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helluva-simper · 8 days ago

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The Lookalike (Part 8)

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis, then into the arms of the Radio Demon himself.

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, Alastor X reader, explicit content, tentacle sex, bottom!Alastor, reference to drugs, reader is in Hell for a reason, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 9 Epilogue

Ever since Niffty had mistaken an expensive cock ring for an insect and attempted to kill it, the duty of cleaning Angel Dust’s room had been solely yours. You traipsed down to his wing of the hotel, pushing the cleaning and laundry hamper in front of you, and after a cursory listen and knock on the door, you went in.

You’d worked a few different jobs in your mortal life, and more than a few of them had been janitorial. You knew the drill; stripping and changing out the bedding, emptying the bins and cleaning any surface that looked soiled. Angel’s pet pig Fat Nuggets followed you from point to point, and you stopped sporadically to bend down and scratch the critter behind the ears.

When Angel Dust returned, you were scrubbing the floor of the shower, thinking of a time you’d butchered a kill in a similar space; the tray not wide enough to properly lay out the body horizontally. People such as yourself were, out of necessity, not squeamish. It had been hard to get the blood out of the grouting, and whatever Angel had left in the shower was giving you similar grief.

“Hey, Stunt Double! Ya in there?” called Angel as he walked in, dumping his bag on the bed.

You backed out of the bathroom, cleaning tools still in hand, and smiled at him. “Hello, Angel.”

“So it is you cleaning this place.” Angel tilted his head as Fat Nuggets emerged from the bathroom behind you to greet him, and he picked up the pig in his arms. “I was wonderin’ who was puttin’ all my butt plugs in size order.”

“I could do them by color, if you prefer,” you offered, pulling another bottle of cleaning fluid from the trolley, and Angel laughed.

“Neah, size is fine.” He flopped back onto his bed, arms splayed. “Man, I am beat.”

“Should I come back later?” you asked, but Angel just shook his head.

“Just do what you gotta,” he said. “It’s what they pay ya for.”

You gave a noise of surprise. “You have money in Hell?”

Angel lifted his head. “You’ve been here how long and don’t know that?”

You shrugged, heading back into the bathroom with more bleach. “People usually just give me things.”

“What happens when no-one wants to give you what you want?”

You took a couple steps backward into Angel’s room again. “Give me your phone for half an hour.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because,” you said, reaching into your pocket. “If you do, I’ll give you this baggie of mysterious white power I found in your room last week before Charlie searched it.” You dangled the drugs in front of Angel with a flourish. You had found them inside the cistern whilst fixing the toilet.

Angel leaned forwards, still squinting. “Those were my drugs.”

“They were,” you said, tilting your head. “And they could be again, for the low, low price of let me search the internet for half an hour.”

“Jeez, fine-” Angel dug in his corset for his phone and flung it at you. “There. Now, gimme.”

You caught the phone with a grin, tossing the drugs into Angel’s lap. “Pleasure doing business,” you said, taking a seat on the corner of Angel’s bed as you unlocked his phone. Alastor had specified you should work, but not how hard.

Angel looked between you, Fat Nuggets, and the drugs, quickly coming to the decision that you were the most interesting of the three. Pivoting with one leg, he rotated so that his head was level with your hip, and looked up at you. “Whatcha searchin’?”

“Overlords,” you said, and when Angel frowned, you added. “Alastor is sending me to some sort of get together and I don’t know what any of them look like.”

“Well, why didn’t ya say so?” Angel reached out to take his phone back, and you handed it over. “I have most of ‘em on sinstagram, ‘cept for Smiles of course. Here.”

You looked over Angel’s head as he swiped through a photo reel, mostly candid shots of the overlords at parties, pointing out both the overlords themselves and any major lackeys. It was information with much greater worth than a few grams of toilet cocaine, and Angel was more than happy to talk as you pressed him on details.

“There’s this rumor that Carmilla and Zestial are an item but I don’t buy it. Friends, sure, but old Zee’s a queen if I ever saw one, and Carmine’s not the type ta keep that kinda thing a secret.”

Angel scrolled to the next picture. “And of course I don’t need ta tell you about the television guy,” he said. “Hey, you want some of this coke?”

You laughed, a small shake of your head. “Thanks though. I’ve got everything I want now.”

“You’ve got everything you want?” Angel rolled over, his expression suddenly sultry as he propped his chin up on his hands. “You sure about that, Stunt Double?”

You nodded. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe.”

Angel deflated. “Smiles must be some lay, huh.”

You grinned. “I’m not answering that.”

In truth, that morning, Alastor had given you what you really wanted. A target.

The sinner that Alastor had named was one of the new overlords who had risen in the power vacuum following the previous extermination, having previously been a minor gang boss in Zeezi’s territory. He was a horse demon, and at least if Alastor was being truthful, guilty of just about every cruelty one could imagine. Including, Alastor had stressed with particular emphasis, disrespect.

His name was Kennedy, also known as the Smoker Demon, and aside from a few grainy sinstagram snaps Angel had shown you, you had little other information to go on. But when you took Alastor’s place at the next overlord’s meeting, you would see him with your own two eyes.

Alastor had agreed that you should have a weapon to hand when you appeared in his place, and on the day of the overlord meeting he presented you with an elegant red-tipped black cane.

“It’s no microphone,” he said, a little cryptically- you had never seen him use a microphone save for the ancient one attached to the desk in his radio tower. “But I had it made with a little surprise inside.”

You twirled the cane, testing its balance in your hand, and pulling the handle you found it held a concealed blade.

A short blade; not a duelist’s sword but a knife, long enough to slit a throat or to puncture a heart through the ribcage. You beamed at Alastor, the excitement bubbling within you at the prospect of violence mirrored by your delight that he had anticipated your preferences so exactly.

“It’s perfect,” you told him, twirling it just to admire the balance again.

“Of course,” he demurred, the creases at the corners of his eyes telling you that he was soaking in your praise. “I can hardly expect you to perform with second rate equipment.”

He hovered about you like a mother hen as you put on his ragged tailcoat, brushing it flat across your shoulders with the palms of his hands, and tutting as he adjusted your bow tie. You half expected him to take out a pocket square and start cleaning your mouth as he fussed over you, adjusting a fold here, a button there. Finally, when you were attired to his liking, Alastor pushed his index fingers into the corners of your mouth and pulled up, not painfully, but enough to make you bare your teeth.

“You mustn’t forget your smile, now,” he said.

It wasn’t hard at all to grin at him, not with the euphoria that currently welled within you. It was a maniac’s grin you gave him, wide and wicked and infectious.

Vox had been wrong about how much the other two Vees would object to his actions. Velvette had been legitimately furious that he had overstepped his usual bounds into social media campaigns, had called him a bloody idiotic twat, and had set the notifications from all of the accounts she usually managed to automatically forward to him. The pings were constant and it gave him a godawful headache. Valentino, by contrast, had broken the television set in their shared quarters, then stalked off to do drugs somewhere.

This was how Vox drew the shit lot of being the one of the three of them to attend the overlord’s meeting. His abilities allowed him to traverse the city quickly through the powerlines, but given the delicate political situation of any meeting of powerful individuals, such flashy displays were frowned upon. Anything that made people jumpy was frowned upon.

As such, Vox sat in the back of his limo as it drove to the meeting place, glaring at the traffic and wincing every time a notification from Velvette’s shit came in. Fuck his fucking life. Apart from, perhaps, the small portion where he got to watch Alastor fuck his doppelganger, that bit of his life could stay.

