nanami1chu - Tumblr blog

nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

I've decided to abandon the order of the days and post whatever fic I finish first. Which just so happens to be the cuckolding prompt with Alastor + Vox. I genuinely love this fic and hope you enjoy it too!

Tags/Warnings: Cuckolding, Vox is bad with feelings, top Vox, top Alastor, fem!reader, creampie, friends with benefits, P in V sex, m! receiving oral, f! receiving oral, maybe size kink(?), Alastor is a little shit Word Count: 3,735

Vox fell onto his back besides you, his chest heaving from exertion. He glanced up at you, his heart skipping a beat as he realized you were already looking at him. His cock gave a valiant twitch as he trailed his eyes down your naked form. A light sheen of sweat covered your skin, your breasts moving tantalizingly as you caught your breath.

He reached out, brushing your hair out of your face, “Fuck babydoll, that was perfect,” He praised breathlessly.

He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning forward to capture your mouth with his, kissing you softly. You melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, and deepening the kiss in kind. You poured everything you felt for him into it.

The intensity of your kiss, the affection he felt in it, terrified him. He pulled back, leaving you to chase after him. You were his best friend and you occasionally fucked… but that? That felt too real. He sat up, brushing you off as his heart raced in his chest.

“Vox?” You question, feeling the shift in him.

Your brows furrow with concern as you sit up, reaching to touch his arm tentatively. He stood, stretching his hands over his head in a clear dismissal. You let your hand drop back to your side as you watched him, a sense of growing unease spreading through you.

“Well sweetheart,” He said, his tone performative as he attempted to distance himself from you. “Let's get cleaned up, I have better things to do.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach at his words. ‘Better things to do?’ What the hell did he mean by that? What were you, chopped liver? You watched as he headed towards the bathroom, a frown pulling at your lips as you felt your heart begin to break. You knew you were falling in love with Vox. You knew that this arrangement was dangerous, foolish even. But you had really hoped that maybe you’d be lucky, maybe Vox would feel the same. And now you were realizing how much of a fool you’d been.

If you followed your typical routine, you’d be joining Vox in the shower; but with your heart sitting heavy in your chest, you didn’t know how to face him right now. You took a moment to breathe before you stood from his bed, silently gathering up your clothes, and pulling them on. You paused in the doorway of his room, casting a glance over your shoulder at the bathroom door. You wondered how long it would take him to notice that you weren’t joining him, that you had left. Your footsteps were quiet as you left, a solemness falling over you.

Vox was just about to step into the shower when he paused. You hadn’t come into the bathroom yet and he was starting to get worried. He had seen the way your face had fallen when he had brushed you off, he had tried to ignore it. To ignore the way he hated seeing that look on your face. He didn’t want to think that he might have hurt you with his indifference. He cleared his throat, calling your name. When he didn’t hear a reply he moved back towards his room, peeking out and freezing. You were gone and so were your clothes.

“Fuck,” He curses, his heart clenching painfully in his chest as he realized you had left without a single word.

He knew you had been hurt by his words, by his cold actions, but the fact that you had left without a word? That hurt him far more than he was comfortable admitting. He felt small for how he’d reacted, how he had hurt you without a care in the world, and that was not something he liked feeling. So he did what he always did, he pushed the blame onto someone else- you.

He shook his head, scoffing, “If that’s how she wants to be, so be it. She should be grateful that I even allow her space in my bed.”

He returned to the bathroom, stepping into the spray of the shower. He sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. He didn’t want to examine why he had acted the way he had. He didn’t want to acknowledge how much your kiss scared him, and he certainly did not want to admit that he was falling in love with you.

“FUCK!” He yelled, slamming his fist against the shower wall, the door shaking in its frame. He’d apologize to you eventually, when his pride allowed it.

You sigh, glaring down at your phone, at Vox’s text. It had been a couple of nights since Vox had pushed you away. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t bothered to apologize. But now... Now? He had sent a text, asking if you were “down to fuck.”

“Ugh! The nerve of him!” You hiss, turning your phone off and tossing it onto the couch next to Alastor.

He barely looked up from his book, used to you complaining about Vox. In a way it let him check in on his old friend, regardless of the bad blood between them. He also found your exasperation with Vox entertaining.

“What has he done this time, dear?” Alastor asks, turning the page of his book.

You lean back against the couch, nestled in between his legs, “What hasn’t he done?” You sneer, resting your head against his thigh.

You lean your head back further against his lap, staring up at his face while he read, “He texted me seeing if I was available for sex. Like I’m his personal whore or something.”

That got Alastor’s attention.

His eyes darkened, his smile straining at the edges as he set his book aside, “Pardon?”

Alastor was used to the lows that Vox went to, but the thought that he was treating you like a common floozy? That was unacceptable, and Alastor wasn’t going to have any bit of it. He watched as you shifted enough to grab your phone.

His expression was dark, “Pray tell, what exactly were the picture box’s exact words?”

You turn your phone back on and hand it to Alastor so he could have a look at your texts himself.

“‘I have better things to do,” that’s what he told me the other day after we had… well you know,” you explain, frowning, “I just gave him a little taste of his own medicine.”

Alastor’s smile strained more, the perpetual state of it unable to hide his growing anger on your behalf. But you kept speaking, kept on digging Vox the grave that Alastor was intent on putting him in.

“He said that, and hasn't apologized, b.t.w. Then he asks me if I’m down to fuck. He’s an asshole! A complete and total asshole, whose head is so far up his own ass he can’t even see when he’s hurt me!” You sit up, turning to face Alastor.

The Radio Demon’s eye twitches, his anger growing with every word you speak. He had never been fond of your relationship with Vox, especially when the both of you started being… intimate. And now Vox had been treating you like this, the proof right before him. Alastor wasn’t going to let this slight against you go, and he knew exactly how he wanted to hurt Vox in turn.

With his mind made up, he set your phone aside and cupped your cheeks. “Tell me, little doe, do you trust me?”

You furrow your brows, falling silent at the sudden shift. A beat passes before you hesitantly respond, “Yes, I trust you, Al.”

His eyes flashed with an unnatural light, his smile widening, “Good. Because we’re going to hurt Vox just as badly as he hurt you.”

Alastor stood, pulling you up with him. Not giving you a moment to react, he slammed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. He was going to make Vox pay for how he's treated you, by giving you the pleasure you deserved.

Surprise floods you as Alastor kisses you. You felt a little guilty as you kissed him back, thinking of Vox. But you didn't owe Vox anything. You were friends with benefits, nothing more. He had made that obvious when he brushed you off and pushed you away. So what did you care what he thought? You were free to fuck anyone you wanted. Besides, Vox had probably gone to Valentino to get laid the moment you denied him. So why shouldn't you kiss Alastor? Why shouldn't you have sex with him?

Alastor breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, nipping at your collarbone.

“On your knees, little doe,” he commands, watching as you comply without hesitation.

He felt his cock twitch to life at the sight of you on your knees for him. The power he held over you in this moment was heady and arousing. You smile up at Alastor, meeting his gaze as you palmed his rapidly hardening cock. You were going to enjoy this, you decided.

“Fuck Al, is this for me?” You ask, your eyes dark with lust as you begin to undo his slacks.

His smile softens as he brushes your hair out of your face, already anticipating the feeling of your mouth on him. “It is, my dear. Now how about you put that mouth to work, hmm?”

You smile, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free him. His cock slaps against his lower stomach, the tip leaking precum. Grasping his length, you eagerly lean forward. You stroke his cock slowly, licking a long stripe up his length before closing your mouth around him. Alastor groans, his hand tightening in your hair as you begin to move.

He watches you with half lidded eyes as you eagerly work him with your hand and mouth. With a snap of his fingers your phone appears in his hand. He turns it on and captures a photo of you sucking him off. He sent it to Vox before tossing your phone aside.

“Just like that my dear,” Alastor praises as he rolls his hips, forcing you to take him deeper.

Vox was stubborn. He knew he had hurt you but he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that kissing you had been fucking fantastic. He didn’t want to confront the way it had made him feel, the way you made him feel. But he knew he needed to, so he had texted you.

He was hoping to breeze past the apology portion and sink himself inside your warm heat. He wasn't good with apologizing, hell he wasn't good with emotions period! He had hoped you'd accept, that you'd come to him so you could talk and then fuck. Instead you replied that you had “Better things to do.” He knew that he had hurt you, but he hadn’t truly realized how much until he saw your message.

He groaned, falling back onto his bed, his phone falling from his hand. Fuck, he thought bitterly. He knew he had to try to get through to you, had to apologize for real, and he had to mean it. Which meant facing what he didn’t want to face- his feelings for you.

His phone pinged with your text tone and he shot up, scooping up his phone and opening the text. He froze. His heart dropped as he saw the text that awaited him. It was a photo of you with your lips wrapped around a cock, a hand tangled in your hair as you looked up at the camera. He knew those hands but the caption confirmed that it was Alastor. “Beautiful, isn’t she, old pal?”

Vox felt his screen bluffer, angry arcs of electricity sparking off him. His hand tightened around his phone hard enough that it shattered in his grip. That motherfucker! How dare he touch you? Vox shot to his feet, teleporting himself into the nearest electric device. He wouldn’t let Alastor have his way with you, he would save you from that old-timey prick. Vox would make sure of it.

Alastor grunted, knowing that it wouldn't be long until Vox got there, he pulled you off his cock. Helping you to your feet he crashed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply. He pulled back, fixed his pants, and swept you up into his arms. He carried you to his bed, dropping you unceremoniously onto it.

You gazed up at Alastor as he began to remove his pants, feeling a confusing mix of emotions. You wanted him, wanted this, but a part of you was still subconsciously thinking about Vox. He was your best friend and you were in love with him. Yet he clearly didn't feel the same, so you had a decision to make; either you let Vox go or you got hurt.

Alastor's voice pulled you from your reverie, “Strip, my dear.”

His tone was low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. You take a deep breath to calm your fraying nerves and make your decision. Without further ado, you pull your shirt off, tossing it to the side, before unclasping your bra to free your breasts. You lay back, pushing down your pants and panties to leave you completely bare for him. Alastor's eyes darkened with desire as he crawled above you, settling in between your thighs. He hiked your legs around his shoulders, leaning in to lick a stripe up your entrance. You gasp at the contact, arching your back as he closed his lips around your clit, sucking lightly.

“Oh fuck, Alastor!” You whimper, a moan falling from your lips as he thrust two fingers into your soaked pussy.

He worked you with efficiency, his fingers curling up to caress your g-spot. His mouth worked in tandem as he pleasured you, his tongue swirling around your clit between light nips and sucks.

It didn’t take long for Vox to locate your phone through the electrical grid. He zapped out of it, walking right into Alastor’s room. He froze as soon as he did, his eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. Here you were, moaning and writhing on Alastor’s bed as he ate you out.

“You son of a b-” Vox began, taking a step towards the bed, intent on tearing Alastor off of you.

Without pulling away from you, Alastor snapped his fingers. His magic dragged his chair over, the feet scraping on the wood. It knocked Vox off his feet, and he let out a startled yelp as he fell back into the seat. Shadow tentacles wrapped around his arms and legs, binding him to the chair. He struggled against the binds, his eyes snapping up towards you as he heard you cry out.

“Alastor!” You beg, your body quaking as you get closer to your release, “I'm so close! Please, please, please.”

Vox felt a cold shock of anger and jealousy run through him as he watched Alastor double his efforts and bring you to release. He opened his mouth to object just as you cried out, but found a shadow tentacle across his screen, muffling his yell. He clenched his teeth, glaring at Alastor as the demon pulled away from your dripping core. He climbed up your body, positioning himself at your entrance, his cock nudging against your sensitive clit. You gasp softly, fully aware of Vox’s presence. You were trying your best to ignore him and the way your heart clenched at the distress in his voice.

Vox pulled and thrashed against his shadow binds, yelling obscenities that were muffled by the shadow across his mouth. He tried to tip the chair, tried to scooch closer, tried to turn it away. But his attempts were futile, he was completely powerless, unable to escape from Alastor’s tight binds. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he was forced to watch his rival sink his cock into the woman he was in love with. Vox, much to his displeasure, felt his own cock twitching to life at the sight.

You mewled as Alastor entered you, wrapping your arms around his neck, as if to ground yourself. He was big, bigger than Vox, but fuck did it feel good. You bury your face against Alastor's neck as he began to fuck you in earnest, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts. You tighten your hold on him, trying to focus solely on the Radio Demon and the pleasure he was giving you. But you found yourself looking towards Vox. His eyes were wide, full of a mix of jealousy and hurt. The sight made your inner walls clench around Alastor, who grunted in return, his pace slowing as he noticed your distraction.

“At-ta-ta, eyes on me, little doe.” Alastor scolded you, tilting your chin back up towards him before capturing your mouth with his.

“A-Alastor,” you whimper as he kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone.

“That’s it my doe, keep your focus on me,” he praises, pushing your legs up against your chest to slide deeper. “Tell me, my dear, who’s bigger, me or Vox?”

Vox shouted around the shadow tentacle in objection at the question, his ego bruised. He knew, just by sight alone, that Alastor was bigger.

“You are,” you whine, your eyes fluttering shut as Alastor's cock punished your cervix with every deep, hard thrust, “Fuck, you’re so much bigger, Al.”

He chuckled, smirking against your skin as he picked up his pace, his hips slapping against yours loudly. Vox groaned from his place in the chair, his cock painfully hard and aching for release. He hated that he was turned on, hated the idea of Alastor being bigger than him, but more than anything, he hated that Alastor was bringing you pleasure. It should have been him. That realization made his heart stutter, and suddenly Vox understood what was happening; this was his punishment for hurting you, for being so callous with your feelings.

