faeoffaith - Tumblr blog

faeoffaith · 1 year ago

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 3)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall smut💦

Part 1 - Pretty in Red Part 2 - Liar

So enraptured with Alastor, you forgot how you left work on Saturday. Tommy didn’t forget. And he made sure you remembered. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, your paramour made a habit of helping quicken karma’s balancing act.

「warnings/promises: immediate physical assault (let’s be up front about that), allusions to sexual assaults having happened in the past to non-reader characters, HumanAlastor x FemReader, penetrative sex, Protective Alastor, bruises, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, mentions to coerced prostitution, sex near a corpse (words that have the FBI watching me), stabbing, knife, bad burlesque names, gambling, my own new HC for the Radio Demon’s origins, another deer reference thanks to @n-after-me , chin quivering, Tommy doesn’t know French and it shows, posted early for @jazzmasternot, wrath」

Minors DNI 🤺

Part 3 A tragedy

You walked into the theatre for rehearsals with a pep in your step, body still humming. It was like the usual adrenaline rush Alastor brought couldn't fade this time.

But it did, when Tommy grabbed you by the hair out of your makeup chair and threw you into the wall.

You couldn’t react, head ringing after it left a small indent in the drywall. Unlike before, you didn’t try to stand. Make him work for his second hit. And he did. Leaning down he yanked you off the ground by your arm and dragged you to your feet.

“Do you think you’re funny?” He shook you, you were sure you could feel your brain jostle. It was rhetorical, but you replied anyway.

“No, Tommy.”

“No. Exactly.” He backed you up onto the make up table, head pressed into the mirror. “Mr. Wilson was not happy. He pulled his contribution. I know you don’t have that kind of money. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

His fingers dug into your cheeks, “No.” You genuinely didn’t. He was talking to you like you had been in the loop on whatever it was he had been doing on the side. All of this was as shocking to you as your actions were, apparently, to him.

“You’re gonna take whatever meetings I make until that money is back.” He let go of you and turned to leave but changed his mind. Coming back, he swung his fist and clocked you on the left side of your face.

You didn’t see it, but you heard the other girls running and pulling Tommy off of you, yelling and pleading for him to calm down.

“I worked really hard for you!” He shouted, jerking his shoulders out from under the hands of the other performers. What was he talking about? You hadn’t discussed any of this, asked for any thing from him. “I waited for a high roller for you. Real classy guy. Just wanted a private show! That was it!” He spit, “No, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is welcome now to ask for your time.”

You just held your face, unsure if you had the right makeup to hide the bruise before stage call.

“Well?! Say you’re sorry.”

You considered not saying anything. No response. When you looked at him, you could see the half a dozen other girls staring back at you, just say it. We have to rehearse.

“I’m sorry.” Eyes cast to the floor.

“For what?”

It hurt when you rolled your eyes, “For being ungrateful?”

He shoulder checked a few girls on the way out. A couple came to you.

“He’s got some gambling debt, he’s just using us to get ahead.”

“I have some stuff to cover that up for tonight.”

“He usually cuts us in.”

Tears stung your eyes, you were angry and humiliated. You could work elsewhere, with a little luck. Take a job at a diner out of the area where no regulars would stir up trouble. Maybe leave until Tommy got his debts paid off or whatever was motivating this recent streak of cruelty. But you didn’t want to run away. No one applauded waitresses. Maybe if you made yourself as unattractive as possible, no one would request you. Dirty your teeth, talk about other men, speak crudely.

“What exactly was he talking about?” you asked no one in particular. The girls were quiet for a beat.

“Well ya know, private shows for clients who can afford it.” High pitched and nasal, Florence spoke as she searched her make up station.

“That’s it?” Incredulous.

“Sometimes. You know how it is… woman left alone in a room with a man who has too much money or ego or drink. Doesn’t always stop at a dance.” Minnie had much more experience than you, “It isn’t our jobs. It isn’t normal. But, well, ya heard about New York right? They’re trying to make burlesque outright illegal…”

“Gotta enjoy the art while it’s just misunderstood.” Florence wiped down your mirror before setting her supplies down for you. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

By the time patrons began to stream in, you had blood staining the white of your left eye. Nothing you could do, but maybe at a distance it wouldn’t be noticeable. The bruise under your eye from his fist was easy enough to cover. The contusion from where your right cheek hit the wall was a little harder.

Luckily, the stage offered a buffer of space and the rest of the room was dark.

During your show, you tried to keep your eyes moving so the red sclera never stayed in one place too long. For the first time, the cheers did nothing for you. You felt your chin quiver, fighting back tears. You wanted to scream, to tell them to hate you and leave. Stop fucking clapping.

Ruth was naturally the first to come to you after your performance, “Want me to do the tour with you? Arm in arm around the hall.”

You took her up on the offer. It lightened the load, her taking charge of the conversation when people approached or bought you drinks. Luckily the bartender always poured the performers weak cocktails and watered down liquor to keep their heads on straight.

Ruth’s companionship afforded you precious time to plan, to consider how quickly you could find new work or at least a way out of this.

“What a treat. Two for one. Can I buy you both a drink?”

Ruth turned first to greet the customer, “Ooh yes sir! Gin and tonic, please and thank you. Autumn?” Your stage name drew your attention back to the world, turning finally.

“Alastor.” It fell from your mouth like a lead balloon.

He smiled down at you, his hand offering a little wave, “Hello. Surprise.”

Your face fell, a frown pulling down your chin. It took you too long to recover, batting your eyelashes and turning the corners of your lips up unnaturally.

“So you do have a beau!” Ruth slapped your arm, “I’m Skye, Skye Scraper. Pleasure to meet you, Alastor.” She extended her hand, Alastor planting a kiss on the back of it, concealing his smile at the name.

You tried to keep your eyes on the floor, head turned slightly away from him to obscure the neon sign of an eye shouting, ‘Weak!’

Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t an oblivious man. Unless he was dancing or drunk. “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alastor asked Ruth. Ruth looked to you for your okay, and you just nodded. She gave a little nod of her own to Alastor and slinked away.

“Are you unhappy to see me, dear? Did I overstep by coming by unannounced?” You hadn’t heard him worried before, it pained you.

“No, no! I am… so happy to see you. I just had a long day.” You scanned the room for the darkest area to bring him. A booth would be best, you could keep him on one side of you. You gestured with a nod of your head.

“Ah, I kept you out too late.” Alastor didn’t move.

“Not at all, come on let’s sit down.” You reached back for his hand without looking at him, but when you pulled he still didn’t move. He remembered the way you pulled at the hand of that man in the alley the first night you met. Desperate to escape somewhere.

“Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”

Lie.

“Uh, no, I’m just embarrassed about this heavy stage makeup.”

Alastor paused, hand slipping from yours to adjust his sleeves. It was a nervous action, an attempt to self soothe, but you didn’t know that. “I should have asked before coming.”

“Alastor, it’s not…,” you kept your eyes down at your hands.

“Then look at me.”

Would he think you were incapable of protecting yourself? His pity would kill you. Perhaps he would decide a second rate burlesquer wasn’t worth making time for anymore.

You could intentionally wound him, say you don’t want to see him so he leaves. But that sword was double edged and you weren’t sure you’d survive that either. You weren’t making it out of this.

You finally looked at him. He leaned in, “What happened to your eye?” A slender finger gently tilting your chin upward.

Lie.

You thought too long for an answer. Why were you getting worse at lying? It used to be one of your best shields and swords but now you were so slow on the draw you were left defenseless. Vulnerable. His hand took yours, gently pulling you into the lobby and through the glass doors of the theatre.

Under the bright lights of the marquee and the street lamps, Alastor inspected your face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, wetting it in his mouth before wiping the makeup off of your under eye.

“Alastor, people are staring.”

His eyes fell down, soft hands lifting your arm where a bruise was already formed. You hadn’t noticed that one.

“What happened?” He wasn't looking at you when he said it, instead cautiously wiping the makeup off your cheeks in search of more marks.

“The truth or wh-“

“Always. Never give me anything else.”

You sighed, and explained, “Tommy, the manager, he’s been shifting tactics for bringing in money because he owes some big bads a lot of debt. Private shows with performers that sometimes get hands on…,” his hands stopped moving but his eyes didn’t meet yours, “I never asked to be included in it. I wouldn’t do it. I was rude to a man Tommy introduced me to and I ran off Saturday. Yada Yada. He got me as soon as I got to work.”

Alastor didn’t reply, just turned on his heels and marched back into the theater. You chased after him, “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” You tried to get in front of him but he walked right past you.

“Not about what you need, dear, it's about what he deserves.”

Alastor asked the bartender for Tommy, who pointed to the short but stocky man talking to a group of guests. Alastor approached so quickly Tommy didn’t have time to greet him, instead just backing up until he fell ass first into a booth. Alastor boxed him in, one hand on the wall and one on the table, towering over Tommy as he sat.

“I hear you sell dancers by the night.”

You paced the lobby nervously. Would you be fired? What would Alastor say? Would Tommy hit him, too?

He re-emerged, “Come to my car, please.” He didn't stop walking as he said it.

You followed a few blocks down to his car, parked on the street. He opened the passenger door for you and closed it behind you. You wanted to ask if you were going somewhere, but thought better of it. A tight u-turn, he pulled the car into the side street where you’d first met each other.

Wordlessly he got out of the car, you opening your door before he could. Popping the trunk, he set the folded canvas inside a paper bag. Checking first, he placed it inside one of the tin trash cans.

You stood, waiting for an explanation.

Finally he stopped and made eye contact with you. “You have a date tomorrow, with me. Bring this to the apartment above the theater before Tommy and I arrive.” Opening your mouth to speak, he didn’t stop to let you add anything. “Preferably near the bed.” He closed the trunk, “Wear red, please.”

You searched his face for some kind of discernible emotion but found none. Those constricted pupils again, an animal staring back at you from behind a pair of glasses. There was no reason to ask him, it was obvious what was going to happen. Did you want to stop it?

Did you want to see it? Alastor at work?

“Okay. On all the points.” You looked back at the trashcan, “Canvas hidden near the bed. Wear red.”

“The extra clothes can go anywhere out of sight.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your voice cracked a little, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

He nodded, “I can’t stay here.” Before getting into his car he turned and added, “Don’t cover the bruises tomorrow. He should see them.”

You nodded in return, “Are you doing this for me?” So quiet you almost hoped he didn’t hear it.

He paused, one leg already in the car and his back to you, “No. I’m doing it for everyone.”

You watched his car light up and leave the alley.

It’s not that you felt abandoned, you felt…. Stranded. You had to go back in there, alone, and put on the normal act but under abnormal conditions.

So it was happening. You hadn’t seen the first time. Just felt it. You didn’t see the second. You were going to actually see a man die. Not just a man, someone you knew. Someone you used to consider a friend of sorts. Before he got into whatever trouble was driving him to act like a flesh peddler. Could you do it? Could you watch a man be killed? Was that even what Alastor had planned?

Tommy found you the second you were back in the room, hand pressing too hard on the bruises he left on your arm. “You have a meeting tomorrow after your show. If you don’t show up,” he yanked you close, putrid breath of dead teeth you’d never been bothered by before this moment and bad booze assaulting your senses, “I will fucking kill you.”

You almost started laughing, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your smile. “Okay Tommy.”

Fuck it. He was going to die anyway, might as well make it a date.

Ruth saddled up beside you as soon as Tommy was out of earshot, “Look at that smile. Quickie in the alley?”

Disgust, “Jesus, Skye, I was gone like, 5 minutes.” She shrugged. “Why does everyone think — is everyone fucking their daddies* in the side street?” She nodded. “Well, I’m not.”

“Prude.” She joshed before linking your arm in hers again, “We’ve got at least another hour of schmoozing. Tits up!”

Your smile came effortlessly that night, a thrum of excitement keeping you light on your feet. Not excitement for death, but for the very concept of being closer to Alastor. Would you see it happen, in front of you? Or would he have you leave? Either way, you were an active participant with a task list.

He trusted you, even if in a small way. Trust was so rarely given from the people who mattered. Men trusted you often; to be sweet when they tell you they were embarrassed about something, to lie when they ask if you orgasmed, to not steal their cash when they blacked out with their pants still on. Pulling it from strangers was one of your greatest pleasures. But it was easy. You were skilled.

Yet again, like so often now, Alastor was the exception. He didn’t toss himself at your feet. He stood tall in front of you and on his own terms offered you the things you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure, you didn’t have sit on his lap in silence and nod and laugh. Just yourself, as much as you could allow yourself to exist in the world. No tricks. If his trust was presented wrapped in a bloodied bow, well, you would thank him dearly and wear the ribbon round your neck like a trophy.

Many men spoke to you, but luckily your participation in conversation wasn’t something they really cared about. As they spoke, your eyes were looking past them and into the future.

However there was a sense of dread when you lied in bed that night. The excitement of getting closer to Alastor had melted into the fear there was no going back from this.