Would Alastor be at the meeting? Probably not, Vox decided. He hadn’t attended one since his altercation with Adam last extermination.

There was a spring in your step as you walked the streets in your red finery, feeling the breeze in your hair, your cane tucked neatly under one arm. The winds of Hell carried with them the scents of polyurethane and sulfur, and every sinner you passed cowered from your gaze as you grinned. It was barely even an affectation, if you were being honest with yourself. You were loose on the streets with one weapon in your pocket and another under your arm, about to meet a man that you would hunt. Anyone would grin, given the circumstances.

The sensation of being watched prickled familiar on your neck, and you stopped, hand on the handle of your cane, ready to draw the hidden blade as you turned.

A demon taller than yourself stood before you, with black, chitinous skin and a large, plumed hat. “Alastor, hail and well met.”

“Zestial!” you said with a smile, immediately grateful for Angel Dust’s overlord rundown. “Good day to you too.”

He fell into step beside you, taller than you by some margin. You didn’t feel malice emanating from him, but that was hardly a guarantee of anything. Perhaps your instincts were off. But you were heading to the same locale, so giving him the slip was hardly an option. “How have you been?” you asked, keen to push the conversation in Zestial’s direction. Alastor hadn’t told you anything about his relationship with the overlord, so the less you said, the better.

“Alas, my troubles would seem to pale in comparison to thine,” said Zestial, and you cursed internally.

“My troubles?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what are my troubles?” You had a warm place to sleep and a boyfriend who hand-fed you breakfast- practically the high life.

“Rumor has it thou suffered a mortal wound,” said Zestial, his narrow eyes looking you up and down. “ And thy former protégé doth set his sights on the folly thou suffered for.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking about Vox and the hotel. The documentary crew and constant stream of influencers through the hotel was Vox’s doing. And the timing was too co-incidental for it to not be related to the hidden cameras in Alastor’s room. Alastor already suspected Lucifer as the culprit for that, though he had no proof save that Lucifer was one of the few people powerful enough to dare to fuck with him.

“My protégé,” you repeated, lending a little darkness to your tone. “Tell me, who in the hotel did he deal with?”

Zestial smiled, eerily. “That information hath value,” he said. “What dost thou propose in exchange?”

You paused to think, twirling your cane idly around your palm and wrist as the two of you walked. Offering future consideration was a shitty thing to do, doomed to piss off either Zestial or Alastor, depending on who got saddled with the debt. You could sell the overlord the information that you were a fake, assuming that he hadn’t already figured it out, but that would undermine your own usefulness as a double for Alastor. “It seems to me,” you said, a smile at Zestial. “That the window of usefulness of that information is rather short.”

“The identity of a traitor in thy camp-” said Zestial.

“Ah, but it is a rather small camp, is it not?” you asked, grateful for the time you’d spent giving museum tours with a transatlantic accent as you stuck as hard as you could to Alastor’s mannerisms rather than lapse into iambic pentameter. “Are you sure you’d rather keep hold of it in the hopes of a high price when I need only wait for the blasted picture box to gloat about their identity?”

Zestial hummed, but didn’t argue the point further.

“I’ll tell you what. How about an exchange in kind? I’ll tell you the recent gossip I know, and you can stop me if I tell you something you think meets your price.”

“An entertaining prospect,” said Zestial. “Pray continue.”

The conversation with Angel Dust was fresh in your mind, so you recounted what you judged to be of interest, skipping over both Rosie, who Alastor had indicated was his friend, and Vox, whose very mention made Alastor’s smile seem forced, as well as the figures closest to Zestial himself. You named the underbosses vying to work under Zeezi, talked about the sinner who had been stalking Valentino, along with a few other tidbits, and Zestial was a good audience, chuckling and curious in turn.

“Thou art an enigma as ever, Alastor,” he said, as you reached the venue for the meeting, and imposing red-brick building.

You grinned at him. “I suppose that means my little stories don’t pass muster?”

“Quite the contrary,” said Zestial, a slight inclination of his head. “I consider my price paid in full. The king of Hell himself paid a visit to overlord Vox in his domain.”

Vox fought hard not to glitch when Alastor walked into the meeting room. The infuriating grin on his face, the buzz of an electric field around him, the cane twirling idly around his wrist, ears up and alert. He might not have noticed the differences if he hadn’t seen the two of you together barely a week before, if Alastor hadn’t caught him out by being disguised as you. The differences were subtle, but they were there, in the shape of your antlers and the markings on your ears.

No. Not Alastor. You. Fuck.

What were you doing here? This was a room full of overlords; people who would eat an innocent, sweet creature like you right up without a second thought. Had Alastor sent you there to taunt him? To see what he would do? The new overlord, Kennedy, had been talking shit about the Radio Demon for weeks. Vox hadn’t seen reason to worry about it before now, but the rest of the overlords were smart enough not to take a run at the Radio Demon, or anyone they believed to be the Radio Demon.

You met his eyes as you took your seat, a small smile on your lips, and Vox resolved that he would save you from this den of monsters. You were still the sweet little Bambi he had led tottering across his bedroom floor, before Alastor had stolen you. You were probably scared out of your tiny little mind, he reasoned, putting on a smiling face out of fear, or even compelled by the soul contract Alastor doubtless had over you. The small scrunch at your brow told him you were deep in thought, probably trying to think of a way out of your situation.

You strolled to your chair at the overlord’s meeting, a friendly smile to the woman you recognized as Rosie as you pondered two things. First- had Zestial rumbled your disguise? If he had, he’d shown no sign of doing so, taking his own seat across the table from you without comment. Second- was it a terrible idea to blackmail the King of Hell? The few times you’d crossed paths he’d seemed to barely register you as a person, merely part of an amorphous blob labeled ‘staff’. It was entirely possible that he would obliterate you without a second thought. And, if you did blackmail him, what would you ask for?

“Hello, one and all!” you chirped as you swung into your chair. “Tales of my incapacitation are unfortunately exaggerated!”

“More’s the pity,” muttered Vox, and you raised your eyebrow at him. It was only a few days since he’d sat next to your bed and begged Alastor to let him jack himself off as Alastor fucked you. Surely his feelings hadn’t soured that much for lack of aftercare.

“I’m sorry,” you said, cocking an ear. “Could you speak up? Your audio dropped out a little there.”

Carmilla spread her arms as Vox opened his mouth to retort. “Since we’re all here,” she said, a scowl at both you and Vox. “We should begin.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna let that motherfucker waltz in here and take a seat at the table like nothing’s happened?”

You turned and looked curiously at the demon that Alastor had told you you could kill. The Smoker Demon was tall by sinner standards, but much like you he was dwarfed by the larger members of the overlord contingent. His face was long and equine, his teeth jagged like those of most sinners, and he wore his mane plastered to his head with gel, the humanoid portion of his body attired in business casual. He looked around, seeking agreement from the other overlords.

“What? Are you just gonna not talk about how all our problems right now are the Radio Demon’s fault? The war with Heaven? Anyone?”

War with Heaven? Well, that certainly hadn’t been on sinstagram. You scrunched your nose. “Was that on the agenda? I didn’t get the memo.”

“Fuck the agenda.” Kennedy stood, glowering, and you watched as his demonic form manifested. Smoke streamed from his nostrils, wrapping itself around his arms to become biceps, and a single serrated horn proceeded from his forehead. A fucking unicorn? You’d never seen anyone manifest in anger before, except in the sinstagram videos you’d watched whilst prisoner in Vox’s quarters. To your surprise you could feel it, a low thrum in your antlers, akin to the feeling of the hunt. But the hunt was already afoot.

