed you off to the crowd of Sinners, spinning and dipping you across the dance floor, that you were completely, unabashedly, and wholly his. And that you should never, ever, try to avoid him again.
The awsome, lovely, talented @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self officially collaborated, and we present: The first (of hopefully many)
DoubleTrouble Fic!
One prompt, two Writers, two POV's!
While I wrote Alastors POV, find the Reader POV over here
Here's the prompt (from her AO3):
And with that - enjoy, fellow sinners ;> See you on the other side! And a big THANK YOU to @macabr3-barbi3 for being the absolute MVP <3
Alastor x Reader - 5.4k words - NSFW 🔞 - Minors DNI
TW: Period Sex, Graphic depictions of violence, Mentions of Blood (duh)
❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌
Sweet as Cherry Wine
Alastor considered himself to be a man of many things.
Power.
Class.
Self-discipline.
Taste.
But that one, innocent drop of blood of that damned girl had shaken every pillar his once firm foundation had been built upon.
One drop what all it took to make him feel weak, for the first time in decades.
What had been an unfortunate accident, a moment of innocent misjudgment came around to become his biggest curse. When the knife cut her finger instead of the pepper she had been holding, everything could've been avoided if he had acted right. But the sharp blade broke her skin, and since he was a gentleman, he had foolishly aided her, his little helper in the kitchen. One band-aid later, everything could've been fine - She had returned to her tasks, chatting happily.
But Alastor had a drop of the crimson liquid resting on his thumb, calling out to him to not be wasted. Instead of wiping it away with one of the towels, or wash it down the kitchen sink, he had let his 'culinary tendencies' get the better of him, had it been just too long since the last time he sampled fresh blood from another sinner,
and what would be the harm, really?
Oh, how he regretted that question now.
Once the taste of her blood had hit Alastor's tongue, he knew he was doomed. It's aroma invaded his palette, rushing through him with the intensity of a lightning bolt.
He had never understood demons like Husker or Angel getting addicted to substances like alcohol and drugs, with no willpower or restraint to not be a slave to their cravings, until this very moment.
One drop was all it took to make him feel like he would never be satiated again. It had taken everything in him not to bite down, shredding into her flesh and devouring her right at the spot, in front of the princess of hell and the residents of the hotel, who had been painfully oblivious to the monster that clawed on his insides, desperate to be set free and dig it's teeth into the girls throat. His only thought, echoing in his head, was: More, MoRe, MORE!
The following days felt more like what the living depicted as hell for Alastor than anything he experienced since his arrival in this pandemonium.
Torture, end- and merciless, whenever he was near her. Her proximity became almost unbearable, the urge to rip into her delicate skin, to peel her layers one by one, to tear her open and feast on her flesh grew stronger with each encounter.
But he couldn't.
His work towards the hotel, and the ties he had carefully tied to Lucifer's blue-eyed daughter were too important to sever – Alastor's entire afterlife depended on it, to stay in good graces with her, and mauling this girl would ruin his carefully crafted plans.
Alastor felt trapped, a feeling he thoroughly despised. Trapped, again, not by external forces this time, but by his own inability to control his irrepressible hunger for her. Soon enough, he abstained the communal dinners or skipped the princesses daily bonding activities, just so he wouldn't have to smell her again, to remove the temptation, at least for one moment, all the while cursing the girl for simply existing.
Of course, his internal turmoil didn't go unnoticed. The princess had started to pry, as did her suspicious, annoying companion, demanding to know why Alastor made himself more and more rare, and it would only be a matter of time until they wouldn't take any more of his many elusive excuses.
The source of his problem, the girl, had noticed too, sensing somehow the danger she was in and she started to distance herself in the unfortunate event of meeting him, her eyes wary and inquisitive.
He had to give it to her, she was smarter than the rest of the bunch.
But when he set foot into the corridor outside of his room after another, sleepless night, his sensible nose picked up the faint trail of that sweet, metallic odor he came to crave and curse. His throat went dry, itching to be moistened with the sanguine fluid that haunted his dreams.
Was the girl hurt, was there an attack he missed? Alastor felt his heart beat faster – no, she better not be.
If someone was to open her veins, it would be him, or the perpetrator wouldn't see the light of hell's sun no more. He followed the scent with hurried steps, and soon found himself at the girls door.
The musk was heavy now, flooding thickly through the cracks. He felt the monster rumble, and straightened himself to maintain grip on his control.
Through the wooden barrier, he heard her groan, skilled ears categorizing it as sounds of pain. He knocked at the door, willing himself to stay collected.
“Ugh...fucking hell... yes? Come in...”
Her voice sounded sleepy and strained. Alastor knew she mustn't expect him to be the one knocking on her door, but he took this careless invitation nonetheless. He needed to find out why the smell of her was so damn potent, so he pushed open the door without a response..
She was cooped up in her bed, laying on her side with her knees pulled to her chest, her thick blanket wrapped around her tense body. Her head lifted, turned to face her visitor with tired eyes – they widened when she saw him in the door frame.
“Alastor?”
He entered the room, preparing himself for the scent to completely swallow him once he closed the door behind him. The corners of his lips stretched painfully with every drawn breath.
“Pardon my sudden intrusion,”, he said with as much nonchalance as he could while his tongue almost tasted the overwhelming smell of her essence, “I just happened to walk by and heard sounds of distress. Are you quite alright, dear?”
She sat herself up, flinching in the process. She quickly ran fingers through her slightly messy hair, the movement sent new gusts of the maddening fragrance his way. He held his breath, even though the monster in him snarled and roared.
“More or less. It's...”, she eyed him with a strange look – Was it apprehension? Or maybe Incredulity?
“... that time of the month.”
Oh.
Ooooh.