Something in your chest stung, a thorn growing from somewhere unknown. Three encounters (that he knew of) and already it seemed your thoughts were more Alastor than yourself. No person had ever made such an impression before. You didn’t like it, but it made you happy. Which is why you didn’t like it. Tying your happiness to another person was a reckless thing to do. You’d seen your mother and half sister both use a man’s attention as a replacement for being happy with themselves and it made them brittle and hollow.

Thinking of what would happen the following night, oddly, you were reminded of losing your virginity. You were a “late bloomer” and were terrified you’d never be you again after. Like something would be taken from you. You fell asleep to that thought, of what you’d lose.

Then you woke, uncharacteristically early, feeling none the bit rested. No dreams. No nightmares. A few seconds of darkness and suddenly it was morning. With the extra time you had you wandered into a department store before going to the theater.

When a sales woman approached you, asking what you were looking for, you were too tired lie.

“A red dress.” You didn’t have the makeup at home to cover your marks, and gave up being worried about it.

Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t so odd of a sight; a woman with a black eye.

“What’s the occasion? Apology dinner?” The woman fidgeted with the hangers while looking at you.

You grimaced, “No, a murder.”

She howled, “You are a hoot! Don’t we wish, huh? Let me pull you some options.”

You put the dress on the top of the paper bag, having hidden it under your make up table the previous night. Your fingers were trembling, applying your makeup needing deep breaths and concentration.

“Ruth, can you do my lips?” You turned and handed her the brush.

“The eye looks better.” She took your chin in her hand and painted your mouth a pretty shade of red.

“Thank you.” You offered her a smile but she didn't let go, “What?”

“You ever seen a cornered raccoon? Like one got in the house and your mom boxed it into a corner with a broom?”

A nod, yes, actually, you had.

“Who’s got the broom?” She asked. You knitted your brow, not understanding. “Who’s got you in a corner? Is it Tommy?”

You took your chin back, deep breaths. “No brooms. No corners. Just rattled still from last night.” Not a lie, surprisingly. “You thought of a raccoon? Really? Is it because of the eye?”

When you took your bow for the evening and turned to escape the stage lights for the darkness of backstage, you found Tommy leaning just outside the dressing room.

“Get changed, doors unlocked upstairs. Room 504.”

Grabbing the paper bag you ran through your mental checklist. Wear red, take off your make up, hide the canvas by the bed. An odd to-do list for murder.

The theater had two floors of modest apartments above it, the owners keeping two of the open for the theater’s use. One was for the owners should they ever visit New Orleans, and the other was multi use. Storage and a crash pad for performers or Tommy when he worked late.

The bag crinkled as you hugged it, looking over the small apartment. Boxes, decorations, a modest kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was quite large, a tub and shower head. Was this where the other performers went?

Why hadn’t anyone said anything sooner? Why didn’t anyone leave yet?

Taking a second, you got to work. You opened the canvas and slid it under the bed, the smallest bit of edge sticking out for easy retrieval. Dizzy with the quickly settling reality of what you were doing, you sat on the floor for a moment. Trying to calm your breathing, you closed your eyes.

The fear of the unknown was suffocating you. There was a possibility Alastor failed and ended up hurt. Or, that he changed his mind and Tommy left you two to just hold hands on the bed for a sex-appropriate amount of time.

You patted your thighs and stood up. No time now for a panic attack. Alastor had a change of clothes in the bag, neatly folded and tied in twine. They were set onto the shelf above the closet.

And finally, yourself. Your dress was on and you stopped to wipe the make up off your face in the bathroom mirror. Still bruised, still nasty. The dress was nice though, carrying some of the weight for your battered mug. Red cotton, sailor neck and little gold buttons down the front. Flashy, brighter than the dark number you usually wore.

Would he like it? Most men looked for how a dress accentuated your curves (or hid them) but you had a feeling Alastor didn’t care so much about that.

You took your seat at the edge of the bed, thin mattress sagging from your weight.

The clock ticked, until finally the door opened and you saw something you hadn’t seen before and knew you’d never see again. Tommy and Alastor.

“Here she is. Autumn, this is Mr. Cerf. He's asked I stay in the apartment, apparently word of your attitude already spread among the upperclass.” Tommy wagged his finger at you in a playful way that was entirely out of place.

“Look at her. Pouting. Not very excited, is she?” Alastor smiled at you, softly. You felt for a second that maybe you entirely misunderstood. He looked calm, normal. Even peaceful.

“It’s always nice when they fight a little. But she won’t cause you any trouble.” Tommy patted Alastor’s back, who immediately shirked away.

“Do you like it when women try to fight you off, Tommy?”

A dry laugh, “Ya know how it is. They gotta act like they don’t like it so people still respect ‘em.”

A hum. Alastor’s smile falling entirely. A shadow settled over his face. “I see. That does make things easier.” He slipped on his short black gloves. “I always tell her she looks lovely in red. She rarely listens to me, but I’m happy to see she did tonight. It’s a special occasion.”

Once, you thought. You didn’t listen once.

Tommy nervously chuckled, looking from Alastor then to you, “What?” Alastor grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground and onto his knees. Hand fisted in his hair, knife pressing across his throat.

Alastor dug his knee into the small of Tommy’s back, “Tommy, I think you owe the lady an apology.” You let your feet find the edge of the canvas and slid it out with a kick. It glided across the wood and stopped where his knees met the floor.

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tommy was staring at the waxed fabric in front of him.

You felt your eyes sting with tears, a smile breaking out against your will. “For what?”

“I—,” his eyes searched the room for an answer, your words bringing a pulse of Deja Vu, “It’s about yesterday?” He seemed to relax a little, “Come on. I said sorry. ” Looking back to Alastor. “I didn’t know she had a guy.”

Alastor yanked his head back to look him squarely in his eyes, “Wrong answer.” He pushed him down onto his stomach, “Come on Tommy. I like when my victims fight a little, too.” Sensing the taller man towering over him with the knife, Tommy scrambled onto his back to look at Alastor. Tommy started shouting, “Hey!! Someone!” But there was no one to hear him. That was the beauty of the space he always brought his dates to; it was too loud to hear anyone scream.

Funny how that works both ways.

Alastor shrugged, “Well that didn’t last long.” As Tommy backed up, trying to get traction on the slippery canvas and failing, Alastor straddled him. Tommy’s hands came up, one pushing against Alastor’s face, the other against the arm holding the knife. Alastor put both hands onto the knife’s handle, staring down into Tommy’s eyes as he inched closer to the man’s neck. “You look scared, Tommy. Are you scared?”

The other man shouted, eyes trembling as he watched the knife come down.