Vox threw his head back against the armchair, shame filling him and mixing with his arousal. He was angry, not just at Alastor for this show, but at himself for the way he had treated you. He clenched his teeth, listening to you gasp and moan beneath his rival, his hips bucking upwards as he searched for friction. He felt defeated, this was completely justified, but fuck!- If he could just touch himself!

“I’m so close, Alastor.” You breathe, arching your back as you roll your hips down against his. “Don’t stop.”

But Alastor had other plans. Smirking, he slowed down his thrusts until he was leisurely fucking into you, ruining your orgasm. You whine as he pulls out of you, leaving you empty and wanting.

“Not yet, my dear.” He murmurs, flipping you onto your stomach before pulling you up.

The change in position brought you face to face with Vox. His eyes were dark and stormy as he fought his anger and lust. You swallow hard, opening your mouth to say something, anything, to him when Alastor thrust back into you. The words die on your tongue, turning into a pleasured cry as he returns to a steady rhythm.

Alastor pressed his chest against your back, his lips brushing against your ear, “Tell me, my dear, do you think Vox should be allowed to touch himself?”

You gulp, your eyes flickering away from Vox’s down to the obscene tent in his pants. “Y-yes,” You murmur, granting Vox a sliver of mercy.

Alastor hummed, loosening the tight control he had over his magic. As soon as Vox felt the magic slacken, his hand flew straight to his crotch. He palmed himself before moving to free his aching length from the tight confines of his pants. A strangled noise escaped him as he closed his hand around his cock, pulling it free. Vox’s eyes never left you for a moment, watching your tits sway as Alastor took you from behind.

Vox found himself shamelessly matching his strokes to Alastor’s pace, imagining that it was him buried in your tight cunt instead. He watched as Alastor slid his hand up from your hip, over your stomach and breasts, to your throat. He tightened his hand around your neck, yanking you up until your back was flush with his chest. You yelp at the sudden change in position, feeling Alastor slide even deeper inside you.

“Alastor! Fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he moves his free hand between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit. Your legs shook, your entire body quivering as you grew closer, and closer, to your inevitable release.

“Let go for me, my doe,” Alastor muttered against your ear, his pace faltering as his own orgasm grew closer.

“Yes! Yes! YES!” You cry out as your climax rips through you, your body trembling in Alastor's arms as you cum hard.

Alastor groans, his hips stuttering and slowing into hard, deep thrusts as he reaches his own release. He grinds against your cervix, meeting Vox's gaze and holding it as he pumps you full of his seed.

Vox grunts as he meets Alastor's gaze, his cock jerking as he cums. Rope after rope splatters his hand and stains his clothes, but he keeps stroking himself, working himself through his release. He slumped against the armchair, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath, his hand finally stilling. Vox watched as Alastor pulled from you and let you collapse onto the bed, shaking and exhausted. That bastard’s seed leaked out of your used cunt, but Vox couldn’t deny the fact that he was still turned on. Damn Alastor, damn him!

“Now!” Alastor declared, standing up and tucking his spent cock away. “I believe you two need to have a conversation.”

He strides towards the door of his room, snapping to free Vox from the shadow binds as he goes. His red eyes scanned from Vox, rubbing his sore wrists, to you, just barely regaining your breath.

“Best of luck chums!” He cackles as he leaves, locking the door behind him, leaving you both alone.

You swallow nervously, meeting Vox’s gaze as you slowly push up on shaking arms. This was going to be an interesting conversation, that much you were sure about.

163 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

the devil can't have you.

chapter one.

explicit. 18+ only. - 4.3k+ - Alastor x f!reader

content: rivalry: Lucifer vs. Alastor, possessive behavior, obsession, jealousy, smut, blood, voyeurism / implied eavesdropping, marking / claiming, non-ACE Alastor

you laughed at the Morningstar’s joke — and Alastor made sure you screamed his name loud enough for all of Hell to hear.

The ballroom glittered like the throat of a dying star—opulent, suffocating, gilded in corruption. Every inch of Lucifer’s palace was polished decadence, from the stained-glass chandeliers dripping with ruby light to the polished obsidian floors that mirrored a thousand wicked smiles. The air smelled of perfumed sin and sweet rot, heavy with incense and the faintest burn of ozone, as if even the architecture held its breath in reverence or restraint.

Tonight’s gala was no mere display of infernal wealth. It pulsed with tension—something theatrical, electric, and cruel. There was music, yes: a haunting string quartet playing in minor thirds, the notes winding like serpents between whispered conversation and brittle laughter. But beneath it all thrummed something darker. The walls seemed to lean in. The candles danced too high. This wasn’t celebration. It was spectacle.

It was amusement.

You stood near the edge of the marble dais, your posture poised, the stem of your wineglass cool and delicate between your fingers. The liquid inside swirled like blood caught in a spell, darker than crimson, deeper than ruby. Your dress clung to you like shadow and flame — midnight velvet with glimmers of ember thread, its low back baring you to the flickering light and every covetous gaze it drew. You were made to be watched, and tonight, you were on full display.

Alastor was beside you, tall and composed, one gloved hand resting lightly — possessively — on the small of your back. His grin gleamed like a razor, his eyes narrow slits of broadcast gleam. Every inch of him radiated static elegance, the illusion of effortless charm sharpened into something dangerous. He murmured small barbs and flatteries to passing guests with his usual cordial sadism, but never once did his hand leave your body. Not for a second. Not until you sweely requested he fill your drink again — and even then it was full of reluctance.

And yet, across the room, Lucifer watched you with the patience of a god denied tribute.

He stood elevated on his own dais, surrounded by sycophants in gold-threaded attire and velvet cloaks. And still, his gaze never wavered from you. It bored through satin and skin and bone, so warm it was cold. He looked at you not like prey, nor prize — but as if he were the one holding your leash, and Alastor had dared to borrow it.

When he approached, the crowd parted without question. His presence rolled forward like a tide, calm and inevitable, drowning all conversation in his wake. He smiled as he reached you — slow, radiant, too white.

“Tell me, darling,” he purred, voice silk stretched over a blade, “how does one enchant a man like him?”

You blinked, not because you didn’t understand, but because your brain refused to answer fast enough.

“Pardon?”

Lucifer’s laugh was soft and lilting, like the final chord of a church hymn as it echoes off ancient stone — too beautiful to be trusted. “Alastor,” he said, as though tasting the name. “He’s been circling you like a predator since the moment you arrived. Unusual, for him. I was beginning to think his appetites had gone entirely stale.”

The thought of his appetites going stale pulled a soft giggle from you, the crinkles at the edges of your eyes that Alastor had grown so fond of kissing forming briefly. He, unfortunately, took it as an invitation to press his luck.

His gaze dropped to your wrist, where his fingers brushed lightly, as though testing the pulse. The touch burned, not hot but divine — an echo of Heaven still lingering in the devil's skin. His thumb stroked once, just enough to make your breath catch.

“Do you even know the power you hold?”

It wasn’t a compliment. It was a warning. A mirror held up too close. A reflection through him you didn’t want to see.

Before you could shape a reply, the atmosphere shifted like a radio dial snapping to a new frequency. Alastor reappeared, his shadow preceding him in sharp angles. His smile didn’t change, but the air around him did — cooler, crackling faintly, as if the entire ballroom had drifted into a broadcast lull.

“Ah, Lucifer,” he said sweetly, his voice honey-glazed static, a dangerous edge threatening beneath the cracks. “Always the charmer. But let’s not flatter my dear too much — she might begin to think she belongs to someone else!”

He tilted his head just slightly toward you, his grin tightening at the edges.

Lucifer’s grin widened in turn, all teeth and sacrilege.

“Oh?” he asked, gaze flickering lazily between the two of you. “Tell me — do you love her, or do you simply hate the idea that I could?”

Alastor’s fingers, still nestled against your spine, pressed in harder. Not enough to hurt, but enough to speak. Mine. He didn’t feel it necessary to answer a question with such an obvious answer.

The moment hung there like a held breath, thick with the scent of ancient rivalry and something far more primal. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. Alastor’s grip flexed. And you — caught between divinity and distortion — felt your own blood begin to sing.

Lucifer took one slow step back, the smirk never leaving his lips. His gaze flicked lazily from Alastor’s clawed hand at your spine to your parted lips, your breath caught like prey between them.

Then he chuckled — low, intimate, the sound of stained-glass cracking under pressure.

“Careful, Alastor. Keep clutching her like that, and someone might think you’re afraid she’ll stray.”

His eyes slid back to yours, warm and unhurried.

“You do wear danger beautifully, little one,” he murmured, voice curling around you like smoke. “Try not to let him smother the shine.”

And with that, Lucifer turned — not retreating, but receding, like the tide before a storm — and vanished into the gala’s gilded gloom.

Your lips parted to speak again, but Alastor was already circling. Not like a man — like something older, coiling. The air grew tight with invisible threads, radio static weaving into the edges of your hearing. A thousand distant voices whispered nonsense beneath it all, like channels caught between stations.

“Funny, isn’t it?” he murmured behind you, his breath ghosting your ear. “He always did enjoy watching the stars burn out. There’s something exquisite about the moment right before collapse. So bright. So final.”

One gloved hand slid around your waist, fingers splaying possessively over your stomach. The other crept higher — up your spine, between your shoulder blades, guiding you subtly back against his chest.

“I’ve seen it,” he continued, voice low and rich with static. “He did it to kings. To angels. Even to his own daughter.”

You stiffened.

He smiled against your neck, lips not quite touching. His grip tightened — subtly, not painfully, but with intent. Anchoring. Binding.

“But tonight…tonight he didn’t watch them.” His mouth brushed your temple, your cheek. “He watched you.”

His hand at your waist slid downward, palm flattening against your hip, holding you still.

“Not just a glance. Not just curiosity.” His voice dipped lower, static wrapping the words like barbed wire in velvet. “He watched you the way a man watches a feast he’s been fasting for. The way a hunter watches a wounded fawn stumble.”

You turned your head slightly, but his grip didn't allow escape — he followed, pressing in.

“And you glowed for him,” Alastor hissed, his grin faltering at the edges. “He made you shine. You laughed, and the sound caught in his throat like a hook.”

His hand moved again, this time gliding up your chest, fingers brushing the base of your throat.

“Do you know what it’s like to hear that?” he whispered. “To feel it — on every station, across every thread of static — your laugh lighting up for him?”

He leaned in closer, cheek to cheek, his smile now a trembling thing, stretched too wide.

“I should cut his ears off for listening.”

You inhaled sharply.

Alastor laughed, soft and terrible. “But I won’t. No…no, he deserves to hear what comes next.”

He bent, lips grazing the skin below your jaw.

“Because you’re mine,” he purred, tongue flicking against your pulse like a metronome. “And I’m going to make sure he never forgets what that sounds like.”

His voice was dipped in that awful sweetness again — like sugared poison. He took a step closer. Then another. Until the hem of his coat brushed your knees and the air between you crackled like a live wire.

You swallowed, every nerve on edge.

“…Are you angry?” you asked at last, voice small beneath the weight of him.

Alastor stilled.

Then: a low, velvet laugh.

“No, no, my dear. Anger is so uncouth,” he cooed, almost lovingly. “This?” His fingers slid higher, curling just under your chin, tilting your face toward him. “This is inspiration.”

His grin returned, terrible and sharp.

“I’ve never been so motivated to compose.”

“Why does it matter then?” you asked, quieter than you meant. “You said you weren’t angry.”

“I’m not,” he cooed, tilting his head. “I’m simply jealous.”

He leaned in then, almost nose to nose, his smile feral. “Because I know exactly what he saw in you. And I know he wants to take it for himself.”

His gloved fingers finally touched your chin — gentle, guiding, lifting.

“But he won’t,” Alastor murmured. “Because I saw it first. I tuned into your frequency before he even knew you existed.”

A flash of something darker flared behind his eyes. “You’re already mine, sweetheart. The dial’s been set.”

His thumb brushed your lower lip.

“And I’d rather ruin you than share.”

You didn’t move at first. Neither did he.

Alastor’s fingers lingered at your chin, still poised like a conductor holding the final note of a symphony. His grin had not faltered, but it no longer reached his eyes — it hung there, brittle and bloodless, as though carved from porcelain.

For a moment, the room felt like a coffin. Velvet-lined. Airless.

Then, just as suddenly as the pressure had risen, it fell away.

He stepped back.

Composed himself.

Adjusted his cuffs.

And offered you his arm like nothing had happened.

“Shall we?”

You hesitated. But your hand slid into the crook of his elbow nonetheless.

The hall outside was quieter than it should have been. Even the shadows along the walls seemed to draw back, afraid of proximity. Alastor hummed a pleasant tune softly as you descended the grand staircase — an old jazz refrain about heartbreak and hellfire, off-key in places, like he was letting it rot on purpose.

No one dared look at you.

No one dared stop him.

You felt the weight of it trailing behind you, not your dress, not your heels, but the gaze of a devil you hadn’t known you’d tempted.

You didn’t speak much on the way home.

Alastor was all old-world elegance: arm hooked through yours, his gait measured, his smile serene, a quiet hum trailing from his lips like a lullaby soaked in formaldehyde. He offered pleasantries to passersby, nodded to the shadows that bowed at his presence. But something about him felt too precise — too measured. Every movement laced with tension so tightly wound it became indistinguishable from grace. Like a ballroom dancer spun too many times, the mask barely clinging.