How easy and yet damning of an explanation. Alastor knew he was called uptight and old-fashioned, but he wasn't stupid. He knew about the torture women had to endure each month, a nice little memento of the original sin that preceded the living world to continue in hell as just another form of torment for all eternity. Alastor realized that she, indeed, had been at the hotel for less than three weeks, meaning her cycle must have just restarted when she first arrived. What a cruel coincidence.
“I see. That's... unfortunate.”
She raised an eyebrow at his remark – Although not stupid, Alastor knew he wasn't very eloquent in regards to that matter. But given the situation, sealed in a room whose scent made all his senses scream for murder, eloquence wasn't his first priority.
“Very unfortunate.”, she said with an enigmatic smile. “It's even worse than it was when I was alive, and that was certainly no picnic then either. I'm feeling like I'm being ripped in half.”
“Shame that I can't be of any help with that, little one.”
His ears flicked at the quiet gasp, barely audible, yet he heard it quite clearly.
“Actually...”
He tilted his head at the progression of small events playing out before him – chest heaving slightly heavier with a tint of pink flashing from under the collar of her shirt, brows furrowing, as if in conflict over a thought and little, pearly canines softly biting into her plush lower lip.
Alastor felt a familiar sensation running down his spine – the exhilarating anticipation of a deal about to be made.
“...there is something you could do.”
She avoided his eyes, the blanket that covered her tightly bunched in her firm grip. He stayed quiet, letting the silence continue the work for him.
“I... um... I know from past experience it helps me when I..” The girl closed her eyes and took a deep sharp breath. “...when I have sex.”
He stared at her, for the first time in a long time truly at a loss of words. He wondered if the maddening scent finally drove him over the edge of insanity, but no. She finally met his stare, and he knew he heard right. Of all the things he expected her to say – this was definitely none of them.
“So, I propose a deal.... ugh, shit.”, she continued, shifting under the sheets with her brows twitching as apparently another wave of pain made her cringe.
“Dear, not to offend you, but I think you have an utterly misconstrued perception of my proclivities.”
His burning throat ached when he took another breath as she chuckled quietly, her voice missing any humor.
“I'm pretty sure I have a good idea of your proclivities – I think that you want to eat me ever since the day we cooked together.”
Alastor felt the static that filled him pulsate out of him in almost hurtful intervals, mirroring his fastened heartbeat.
Clever, clever girl.
Suspicions confirmed, the monster growled in him, eager for the hunt, and the kill.
“I don't exactly know why, but since you haven't done it yet, I suspect I must be kind of off-limits. Well... here's your chance.”
His talons dug into his arms, folded behind his back. Flashes of his fevered dreams ran through his mind, images of him biting down on that delicate neck, drinking his fill of her blood while he ripped her apart, limb for limb. He lost control over his face for a second, feeling the snarl he and her heard, barely holding himself together. He cleared his throat, voice thick with fizzing and popping feedback as he tried to appear calm.
“Are you proposing to become my meal, dearest? I can't imagine the pain could be that bad.”
“No! No meal, but the closest thing to it, really.” Her voice vibrated with nervousness, yet her gaze was steady and strangely determined, not leaving his intense, hungry glare.
“My offer is simple. Whenever I'm on my period, you get me off so these god forsaken cramps are at least bearable. And in return, you get my blood during that time. Only that, and only during that time.” She tore her eyes away from him, looking at her fidgeting hands in her lap. “With that, it's a win-win for both of us.”
Alastor's thoughts raced. However disinterested he was in sexual intimacy – the deal she wanted to make was tempting enough to entertain the thought. She had a point, it came close to the 'real deal', although he wondered if there could be a backdoor left open for him to actually consume at least some part of her. But he became unfocused at the prospect of tasting her again, dare he say: desperate to revel in the nectar he craved. He would simply look for a workaround later.
“Well, little one, you seem to have thought this through well enough... how very eager of you.” He stalked forwards, stopping in front of her with baited breath.
“Very well, let's make the deal, then.”
He held out his hand, green light emitted around him, swirling and swiveling like snakes. He could see the glimmer of hesitation in her face, the faint moment of instinct telling her to back out before it would be too late. He knew the expression all too well - In that way, sinners were all alike.
But the moment it appeared it was already gone, and he felt the warmth of her palm in his before he saw the green light wound itself around her arm, exploding into shimmering dust.
It was done, the deal was sealed.
Without a moment to spare, Alastor tore the blanket off her, not a care given to the pieces of fabric he ripped from it in the process. She let out a surprised squeak when he grabbed her bare ankles, pulling her into the center of her bed. Urgency made him careless, almost pouncing to her core, the scent of blood stinging and oh-so inviting in his nostrils, luring him nearer and nearer as he ripped the pants she wore apart with skilled claws.
His ears flicked at her quiet whimper when he parted her legs and pressed his nose against the last barrier; the laughable, thin piece of fabric that younger sinners wore as underwear.
Alastor smelled heaven, the kind of redemption he had no problem in chasing after. He wanted to savor this moment, draw it out as long as he could, finally able to indulge but not wanting to rush through it.
Patience, he thought, forcing him to withdraw, the wait will be worth the while. He knew better than to spoil the meal by getting greedy too soon.
The girl writhed under his touch, face painted in a shade of red that suited her well. His smirk grew wider when he hooked a sharp talon under the hem of her garment, his eyes fixated on hers.
He could see how hard she swallowed when his claw scraped her sensitive, vulnerable skin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slipped the piece of clothing aside. His nostrils flared at the fresh onslaught of her scent, making it even stronger, thicker, heavy and pure and divine, before him a beautiful mess of all shades of red, glistening, ready and waiting to be taken.
Patience.