Alastor pushed through, metal sinking into Tommy’s throat. No pause, he withdrew and sank it again and again. Tommy’s hands fell from Alastor’s face, flailing slightly at his neck before slumping down. He was frenzied, stabbing at his chest and upward with wide eyes. You recognized those constricted pupils. They made sense in this setting. Alastor was panting, taking a second to split the skin from ear to ear in the middle of his melee.

You brought your knees to your chest, watching the crime unfold. Was this anger for you or truly for everyone? No one ever got so angry for you before, if you could be so conceited as to say this was for you. Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, no filter. “You look like an angry God. A jazz demon of wrath.” You smiled, the morbidity not lost on you.

Alastor stopped, frozen as he stared at you. For a second, he had forgotten you were there. He was always alone during these hobbies of his. Until recently. You looked like an angel in red and gold. Had he dyed your heavenly robes crimson? Or had you been made that way?

He dropped the knife, peeling his gloves off and stepping over Tommy’s decimated torso before kicking off his shoes.

You scooted back onto the bed and opened your arms, welcoming a strange after-kill cuddle. Your reward.

Alastor took off his bowtie, then his shirt. It took you a second, not realizing what was happening until he began to unbuckle his belt. “Now?!”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“What the fuc— okay,” your hands flew to unclasp your stockings and roll down your panties. You mumbled to yourself, “Jesus Christ.”

As he crawled over you, warm gloveless hands tracing along your legs, hips, waist, you looked at up him with your now dilated pupils, “It’s murder? You need murder?”

He laughed, embarrassing you a little, “No it isn’t that.” His face nuzzled into your neck, “You’d go to hell? For me?”

You froze, you hadn’t really seen it like that.

“You’d damn your eternal soul,” his hips pressed into you, an unfamiliar hardness there that made you gulp, “just to spend time with me?”

How were you so heated over an erection? A dime a dozen, men practically threw them at women who offered them the slightest smile. Yet feeling him so hard against you, something you had been practically praying for, made you weak. A trembling virgin all over again.

Don’t lie, he always told you to be honest so you decided to try it out even if it made you feel at risk of harm. Your hands slid up and into his hair, gripping gently, enough to elicit a groan from him, “Well I was worried heaven wouldn’t have jazz, so… yeah.” You had to always say something a little in jest, to hide from the vulnerability of honesty, “This seemed like a better option.” The truth was, if you had to state it plainly, you would dive head first into hell in exchange for his smile. To hear his laugh. To feel his breath over your mouth. You were quite sure hell was more your scene, anyway.

“I’ll be sure to fill your afterlife with jazz every day, dear.”

How could he make hell sound so sweet?

“It’s a deal.” Fingers playing with his hair, basking in the warmth of skin on skin.

He leaned up, eyes scanning your face as he always seemed to do in these intimate moments. The feeling spreading down his chest was one wholly foreign to him, one he was struggling to put into his own words. You hadn’t run away. You opened your arms for him even still, welcoming your own damnation in exchange for… affection? Attention? Him? The reason didn’t matter, not to Alastor, and not now to his growing need. You didn’t even push him for more than he wanted to give, not yet needled him for details, secrets, sex. Could you really just be there for Alastor? Take him for what he was and what he wasn’t?

His mouth was salivating at the thought you’d give him anything. Reality was, you already had. His finger caressed the purple welt on your cheek. You were given pain and he returned it ten fold to its owner. A demon of wrath. He felt his cock twitching, underwear tented around him.

You smiled up at him, wiping a little streak of blood from his jawline, “You look quite pretty in red yourself.”

His head came to rest on your collarbone with a shaky sigh.

Had you said something wrong?

“Please, you’re already pushing me to my limit.”

Making a show of it, you zipped your mouth and pretended to toss the key. You wanted to reach down and pull off his remaining bit of clothing, to rub yourself against his manhood. But, you weren’t sure if that was something he would appreciate. You didn’t want to ruin his experience, to make him regret offering you something he so clearly didn’t need to give.

He removed his underwear, watching you unbutton your dress and pulling your arms free. Your bra, garter, and stockings were still on. Somehow he found it more scandalous than if you were completely naked.

Your breath was shaking, uneven as the excitement took control of you. There was a not totally unfounded fear you'd black out from hyperventilating.

Alastor lined himself up with your heat and pressed in, making a hard to decipher face as his brow knit up and he bit his lip. You were already so wet, not a hand or mouth needed from him. He wondered if you shared more than an acceptance of justified homicide; your body so relaxed and welcoming to him.

With a few shallow thrusts, he was fully sunk into you. You may have let out a cry. An emptiness you hadn’t clocked was suddenly gone. Was this what Zeus meant when he said the two souled humans were too powerful and tore them apart to weaken them?

Was this sex, or love? The word made you nervous. But—- if he offered it to you in both palms, you’d suffocate yourself in his hands.

He began to move in earnest, thrusting in and out slowly. You had expected the frantic moves of a horny virgin. Instead he was moving with control, hips rolling into you like waves gentle and steady where the lake met land, not slamming like many men before him.

Had it been any other dick, you’d whine and begin moving yourself against it for that needed speed. This was Alastor. Dripping pleasure into your open mouth like a drought-breaking summer shower.

You didn’t recognize your own sounds, already panting and moaning as a warmth spread from the place where his cock was sliding around inside you.

Alastor tried to keep calm. Even when his body was sensitive, he wasn’t used to the mental work needed to fight off his orgasm. Usually he had the opposite issue, struggling to stay focused enough to finish. Mind wandering to more productive chores.

But you were so wet, so accepting in body and mind. He watched your eyes close, one hand gently clawing at the blankets, the other reaching down to touch his lower stomach every time he thrust back in. For the first time in a very long time you really truly wanted to remember who was at the other end of the dick you were enjoying.

Languid moves. Swollen cockhead hitting the bottom of your walls, the top, the end, pushing still a little further.

“I’m sorry,” Alastor leaned down over you, kissing at your jawline, “For making you wait so long for so little.”

His rhythm picked up then, burying himself deeper into your sopping cunt and dragging out enough to pull back that quiver of his release.

You shook your head, lips tingling. “Nothing little here.”

He attempted a laugh, losing his breath. He wanted to last longer, to make the experience worth your while but he could feel you dripping down his balls and it weakened him with alarming efficiency. Finally the frenzied speed you witnessed earlier was turned to you, you brought your legs up, holding at his sides. “Darling I need to-,” he moaned into your ear.

“Please stay.” You clung to his neck, nails grazing at his shoulders.