“If you could save that activity for after the meeting?” you said, a grin and a tilt of your head as you stared Kennedy down. You could feel the pulse in your throat, the promise of violence in the air. You felt alive. “I certainly don’t want to watch that.”

Vox watched you with increasing concern as Kennedy stepped onto the table. You didn’t know how much danger you were in, and no-one else around the table gave a fuck. They knew that one mid-tier bisexual unicorn was well within Alastor’s capabilities.

Vox watched as you rolled your eyes, turning to Carmilla with a lopsided smile, even as Kennedy loomed behind you, completely unconcerned. “The use of deadly force is still banned at these soirées, correct? Or did standards decline in my absence?”

Okay, you weren’t just unconcerned. You had a suicidal disregard for your own wellbeing. He had to do something, before Kennedy turned you into an Alastor-colored smear on the floor.

“Sit the fuck down, fuckface,” growled Vox, putting full threat behind it. That worked- Kennedy was too young to properly know the terror of the Radio Demon, but he knew Vox had a bigger dick than he did. Reluctantly he backed down.

“Unusually civic minded of you,” you said, in a perfect facsimile of Alastor’s voice, and Vox rolled his eyes internally. You’re welcome.

You stared across the table at Vox on and off for the entirety of the overlord meeting.

He had cut your altercation with your quarry short. It had been a great opportunity to gauge Kennedy’s speed and strength, maybe set him entirely off-balance by getting him kicked out of the meeting, and Vox had ruined it. It made your fingernails itch, your smile almost painful to maintain. You breathed through your nose, calming yourself by settling your attention on Kennedy, who glowered balefully at you, a little smoke still rising from his nostrils. What had Alastor even done to him anyway? You’d have to ask once you got back to the hotel.

Vox lingered after the meeting. “Hey, uh, Alastor. A word?”

You inclined your head, remaining as the others filed out. You would rather have followed Kennedy, but part of you still felt bad for just chucking Vox out of your bedroom. What you weren’t prepared for was just how close Vox stood to you, his face close enough that you could feel the static from his screen.

“I can take you away from all of this, babydoll.” Vox’s voice was low, the sort of coaxing tone he’d used as he pushed your knees apart. Not the voice he’d use for the real Alastor.

You kept the smile that Alastor had asked you to wear regardless. “Is that a threat?”

“Fuck.” Vox pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “You can drop the act, alright. I know who you are.”

“Oh? And who is that?” You grinned, slow and toothy.

Vox was quiet. You’d never given Vox your name. You hadn’t even given Alastor your name, for all you’d spent each night trading inconsequential secrets with each other, your tongue in his mouth and his in yours.

“Well? Who am I?”

“That guy’s bad news, okay.” Vox changed the subject. “He’s dangerous. He could hurt you.”

Oh. Vox was still buying the ditz act from when he’d taken you in. The only thing he’d seen you do was fuck Alastor, so you supposed he couldn’t really be blamed for that, and that certainly explained the protectiveness, however inconvenient. You fluttered your eyelashes. “How dangerous, exactly?”

It was hard to contain your excitement as you returned to the hotel, neatly sidestepping splashes from acid rain puddles. You had fooled a room full of overlords into thinking you were Alastor, except for Vox, and Vox had given you some downright detailed information on the overlord that you were going to hunt.

And you had traded up from Angel Dust’s toilet cistern cocaine to the identity of the person who had put spy cameras in your room.

When you entered the hotel you were so light on your feet that you were almost dancing, and you caught Alastor by the waist as you swept past, pulling him with you.

“It went well, I take it?” he said, falling deftly into step with you, taking you by the hand and by the shoulder.

You grinned wide, blood hot in your veins. “Zestial either rumbled me or you’re friends with him now,” you said, and Alastor laughed.

Your effervescence faded gradually, but your blood stayed hot, your excitement buzzing behind your teeth even into the night.

You watched Alastor, primly attired in his pajamas in the bed next to you, as he opened his book to the page he had reached the previous night. This was the point in the evening where you would find a book of your own, or simply sit and think, but you were too restless for that now; your senses too keen and your body still thrumming with adrenaline. You reached out and put your hand on his stomach, fingers trailing over the thin fabric, feeling the warmth of his body through it.

Alastor gave a soft hum, and turned the page, though his eyes did flicker to you briefly, curious. You pressed your suit, pushing up the hem of his pajama shirt to expose a few inches of skin, and lowered your face to him, lips brushing the skin of his hip, his flank, and then up to his navel; all of the skin that you had bared.

You lifted your gaze as your lips found his bellybutton and found Alastor staring at you over the top of his book, his antlers perhaps an inch taller than they had been a moment before, and you felt his diaphragm shift as he breathed in.

“You’re certainly forward tonight,” said Alastor, a warm crackle to his voice. “Did you want something from me?”

You shook your head, playful. “Don’t put your book down on my account.”

The snort Alastor gave was so soft that you didn’t even hear it, simply felt it through your hand on his stomach. “I wasn’t planning on it, dear,” he said, lifting his book again with theatrical indifference. “This is a very interesting chapter.”

Sliding your hand down the strip of hair that extended below his navel and under the waistband of his pajama pants, you found he was already hard for you. Just feeling his cock hard in your hand sent a sympathetic surge to your own loins, and you squeezed his shaft in your hand as you eased his waistband down over it.

Alastor feigned insouciance, but you could see the color rising in his cheeks, and feel his growing hardness under your touch. There was a matching heat in your own cheeks too; up until now, Alastor had been the one to set the pace, centering your pleasure, but now you had him in your hands. It was a surrender of the thing he found most precious- control.

You pressed your face to his stomach and then his mons as you stroked his cock, burying your nose in the coarse hair there and breathing in. He smelled like Alastor; like musk and woodsmoke and formaldehyde, and you felt the shivering intake of breath that he gave as you pressed your cheek against the silky-soft skin of his shaft, kissing your way from the base of his cock to the tip. Alastor made a show of turning the page of his book, but when you lapped up the salty liquid beading at his tip with your tongue, he actually gasped, his free hand going to cover his mouth.

You looked at him, questioning, challenging, but Alastor used the few seconds reprieve to recover his composure.

True to form, Alastor did recover, his eyes losing a little of their glazed look. “I hope you plan to finish what you started,” he said, his gaze going back to his book. You waited for him to finish turning the page before you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, careful to curl your lips around the sharp edges of your teeth, and sucked as you pumped his shaft with your hand.

“Fuck,” whimpered Alastor, and the noise went direct to your core. His eyes were closed, his teeth digging into his smiling lip as you stroked the underside of his cock with your tongue, pressing the head of his cock first against the roof of your mouth, then against the back of your mouth as you took him further in, saliva dribbling from the imperfect seal of your lips all the while. “Love,” he whined, though you doubted it was a confession, more likely a reflexive cry, a sweet nothing in his throat.

Alastor put his book down, pages open on the bed, and reached for you. You took his hand, twining your claws with his as you moved your mouth over him, going from pressing the head of his cock to the roof of your mouth to as far back in your throat as you could get him, the deepest point leaving you with your nose pressed to hair wet with your saliva, and then back again. His reaction told you that you were doing well; the quickening of his breathing, the spasmodic jerks that his hips made when you took all of him in your mouth- not enough to make you choke but enough to make your eyes water- the way his fingers gripped yours, and best of all the noises he made. Each cry he made was sweet enough to be intoxicating; to make your cunt throb and your cock ache, and you were sure that if you had ever told him your name it would be on his lips right now, in between the profanities and the broken cajun french.