With great restraint Alastor swiped a finger softly along her opening, circling the outer lips, coating it with the delectable fluid. When he reached the nub at the apex of her slit, he heard her gasp at the sudden contact, involuntary squirming under him. With closed eyes he put the digit in his mouth, expecting but not prepared for the sheer ecstasy the taste ignited - so much better than in his faint memory, the fresh blood lit up sparks before his eyes like burning starlight, making him groan out with rapture. He looked down on his prey, a victim in so many ways, but also a willing participant – while she looked up at him in tense anticipation, albeit her embarrassment of her clearly vulnerable position clearly displayed on her face. The trust she seemed to have in him was ironic, almost absurd, yet it was that look in her eyes that finally made him snap.
Patience could go to the seventh circle of hell for all Alastor cared, he threw all remnants of his caution to the wind, wanting to have it now. All of it, now.
Immediately.
He dove down to the source, pushing his tongue through her heated core in a forceful swoop, a predatory snarl ripping through his throat as the monster in him cheered. She mewled under him, trying to suppress the sounds he managed to bring forth, hands buried in the fabric of the pillows, but that was but a side note to his consciousness. All that mattered to him right now was to devour, to lap up every last drop of the essence he had been longing after, yearned for, desiring and hating and cursing and praying for. The taste of sugar and iron on his taste buds flooded him with intense fervor, pushing his primal instincts over the edge – wilder and wilder he lapped at any patch of blood painted skin he could find, with little to nothing of his usual rationality left, eyes darken into black pits and antlers growing with loud, cracking sounds.
Never, he thought, never, in the span of the countless days, weeks, and months he lived through the seasons of hell, had the act of feasting been this fulfilling and overwhelming. He pressed his entire mouth against her, rubbing his nose against that soft nub, her small yelp muffled through the frizzing in his ears. All his dreams were unable to compare to this, for reality was all it promised.
"Delicious...", he heard himself utter, the tone of his voice dropped an octave lower than usual, "You taste like perfection, darling..."
He sensed the soft tremors that ran through his little partners body, how her labored breathing turned into a set of drawn gasps, a quivering whine when he plunged his tongue inside her, curling against her inner walls and coating it with the pulsating substance flowing through her cunt. The desperate whimpers and sighs, for once not a result of inflicted pain and suffering of his victim but desire and pleasure, only spurred him on more. His grip on her hips tightened, wanting to pull her impossibly closer, take more and more until there was nothing of her left to take, even with the risk of leaving him empty and wanting.
Yet she didn't shy away from him, didn't flee his grip – instead, her hips bucked against him as she prayed his name with a voice dripping with sweetness like honey, her thighs quivered on the sides of his head with each thrust of his appendage, each curl on her inside walls, and with a stifled groan, a rush of fresh blood flooded into his mouth. He drank it greedily, the flavor indescribable, a culmination of all the wants his past and present possessed.
Alastor's teeth grazed the sensitive, thin skin of her folds, dangerously close to actually cut through. The thought of biting down was tempting, his teeth tingled with the desire to do just follow the whim, to bite and gnaw and rip. He felt the urge to shred, to devour, his hunger a force not to be reckoned with. It would be so easy, she was in his arms, in his grasp, completely vulnerable and at his mercy, no one could stop him, no one could interfere, his prize, his prey, his to have, his to consume.
But no.
This was not what their deal had been made for. This was not the right way to go about this. Alastor knew better than to risk the consequences, and he had other ways, even better ways, to achieve the satisfaction he sought. Her sudden loud whimper, shaking from strain and desire brought him back from his thoughts to the present. He realized his vigor, his obscene consuming noises filling the air.
Oh well, it was her own fault, really. If she wasn't such a damn delicacy, he wouldn't have lost himself so easily.
He could sense the girl was slowly getting close to the edge, her core clenched around his tongue, her voice grew louder and higher with each lustful moan. He would make sure she would never forget the experience he'd give her, leaving her desperately wanton for him - his grin widened at the thought.
His free hand wandered up under her shirt to her chest, squeezing her soft breast firmly. As new as the sensation was, Alastor found himself to be rather enamored to the feeling of her mounds of flesh, the weight and fullness in his hand a new, surprisingly welcome discovery. A sharp nail teased her hardened nipple, rolling and pinching it, which caused a shiver to run through her body, the girl's breathing turning into short, shallow gasps.
"Alastor... please..."
Alastor chuckled, the vibration rumbling against her, causing her to mewl in response. He withdrew his tongue, and the whine of displeasure his victim emitted was music to his ears.
"Pleading usually doesn't work well with me, little one."
She huffed, her fingers gripping the sheets harder.
"Don't... don't play around... shit. How are you so good at this?"
Oh, was she complimenting him, now? How sweet, even in the middle of her undoing, with short breath and clouded eyes. Alastor laughed, sucking teasingly on her swollen nub which elicited a soft gasp from her.
"Flattery on the other hand will get you far with me, darling."
And with that, he returned his tongue where she desired it most, but this time, with most of her blood already consumed, he focused his attention more on how she reacted to him. His hands went back to her hips, holding them steady while he lapped her up, her muscles twitching at his now tactically placed licks and calculated sucking. Soon enough, her body began to tremble, her whimpers grew louder and louder, her breathing turning irregular and harsh, her voice growing desperate, her hands burying themselves in his hair, almost desperately avoiding the sharp ends of his enlarged antlers.
"Oh, oh my god, fuck! I'm-", the girl's back arched, a silent cry on her lips, and she came with a last rush of hot liquid and a tight clench around his tongue. Alastor felt a new surge of satisfaction rush through him, a feeling of victory as he licked her through the waves of her orgasm.
