<< First || < Previous || AU Masterpost || Next >>
<< First || < Previous || AU Masterpost || Next >>
And yet again i'm speedrunning all 5 pages in one night day instead of drawing it in normal time over days.
ALASTOR FINALLY KNOWS HOW HE'S GONNA GET OUT AND IS SO HAPPY ABOUT IT! What he's planning? You'll learn soon.
AND CARMILLA LORE DROP LIKE ACTUALLY? A LITTLE BIT? A little bit of explanation, my headcanon that Carmilla ended up in hell couple decades before Alastor. And got reunited with her family AND THAT WASN'T A GOOD THING, because head of the family was some old af ancestor of her, and he of course was abusive as well. So yeah, Carmilla didn't have it good in her first years in hell. Was she specifically SAed? I will not confirm nor deny it. But this is why she's able to catch so easily red flags of someone going through abuse. At first just vibes, then more specific details.
But YOU. HAVE. NO FUCKING IDEA HOW MUCH I'M HOLDING MYSELF FROM DOING ANOTHER BONUS PART where Alastor has a severe mental breakdown and makes some poor desicions that only worsen it. And another part where Vox is actually being nice and sweet and it almost looks like that their relationships may not be as bad and may actually work. Almost. And another part where Vox notises the signs of Al's depression, gets conserned, but not enough to understand what that means and accidentally triggers a flashback for Alastor... and so many more. After all, they still have to live through [purposefuly obscured amount of time] of their "partnership", before Alastor finally gets out. Also bonus parts of their first year before sex, and how Alastor tries to keep living right after, and the pre-deal part of them talking after the bar scene... so. fucking. many. ideas. HELP. but i really wanna make the breakdown one. Someone even said that it hit harder than part 13, which i don't really see, BUT STILL.
YALL GET SEE IT ONE DAY I PROMISE, I just wanna get to the ending as soon as possible, because damn. this been going on MUCH longer than i expected. I mean, first draft had just 65 pages, and this part was supposed tobe like at page 35 or something. And because of how long it's going we're all getting little bit tired of it, including me.
Also, hey, the pride month started and I ACTUALLY HAD ANOTHER COMIC PLANNED FOR IT?? I promise the one i'm planning IS SHORT, LIKE AROUND 20 PAGES, and it's about origin of one of my weirdly specific Alastor headcanons, and it's for pride month because it's kinda starts from something on the topic of aceness, and the counsil (discord) decided that it fits the pride month lol. SO I NEED TO FINISH THIS COMIC ASAP!!!!!!!!!!
AU Masterpost
If you read from a reblog, check the original post/masterpost, there may be a link to a new part. Or may not.
Tag list under cut, if you want to be added/removed from the list, lmk in the comments! For tag to work you need to allow people tag you in your settings.
Content: light fluff, smut with a bit of a plot, p in v, (alastor receiving) oral, fingering
Summary: The two of you were trapped in marriages arranged by your parents, though neither you nor Alastor could stand your spouses. One evening, after a pair of explosive fights drove you both to your breaking points, causing you search for comfort in each other, only for everything to change that night.
Word count: 3,283 words 18,928 characters
⪻────𖤓────⪼
You and Alastor had been inseparable since childhood, tethered together despite your parents' constant warnings that he was a dangerous influence. However, the moment you turned eighteen, they took more control. They handed you over to a man they had chosen for you, a man you utterly despised.
By some cruel twist of fate, Alastor was trapped in the exact same cage, bound to a woman he hated just as much. Society expected you both to play the parts of perfect, obedient spouses, but behind closed doors, your lifelong bond remained unbroken.
Your breaking point came on a humid evening. Your husband, John, had just launched into a cruel tirade, cursing you out simply because you were resting instead of serving him dinner. For the first time, something inside you snapped. You stood your ground, looking him dead in the eye, and told him you were tired of him and his bullshit.
Being the arrogant fool he was, John sneered and told you to pack your things and get out. You didn't hesitate. You left happily, the front door slamming behind you.