Alastor’s voice was soft and sweet, a small moan and a gentle grunt. His legs spread more, trying to get every centimeter of himself into you. Hips now grinding in a small circle, but not losing any of the comfort of your warmth. You felt him still pumping that welcomed heat into you, and you tightened around him, drawing out your own moan. He hissed, “Sensitive.” Your legs were shaking like leaves in a storm, no orgasm but the pleasure nonetheless intoxicating.

The front of your brain felt like static, perhaps from the lack of oxygen as you had uncharacteristically lost your breath under Alastor.

Like losing your virginity, after the fear faded and you were able to find a moment for introspection, you found yourself larger than before. The edges of your canvas expanded out, new parts of yourself unfurling for you to explore. Nothing had been lost, only gained.

Alastor kissed at the dark circle under your eye, at the bruise of your cheek, he lifted your arm and kissed gently at the purple and blue spots there too. He had lied, and he wasn’t sure why, but maybe he’d find the will to admit it to you someday.

He had left yesterday to keep from strangling Tommy in the center of the theater, finding himself in a rage. He rarely felt anger. His killings always about retribution, about karma, about righting the scales. He needed to leave to keep from losing his composure.

He lied to you in the alley, unable to look you in the eye when he did it for fear you’d see it. You always seemed to see him with a clarity others didn’t despite such a short time together. He struggled to hide from you and it was as exciting as it was frightening. A testament to your similarities.

He hadn’t done it for everyone. No. His personal moral code fell to pieces when he saw your bloodied eye and bruised skin. He would have killed Tommy even if he had been a good man, even if you’d been the instigator. None of his murderous rules mattered. And it scared him.

(Next Part Next Week, orz)

*slang for boyfriend, often a rich one

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay /

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

990 notes · View notes

faeoffaith · 1 year ago

Text

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR

summary. You confess to Alastor, rapidly turning the pages of your unpredictable future with him as you two share a night of passion, unknowingly that someone lurks in the shadows watching you.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, Alastor gets a bit possessive and primal idk, breeding kink, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, rough!dom!alastor, a love making if you squint

author’s note. i took a short break to focus on my exams but i am back and will be responding to requests and my messages as soon as possible, thank you all for being patient! I plan on having only ten chapters so we are half way there! If you want to check this story out on wattpad (where you can find the chapters a bit more easily) you can find me @ SCREAMPIED. as always, thank you for the love and support. enjoy sinners.

You had first thought to find Alastor's warehouse by memory but it was a fruitless attempt as the woods that surrounded his home were so dense that Mr.Ray opted against it, seeing as you two would get lost without a proper guide. You wanted to venture off into the woods but with Ray supervising you, you knew you had to take your search elsewhere. You and Mr. Ray had found yourselves on to the bustling streets of New Orleans, specifically targeting the popular French Quarter. The vibrant energy of the city surrounded you, the sounds of jazz music and lively conversations filling the air as you navigated through the crowd.

Your first stop was the renowned jazz club where Alastor was known to frequent and had taken you to only a few nights ago. The sultry melodies spilled out onto the street, drawing in a diverse crowd of music enthusiasts and night owls. The inviting glow of the club's entrance welcomed you back, stirring a mix of heartache and determination within you.

As you stepped inside, the familiar ambiance washed over you—the smooth jazz tunes, the dimly lit stage, and the intimate setting that had once felt so enchanting. The club was alive with activity, patrons enjoying the music, sipping on cocktails, and engaging in lively conversations.

You approached the bartender, a seasoned individual who seemed to have a wealth of knowledge about the club's regulars. With a friendly smile, you inquired about Alastor, describing him as the charming gentleman with a penchant for jazz and a captivating presence.

The bartender's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, you're talking about Al," he said with a nod. "He hasn't been around for a while, but he usually shows up later in the evening, closer to midnight."

Your heart raced with anticipation as you thanked the bartender and found a seat at the bar, eagerly awaiting Alastor's arrival. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with anticipation and a hint of apprehension.

As midnight approached, the jazz club seemed to come alive in a different way, the music taking on a more soulful tone, the atmosphere tinged with a sense of mystery and possibility. You glanced around, searching for any sign of Alastor's distinctive presence, hoping that this time, your search would lead to the answers you sought.

As the minutes stretched into midnight, Mr. Ray settled into the seat beside you at the jazz club. His concerned expression didn't go unnoticed as he glanced around the lively venue, the music and laughter swirling around you.

"Miss, I have to say, this whole venture feels like a bad idea," Mr. Ray began, his tone cautious yet firm. "Chasing after someone who seems intent on staying elusive, especially someone like Alastor, might not lead to the answers you're looking for."

"And what do you know about Alastor?" You turned to Mr. Ray then, arching an eyebrow, challenging his perspective.

The driver shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "Not much, except for his reputation. Street talk suggests he's someone best left alone."

In that moment, you realized there was more to Alastor than met the eye. The man you'd grown fond of had a life beyond the radio show, shrouded in mystery. It prompted questions about how well you truly knew him; the answer, upon reflection, was not much, given the short time you'd known each other.

"Is he some sort of dangerous person? A kingpin? A fugitive?" You tapped your fingers on the bar counter, probing for answers.

"Not precisely, Miss. It's more of an unsettling aura he carries. People steer clear, citing his eyes as the giveaway—he's said to lack a soul," Mr. Ray explained, flicking ash from his cigarette. "That's why he resides in the woods, away from prying eyes."

"These are just rumors," you defended, feeling protective of Alastor. "He's not what they say."

"True, but rumors often hold grains of truth," Mr. Ray countered.

You met his gaze, a mix of determination and uncertainty in your eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Ray," you replied firmly. "But I need answers. I need to find Alastor and talk to him, no matter the risks."

Mr. Ray sighed, a hint of resignation in his eyes. "I can't stop you from doing what you feel is right, Miss," he conceded. "But please, be cautious. Sometimes, chasing after the thing we want most can just lead to more heartache."

His words struck a chord, a fleeting doubt creeping into your mind. However, the determination to seek answers and clarity outweighed the uncertainty. With a nod of understanding to Mr. Ray, you turned your focus back to the club, waiting anxiously for any sign of Alastor's arrival, knowing that this encounter would shape the path ahead, for better or for worse.

Your eyes widened as you noticed that familiar sight of brown hair and charming smile. Alastor entered the club with a woman on his arm, sparking a confused twinge of jealousy to course through you, but you quickly composed yourself despite your heart racing so much you were sure it was going to pop out of your chest. Sensing the moment of truth approaching, you turned to Mr. Ray beside you.

"You can go home now, Mr. Ray," you said firmly, your gaze fixed on Alastor's figure in the distance. "And do tell my mother that I will be home late."