For a moment, both stayed quiet and unmoving, the static buzzing in his ears calming down. He took a moment to savor the aftermath of the moment, the sweet, warm taste still lingering on his tongue, her blood on his chin, and the girl lying in front of him - panting and sweating and thoroughly ravished. Alastor found a strange beauty in her flushed figure, in the way her breath heaved, in the pink tints of her skin where he had touched her. With the monster inside satiated, he found himself still craving, not for blood, but for her. The way her eyes had met him, with no fear or contempt, how she slowly came undone by his doing, her voice crying out for and to him, sweet and melodious - He wanted to hear it again. He needed to hear it again.
"Better now, dearest?", he asked, licking his lips to collect the few dried streaks of blood that stained his lips and chin. The girl sighed, a slight smile forming on her lips.
“That...", she began, a small smile on her lips, "that was something. Definitely better. And the pain's not that bad anymore, too."
Alastor chuckled quietly, his hands trailing the insides of her thighs. "Indeed, dear. Although I'm not sure if this was enough to really sate me. It was but a mere appetizer, you see."
His hand found its way between her legs, a single digit slowly circling the oversensitive skin around her clit. She shuddered at the touch, her breath hitching. Her eyes flickered between him and the room as she laughed nervously.
"Ummm, I think you kind of sucked me high and dry, so..."
Her rambling instantly stopped as he crawled onto the bed and over her, pulling his bow tie off in a single movement before he caged her, his lips just hovering above hers.
"Mmmh, the main course doesn't have to be that bloody, darling. I found myself to be quite hungry for a more traditional entree."
He didn't leave her a chance to reply, a chance to refuse - his mouth pressed against hers with a bruising force, tongue slipping past her lips and teeth. Alastor knew she was able to taste the traces of her own blood, and he couldn't help but moan softly as he felt her reciprocating his kiss, slinging her arms around his neck to draw him closer.
A wave of static flooded over him, his body humming with energy. He wasn't sure if it was the ambiguity of the deal they made, or if it was the taste of her, her blood, her arousal or her lust. Whatever it was, Alastor knew one thing for certain – he wasn't ready to let go of it just yet, eager to satisfy the sudden, strange curiosity that had awakened in him.
"Such an eager little thing."
With a quick movement, he pulled his shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room. With nimble fingers and an amazed expression, her hands wandered over the soft fur on his shoulders to his chest, leaving hot trails of her own heat behind.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing...", she breathed with a playful smile, her legs parting to allow his hips to settle in between. The gesture was subtle, yet not missed by Alastor. He could feel the growing heat emanating from her, could see her pupils dilating as she looked up at him.
"It seems I have to retract my previous statement about knowing my proclivities..." Alastor mused, his smile widening as he sat up to open his trousers, his eyes not leaving hers as she shuffled out of her shirt. "You seem to know I like my food adequately spicy..."
With the pants discarded, he lowered himself again, leaning his weight on his hands on each side of her head while skin touched skin. The feeling of another naked body so close to his own bare one was foreign, but Alastor didn't feel the repulsion the thought always brought out. On the contrary, he felt a strange kind of excitement, anticipation almost, a sensation that was so new to him, it was nothing less than thrilling. She chuckled at his remark, a sound that became all the sweeter when she gasped as he tentatively pushed his cock along her slit.
"You... ah, you really love food metaphors, don't you?", she groaned, her hips jerking at the contact, her voice trembling with need. He smirked, grinding against her, watching her writhe under him, the friction between their bodies and the way her nails dug into his skin sending sparks of electricity through his body.
"Mhh... maybe. Food is my preferred source of pleasure, after all."
Alastor could feel her wetness on him, and his patience was consequently running thin. With one last push, his lips met hers once more, the kiss deep and fierce. His hips bucked, the tip of his member pushing through the folds of her core. His breath hitched, and his mind blanked.
"Well then, little one. Shall we continue our dinner together?"
Alastor couldn't recall ever having felt something quite like this as he entered her fully, the intense heat and tightness, the sensations her body elicited, the reactions he got out of her, not to mention all the ways his own body was reacting to the stimulation. It was a feast of different flavors, a banquet of new sensations, and Alastor relished in all of it.
She cried out, her nails digging into the fur of his shoulders as he pushed inside her, stretching her out slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust, a courtesy he didn't expect himself to grant her. But then again, he thought, he didn't expect to ever end up in this situation in the first place.
When he was completely sheathed, he stilled, letting himself get used to the strange and overwhelming sensation. He was still grinning, but his mouth was slightly agape, his breath uneven. He looked down at her, and to his surprise, his heart skipped a beat.
She was absolutely beautiful.
Her chest was heaving, arms laid sprawled above her head as she looked up at him with her glowing eyes half-lidded. Her skin glistened in the dim light, sparkling moist with a thin coat of sweat, the color of her cheeks a wonderful rosy shade.
Beautiful.
His mind had stopped working properly, it seemed, the only thoughts being the overwhelming urge to move and the wish to see more of this side of her, hear more of her moans and sighs, feel more of her twitching neediness, just more, MoRe, MORE.
His hips bucked, causing him to pull back a little, before he pushed back into her with a slow, steady rhythm. He could feel her walls tighten and pulse around him, her sinful cries echoing through the room, each thrust forcing out more and more of those lovely noises, his name on her lips a melody that was his alone.
"Al... Alastor.. Ah, Alastor!", she cried, her head thrown back and eyes closed, the arch of her neck alluringly inviting. Alastor couldn't resist, he leaned down, pressing his lips against the soft, smooth skin. His tongue darted out, licking and tasting her. He groaned as his teeth grazed her pulse point, and the urge to bite down resurfaced.
"Say it again."