You went straight to Alastor’s house, but as you approached, the front door flew open. His wife came storming out, shrieking a string of ridiculous, dramatic insults into the night air.
Ducking behind a nearby bush, you waited out the storm until she finally climbed into a cab and sped away.The street fell quiet again.
Slipping out from the shadows, you walked up the porch steps to Alastor’s firmly shut door.
You knocked softly, your voice a gentle contrast to the night's chaos. "Alastor?"
The latch clicked, and the door swung open in a matter of seconds.
"Y/N?" Alastor asked. He looked down at you, his sharp features softening with a flicker of genuine concern. It was far too late for a casual visit, yet he didn't hesitate to step aside, inviting you into the warmth of the foyer.
"Hi…" you murmured, stepping past him. You slipped off your coat and hung it on the familiar wooden rack. "I saw what just happened…"
Alastor let out a heavy, uncharacteristic laugh. "Ah, yes. I told her I wanted a divorce."
Your eyes widened… You were shocked, but it made sense. He had always told you bad things about her.
"Really?," you said softly, walking over to the living room and sinking into the cushions of his couch.
He followed you as he nodded, sitting down close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. He tilted his head, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you here, dear?"
"I finally snapped," you admitted, a small, victorious smile tugging at your lips. "He told me to pack my things and get out."
Alastor’s signature grin widened, sharp and full of genuine pride. "That's my girl."
The words made your heart flutter, sending a familiar thrill through your chest. He always had a way of dropping those little phrases.. casual, yet heavy enough to make your breath hitch.
Seeking the comfort you had been starved of for years, you leaned over and let your head rest against his lap.
His hands moved into your hair instantly. It was a well-worn routine between you. For months, the two of you had carved out these secret moments behind your spouses' backs, retreating to his living room just to talk, to breathe, and to remember who you were.
You shifted, turning your face upward to look into his eyes. "Why have we settled for bad lovers for so long?"
"Because we are nice… in a way," He replied, his long fingers carding through your hair with gentleness. "We try to see the good in people, even when they do absolutely nothing to deserve it."
You let out a soft, breathy laugh, the absurdity of it all washing over you. "I think we're just idiots."
Alastor’s laugh joined yours, a warm, resonant sound that filled the quiet room. As the laughter faded, a deeply comfortable silence settled over the two of you.
With your head still in his lap, your mind drifted back to the cold reality of your marriage. John hadn't kissed you, hugged you, or had sex with you in ages. Every single time you had tried to walk away in the past, he would weaponize your own guilt, spinning a web of words until you finally crawled back. But tonight was different.
You looked back up, locking eyes with him. "I think I'm going to divorce John."
"You should," Alastor said, his voice dropping to a rare, serious tone. "You deserve far better than what he has given you."
You hummed softly in agreement and sat up, the lingering anger from the fight still boiling deep in your chest, mixing with a sudden adrenaline.
You turned to look at him, and found him already watching you. The silence between you grew thick. You studied the sharp lines of his face, the intensity in his gaze, and before your mind could even process the thought, you leaned in. Your lips pressed against his.
Alastor didn’t hesitate. His lips met yours with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine, his body twisting toward you.
One hand slid to the nape of your neck, while the other cradled your cheek. When you broke away for air, gasping, he didn’t let you go far. His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging you back in with a low hum that vibrated against your mouth.
The kiss deepened, messy and desperate, the kind of kiss you’d both been denied for years. His teeth grazed your lower lip, and you shuddered, gripping the front of his shirt.
“Y/N,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you..”
You surged back into the kiss before doubt could creep in, your fingers tightening in his hair. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his pulse thundering under your fingertips where they brushed his neck.
Then, you pulled away just enough to shift forward, swinging one leg over his lap until you were straddling him, knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his thighs. The hitch in his breath was soft, his hands flying to your hips like they were drawn there by instinct.
Alastor’s lips trailed down from your mouth, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of your jaw, then lower, under your ear. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, just enough to make you gasp, before his mouth moved lower again, tracing the line of your throat.