Like a marionette waiting for the strings to snap.

The cold outside clung to your skin even as you entered the Hazbin Hotel, the warmth inside doing little to ease the chill crawling up your spine. Red velvet and flickering neon cast the familiar halls in their usual infernal glow, but it felt different now — uncomfortably close. Like the walls had heard something they shouldn’t.

He said nothing as you climbed the stairs.

When you reached your suite and pushed the door open, he followed without being asked. Still humming that same, saccharine tune — something old, something half-forgotten, a warbled relic from a phonograph long broken. The notes trailed him like fog.

He didn’t speak. Not even when the door clicked shut behind you.

Then came the lock.

Then the seal.

The faint, ghostly whisper of enchanted wards slithered over the frame. Sigils shimmered on the wood for a breath before vanishing, replaced by a low hum, like a radio tuned just slightly off-station. The air turned viscous. The corners of the room dimmed. A single bulb flickered once, then stilled.

Your back straightened. Instinctively. Your fingers tightened around the hem of your dress.

“Alastor— ”

“Do you know,” he interrupted, voice level and unblinking, “how many frequencies he listens to?”

His silhouette stretched across the floor in the dim light, casting his grin longer than his body. He took a step forward, still smiling.

“How many walls his voice passes through? How many rooms it reaches — even when he isn't there?”

You turned to face him fully now, your heart climbing its way up your throat. “Alastor, it was just —”

“He heard you laugh.” His tone remained calm, almost conversational. But his eyes gleamed with something serrated beneath the static. “He saw your eyes shine for him. For Lucifer.”

His name hung in the air like sulfur. Like a challenge.

You opened your mouth, breath catching on the rise of protest, but Alastor was already moving. Not quickly. Slowly. Casually. Like the inevitable walk of a storm toward your doorstep.

“Alastor, I didn’t —”

“Oh, darling.” The word curdled sweet in his mouth. His grin split wider, crueler, almost joyous in its blade-edge clarity. “I insist that I’m not angry.”

Another step.

“I’m inspired.”

His shadow swallowed the distance between you. One gloved hand reached up — not to strike, not to grab — but to gently brush a strand of hair from your cheek. Tender. Reverent. Terrifying.

“You let him see the shine in you,” Alastor murmured, his voice a velvet snarl. “But let me show you what it reflects when it’s truly mine.”

The room buzzed louder. The hum was inside your teeth now.

And the strings — those invisible, buried strings — tightened.

The air was thick with tension, and magic, and something darker still — possessive hunger coiled just beneath the surface of civility. The hum in the room wasn’t just static anymore. It was a low, electric throb, like a tuning fork buried in your bones, responding to the fury behind Alastor’s calm.

He stepped closer. One step. Then another. Until your spine met the wall with a soft thud, and you realized — too late — that the exit was no longer an option.

Not that you’d ever exit his stage.

He leaned in, not with menace, but with dreadful control. His hand rose, slow as smoke curling through a cathedral, and brushed another lock of hair from your face. The motion was gentle — loving, almost. But his fingers lingered too long. Pressed too deliberately behind your ear, like he could tune you if he tried.

“You laughed for him,” he said again, voice like syrup left too long on the burner.

“I laughed at a joke —”

“You touched his arm.”

“He reached out first —”

“You let him look at you.”

That silenced you.

Because he was right.

You hadn’t stopped Lucifer. Hadn’t looked away.

Alastor’s smile cooled like a dead flame, all polish, no warmth. Calculated. Cutting.

“That’s the thing about being mine,” he murmured, tilting his head just enough to let the light catch the sharp edge of his grin. “It’s not spoken — it’s proven.”

And then his mouth was on yours.

He didn’t wait for permission. He never did.

The kiss was a strike — not soft, not coaxing, but claiming. His lips crashed into yours, all sharp edges and static. You tasted iron and ozone and something sweeter beneath, like rot soaked in red wine. His teeth scraped your lower lip — not by accident. It was a warning. A mark.

His hands, gloved and sure, clamped at your waist, dragging you forward into him until there was no space left at all. Your body sparked under his touch, nerves alight, trembling. The hum of his power wrapped around you like radio cords, unseen but unmistakably there.

Then he turned you — suddenly, dizzyingly. The room spun. The world shifted.

You hit the bed, silk sheets hissing beneath your body like water on a hot pan. Before you could rise or even breathe, he was over you — on you — climbing your form like smoke, like wrath given form. His legs bracketed yours. His presence swallowed the light.

“Let’s make sure he hears everything,” Alastor said, and his voice had changed — lower, more primal, deliciously cruel. “Since he clearly so adores listening to you.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

He smiled down at you like a showman stepping into the spotlight. Too wide. Too bright. Wrong.

“Oh, he’s listening,” he purred, gesturing toward the door. “I made sure of it.”

He leaned in close, his mouth at your ear. “Every moan. Every scream. Every time you beg for me instead of him.”

Your mouth opened, words faltering on the edge of protest or surrender — only to choke off into a gasp as he shoved your thighs apart, one knee slotting between them with sudden, merciless force. His hands gripped your flesh with bruising intent, not to hurt but to brand.

The look in his eyes was pure theatre — rapturous, commanding, entertained.

But the way his hands trembled just faintly said more: jealousy wasn't the root of this — it was the spark. Obsession was the fire.

And tonight, he was going to burn you down for the world to hear.

Clothes vanished in flashes of red and sound, torn away with the wild abandon of a storm breaking free. There was no ceremony here — no delicate unbuttoning or slow slide of fabric. His claws raked at the delicate weave of your dress, ripping straps and shredding silk until it hung in ragged shards, barely clinging to your skin. The remnants fell away like dying embers, pooling silently on the floor beneath you.

He left you bare. Vulnerable. Breathless.

The cold air kissed your exposed flesh, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him — the quiet storm of desire crackling in every measured breath, every tense muscle.

Alastor knelt between your thighs, the world narrowing to the curve of your hips and the sharp edges of his presence. For once, that maddening grin softened — dimmed — not from restraint or denial, but from a hunger so deep it was almost worship.

His pupils dilated, black and shimmering like twin voids pulling you in. His lips parted slightly, a breath caught between adoration and appetite.

“I’ll make you sing,” he whispered, voice low and rough as static sliding over wire. His tongue traced a deliberate path, slow and reverent, from the hollow just inside your knee, crawling upward over silken skin, inching toward the secret warmth of your inner thigh.

Every nerve in your body ignited.

His mouth descended next — a soft, searing touch that silenced all thought. The world ceased to exist beyond the exquisite, burning pressure of him against you.

The way his lips moved, slow and precise, was a language older than sin itself. He mapped you with whispered promises and silent commands, each kiss a note in a song only he could compose. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady even as your breath hitched and your heart hammered a wild tattoo against your ribs.

You moaned for him — such a pretty sound.

“Do you hear that?” he murmured between kisses, voice trembling with a fierce, beautiful madness. “That’s the sound of your surrender. And I will broadcast it — far and wide.”

Your body trembled beneath his worship, every touch a spark setting fire to long-dormant shadows inside you. You were caught in the tempest of his obsession — both captive and willing participant, lost to the primal, reverberating chorus of need and possession.

His tongue was ruthless — deliberate, skilled, cruel in its worship. Every flick, every press of flesh against flesh was a vow, a claim, a promise to unravel you piece by piece. He traced the most sensitive contours of your skin with the precision of a maestro conducting a symphony of ruin. Warm, wet, commanding, he explored you with a hunger that felt ancient, insatiable, as if he were tasting your very soul.

Your back arched involuntarily, spine bowing beneath the weight of his attention. Fingers clenched in his thick, unruly hair, tugging at the strands like lifelines. Every moan that ripped from your throat was a raw, ragged note — each one coaxed out of you by his expert ministrations, each one echoing in the charged silence around you.

The heat pooling deep inside you built faster than you could contain it, swelling until the edges blurred and your breath came in shallow gasps.

But he didn’t let you fall. Not yet.

His mouth pulled away just before the breaking point — leaving you suspended on the edge of madness, trembling, desperate. His grin was sharp and merciless, an artist pleased with his masterpiece unfinished.

“What’s the matter?” he purred, voice thick with amusement and something darker, possessive. “You don’t want to finish before our guest gets to the good part, do you?”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he flipped you onto your stomach, his movements fluid and forceful all at once. Your body hit the mattress with a soft thud, sheets sliding beneath you.

One hand pressed firmly to the small of your back, anchoring you. The other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise — pain and pleasure mingling into an intoxicating elixir. His fingers left a trail of fire where they pressed, marking you.

Then he thrust into you — deep, rough, primal.

The sudden fullness shattered your restraint. Your scream tore free, raw and ragged.

“Louder,” he snarled, voice warping with static, distorted and beautiful. “Let him hear how I fuck you.”

He drove into you with brutal rhythm, a relentless percussion of skin against skin that sent shockwaves through every nerve. Your muscles clenched around him, trembling with overstimulation and desperate need.

Alastor bit down on your shoulder — hard enough to draw blood. The sharp sting was quickly replaced by the slick warmth of his tongue, licking the wound clean with savage care. His grin was feral, a beast exulting in its prey.

“You’re mine,” he growled low in your ear, teeth grazing your skin. “Mine to break, mine to praise, mine to ruin.”

He shifted you again, dragging you up and turning you until you straddled his lap. The sudden change in angle sent new waves of fire through your core. His hands gripped your hips like iron handles on a machine, steadying you even as he thrust up to meet your movements, forcing you to ride him with fevered intensity.

Your mind unraveled — thoughts shattered, replaced by raw sensation. Breath came in ragged bursts, your body pushed beyond any limit you’d known before.

“Say my name,” he commanded, voice a velvet whip.

You obeyed. Again. And again.

“Alastor.”

“Louder.”

“Alastor!”

“Again!”

“Alastor!”

He claimed your mouth with a kiss then — deep, wild, a desperate worship that left you gasping for air. Again he shifted until he was atop you, driving into you with a renewed force you’d experienced before — he never lasted much longer like this. His hands tangled in your hair, holding you captive with fierce adoration in his violence.

He drove you to climax after shattering climax, holding you at the precipice of sensation until your sobs spilled freely, tears mingling with sweat and the sting of his teeth.

And then, finally, he came — moaning low and guttural, voice shuddering with release as his fingers bruised your skin in a final, possessive grasp. The room thrummed with his power, shadows twitching and pulsing like living things caught in the wake of his storm.

He collapsed on top of you, breath ragged, heat radiating in waves.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soft now, almost tender. “Good, good girl.”

You shuddered beneath him, wrapped in his arms, coated in sweat and bite marks and the magic that lingered like a third skin.

In the quiet that followed, his lips brushed against your ear.

“I’ll send him a recording tomorrow.”

You almost laughed. Almost cried.

But instead, you whispered his name again. Just once.

He smiled.

And outside the suite, the faintest crackle of power flickered — like a wire gone hot, humming with dark intent.

Lucifer sat upon his throne — a monolith carved from shadow and regret, towering above the cavernous expanse of his palace. The crimson velvet beneath him was untouched, save for the faintest imprint where the glass of wine had sat, now cold and forgotten. His fingers curled around the armrests with a quiet intensity, knuckles blanching beneath the weight of unseen fury.

The vast hall was deathly silent, yet beneath the surface, something pulsed — a distant, persistent echo woven into the very stones. It was a tapestry of sound: screams strangled into whispers, gasps caught between fear and longing, murmurs heavy with devotion and pain. Among the chorus, one voice threaded through with uncanny clarity — Alastor’s, weaving like a dark melody, and yours, trembling, raw, fragmented.

Lucifer’s eyes closed, lashes brushing against pale skin as he breathed in the reverberations. The echo clawed at something deep within him — a spark of ancient hunger, twisted affection, and burning jealousy.

“Oh, Alastor,” he murmured into the empty hall, voice low, laced with something dangerously close to admiration and warning. “You are afraid.”

There was no smile in his words, no softness in his tone. Only a cold, deliberate edge — like the sharp blade of a blade just drawn.

Yet beneath that stillness, his fingers clenched tighter on the armrests, white and trembling. Behind his closed lids, the flames in his eyes flickered — alive, sentient, and cruel. They danced with shadows older than sin itself, reflecting a darkness that had long ago learned to wait, to watch, and to strike.

“Good.”

The single word hung in the silence like a promise. A threat.

A reckoning waiting to ignite.

MASTERLIST.

372 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

Crimson Lullabies

You stood in the nursery—small, tucked into a converted room upstairs—with soft wallpaper of vintage roses and a rocking chair that creaked as you sat gently cradling her.

Your daughter.

Tiny and swaddled in a blanket embroidered with red thread. Her eyes, a deep crimson like her father's, blinked sleepily up at you, still adjusting to this strange new world.

“I thought you were resting,” came the silky, sing-song voice from the door.

Alastor.

He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a grin plastered across his face, but his eyes—those glowing, ever-watchful eyes—were softer than usual. You watched him approach, his radio aura unusually quiet, like even it knew to hush in the presence of something pure.

“She wouldn’t settle without me,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over your daughter’s cheek. “She’s got your stubbornness already.”

Alastor chuckled, that eerie, vintage cadence crackling at the end. “Then we are doomed, my dear. But how splendidly so!”

You rolled your eyes fondly as he kneeled beside you, long fingers reaching out to gently touch the baby’s hand. She gripped his finger almost instantly, her tiny brows furrowing in determination. Alastor’s face stilled for a moment, the mask slipping ever so slightly as he stared down at her.

