hyorijie

[hyorijie]

Commissioned Al doing what he does best. With the added bonus of passionately tipsy. Commissioned by ineffablechaos on BlueSky.

[hyorijie]

Tipsy Neon Alastor 🍷✨

I'll be making this into an Art print ^^

[hyorijie]

Sorry, I fucked your wife. | Alastor x Reader

Warnings Infidelity, reader is married to a sinner on the rise , before Alastor's disappearance, P in v, Obscenity, overstimulation, Alastor is an idiot, sexual tension, possessiveness, Breeding kink, aftercare, Your husband and Alastor are friends (not for long). Summary Alastor has always been a demon of umpredictable whims, but this time... his interest has gone too far. A beautiful doe has completely captured his attention, there´s just one small catch: She´s married. Of corse, that would be a problem... if Alastor cared...

In the comfort of your home, you glided swiftly over the drink bar, most of the time you didn't drink, but right now the situation warranted it. Your husband had been gone for days and the loneliness consumed you like a slow and cruel disease.

The faint sound of music in the background relaxed your tense muscles a little, a sigh left your lips as you stroked one of your shoulders with the intention of releasing the accumulated tension.

Again you took a sip from the glass, the drink pierced your throat with a warm welcoming burn. Again, you were feeling hot, something very normal from wine.

Your gaze immediately went to the table, where rested that mysterious envelope that your husband had left on his desk, why had he left it that way?

You put the wine glass aside and the base of the glass clinked against the surface.

You walked a little disorientedly to the envelope, you saw that it was open. Curiously you reached out your hand gently until you reached the envelope, your fingers checked the embossing, while your eyes scanned the scarlet seal that stood out against the paper.

Before you could fully recognize the seal it bore, the sound of the door being knocked made you jump in place and let go of the envelope. The paper fell onto the desk and one of your hands went to your chest.

— Shit, who the fuck is that? — You growl to yourself squinting your eyes, cursing under your breath at whoever is behind the door.

With obvious annoyance, you walk towards the door, the moment you opened it, the heat seemed to shoot through your body from surprise.

— Greetings, my dear! May I have an audience with your husband at this time? — The voice that came from him was tainted with too much static, Alastor, your husband's partner was standing in front of you with a wide grin that almost forced you to return it.

You looked him up and down, hoping he wasn't real at this precise moment. But one of his eyebrows rose curiously.

You pulled yourself together immediately shaking your head.

— I'm afraid he won't be able to attend to the request, he's out.— you answered with a superhuman effort, praying to any deity that your voice wouldn't be slurred or cut off by the effect of the drink.

You took a discreet breath, trying to hold your ground as you watched Alastor, who was still smiling with that sly expression that got on your nerves.

— As I told you, he's not here. You'd better come back another time. — you repeated with a slight nod, hoping he'd take the hint and turn around.

But instead, the demon cocked his head to one side and let out a short chuckle, as if you had just told him a charming joke. Before you could react, he took a step forward and, with overflowing confidence, crossed the threshold of your house without waiting for an invitation.

— Oh, my dear, how inconsiderate it would be of me to make you spend the night alone in this storm out there. — he said in a falsely mournful tone.

You looked over your shoulder and, to your misfortune, the sky was still overflowing with disaster. You pursed your lips, holding back the urge to yell at him to get out immediately. However, Alastor was your husband's partner, and the last thing you wanted was to create unnecessary trouble.

With a restrained sigh, you closed the door behind him, turning around with your arms crossed.

— May I ask why you are still here if you already know my husband is not here? — you ask in a dry tone.

Alastor had already settled into one of the lounge seats, as casually as a cat would take over someone else's house. His eyes, lively and attentive, lingered on the glass of wine on the table.

— Well, let's just say I couldn't miss the opportunity to chat with you. After all, we're hardly ever alone. —he replied with a playful air. Then he narrowed his eyes with a spark of amusement.— Although… I dare say it's not the best night for a serious conversation.

A shiver of embarrassment ran down your spine.

— Don't imply nonsense. — you said quickly, in a tone that was meant to be firm, but sounded more like a weak defense.

Alastor let out a light laugh and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee.

— Oh, honey, don't take this the wrong way. We all have days like that. And if you're going to drink, what better than to do it in good company. — he said with his wide, impertinent grin.— Although, if I'm honest, I'm more of a whiskey man… but I wouldn't turn down a glass of wine if you'd be so kind as to share.

You pursed your lips, trying not to show your frustration. The last thing you wanted was to prolong his stay, but you couldn't be dismissive of someone so close to your husband either.

Resigned, you took the bottle and poured one more glass, pushing it to him with a light tap on the table.

—Here it is.

Alastor took it gracefully and raised it slightly in your direction.

— Here's to an interesting evening. — he gleamed with a glint of mischief in his eyes before lifting the wine to his lips.

You just watched, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell this Overlord was still doing in your house.

The bottle of wine was nearly empty.

You didn't know exactly at what point you stopped wishing Alastor would leave. Perhaps it was after the third glass, when the conversation stopped feeling invasive and began to feel… intriguing.

He spoke with a magnetic eloquence, with the ease of someone who had seen and understood more than he would ever admit. And you, with the warmth of the wine in your system, found yourself increasingly caught up in his words.

— It's amazing how little humans understand about true ancient magic.— Alastor commented, twirling his glass between his fingers with an almost lazy air.— Always wanting to pigeonhole it into books, rituals, symbols… but magic is not something that is locked into written rules. It's a living art, a contract between the one who invokes it and the one who responds.

Your eyes sparkled with interest. You had been trying for months to decipher certain fragments of forgotten spells, but the lack of results had begun to frustrate you.

— So, according to you, the key is not in the exact words, but in the intention behind them. — you said, leaning slightly towards him without realizing it.

Alastor looked you in the eye, as if amused to see you so absorbed.

— Exactly, my dear. It's like a conversation… only with entities that may or may not be in the mood to listen to you.

You let out a short, somewhat carefree laugh.

—And what do you suggest? That I sweeten their ears?

— Oh, some require it. Others, on the other hand, prefer a demonstration of power.— he shrugged.— But everyone, without exception, responds better to someone who knows what they want.

That last sentence left a chill on your skin, though you didn't know if it was because of his words or the way his eyes bore into yours with that brazen intensity.

You ignored him, or at least tried to, taking another sip from your glass.

— You speak as if you know from experience.

— Let's say I've had my encounters with the forbidden.— your tone became lower, more intimate. — But, my dear… What exactly do you want most?

Something about his question made you flinch. Not in the literal sense of magic, but in what he was suggesting with his velvety voice and indecipherable smile.

You tried to deflect the conversation, but then he changed the subject as lightly as he was moving his glass.

— Your husband has been gone quite a while, hasn't he?

You didn't expect that turn of phrase.

— What's that got to do with it?

— Nothing in particular… just that it must be difficult. — he cocked his head, looking at you with mock innocence.— Such a big home, so much silence. I'm surprised you haven't gone crazy with loneliness.

You pursed your lips, unwilling to acknowledge that he was right. Instead, you snorted with a sarcastic smile.

— You'd be surprised how well I get along with myself.

Alastor let out a laugh, one that rocked you without you expecting it.

— Oh, I'm sure you can entertain yourself very well, my dear. But even your own company can become… unsatisfying over time.

You choked slightly on the wine - had he meant it that way, or were you beginning to read too much into his words and that had another meaning?

You looked away, trying to concentrate on the bottle. It was almost empty, and in your head the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer.

But then something caught your attention.

Alastor was still perfectly composed. While you felt the heaviness in your eyelids, the slight tingle on your skin, he didn't seem the least bit affected.

You frowned.

— It hasn't had any effect on you at all, has it?

He blinked, feigning surprise.

— Me? Ah, my dear, wine doesn't have much impact on me. Not like it does on you.

He pointed to your empty glass with a lopsided smile, and you suddenly realized how vulnerable you might seem at that moment.

Your body was relaxed, maybe too relaxed. Your judgment, perhaps a little numb.

And Alastor, with his bright gaze and smirk, seemed fully aware of it.

Alastor set his glass down on the table with a casual motion, but his eyes never left you.

— It must be difficult.— he said, picking up the conversation as if he had never changed the subject.— Your husband, with all his ambition… making ever greater strides up the hierarchy of Hell.

You straightened up in your seat, leaning your elbows on the table as if that would help you keep your composure.

— It's what he always wanted.— you replied, trying to make your voice sound firm.

— Mmm, no doubt.— Alastor tilted his head, his smile barely perceptible. — He has determination. Firm convictions. He knows what he wants and will do what it takes to get it.

Anyone else would have taken those words as flattery. But you notice the tension in his voice.

You watch him more closely.

The way his lips seemed to twist slightly, as if he was pronouncing the words with more effort than necessary. If you knew him well, you would have said he was having trouble admitting it.

— He's loyal. — he added after a brief pause.— A valuable colleague.

You looked at him carefully.

— Yes… he's always been like that.— You smiled, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. — He was a man of principle even when we were alive. He wasn't always this calculating strategist you know. He used to be… different.

— Different? — Alastor raised an eyebrow curiously.

— More… human. — you said, almost without thinking. — Passionate, but not just about power. He used to laugh more, used to care more about the little things. It wasn't just ambition. There was much more love in him.

Alastor let out a short, almost inaudible laugh. But something in his eyes darkened.

And then, without warning, he asked.

— Do you really love him?

The air left your lungs.

Alastor slowly sat up, setting his glass down on the table gently, as if the conversation wasn't about to cross a dangerous line. He took a couple of steps toward you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze locked on yours.

— After all this time… after all he's changed… do you still love him? — he insisted, his voice lower, more enveloping.

You opened your mouth, but the words got stuck in your chest. You didn't expect that question. You didn't expect him to ask it that way.

Your heart was pounding, you no longer knew whether from the wine or from Alastor's closeness.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting for an answer.

But you… you weren't sure what it was.

The silence that followed his question was dense, suffocating. But the burn of the wine in your system gave you enough courage to frown, feigning indignation, even as a part of you was still trying to process what you'd just heard.

— What kind of question is that? — you let out with a dry laugh, as if the very idea was ridiculous.— Of course I love him.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression barely changed, but his smile… faltered. Just for an instant.

— Yes? — He said in an almost casual tone. — Because you don't seem very convinced.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he tilted his head thoughtfully and continued in his usual silky voice.

— But now that you say it… I find it interesting. You say you love him, but when you talk about him, you mean how he used to be. Not how he is now.

Discomfort settled in your chest.

— That has nothing to do with it. — you quickly rebutted.

— No? — Alastor let out a small laugh, not taking his eyes off you.— I'd say it does. I'd say what you're feeling isn't love, my dear… it's nostalgia. Habit.

The way he said it, so confidently, as if he knew it better than you did, made you boil inside.

— And what the hell do you know about me? About my marriage? — you shot back harshly, standing up with a sharp movement.

Alastor didn't answer immediately. He just looked at you, as if evaluating every detail of your reaction.

And then, without warning, he moved one hand fluidly, sliding it down your side until it rested on your waist.

The contact was an unexpected jolt of electricity. Not just because of the boldness, but because of the ease with which he did it. As if he had always had the right.

You gasped in surprise, your muscles tensing, but before you could react, Alastor applied firm pressure and pulled you to him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For the first time all night, you looked directly into his eyes.

And what you saw made something inside you curl into a dangerous mix of fear and anticipation.

Hunger.

Desire.

Possession.

A look you hadn't felt on you in a long time.

Your pulse hammered against your neck, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But Alastor didn't move, just held your waist securely, leaning in just barely, as if waiting, as if savoring the moment.

— Tell me I was wrong. — he whispered, his voice vibrating in the air between you.— Say it's not homesickness you feel.

His closeness burned you. His presence filled everything.

But worst of all…you didn't know how to respond.

The air felt thicker, charged with something you weren't sure you wanted to name.

Your throat went dry, and when you tried to respond, your words came out slow, hesitant, as if each syllable would need to be precisely measured to avoid crossing a dangerous line.

— I… that has nothing to do…— you began, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

But Alastor wouldn't let you continue.