The girl blinked, dazed from her haze of pleasure, mouth agape and heavily panting. A growl escaped his throat, the desire to sink his teeth in her becoming hard to ignore. "My name, say it."
"Alastor...", she moaned, throwing her head back in a wanton cry, exposing her throat even more like it was an invitation. This, he decided, was the ultimate form of possession, a sound that was exclusively his to hear, his own symphony to command. He was the conductor of her pleasure, the one who brought her to a climax, the one she desired. The thought drove him crazy, and his pace picked up as he strained himself preventing his teeth to break her skin.
He felt her hand in his hair, her fingers curling against his scalp. She tilted her head, looking at him through half-closed lids, her gaze meeting his with a soft nod. "It's... It's okay... Bite me."
His control broke as the words rolled of her lips.
With a relieved growl he bit down, his teeth piercing the flesh of her shoulder. The metallic, coppery flavor filled his mouth as well as his senses, his hips never ceasing their movements, fucking into her with vigor, a newfound desperation and hunger for her taking hold of him. He heard her scream, a sound of sweet pain and desperate ecstasy, of pure lust and desire and longing, and with a final thrust, she came once again, her cunt tightening painfully around him, squeezing his length so intensely his own release rippled through him, and he spent himself inside her in a few powerful spurts.
He rode out his own orgasm with a few more weak, uncoordinated thrusts, his mouth still attached to her shoulder. Alastor groaned as he withdrew his teeth, licking at the blood that welled up from the small puncture wounds. The taste was still there, still perfect, the essence that had him so crazed the last days now flowing through his system in its raw, unrefined, and potent glory.
He collapsed on top of her, his nose pressed against the crook of her neck. Her heartbeat was strong and rapid, a melody to his ears, her heavy breathing slowly calming down. Alastor felt her fingers tracing his skin, a strangely soothing motion.
"Wow.", she breathed, Alastor felt his grin widen, and a small, content laugh bubbled out of him. He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at her.
"My sentiments exactly, darling. I do believe the food was exquisite."
She rolled her eyes laughing, her hand wandering to the side of his face, a gesture he graciously allowed. Her fingers ghosted over the corner of his mouth, where a small trail of blood had remained. A smirk tugged on the corners of his mouth, his gaze flickering between her eyes and the finger as she wiped away the remnants of her blood. She raised the finger, her smile mirroring his and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
"But, you know, I always like to end my dinner with..."
Before he could say anything, her finger disappeared in her mouth, her lips wrapping around the digit as she sucked on it, licking the blood off of it. His eyes widened in disbelief, the girl giggling as she released her finger from her lips with a pop.
"...dessert."
Alastor laughed.
He laughed, loud and bright, the kind of genuine laughter he hadn't had in ages. Alastor felt alive, an elation running through him, as if he had the world and its possibilities right within his fingertips. The look she gave him – a wide smile and soft yet impishly playful eyes – felt more exhilarating than a well-made kill could have.
It seemed his greatest, most troubling hunger couldn't be satiated for good – no, Alastor grinned, a smile that would have raised many alarms in an observing witness.
Perhaps he needed more variety to his diet, after all.
|Masterlist| Ao3|
NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor|
Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader
Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting
Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake.
Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.
“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.”
Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least.
The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last.
Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl.
TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.
Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down.
Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot.
I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov.
Update: *6/19/2024
We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.
“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”
Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”
And oh…oh.
(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)
The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”
“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”
A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”
Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”
“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”
“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”
Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”
“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”
He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”
Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.
There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.
“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.
Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask.
Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”
Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.
There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.
You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.
“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”
“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”
“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”
Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”
There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”
“Would you?”
“I would.”
“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger.
“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”
“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”
“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”
Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”
You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”
Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.
The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.
Except from those who really pay attention.
Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake.
Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.
“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”
Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.
Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.
You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband. (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.
Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.
The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.
Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”
“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.
Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”
Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.
You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.
One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.
There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him
“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say. “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”
Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.
With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.
You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.
“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”
“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”
“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”
You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”
“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”
“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”
Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”
“Then drink it.”
“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.
From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.
Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.
It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.
“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”
Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”
Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.
“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”
You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.
Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”
“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”
“Of course.”
Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.
It’s great that Vox took more than one.
He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”
“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”
Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.
You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”
At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.
Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.
“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”
Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.
Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”
Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.
A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”
“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.
“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”
A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”
“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”
She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.
Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.
The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”
His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”
“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.
“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them. He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”
Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.
Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.
Although… It's a bit weird.
The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.
Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)
Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.
Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.
A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”
“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”
The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”
Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.
You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.
Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”
“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.
“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”
You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”
“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”
“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”
The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.
That looks fun.
It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.
You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”
Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”
“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”
Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”
You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”
Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”
“I know what I said.”
His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”
“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”
“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”
Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her.
That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.
Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.
Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.
“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.
There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.
Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.
“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”
Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.
“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”
Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”
“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”
Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”
“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”
“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”
“May I interrupt?” There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.
Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.
Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”
He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.
Alastor squeezes your hand.
You squeeze back.
His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.
The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.
“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”
Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”
“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”
“I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”
You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”
Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”
“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”
Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”
“Should I really?”
“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”
The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.
Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.
You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”
Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”
The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze. The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.
The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.
Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”
“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”
“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”
“That’s good.”
“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”
“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”
“For the next two weeks.”
Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.
His bowtie is crooked.
You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.
Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.
You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.
Game on, bitch.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife.
Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste.
This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be
Apologies, first time asking for anything. But what about usually touch avoidant Alastor being intrigued by reader and he begins touching them more and more often that others begin noticing. When called out, he starts doing it more privately but maybe more intimately…? (Just to figure out how he feels about it of course).