“So small,” he murmured, almost to himself. “And yet already claiming the world one finger at a time.”

“You’re smitten,” you teased.

He raised a brow. “I’m simply fascinated. It’s not every day a demon gets to witness new life—especially one of his own blood.”

You looked at him, feeling your heart swell at the rare flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “She has your eyes.”

“Yes,” he said, voice low. “But your warmth. I hope she keeps that.”

You shifted slightly, letting him take the baby into his arms. He moved like she was made of porcelain, cradling her with uncanny care for someone with such a… violent reputation.

He began to hum.

A haunting, slow jazz lullaby from a forgotten decade. The melody hung in the air, curling around you like smoke and silk. The baby’s eyes drooped, lulled by his voice, the rhythm, the safety she somehow sensed in his arms.

“You’re good at this,” you whispered.

“I’ve had centuries to learn patience. But… love?” He looked at you, a crooked smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’s newer territory.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, watching your daughter sleep peacefully against his chest.

“She’ll be lucky to have you,” you murmured. “Even if you tell her scary stories at bedtime.”

Alastor laughed again, low and warm. “Only the classics, dear. Every princess needs a little danger in her tale.”

Outside, the crimson sky of Hell remained as twisted and chaotic as ever. But inside this room, in this moment, with you and the baby in his arms, Alastor was quiet.

He wasn’t the Radio Demon.

He was a husband. A father.

And—though he’d never say it aloud—completely, helplessly in love.

333 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 1 month ago

Text

alastor (hazbin hotel) x female!reader

Summary: Alastor surprises the reader with a beautifully eerie picnic set in the bayou-themed half of his room, complete with glowing food, haunting jazz, and his signature theatrical charm. Though unnerving at times, his careful attention and rare vulnerability show just how much he likes her — even if he insists he’s not the romantic type.

A/N-I am back in my home state! So like I said before Alastor fic was on the way and here it is I hope y' 'all like it! I also am a Megan Moroney fan and "6 Months Later" is a ABSOULTE VIBE. Lucifer fic is in the works! :))

You hadn't expected him to invite you. But he did.

He didn’t really seem like the type to plan something as quaint and tender—like a picnic. And yet, here you were. Standing at the threshold of his half-actual room and half-bayou wonderland, staring into something that looked like it belonged in a twisted dreamscape, pulled straight out of a southern gothic painting.

The bayou part had murky water that shimmered just beyond the edge of a moss-covered platform. Cypress trees rose into curling shadows, and glowing fireflies bobbed lazily through the heavy air. There were vines, twisted roots, and the haunting hum of cicadas… and somewhere far off, the whistle of an old-timey jazz horn crackled through invisible speakers—probably coming from his radio.

Then there was him.

Standing in the middle of it all with a pristine checkered blanket laid across a large flat stone, with a waterfall falling behind him. Alastor beamed. He was dressed to the nines—bowtie perfectly centered, and that crooked grin glued to his face like it was etched into bone.

“Ah, there you are, darling!” he said in his usual charmingly demented lilt. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten eaten by a gator on the way in. Would’ve been a shame! They always get full before I can interrogate them.”

You just stared at the scene in front of you. Then blinked at him. “You… did all this?”

He gave an exaggerated bow. “Why, of course I did! Only the best for my guest of honor!”

Your heart couldn’t help but flutter. Or maybe it was just the buzz of the bugs overhead. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble…” You rubbed the back of your neck. It was a nervous habit you tended to have—and he had always noticed.

“Nonsense!” His grin twitched. “Trouble is my favorite ingredient. Besides…” He stepped closer, offering his hand like a proper host. “You deserve a setting worthy of your beauty.”

Oh.

You blinked again. And he clearly noticed, because his grin deepened. With a flourish, he took your hand and guided you to sit beside him on the blanket. A strange woven basket sat at the center, filled with food that looked delicious—and just a little… off. The cornbread sparkled. The jam pulsed. The lemonade glowed a faint, suspicious green. You weren’t even sure if it was edible.

You picked up a teacup, inspecting it. “Should I be worried about this glowing?”

He leaned in, resting his chin on his hand with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “Only if it starts talking.”

You stared.

“Kidding!” His laughter crackled like old vinyl static.

You didn’t laugh. You still weren’t used to when he cracked an actual joke meant to be funny. For all his unnerving quirks, he was oddly attentive—fixing your plate just how you liked it, pouring your drink first, even offering you a perfectly folded napkin made of vintage linen.

He kept stealing glances at you, as if quietly checking to see if you were impressed, if you were enjoying yourself. He liked you—and by now, you could tell. You weren’t sure why someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but even if he didn’t say it out loud… this showed it.

When you complimented the scenery, he lit up.

“Really? Why, thank you! I modeled the moss off an old swamp I used to haunt—added a few extra will-o’-the-wisps for drama, of course.”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the edge of his radio dial, his voice dipping lower—just a bit softer.

He continued on, telling you stories about his radio show, the people he had made deals with, and the ones he’d tortured. And… you couldn’t help but giggle. He gestured with his hands as he spoke. The static grew louder when he talked about the torture parts.

“I… I wasn’t sure what you’d think. I don’t exactly entertain like this.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t take people into your room?”

“I don’t take people into my world.” His smile thinned into something more sincere. More… shy. “But you… fascinate me.”

The static around him buzzed gently—not violently like it usually did. And for once, it wasn’t screaming madness. It was background music. Faint jazz. A soft trumpet crooning like a lullaby from the past.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he added, with a slight tilt of his head.

You shrugged, smiling gently. “Should I be?”

He paused.

“…Yes.” Then he chuckled, dark and velvety. “But I’m terribly glad you aren’t.”

You spent hours there, just talking. At one point, you swore something swam past under the water, and Alastor just grinned wider. “Ignore him. He’s shy.” That made you laugh out loud.

Eventually, you leaned back on the blanket and stared at the glowing canopy overhead.

Alastor lay beside you, one leg crossed over the other. “If I were the kind of man who believed in romance…” He turned his head slightly toward you. “…I’d say I’ve fallen headfirst into it.”

You just looked at him with wide eyes. “Al…”

He turned away with a sly smirk, red eyes glowing. “But fortunately, I’m not that kind of man.”

You laughed softly and nudged his shoulder—something he didn’t even brush off.

“Right. Of course not.”

Still, he reached over and gently placed a vintage red rose beside your hand. It bloomed unnaturally wide, the petals curling like smoke.

“Don’t press it,” he said, voice teasing.

You raised a brow.

“It hisses.”

221 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 2 months ago

Text

Too Hot in New Orleans

(Human!Alastor x f!Reader)

CW: GRAPHIC SMUT. Alastor being a tease, referenced death, referenced violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (one day I'll have a pretty banner thingy like other people do) - THIS IS AN 18+ STORY

(CRAZY thank you to my girl @degen-fics for betaing this for me and making sure i didn't use the same words/phrase 50+ times <33)

If you enjoy this, want to talk about this besides on Tumblr, or just want to - maybe come join the VoxTech discord server where I'm feral as fuck. And also there are some other amazing artists, writers, and fans! https://discord.gg/e6GXYCwqtu

-----

Hot. It was just too hot. Every inch of you dripped sweat in the unrelenting summer New Orleans heat. The thought of even the littlest of clothing made you too warm. Even your slip had been peeled away in a desperate attempt to cool down. You laid on the cooler wooden floors of your home, a silk robe discarded nearby. There was nothing on this planet that could move you from this only mildly cooler spot.

As if summoned by the very thought, there was a knock at your door. You groaned, hoping they'd go away. Opening the door would mean more heat and you couldn’t handle even just the idea of that. You closed your eyes, just wanting to be cool. Please go away, you pleaded with them silently. But some things were not to be.

After a moment, there was a pause in the knocking and you imagined they'd be listening at the door to hear if anyone was home. Thankfully, your bare form was tucked out of sight from the door. It'd be a scandal if anyone could see you lying naked in the parlor of your home. No proper young lady would dare!

The knocking resumed and you groaned again. Wasn't it obvious that no one was home or didn't want to answer the door? You startled when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. Alastor... good gracious, how could you have forgotten about your plans? Quickly, you sat up, calling out, "Be right there!"

Standing, you quickly draped your robe around your form before answering the door. You opened it and instantly greeted Alastor, your smile matching his own. Before he could say anything, his smile faltered.

“Hello, Alastor! I--” You started to speak before you saw his cheeks start to turn pink as his eyes darted down your form then quickly back to your face.

"Perhaps I should come back some other time since you are.... Ahem… indisposed." He averted his eyes, something he never did, favoring eye contact. You glanced down and let out a soft startled noise akin to a squeak. The silky robe you put on was falling off one shoulder and open down to your navel, showing one of your bare breasts to the famous radio host.

"Al, I am.... oh my God, I'm so sorry!" Gasping, you clutched the silk robe closed so as to not expose yourself any more. Your cheeks burned as you fumbled over another apology, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes out of sheer horror.

There was a long moment of silence that scared you more than anything. “Cher..." Alastor's voice was lower, more gravelly than you'd ever heard before, notably without his usual radio perfect transatlantic accent. A moment passed, as if he was trying to decide what to do next.

You watched him with wide eyes, feeling your skin prickle under the scrutiny. Was this the end of your pseudo-friendship with him? You opened your mouth to speak but never got the chance. He pushed forward into your home, making you stumble back. The front door shutting behind him sent a chill down your spine. It felt so… final, but you had no idea what to expect.

For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was shaking breathing and eerie silence. Then, Alastor leaned forward, one hand softly cupping the left side of your face as he delicately pressed his lips to yours. You let out a small gasp before pressing your lips against his, scared but too enthralled to draw back. He pulled back for a moment, eyes seeming to search yours for something. You didn’t know what he looked for, but you nodded before he closed the tiny gap between the two of you.

The second kiss sent another unexpected chill down your spine. Kissing Alastor felt so dream-like; never had he expressed interest beyond friendship with you. The faint early attraction you had to him never fully faded, but you were content enough with the situation. For him to now kiss you like this, react like this… it was a fantasy come true. You couldn’t believe this was real, but if you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up as you moved your lips against his.

Carefully, Alastor placed a hand on your hip and closed the gap between you, pressing against you lightly to make you step backwards into your home. You let him guide you as the two of you continued to kiss, too distracted to care where Alastor took you as long as the kissing didn’t stop.

It didn’t take long for your knees to press against the couch and you eased yourself down, finally breaking the kiss and his hold on you. Breathing hard, you stared up at the smiling man hovering, hesitating over you. “Do you want this?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Despite it all, he was still a gentleman.

Instead of answering verbally, you reached out and fisted the fabric of his shirt, having abandoned his usual suit in the unforgiving heat. He used one hand to hold your wrist before you could try to pull him down on top of you. “I need your words, cher. I… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once we…” His voice trailed off, leaving you a little breathless at the implication of you making him lose his careful control, making him crack from his perfected radio persona simply by showing him your body.

“Alastor,” his name sounded like a prayer from your lips as you tugged his shirt despite his grip on you, “I want this. I need this.” Something behind the radio host’s eyes seemed to change and it sent a spark of desire through you as he let go of your wrist, leaned down and closed the distance again, biting your bottom lip before kissing you.

You released your grip on his shirt as he closed the gap between you. Instead, you slide your hand over his shoulder and the nape of his neck, his hands wrapping around your waist. Thick brown curls tangled around your fingers as you tugged lightly. Alastor growls into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back long enough for you to get a good look at him. His eyes were wild, but stern. “Don’t tug, darling. I’ll have to tie you up otherwise.” Oh. That sent some thrill straight through your body. Your heart raced as you stared at him, mouth open and chest heaving. “Oh cher, you look good enough to eat.”

Alastor leaned back down again, kissing you even deeper than before, using his tongue to push past your lips. It felt like he was going to consume you, and you wanted nothing else. You arched your back to press your upper body to his; the silk of your robe teasing your nipples into hardness, sending an electric pulse to your loins. He swallowed your moan before sliding his hands down your back, gliding over the silk robe, to angle your hips against his. Arching into him, you moaned again when you felt firmness against your inner thigh. He broke the kiss and pulled back enough to stare into your eyes, and you whimpered. Another smile tugged at his lips, before he licked his lips. “I’m going to savor you…” He promised in a whisper before pulling away slightly. “But not on your couch, cher.”

Alastor stood, pulling his arms from behind you. His eyes scanned over you and you could only imagine the picture you painted, panting and staring at him with your robe barely covering you anymore. Despite the heat, you shivered and bit your bottom lip, tearing open the tender flesh. Blood started to spill from your lip and his eyes focused on it with a sharp, thrilling intensity. Shakily, you took in a deep breath and felt the silk robe start to slide down your shoulder again as you started to sit up from the couch. “Alastor…” It was hard to recognize your own voice, low, gravely and breathy.

He extended his hand to help you up. As you grabbed his hand, it felt like he was on fire, just like you. It took barely a tug of his hand for you to be pressed against him completely again, barely balanced on your feet. Quickly, he pressed his lips to yours again, tongue swiping at the blood from your lip. A wave of arousal crashed through your body again as you pulled away, hand still in his, and pulling him towards the stairs. His lips were stained a faint red as you stared at him.

To you, there was nothing in the world but you and Alastor. Not even the oppressive New Orleans heat could compare to the desire burning in your heart and loins. You led him through your home, up the stairs, and to your bedroom, glancing behind you every few steps to make sure this wasn’t a fever dream. He followed, grin still in place.