— When was the last time? — His voice dropped to a low, velvety tone, vibrant with that characteristic static of his. — The last time you felt loved. That you felt wanted.

His grip on your waist remained firm, a pressure intense enough to remind you that you were trapped in his orbit.

— When was the last time you experienced something real? Something that would make you feel alive?

You gasped, not only at his words, but because his voice reverberated through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

No. You couldn't let it go on.

With both arms outstretched, you levered against his chest, trying to push him away from you. But it was like pushing against an immovable wall.

Alastor didn't even flinch.

Your frustration grew, and with it, anger.

— That doesn't concern you! — You snapped, glaring at him angrily.— Who the hell do you think you are to interrogate me like that? Your insolence is colossal!

But he just smiled.

Worse… he began to walk slowly forward.

And you, with no other choice, started backing away.

— You're not telling me because you don't even remember the answer, are you? — He continued, his every word pushing you further and further back.— Because you've spent so much time convincing yourself that you love a ghost from the past, you haven't even stopped to think about how you feel now.

— Stop it! — you demanded, but he didn't stop.

— Tell me… do you really think he still looks at you the way I do now?

His tone was a direct hit to your chest.

And then you felt it. The bar counter crashed against your back.

There was no more room to back up.

Alastor leaned in slightly, just enough so that his face was mere inches from yours, his smile now sharper.

— You know the answer. — he whispered, his fingers barely gliding over the fabric of your clothes, causing your skin to tingle again.— You just don't want to admit it.

Your breathing quickened. Your mind screamed a warning, but your body refused to move.

Because for the first time in a long time… you felt something you couldn't ignore.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the ragged breathing you tried unsuccessfully to regulate.

But you couldn't let him be in control. You couldn't let Alastor think he could push you wherever he wanted.

So you inhaled deeply and let the question slip out in a sharp, direct, blunt tone.

— Since when? — You blurted out suddenly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile barely twitching, but the spark of interest in his eyes flared brighter.

— Since when, my dear?

You looked at him sternly, your back still pressed against the bar counter.

— Since when did you have me in your sights. Since when did you plan all this. Since when did I become an object of desire for the radio demon himself.

For a moment, his smile widened in a way that made you feel as if you had fallen into his trap without realizing it.

— Clever. — He murmured, his voice vibrating with dangerous satisfaction. — Of course, it wasn't hard for you to notice.

Before you could move, his hand slid with precision to your chin, grasping it firmly and forcing you to look directly at him.

His touch was not rough, but relentless.

— The truth… I don't know for sure.— he admitted, his tone lower, more enveloping.— But I do know one thing…

His thumb glided barely over your skin, an almost imperceptible brush, but calculated enough to make you hold your breath.

— Your husband is a hindrance in the equation.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

— A hindrance that has prevented me from coming directly to you as I have wanted so much. — he added with a softness that was in dangerous contrast to the meaning of the word.

A shiver ran down your spine. The seriousness with which he said it, the certainty with which he admitted it… took your breath away.

Nerves exploded in your chest, and the heat of the wine in your system did nothing to help you keep your composure. But you refused to give in.

You growled in obvious disagreement, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

— We may be in Hell. — you spat, holding his gaze.— but I refuse to give in so easily.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but did not loosen his grip.

— I don't care what you feel. — you continued, in a tone you meant to sound cold, but which barely managed to mask the tremor in your voice. — I never cheated on my husband in life, and I will not do so in death.

For an instant, Alastor's face remained neutral.

But then you saw it.

A barely perceptible twitch in his eyelid, a shadow crossing his red eyes.

And then, his smile returned.

Only this time, it was tighter. Darker.

His grip on your chin intensified slightly, tilting his face just enough to make his every word feel more dangerous.

— You can say what you want, my dear… but we both know the truth.

— And what would that be, exactly? — you muttered through gritted teeth.

Alastor let out a small chuckle before whispering.

— You always look at me with a different gaze, perhaps, to other people's eyes it may seem like simple disdain… but to me…

Your body tensed.

— And that look was a gift from before I knew I would be your husband's colleague… from before I knew who you really were.

The air in the room became unbreathable.

Because his words were not an assumption.

They were a statement.

One that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, was eating you up inside.

The air became thick as your mind was swept away without your permission, like a violent current of memories that had been buried until now.

A year ago actually.

You had barely been in Hell for a few months. Everything was an incessant chaos, a spiral of violence and decadence in which anyone could get lost. But you… you were living well.

Your husband had moved fast, establishing connections with powerful figures, making sure they lacked for nothing. And, indeed, nothing was lacking.

Except excitement.

Boredom had slowly begun to choke you. Even though you were in Hell, a place of chaos and madness, the routine had begun to devour you.

So you made an impulsive decision.

For the first time, you went out without your husband's company.

And you ended up in Cannibal Town.

It was as enchanting as it was dangerous. If you ignored the scenes of sinners being eaten alive in some corners, it had a certain intriguing air.

But something else caught your attention.

An enthusiastic murmur arose from a group of women with dark eyes and sharp smiles. They all seemed to be looking in the same direction, their red-painted mouths forming words of admiration and affable greetings.

Unable to help yourself, you follow their gazes.

A demon unlike any you had encountered before. Elegant, impeccable, with that presence impossible to ignore.

He was not a predator in appearance, but there was something about his appearance that made him more lethal than any of the beasts that prowled Hell.

Your eyes widened with surprise, and your heart….

It sped up.

You stood watching him without noticing the time passing, completely caught up in his image.

Until he turned around.

His bright eyes, red as fire, stared straight into yours.

They pierced through you.

As if they had been searching for you.

The air left your lungs in an instant, and an inexplicable nervousness came over you.

You looked away suddenly.

And without thinking, you fled from there.

Your memories scattered and again you forced yourself back to reality.

Your breathing was erratic.

You remembered him.

You had known him before your husband made any alliance with him.

And when your eyes returned to Alastor's, you found something worse than a smirk.

He was nodding. As if he had read your thoughts.

— That's right, my dear…— he whispered with dangerous delight. — From that moment… we both felt that spark, didn't we?

Your throat went dry.

— No…— You tried to deny, but the word came out choked.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying your internal struggle.

— No, what? — he asked softly, as if he really wanted you to elaborate.

You drew in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to compose yourself.

— It was nothing. It didn't mean anything.

Alastor's smile widened.

— Oh… are you trying to convince me or yourself? — his tone was a venomous whisper, dragging you deeper and deeper into a game you had everything to lose.

— You ran away that time.— he continued, his grip on your chin loosening just enough for you to speak.— But… haven't you ever really wondered why?

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Because the truth was devastating.

Yes, you had thought about it. You had felt something that day. Something you were terrified to accept in the present.

Inside you, the battle was merciless.

Denial.

You clung to it tooth and nail, looking for any excuse, any justification for what had made sense that day.

Intrigue.

That was it. Simple curiosity in the face of someone who seemed different.

Stupidity.

Yes, a passing foolishness. A moment of weakness in a new, chaotic world in which you were still learning your way around.

But not love.

No desire.

No… that.

But the more you dug into the memories, the more the barriers you had so painstakingly erected fell away.

You remembered how you spent weeks in a state of uncertainty, with anticipation growing in your chest every time you went out, hoping - without daring to admit it - to find again.

And there, in the bitterest depths of your soul, the truth waited patiently for you to accept it.

But not here .

Not in front of it.

Fury flared in your gut and, with a spark of courage, you summoned all your strength and pushed him with both hands.

The move wasn't enough to send him away, but it did send him staggering back a few inches.

You, on the other hand, crashed backwards against the bar, feeling the edge dig into your skin.

The air left your lungs in a sharp gasp as your hands shook at your sides.

— Go away. — The words came out harsh, laden with a panic you didn't want to show.— I will not do this to my husband.

Alastor remained in place, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked, exposed.

But he doesn't move.

— Forget this whole damn circus and get out.

Your voice echoed in the room, but instead of an immediate response, there was a silence.

A different one.

One that didn't belong to Alastor.

It was in your own chest that you felt it first: a tremor.

Not in your hands, not in your legs.

In your heart.

And when you looked up again, you noticed it.

For the first time, Alastor wasn't smiling completely.

There was something subtle in his expression, something imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him.

But you saw it.

His refusal to accept your rejection.And then, without warning, he advanced with a single long stride.

You gasped for air.

His shadow covered you, and the distance between you shrunk to almost nothing.

It was then that he asked the unimaginable .

—Just one kiss.

Your eyes widened.

— What? — Disbelief cracked your voice. Alastor looked down at you, his eyes glowing like burning embers.

— A lasting kiss. A real one.

Your body tensed.

— And if we feel nothing…— he continued with a dangerous softness, — if this has all been an illusion, a foolishness… I will leave you alone.

His voice dropped a tone lower, like a promise.

— But if we get carried away….

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

The implication hit you like a punch in the chest.

— You're insane — you whispered, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Alastor smiling, but not mockingly.

— Maybe.

You instinctively took a step back, but the bar was still there, preventing you from escaping.

Refusing was the only option.

But before you could open your mouth to refuse, you felt the touch of your hands.

Not on your face.

Not on your waist.

On your hands.

His fingers intertwined with yours in an unexpectedly delicate grip, and when you looked up, his eyes caught you completely.

There was no longer arrogance in them.

There was something else, something devastating, something you never expected to see in him.

Supplication.

The radio demon, with all his power, with all his overpowering presence, was begging you.

Without words, with his eyes, with his touch.

Your heart gave a brutal flip in your chest.

— Yes… —The word escaped your lips in a barely audible whisper, so fragile you could almost convince yourself you hadn't uttered it.

But Alastor heard it, and that was enough.

Alastor did not rush. He did not advance with the abruptness of one who takes what he desires without waiting for permission.

No.

He approached with exasperating slowness, measuring every inch he reduced between you, giving you the opportunity to flee.

But you don't move.

Don't look away from his gaze, even if the anticipation made you gasp, even if the air around you seemed thicker, suffocating.

Alastor noticed it all, your tense jaw, the slight quiver of your eyelashes, the sway of your chest as the air caught in your throat.

But you don't back down. And that sold your fate.

His hand rose parsimoniously, and the pad of his thumb brushed your lower lip with almost reverential gentleness.

The caress was light, barely a brush, but a violent shiver ran through you. You did nothing when his finger slowly probed it, as if he wanted to memorize its texture, its shape.

You did nothing when he pushed off it with a playful touch, just a slight tug that sent a tingle straight to your stomach.

And when he tilted his face and pressed a kiss against your lower lip, as delicate as a whisper… You closed your eyes.

Praying to whatever divine force that it would end there. That you didn't feel anything.

Because if you did…

If you really did…

You were going to end up in his arms.

But the universe was cruel, because the void he left when he turned away hurt you more than it should have.

You didn't have time to analyze it, because Alastor leaned in again. And this time, there were no distractions.

This time, he really kissed you.

It was soft, leisurely, almost lazy, as if he savored every second his lips moved over yours.

As if he was drinking in something long longed for.

Your fingers clung to the edges of the bar behind you, searching for something to anchor you to.

But when the kiss became firmer, when the heat of his mouth became an irrefutable reality, an instinct stronger than your reasoning took over.

You let go of the bar and, without realizing it, your fingers became entangled in his sack.

It was a minimal, almost insignificant action. But to Alastor, it was the equivalent of a match lighting a forest fire. Because the need exploded in his chest.

And the containment crumbled.

His hands slid to your neck, catching it firmly, and the gentleness of the kiss became something much more ravenous.

You opened your eyes, startled, trying to pull back, to speak, to do something.

But Alastor took advantage of the opening, sinking deeper, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth without warning. A choked moan formed in your throat, drowned out amidst the mess that was now the kiss.

There was no control.

There was no caution.

Only the sound of ragged breaths, soft gasps and the static electricity emanating from your skin.

A tingle ran through your entire body as his hands left your neck to wrap around your waist, drawing you hopelessly to him.

And you…

You didn't stop him.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Because your arms found their way to his shoulders and you clung to him with the same desperation with which he was devouring you.

As if your life depended on it.

And worst of all… It's that at that moment, you felt like he really did.