Mr. Ray's expression tightened with concern. "Miss, it's half past midnight. I can't leave you alone like this," he protested, his protective instincts kicking in.

However, you remained resolute. "I am a grown woman," you said, your eyes never leaving Alastor as he conversed with the woman beside him. "I can manage fine without a chaperone. Now go."

Reluctantly, Mr. Ray nodded, understanding the determination in your voice. He stood up from his seat, casting one last worried glance in your direction before making his way out of the club. The sense of independence filled you as you watched him leave.

As Alastor's eyes met yours across the crowded jazz club, a silent understanding passed between you. With a subtle nod, he excused himself from the woman on his arm, gracefully making his way through the lively crowd toward you.

His approach was deliberate, his gaze unwavering as he closed the distance between you. With a teasing smile, Alastor glided his finger across your cheek in a familiar gesture, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Smile, my dear," he remarked in his charismatic tone, "you are never fully dressed without a smile."

Your response betrayed the jealously you felt as a shiver goes down your spine at just a mere touch from him, you let his name fall from your lips like a soft spell. "Alastor," you said, your voice a mix of love and curiosity, "I have been looking for you."

The playful banter momentarily faded, replaced by a tense anticipation as you awaited his response. The air between you crackled with unspoken questions and emotions, the time for games and pleasantries giving way to the pressing need for answers and clarity.

"Oh? Well you have found me. How ever can I be assistance?" He did a quick bowls he grabbed ahold of your hand, placing a gentle lingering kiss along your knuckles.

"Who was that woman you're with?" The question spilled form your mouth before you could think, glancing over at the short plump woman that was dancing her heart away with another gentleman on the dance floor with a twinge of distaste, "A friend?"

Alastor could only smile at your noticeable jealousy, "A friend." He confirmed, "That is the lively mimzy, she cornered me as I made my way in here and assisted that I escort her in. As you can she, she already has forgotten my presence."

You nod in understanding, breath catching in your throat as Alastor stands closer to you, his face only inches from yours as he moves his hand to your waist, the stool you sat on only making it all the more easier for him to tower over you.

"Now, anymore questions? Or can I kiss you, my dear?" Alastor made a show of teasing you in such a public place, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he leaned in for a kiss but your hand over his mouth stopped him. As much as you wanted to give in to his enticing allure you knew you shouldn’t, not when you had no idea where exactly you stood in his life. You wanted something more, more than spontaneous rendezvous.

"I have a few.." You admit, "But let's go somewhere private, away from everyone else.”

“Of course,” Alastor straightened his tie, offering you his arm with a smile, "There is a lovely park not too far from here, the fireflies there are truly a sight to see. Shall we?"

You take his arm with a small nervous smile, walking out of the club that had just began to truly get lively once again. The both of you walked down the bustling street of the French Court, unbeknownst to you of a car headlights turning on across the street to slowly follow you.

As you both arrived at the nearby park, the scene unfolded like a romantic painting. Other couples strolled along the riverbank, their laughter and silhouettes bathed in the soft glow of fireflies. You couldn't help but gaze at the night sky in awe, feeling as though you were part of something truly enchanting. The stars brightened the night sky like diamonds and you couldn't help by smile, feeling as though this counted as your second date with Alastor. It was simply, like the first one, and you found yourself with a bit of longing for the future- one that was filled with more moments like these with the man you've come to love.

Walking quietly beside Alastor, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over you, making you feel small beside him. Finding a secluded bench, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze creating a serene atmosphere.

Sitting together on the bench, you felt the weight of unspoken words hovering on the tip of her tongue, struggling to gather the courage to voice them. Her head battled with her heart, and the burning question finally spilled out, "Alastor, what are we?"

He chuckled lightly, turning to look at you, but you kept her eyes fixed forward, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Whatever do you mean, my dear?" he replied with amusement.

"You know exactly what I mean,"you said, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort, your gaze drifting up to the sky once more. "You know I'm a Duvalier, with all the expectations that come with it. I'm expected to be married by the end of the season. It's an obligation, but it's also something I want. I want the whole happy ending – a husband, children eventually, that perfect life."

Your words stumbled out in a jumble as you struggled to convey her feelings to Alastor, or anyone for that matter. "I know it sounds silly, but I love you, or I know I could. What I'm trying to say is, I want to be with you and have that perfect life with you, but I need to know if you feel the same way. I don't want to be just a distraction or someone you discard when you're bored."

The weight of the silence that followed your confession settled heavily on your heart. You braced yourself for Alastor's response, half expecting the worst as your mother's warnings echoed in your mind. If only you could glimpse into Alastor's thoughts and see the turmoil brewing within him. For a fleeting moment, his smile wavered, unnoticed by you. Inside him, emotions raged like a relentless storm threatening to engulf him. You had been nothing more than a fleeting diversion, a domestic facade slowly growing on him, but love? The very concept seemed laughable to him, having forgotten its true meaning since his mother's passing.

The prospect of love was new territory for Alastor, dangerous waters he hesitated to navigate blindly. Yet, a part of him yearned for it. He gazed into your earnest eyes, seeing a hopeless romantic who he had once thought he could manipulate then kill with his charm. Now, he realized you were entirely his, and nothing he could ever do would deter your affection. He entertained the notion that perhaps you were his salvation, someone who had peered into his soul like no one else ever had.

Despite his dark secrets and looming shadows, you looked past it all and embraced him for who he was. Alastor, in his twisted mind, welcomed this newfound sensation of love but remained cautious, acknowledging his reluctance towards commitment. Yet, if you were willing to accept him with all his flaws, he was willing to try.

"Do you love me enough to die for me?" Alastor's gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You couldn't tear your eyes away, captivated by his aura and the shiver of pleasure his intensity sent down your spine.

"Yes," you answered breathlessly, craving his touch.

"That was too easy," Alastor dismissed your response with boredom, having seen the life fade from eyes so easily before. Living alongside him, however, would be a far greater challenge than dying for him. "Would you live for me?"

"Every day," you replied, your hands clinging to his wrist as he drew you closer, igniting a fiery desire between your legs that couldn't be quenched without him.

"Then you are mine dear, forever. In this life and the next, in heaven and in hell." Alastor's words hung in the air, a testament to the intensity of your emotions now reciprocated. Without another word, Alastor closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. It was a collision of desire and longing, a melding of two souls entwined in a tumultuous dance of love and darkness.

His kiss was both tender and possessive, a silent declaration of his complex feelings for you. You melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his touch sear through your entire being. It was as if every doubt, every fear was erased in that moment of connection, replaced by a burning need for each other.