As soon as the two of you reached the bedroom, Alastor closed the door behind himself. “Darling, I simply must taste you.” You gasped as he spun you to face him, the light silk of your robe flying open. His eyes trailed over your skin, slowly moving from your lips to your neck, down to your exposed breasts and tightened

nipples, tracing over your soft stomach and down to your most private area. Nervous, you bit down on your bottom lip and tried to move your arms in front of your body. Him being fully clothed… it felt surreal to be bare in a way no one but perhaps your mother had ever seen. Having forgotten you held one of his hands in your own, it startled you

when he pulled the arm away from you. “No, cher. Let me see you. Let me worship you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Please, my darling…” Hearing the proud man beg for you, your knees nearly gave out beneath you. You moved your arms out of the way and released his hand to shrug the robe completely off, breathing hard.

“Alastor…” His name felt like a prayer falling from his lips. “Alastor, please…” you begged him breathlessly. He didn’t hesitate to close the gap between your bodies. One hand reached up to cup your cheek as he kissed you again. You felt the soft cotton of his shirt brush against your skin, teasing you even more. Shifting your legs, you could feel moisture between your thighs - the moisture that previously only came when you touched yourself.

Alastor’s other hand drifted to your waist and pulled you completely against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. You shuddered at the feeling of him straining against his pants, opening your mouth to let his tongue move against yours again. His hand moved from your bare waist, up your side with the softest of touch so goosebumps formed, slowing down along the sides of your breasts. He pulled away to stare into your eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re lovely, far too lovely for this lowly sinner… but I will cherish you as you’ve never been cherished before. Is that alright, my love?”

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he reclaimed your lips for a passionate kiss then moved his lips down to your neck. He pressed delicate kisses to the column of your neck, moving down with each one. “Alastor, please… I, I don’t know if I can stand much longer.” You barely recognized your voice, breathy and desperate as it was. He pulled away from his kisses, grinning as both of his hands moved to your hips, gripping the fat of them tightly.

“Of course, cher. I’ll take care of your every need.” He lifted you with ease and moved in such a way for your legs to be wrapped around him. The very core of your being pressed into the hardness in his pants and you let out a breathy whimper. “Oh, you make the best noises. I wonder what others I can get from you.”

There was no way he didn’t feel your wetness seeping into his trousers and the thought made you blush and try to hide your face in his neck. He chuckled before he took a step forward and then leaned down. “Let go, darling,” he ordered once you felt the softness of your neatly made bed against your back.

You obliged and fell back onto the bed, sprawled out so he could see every single inch of your body. His stare felt like electricity running through your body before he slid onto his knees. He hovered over your naked form, looking intensely at you as your flushed chest heaved. “Do you still want me, cher?” The whisper felt heavy in the moment and you knew he’d stop if you asked, but that was the furthest thing from your mind.

“Yes, Alastor, please.” You reached up, lightly tugging him down on top of you, him having to brace himself with his arms to not fall completely on you - it was one of the few times he seemed just as off balance by this as you. Your lips met again. Intoxicating was the only way to describe his kisses - every move made you warm like whiskey, just as addictive on the tongue. He obliged you a few kisses before starting to kiss down your neck, each spot tingling for a moment after every time he pressed his lips against your skin.

Once he reached your collarbone, he switched from soft kisses to playful bites. His teeth scraped lightly against your bone and you shivered at the intense feeling. “Al…” He hummed in response before switching back to kisses as he kissed down the center of your chest, trailing towards your breasts but stopping for a moment as he reached the skin in between them. His eyes darted up to meet yours before he moved to begin kissing and nipping at the mound of your breasts. An animal-like whine escaped the back of your throat at the sensation of his mouth on you; the whine turned into a keening noise as he slipped his tongue over your nipple before dragging it into his mouth. He started to suck lightly against your breast, making your back arch towards him. His hand slid behind your back, your nipple hard between his lips as he held you close.

A light graze of his teeth against your nipple made you moan louder than you ever imagined. You felt him grin against your breast before he sucked a little harder. Your hands clawed at his clothed back, needing desperately to touch him, to let him know how good he made you feel. His chuckle against your back made your nipple

vibrate, sending another sharp flash of arousal to pool in the bottom of your stomach, maybe even leak out of you with how you were spread out underneath Alastor. After a few more moments of sucking, he pulled away; a string of drool stayed connected between your nipple and his mouth as he moved to the other breast to give it the same attention. His hand on your back flexed, nails starting to press into your skin and trailing down in claw marks down your spine. Instead of pain, the pressure made you whimper again. “Alastor, Alastor, please.” You chanted his name, desperately wanting him to do more; whatever that was.

The clawing down your spine stopped right at the small of your back and he pulled away from your nipple with a tiny last lick as he looked at you. You could only imagine with mild horror how you must look. Completely bare to a man that was fully dressed, not even one courting you as your breasts heaved after having your nipples teased even further.

“Beautiful, cher. Simply beautiful.” He praised as he slowly drew back to kneeling on the bed, pulling his arm from behind your back. You smiled at the compliment before watching with rapt attention as his hands came up to his neck before he started to untie his bow tie. Letting out a shaky breath, you watched as his nimble fingers moved. He

started to unbutton his shirt once the tie was tossed to the side. It was a sin, what you were doing. But as the first button came undone, as you saw more of his chest, the less you thought of heaven and hell. No, your eyes stayed on him, flicking up to his face to see him watching you with hazy eyes.

Before popping the second button on his shirt, he stopped. His smile turned mischievous as he instead took a small step back from the bed before falling to his knees. The change in angle made you gasp as you moved to stare down your body to see Alastor staring at your bare sex. Instinctually, you tried to close your legs but strong hands grabbing your knees kept you bare to him. “Now, now, cher. I did want to taste you…” He trailed off as he used his grip on your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed, bringing your sex only inches away from his face. You let out a gasp at how close he was as he moved his eyes to meet yours. “I just know you’ll be the sweetest thing I’ll ever taste.” He cheekily winked at you before leaning closer, still smiling.

Your head fell back against your blankets when you felt his breath against your bare skin. His hands slid from your knees up the front of your legs until he grasped your hips again. A whimper escaped you and he chuckled before pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your left thigh, your right thigh, then just above your wet slit. It felt like forever and an instant all at once as he slowly licked his way into your slit. His low groan seemed to reverberate against your skin; your back arched at the intense sensation.

Alastor took no time licking further into you, lapping at the wetness that he caused. Immediately, you had no thoughts in your head besides a chant of his name. The only thing you could look at was the white ceiling as you made noises you didn’t think anyone was capable of making. His tongue moved against your lower regions, dipping in and out of you and his hands slid from your hips down to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The idea of him leaving marks on you, a physical reminder of the intense pleasure he was giving you… You moaned loudly again and he paused in his tongue motion to look up at you.

“Eyes on me, cher.” He commanded and you obeyed without question, propping yourself up so you can watch him devour you. His grin widened before he moved back in. But instead of going directly back to your slit, he licked his way a little further up until it felt like live electricity was running through you. You desperately tried to keep your eyes on him, whispering his name at how ethereal he was making you feel. “Ah, there she is…” He focused all of his attention on the nerve, sucking it into his mouth and pressing his tongue against you.

“AL!” You screamed his name, eyes clenched shut . He didn’t pull away, instead choosing to continue lavishing attention on the sensitive nerve ending. After a moment, he stopped sucking and instead just gave it the tiniest licks. It completely escaped your notice that one hand slid away from its resting place on your thigh and moved in between your legs. The lightest bit of pressure from his fingertip against the entrance to your body made you whimper his name again. “Al… Alastor, Alastor… please…”

“Shhh, darling,” he cooed in between licks. “I have to prepare you. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” The questions made you shudder, arousal overwhelming you. A moan came from the back of your throat as his tongue pressed against your clitoris and the tip of his finger started to enter you. You clenched your muscles as Alastor continued to push his finger in and out of you while his tongue worked against the sensitive spot. It felt like time stopped as he slowly licked and fingered the place that was only meant for your future husband, but all you wanted was Alastor. Nothing but Alastor. Slowly, you felt a second finger join the first, stinging at first but slowly he worked you open. He started moving faster than before; the squelching sound obscenely loud besides your panting breath. “Al… Al…” It felt like the only thing you could say was his name.

Slowly, he pulled his mouth away and you saw the way your slickness coated all around his mouth, shining obscenely in the daylight. If your mother wasn’t already dead, you’d send her straight to the grave with how you were acting. You whimpered as he gave you one of his charismatic grins and then pressed a sweet kiss on your thigh. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he praised you easily before curling his fingers against a certain spot inside you. Spots danced in front of your eyes at the intense feeling, your whole body tensing up at each touch. He hit again and again, making sure to keep his eyes locked on you as he gave you ecstasy. “Do you want another finger, sweetheart? Can I prepare you to take my cock?” The only response you could manage was a long whine of his name as his fingers found that spot again and pressed, holding there until it felt like you were about to lose your mind. He pressed a kiss to your lower stomach, just above where his fingers were working in and out of you, as a third finger joined the first two.

The stretch hurt more than you thought - it’d been so good until now. You tried to pull away but Alastor’s other hand moved to your stomach and pinned you there as he moved in and out of you. “I…I…” You struggled to get the words out as he kept you in place with his hand and his eyes.

“Does it hurt, mon cher?” Amusement tinged his voice. “Poor thing… what if I just…” His words trailed off as he pressed the spongy spot again, making your back arch. The pain faded as he continued to move his fingers inside you. “There she is… my pretty little thing… such a darling, taking me so well.” Hearing his praise made you roll your hips against his hand. “Oh? Does she want more?”

You didn’t finish nodding before he slowly pulled his three fingers out of you. Your throat went dry when he licked his fingers to clean your wetness from his skin. “You really are delicious, cher.” He stood again to his full, towering height and you felt so bare and vulnerable as his eyes raked over every visible inch of your skin. “But to really savor you… I’m going to have to ruin you.” It sounded like a promise and you nodded in agreement, reaching for him.

But, Alastor didn’t let you reach him before he started unbuttoning his shirt. His dexterous fingers moved quickly, button after button falling open and baring his skin to you. Scars marred his skin, light indentions against his darker skin, and you made yourself watch the man’s hands as they dropped to his trousers. “C…can I?” You finally managed to speak, biting at your bottom lip. “I… I want to… you know.” Raising a hand to your lips, you hoped he knew what you wanted without you having to say the scandalous words. His fingers never stopped moving as he took off his belt, carefully setting it off to the side, though leaving his shirt open and fluttering around his chest.

“No need, cher. I much rather have all of you.” He gave you a charming grin and wink as he slowed down but still started to unbutton his trousers. Your mouth went dry as he pushed the pants and underwear down to the floor, revealing himself to you as intimately as he was seeing you. Head swimming a little, you wondered how he’d… fit inside you. He looked much larger than three fingers and that was painful at first. “Don’t panic, darling. I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, drawing your eyes from his narrow hips up to his face. “Now be a good girl and move so you’re completely on the bed.”

There was a pause before you complied, moving to lay across the bed properly as it felt like there were a thousand butterflies in your stomach. You glanced quickly at the vanity that showed you how flushed you were, how debauched you look. A chuckle drew your attention back to Alastor as he moved closer to you. His warmth radiated from his skin as he climbed onto the bed next to you before positioning himself almost on top of you. The silky skin of his cock brushed across your thigh as he moved, drawing a breathy noise out of the back of his throat, one of the few noises he’d let slip during the whole time.

The two of you met eyes and you felt like you couldn’t look away; he must have cast a spell on you to make you feel like this, to make you want him this badly. Alastor leaned down to kiss you again, his teeth grazing your tender lip. Not wanting to be an inactive participant any longer, you wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His tongue pressed against yours as you felt him adjust on the bed before you felt something brush against the bundle of nerves he’d found before. It took you a moment to realize that it was his… He greedily swallowed whatever mewling noise you made before prodding the tip against your entrance. “Relax for me, my love. It’ll hurt less.”

Alastor distracted you with another tender kiss as he rolled his hips forward, using one hand to guide himself. His tip caught on the edge of your entrance before sliding in. The pain struck like lightning. “H…hurts…” you whimpered and he tensed for a moment before stopping moving. Closing your eyes tightly, you wanted to move away from him but his weight kept you on the bed.

“I promise, cher, it gets better, just relax.” He shushed you, pecking you between each word he whispered against your lips. “I’ll make you feel so good… just…” His hips moved forward, pushing him further into you. Your body stretched around him, clenching against the intrusion. He hissed out your name as he stilled his hips again, moving the hand from his cock to hold onto your waist.

The touch made you open your eyes again, taking in the wild expression of the man on top of you. Alastor’s eyes looked predatory as he gave you a smile with a shaky exhale. “Just a little more,” he promised before moving his hips more. You felt his hips press against yours and you never felt so full and whole, even with the pain of stretching around him. “You’re mine now, cher,” he promised in the stillness of your room. “I’ll never let you go now.” The possessiveness made you shiver and he hissed at the feeling.

Another moment passed before he looked deep in your eyes, looking for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he started to move his hips back. The movement made you whine a little, the pain fading a little as he moved out. You could tell Alastor was starting to lose control because he wouldn’t stop talking - babbling, really, about everything he was feeling. “You’re so tight, so perfect for me…” Overwhelmed at the praise, you captured his lips in a kiss, desperate to find the pleasure he promised.