The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat.

The burning that spread through every corner of your body, every nook and cranny of your being, as the wet sounds of both lips colliding echoed through the air with an obsessive cadence. For him, those discordant notes were a heavenly melody, a symphony of desires fulfilled and temptations realized. But to you…

To you they were the sounds of decay, of the abandonment of everything you once thought you could be. They were obscene, the complete opposite of any standards you once thought important. And yet, who are you to define what is right or wrong in a place like this?

He kept moving over you, parting for an instant only to take over another spot on your face.

First, a warm, wet kiss on your cheek, followed by one on your chin, then on your cheekbone, leaving a sensation that added to the volcano burning inside you. Then a kiss on your eyelid, as if he wanted to seal you somehow, leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

And when he stopped on your forehead, he took you completely off guard. It was a soft, tender kiss… but the mixture of his warmth with his closeness made your legs wobble.

As soon as he could do this, he captured your lips again, leaving no room for doubt, the desperate need in his kiss burning hotter than any fire, every second consuming you insatiably.

Now, your hands didn't know where to go.

It was as if your whole body was in motion, touching what it could, clinging to what it found. Your waist. Your chest. His sack , which I had learned to want to feel in your hands. But your fingers didn't stop there, they slid down to her shoulders, running up and down her figure, searching for a stability that no longer existed.

Finally, your hands ended up in her hair, messy, intricate, and the desire to touch those deer ears, those details that only reminded you of her nature, became unbearable. You moved closer, wanting to sink your fingers there, to undo the only remnant of control left in him.

The thought of your husband… evaporated, almost as if it had never existed.

You don't think of him and you don't think of anything else either.

Because all there was at that moment was Alastor. His body, his presence, that electric tension that passed between the two of you, and the feeling that everything was so perfectly right . If you remembered nothing, if this was a new beginning, if Alastor was claiming to be the true lover in your life, you would feel that it could be true, no more questions needed to be asked.

This kiss… this was the only moment worth remembering, and the only truth you had left.

The last thing you remember, through the haze of arousal, is Alastor undressing you with delicate urgency, stripping you of every garment as if he were unveiling a work of art. And then, suddenly, you find yourself reclining on one of the leather seats, being fucked by him in such a delicious way that your moans burn your throat.

You don't know how many orgasms he has brought out of you, but you know you are overstimulated by the violent trembling in your legs and the pleasurable pain your pussy is suffering.

Your moans rise in intensity, tearing through the silence as Alastor rams you with unbridled passion. It's too much for you, that your voice shoots out with a plea.

It's a slow, exquisite torture. You feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, that sweet spot where all your nerves converge, and a choked cry escapes your lips. It's a pleasurable pain, an electric shock that makes you buck under his touch, feeling every cell in your body explode in an explosion of sensations.

— There? You like that, don't you? — Alastor whispers, his voice throaty and loaded with a possessiveness that makes you shudder. — You like it when I fuck you like that?

— Yes, there… M-more…— you hiss in a broken, shattered voice, tears in your eyes.

You open your eyes, your gaze lost in the haze of excitement. The world is reduced to him, to the intensity of his dark eyes and the way his body completely dominates you. Fear tries to creep into your thoughts, but pleasure is an unstoppable tide that drowns him mercilessly.

You lunge again like a madman, possessed by your own pleasure, arousal drenches you both and the smell of sex wafts through the room. And the wet sounds force you to roll your eyes back and paint them white.

Alastor, intoxicated by your surrender, watches you as he makes you his. A primal instinct overcomes him and, with a nimble movement, he shifts position. Now he takes you with abandon, with an unbridled ferocity that steals your breath.

He wants to see you cry with pleasure, to see you lose control completely. He demands it of you with words and actions, praising every moan, every spasm, every sign of your surrender. He kisses you voraciously, savoring your taste, and embraces you with a possessiveness that marks you as his own.

As he gazes at you, his eyes linger on your belly. An almost ravenous need invades him, and sharp words burst from his lips, "You're going to be the mother of my children," he exclaims in a throaty voice that runs down your spine. "You're going to be the sexiest mother in hell, sporting my seed."

And seeing that little bulge of his cock in your belly only slowly breaks the self-control he still thinks he possesses. And he grunts when he hears you moan, a long, choppy moan that seems so sweet to him.

Desire consumes him, the idea of procreating with you drives him crazy. Even though that is practically impossible in hell.

— Let me fill you. — he begs with a fervor that shakes you. — Let me sow my semen inside you and create a new life, a life that belongs only to us.

Sighs and low moans came from him as he uttered those words like a mantra, the climax approaching, so fragile you feel it inside you.

Melted and not really you, you look at him with tight eyebrows, clinging to the places of his thrusts and simply nod.

— Come… come inside me, please! — You cry out with heart-rending urgency, pleading for Alastor to bring you to the ultimate orgasm.

— Look at me, my love. — he hisses, his voice a dangerous purr, — watch me as I give you what you crave so much.

Alastor purrs, his static brushing against your skin and ruffling your hair. You, lost and sensing that at any moment you are both going to be finished, bite your lip trying to hold back the screams.

Alastor immediately notices this and leans in, a quick glance informing you what he's thinking.

— Scream… scream whatever you want, precious, just scream how good you feel, how good you take me… fuck — His voice came out raspy, demanding even.

Alastor, possessed by a perverse euphoria, grunts and gasps on you, each lunge a coup de grace against your last defenses. Your vision blurs, the world is reduced to him, to the heat, the salty taste of your own skin and the sound of your own pleas.

The climax hits you like a bolt of lightning. A torrent of heat and light bursts inside you, tearing apart any barrier that remained between you and him. You scream, a wild, primal sound, as your body contracts in uncontrollable spasms. Alastor roars over you, pouring his essence deep inside you, claiming you as his own.

When the aftershocks begin to subside, you find yourself staring into his eyes, your breath hitching, your body covered in sweat.

— You are perfect. — he whispers between gasps. 

As you both recover from your climax, Alastor couldn't help but grab the back of your neck, pulling your face to his to kiss you with a hungry fervor. You accepted the kiss in response, surrendering to the passion still seething between the two of you. And as you kissed, Alastor slowly withdrew from inside you.

The contrast between the wild way he had possessed you minutes before and the gentleness with which he was now extracting his erection was mesmerizing. You gasped as you felt the emptiness in your body, a pang of longing mixed with the satisfaction of the pleasure just experienced.

Alastor contemplated the mess you were now. Your flushed face, your skin covered in sweat and your body freshly sated by his lust gave you a wonderful glow. He let out a static-laden chuckle as he watched some of his cum slide down your thigh.

With his claw, he scooped up some of the substance and looked down at you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. You blushed even more at the sight of the semen on his claw, a tangible reminder of your intimacy.

— You shouldn't feel ashamed, cherie. —Alastor exclaimed, his voice echoing softly. — After all, we have already shared a very intimate moment.

You felt a faint spark of helplessness at his comment, but it quickly vanished as Alastor lifted you into his arms, as if you were a feather.

— I'll take you to a hot bath. — he said, his voice a warm whisper in your ear.— So you can relax and recover.

The aftercare Alastor was giving you melted your defenses, weakening the resistance you were still trying to maintain. Clinging to his neck, you accepted his offer, surrendering to his charm and the need to feel his closeness.

— You're amazing. — you whispered, your voice barely audible.— I don't know what you've done to me.

Alastor smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. As he carried you in his arms, you felt everything around you fade away.

In the depths of the pentagram city, a small establishment, an uncrowded place, was the ideal location for a meeting such as the one Alastor planned to have with his most promising associate

With a cup of tea in hand, he drank it neatly, savoring each sip as if it were the elixir of his victory. The sulphur-laden air and stale tobacco lent an aura of secrecy, a perfect setting for a meeting between men of his caliber.

The tinkling of the establishment's old bell resounded, marking your husband's arrival. Always punctual, always impeccable in his gait, he advanced with the confidence of a man who knows he is well received. He did not suspect, he had no reason to.

Alastor, with his perpetually stretched smile, received him with an elegant gesture. His mood was still high, his spirits renewed after the evening he had spent with you. He still savored the echoes of your presence, the memory of your skin, the timbre of your voice entwined with his on that special night.

— Alastor! — your husband exclaimed effusively, taking a seat across from him.— What a pleasure it is to see you again.

— And mine is even greater! — the demon intoned with his usual theatricality.— I'm glad to see you're still in one piece after your little excursion. I hope it was as… exciting as you imagined.

Your husband laughed, settling in with the ease of one who has good news to share.

— Oh, it was. From start to finish. Mercenaries, small-time demons, ambushes…— your husband exclaimed enthusiastically, pausing before continuing, —Violence at every turn, as expected. But you know what? It was all worth it.

Alastor tilted his head in mock interest, gently twirling the spoon in his tea.

— Ah, Yes? , And what did you find in the midst of such an odyssey?— he asked.

Your husband leaned forward slightly, and in one measured motion, pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark velvet. He held it reverently before unfolding the cloth and revealing his most precious find: a grimoire of infernal magic, its yellowed pages exuding a latent energy, its leather cover cracked and marked with symbols forgotten by time.

Alastor looks at the relic with a lopsided smile, interlacing his fingers on the table.

— Well, well… —he mused, slurring his words in his melodic tone.— It's not every day one stumbles upon a treasure like this.

— No, not every day. — agreed your husband with palpable excitement as he turned the pages with eager fingers.— But here it is. Lost magic, forbidden spells… and one in particular that changes everything.

Alastor did not react immediately.

He simply waited, letting the other man elaborate, let him drown in his own enthusiasm.

— One of these spells guarantees a conception in hell— he declared, his eyes glowing with a feverish intensity. — A pregnancy.

The silence that followed was almost imperceptible, a minuscule space of time in which the world seemed to hold its breath.

Alastor's smile did not fade, but something in his posture changed, a subtle tension in his jaw, a slight drumming of his fingers against the table.

— Oh… what a fascinating revelation,— he murmured with his usual sweetness, gently setting his teacup aside.— And tell me… who, exactly, will be the lucky one?

Your husband laughed with genuine warmth, oblivious to the storm brewing in front of him.

— Who else could it be? My wife.

Alastor felt the air grow heavy in his throat. The timbre of his laughter did not change, nor did the sharp glint in his eyes, but inside him, fury pulsed like a chained beast, clawing, wanting to escape.

No. Not yet.

Your husband continued to talk, rambling on about his love for you, about the future he planned by your side, about the miracle that was within his grasp. His enthusiasm was blinding. He didn't see the way Alastor settled into his seat, nor how the shadow of his smile took on a dangerous tinge.

And then, with absolute calm, the demon exhaled a sentence that split the conversation in two.

— I'm sorry, my friend… but. — said Alastor, his voice smooth as velvet, riddled with a steely edge. —…I fucked your wife.

The sound of his voice, though serene, felt like a thud against the table. Your husband stopped immediately. His words died in his throat, his face paled as if the blood had left him with a single jerk.

— Pardon? — he asked, a shaky laugh seeping between his lips.— I must have heard wrong… that was a joke, wasn't it?

Alastor didn't move. His smile was still there, relaxed, serene. His crimson eyes glowed with dark satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the bewilderment of the man in front of him.

— Dear colleague. — he whispered with a bone-chilling sweetness.— Do I look like someone who jokes?

The light of the establishment flickered over both men. The silence that followed the confession was thick.

Your husband, still incredulous, searched Alastor's face for some hint of mockery, a grimace that would disprove his words. But the demon only looked at him with that lazy and enchanted smile.

— No… — your husband muttered, his voice barely a choked whisper.— It can't be…

Alastor let out a light laugh, full of amusement, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

— Oh, but it can. — he crooned with delight.— And it was.

Your husband swallowed dryly.

— When? —His voice cracked slightly. — How?

The demon narrowed his eyes, his smile curving with pride.

— Ah, you want details? — he asked, with a venomous sweetness.— It's funny… I thought certain images would be overused in your mind.

Your husband's jaw tensed, but Alastor didn't stop.