His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave marks, and you arched into him instinctively, craving more. But you refused to let your hips rock forward, no matter how badly they ached to.
If this was happening, you wanted him to guide you. To choose this without hesitation.
His grip shifted suddenly, one hand sliding around to the small of your back, pressing firmly until your hips rolled forward against his.
The friction drew a ragged gasp from your throat, swallowed immediately by his mouth as he kissed you again, deep and claiming.
You could feel him, hard beneath you, and the way his hips lifted ever so slightly to meet yours sent heat pooling low in your stomach. Your breath came in short, uneven pants against his lips, your fingers twisting tighter into his hair as if you could pull him even closer.
When he finally broke the kiss, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes flickered down to your parted lips, then lower, lingering on the rapid rise and fall of your chest.
Without hesitation, you reached for the hem of your blouse, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before tossing it aside. His gaze traced the newly exposed skin with a reverence that made your skin prickle, his fingers flexing against your hips as if resisting the urge to touch.
Then, with deliberate slowness, his hands glided up your sides, the warmth of his palms searing through the thin fabric of your bra. His thumbs brushed the underside of your breasts, drawing a shiver from you before his arms wrapped fully around your back.
The clasp gave way under his practiced fingers, and the moment the straps slipped from your shoulders, he pulled you against him, bare skin meeting the soft fabric of his shirt. His exhale was unsteady against your collarbone, lips trailing along the curve of your shoulder as if memorizing the feel of you.
Your fingers trembled slightly as they worked the buttons of his shirt. The fabric parted beneath your touch, revealing the lean muscle beneath, the faint scars of the life you knew so well.
Alastor didn’t move to help, didn’t rush you; he simply watched, his breath uneven, as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders. It pooled around his elbows before falling to the floor, forgotten.
Your hands roamed then, tracing the ridges of his collarbones, the dip of his sternum, the lines of his abdomen. His skin was warm under your touch, and when you leaned in to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along his throat, his pulse jumped beneath your lips.
You slid off his lap slowly, your legs unsteady, and stood. He followed without hesitation, sliding his pants down before letting his hands meet the waistband of your skirt.
There was no pause, no question.. just the quiet understanding that neither of you wanted to stop. The fabric whispered against your thighs as he pushed it down, letting it puddle at your feet. His palms skimmed up your bare legs, rough calluses catching against your skin, before he pulled you against him.
Alastor backed you into the nearest wall, his hands tangling in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The plaster was cool against your bare back, a sharp contrast to the feverish warmth of his chest pressed against yours.
His hips pinned you there, the hard length of him pressing insistently against your thigh, and you arched into him with a breathless moan. One of his hands slid from your hair, trailing down your side to grip your hip, fingers digging in.
Your fingers traced the straining outline of him through the thin fabric of his boxers, relishing the way his hips jerked into your touch. Alastor gasped, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as your palm pressed firmly against him. His breath came in ragged bursts against your collarbone, fingers tightening almost painfully in your hair.
"She never did this for you, did she?" you murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
He shook his head desperately, a whimper escaping his throat when you stroked him again, slow and deliberate.
"Never," he choked out, voice wrecked. "She never-"
His words dissolved into a groan as you slipped your hand beneath the waistband, fingers curling around his bare length. Hot, hard, and already leaking.. just the feel of him sent a pulse of want straight to your core.
You tightened your grip, thumb swiping over the slick head, and his knees nearly buckled.
"Fuck," he hissed, hips stuttering forward into your hand.
His fingers scrambled against the wall beside your head, nails scraping plaster. Every tremor, every choked noise, you cataloged them greedily, drunk on the power of reducing him to this.
His breath hitched when you dropped to your knees, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers. The fabric slid down his thighs, pooling at his feet like an afterthought.
You didn’t hesitate, just leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his thigh, relishing the way his muscles twitched under your lips. His hand fumbled into your hair, tangling tight.