You crawled between his legs as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off, your free hand cradling his balls as you took him in your mouth again, and between ragged breaths he reached for your antlers, fingertips brushing the perfect, sensitive spots that only he knew, a single tentacle extending from his back and resting at the back of your knee. It was an offer of a good ending for the evening, one that would leave you fucked out and content, deeply asleep on top of him, and it was a lie to say that it wasn’t a tempting one.

But you had other plans; you were feeling bold tonight. Gently, you moved his hand from your antlers, lifting your mouth from his cock with a soft pop, and took a moment to appreciate him being a flushed, panting mess for you. You stroked the tentacle, taking it in your hand. “I want to deflower you,” you said, as evenly as you could manage. “Let me fuck you in the ass.”

Alastor paused, his eyes registering surprise but not disinterest, and you gave him a few seconds to think about it. “You are welcome to try,” he said, finally, and for anyone else you would have offered reassurance. That you wouldn’t hurt him, that he didn’t have to do it. But Alastor had already swallowed so much of his pride in acquiescing to your request that any offer of reprieve would just have him doubling down, so you simply took him at his word, reaching into the dresser for the lubricant. It was one of the preparations you had made for Vox’s visit, a tube from the supply usually kept in the cupboard under the hotel’s front desk, along with the toothpaste and other single-use toiletries.

“Must I do all the work?” Alastor asked, a little archness layered over the desire in his voice as you applied lube to his tentacle, your palm spreading it across the smooth black surface.

“I’m not enough of a sadist to open you with my fingers,” you replied, wiggling a sharp claw at him, and his face split in a silent laugh. His tentacle coiled over your lower back as you crouched between his legs again, twining round your forearm and leaving the first few inches in your hand. You could feel the tension in his body as you touched him again, tracing fingers over his hip as you licked his cock, slowly, from the base to the tip.

He was expecting it to hurt, you realized as you took his cock in your mouth again, feeling the tension in his stomach and in his thighs, held open for you. He was expecting it to hurt and he was letting you do it anyway. You breathed out through your nose as you sucked his cock, pushing the head up against your epiglottis with a tilt of your head, and felt for his entrance with the knuckle of your index finger, stroking the tight ring of muscle with a feather-light touch before guiding the tip of the tentacle to it and pushing it in, your hand around the tentacle controlling the depth. You kept the motion shallow and slow at first, letting the lube on the tentacle spread to his hole, your mouth on his cock slow and unhurried. His body lost a little of the tension as he realized that you weren’t about to bully your way in, and you used that slack to fuck his tentacle a little deeper into him, motion slow and measured to not damage him as he took the thicker section of the taper.

Alastor gave a debauched noise that went straight to the base of your cock, eyes fluttering closed, and you held him by the hip as you kept up the pressure, his tentacle squelching into him now through the generous amount of lube, your lips and tongue and throat up and down on his cock. You could probably slide yourself into him now, smooth and easy as anything, and the thought made you twitch, but you gave him the tentacle a little longer, enjoying the way his breathing hitched at the nadir of each stroke, the salty taste of him as his cock leaked precum.

When you lifted your lips from his cock, he was staring at you again, eyes blown and dark.

“I need your hips a little higher,” you said, reaching for one of the pillows, but Alastor rolled his eyes and extruded another tentacle from his back, curling it under him to raise him up. The view it gave you was pornographic; legs spread, cock hard and angry red at the tip, glistening with your spit, his own tentacle stretching out his hole, lubricant dribbling out around it.

You eased his tentacle out of him, the soft noises he made at the sensation making your whole form ache with desire. Freeing your own cock with a quick movement, you lined yourself up with him, letting the head of your cock kiss his entrance. The sensation made you shiver, the skin there hot and slick.

Alastor’s expression told you that taking him in this position rather than from behind had been the correct decision. His smile was still there, but his ears were flat against his skull, uncertainty in his eyes alongside desire. You paused, palms on his hips, thumbs on his waist.

You could feel your pulse beating in your throat and in your groin. You didn’t want to harm Alastor, didn’t want to upset him, not with him vulnerable beneath you like this. You cared about him. “We can stop if you want. Just say the word.”

Alastor gave a scoff deep in his throat and used the tentacle looped around your back to push you into him.

The feel of being inside him was enough to make you forget to breathe for a second; his intense warmth and tightness and slickness around your cock. You’d worked enough of his tentacle inside him that you’d slid in easily, and you found yourself falling forward a little as you bottomed out inside him, his cock pressing up against your stomach, a snail trail of wetness as his precum spread across your skin.

Alastor’s smile was indulgent as he watched you struggle for breath, and he raised his head to kiss your forehead. “Do I really feel that good?”

“So good,” you said, your voice low and frank and thick with static, and Alastor’s answer was a purr, a vacuum tube hum from the back of his throat.

“I feel the same, you know,” he said, attempting a conversational tone and failing, slipping into a tone lower in his register, cock twitching against your stomach. “Every time I’m inside you, all I can think about is spilling myself.”

That statement sent heat to your face, doing nothing to help you acclimatize to the exquisite feeling of him around you. You bit your lip as you willed yourself to stay hard for him, reminding yourself that if you came in him now he was unlikely to let you try again. And you couldn’t let that happen.

Fingers round his sharp hipbones, you rolled your hips, easing out of him before pushing yourself in to the hilt again. If he’d watched you indifferently it would have been easier to keep hold, but Alastor was already half-lost, thick distortion resounding in his throat and through the cavity of his thin chest. His hands were on your back, claws flexing, tearing fine parallel incisions in your skin, but somehow the pain only ripped a libidinous growl from your throat, serving as an accent to the pleasure you felt. Alastor’s heat was slick and searing and perfect around you, and you narrowed your focus to him, only him.

You watched his face- the subtle change in expression behind the smile that he doggedly held, the way his eyelids fluttered, the way his larynx bobbed when his breath caught. You listened to him- the way he moaned and cursed in turn as you rutted into him, and the ragged edge to his breath. You felt him- his hard cock pressed between the two of you, twitching every time you hit the correct angle with a downstroke, his claws in your back, and the exquisite constricting heat of his ass.

Alastor’s breath grew more ragged, his voice more distorted, and you grinned as you felt your victory draw near; Alastor filled and spent on your cock. Alastor gave a growl, a low thrum of power, and you were caught off-guard as a third tentacle from his back curved between your legs and slid frictionless into your soaking cunt. You had been ignoring the ache there, but now, with a tentacle squelching into you, it was painfully obvious how much you had needed to be filled.

With Alastor’s tentacle stretching you, its movement compelling your rhythm, your already tenuous grip on yourself slipped, the cusp of your orgasm threatening with every stroke. You were close, too close, but so was Alastor, and you fought to make him cum, angling your hips in the way that made him tremble even as he forced you to adhere to his beat, tentacle curling in you with mirrored cruelty.

You came together; both gasping, both twitching, Alastor into the palm of the hand that you shoved between you to catch his seed, and you inside him, hot and deep and quivering.

“Alastor,” you whimpered, your whole body seeming to twitch with your first aftershock.

“Darling,” breathed Alastor, with as much awe as you had ever heard in his voice. “Oh darling, don’t you move.”

Your stomach fluttered as you looked at him, and you realized, perhaps belatedly, that this was something like love. You licked his cum from the palm of your hand, then held yourself over him, careful not to put weight on his injury. The expression on his face was one of clear, perfect bliss, with you inside him and he inside you.