— Although, if you insist…— he continued with mock innocence, stroking the rim of his teacup.— I might say it all began with the allure of loneliness. Poor soul, abandoned by her beloved on such a perilous travel… so, so far away. What was I to do but offer her a little company?

Your husband's eyes grew wide with horror as he realized the truth.

The travel.

The damn travel.

The letter the radio demon had sent him, with a destination that promised only advantages.

It was all Alastor's idea.

All this time, the whole odyssey, all the effort to find that grimoire… it had been nothing more than a distraction.

An excuse.

For the Radio Demon to get tangled in the sheets with you.

The chair slid back with a violent creak as your husband shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger, chest heaving with erratic breathing. He pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, while his other hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white with restrained force.

— How could you…! —he bellowed, his voice rasping with fury. — How dare you betray our alliance like this! To climb into bed with my wife!

Alastor did not flinch. On the contrary, he leaned back comfortably in his seat, raising an eyebrow haughtily.

— Betray the alliance? —he muttered, his tone overflowing with condescension. — I don't know why you're so surprised. After all… she's always been mine.

Your husband's blood boiled in her veins. But Alastor was only smiling. He was smiling as if he had already won.

Alastor brought the teacup to his lips with that infuriating grace of his, but before he took a sip, he dropped one last lunge.

— ¡Ah yes!, and actually…— he paused briefly, enjoying the anticipation on your husband's congested face.— It wasn't on the bed. It was on the couch.

The silence in the room was immediate.

For an instant, there was only the subtle tinkling of china as Alastor finally set his tea down on the wood with absolute serenity.

Your husband, however, felt the last strand of his self-control tear. The vein in his forehead pulsed violently before he let out a fierce curse, his voice so powerful that some of the demons present in the small room were startled.

Murmurs began to run through the patrons, some watching with morbid interest, others feigning indifference as their ears pricked up to catch every word.

— You damned bastard! — your husband spat, his chest rising and falling with furious breaths.

Your husband pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, his other hand clenched into a fist that rose as if at any moment he was going to hurl it at the demon.

— She's my wife!— he spat, rage exuding from every word.— As much as you have taken advantage of my absence, she is still my wife!

Ah, but those words…

Something bubbled up inside him, a dense, toxic emotion that began to seep into the atmosphere like a dark fog.

— Is that so? Your wife…— repeated the demon, his voice a silken whisper.

The teacup hovered in the air for a few seconds before disappearing in a distortion of static, as Alastor's silhouette began to change.

The lights of the place flickered, crackling with irregular frequency. His shadow, which until that moment had remained obedient under his feet, began to lengthen and twist, transformed into a creature with a will of its own.

Little flashes of his demonic form began to manifest themselves involuntarily: his smile, once playful, twisted into something sharper, more predatory; and his eyes, those glowing red eyes like burning spokes, crackled with barely contained rage.

— Ah… — he whispered, rising with an unsettling slowness. — No, no, dear friend….

— She… She's not yours. —he exclaimed, each syllable making the ground tremble beneath his feet.— She never was.

A flash of red and black flashed across his figure. The temperature in the place dropped sharply, and static electricity made the lights flicker with a sickly hum.

The murmuring in the room ceased. No one dared move.

And then Alastor bowed his head slightly, his smile curving into something that no longer looked human, but the ravenous grimace of a predator ready to feast.

— And now..—He uttered in a tone that was almost melodic. — I'm going to get rid of the nuisance.

Your husband barely had time to inhale before the shadows around him began to move.

The radio broadcast, transmitted from high above, echoed in every corner where Alastor's signal could reach. At first, only intermittent static could be heard, distorted like the wailing of a spectrum trapped between frequencies. Then, the screams began.

Heart-rending sounds echoed through the air, where the infamous red demon's radio broadcast was emitting a special edition.

Suffering permeated every note of that macabre symphony, and the listening demons shuddered, some with morbid pleasure, others with a visceral unease that made their skin crawl. But no one turned off the radio.

Alastor's distorted guffaws filtered into the transmission between each interval of screams, each word a mocking echo, a sadistic mockery of the fate of the wretch who had dared to defy him.

And the wretched victim had been your husband.

— What a… lovely evening, my friends! — He intoned enthusiastically, his voice buzzing with a hint of static.— Don't you think despair has such a… melodious ring to it!

More laughter. More pleading in the distant background, fainter and fainter.

Then silence, and then a click.

The program had come to an end.

In the demon's hands rested the grimoire.

His fingers ran over the ancient leather cover, feeling the dark energy emanating from the book. The mere presence of those pages, covered with infernal inscriptions, vibrated the air with a primal power, one he recognized all too well.

His red eyes glowed with keen interest. A spell of conception.

The idea was fascinating. In Hell, damned souls could not create life the way mortals could, but that book…that spell promised the impossible.

Could it be true?

Could there really be a being born of his essence, of his power?

A snap echoed in the air as he closed the grimoire with a firm movement. His fingers drummed on the cover as an smile widened with barely contained excitement.

Well…

There was only one way to find out.

And you… you would be the perfect person in his little experiment.

___________________

Oh god, I still don't forget this series of stories, misfortunes consumed my time and at last I can upload this work. I am sorry forever. T.T

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings

Alastor takes over your soul, deceitful dealings, mockery and satire, blackmail, Alastor always tests your patience, possessiveness, blatant teasing, Nsfw, masturbation (reader receives), wild sex, P in V, overstimulation, manipulation. Summary Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

You've spent weeks in this cursed place.

Hell is not as you imagined it. There are no eternal flames or demons with tridents, but there is constant chaos, a violence that hangs in the air like smoke from an endless fire.

Everything here is aggression, instinct and unbridled ambition. Most disturbing, however, is the certainty of the others: everyone is convinced that you don't belong here.

"You shouldn't be here."

You've heard it from so many mouths that it's no longer a surprise. You are not a murderer, not a perverse psychopath, not a soul doomed by rage or sadism. In life you were… normal. No violent history, no sins that scream eternal justice. And yet, here you are.

But if there's anyone who doesn't believe in mistakes, it's Alastor.

From day one, you felt his attention. Not just any watchfulness, but something more… dangerous.

As if you were a new melody on a frequency that only he can pick up. His smile, always wide and polite, hides a disturbing intensity when he talks to you.

And he always asks the same question.

"How is it possible for you to be here?"

"Have you never enjoyed violence?"

"Haven't you ever felt the temptation to break something… or someone?"

The answers are always the same. No. Never. Never.

But in every question, in every encounter, you sense something strange about him. A doubt. A fascination that goes beyond simple curiosity. Because Alastor is not interested in meaningless things. And yet, with you… he insists.

Until tonight.

It's early morning in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. You're alone, or so you think, until the sound of an old gramophone bursts through the air. There is no music, just the crackle of the needle against the vinyl.

A spectral sound.

You startle as you feel the static wash over your back and quickly turn on your heels.

Alastor stands there, at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in shadows that seem to move with him, as if he were an extension of his being. His posture is relaxed, hands folded behind his back, smile intact, but there is something about him that feels different.

Less theatrical, more calculating.

— Ah… what a lovely coincidence. — his voice drifts through the air, vibrant and distorted, like the interference of an old radio. — Just the person I wanted to talk to.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not because you fear him, not exactly, but because the air feels thicker, as if the space between you has shrunk without him taking a single step.

— Ah, what a surprise…— his voice echoes with the distortion of the radio.— I knew you were interesting, my dear, but this….

He takes a step toward you. There is no hostility in his gesture, but something worse, certainty.

— Your brother.

Your body freezes.

— Ah… how curious. — he continues, slurring each word with venomous delight.— There seems to be a lot more reason for you to be here than you've been telling us, doesn't there?

You don't know which is more terrifying: the fact that he has discovered your secret… or the fact that, for the first time, he seems to be enjoying you more than Hell itself.

The silence between you is a living creature. It throbs with electrifying tension, creeps through the shadows and creeps into every corner of the lobby. And he, of course, savors it.

Alastor advances with the elegance of a predator in no hurry to attack, only to amuse himself. His gait is slow, leisurely, a circle around you. Each step echoes in the air like the beat of a macabre song.

— Ah, but don't be so stiff, my dear.— His voice vibrates with an insidious sweetness.— It's not as if I've said something damning…. is it?

He knows what he's doing. He's having fun with doubt, playing with implications, not giving clear answers. But you're not stupid.

—You follow me? — Your tone is firm, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

He lets out a laugh of genuine delight. As if your question is the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

— Follow you? Oh, no, no, no, no…— He denies with an exaggerated shake of his head. — That would be terribly invasive! Outrageous, even! I just…got information.

His shadow creeps along the wall behind him, stretching like a wraith elongated by the dim light of the foyer. It's a subtle movement, but you notice it.

Your eyes follow it unwillingly. And Alastor smiles even more.

— You know, my dear… I've been wondering something curious for a long time. — His voice drops just a tone, just enough to become a conspiratorial murmur. — It's fascinating to see you wandering around this modest little hotel, always so quiet. Not a complaint, not a tear. Just existing.

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone takes on a tinge of false concern.

— But then, sometimes… you would disappear.

Your heart races.

— Where was our lovely little stranger going when she was going out so calmly?

He stops right next to you, bowing her head in an almost affectionate gesture. But you feel it, the way her energy bubbles around you, the way the light seems to weaken with his nearness.

— Imagine my surprise when, on one of those little escapades, I discovered that you were on a journey… — he clicks his fingers, as if searching for the right word. — …particular.

The air feels thick, charged with something more than electricity. Don't look away from him.

— Where did I go? — you ask, daring him to say it.

Alastor smiles, and his eyes sparkle with wild mischief.

— Oh, no, no, no, no… how rude of me to spoil the mystery. — His shadow on the wall moves again. Slowly. As if someone else is there.

You refuse to back away.

— Say it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts a hand on his chest, as if moved by your insistence.

— Let's just say… I didn't expect to find you in such a… dangerous place.

A shiver runs down your spine.

— Oh, but don't worry — he continues, leaning slightly towards you. — I won't say anything at all, but…

Something in his tone chills your blood.

— The demons you've been meeting with? — his smile stretches, showing just a flash of sharp teeth. — …well, they seem as interested in you as I.

Shadows stir behind him, and for an instant, the wall ceases to be just a wall. Something there watches you. Something with the same red eyes as Alastor.

And then, he laughs. Low, soft, like a whisper that slips into your ear.

— Tell me something, my dear… —He bends down, barely, with his hands behind his back. — How does it feel to be here, in this small hotel, waiting for a salvation that will never come?

There are no answers.

— Oh, of course! I forgot. —He taps his forehead theatrically, as if he's just remembered something crucial. — You believe in redemption, don't you?

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the feeling of danger digs into your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the sensation of danger sticks in your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

— But what a peculiar case yours is…— Alastor continues, without needing you to answer. — A sinner without sin.

He begins to walk again, slow, measured. The sound of his shoes echoing against the floor is the only thing heard in the hall.

— A little soul who, as far as we know, never killed, never stole, never reveled in violence or evil. Almost… a saint.— His laughter fills the space again.

— But, then… what's someone like you doing in a place like this?

You don't move. You don't blink.

— A mistake from heaven? — Alastor tilts his head, as if the idea amuses him even more.— Well, well, that's what everyone says. But… there's a little problem with that theory.

It stops right in front of you.

— If heaven has condemned you, then heaven knew something we didn't.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. He can't know.

He can't.

— Oh, but don't worry, my dear.— he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with unwholesome amusement.— because I already figured it out!

You can't help it. Your breath catches for a second. It's slight, minimal, but he notices. Of course he notices.

Alastor lets out a satisfied sigh and takes a few steps away, giving you space just to continue playing with the tension.

— You see… in one of my many nocturnal inquiries, I came across something very interesting.

The shadow on the wall writhes again, as if something in it had guffawed.

— It turns out that certain… drug-dealing demons have a very particular worker among their ranks.

No.

— A young sinner who, oddly enough, shares a certain resemblance to you.

No.

— Ah, but that's not the best part. — Alastor laughs again and snaps his fingers. —The funny thing is that his dearest sister is here, at the Hazbin Hotel, for the sole purpose of…..

He pauses, reveling in the suspense.

You have to control yourself. You can't react.