Can end however you’d like but I just thought it’d be funny to have confused Alastor and flustered reader. 😅
*little snippet of the idea*
“Well aren’t you pretty as a picture?” He asked lowly. You rolled your head to the side allowing his clawed fingers to reach further. You moaned lightly as his claws scrapped against your scalp, a small line of drool falling from your lips as he continued his slow intoxicating scratches.
“Oh, now that isn’t a sound I would’ve expected to hear from this.” He says chuckling.
You buried your face in his thigh, turning to your growing blush as well as release more of your hair so he could move to another part as he continued his lazy caresses.
“I would’ve expected this more from Husker. But you, you are desperate for some affection aren’t you?” He crooned before his fingers wound on your hair and gave a gentle tug.
You felt your eyes water slightly and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you fought back another low sound. That simple action had changed the simple pleasure to one of a much….darker more interesting one in you and you felt the stirrings of excitement begin to look in your stomach.
“Alastor.” You whimper softly, your eyes closed.
The hand holding your hair opens quickly and you slump down slightly as he released you unexpectedly until you tilt your face up to catch his eyes confused. His smile was seemingly frozen in place as his expression seemed mildly confused.
You blushed realizing what had happened and moved to push yourself off his lap. “I-Im sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ you begin saying before his hand moves to between your shoulder blades and he pushes you down firmly to keep your head in his lap.
“Hush.” He says harshly. His grin more of a snarl now. “I did not say anything to indicate I was done. I was merely….caught off guard.” He said, his tone softening as he spoke. His fingers returned to your head as he resumes slowly carding his claws through the locks gently. His ministrations entrancing as he intermittently scratched, rubbed, or pulled lightly at the strands. “Such a curious little creature.” He murmured as his claws trailed towards your ear. “So easily controlled…far too trusting.” He says as he catches the hair behind your ear in his grip pulling at it gently causing you to gasp.
His grip tightens before he pulls you up to look at him. “You’d allow me to do whatever I pleased to you, wouldn’t you?” He asked lowly, the static overlay on his voice thick. You nodded quickly, tears pricking your eyes at the painful grip in your hair.
But his responding smile eased you slightly before he relaxed his grip allowing you to return to his lap.
“Good girl.”
HELLO ANON FIRST I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THAT THE SNIPPET WAS BEAUTIFUL I SCREAMED WHEN I READ IT 😭
Next: I hope this fits what you were looking for!! I decided to keep it mostly fluffy with some suggestiveness 💕🫶
When Alastor first meets you he doesn’t seem to know what to think of you- another cat demon roaming the streets of Hell that has found its way to the Hotel to join the Princess’ cause, surely. He eyes you similarly to how one might keep a cautious eye on a new pet- just sort of waiting to see what you would do. You watch him watch you across rooms and lobbies, keeping his distance, never getting too close.
Until one day when you’re making tea in the kitchen and he drops a hand on your head, trailing his claws lightly across your scalp like he’s petting you. You drop your cup in shock, and it shatters on the floor as you whirl around, the light dusting of fur lining your arms on end, teeth bared. You force yourself to calm down when you notice its just him, and when you ask him what he was doing he replies, “oh, just sating my curiosity! You looked so fluffy, I simply couldn’t resist.”
But he does it again. And again. Just tiny touches here and there, a hand brushed against your ears, a finger stroking down your tail- you think once you might have imagined that he pushed the pads on the paws of your feet while you slept on a lobby couch. He always sites intrigue as his reasoning for touching you, like he’s testing the waters for… something. He doesn’t deign to tell you what, of course, just emits his staticky little hum after every instance and goes about his day, unaware of the hammering of your heart, the instinctive desire to lean further into his touch. He does it everywhere, almost every day, and despite there almost always being other people in the room no one ever says anything about it.
Then Angel catches you.
Well, catches isn’t the right word- you weren’t doing anything wrong, or scandalous. But when Alastor drifts his hand over your head at the bar one night, a soft scratch behind your ears that makes you smile dreamily, the spider whistles high and loud. “Damn, Smiles, I thought ya didn’t like physical contact! Scratchin’ kitten here behind her ears, this is downright pornographic for you!”
Alastor stiffened at the words, a short burst of static screeching through the air before he vanished, dipping into shadows without another word. Your heart sank and you shot Angel a glare before letting Husk serve you something sweet and tasty that makes your cheeks heat and your limbs loose and tingly.
You ran into Alastor on your way back to your room, and when you lowered your head and made to sneak past him he dropped his hand on your head and scratched behind your ears again, this time placing a hand on your arm to guide you to lean against the wall while he did so. “Perhaps it would be best,” he says lowly, eyes lidded looking down at you, “if we kept this to move private instances, hm? I find that my curiosity is not yet sated, but I don’t relish the idea of others making comments on what should be kept between us. What do you think?”
You would have agreed to anything to keep his claws rubbing at that sweet spot behind your ears, but all you could do was nod, soft enough that his hand isn’t dislodged. “Lovely,” he murmurs, and rubs the thin skin of your ear between two of his fingers. You can’t stop the rumble of your chest as you purr a little at that, and his amused chuckle makes your face heat. “Let’s get you to bed, darling.” He leads you to your bedroom door and drops a kiss on the back of your hand before he fades into the shadows again.
And then he doesn’t touch you at all.
For two weeks.
No hands that brush against your skin or through your fur or across your tail. He sits away from you whenever he can, and when you do manage to snag a seat next to him on occasion he claims he has elsewhere to be and disappears, leaving you upset and twitchy every time. You hadn’t realized how much you had come to enjoy those touches from him, even if he was just doing it to see how he felt about it. You had never noticed him touching anyone else- it had made you feel a little like you were special. But he was avoiding you now, his hands a safe distance away like he was with everybody else.