You could feel yourself softening inside him already, beginning to slip out of him, and he wrapped an arm round you, pulling you onto his chest, not seeming to care when you lay over his wound. The claw marks he’d made on your back stung with the pressure, but you found you didn’t care about that, either.

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helluva-simper · 8 days ago

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Monsters are not safe anymore

Repost if he is not safe in your account askjdhajksdha

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helluva-simper · 8 days ago

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I thought that this was Al's leg. It was tripping me up so bad

yayyy

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helluva-simper · 12 days ago

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Red Apples and Roses: Chapter 4

“Your guess is as good as mine. “ Was the last words Vince or anyone had spoken to him before he was left alone.

By himself.

With no one.

“This is a rather… unpleasant situation…” Alastor remarks rubbing his temples, the migraine still wearing on. Other than that he was calmer (caused by calming dust or his adrenaline going down, he didn’t really care).

How was he supposed to get out of this place?

Despite the literal king of Hell being a midget, more or less, Alastor didn’t know what unworldly powers he possessed nor how to protect himself from it. Which meant he was defenseless, weak. Alastor clenches his jaw tightly, his teeth cracking under the pressure.

His mind wonders how he had gotten into this situation.

“Bar

Alleyway

Fight

Kidnapped”

Those 4 events played in his mind repeatedly. It startled him how all that happened in a matter of hours.

A snarl grows on his face. Vox. The night before was doing so well. They were enjoying themselves. Why did it have to end so badly?

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ __

Alastor picked up his half-full cup of bourbon, swerling tit around in one hand while his elbow rested on the table holding head in his hand. Vox sat in front of him recounting a story from his slowly up coming technology company but Alastor wasn't really listening. Alastor was just watching how animated Vox made himself while he spoke not only with his hands but with his head as well. Yeah, he was a TV but it didn't make it any less amusing.

They were hanging out at a bar called “Tips & Taps”, Alastor's favorite bar, mind you. People filled the room with drinking, dancing, pretty much having fun without murdering everything in sight.

“... It was really stupid how she really thought she could get away with it. And also a bit offensive.” Vox had finished his story before downing the rest of his glass of Moonshine, wiping his mouth. After Alastor was sure Vox was done talking, Alastor cleared his throat while trying to hide the slight disgust on his face.

“How are you and your… partner?” Vox raises a brow.

“You mean Val? It's doing really well actually. Ever since he joined Voxtech, business has been booming!” Vox replied excitedly. If it wasn't for him literally not being able to, he would frown but instead he just chuckled.

“Well, I'm gla-”

“Talking about business. I heard your radio station is still reaching ears.”

Um… what is that supposed to mean?

Alastor's eyebrows scrunch up before he relaxes them.

“Well, yes it IS doing just fine. The morning along with the midnight podcasts never fails to amuse my old and new members who tune in.” Alastor said, his smile tightening, almost unnoticeable. To anyone who didn't know him of course, but Vox did know him. Vox lets a proud laugh.

“Now, don't seem so bothered. I haven't even asked you my question. That's the whole reason I brought you here.” Vox pats Alastor's arm that was closest to him.

Vox had insisted that he'd join him at T&T for a very important offer that he would- Vox’s words, not his- “not be able to say no to”. Alastor had his doubts but he felt generous today merely because he was his friend and he decided to humor him.

“Well, get on with it.” Alastor said, flicking his hand to Vox. Vox takes in an animated inhale before speaking.

“Even though your business is doing well, don't you think that at some point it's gonna go… down? I mean with technology advancing as quickly, there will be barely anyone left to ‘tune in’.” Vox states. And despite it being a reasonable argument, Alastor… didn't care.

Alastor turns towards him. He rests his elbows on his knees, sitting his head in his hands.

“Well, yes. I have taken that into consideration.”

Vox’s screen lights, eagerly. “Good thing I know how to-”

“Not finished.” Alastor interrupts, standing back up straight to hold his hand up to halt Vox's sentence.

“Like I was saying, of course I have taken that into consideration. You don't become a good radio host without knowing something like that. The point is that I simply don't care. I'm not a radio for popularity, while a great bonus, it's not why I do it. I do it because I enjoy it. I don't do anything if I don't enjoy it.” Alastor finishes drinking the rest of his bourbon.

“But I'm sure this conversation had a reason to be started so you might as well still tell me.” He added, a bit curious on what Vox thought that he might be interested in. Vox blinks a few times in astonishment, probably because the conversation most likely didn't go his way. To catch himself he clears his throat.

“Oh- well- ehem, well I uh… I wanted to know if you wanted to join my company. With my TV and your radio we'll be the most -”

“No.” Alastor said quickly with a grimace on his face.

“Huh?”

“Vox, you are my friend and as much as I love entertaining your little ideas, I'll take my pass with this one.” Alastor explains, standing up and walking towards the door doing that little hip sway that he swore up and down he didn't do.

“Wait just a minute-”

“Toodles Vox.” Alastor had left the room with a dismissive hand.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And the fight and everything else that had came crashing down.

It was a real toozy he put himself in.

Nevertheless, this was the reality of the situation he was in and he had to get out.

He couldn't go about this like he usually does where he would let them attack first so he could get a hit on them when he dodged or using his tenecoles to create a bunch of targets to distract them. The moment the king of Hell got a hit in, it was game over.

“If dodging and attacking are out of the question perhaps I could use my append-” A sharp pain ran through his skull as if a reminder of his current state.

“Okay! No dodging, fighting, magical attacks. Perhaps…” His mind wonders to the imp who was soon to come back with his tea. Even though he was a imp, he seemed to be working closely with the king and it wouldn't be outlandish to think that he gave the imp powers. But it didn't seem likely. At any point he could've sprung out with some unworldly powers but he didn't, which would be a huge advantage. A simple melee attack could leave him temporarily immobilized and Alastor time to escape.

All he needed was a weapon. He looked around.

Lamp? No, too basic. Chair? Nuh-uh. Painting… nah. He rubs his hand down his face.

“I guess I'll have to do this the old fashion way.”

Alastor walks to the bed he woke up in and out stretched his hand before digging his nail into the wooden bed post at the foot of the bed to pull out a jagged, wooden stick out of it.

Step 1: Be ready for the imp to walk through the door.

Step 2: When Vince walks in, strike him.

Step 3: Run out and try not to get hit yourself

Step four: Once out, run as far as possible.

It wasn't a completely solid plan but it what he could make at the time. Now all he has to do is wait. It was fortunate he heard footsteps walking down the hall…

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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helluva-simper · 12 days ago

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I know smoking is bad, blah blah, but—

something about Alastor with a cigarette between his slender pianist’s fingers. He would talk with a lazy smile on his lips, not looking as the cigarette burned slowly toward the filter, tapping away the ashes without thinking. And when he remembers the smoke between his fingers, he places it between his lips, takes a drag, and tilts his head back to blow the soft smoke up against the ceiling. When he looks into the room again, his eyes lock with Lucifer’s, and his grin grows just a bit sharper.

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helluva-simper · 12 days ago

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Chapter 1: The Grand Re-Opening

"This is going to be great!" Charlie clapped her hands together as she surveyed the reconstructed hotel. There was still an unshakable air of sadness, of loss... that lingered despite the overall sense of accomplishment. "We have everything fixed up, and now we can have a grand re-opening!" She was more trying to reassure herself, trying to build back to her original sense of optimism. However, she was finding that... difficult after losing a patron who had been making such progress.