Alastor watches you with predatory attention, waiting for any hint of weakness.

— Now, my dear… — His voice drops to a venomous whisper — How does such a good and pure woman, supposedly destined for heaven, end up here… while her brother is in the clutches of some of the foulest and most dastardly demons in this place?

Your palms sweat. The air is heavy, suffocating. But you can't give in.

— I have no idea what you're talking about. —Your voice is firm. There's not a tremor in it.

Alastor blinks. And then, he smiles again.

— Oh, I love it! -He exclaims with mock excitement.— Liar and convincing! You know, if that's the way you were in your mortal life, maybe you did deserve to be here.

You take a deep breath, hold your posture steady, cross your arms, and stare at Alastor with impenetrable conviction.

— These are malicious formulations —you say, in a voice so convincing that you almost believe it yourself. —You don't have proof.

Alastor doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his smile widens, as if you are enjoying the taste of his every word. He watches you with infuriating intensity, like a man who has already solved the riddle and is just waiting for the others to catch up.

But you're not someone easy to corner.

— And what about you? -You ask, barely bowing your head.— A demon like you… with such a violent, horrible record….

You question seriously and firmly.

— What is someone like you doing in this hotel? -you continue, giving him no room for mockery. — Where redemption is the only purpose.

His expression doesn't change, but something in him tenses, just a little. A small discordant note in his perpetual melody of control.

It catches your attention.

—Are you seeking redemption too, Alastor? Or do you just get a kick out of watching us try?

Your ability to turn the tables is precise, surgical.

You know it, you feel it. But Alastor is not just any demon.

Instead of responding, he lets out a low, vibrating laugh, almost like a purr of static. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to one side, his eyes sparkling with even more intense interest.

— Oh, dear… — his voice is a venomous cooing- That's a fascinating question, but… do you know what's even more impresionant?

He comes a little closer, close enough for you to feel the overwhelming presence of his scent all around you.

— What deal did they offer you for your brother's freedom?

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet.

You can't help it, your body tenses, your breath catches for a fatal instant.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

How does he know?

How the hell does he know?

— Oh…— He whispers with insidious gentleness. — There it is

You don't need a mirror to know what it sees on your face. The first genuine trace of shock, the chink in the armor you had protected so well.

And Alastor, of course, loves it.

The way Alastor watches you, with that smile that doesn't falter for a second, with those red eyes that sparkle with almost childlike amusement, is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You must react.

—My brother…— you begin, keeping your voice steady, but making sure to add a note of vulnerability.— I cannot control his decisions.

Alastor tilts his head with exaggerated curiosity, as if he really believes you.

— But me, on the other hand…—vyou bite the inside of your cheek to reinforce your expression. —I do want to redeem myself.

Lie.

But it's such a well-constructed lie that it almost seems real.

You can't let Alastor discover the truth. That the original deal wasn't to save your brother from a deal, but to keep an eye on him and Charlie Morningstar.

You must not give him a clue.

Alastor remains silent for a few moments. Any onlooker might think he's considering your words, but you know that's false. He's not someone who just listens.

He analyzes, crumbles, savors every word, every gesture, every pause, finally, he smiles.

— Ah… how touching. —His tone is warm, melodic, but it has the edge of a razor blade. —You are truly lovely when you cling to hope such a fighter!

Your heart hammers in your chest. Did he believe you?

— And tell me, my dear…— Alastor steps forward, his presence flooding the space,— what would you say if I offered you a deal?

Your eyes narrow.

— A deal?

— Ah, yes. -He puts a hand to his chest, feigning absurd humility. —Let's just say… I could help you with your situation.

The words fall heavy on your shoulders.

That's the trap.

That's their play.

Your jaw tenses. No.

—I don't trust you.— Your response is immediate, forceful.

Alastor laughs. Not mockingly, but with an unsettling placidity.

— Oh? — His shadow twists on the wall again. —And why not? Am I not an exemplary citizen of this hotel?

— Your record speaks for itself.

His smile widens.

— You're right! My reputation is quite colorful. — he exclaims with absolute amusement.

— I won't make a deal with you. — you reply immediately.

— Ah, what a pity…—He sighs, theatrically. —I thought we'd make a fabulous team.

His tone is light, casual. But his expression… it looks nothing like someone who has been rejected.

Because he hasn't.

He's gotten information out of it.

Maybe not what he wanted, but something useful.

— You see, my dear… —Alastor leans slightly towards you, his voice descending to a softer, more intimate tone — I understand more than you think.

His smile doesn't move, but his eyes say something else.

— When you love your family, you'd do anything for them, don't you?

Your breath stops for a second, just a second.

But Alastor notices, and in his mind, the web continues to weave.

The air in the lobby becomes stifling.

Alastor no longer bothers with detours. There's no need to.

— Your precious brother is in a contract, I know…— he says, his tone almost kind, almost sympathetic. — But tell me, my dear … was it really against his will?

His question falls like an axe on your neck.

Your jaw tenses. An irrational impulse tells you to hit him, to shut him up, but you can't. You must not. You mustn't.

You grit your teeth, holding back the venom that wants to escape from your throat.

Damn you all.

The memory hits your mind mercilessly. Your brother. His eyes, sparkling with youthful excitement as he spoke of opportunities in Hell.

"Just a couple of jobs, nothing dangerous. They say they pay well. They say there are connections. They say I could get a better place here."

The words of those demons slipped with the smoothness of the sweetest poison.

Promises. Lies disguised as opportunities.

And then, reality.

The contracts, the blood seals, the curses that bound them for life. The traffic. The trafficking of souls.

The price your brother had paid was too high. And now, if you failed in this mission, he would be killed.

You bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you almost taste the blood.

But Alastor does not know this.

You take a deep breath, with absolute control over your expression. Your eyes, on the other hand, take on a calculated coldness, as if his question were irrelevant.

— I don't care what my brother did.— you say firmly.— I only know that I'm here for myself.

— Oh? -Alastor smiles, tilting his head.— Funny. You seemed more concerned about him before.

You feel the impulse to pull back, but you don't.

— My goal hasn't changed, I want to redeem myself.— you lie with impeccable fluidity.

Alastor squints, amused.

— You are very convincing, my dear…—His voice is a seductive whisper. — You really are, but… if you don't care what your brother has done, why does your heart beat so fast every time I mention him?

The blood freezes in your veins.

No.

You stand firm.

You take a deep breath and look at him sternly.

— I refuse to continue this conversation.

Alastor lets out a laugh, full of satisfaction.

— Oh, this is too hilarious! - His laughter reverberates through the hall, a cacophony of distorted mirth.

But you only think of one thing: If Alastor keeps digging, everything will fall apart.

You take a step, intending to leave the lobby. Or at least you try to.

Alastor doesn't allow it.

His hand wraps around your arm with a pressure that falls short of painful, but firm enough to remind you of something crucial: he won't let you go.

— Ah-ah-ah, my dear…— he croaks, slurring his words with amusement, — Our deal still stands!

Your body tenses immediately.

The grip is not violent, but the feeling of being trapped is worse than any blow.

Too hard. Too dangerous.

Your heart hammers against your chest as fury flares inside you.

Curse.

A thousand times curse.

Curse this place, curse Hell.

Curse all the demons that have turned your existence into a hell within Hell.

And above all, damn him.

The Radio Demon, with his eternal smile, with his melodious tone, with that mocking shadow writhing on the wall as if he enjoyed every second of it.

Your jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

But then… you reconsider.

Why?

Why is he offering you a deal?

Alastor doesn't give anything without getting something in return. And if he really believes what you've told him is true-that you're only here for your own redemption-then why so much interest?

Your gaze slides down the corridor, the exit you can no longer reach.

There is no escape, so you decide to change your strategy.

—Why? - Your voice is cold, but controlled. Alastor raises an eyebrow with apparent curiosity.

— Why what? - He replies.

— Why are you offering me a deal? -Your eyes are fixed on his, searching for the tiniest crack in that mask of eternal satisfaction.

He doesn't answer immediately, analyzing your answer for too long. However, you speak again.

— It's curious.— you murmur in a tone that is light, almost playful, but you do it on purpose.

— What is it, my dear? - Alastor blinks, still smiling.

—You're not one to make deals with just anyone.

His expression doesn't change. His hand is still on your arm. But you feel the tension, as if something in the atmosphere has changed direction.

— You're not someone who helps others for no reason.— you continue, leaning into him a little, just enough to play your own game.

You pause, enjoying the moment.

— You've never shown interest in anyone.

Alastor's smile remains intact, but his shadow on the wall twists strangely.

There.

You caught him.

You feel a spark of satisfaction in your chest. Not because you think you've won it, but because now you have something to play with.

— So tell me, Alastor...— Your voice is soft, curious, with an almost dangerous sweetness. — Why me?

You dare to smile, just a little.

— What makes you think I want a deal? Especially with a demon like you.

The shadow you've been staring at for so long is moving.

Not like before, not like a simple distortion on the wall.

Now, it manifests itself.

It is dark, meandering, as if spilling into reality itself. Its edges vibrate with a silent heartbeat, a formless presence, without a mouth, but with bright, piercing eyes.

You stare at it, frozen.

But before you can react, Alastor breaks the silence.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah... - His voice is still melodic, but there is something else now, frustration.

His fingers grip tighter on your arm. This time there is a small pain, uncomfortable, but it quickly disappears with the boiling rage inside you.

— Those details, my dear... —he leans in slightly, his shadow writhing at your feet— I will only give them to you if you tell me the whole truth.

Your lips open.

No.

Not even dead (for the second time).

Your other hand moves before you can think it, trying to pull his grip away with a sharp tug. Violent.

Alastor doesn't flinch.

— Oh, you really want to play like that? - His tone is almost amused, but the pressure in his grip increases just a little.

— Let go of me. - There is no pleading in your voice, only venom.

Alastor won't budge and neither will you.

It's a power play, a battle without retreat.

Both of you steady, both of you immobile, and between you, that throbbing shadow, watching with a latent hunger.

You look at it closely, you study it, and that shadow sees you in the same way, yet it disappears in an instant.

It doesn't slowly fade away, it doesn't dissolve into the gloom. It simply ceases to be there.

As if it never existed.

You blink, stunned, but you don't have time to react.

The pressure on your arm intensifies and, before you can launch another attempt to escape, Alastor pulls you towards him.

Your body lurches, the air ceases to exist between you.

Too close.

His face is inches from yours, his red eyes burning with unnatural intensity. The smile is still there, intact, but there's something about it that gives you goosebumps.

You can't move. You can't breathe.

You don't know if it's because of the tension of the situation or if there's something else, something hidden behind those bright eyes, something no one has ever lived to tell.

Because you don't know Alastor.

You really don't.

You remember the warnings, the whispers in the corridors of the hotel, the whispers of the demons who spoke of him as if he were a force of nature, an inevitable disaster.

Cruel. Sadistic. Unstoppable.

You remember how they mentioned his regretful disappearance, the mystery that shrouded his figure. And most importantly...

If Alastor catches you, no one can save you.

Your throat goes dry.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a slight fear.

You feel it in every heartbeat, in every second that Alastor's eyes pierce yours with an intensity that is pink with unbearable intensity. Your patience wears thin.

You notice it in the subtle change in his smile, in how his shadow seems to turn with an increasingly visible unease.

— Let's get on with our conversation, my dear... —he says, with that false politeness that only makes your skin crawl.

Your jaw tenses.

But he doesn't stop.

— Because, sure, there are many ways to look at this... — his tone is light, amused, but his grip remains firm — Maybe you're simply a sinner trying to make a desperate deal to help your dear brother... — he tilts his head, his smile barely broadening — but oh, what a problem! You can't make it that obvious, can you? That's why you play hard to get.

A shiver runs down your spine, there's nothing to say.

—Or...— he continues, stretching the word out with a hint of mockery, — maybe you're just a little rat snooping around this hotel, looking for information for those dealers he serves.

Your heart hammers hard. But then, Alastor smiles even wider. And says the third.

— Or... most likely...— he whispers, with a cruel softness, —you are here under threat. Someone has sent you. You want to know about me. My movements. My secrets. And more importantly...