Time seemed to stand still as you both lost yourseleves in each other, your hearts beating as one in the midst of chaos. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the raw passion and undeniable bond that drew you together.

When he finally broke the kiss, your breaths mingling in the shared space between them, Alastor's eyes held a mixture of longing and uncertainty. He had allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let you see a side of him he had long kept hidden. It was a leap of faith, a gamble on love that both thrilled and terrified him.

As you looked into his eyes, feeling the echo of his kiss still lingering on your lips, you knew that in that moment, all that mattered was the fierce connection that blossomed from a single dance on a patio a few nights ago, a flame that burned brighter in the midst of darkness.

"Take me home?" Your grip on Alastor never faltered as you felt this undeniable need to be with him, to give yourself to him yet again and explore that now familiar height of pleasure you tasted before.

The warm glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a soft, flickering light, casting dancing shadows across the walls and floor. Alastor had you on the floor, legs over his shoulders with his arms hooked under your knees to fold you into a deep mating press. You felt his cock go inside you impossibly deeper, his swollen tip bruising your cervix as he pounded into you relentlessly. The crackling of the fire added a soothing rhythm to the charged atmosphere, heightening the senses as you explored each other's bodies with fervent caresses.

Alastor let out a primal groan that had goosebumps appearing all over you skin, his rough thrusts sending electric tingles throughout your body. Those deep brown eyes that poured into yours ignited a fire within you, a need that begged to be satisfied. His lips found their way to your neck, planting soft kisses along the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver with a soft moan slipping past your lips.

You ran your fingers through his hair and down his back, fingernails dragging across his skin to leave marks, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The desire between you grew with each passing moment, fueled by the undeniable chemistry that crackled in the air.

"Say it again," Alastor demanded, sweat beading down his face as he brought his head up to look into your eyes once again, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip with a blissful smile.

"I love you," You tossed your head back in pleasure, your throat nearly becoming raw from being so loud, your voice echoing throughout the walls of the warehouse, "I love you, A-Alastor..I'm so close, please."

"Good girls beg to cum, my dear." Your lover says, his voice a sweet taunt in your ear as he continues to fuck you into the floor, his balls slapping against you, "So beg."

"Alastor, please-please can I cum?" You begged, your mind going dumb with nothing but the thought of his cock inside you, filling you to the brim and stretching you impossibly wide that it stung, "It feels so good, Alastor, please-! I-!"

"No." His refusal had tears brimming the corner of your eyes, that need within the pit of your stomach only growing, aching to be released as you tried your best to deny it and not succumb to that feeling in the desperate attempt to submit to Alastor.

“Please—? Ah! Al—!”

Alastor could only laugh at your pitiful attempt to speak over the lewd sound of your tight pussy sucking him in greedily. If he couldn’t torture you to death he would surely torture you in other ways. Though the thought of your blood spilling from your pretty throat and soaking his fingers enticed him, he realized that he enjoyed inflicting the sexual torture a tad bit more. There was something about the look on your tear streaked face, mascara running and lipstick smudged, painting you as the perfect sinful masterpiece that he created. The way you were going completely dumb on his cock, getting lost in the feeling of only him as your mind turned to absolute mush from the overwhelming pleasure. You were shaking, writhing beneath him from the overstimulation and yet you still looked up at him with oh so innocent eyes— sweet pure innocence that he wanted to corrupt.

You were young and inexperienced in the matters of the heart, sex— hell, the world. It was going to take someone who was much older, much more experience to show you just how amazing adulthood could be, how pleasure can be felt from the top of your head to the top of your toes and lucky for you, you had a partner that knew the female anatomy all too well. Alastor angled his hips just right, hitting the sweet spot within you relentlessly that had you crying out, eyes rolling back, and toes curling.

“Look at me,” Alastor took ahold of your chin, forcing you to stay present and not get lost in the wonderland of complete euphoria, “That’s it darling, keep looking into my eyes and maybe I’ll reward you, hm?”

“Alastor…” Your voice was becoming a bit hoarse now, voice cracking from the tears you were shedding but a small smile graced your lips despite it all because you knew that this was something you wanted to experience for the rest of your days. To be beneath him, submitting your entire being to the man you love so you wouldn’t have to worry, or some much as think about the outside world because in this moment it was just you two.

“Fuck,” He cursed, feeling himself grow closer to his own release but he ignored it, focusing on you and how your lips were parted, begging Alastor with a soft voice to let you cum, “Let me hear that pretty voice, mon chère.”

"Please, please, please," you quietly begged, feeling another orgasm coming quicker than the last. Alastor watched you intently before he sat up to lick his thumb, bringing it down to rub circles onto your swollen clit. Your hips nearly bucked away from how sensitive you felt, "Alastor!"

"Does that feel good?" Alastor quieted you with a kiss before moving away to take your bottom lip in between his teeth, making you whimper as you felt him bite down, the irony taste of blood filling your mouth, "Be a doll and cum for me."

"Fuck!" You moaned out, feeling yourself clench around his cock just as you came undone.

Alastor quickly followed suit, burying himself inside you to the hilt before painting your walls white. You winced slightly from the feeling of being stuffed so full, your hole practically fluttering around nothing once he pulled out of you. It was strange, feeling his seed drip out of you, it was warm. You yelped just as Alastor brought your sore legs up to your chest again, his fingers making quick work of your freshly fucked out hole as he finger fucked his dripping cum back into you. The sudden primal urge to not let a single drop go to waste taking over Alastor, his eyes nearly black with lust once he takes in the sight of your swollen pussy with a grin that made you shiver.

“I’m s-sore..” Your body still shook from the intense orgasm you just had, “wait—”

“Shh,” Alastor hushed you, the wet sounds coming from your pussy seemingly louder now, “Relax, my dear.”

You whimpered, body tensing as you watched Alastor’s long slender fingers slide in and out of you with ease thanks to the natural lubricant of your arousal and his cum combined. Alastor finger fucked his cum back into you with a wide grin, only stopping when he was satisfied with the sight of your pretty pussy taking all of his cum again

Alastor traced delicate patterns along your inner thigh, his gaze locked on yours as he savored the rise and fall of your chest. "Such a beautiful sight," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I don't take words lightly, especially when they come from someone as captivating as you. Your mind, your body," he trailed kisses up your body, savoring each love mark along your neck, "and your soul—all are mine now."

A whispered affirmation escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored the intensity in Alastor's eyes. As your lips met in a slow, passionate kiss, the world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a realm of shared desire and longing. His mouth silenced your moans as he deepened the kiss, each touch igniting a fire that consumed you both.