You lament about it to Husk at the bar one night, a couple drinks in- thinking that, as a cat, he might relate to the touch-starved feeling you were experiencing- before he finally cuts you off and shoos you away, complaining that “I don’t need t’be hearin’ that shit, go bitch to him about it.” You take his advice and slowly make your way up the stairs, only getting lost in the halls twice before you remember where Alastor’s room is and knock lightly on the door.
It takes him so long to answer you almost leave, tail swishing dejectedly on the floor until the door opens and Alastor’s ears perk up at the sight of you. “Hello, dear! What brings you my way so late this evening?”
“Oh, I was just… I don’t know really, I’m-” You cut yourself off, looking down at the floor in sudden, burning shame, ears flattening on your head. “This was stupid, I’m gonna go.”
You’re halted in your turn to leave by a claw-tipped finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his. “Ahh, I believe I see the issue. Come in, darling, we’ll discuss it.” He takes your hand and leads you into his room, his shadow flicking the door closed behind you.
Alastor settles into his chair by the fire and gestures to the one across from him for you to sit in, eyebrows raising in amusement when, instead of following his gesture you drop to your knees, a whimper escaping as you hit the ground painfully and lean towards him to rest your forehead on his knee. “I see,” he murmurs, and lets his hand brush over your ears, making them twitch. “Heavens, we can’t have this, now, can we? Allow me to rectify the situation for you, dear.” He rubs gently at one of your ears, humming to himself when you tip your head to the side to grant him better access. “I hadn’t realized you felt so neglected- my apologies.”
“It’s fine,” you mutter into the fabric of his slacks. “I didn’t mean t’- ohhh.” Your words devolve into a soft moan when he scrapes his nails against the base of your ears, mouth falling open at the feeling of bliss that it generates.
“Aren’t you just lovely?” He asks, and you can hear the chuckle in his voice. “Who could have guessed a little isolation would put you in such a state- you’re just desperate for some affection, aren’t you?”
“Don’t tease me,” you whisper, eyes clenched shut so you can’t see the expression on his face- one of ridicule, surely. Perhaps this was what he had been curious about- how long it would take before you made a fool of yourself in craving his touch when it was denied after having it freely given for so long.
“Tease you? I would never.” He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls, gently but enough that your head comes up from his lap, tilting your face in his direction so he can look at you. Eyes still closed, they water at the tension, the faint ache of it pulling at something deep in the pit of your abdomen, twisting the pleasure from something soft into a dangerous, carnal thing.
“A-Alastor,” you whimper softly, hands coming up from where they’ve been pressed into the floor to grip at the fabric of his slacks, wrap around his calf with a gentle grasp. His hand releases immediately, your hair slipping through the fingers and making your head fall limp for a moment before you catch yourself. When you look up at him his smile is tense, brows cocked in a way that implies he’s confused about something and you realize your mistake- you take your hands off him immediately, starting to pull your body away from his. “God I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
Alastor reaches for you again, cups your cheek in one hand and brings his other over to twist back into your hair, gently guiding you back down to put your head back in his lap. “Nonsense,” he says, his tone a little rougher now before he clears his throat and looks down at you, something reminiscent of fondness tinting his expression. “I reacted in a manner I didn’t expect- you did nothing wrong.” He lets his clawed fingers card softly through your hairs, scratching and rubbing against your scalp in the most delightful way, making you shiver against him. The hand cupping your cheek brushes a thumb against your face and you lean into it. “So responsive. So trusting.” His voice lowers again, his grip in your hair tightening a fraction before he eases the pressure, resumes his soft stroking of you. “I think I could do just about anything right now and you’d be pleased as punch to allow me, wouldn’t you, dearest?”
“Yes,” you mumble, only half listening to what he’s saying as he continues to touch you, caressing your head and ears and neck with the soft brushes of his fingers and claws. It's lovely, the way that you feel right now- weightless, carefree, taken care of. Why had he stopped for so long? What had you done wrong? “Please,” you say, not really sure what you’re asking for, but ready to beg if needed.
“Ah, good girl,” he says with a soft smile. “We’ll save all that for another evening, hmm? I think you need some sleep for the time being- join me up here, darling.” He uses his hand on your head to guide you up from the floor, standing from the armchair as you do and releasing your hair to slide his arms under your legs and back, lifting you in his embrace. He deposits you onto his sheets, pulling the covers over you. “We’ll talk in the morning- rest well.”
When he moves to step away your hand darts out to grab his wrist- a weak gesture, but enough to halt him in place. “Please stay,” you ask him, not willing to let the touch go quite yet after having been denied for so long.
“I suppose if you insist.” Alastor huffs a sigh but acquiesces, a tendril of shadow reaching across the room to drag his armchair closer to the bed. He takes a seat and resumes his gentle stroking of your ears, occasionally letting his hand run down to brush over your shoulders and the end of your tail where it’s flicking out from under the covers. “Now sleep, dear- sweet dreams.”
You drift off to the soft sensation of his hands on you, Alastor’s staticky hum lulling you into an easy sleep.
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Pairings: Adam x Reader
Warnings: None!
TLDR: It doesn't rain in Heaven, but sometimes all you need is that one, special person, and maybe, fake rain isn't so bad after all.
Wow, would you look at that? A non-Alastor post! I'm surprised as well, but this is for the biggest Adam simp ever @redvexillum. You feed me Alastor, and I feed you Adam. It's a mutualistic relationship. Enjoy my short one-shot. I would make this longer but if I keep writing I might have to go into overtime. I only spent like an hour or two of this, don't judge too hard. I have yet to achieve god level of writing
It doesn’t rain in Heaven – maybe, it should, honestly.
There’s something comforting about the soft pitter-patters when droplets hit the roof. Or the drip of cool water down flushed skin. The memories call out for you, teasing you with reminders of days spent under the clouds, hand in hand long before the concept of rings was invented. Most of all, it reminds you of golden-yellow wings.