Your eyes glow with something lethal.

— You want to know why I've disappeared for so many years.

The fear is immediate.

Your body reacts before your mind. A slight tremor in your hand, a flicker barely longer than normal, the air getting caught in your chest.

You have to get out of this.

You have to divert the conversation.

You have to do something.

— What do you want? - You don't say it forcefully, not defiantly.

It's a murmur, low, laden with little acceptance.

But Alastor hears it.

And for the first time, the shadow on the wall stops.

Alastor smiles in triumph .

Because now he knows.

Maybe not with certainty, maybe not with every detail, but one of his theories is true. And he's leaning toward one of the latter two. Or quite possibly both.

The fear on your face, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoided looking directly at him for an instant.

Charming.

His grip on your arm relaxes, but he doesn't let go. His shadow slips around you as if waiting for the command to do something.

— So, my dear... —his voice is a soft whisper, with an almost seductive venom — if we're going to talk business... what do you have to offer?

You freeze.

You knew it was coming to this, you knew it. And, still, it hits you hard.

Your mind works at full speed, searching for something, anything, a way out that doesn't involve giving away more information than necessary.

You find nothing.

Shit.

Your breathing barely hitches. You clench your fists, as if that might steady the subtle tremor that threatens to give you away.

You can't give in anymore, can't give him more than he's already taken.

So you lie, again.

—I have nothing of value to offer. —You say it fast, too fast.

Alastor cocks his head. His eyes glitter with mockery.

He knows it's a lie.

You need to pull yourself together. Now.

— Oh? — she sings, with false disappointment- What a pity. And here I thought I was a resourceful woman....

Her tone is playful, but you're challenging yourself.

If she's going to play like that, so will you.

—But if we're going to make a deal... —your voice is firm this time, holding her gaze with more control than you really feel—what do I get in return?

Silence.

— Oh-ho! How amazing...—he laughs, with that inhuman musicality that makes your skin crawl, — you seem to be more familiar with the deals than you lets on.

None of them respond. You can't give him any more than he's already deduced for himself.

Alastor takes a step closer.

You force yourself not to back down.

— Tell me then... what do you think you can get from me? — The question floats between you.

— If you really want a deal... — your voice is firm, without hesitation— tell me the terms. Or there will be absolutely nothing.

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

For a moment, he looks genuinely amused . As if the idea of someone talking to him like that would cause him a strange fascination.

— Why, how brave...—his tone is casual, but that dangerous musicality is still there, running through every word. —And what makes you think you can bargain with me, my dear?

You don't say it out loud, but you know it.

If I really saw you as mere prey, as someone worthless, you would have fallen by now.

You wouldn't be here, arguing with him.

You wouldn't be alive.

That means you have something. Some leverage, maybe not enough to win, but enough to keep you afloat.

— Oh, it's simple, honey. — his smile widens — I get what I want... which will only be known the moment I require it.

Your eyes narrowed.

— And me? you ask.

— You get an absolute favor. — he answers quickly.

— On equal terms?

— Exactly. — His tone is light, almost mocking. — Neither of us will be able to refuse when the time comes.

The thought chills your blood.

An absolute favor from Alastor.

It could mean your brother's salvation. But it also means that at any moment, he could ask for something unthinkable in return.

You analyze it. Minute after minute of cold calculation.

— Who delivers first? — you ask. But Alastor doesn't answer.

He just smiles.

And that tells you all you need to know. Your pulse pounds, but you reach out your hand.

It's a risk, but you take it.

Finally, you inhale deeply and reach out your hand, but Alastor pulls away before you can touch him.

You frown, puzzled, wrinkle your nose in disdain, losing what little patience you have left.

— So...when is that damn deal sealed? — you exclaim in a demanding voice.

— Soon, sweetheart...— you snap your fingers, — but first, we need... privacy.

Without apparent warning, Alastor snaps his fingers immediately, and darkness envelops you.

You don't have time to react, a scream forms in your throat, but it's too late. The shadows catch you, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear with it.

The darkness is absolute for an instant, suffocating, before your eyes adjust and a new reality unfolds before you. You find yourself in a room that defies all logic, a strange amalgam of decadent elegance and wild nature.

Antique crimson velvet furniture contrasts with vines snaking up the walls, and a canopy of dark leaves stretches into a swampy-looking forest.

The scent of damp earth mingles with a sweet, unfamiliar perfume, creating an atmosphere that is equal parts intoxicating and disturbing.

In the center of it all, like a predator in its lair, Alastor watches you.

— Welcome to my humble quarters, my dear.—he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

— Why did you bring me here? — you ask, your voice slightly shakier than you'd like. The place gives you a bad feeling, a visceral sense of danger running through your marrow.

It's the catlike feeling that characterizes it. He stops just inches from you, his gaze fixed on yours, intense and penetrating.

— Because, my dear...—he whispers, his voice a dangerous purr. —this is where important deals are forged.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know something isn't right, that the original proposal was just a facade.

— What are you talking about? —you demand, instinctively backing away.

— My real proposal, of course — Alastor replies, with a grim smile—. You see, I have certain... needs. And you, my dear, could be the key to satisfying them.

You're out of breath. You don't like any of this.

— I propose a new deal — he continues, ignoring your silence.— A more... intimate deal. You offer me one night of your time, and I, in return, will give you the opportunity to gain your absolute favor with no strings attached.

— One night? —You repeat, incredulously. —What do you mean by that?

Alastor tilts his head, his smile widening.

— I'll be direct, my dear. I want your body at my disposal... but on one condition.

You grimace in disgust.

— What kind of condition?

— I'll make you climax, with my hands only. No undue touching, if you manage to resist my attentions, if you manage to keep your composure and not give in to pleasure within a certain time... then, the absolute favor will be yours, without price or condition.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It is madness, an absurd challenge.

— But... if I fail. —you say, your voice barely audible, — what if... if I climax before time runs out?

Alastor's smile turns predatory.

— Then, my dear... I will take your body and soul. Both will be mine. But absolute favor will stand.

Silence hangs over the room, heavy and unsettling. You analyze the proposal, weighing the risks and possible rewards. It's a terrible gamble, you know, but the promise of saving your brother impels you to consider the unthinkable.

— When... when would I have to make my decision?

— Now, sweetness. —Alastor replies, extending a hand toward you. — Time is short. Will you accept my deal?

You hesitate, aware of the trap hidden behind Alastor's smile. You are not naive; you have listened to his conditions carefully, and the idea of being cornered, with no escape, chills your blood. But, despite your fear, you refuse to give in completely.

— The deal must be closed when what you said is done.— you reply, your voice firm despite the trembling in your knees.— Whether you make me climax or not, I will not give you my hand until then.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your audacity. He nods slowly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. He lowers the hand he offered you a moment ago and, with a swift, unexpected movement, conjures his shadow magic.

Dark tendrils coil around your body, imprisoning you against your will, immobilizing your arms and legs. You try to struggle, but the shadows are strong, relentless.

Alastor approaches, the fire of possession burning in his eyes. There is no trace of playfulness in his expression anymore, only raw, predatory intensity. Without delay, he begins his provocation. There are no soft kisses or delicate caresses. Instead, you feel the sting of his bites on your neck, a pleasurable pain that makes you gasp involuntarily.

His claws tangle in your hair, squeezing hard, tugging at your scalp. A moan escapes your lips, an uncontrollable response to the stinging sensation. Apparently, that's a particularly sensitive area.

Alastor slides his free hand down to your breasts, where he squeezes firmly. The pain is sharp, almost unbearable, but mixed with a current of excitement that takes you by surprise. A louder, more desperate moan erupts from your throat.

He grunts in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him. You sense that his patience is wearing thin, that he is on the verge of losing control.

Alastor leans into you, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispers words that are both possessive and provocative.

— You are mine, my dear. There is no escape from this— he says, each syllable infused with a burning desire that causes the heat between you to rise.

Your mind struggles to stay afloat, but his every word is like a fire fanning the flames in your body. At first, you had believed that you could resist him, that Alastor could not provoke any sensation in you. Now, however, you find yourself in a feverish state as he slips his hand under your dress, reaching for your pussy through the delicate fabric of your underwear.

With deliberate slowness, his finger finds the twitching bud in you, and a surprised moan escapes your lips.

— Is this what you meant? -you exclaim, disbelief mingling with uncontrollable excitement.

Alastor nods, his smile widening as he watches your body react to his touch. Again, he begins the assault, tracing small circles around your clitoris, stimulating your need with a mastery that leaves you breathless.

— Mmm... how about this? —he asks in a teasing tone.

You gasp, cocking your head to one side. The static emanating from Alastor only intensifies your feverish state, and you realize you are caught between desire and resistance.

Curses escape your lips, sweet moans that he visibly enjoys.

—No... I can't...— you murmur between gasps.

— Oh, but you really can. — he replies in a deep voice.— You just have to let yourself go.

His eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hunger as he increases the speed of his movements. Now, two claws work at a murderous pace, stripping you of your underwear and leaving you exposed to his will. You feel on the verge of fainting, but your mind has not yet succumbed completely; you want to resist the delicious sensations that pervade everything.

— Alastor! — you cry out, feeling the line between pleasure and pain blur.— This is not fair...

— Life is never fair, my dear— he replies in an almost playful tone. But you have chosen this path.

As his fingers continue their provocative dance, you feel each touch become a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body trembles under his control; his every movement is like a spell that envelops you further in his grid.

You look into each other's eyes in a moment of clarity; you both know what is at stake here. The internal struggle intensifies as you struggle between desire and the need to stand firm in your decision. But Alastor's shadows seem to take hold of you, and in that crucial instant, you feel pleasure begin to gain ground over reason.

You whimper as Alastor modulates the speed of his fingers, first fast, then slow, and finally, fast again, bringing you to the brink again and again.

Alastor maintains a strained smile, and one of his shadows behind him stirs restlessly, twitching with an intensity that makes your hair stand on end.

He growls plagued with terrifying static as he senses the shadow moving too close to you, as if it has the very intentions of possessing something of your body.

As you are lost in the maelstrom of sensations, eyes closed and little moans escaping your lips, you feel him shallowly slide his fingers through your intimacy, soaking in your arousal.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize the possessiveness in that gesture.

And again, he concentrates on stimulating your clitoris with violent intensity. The games are over. The pleasurable torture becomes a direct assault on your senses.

You feel your body tense, and Alastor senses it. He knows that you are very close to the edge, and with that information, he orders you, with a partially aggressive sentence

— Open your mouth.

Powerless, you obey. You open your lips and, before you can let out a piercing cry that announces your orgasm, Alastor thrusts his elongated tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan in a wet, intense kiss.

You both moan in the midst of that whirlwind of sensations, as the aftershocks of climax shatter you.

Your body shudders, and a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A broad smile, full of delight, lights up Alastor's face as he pulls away from you, leaving a trickle of saliva still connecting his lips to yours.

You feel exhausted, vulnerable, but also strangely satisfied.

In the haze of your climax, in the confusion of overflowing sensations, you had completely forgotten that you had to resist, that your soul was at stake.

But Alastor takes care to remind you at once, with a sentence that leaves no doubt that now follows the best part, at least for him.

— Oh, dear, you almost forgot, didn't you?— He says with a hint of mockery in his voice, though his eyes shine with an intensity that warns you that this is much more than just a game.— Remember our deal, my possession. You belong to me now.

You feel a slight pang of frustration for having lost, for having let yourself be carried away by pleasure, but also a strange shame comes over you as you realize how much you had desired this contact.

Alastor, with studied casualness, informs you.

— It won't be easy to take me completely, I know... but I know you will succeed.— he whispers softly.

You try to reply, to protest the unfairness of the situation, but Alastor already has you against the ground, immobilized once again by his shadows. You are unable to move, unable to escape his hold.

You gasp as you feel him on top of you, imprisoning you with his weight. From that position, his body looks even more imposing, his presence completely overwhelming you. Your heart begins to race as you feel strands of his hair brush against your cheek, and finally, you look into his eyes.

Ironically, you now find him almost attractive. The spark of madness in his gaze, the predatory intensity that emanates from him, awaken a strange fascination in you.