As soon as it was just the tip of his member inside you, he started to push forward again, a little faster than before. The air seemed to be pushed from your lungs as the pain returned, though not as sharply as before. Alastor shifted his hips slightly to the left and the tip pressed against the spongy spot he’d previously found with his fingers. It felt like fireworks were going off in your head as pleasure shot through you. Was it possible to feel this good without him inside you? You doubted it and never wanted to try. Moaning, you moved your hips against his, wanting more. A choked laugh escaped him as you wiggled underneath him. “Shhh, cher, I’ll give you everything you want and more.” He promised, pressing his forehead against yours and exhaling as he pushed back into you sharply, hitting that spot and stretching your hole against the base of his cock. “Do you trust me?” You didn’t even need to think before nodding. His ever present smile turned a little sharper, a little more dangerous. It sent a thrill through you, knowing this man was all yours.

Moving his hands, he intertwined his fingers with yours gently. He guided your hands above your head, all the while slowly fucking himself into you with a ferocity that should have sent you running but it was too late; he ruined you, just like he promised. “Keep your hands here,” he ordered before pulling his hands away. The backs of his hands trailed down your arms, along the sides of your breasts before pausing to squeeze them and flick at both nipples at the same time. He punctuated the movement with another hard thrust that was almost too deep, a touch of pain coming back but the pleasure never fully ebbed away.

Your hands twitched as you tried to keep them where Alastor told you as his hands moved down from your breasts, tickling along the soft roundness of your stomach before clutching at your hips with bruising force. He nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing kisses to the soft, tender skin; you could only imagine the number of marks he was leaving on you. A tiny groan escaped you as he thrust his hips into you again, moving faster. Pressure was building inside you and you were only vaguely aware of what was happening to you. It never felt like this with the few innocent touches you’d ever given yourself. “Al… Al, please…” You didn’t know what you were pleading for; all you knew is that you wanted - needed more from the radio personality turned your lover.

“You want more?” Alastor spoke mostly into your neck before biting down a little harder than before. You cried out his name as he started to suck and lick at the tender spot. “I’ll give you everything I have and more, cher.” Your heart fluttered at the promise and you could almost imagine being married to him, having him take you like this every night. Whimpering, you arched your back and moved your hips against his as he moved faster and faster within you. He hit that magic spot within you with each thrust and you felt your everything tightening as you seemed to near a peak, closer and closer to tipping over from the sensations he was stirring inside you.

Alastor squeezed tighter on your hips and hissed into your neck. “You’re so soft, so good for me, my darling. You squeeze me so well, making me want to give you a baby.” A gasp escaped you before you could stop it, quickly thinking of you being round with a child, his child, and him giving you as many babies as you wanted. “Is that what my girl wants?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from whining what someone could only assume was a yes. He grunted and with a sharp thrust, it felt like a dam within you broke. Your whole body trembled at the overwhelming pleasure, fireworks shooting behind your eyelids. It only took a few more strokes of his hips before you felt Alastor collapse gently on top of you, face still buried in your neck.

Several moments passed as you laid on your bed, drenched in sweat and trying to catch your breath under your lover. He pulled back and pressed a small kiss to your forehead, following one on your nose then lips, more chaste than any other you’d shared in the afternoon. You moved your arms down from where you’d been holding them to brush a hand over his sweaty hair, laughing lightly as you realized he’d never taken off his glasses, leaving them askew on his face.

Slowly, Alastor pulled out of you and you blushed as he stared at where you’d been joined. You could feel his seed spilling out of you, making you blush as you tried to cover yourself. “It’s a little late for that, darling,” he cooed as he moved off the bed. With him standing in front of you, you took a moment to admire him as you sat up. “I hope it was… satisfactory for you?” The formality of the question made you laugh louder than perhaps you should before nodding.

“You’re wonderful, Alastor,” you assured him as you slid to the edge of the bed. He offered you his hand and you took it, standing next to him, feeling the slick of his release beginning to slide down the inside of your thighs. “I’ll run us a cool bath. We should be able to cool down.” Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to Alastor’s cheek before going to the bathroom to run the two of you a bath.

----

It hurt. When you realized that Alastor left while you were in the bathroom, daydreaming of a future that would never be. The news broke a few days later - Alastor, famed radio host and darling of New Orleans was the Bayou Butcher. Rumors said he died while cannibalizing his latest victim. You threw the paper away as quickly as you could, avoiding the radio entirely. That day… he could have killed you as easily as he fell into your bed. And then he vanished into the afterlife before you could even ask him why.

243 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 3 months ago

Text

INTRODUCTION / MASTERLIST - MARKSTER666 (18+) ♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

Hello everyone! I'm a 20 year old psychology student with a love for writing. Welcome to my one and only writing (and shitposting) account. I have a hard time sticking with one fandom, but I mostly write reader inserts being paired with canon characters. I do take requests as well! Please check my bio to confirm that requests are open.

A lot of my content involves mature subjects and I strongly advise anyone under the age of 18 to steer clear from my profile.

MASTERLIST:

Last Updated: 2/29/24

Total Works: 22

Hazbin Hotel:

SFW:

Alastor:

Every Thought, You. (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Alastor Reacting To Stereotypical Activist Gen Zer

NSFW:

Alastor:

Breeding B*tch (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Tentacles (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Cleanliness Is Next To - Oh Wait. (Alastor x Fem!OC RP Thread)

Good To Be Back On The Air! (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #1: Dry Humping (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #2: Face F*cking (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #3: Begging (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #4: Masturbation (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #5: Daddy Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #6: Overstimulation (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #7: Praising (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #8: Sound Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #9: Mirror Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #10: Orgasm Control (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #11: Face Sitting (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #12: Lingerie Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #13: Deep Throating (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #14: Roleplay (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #15: Food Play (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #16: Car Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #17: Toys (Alastor x Fem!Reader) Kinktober Day #18: Uniform Kink (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #19: Morning Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader)

Kinktober Day #21: Unprotected Sex (Alastor x Fem!Reader) -I skipped #20-

Anybody (over the age of 18) is welcome to show up in my dms and chat with me or put in a request! I don't bite.

It is NOT guaranteed that I will do your request nor is it guaranteed that I will do it quickly. I get writing blocks sometimes or I just genuinely can’t think of a good plot for your scenario yet but I’ll try my best.

SMUT / NSFW REQUESTS ARE ONLY CONSIDERED / ACCEPTED IF YOU HAVE CONFIRMATION THAT YOU'RE AN ADULT ON YOUR PROFILE. THANK YOU.

I have a pretty screwed up mind and will write about a lot so really, throw a prompt at me lol. I will also NOT do oc x oc, character x character, and character x oc.

FANDOMS

Helluva Boss

Hazbin Hotel

Five Night's At Freddy's

Harry Potter

South Park

SAW

WILL NOT WRITE (LIMITS):

P*dophilia

Scat / Pee / Vomit play

Female on Male Domination

N*crophilia

(If you have a taboo topic you want me to write about but I don't have it listed, feel free to ask!)

Vore

Thank you so much for visiting my blog and I hope I can hear from some of you soon!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

607 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 3 months ago

Note

I have a request that has been sparked to life by that demon form!alastor fic you posted (thanks to you and anon who requested btw, i've now unlocked the monster fcker kink i never knew i would ever have but that's beside the point)

Anyway the request is simply: Alastor hate fcking reader 😇

{I had no idea what to really do with this so I’m sorry if its not up to expectation}

Morningstar!Reader x Alastor

Themes: 18+ SMUT SMUT SMUT!!! hate fucking, humiliation, pet play, power play, face fucking, horn grabbing, tail pulling, creampie, biting/marking/claiming, I’m probably missing something but just know its NASTY

Alastor hated you.

The moment you came to visit Charlie and told her you would help, he hated you.

He hated how you carried yourself with such grace and dignity.

Hated how you remained in control no matter what.

He hated the power you wielded.

He hated you.

At least that’s what he likes to tell himself.

He let out a deep growl as your cunt fluttered around him; coating him in creamy slick.

You let out a soft whine as he lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, causing your cunt to take him deeper at the new angle

”A-Ala-stor!”

He hated how pretty you looked under him, face flushed and eyes scarlet.

If this is what heaven looked like, he would claim redemption right now.

“All that talk about redemption and look at you” he sneered with a harsh thrust “Cummin’ on a demon’s cock like a common whore” another thrust as he leaned his face down to yours, long tongue licking up your face.

You growled and with some force willed yourself to roll the two of you over with you on top. You moaned as you sunk down on his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Alastor let you seek your pleasure, head tilting as he watched you grind against him.

what a needy little thing you were

You gasped as you were yanked forward roughly, confused, your eyes drift down to see a smirking Alastor. You made an effort to try and lean back, to ease the drag of his cock against your insides, but Alastor had a steel grip on your horns.

He sneered up at you as he pounded up into your soppy heat.

”Always in need to be in control, but dont worry ill fix that”

A clawed finger found your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into the little nub.

You thrashed your head to get him off but Alastor had a grip and the force of your struggle made you topple over and slip of his cock.

Crashing onto your side, you tried to regain your balance but let out yelp as a weight crashed onto your back, hauling your hips up, forcing you into an arch.

Clawed hands mended your ass, taking moment to appreciate your form.

A slap to your ass made you jolt.

then another and another.

You whined at the stinging sensation that burned your ass.

A hand grabbed your swishing tail and yanked you back, his dick slapping against your weeping cunt.

”You’re no different from a common sinner” he dipped his tip inside you.

”Nothing but a pretty pet waiting to be ruined”with another yank of your tail, you were impaled on his cock.

He hissed as he bottomed out, wrapping your tail around his wrist as he gave you a few harsh thrusts.

H wanted to ruin you.

To break that heavenly persona you held onto.

Filling you to the hilt, he set a harsh pace.

Reveling in your wanton cries and moans.

”this cunt was made to be ruined” Alastor growled setting a hand on your back to keep you arched as he pounded your poor cunt.

You clawed at the silk sheets beneath you, trying to find an anchor in the midst of him fucking you.

”Ah Ah darling” a hand found your hair and pulled, bending your head back to hear your delicious cries.

”You’re gonna take everything i give you”

”You’ll let all of Hell hear that one of its princesses be treated like a wanton slut”

”That a demon such as myself was the only one who has the right to fuck you into submission”

each humiliating taunt was greeted with a powerful thrust and a sickening squish of your wet heat.

Sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder.

”You’ll cum on my cock and sing your praise of gratitude that it is me that allowed you such a courtesy.” You whimpered as his thrusts felt like they were trying to burrowing into your very soul.

There was a ring of cream forming at the base of his cock.

Alastor chuckled deeply “You like that my dear? You want me to claim this cunt as mine so all of Hell know who bred this cunt?”

You sobbed as your orgasm ripped through you, moaning as he rapidly thrusted into your pussy.

”P-please” you whined through clenched teeth, feeling him hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly.

”What was that? I couldn’t hear you”

He was using your tail to pull your against his thrusts, never slowing down.

”P-plea-Please cum in me…FUCk! Alastor!”

You gasped as he buried his cock deep inside you and emptied his cum inside your welcoming heat.

You felt a string snap and roared as trickles of your slick dripped down your thighs.

Alastor sunk his teeth in your shoulder and rusted into you as he rode out both of your releases.

Releasing your tail and hair, you shook on the bed in the aftermath of your fucking.

Panting you tried to regain your breathing.

You weakly protested as he flipped you onto your back, scurrying up your body til his cock laid on your lips.

Your eyes widened and you glanced up at him.

Alastor grinned at you

”I’m not done with you pet” he smeared your lips with your combined juices.

“Open those pretty lips” a hand forced your jaws apart and he purred as he sunk into your throat.

Taking your horns, he used them to bob you along his cock.

Your jaws ached, throat burning as he pounded your throat.

You gagged around him, but that didn’t deter him.

The sight of you swallowing his dick sent him over the edge and with a twitch of his dick, you whined as he spilled into your throat.

”that’s it. Take it. Swallow every drop i give you”

some of his cum spilled from your lips and you whined as he stayed buried to the hilt.

Satisfied, Alastor slid out of throat and grabbed your face, sneering

”despite your irritating presence, you will make a fine pet…yes my own personal little Hell slut”

2K notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 3 months ago

Text

🌿 Something is Lurking in the Water 🌿

8K notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 3 months ago

Text

428 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 3 months ago

Note

Fem Alastor and Angel reader please please please

[AngelY/N and Alastor walking in the streets of hell, Alastor showing him around with her usual gentleman like demeanor–While both having a conversation]

AngelM!Reader : W-Wow... This place... Is not too far on how I depicted it would be...

Fem!Alastor : My, expectation didn't falter? Chuckles... Well, darling, welcome to my new eternal home, Charming, isn’t it?~ A bit of ash and all the flair of a nightmare’s ballroom

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles... At least I know you can handle a place like this! There's... A lot of broken glass–

[AngelY/N hears a shatter of glass a few meters away–Seeing a demon walking in and took a small TV and running away]

Fem!Alastor : Don't mind that, my little angel~ that is a basic local culture around these streets, it is a–...Hm?

[Alastor seeing AngelY/N walk up to a ragged up demon, slumping on the curb with a black eye while drinking a bottle of liquor]

AngelM!Reader : Are you alright, sir? That bruise looks nasty—do you need some help?

[Alastor walking up behind AngelY/N with her usual smile, the demon grumble with a grumpy attitude]

"Tch–What's it to you heaven's leftover, walk away before I put this fucking bottle down your temple you–...!?"

[The demon stares at the side, seeing AngelY/N... But... He saw Alastor standing behind him—Statics of radio appearing around her and eyes being pitch black staring directly into the demon's eyes]

[The demon now absolutely sweating–Just a look from her made his soul start twisting itself]

"I-I mean I’m GREAT! Yeah-I'mfine! N-Nothing a little nap won’t fix!..."