She felt as if it were her fault- if she had only been more convincing- if she had been stronger, fought harder-

"A party sounds nice." A hand on her shoulder brought Charlie back to the present. She blinked, Vaggie was beside her, smiling, though Charlie could also see the concern in her eye. "After all this hard work rebuilding, we could all use a little treat." Instantly Charlie was feeling better. Vaggie always seemed to know just what to say to her (except about her really being an Exorcist but, honestly, how does someone even broach that topic? Like: "Hey sweetie, just so you know I used to murder your people." There really was just no good way to go about it).

"Who doesn't love a good celebration after a fierce battle and a quick rebuilding?" The synthetic sounding voice caused Charlie to turn. Alastor was behind her, smiling as widely as ever.

"I mean, you only kinda showed up at the end, but yeah, might as well lump you in with everyone who did something." Charlie's father had never liked Alastor- so while the comment didn't actually surprise her, it did make her a bit sad. Alastor didn't seem to be bothered, chuckling to himself.

"I helped in the fight, didn't I?"

"You lost."

"I saw it differently."

"How can you possibly see it-"

"Cookies!" Charlie hated the arguing. For a Hellborn she had a remarkable dislike of confrontation. Alastor and her father both turned to face her; she had successfully disarmed the situation. "If we are going to have a Grand Re-Opening Party, we need cookies."

"Yes, cookies."

"Of course! I'll put Niffty on it right away!" Alastor breezed past them to where Niffty was stabbing one of the remaining angel corpses. Rosie had been gathering them up, though Charlie dared not ask why.

"You know I could probably make cookies. It's not even that hard." Her dad still seemed so awkward around her. Not that she was much better... but... with her mom away on business (at least that was the explanation Charlie told herself every time her call was ignored) she wanted to try and establish something with her dad- something more than an awkward phone call about the weather once every few weeks.

"I know, dad, but Niffty was hired to help with all of that." She gave him what she sincerely hoped was a reassuring smile. She could see her dad's posture start to droop- for the Prince of Lies, he could be an open book at times. "BUT!" She had to think quickly. "We might need decorations!" Immediately her father's expression brightened.

"Oh, you are going to see the best decorations you have ever seen, Char Char! Sinners will be coming from all over Hell just to get a look at these!"

"That sounds perfect, dad, thank you." There! Situation successfully navigated. Her dad was happy, Alastor was happy, everyone was getting along.

"So uh, are we gonna be putting anything extra in these cookies, because after all this shit we need it." Angel Dust stretched his back with a cracking sound that made Charlie squirm a bit.

"You fucking said it," Cherri rested an arm on Angel's shoulder looking to Charlie for some kind of confirmation. "Because we just fought a Goddamn army. This party needs to be more than just milk and cookies."

"I don't think a rager is exactly what this hotel needs when our focus is actually redemption." Charlie hesitated to say a direct no as they all did work very hard to protect the Hotel. "But! There will be alcohol! Just try to remember moderation!"

"Will there be cocaine in moderation?" Angel leaned forward, one hand on his waist.

"Can you do cocaine in moderation?" Cherri smirked, bumping her hip into Angel.

"If you have a moderate amount~" The two burst out laughing and Charlie did her best to laugh along, assuming, hopefully, that they were kidding. But just in case...

"There is not going to be any cocaine at the party. Sorry." She gave her best apologetic smile. Cherri snorted.

"Lame."

"Eh, go easy on her Cherri. There'll prolly be weed in the cookies or something. You know how weird shit gets when Niffty's cooking."

"They are just going to be regular cookies. If you want anything extra, supply it yourself." Luckily for Charlie, Vaggie didn't seem to mind laying down the ground rules. "Hopefully they are going to be different cookies than the ones she has been holding onto for six months." Vaggie looked briefly over to Charlie, lowering her voice. "Please tell me they are going to be different cookies."

"They should be, I'm pretty sure those got destroyed with the rest of the hotel." She genuinely hoped they had.

"She's baking new ones." Husk had finally made his way over, glancing behind him at Alastor who was still talking to Niffty in the distance. Charlie couldn't quite read his expression. "And she got rid of the roach problem, allegedly."

"Did she though?" Angel's skepticism was shared, but Charlie hated to admit it. "She isn't gonna like... put roaches in the food, is she?" Shit. Charlie hadn't considered that. And Husk's noncommittal shrug did absolutely nothing to reassure her.

"Fuck if I know."

"How about," she had to speak up before they were all eating King Roach Cookies, "you help her in the kitchen. As like... a supervisor?"

Husk looked back over at Niffty and Alastor, then back at Charlie. She could tell he was considering his next move carefully, his ears twitched, he crinkled his nose as he saw Niffty picking something up off the ground, show it to Alastor, and then start to walk toward the kitchen.

"You know what? It's a good plan." And just like that he was over by Niffty trying to pry something out of her hand.

"I think you just stopped a disaster." Angel made a face, watching the struggle with amusement.

"Oh, thank goodness." Charlie let out a breath she hadn't really realized she'd been holding. "Well, I am glad we are all going to be able to have a nice, relaxing celebration! And... maybe take a moment to remember..." she trailed off, her chest ached, she felt a familiar burning in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay..." immediately she felt Vaggie's arm around her, pulling her close. She felt so much better as she put her head on Vaggie's, the soft white hair tickling her nose, strong arms embracing her. "I know how much you miss him... how much... we all miss him..."

"We really do." Another hand was on her back, Charlie sniffed, looking up, seeing Angel beside her.

"And we fucked up the sonuvabitch responsible!" Cherri gave her a reassuring grin. "It's what he woulda wanted. Guaranteed."

"Charlie~" her dad's voice cut through the somber moment as he bounded over in excitement. He paused, seeing everyone gathered around his daughter, seemingly realizing he was interrupting something. "Is... now a bad time? Are... you okay?" He seemed so genuinely concerned; Charlie was touched. It helped her try to compose herself once more.

"Yeah, just... missing Pentious, that's all." She wiped her eye on her sleeve, pulling away from Vaggie so she could smile at her dad.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry I-"

"It's fine dad." This was not the way they should be starting off a grand re-opening. "Really." She cleared her throat, "so what is it you wanted?"

"Oh... um..." he seemed a bit taken aback by her desire to change the mood. "Right! Decorations!" He grabbed her hand in his gloved one, dragging her to the front of the hotel where two lavish fountains of gold could be seen with flowing chocolate and wine where the water should have been. Ornate lighting covered the hotel facade, nearly drowning out its usual colors, a lavish red carpet was sprawling out from the door. Charlie's lips drew into a thin line as she looked it up and down.

"It's nice." It was clear he had tried hard, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. This was the first time in... well... forever that her dad seemed to actually want to help her with something. But at the same time ... "it's just a bit..."

"Much?" Once again Vaggie was able to say the words Charlie was too polite to voice. "Angel! Get the fuck out of there!" Sure enough Angel had plunged himself into the fountain of wine, mouth open, head back, back arched as he rested on his hands. Angel didn't reply for a moment, his mouth full of wine.

"It's a fucking wine fountain, Vaggie. Why would it be here if we aren't supposed to use it." As soon as he was done talking, he resumed the position, now accompanied by Cherri Bomb, both of whom were getting absolutely drenched. Lucifer watched with his hands tented, a look of dismay on his face.

"I see the problem."

"It really was a nice gesture it's just-" Charlie didn't even get to finish before he snapped his fingers and the wine turned into regular water and Angel and Cherri both let out sounds of annoyance.