You mentally beat yourself up for even considering the idea. How could you find attractive this being who had manipulated you and now claimed you as his own? In a muffled voice, feigned really, you tell Alastor to hurry up, trying to hide the growing excitement coursing through you.

— Get it over with already. — you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

Alastor, hearing your demand that he hurry up, lets out a chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. You sense a slight feeling of helplessness growing in him, as if your apparent indifference is hurting him somehow.

He feels your response as a rejection, a denial of his power over you, and that is enough to alter his needy state. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere around you becomes charged with a palpable electricity.

Again, the fingers that brought you to climax return to your intimacy, slipping between your wet, throbbing lips.

— Look what a mess you've made, my darling. All this... just for me. — he says in a husky voice, almost devoid of his filter.

In the midst of provocation, you open your lips, almost exclaiming a sentence imploring for more or perhaps for mercy, but the words get caught in your throat when Alastor thrusts one of his claws inside you. It's not a delicate caress; it's a possessive invasion that steals your breath.

You squeeze Alastor's arm hard with one hand, your nails digging into his skin. With the other, you cling desperately to the creaking wood beneath your back, searching for an anchor point amidst the storm of sensations whipping through you.

—You like this, don't you? — Alastor asks, his voice a husky whisper that brushes against your ear. Admit it.

You try to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing you give in, but the intensity of your touches overcomes you. A choked moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to the relentless stimulation.

— No... shut up. — you murmur between gasps, trying to regain control.

— Shut me up? —Alastor mocks, intensifying his grip. —Why should I shut up when I'm enjoying your pleasure so much?

You feel how Alastor's claws move inside you, stretching and probing every nerve, exploring every sensitive corner. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a dizzying sensation that makes you lose track of time and space.

— Please... — you beg, your voice barely audible.

He stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours.

— Please what, my dear? — He asks with a hungry smile, — Please make you feel even more pleasure? Please make me take you to the edge of madness?

You know you're on the edge of the abyss, that if you give in any more, you'll lose yourself completely in his game. But a part of you, a dark and twisted part, longs to fall.

You hide your face in Alastor's shoulder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to give you away, as he continues his assault, deeper now, more relentless.

He has no mercy for you, but you know he is only preparing you for something else, something even more intense.

Yet, hearing you in such a way, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, leaves him without resistance. Your gasping breath, your trembling body, the slight quiver in your voice... all of it further ignites the fire that burns within him.

You beg, almost inaudibly, for this to end, not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure that begins to frighten you, because of the fear of losing control completely.

— Please... no more. — you whisper, clinging to his shoulder as if your life depended on it.

He shakes his head, without stopping his movement. You look up and watch Alastor's deer ears twist with every moan he emits, as if the very manifestation of his being is responding to your pleasure.

So, dizzy in the whirlwind of sensations, you move even closer to his ear and moan lasciviously, giving yourself over completely to the provocation.

Alastor squints as he feels a violent electricity run through him. That's when he pulls his fingers from you and, with a quick, almost animalistic movement, unbuttons his dress pants.

You are both still dressed; he has not removed your dress for the urgency of the moment, and neither was he going to remove his own clothes for the same reason. Impatience and primal desire dominate the scene.

His cock shoots out of his pants, throbbing and raging. You look at it, admiring and fearful at the same time, but before you can even have a say in what you see, Alastor lifts you off the ground.

He carries you over your arms in a vulnerable position, with your legs apart, wrapped around his waist. You feel him slowly slide inside you, preparing you for what is to come.

The initial stretch is uncomfortable, almost painful, but he allows you to get used to it for a few minutes, where you avoid looking at his face at all costs, embarrassed by your own surrender.

At once, he begins to move, with slow lunges at first, testing your limits. You desperately seek to hold on to something, but it is useless; the only support is Alastor himself, so you have no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his sack as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside you.

You moan, writhe and curse as the demon seems possessed by your inner heat. Each thrust is a declaration of dominance, a reaffirmation of his control over you. Pleasure mixes with pain, excitement with fear, creating a sense of chaos that completely disorients you.

— Who is in control now? —Alastor whispers in your ear, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

You do not respond, intoxicated by the intensity of the act, completely lost in the whirlwind of sensations that consumes you. Your silence is a defiance, a silent rebellion that further ignites Alastor's desire.

In response, he thrusts deeply and rudely against you, at first in an effort to force you to respond, to submit completely to his will.

But when he hears the whimper that escapes your lips, a sound that mixes pleasure and pain, his animal instinct takes over completely. He gasps in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him, as if your tears are the fuel that feeds his inner fire.

You feel his cock press even deeper inside you, twisting with unrelenting fury.

But before you can even look at him, before you can try to regain some control, he begins to fuck you wildly, unleashed. Multiple fast, deep, messy lunges drive you over the edge, forcing you to scream out his name.

You cling even tighter to Alastor, hunched over him completely, digging your nails into his back in search of a foothold. You beg him, desperately, not to go so fast, to have some mercy.

— Please... Alastor... stop, stop, please —you whimper between sobs, begging for a breath.

But he responds with even more savagery, ignoring your pleas, possessed by the need to bring you to the breaking point.

— I can't...I don't want to. — he growls against your neck, his voice filled with an urgency that frightens you.— I want you...I need you.....

Tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, mingling with the sweat that drenches your face. You moan and sob urgently, completely overcome by the intensity of the moment. Every thrust rips a scream from you, every rubbing makes you tremble with pleasure and pain.

You are on the verge of madness, on the verge of losing yourself completely.

— Alastor... Alastor! — you cry out, begging for an end that you know will not come soon.

In that moment of absolute vulnerability, you feel something change in Alastor. His fury transforms into desperate need, his savagery into total surrender.

And in that instant, he understands that, though he claims you as his own, he too is at the mercy of this desire.

Alastor, completely lost in the moment, unleashes dark, glowing magic from his body, chaotic energy pulsing around you. He hears you crying and begging, but he cannot and will not turn back. The point of no return has arrived; it is time to seal the deal completely.

The demon transforms. Red dials flare in his darkened eyes, his antlers lengthen, menacing, and a grotesque seam appears around his smile for a brief moment, revealing the madness that lurks behind his mask of civility.

— Now, sweetness, it's time to close the deal. — he exclaims with complete madness, each word echoing through the space. Give me your soul, your body, your devotion and your absolute loyalty.

He continues to thrust, his voice strained and tight from how wet you are, from the pleasure it brings him. The slippery echo of each movement reverberates through the room, creating an atmosphere of wildness and desperation.

You are simply lost, completely consumed by the sensations. At this moment, nothing else matters anymore.

Fuck those filthy pieces of shit that have your brother under threat. Fuck the plan to research everything about Alastor, his weaknesses and shit. 

The only thing you long for, the only thing you want with every fiber of your being, is to come together with him, with Alastor, to melt completely in this moment of madness and passion.

You nod, completely overpowered by the sensations. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe in the midst of the storm raging through you. You moan a long "yes" against Alastor's lips, without closing the distance completely, offering him a silent promise of total surrender.

He, satisfied to hear your acceptance, closes the deal. A cursed green aura washes over you in the midst of the final onslaught, a magical energy that binds your souls forever. You cling tightly to Alastor as he drags you into the last orgasm, a destructive and messy one that awakens in you an irrepressible urge to kiss him again.

He didn't expect such an action, and surprise runs through him like an electric shock. With that simple act, with that unexpected surrender, he cums inside you with a tense grunt, releasing all the contention he had built up.

And as the aftershocks of climax end, you both remain in that position, breathing hard, trying to regain your breath and control.

Sweat drenches their bodies, their hearts beat wildly, and silence closes over the room, charged with a palpable electricity.

Your soul is now Alastor's; You are bound to him for eternity. And right now, in the midst of confusion and exhaustion, it doesn't seem like a lousy transaction.

And as the haze of pleasure begins to dissipate, allowing sanity to slowly return to your mind, a stinging thought bursts into your consciousness: your brother.

Reality hits you as you remember the reasons you had ventured into this dangerous game with Alastor. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued you until now have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of resignation and... hope.

Now, you no longer feel that paralyzing anguish over your fate. Instead, you cling to the certainty that you have done everything possible for him, that he has sacrificed your own freedom to ensure his survival.

Yet a new restlessness begins to grow within you. Will he understand your sacrifice? Will he understand the magnitude of what you have done for him?

Oh, you hope, with every fiber of your being, that he will truly understand, that he will not judge you for the choices you have made, for the price you have paid.It was all for him, for your beloved brother, the only tie that bound you to your forgotten humanity.

Alastor slowly pulls away from you, watching you with an indecipherable expression. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity, as if he is trying to unravel the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

— So...— he says with his characteristic smile, a smile that is now as familiar to you as it is unsettling. —Do you regret your decision?

You look into his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Even though your soul belongs to him, you refuse to give in completely to his dominion.

— No. —you answers in a firm voice, defying his gaze, — I regret nothing I have done for my brother.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your answer.

— How noble. — he says with a hint of mockery. But make no mistake, your sacrifice does not end here.— Now that your soul belongs to me, you have an eternity by my side.

— What more do you want from me? — you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— I want you to stay by my side. — he whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr. —I want you to be with me, to help me reach my goals. I want you to be my companion... in every sense of the word.

You feel a shiver run through your body. The idea of spending eternity at Alastor's side, bound to him by a magical bond, terrifies and fascinates you at the same time.

— And... what about my brother? — you ask, clinging to the hope that you can still help.

Alastor smiles, revealing the row of sharp teeth.

— Your brother will be safe, my dear. — he says in a voice that exudes confidence. —I promise.

You know you're trapped, that there's no escape from this deal. But you also know you have a chance to change things, to influence Alastor's plans, to protect those you care about.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a hint of hope, you take his face in your hands and kiss it, sealing your fate.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible to make a deal with him after all. You both won, he made sure of that detail.

He may have your soul now, but you still had absolute favor.

Yes, it was definitely a better deal than many you were offered all around Hell.

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Little Dear | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings Smut, Nsfw, Alastor is in hell for a reason, possessiveness, attraction, sexual tension, strangers to lovers, P in V, raunchy sex, creampie, Lector is in hell for a reason, bratty attitude, Discord (Lucifer), MDNI, Typical canon violence, Mafia implications, Mimzy knows who is Reader, lots of bad language. Summary Fleeing a fate worse than damnation, your steps lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, the most ridiculed place in all of Hell. You couldn't have come at a worse time much less crossed paths with the worst person in Hell. N: I'm sorry for the delay, there were some technical problems (disease) but here I bring this piece of smut, enjoy! Second story coming soon *wink*.

Of all the places you could be right now, you never imagined you would end up in front of the huge, decadent Hazbin Hotel, the place that all hell was making fun of as if it were a bad joke. A place that, for many, was nothing more than a badly told joke, a ridiculous fantasy of redemption in a world where forgiveness was as scarce as sunlight.

And you were beginning to think you had arrived at the worst possible moment.

Your gaze swept over the scene in front of you, trying to process the spectacle of overflowing tension unfolding between the King of Hell and the radio demon.

How had you ended up right in the middle of this? Just another tenant in a hotel that sold itself as a haven of redemption, caught up in a game of egos that vibrated with static electricity and bad intentions.

Cornered between facing the consequences of your decisions or running away without dignity, you had chosen the latter. But now you were here, caught in a storm of power and influence where every glance carried a different poison.

The nervous twitch in Alastor's eye did not go unnoticed by you. His usual mischievous grin was stiff, the pressure of his jaw evident even beneath the glint of his sharp expression. One glance and you knew this was going downhill imminently.

Lucifer stood there, with his imposing bearing - despite his short stature - and that damned smile of false courtesy, holding his staff with an apple on the tip, as if this was all a game that he was assured of winning. Alastor, for his part, remained steadfast, radiating a presence that darkened the atmosphere, especially when his hands rested too familiarly on Charlie's shoulders.

It was an instant, a spark, but enough for Lucifer to intervene. His smile didn't falter for a second, but the way he pushed Alastor's hand away with a swipe of his forearm made his displeasure clear.