[The demon scrambles off, tripping over his own tail before vanishing into an alley]

M!Reader : Uhh... what just happened?

[AngelY/N stares back at Alastor who has turned back to her usual self–With a graceful smile]

Fem!Alastor : Oh nothing, My angel~ He just remembered that some creatures require a different kind of kindness to behave~

AngelM!Reader : Hm, glad i could help him! He–Oof!

[AngelY/N felt Alastor's staff around his waist Pulling him back close to her–Alastor holding onto AngelY/N's cheek gently]

Fem!Alastor : Just remember this, My sweet angel, Never forget that this place doesn’t deserve such light from someone like you~

AngelM!Reader : ....

AngelM!Reader blushing : .....

163 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 4 months ago

Text

𝐀 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐖: P in V, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Brief mentions of murder and death, Abrupt ending (I ran out of ideas), and last but not least, pure, unadulterated smut with a dash of angst.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: This is 3.9k words of Alastor feeling ashamed for taking your virginity after sneaking out and murdering someone while you were asleep. He has a complicated relationship with sex, but your inexperience from your religious upbringing only makes him feel worse for not making your first time ‘special,’ so to speak. You, on the other hand, are brimming with excitement at the thought of being fucked—or devoured, as Alastor makes it out to be by portraying you as the prey, and he, the predator.

You never expected Alastor to consummate your marriage. When the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, you’d all but lost hope in the mere thought of fulfilling that sinfully tantalizing feeling that blossomed deep within your core in his presence. In fact, if he hadn’t taken you completely by surprise in the hush of a peaceful, Sunday night, rousing you awake by latching those large hands of his onto your hips, you wouldn’t have shaken off that gnawing belief that you were destined to a life of chastity—or worse, that he simply found you unattractive.

“Al?” You muttered, voice thickly laced with sleep, but the only response you received was the sound of his knees knocking against the footboard.

Your lips parted with a gasp as he pulled you down the end of the bed, his breaths short and rapid, his palms shakily sliding down to caress the back of your thighs. His touch was cold—so, very inexplicably cold, as if he’d washed his hands only moments ago—but you couldn’t muster the ability to question him. In your defense, it was impossible to formulate a single syllable as he effortlessly maneuvered you onto your stomach and, better yet, spread your thighs apart. It admittedly made you feel like a… like a whore, but you watched over your shoulder through half-lidded eyes anyway.

Waiting, anticipating his next move.

“Forgive me,” Alastor finally spoke, confusing you, but you assumed he felt as if he owed you an apology for waking you at such an ungodly hour.

Before you could say that it was alright, that you were willing to forgive him because he was giving you what you’d long desired, he bunched your nightgown over your waist and did something your virgin mind struggled to grasp in your drowsy state. He yanked your panties down to your knees, lowered his head, and pressed a filthy, open-mouthed kiss on your slick core. A scandalized gasp escaped your throat, your body jolting forwards, but his hands kept you in place. This? This depraved act, your parents hadn’t prepared you for this prior to your engagement.

They’d told you sex was only about penetration.

“What are you doing?” You cried out, but not in disapproval. You simply wanted to know what was the purpose, if it even had one to begin with.

“Preparing you,” Alastor spoke against your cunt, though the slurping, the greedy smacking of his lips, drowned out his words.

He was already drunk off of you.

Your taste, your smell—he couldn’t get enough.

You supposed you couldn’t complain, not when he moved his lips so deliciously across your folds, teasingly encircling that sensitive little bud you had never ventured to touch with the tip of his tongue. No, and it’s not like you’d dare to, either, shuddering at the way he closed his lips around your clit and suckled, repeating the act over and over, a pleased groan reverberating through his chest at the obscene mewl you tried to stifle by burying your face into the sheets. Even though it felt wrong having his mouth down there, you couldn’t help but push your hips back onto his face.

“Oh,” You softly whined as he sunk his nails into your thighs, leaving crescent moons in your skin.

The noises were embarrassing.

Schlurp.

Schlick.

Smack.

And filthy, so, so incredibly filthy.

Alastor ate you out like a starved man, paying no mind to how utterly debauched he felt by defiling his innocent, virgin wife so crudely. He had to get out all the pent-up energy somehow after committing a ghastly act a few hours ago, a twinge of guilt resonating in his heart at how clueless you were about the extent of his… hunting. The same hands that held you in place with a vice-like grip as he massaged your clit with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy? They’d also butchered some poor, unsuspecting fool walking home from a late-night shift.

He should have been asleep, next to you.

Instead, he snuck out and added someone else onto the long list of victims he had, and in a manner that was urgent, so to speak. No torture. A swift death. He couldn’t disappear for long without coming back home with an explanation, now that he was married; thus, he left the moment you drifted off into a deep slumber. And when he returned hours later, still reeling with adrenaline, an urge he rarely ever felt ensnared him at the sight of you, sprawled out on the bed in a flimsy little nightgown, sleeping. His cock almost immediately stirred to life, filling him with much shame.

Eventually, though, he relented.

He didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Alastor felt like such an animal—a predator—devouring his prey as you attempted to shut your legs closed and wriggle away at the foreign sensation slowly building up in your lower belly. It was overwhelming, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to run away from it or find out what it was; either way, your husband ultimately decided for you. A high-pitched cry escaped your throat as he lurched forward and vigorously sucked at your clit, swiftly bringing you over the edge. The pleasure, the euphoria, that surged through your body was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“Oh… oh my, that was…” You panted, tossing your head over your shoulder, watching him stand up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Good?” Alastor asked, his voice low, gravely.

“Yes,” You said, abashed.

“Well, I’m glad.”

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor hadn’t actually planned on doing anything past that. He just needed to release that pent-up energy, hoping that the adrenaline would dissipate soon after you came down from the ecstasy; but as he pulled back and watched your body slump onto the bed, displaying your swollen, fluttering cunt, his saliva and your pleasure dribbling down your hole, thick and milky, he internally sighed. It was tempting, too tempting, but not as much as the expectant look you shot him between bouts of heavy pants, eyes flicking down to look at his… slacks?

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you blinked, vision trying to adjust to the darkness.

Why wasn’t he wearing his nightwear?

“I thought I heard something odd outside,” Alastor was quick to say, and though you paused, you eventually nodded. “I changed before checking.”

He’d never given you a reason to not trust him.

But it was evident you remained a bit doubtful.

“And was there something… odd?” You asked, sounding rather meek. He shook his head with a gentle smile and a ‘No, my darling.’

If you still weren’t half-asleep, the thought of how strange it was that he’d changed at all would have crossed your mind. And while Alastor knew it had not, he quickly shrugged off whatever shame left in his bones, deciding that he couldn’t give you the opportunity to further probe. Thus, he placed a hand on his belt and encouraged you to lie on your back, trying to maintain his smile as you hesitated before rolling over and kicking off your panties. A soft, clinking sound echoed throughout the room, and it was then that the realization that he was finally going to make you his hit you once more.

It ultimately won over your confusion, your doubts.

And your excitement resurfaced, legs falling open with a slight tremble.

Well, until he got rid of the rest of his clothes, then you were suddenly feeling apprehensive. The revelation that now stood tall and proud before you made you wonder how on God’s green earth it was supposed to fit inside of you. Your knees came together, and your eyes—oh, those lovely eyes of yours—they made Alastor’s cock painfully throb. You were staring up at him through your lashes in a way that resembled a frightened little doe, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but revel in it. That was exactly what he liked about hunting… both animals and people. Especially people.

They always looked at him like that to appeal to his humanity, a last-ditch effort to save themselves. Alas, it never worked, because why would a predator relinquish its prey instead of satiating its hunger? It made no sense, and even less so when he found himself frowning down at the wonderful meal you’d deprived him of. You couldn’t leave him standing there, half-starved, not after he had finally tasted you. All the while, you assumed that he was simply disappointed as he stared at your legs, once open and inviting, now completely shut closed. He rarely ever frowned around you.

“Is it… will it hurt?” You asked him, the tentativeness of your question snapping him out of his thoughts. “I’ve never done, well, this.”

The corners of his lips instantly curled up.

“It’s quite alright, my darling,” Alastor said as he approached you, placing his hands on your knees and giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be uncomfortable, yes, but only for a moment,” He continued, slowly parting your legs, which you allowed. “I would never harm you.”

“Okay,” You nodded, feeling a bit comforted.

That was all that Alastor needed before revealing your core to his greedy eyes, pupils dilating at the filthy sight of your folds unsticking from each other with an obscene schlick. The sound made your face flare up in embarrassment, but you tried not to think much about it as you reached for the hem of your nightgown and swiftly pulled it over your head, exposing the delicate swell of your belly and your soft, supple breasts. Though you weren’t necessarily bold, the fact that he was looming above you, stark naked, put you at ease… well, that and the appreciative ‘Beautiful,’ he let out.

“Thank you,” You murmured.

“Of course,” Alastor said, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder, the head of his cock kissing your clit as he leaned in. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You nodded.

With his free hand, he grabbed the base of his length, giving it a few, experimental pumps before dragging it through your folds to lather himself up in your slick. You tossed your head back onto the bed, lips parting with a breathless moan, cunt already throbbing in anticipation. However, those small noises evolved into sharp gasps the moment he pushed the head of his cock into your entrance, your hands scrambling to clutch at his back. While the intrusion wasn’t exactly painful, the stretch was indeed uncomfortable, his length, long and girthy, making you feel as if you would split in two.

“Stop,” You shakily said, overwhelmed by the burning from the stretch. “Stop moving.”

He immediately stilled.

But he let out a tortured sigh as he felt your walls clamp down on him rather tightly.

“Easy now,” Alastor said, lowering his head, mouth wandering down to kiss at the column of your throat. “Relax. You must relax, otherwise, it’ll hurt.”

“How? I don’t know—” You whimpered, but his mouth never ceased its movements, drifting down to focus on your collarbones now. “Alastor?”

He didn’t respond.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he planted a firm hand on your midriff, his palm making a downwards descent at the same rate as his kisses. The entire affair was slow, torturous, even; but at the same time, you couldn’t help but be overcome by gratitude when Alastor’s mouth found one of your nipples, licking, sucking, and the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit, swirling it ever so gently. ‘Oh,’ You moaned out. It soothed the burn, the grip your walls had around his cock loosening. And as the stretch of his girth became more bearable, you told him that he could continue.

“Okay, okay. You can move,” You said, his lips pulling away from your nipple with a wet pop, thumb similarly retreating.

You were a bit disappointed by that—why did he have to stop?

But the look he gave you afterwards, appreciative, relieved, it made you feel a bit better.

“Alright,” Alastor said, pushing in, your walls swallowing him more eagerly. “Oh, look at you, taking me so well.”

He sounded so unlike himself, talking filthy and all, but it made your cunt flutter around him.

“I didn’t think it would fit,” You said, not knowing how else to respond to such words, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Why, of course it would, you silly little thing.”

You almost giggled, but then he grabbed the back of your knees and pushed them down beside your head, allowing him to bury himself deep inside your cunt. You cried out, and though the position made you feel so, so incredibly stuffed, you didn’t protest. The head of his cock was nudging against something sensitive, something nestled within your walls that you never knew existed until now. Unlike you, he was neither a virgin nor inexperienced, so the moment your face contorted with a look of bliss, eyes falling shut, brows furrowing, and lips parting, he knew exactly what he had found.

“Is that a look of discomfort?” Alastor teasingly asked as he slowly slid out of you, your eyes flying open and immediately darting to his face in panic.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Wait, no, it feels—” You started, but then he canted his hips forward and hit that spot within your walls, making you squeak, “—fuck!”

“Ah, cursing now, are we?” Alastor tsked, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours, his glasses kissing your brow.

“I meant to say good!” You weakly protested.

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Alastor said, repeating what he did earlier, sliding completely out of you before pushing back in, hitting that spot again, but hard.

You sunk your nails into his skin and arched your back, your hips closer together than ever before.

The pleasure was overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him have the satisfaction of being right.

“You’re a bad man,” You managed to say, but it was hard, speaking while he thrusted into you, “Doing—ah!—bad things to me.”

You were right.

He was indeed a bad man.

That shame he felt earlier, he felt it again.

“You don’t know the half of it, darling,” Alastor said, the meaning behind his words all but lost to you.

And with each thrust, he felt it over and over and over again, making him feel beyond just bad.

But you?

You were blissfully ignorant.

The only thing you were aware of was the onslaught of pleasure, new, raw, and unbridled.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted, no longer caring, nails dragging across his back and leaving scratches that would surely sting tomorrow.

Alastor supposed that he would forever live with the shame that came with fucking you, and in a manner that was wanton and desperate, too. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy squelching of your cunt as he buried his cock deep inside of your velvety walls, the high-pitched cries and vulgar chants, all of it was a telltale sign that he was taking you like a wild animal instead of making love to you like a devoted husband. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved your first time to be slow and gentle. You deserved better, and not just in general. You deserved better than… him.

That’s why he’d asked for your forgiveness.

He devoured your innocence.

Like the predator he was.

Ironically, you couldn’t be any more content. All your life, everyone had treated you like porcelain, handling you with tenderness as if you’d break. And though you never anticipated your first time to be so spontaneous, so… so much like this, you couldn’t deny how happy you were. You moved your palms up his back, caressing his shoulders and his nape before cradling his face, craning your neck and bringing his face impossibly closer to yours. The frame of his glasses dug into your cheek, but you only cared about kissing him, tongue tentatively darting out to swipe at his lower lip.