"At least we still have the chocolate one." Angel huffed, hopping out of the fountain and sticking his head under the next one. "This'll be the first time your dad got me all sticky~"

"Oh please don't." Charlie's response came so quickly she surprised herself. "That's my dad, Angel."

"He could always be my daddy-"

"Angel!"

"Fine fine." Angel seemed more interested in the chocolate anyway. Charlie looked back to her dad who went from looking distressed to perturbed.

"Dad I am so sorry about-"

"It's fine Char-Char! Nothing I haven't heard before. I assure you!" He smiled up at her and all traces of the concern were gone from his face. "What else should I change? It's your party, I want this up to your standards."

"How about less lighting and no red carpet? But maybe an open house sign? Nothing too flashy, just something hand painted! Oh! Maybe put a rainbow on it?"

"Can do!" Her dad clapped his hands and the blinding lights vanished, the carpet rolled up into nothing, and a cute hand painted sign reading: Grand Re-Opening: Open House Inside, appeared on the front lawn. A cute little rainbow framed the text. Charlie clapped her hands looking quite pleased.

"Oh thank God that got changed. What an eye sore."

"Really?" Lucifer instantly whipped around to face Alastor. "Fucking really? I want to see you do better!"

"I'm not in charge of decorations, my good man." Alastor smirked as he twirled his cane and tapped it lightly on the ground. (Hadn't that been destroyed? When did he fix it? Ah well, Charlie could always ask him about that later.)

"He did his best. And I really like what we have now." Charlie waved off the comment. It was going to stress her out to have these two constantly fighting. This was supposed to try and bring Sinners in. And, while a fight might actually draw a crowd, it wasn't the kind of publicity the hotel needed. "So why don't we go inside and get this party started!?"

"I miss the wine." Cherri huffed a bit but headed inside. Charlie still wasn't sold on the fountains, but they were only temporary. At least, she hoped they were only temporary. She could always talk to her dad about it before he left. Which reminded her, she hadn't actually asked him about that.

"You... are staying for the party, right dad?"

"You want me to?" His entire demeanor perked up. "I mean, sure! I'm not busy!"

"Not busy? Then what is it you do locked in your house all day? You're not making public appearances."

"I mean," his expression instantly fell back into one of annoyance. "I am busy. Incredibly busy. But never too busy for my daughter. In fact," Lucifer pulled his phone out. He looked briefly at the screen, his eyes widened for a moment, and then he quickly shook himself. "I'm silencing my phone right now. This is about Charlie, after all. Not about work."

"Oh, I mean, dad, if you're busy I understand..." Charlie really didn't want him to get behind on any work. The expression he had made looking at his phone had her slightly concerned.

"No no no no!" He grabbed both her hands. "No, no I am definitely available. Phone's not coming out. I'm here for you. Completely."

"Aw dad..." She squeezed his hand. "I'm happy to hear that, thank you, it means a lot."

"And I will be happily in attendance as well! I can even be in charge of music! I know a thing or two about hosting ~"

"Aren't YOU busy? Don't you have a commercial break to cut to? Or someone else to bother?" Charlie tried not to sigh as her dad instantly snapped back on Alastor. "Maybe go pick up some groceries."

"Nonsense! As a long time supporter of this whole endeavor I should be there at such a milestone! Don't you agree, Charlie?"

"I mean... he is the manager, dad." Charlie rubbed her arm as she hated picking sides, but Alastor had been there from the start. He was the one who helped get her idea off the ground, though his motivations were... probably not great (no, Charlie, have some confidence in your friends... maybe... a healthy amount... of confidence). He still was a constant figure she could turn to in a time of need.

"It will be a grand gala, indeed!" Alastor mused, putting a hand to Charlie's back, gently ushering her inside. Lucifer tried to bat his hand away, but he ignored the attempts. The inside was just as perfect as Charlie could have dreamed, the picture of Pentious made her both sad and proud. Angel and Cherri were already inside talking, Charlie saw Husk with a tray of cookies in one paw and Niffty under his arm. With a wave of his cane, Alastor filled the room with upbeat, old-timey music. Charlie took a deep breath, this was the beginning of a new chapter. She could do this, she could relax, have some fun.

"Do you want to dance?" Her heart fluttered as Vaggie held out her hand. "I mean, I'm not much of a dancer, but I can certainly try."

"I would love that." Charlie instantly gripped her hand. Vaggie pulled her out into the middle of the room, an arm around her waist as the two began to move across the floor.

"I think everything is looking great, Charlie. The hotel is even better than before." She spun the princess around, drawing her close once more.

Dancing always made Charlie feel so much better. Moving to the music, or singing her own special songs, it had a way of making everything melt away into nothing. The stresses of the world rolled off her shoulders, dissipating into the air as the music swept her up. It was as if it were just her and Vaggie. She could do this all day.

"I thought you said you weren't a dancer." Charlie laughed as Vaggie twirled her around.

"I'm not, not much of one. Especially for an angel."

"I think you're amazing!" It was her turn to take the lead as she lifted Vaggie up, spinning her, before putting her down; never missing a beat.

"I am nothing compared to you." Vaggie laughed, reaching a hand up to gently caress Charlie's cheek before putting it back on her waist.

"Can we do a few more songs?" As the music started to lull, Charlie was far from ready to stop dancing. As long as she could keep moving, there was nothing else that could consume her mind.

"As many as you want~ I am pretty sure I can keep up." Vaggie gave her a little wink, and Charlie's already rosy cheeks flushed even brighter.

They danced for five more songs; Angel and Husk were on the dance floor now, Cherri was at the snack table, Alastor was tapping his foot to the music, Niffty sitting on his head. Charlie was able to survey them all as Vaggie guided her around the dance floor. For once, everything seemed back to some semblance of normal.

She saw her dad; he was... distracted? Charlie craned her head a bit to watch him, he was looking uncomfortable (which wasn't all that strange for him) but he was staring at a wall in the back. His expression was surprisingly focused, like he was silently observing something. She followed his gaze to see if maybe he was having some sort of pissing contest with Alastor again but... Alastor was nowhere in his line of sight. In fact, the only thing Lucifer could really see given his angle was a window that was tinted to hide the world outside.

Charlie squinted at the window too. Was it something about the design he didn't like? It didn't look that bad. In fact, Charlie happened to like that window. She was just about to shrug it off entirely when she noticed something... moving? She squinted harder, maybe it was just her imagination, but she swore she had seen something pressing against the glass. Suddenly, Alastor's music warbled unnaturally causing her to misstep.

"Are you okay?" She was looking back at Vaggie now, the former Exorcist looking quite concerned. Charlie looked back to the window, nothing looked amiss now...

"Yeah, the music just messed up. It threw me off." Charlie laughed, doing her best to shake off a feeling of unease that had slowly creeped its way under her skin. Vaggie pulled her to the side, off the dance floor.

"I didn't hear it... but you know more about music than I do." She waved it off, taking Charlie's hand in her own. "You just looked a little... unnerved. You feeling okay?"

"Oh yeah!" She tried to dismiss the concern. "I just saw dad looking at something and honestly it just kinda looked like a window to me." She looked back to her dad who was now trying to push Niffty off of him. He didn't look quite so focused anymore. (Maybe just annoyed). "He was probably just spacing out and I overthought it. I do have a habit of doing that."

"You do." Vaggie mused. But she did look over at Lucifer trying very hard to dislodge Niffty from his leg. "He seems fine now. At least... as fine as he can be given I don't think this is really his scene."