"You don’t have to-" he started, voice rough, but you cut him off with a slow lick up his length, tongue dragging from base to tip.
The groan that ripped from his chest was raw, unfiltered, his hips jerking forward instinctively. You hummed against him, savoring the taste, the weight of him on your tongue, before taking him deeper.
His fingers tightened in your hair, a ragged "Fuck-" escaping him as your lips stretched around him.
You set a punishing pace, hollowing your cheeks, one hand gripping the base of him while the other anchored itself on his hip. His thighs trembled under your palms, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps above you.
Every sound he made, every choked curse, every broken whimper, fueled you, made you take him deeper, until your nose brushed the wiry hair at the base of him. His hips stuttered, his grip bordering on painful, and you pulled back just enough to glance up at him through your lashes.
Alastor’s pupils were blown wide, his lips parted as he stared down at you with something between awe and desperation.
“God, you’re-” His words fractured into a groan when you swallowed around him, your tongue pressing firmly along the underside of his cock.
His hips jerked forward, instinct overriding restraint, and you let him, relaxing your throat as he fucked into your mouth with shallow, uneven thrusts. His hands trembled where they gripped your hair, his breaths coming in ragged bursts.
“Y/N, I’m- fuck, I’m close,” he warned, voice wrecked.
You didn’t pull away. Instead, you hummed around him, the vibration dragging a broken curse from his lips. His fingers tightened, tugging just enough to make your scalp sting, and then he was cumming, his hips stuttering as he spilled down your throat.
You swallowed every drop, your fingers digging into his thighs to steady him as his knees buckled.
When you finally pulled back, licking your lips with deliberate slowness, Alastor slumped against the wall, his chest heaving. He looked utterly undone, hair mussed, lips swollen, his skin flushed from his collarbones to the tips of his ears. His gaze dropped to your mouth, and he shuddered, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you again.
Alastor exhaled sharply, still catching his breath, then pulled you up by your arms. His lips crashed into yours before your feet fully settled on the floor, tasting himself on your tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, fingers gripping his bare shoulders as he backed you toward the couch again.
His hands slid down your sides, pausing only to hook his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear. The fabric barely had time to hit the floor before he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you the last few steps.
The cushions sank under your combined weight as he laid you back, his mouth trailing down your neck while one hand slid between your thighs. His fingers were calloused, rough in a way that made you arch off the couch when they brushed against your clit.
"Fuck, you're soaked," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with disbelief. His touch circled lazily, until your hips bucked upward in frustration.
His fingers dipped lower, sliding through your slickness with agonizing slowness before pressing inside without warning. You gasped, back arching off the couch as he stretched you, his thumb circling your clit in a relentless pace.
"Alastor-" you choked out, nails scraping down his bare chest.
His name sounded like a plea, a prayer, and he grinned before curling his fingers just right. The sensation punched a ragged moan from your throat, your hips jerking against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured, watching your face with predatory focus.
His lips traced your jaw, teeth nipping at the tender skin beneath your jaw as his fingers moved faster, deeper. Every thrust dragged another sound from you.. whimpers, gasps, his name fractured into pieces.. until your thighs trembled around his wrist.
Then, just as the tension coiled unbearably tight in your stomach, he withdrew his fingers entirely.
Your whine of protest was cut off when he shifted between your legs, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
"Look at me," he ordered, voice rough. "Look at me while I'm inside you."
Your eyes snapped open, meeting his darkened gaze just as he moved forward, filling you in one smooth thrust.
The moment he buried himself inside you, the world narrowed to the heat of his body, the press of his hips against yours, the ragged hitch of his breath against your lips.
You gasped, fingers scrambling against his shoulders as he held himself still, letting you adjust, though the wild look in his eyes betrayed how little patience he had left.
"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, his forehead dropping to yours. "You feel-"
You rolled your hips experimentally, cutting him off with a choked groan. His hands tightened on you instantly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pulled back slowly before thrusting back in.