Exhausted yet content, you nestled into Alastor's embrace as he spooned you, his warmth enveloping you like a protective cocoon. The soft glow of the fireplace cast shadows on the walls, creating a tranquil ambiance that matched the peace settling over your spent bodies. Goosebumps danced across your skin as his hand traced gentle paths down your arm, pulling you closer to him.

In that moment, with your head resting against his chest and his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear, you drifted into a peaceful slumber. Alastor's whispered words—"Rest, my darling. We'll leave in the morning"—were the last echoes you heard before sleep claimed you, cocooning you in a world where love and warmth were the only realities.

As Alastor lay beside you, the flickering flames of the fireplace began to dim, casting fleeting shadows across the room. Sensing the need for more wood to keep the fire alive, Alastor gently slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. Unbeknownst to him, Mr. Ray had been lurking outside the window, his curiosity and fulfilling need to protect you getting the better of him as he watched Alastor's movements.

Silently slipping out into the cold night, Alastor made his way to the woodpile, his breath forming misty clouds in the chilled air. With practiced ease, he picked up the axe, lean muscles flexing as he did so, ready to chop the logs needed to fuel the dying fire. Little did he know that Mr. Ray, hidden in the shadows, had followed him, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. Mr.Ray had been there long enough to witness the intimate moment you and Alastor shared, drawing his own conclusions about you and what exactly you meant to Alastor. Overall, he saw nothing but a couple being scandalous, your intimacy blanketed by the secrets of the night but there was just something off about Alastor that Mr.Ray couldn't shake and he wanted to find out what.

As Alastor swung the axe, the sound of wood splitting echoed in the quiet night. But it was a small twig under Mr. Ray's foot that betrayed his presence. Alastor's senses instantly sharpened, his instincts alert to the intruder in his domain. With a swift movement, he turned, the axe held firmly in his grasp, a murderous glint flickering in his eyes as he scanned the darkness with a playful grin. The killer had a hunch, a feeling, that something felt off when he brought you back to his place. Of course he thought it was his imagination or the voices in his head playing tricks on him but now he was certain that there was someone lurking in the shadows watching him.

As the twig snapped under Mr. Ray's foot, his heart raced with the realization that he had been discovered. Panic surged through him as he tried to retreat into the darkness, hoping to hide from Alastor's piercing gaze. However, before he could take more than a few steps, he heard the sound of footsteps closing in behind him.

Alastor, quick to react, had already sensed Mr. Ray's attempt to flee. Like a fox hunting a hare, he closed the distance between them in mere moments, his presence looming over Mr. Ray like a menacing shadow. The moonlight cast eerie shadows around them, adding to the suspense of the moment.

Mr. Ray's breath caught in his throat as he felt Alastor's presence right behind him, the cold steel of the axe chillingly close to his back. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized the danger he was in, trapped between the darkness of the night and the looming threat of Alastor.

Alastor's voice sliced through the tense silence, low and threatening. "Trying to sneak away, are we?" His words dripped with a dangerous edge, sending a chill down Mr. Ray's spine.

There was two choices Alastor had to make, he could kill him now or torture him later. Though you were here so that limited him to only one option, which was to kill him now. The murderer didn't mind that because as much as he wanted to drill some information out of him on why he was here, the sudden realization that he had been watching the both of you made a bubbling anger boil within him. He had watched you, in all your naked glory no doubt, and that thought alone made the rage spill over.

In that heart-stopping moment, Alastor raised the axe, the moonlight glinting off its sharp blade as it hovered ominously in the air. Mr. Ray's instincts screamed at him to run, but fear rooted him to the ground, unable to move.

The scene was frozen in time, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. With a swift and calculated movement, Alastor brought the axe down, the air splitting with the sound of its descent. That satisfying crunch of a skull crushing made Alastor smile, blood splattering all over his face and bare chest as he brought the axe down again, and again. His eyes, usually calm and collected, now glinted with a manic light as his true, psychotic nature spilled over.

@queenmizuki @sirens-and-moonflowers @poppingaround @happytacojudgepalace @mo-0-o @harmfulb1tch @tiredkiwiii @moody-mod @themoonitselff @darifes @whocaresimnothere @boogiemansbitch @stygianoir @miyu-kii @jam0001 @theredviolets @olive-frog @t0xic1vi @chirimeimei @luzzbuzz @simp-erman @arsonist0621 @abi99gail @mistpurpl3 @burninupa-star @manicjk @foxykatniss123 @night-shadowblood-writes2 @dissociativeidentitydumbass @jam0001 @virtualgirlie @dickmastersworld @yesyesbread @corvid007@moody-mod @vexendoe @peachmangovivi

@facelessfionna@wonderlandangelsposts@starryeyeddreamer21@ivebeenthearchersstuff @mariaclarade-la-cruz1@l0ca1ax010t1@redfoxgotlost @louellenw @rl800@hxzbinwrites@aspenthewriter @deepspace-diver @toadsquirt3-99 @amitydoodlez @imelodyu @sirens-and-moonflowers@danusia-dana-blog @camarocarfight @wohooqueen @holymusicalmothman @michi-keinz @whatever0motivation @ilikemyteawithmilk @dolliesttgirl@certifiedcrybabyyy @brandy-and-bane @theblondedreamer @alastorsgirl48@zq13 @velvethakiragi @virisdescent@roxxie-wolf @doggone-devil@espinfeather@valeery@crimeshowcutie@simphornies@karolinda007-blog

@senkales @preciousbabypeter @rubyxbelle @z1ish @memoire-du-ciel @azmosposts @thewiccancorpse @valentique @mercephemerra-blog @stellasstarss @staryosh1 @purplerose291 @shoyosdoll @certifiedcrybabyyy @psipies @leathesimp @luzzbuzz@alastorssimp @kyana-chan @amurtan @speaker15 @thesimpybitch @maybeitsmethefox @hailstryk @n4pt1mesense1 @hellkaisersangel @karolinda007-blog @lil-bexie @babysheeple @clarakainda @anuttellaa @lolangweilig @mcrtrashfan @wat4r @zq13 @irlvelvette @yourdoorisunlocked @aestheticgals-blog @glowymxxn @madjazzhatter @bluemuff @zzzykiek @yunxi-11085 @azmosposts @xxashtonxx @ladyxolotl @mutifandomkid @emperatris-rinaka @hunnybee11626 @hazzawillian @mamawolfblood @xincchan @roxxie-wolf @whateverlololo @felixsbabystay @irlvelvette

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

889 notes · View notes