Association is a weird thing. It doesn’t listen to rationality – it just is.
Maybe, if it rained up here in Heaven, the floods within you would filter out your chest and seep into the clouds and flush down the streets.
You curl your legs closer to your chest, sulking on the park bench. Children’s laughter echo between the trees, and are lifted high up into the clouds. So much happiness in one are—
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Water droplets hit your skin, and slide down your cheek.
It’s . . . raining? That’s impossible. It never rains in Heaven, but here it is, drops of water kissing your face.
“Hey, babe.” There it is – the most beautiful golden-yellow wing. It hovers above you, shielding you from the rain. Adam smiles down at you, standing with such a proud puff as he uses his wing to shield you from the rain. “What’s a fine bitch like you doing out here alone?”
“I wouldn’t be alone if I had my husband with me.” You lean back on the bench, cocking your neck back to look into him. “You’re going to get wet, honey.”
“I know!” Adam laughs, and his wings extend as he does. “But it’s fucking hot—admit it, you’ve always wanted me to do this.”
You beckon him closer, and wipe away drops of water from his helmet with a smile. “How is it even raining, baby?”
“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Adam says. “Rain is a no biggie. For you, I can make it storm.”
“How sweet.” You clutch your heart and swoon into him. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Adam moves his wing, far enough to show you what’s above but still close enough to shield you—nothing more, nothing less. “It doesn’t rain in Heaven,” he says. “But I can bring the rain to you.”
Lute hovers above, a garden hose in her hands. There are three other angels next to her, each with their own garden hose. Lute gives you a thumbs up, and you give one back. Sweethearts. That’s what they are—each and every one of them.
“Baby, you can’t keep using them for personal use,” you say, but still . . . it’s a smile that appears on your lips. “Sera will be furious.”
“Nah, these bitches don’t mind—they love us! And technically, you’re also using them for personal use.” Adam gives them a thumbs up, and they all salute back with a proud puff. “I didn’t find you when I got back from He— uhhhh . . . I came from the house, and I didn’t see you.”
“And your next guess was to go here?”
“I assumed you were moping as usual,” he says, and despite the helmet you can see how he rolls his eyes. “Figured you were here. What are you doing here anyway?”
You show him your brightest smile. “Thinking of divorce.”
Adam’s wing flicks a little. Still, he keeps it above your head to keep your dry from his rain. “Fuck . . .no!” He removes his helmet, and those golden eyes stare straight into you. “I’m not letting you divorce me.”
You press a kiss on his cheek, letting your lips brush him with each word. “And why not?”
“Babe, I’m not letting the baddest bitch in my life leave me.”
“Baby, you disappeared for twenty-four hours again.” You kiss his nose, and a bit of that fake rain transfers back to your lips. “I would have liked a good-bye before you left for wherever it is you go during this time of the year.”
Adam brings his hands under your armpits, and lifts you to stand. He pulls up part of his robe and brings it over your head until you’re snuggled into his clothes and flushed straight into his squishy chest. You can feel the heat of his skin.
Those wings of his hover above, shielding the both of you from the rain he commanded.
“What a stupid fucking thought.” Adam pulls you, setting you on his lap. “Moping because I didn’t say good-bye.”
You lean into his chest, snuggling under his robe. “Baby, you mope when I forget to kiss you good-bye during the mornings.”
“That’s different,” Adam tells you, and leans his chin over your hair. “I’d fucking combust if I don’t get my good-byes. Guts and blood would just be everywhere. It would splatter on some poor fucking kid.”
“What a sight that would be.” You bring your legs up, and curl as deep as you can into him. “ . . . Thank you for the rain. I love it.”
“I’d make a thunderstorm for you if you stop thinking of divorcing me.”
“Me?” You press a kiss on his cheek. “Divorce you? I would never do such a thing.”
Adam brings his arms around your waist. “Fuck off,” he says. “You just said you were thinking about it. This is . . . fuck, what’s it called? . . . You’re gaslighting me!”
“Baby, I was just pulling your leg.” You cup his face, squishing his cheeks as you do. “Who in their right mind would leave you?"
“I can think of a few.”
Adam grabs your chin, and presses his lips straight into you. Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. That’s what happens during twenty-four hours of not seeing each other. It’s like you’ve become newlyweds once more.
He traces the gold ring around your finger. “Marry me?”
You kiss his jaw. “I already did that.”
Adam rolls his eyes, but still . . . he settles his chin on your shoulders and stares straight at the Winners who smile and laugh. There’s a far away look on his face – it’s the same look he gets every single year without fail – and you know he’s thinking of the Sinners down in Hell. Sometimes you forget, those Sinners were his children too.
“Come back to me, baby,” you mumble against his neck, pressing a little kiss. “You’re drifting off to a place I can’t follow. What do you need?"
Adam’s wings flutter a bit, and he presses you deeper into his squish. “Stay with me.”
“Done.” You kiss his cheek. “What else do you need?"
“Keep cooking for me.”
The second kiss goes on his other cheek. “Always.”
“Listen to me play,” he says. “I thought of a new riff. I think you like it.”
“Whenever and wherever.” A kiss to the nose.
It’s funny to see him scrunch his nose a little. It’s not often he takes off his helmet in public, but you’re not going to complain. Not when there’s that boyish grin spread across his lips. “Love me.”
“I do.” You press one, single kiss on his lips. “Always and forever.”
It doesn’t rain in Heaven, and it never will. Gone are the days of those grey clouds, and the sound of the droplets during the night. But . . . maybe, it wasn’t the rain you were chasing because despite garden hoses flinging water above you, you’re perfectly happy.