"Actually, dad and mom used to host parties for the higher ups when I was little..." it had been so long since Charlie had thought about those lavish parties, the elegant music, the extravagant outfits... she always looked forward to them, even if she was too young to really participate. But it had been ages since they had one of those big events, maybe her dad was just out of practice? Or this was too small and intimate for his comfort.

"It's hard to imagine your dad at a party, no offense."

"You haven't seen him when he's schmoozing."

"Fair." Vaggie squeezed her hand. "Hey why don't I get us some drinks?"

"That sounds amazing..." Charlie relaxed as Vaggie headed to the bar to make them something. Maybe a drink could help take the edge off. She knew she was just stressing herself out, focused on trying to make everyone get along, expand the hotel, prove a point to Heaven. There was a lot on her plate right now.

Her dad had dislodged Niffty, and now the one-eyed girl was on her hands and knees scrubbing something on the floor. Someone must have already spilled something. That really wasn't surprising. Charlie made her way over, the least she could do was thank Niffty for her hard work in the kitchen. The scarlet haired maid was hard at work scrubbing a wine stain. That figured. "Scrub scrub scrub scrub~" She was singing to herself.

"You don't have to worry about that now! This is a party!"

"Sometimes ladies like to keep a tidy household." Niffty replied as-a-matter-of-factly. "Which you should really know cause you're a lady."

"Right..." At least she wasn't warring with the roaches... right now. "Why don't I give you a hand then?" She saw something had splashed onto the wall near where Niffty was cleaning. It must have been one of the mixed drinks, as the color was dark, almost black, and it seemed to almost be staining the wall around it. She picked up one of the rags near Niffty and squatted down to start to wipe up the mess but as she reached forward someone grabbed her wrist so suddenly it made her jump.

"Char Char! No need to be cleaning, my little apple! This is your party, isn't it?" Her dad had her wrist locked tightly in his grip as he plucked the rag from her hand. "And it looks like your lovely girlfriend has a drink ready for you~" He ushered her toward Vaggie who was coming back from the bar.

"I was just going to-"

"Cleaning at your own party? Save that for when it's over! Am I right? Of course I'm right! Here, allow me~" He snapped his fingers and a burst of light pulsed through the hotel leaving it sparklingly clean. Niffty let out an excited cry as the stain vanished.

"I HAVE VANQUISHED YOU! AND YOU SUFFERED TILL THE END!" And with that she picked up her cleaning supplies and ran off.

"Oh, um, thanks dad."

"Don't you worry about a thing! This is a celebration! It's fun!" He patted her on the back.

"I got us drinks." Vaggie handed her a cup. "Hey, Mr. Morningstar."

"Hi Vaggie!" At least he had gotten her name right this time. Charlie had to give her dad credit for the improvement.

"Dad... is..." the thought of his focused expression was still lingering in her mind. Maybe she was making assumptions based on his strange behavior. Maybe her dad was just... strange and that was something she was going to have to live with as they tried to build a sturdier relationship... but still... "Is everything... okay?"

"Yes?" He looked genuinely confused by the question. "Why?"

"I just... saw you kinda spacing out earlier... I got worried."

"Was I?" He gave a shrug. "I guess I'm just taking it all in. My baby girl, growing up, living her life, accomplishing so much..." tears started to well in his yellow and crimson eyes.

"Dad please don't-"

"HELLO HOTEL!" The doors flew open, and the music screeched to a halt as a plump blonde woman burst her way headfirst into the party. "It's me! I'm back! You're all so welcome~"

"Who did you piss off this time, Mimzy?" Alastor looked mildly annoyed, through the smile. Charlie knew he didn't really like interruptions at the best of times, but these two seemed to have a history so Charlie wasn't particularly concerned.

"No one! And even if I did I don't need your help." She scoffed at the notion. "I have new friends, who support me!"

"You joined a cult?"

"Of course not! But I am going to join: this hotel!" She made a grand gesture around her to the rather confused onlookers. "I am ready for redemption!"

"Seriously, what do you want?"

"Now Alastor," Charlie took a deep breath, she didn't even get a chance to enjoy her drink. "The hotel is open to everyone. But... um... why the change of heart?"

"Because I see what you're trying to do here, and I support it! I am a business owner myself. Owned a club when I was alive, and now I own a small business selling wonderful products to Demons like yourself! Have you ever heard of DamnWay?"

"I have used their shampoo..." Charlie tried her best to know most of the bigger companies in Hell. It was her job as Princess, after all. "But what does this have to do with redemption?"

"What's more redeeming than two small business owners trying to help each other!? Plus staying in this business is expensive and I heard this hotel is free." Mimzy pulled her down so she could put an arm around Charlie's shoulders, drawing her close.

"You know if you stay here you have to do the activities, right?" Charlie had a feeling the housing was the real reason Mimzy was here. But that's how Angel got his start. And Pentious got his by actively trying to sabotage the hotel. So, she couldn't exactly turn Mimzy away based solely on ulterior motives. She looked to Alastor who simply shrugged. It seemed the decision was hers and hers alone.

"Of course, of course! And you know I have some products that could really help get these activities up and going." She made a broad gesture in the direction of the foyer. "I'll even give you a friends and family discount on account of the fact that you and Alastor are so buddy-buddy."

"You can stay here." Charlie sighed; she really didn't have to heart to turn someone away. "But you can't bring trouble here. And you have to participate. The purpose of this hotel is redemption. "

"Right, sure honey."

"Have you thought about joining full time?" Charlie had her doubts about Mimzy, but she still had Cherri as a potential recruit. The demon looked from Charlie to Angel, then back to Charlie.

"I dunno about all that, princess." She made a face. "I may come visit from time to time, but I'm not looking for a quick trip upstairs, especially not after slaughtering a whole lot of 'em. I doubt that'll make me very popular."

"Awe, c'mon Cherri! You get to stay with meeeee~" Angel leaned his body weight into Cherri, squishing their cheeks together. "Plus, we're probably on some kinda Celestial Hit List. And you love fucking shit up!"

"You got me there." She grinned at him, leaning right back against him, poking his cheek playfully with her index finger. "Ahhhh, fine. I might stay for a few, see what this is about."

"That's great! Not the thing about the hit list. I don't love that image being put in my head. But having you on board will be just fantastic!" Charlie hadn't really considered Heaven' response to their struggle. She doubted they were just going to wave off the fact that they had slaughtered quite a few Exorcists. Her dad put a hand on her, smiling reassuringly.

"It is a good idea, Charlie. I think you can really accomplish something. And if Heaven doesn't agree, they can get fucked."

"Thanks dad." That did really make her feel better. He tugged gently on her arm, pulling her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

"Seriously though, don't join DamnWay when it's offered to you. I know the Sinner who runs it. It's a Pyramid Scheme."

"O-okay dad." That was completely unsurprising, if she was being honest. He released her arm and patted her on the back.

"And with that! I am off! I have a lot of important business to attend to." He spun around tipping his hat to Charlie. She returned to Vaggie's side, looping an arm in hers, sipping her drink.

"Thanks for coming, dad!"

"I love visiting! Anytime! I mean it." And with that, he spread his wings and took off, back to the sky. He seemed to be in a better mood- if he had even been in a bad one to begin with. Charlie was, honestly, not sure. All in all, things were starting to resemble normal again.

There were still a lot of unknown factors: the Exterminations, Heaven's response, the very concept of Redemption... but the Hotel was back together, and everyone seemed to be in okay spirits. Maybe things were finally starting to improve.

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A/N: Long. plot heavy fanfic. Primary ships are Chaggie and AdamsApple

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