Alastor opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue around yours, heart throbbing in his chest at the gentleness you retained despite how hard he was plowing into you, your thumbs affectionately swiping across his cheekbones. All the while, his hands abandoned the back of your knees, attaching themselves to your sides and traveling up, up, and up, feeling your waist, your ribs, and especially your breasts, cupping the supple flesh in his palms before pressing his thumbs onto your nipples and softly squeezing. He smiled into the kiss at the way you jolted up, squealing in delight.

“Can you, um…” You asked between pants as you pulled away from the kiss, lips swollen and all, “Use your mouth on me again?”

“Of course, my darling,” Alastor said, but the shit-eating grin he put on made you skeptical. “But, pray tell, where exactly?”

He slid his thumbs down just below the hardened peaks, moving around them, teasing you.

“Oh, Al, you can’t be serious,” You whined in embarrassment, looking away from him and avoiding eye-contact. “Please… just—”

“Please just, what?” Alastor continued, his thrusts slowing down, but only because he felt himself getting close to finishing. “Well?”

“My… my… chest?”

He leaned down, eyes never leaving yours as he placed a kiss slack on the center of your chest.

The bastard, you mentally seethed.

“No, lower than that.”

His lips grazed your skin as he traveled lower, placing a kiss in between the valley of your breasts.

“Fuck, Al! Fine, my… my nipples!”

Alastor found temporary peace from his shame by being insufferable, thriving on the way you grew flustered at the mere thought of being specific. While he was a bit disappointed that you relented so quickly, he gave you what you wanted, moving his head to the side and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, tongue darting out to caress the hardened peak. You immediately moved your hands away from his face and buried them in his hair, gasping, cunt fluttering around his cock, nimble fingers threading themselves in his hair as he licked and sucked at your nipple.

“Mm, was that… was that so hard?” You sighed, making him roll his eyes, but he didn’t say or do anything past that.

You were just as close as he was.

So, Alastor left one hand on your breast, the other slithering down the swell of your belly and reaching for that swollen little nub throbbing with need against his pelvis. You unconsciously tightened your grip on his hair and tugged at his scalp when he pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit, swirling it in tandem with his tongue, but it wasn’t until you looked down to watch him work at your body that you clenched around him. He mentally cursed at you for that as he groaned around your nipple, the muscles in his abdomen tensing, hips stuttering and thrusts growing sloppy.

The hair tugging.

The pressure of your sweet cunt as his cock slid in an out of you, even while slowly.

You made him finish before you.

‘No,’ Alastor thought, filled with dread.

He pulled away from your nipple with a wet pop, staring down at you with a mixture of frustration and ecstasy as his cock pulsated inside of your walls, thick, warm ropes of his pleasure painting your womb. And you? Well, you let go of his hair, planting your elbows on the bed, eyes darting between his and where you two were connected. Realization quickly dawned on your face—this, your parents had taught you—but you didn’t understand why he seemed disappointed. Shouldn’t he have reacted the same way you had when he brought you over the edge… or at least similarly?

“Did I do something wrong?” You tentatively asked, looking up at him like you had earlier, like a frightened little doe.

His eyes softened, and he let out a sigh.

“No,” Alastor said, shaking his head as he pulled out. “No, you didn’t,” He continued, elaborating. “I just didn’t want to finish so soon.”

He pulled out his length, making you wince.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized as you tried to ignore the strange sensation of his spend dripping down your hole, but it was hard. It felt weird.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

Alastor actually wanted you to finish first, not only because he wanted to feel you come undone around him, but because he felt as if it was the least he owed you, all things considered. Thus, he pushed aside his frustration and dismissed your apology, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit once more. Your eyes palpitated, confused, but you opened your legs and watched him bring his other hand to your core, two long, slender fingers prodding at your entrance. You gasped, feeling them part your folds and easily sink into your cunt, curling up and caressing your walls.

“Does that feel good?” Alastor asked you, his movements purposely slow, feeling and touching around for that same spot.

You nodded your head, letting out a particularly loud moan when he found what he was looking for.

“Good, I’m glad,” He grinned, leaning in, but only to capture your lips in a kiss, and one without tongue this time around.

You fully sat up, one hand gripping the sheets to anchor yourself, the other reaching to cradle Alastor’s jaw as you craned your neck and returned the kiss, lips slowly and sensually gliding against his. His fingers sped up, the ones on your clit rubbing faster, the ones nestled deep inside your walls hitting harder, making your thighs tremble. You felt his cock stir to life, the head gently smacking against your leg; but he ignored it to focus on you, to focus on you walls tightening around his fingers and your lips slowing down, breaths coming in shallow.

He placed one last kiss on your mouth, which had fallen slack in pleasure, and pulled away. You didn’t protest. No, not at all, despite how nice it felt to kiss him. You could feel that familiar sensation in your lower belly building up as fast as he fucked you with his fingers, your head falling back with a series of high-pitched cries. Your thighs shook, your chest heaved, and your cunt drenched his fingers, the pleasure that surged through your body somehow better than the first time around. Meanwhile, Alastor watched you come undone, looking nothing short of satisfied.

“Beautiful,” He said, hands still moving, albeit slowly, allowing you to ride out the aftershocks of your pleasure.

“Oh… that’s…” You panted as you shut your legs closed and wriggled away from him, starting to feel overstimulated. “That’s enough.”

“Ah, forgive me, my darling.”

You offered him a wonky smile.

Alastor already knew that you’d say yes. You loved him, and that sentiment only grew twice-fold when he suddenly seized you by the waist, effortlessly hoisting you up into his arms. The night couldn’t get any better. You clung onto him, limbs wrapping around his lithe figure as he turned and made a beeline for the bathroom, laughing alongside you with delight. Still, that word—forgiveness—resonated in your mind long after you’d both washed up and went to bed. Pestering you, driving you mad, like a fly buzzing in your ear, refusing to leave no matter how much you swatted at it.

Your husband was kind and charismatic.

But apologetic? No, not necessarily.

To make matters worse, sleep didn’t come to you as easily as it did for Alastor. So, you laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about how he’d asked for your forgiveness, not once, but twice, as if he was unconsciously apologizing for something. It was strange… though you supposed there were stranger things that had unfolded earlier, like the change of clothes. Slacks and a belt to investigate a noise outside? You couldn’t begin to make heads or tails of it, not even now that you were lucid. Perhaps you’d question him later in the morning, you thought with a resigned sigh.

The night couldn’t get any better.

618 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 4 months ago

Text

Monsters are not safe anymore

Repost if he is not safe in your account askjdhajksdha

478 notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 4 months ago

Text

Levi: "I am not a dramatic person at all."

(y/n): "You cut off a guys hand because he slapped my ass..."

Levi: "......."

Levi: "Damn right. And I'll do it again."

1K notes · View notes

nanami1chu · 4 months ago

Note

Okay, so

This idea has been (lol hazbin) rotting in the back of my mind for, forever now

Basically, reader and alastor are besties, but also damn dense. They both like, like each other, BUT reader is too nervous, and fearful of rejection to confess, and al is just in denial, and partly scared of rejection too.

And Charlie noticed this (of course), thinking they would get together any day now, but of course she was wrong, because the two are tip toeing around anything related to romance with each other, not realizing they both feel the same.

So Charlie basically ships them, and the rest eventually notice it too, some frustrated because they won't just get together already, while others are more patient,

Until, one day reader or Y/N, and alastor are just chatting in the lobby on a couch, when Charlie decides she had enough of this, yelling something along the lines of "you two kiss right now, or I'll make you!" Of course with the best intentions, because she's just a sweet little donut.

Unfortunately my mind goes blank here, somehow they do end up kissing, and like admittedly I'm a huge ass simp, could it end up with them making out? Of course not in front of everyone, because um... Al is affectionate behind closed doors, like no doubt, of course subtle things in public, but that doesn't matter right now.

If you could do this it would make my absolutely day <3

Love your writing :3

Title: Awkwardly In Love

The Happy Hotel was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. The lobby, with its eclectic mix of neon signs, mismatched furniture, and the distant hum of otherworldly voices, felt like a home away from home for Y/N. They were lounging on one of the couches, a half-drunk cup of coffee in hand, chatting with their best friend, Alastor.

Alastor, with his impeccable posture and the eerie air of someone who always had control over the situation, looked particularly… well, Alastor today. His pinstripe suit shimmered in the soft glow of the hotel’s lights, his eyes dancing with the usual manic gleam.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, the culinary world is truly one of the most thrilling frontiers for artistic expression,” he said, his voice thick with enthusiasm. He leaned forward just a bit, hands gesturing as he spoke with the kind of passion that could make even the most mundane topic sound exciting.

Y/N snorted, the familiar sound of Al’s voice breaking through their nervous haze. They shifted a little, trying not to stare too much. God, when was it going to stop feeling like their heart was in their throat every time he looked at them?

“That’s a really dramatic way of putting it,” Y/N teased, their lips twitching into a smile. “It’s food, Al. It’s not a battle royale. No need to get that worked up about it.”

Alastor’s smile widened, a touch of something mischievous flickering in his eyes. “Ah, but you see, my dear friend, where others see food, I see magic. True magic.”

Y/N was about to respond when they were interrupted by an overly enthusiastic voice calling their name.

“Y/N! Al!” Charlie burst into the lobby, practically bouncing on her heels. Her eyes immediately locked onto the two of them sitting so close together. She had that gleam in her eyes—like she was about to make a suggestion that was probably going to be the worst idea ever.

"Hey, Charlie," Y/N greeted with a wave, momentarily relieved to have something other than Alastor to focus on.

“Oh my god, you two are so cute together,” Charlie said, plopping down beside Y/N without so much as a glance at the couch's actual armrest. “I mean, it’s so obvious!”

Y/N felt their stomach drop. “C-Charlie, what are you—?”

Alastor, as ever, maintained his dignified smile, but there was a slight twitch in his eye. “Charlie, what are you implying, exactly?”

“You two, come on! You’ve been practically inseparable for weeks now, and it’s honestly adorable how much you’re both trying to pretend that you don’t like each other,” Charlie said, clearly not holding back her excitement.

Y/N froze, feeling their face go beet red. “N-No, we’re just friends!” they stammered, shifting uncomfortably in their seat.

Alastor made a sound of mild amusement, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “Yes, yes. Friends,” he echoed, his voice a little too smooth, like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Charlie gave them a pointed look, crossing her arms. “You two are so obvious,” she said dramatically. “It’s like watching two people try to avoid a train wreck. It’s painful.”

Before anyone could respond, Charlie’s face lit up like she’d just found the solution to a very obvious problem.

“That’s it!” she declared, practically standing up in her excitement. “You two need to kiss. Right now.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “W-what?!”

Alastor’s expression stiffened, but a flicker of something—maybe confusion or surprise—showed through. “Charlie, I believe you’re misunderstanding—”

“Nope!” Charlie cut him off with a dramatic flourish, hands on her hips. “I’m done watching this nonsense. The sexual tension between you two is palpable! If you won’t do it yourselves, I’ll make you!” She threw her hands in the air like a showman unveiling the grand finale.

Y/N almost choked on air. “I—No—Charlie, you’re crazy—”

“I’m serious!” she pressed. “Kiss right now, or I’ll make you both do it!” She grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

Y/N was on the verge of sinking into the couch in pure embarrassment, but before they could even process what was happening, Alastor—Alastor—took a breath. He stood up suddenly, straightening his jacket with an almost mechanical precision.

“Very well, then,” he said, his voice still smooth but with a slight edge to it. His crimson eyes locked onto Y/N’s, and for the first time, they could swear they saw something like nervousness behind that cool, collected exterior. “I believe, if this is truly your wish, we should get this over with.”

Y/N's heart slammed in their chest. "A-Alastor, no, we—"

Alastor wasn’t listening. With a swift movement that left Y/N breathless, he stepped forward, cupping their face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing across their cheek with surprising tenderness. The touch, so warm and close, sent a jolt of electricity through Y/N's entire body.

There was a heartbeat of silence—just the two of them, standing so close, the entire world falling away. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat. Was this really happening?

And then, without further hesitation, Alastor leaned in.

Y/N’s world tilted as their lips met. It was… soft at first. Hesitant. A bit unsure, like neither of them had quite figured out how to be more than what they were—friends, best friends, who'd danced around this moment for far too long.

But it didn’t stay tentative for long. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, it was like they were both starved for this closeness, this connection they hadn’t dared name before. Y/N’s heart pounded in their ears, their hands moving on their own to rest on Alastor’s chest.

Alastor was warm—so warm, the heat of his touch spreading through them in a way they didn’t know they craved until now.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, eyes wide, unsure how to even process what had just happened. Y/N blinked rapidly, their face burning.

“I—I don’t—” Y/N began, but the words stuck in their throat.

Alastor cleared his throat, but the faint flush on his face betrayed him. “That was…” He paused, then smiled—a small, knowing smile that held a little more than just their usual banter. “Interesting.”

Y/N laughed nervously, not entirely sure whether to laugh or cry. “I—yeah. That was… something.”

Charlie, still seated on the armrest, beamed from ear to ear, clearly pleased with herself. “I knew it! Took you two long enough.”

Y/N glanced at Alastor, and for the first time, saw a small, playful glint in his eye. “I suppose… it’s a start?” he said, his voice a little warmer than usual.

Y/N nodded, still reeling. “Yeah. A start.”

As Charlie clapped happily in the background, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something much more than they had ever expected.

And for once, they didn’t mind that it took a little push from their overly optimistic princess to get them there.

The End

162 notes · View notes