The stretch burned in the best way, the fullness stealing your breath, and when he did it again, harder this time, you arched off the couch with a cry.
His rhythm was relentless from the start, deep, punishing strokes that had you seeing stars within seconds.
Every snap of his hips drove a gasp from your lips, your nails carving crescents into his shoulders as you clung to him. The air between you grew thick with the sounds of skin against skin, of ragged breaths and choked moans, the couch creaking beneath you with each thrust. Alastor’s lips found yours again, swallowing your whimpers as his pace grew erratic, his control fraying at the edges.
You could feel it when he tipped over the edge, his muscles locking, his rhythm stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrated against your collarbone. His release pulsed inside you, hot and dizzying, and the sensation alone dragged you over with him.
Your back arched off the cushions as pleasure ripped through you, hot and consuming, your cry muffled against his shoulder as you trembled beneath him.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Alastor’s breath against your neck, his weight a comforting press as your limbs slowly stopped shaking.
Then, with a quiet, satisfied hum, he rolled onto his back, taking you with him until you were sprawled across his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your spine, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.
His fingers stilled against your spine, pressing to anchor you there against him. You didn’t want to break whatever this was, this fragile, perfect thing you’d stumbled into.
"You should stay," Alastor murmured eventually, his voice rough with sleep and something deeper. His thumb traced the curve of your shoulder absently, like he was memorizing the shape of you. "Not just tonight.."
Your breath caught, not just at the words, but at the way he said them. Not a question, not a plea. A statement, firm and unshakable, like he’d already decided for you.
You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his gaze. The usual sharpness in his eyes had softened, replaced by something vulnerable.
"Stay?" you echoed.
Alastor’s fingers tightened against your hip, his gaze unwavering.
"Stay," he repeated, softer. "Move in with me.. Let John feel the weight of what he lost."
Your lips parted, but no words came out. The weight of his offer settled over you.. it seemed too good to be true, yet too real to dismiss. His thumb traced the curve of your hipbone, a silent patience as he waited for an answer.
You nodded, slow and deliberate, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your waist again.
"Okay..," you whispered.
His fingers tightened instantly, pressing into your skin as if he needed to confirm the whole situation was real.
⪻────𖤓────⪼
A/N: hello my darlingsss!! i hope you enjoyed this one even though it's shorter than my last few pieces.. i just felt like writing something smutty. i hope you loved it, and as always, feel free to give me some suggestions in my asks! 🙂↕️🤍
Charlie talks with Husk about something concerning and Lu wakes up to a surprise.
Masterpost
Yeah, now we have a little side plot brewing with Charlie. :>
And Al, yeah I guess he is a bit possessive. :3 What will Lu now do? Will Charlie knock? Will Al wake up? Who knows :D
Sidenote 1#: Husk has sooo many details in his design. Oh my Lucifer! Please forgive me if I forget some. It drove me crazy actuall :D
Sidenote 2#: Al is playing soft piano music rn without lyrics (just if someone is curious)
At this point I also want to thank everyone for your continued support :> I really appreciate the love you give me for my stupid, silly comic!
Timeline:
Right after the battle: Al brings Lu home and tends to his wounds. Both fall asleep.
Next morning: Lu wakes up and finds Al, Charlie barges in and Al takes off into his room and collapses.
Lu fights with his conscience for the whole day and finally checks on Al in the evening.
Evening/Early night: They both have their confrontation, Al has an anxiety attack (which triggers all the radios to short circuit) and Lu heals Al. They talk until they both pass out.
Meanwhile Charlie runs to Husk for information on the busted radios. (Current part)
Next Morning: Lu wakes up and finds,.. someone beside him.
Well, this is just a short reminder how much time has passed, because honestly it's been a few months now since I started this comic and someone might be confused. :>
@cherry-blitz Okay I know I said the next one was going to be all four but I mean… look at these two! They’re so sweet and sleepy! And I wanted to practice backgrounds and shading. So I guess the next drawing will have to be PP Alastor and HGH Alastor so it’s fair.