You watched as Alastor brought his hand to the affected area and slowly stroked it with his fingertips, without losing his smile.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Not from the blow, but from the look the red demon cast towards the sovereign.

It was not anger.

And yet, it was still something dangerous.

You rolled your eyes, feeling that you were witnessing the most ridiculous and dangerous rivalry at the same time. As if both were two beasts in a territorial duel, using gestures and sharp words instead of claws and fangs.

—Charlie, daughter, why don't you introduce me to your other friends? — Lucifer exclaimed in a light tone, his melodic and charming voice echoing in the air. His staff was raised a little higher, the red apple glowing in the light.

Charlie broadly, trying to hide the obvious tension in the air.

— Oh, of course! Dad, this is Vaggie, my girlfriend.— replied the princess, as she looked at Vaggie with a cozy, sweet affection.

The King of Hell seemed to exhale with relief at hearing the word "bride," as if that dispelled any misconceptions that hovered in his mind about the closeness between his daughter and Alastor. The latter, however, remained in the background, his dark eyes watching the scene closely.

It was only for a second, but you felt his gaze meet yours.

That simple eye contact was enough for a shiver to settle on your back.

You didn't know how long you were caught in that exchange of glances until Charlie grabbed your arm, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts and away from Alastor's enveloping presence.

— And she, Dad, is our new tenant. —Charlie announced excitedly.Lucifer turned his attention to you, and for the first time, examined you with genuine curiosity.

—Well...— he whispered, smiling a broad, refined smile.

In his bright gaze something difficult to decipher. Perhaps surprise. Perhaps interest. Or maybe he was just evaluating something he himself found fascinating.

As if it was the first time he had seen a sinner without obvious demonic traits.He stepped forward and took your hand gently, bending slightly to bring it to his lips.

— It's such a pleasure.— he murmured, his silky voice bordering on charming and calculating.

His touch was brief, just a light pressure of his lips against your skin, but enough to send a shiver through you. You knew how to hide it well, keeping your expression serene, but when Lucifer winked at you in an uncovered way, the discomfort became more evident inside you.

Instinctively, your gaze lifted... and you made a grave mistake.

Alastor was no longer simply staring.

No.

The twitch in his eye had intensified, his smile was strained to the point of looking like an edge about to tear. His brow barely furrowed, his fingers gripping his cane with calculated pressure.

The atmosphere became dense, and without warning, the sharp stroke of his staff broke the contact between your hand and Lucifer's.

— Oh, what a pity, your majesty! —Alastor intoned with venomous politeness, bowing his head in mock apology.— I didn't notice.

The impact resounded, but Lucifer only raised an eyebrow, smirking.

— How clumsy, Alastor. I'm surprised you're not more careful. — Alastor kept his smile, but the darkness in his eyes intensified.

— It's a flaw of mine, I suppose.— he replied with wry lightness, as his fingers gripped his staff tighter.

The air around him vibrated with a slight crackle of static.

And then, the tension exploded in a crossfire of words laden with mockery, defiance and hatred disguised as diplomacy. Subtle insults and veiled jabs of arrogance filled the air until, finally, Alastor dropped the entire facade of politeness with a single word, one that escaped his mouth with a charge of pure irritation.

— Fuck you! — The filter in his voice distorted the word, but the rage hidden in it was impossible to ignore.

Lucifer blinked, then laughed. Not with genuine amusement, but with the kind of laughter of someone enjoying an impending fight.

And you, caught in the middle of it all, could only wonder how the hell you were going to get out of there without the situation becoming even more chaotic.

Because if one thing was certain...It was that the storm was just beginning.

The air was already tense, charged with the growing hostility between Lucifer and Alastor, when suddenly a third voice broke into the conversation.

— I've arrived, Al!

The high-pitched, overly animated sound contrasted with the gravity of the moment, causing a regretful silence in the room. Everyone present turned their heads towards the newcomer, with the same puzzled expression, as a hulking figure strode forward with a firm step and imposing attitude.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, visibly irritated by the interruption.

— Ah, Who? — he asked coolly, his eyebrow arching as he didn't recognize the voice.

But the answer came before anyone could explain.

— Mimzy, of course! — Your stomach cringed at the sound of that name.

As soon as your eyes recognized her, they widened like saucers. Mimzy. That damn woman.

Murmurs began to spread through the room as the relationship between her and Alastor became apparent. Her closeness with the radio demon, the familiarity with which she had called him...even the slight relaxation in Alastor's posture at the sight of her.

A new detail that left everyone in shock.

Alastor, who barely and barely tolerated the presence of most, seemed... pleased with her arrival.

But the worst was not that.

The worst was that, after scanning the room with an air of superiority, Mimzy fixed her attention on Lucifer, and her expression changed. His eyes shone with a particular sparkle, his face took on a smile of fascination and admiration.

Oh, of course.

Now she was also dazzled by the ruler of Hell.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore her as you discreetly slid up to the bar. You grabbed a glass at random and raised it slowly, pretending to be more interested in the drink than the new arrival.

Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't look at her, she wouldn't notice you.

But you knew it was a futile hope.

Your hunch was confirmed when Mimzy, with all the confidence in the world, advanced to the bar and settled next to you, waiting for Husk to pour her something strong.Your breathing remained steady, but your body was stiff.

Angel Dust, at your side, seemed much more interested in deciphering the relationship between Mimzy and Alastor than in noticing your discomfort.

But Mimzy did notice.

She watches you with a slight frown, as if trying to remember where she met you.

And then, it happened.

Her expression changed completely when she recognized your face.

—So here you were! — she exclaimed, his shrill tone piercing your ears like a rusty nail.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you reacted immediately.

— I don't know what you're talking about, I don't know you,— you answered in a modulated voice, trying to feign disinterest.

But it was too late.

Mimzy didn't buy your act for a second.

Her eyes narrowed and a smile full of venom spread across her face.

— Come on...— she murmured, leaning toward you with a sweet but intent tone. — You left everyone dead by your departure.

The sentence was carefully constructed. It was not a simple comment, but an accusation disguised as nostalgia.

You knew exactly what he meant.Your throat went dry for a moment, but before you could respond, before you could even process the weight of his words...An explosion reverberated through the hotel.

The walls vibrated violently, the lights flickered, and the deafening roar of the detonation rippled through the building, throwing several of those present to the floor.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

Cries of confusion and alarm rose, mingling with the crunch of falling debris. Husk cursed loudly, covering his head, as Angel Dust clung to the counter to keep from being knocked over.

Your glass shattered against the floor as the impact jolted you, but you didn't have time to worry about it.

Turning your head, your pulse racing and your mind still shaken by the recent explosion that had erupted before your eyes, you found Mimzy in a state of absolute hysteria. Her hands were shaking, her eyes moving frantically, as if her mind was trying to calculate at full speed the next step.

You frowned suspiciously. There was something about her reaction that didn't quite add up. It wasn't just fear, but an unmistakable certainty that she knew exactly what was going on.

And make no mistake.

The clatter of furious pounding against the gate echoed through the air, followed by a male voice exploding with

—Mimzy! You fucking bitch, we know you're here. — The threat came with the force of thunder, echoing off the walls, charged with hatred and the promise of imminent violence.

Your breathing stopped for a moment. That tone... that voice... A shiver ran down your spine as your mind immediately identified it. The world around you seemed to vanish for a second.

— Holy shit... — you whispered, feeling your heart hammering in your chest.

But you were not alone in that recognition. Next to you, Mimzy murmured exactly the same thing.

Her eyes met yours. You didn't need words to understand what that meant. You were both running from the same nightmare.

Before you could process it, a blinding glow illuminated the room and a portal burst open. From inside emerged Charlie, his father and Vaggie. The latter, with a frown on her face and her voice heavy with tension, asked:

— ¿Qué carajo? — Vaggie exclaimed coming out of the portal.

Chaos was tangible in the air. Mimzy, still panting, confessed with a frustrated addition:

— I fucked those bastards.

Of course, you wouldn't judge her. You had done exactly the same thing. But there was a problem.

They didn't know you were here.

— Hey, you filthy pieces of shit! — A shrill, mocking voice pierced the tension of the moment, freezing your blood. — Guess who's here!

Panic turned to pure fire in your veins. You turned your head just in time to see the wretched woman who, with a cruel smile, was screaming your name at the top of her lungs, handing over your location to those damn sharks.

For an instant, rage and survival instinct eclipsed all other thoughts.

You let out a choked scream and, without thinking twice, you threw yourself on her with the force of a wild beast.

— Fucking bitch! I'll kill you! — you bellowed as you lunged into the air.

The impact sent both of you crashing onto the bar with a crash. Glasses and bottles shattered under the weight of the fight. The bitch went cold, trying to get away, but you didn't give her a chance. Your fists descended in fury, slamming into her face with a rage that had been building up for some time.

In the background, Charlie screamed in terror, trying to stop the fight.

Angel jumped back, stumbling and falling over a table with a curse.

And Husker... that bastard just laughed, eyes narrowed in pure delight, watching you smash the face of the wretch who had just put your life in danger.

Chaos erupted in the hotel like a symphony of destruction. While your hands still clutched the traitor with the intention of beating her existence out of existence, an explosion of fire erupted inside the building. The shockwave shook the walls and sent flames in all directions, devouring curtains and reducing furniture to ashes.

From outside, the clatter of splintering wood and the deafening screams of the mobsters indicated that they had not come to negotiate. No, those bastards had brought a damn catapult.

— HAHAAHA! You've got guts, you cock-warming bitch! — roared a mocking voice from outside. — Did you really think you could run away from me, beauty?!

The tone was a mixture of sadistic delight and suppressed fury. The blood in your veins froze, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to move, to tear out the throat of the one who had betrayed you, but a pair of arms held you tightly.

— That's enough, doll! — Angel Dust struggled with you, pulling with all her might until you managed to break free from Mimzy.

The woman was left leaning against the bar, panting with a blank stare. Her face was bruised, her lipstick smeared, her hair a mess of curls and blood. You were in no better shape, but at least you could stand.

The tension rose as Vaggie, his face alight with fury, raised his spear with determination.

— I'm not going to stand here and wait for them to kill us, I'm going to fight those bastards!

Her shout echoed loudly, but before she could take another step, a guttural, mocking laugh came from behind her.

— Easy, my dear... — Alastor's voice, charming and dark at the same time, drifted through the air like a shiver. — Leave them to me.

A heavy silence spread as his smile widened wider than any normal face should allow.

— I'll show them all... why I'm here.

His figure began to change, elongating in a spiral of shadows and twisted energy. His antlers grew with a grotesque crackle, expanding like infernal branches. Its eyes took on a dull, sinister glow, dark dials swirling in its pupils as its body distended into imposing size. The atmosphere became suffocating.

From the floor, Mimzy let out a dry laugh.

— Finally! You were late, you bastard!

Alastor's laughter was the last thing you saw before he slid out the door with inhuman grace, leaving behind an echo of pure malevolence.

But while he indulged in his personal carnage, another battle raged inside.Lucifer, standing with the elegance of a king on the verge of an announced collapse, looked at his daughter with a grave expression.

—This is what I was trying to tell you, Charlie. — His voice was calm, but with an edge of deadly warning. — Sinners will never change.

Charlie, his face creaking and his hands trembling, clenched his fists tightly.Hell was on fire, and his conviction hung in the balance.

Flames were still smoldering in the wreckage when the massacre finally came to an end.

The air was thick with the smell of blood, gunpowder and burnt flesh. Outside, the dismembered bodies of the mobsters mingled with the rubble, and in the center of it all, Alastor was settling his jacket with a satisfied smile.

Inside the hotel, Charlie was trying, almost desperately, to talk some sense into his father.

— Dad, don't you see? — Her voice was laden with emotion, the pain visible in his expression. — Alastor may have... brutal methods, but at least he's helping us. Isn't that what matters?

Lucifer watched her in silence, his face inscrutable. His eyes reflected the disappointment of someone who had already seen the truth countless times and expected nothing different.

The scene was touching, it really was.

But you were too busy directing looks of pure contempt at Mimzy, who, of course, merely shrugged her shoulders with an expression of indifference. Her attitude only fueled your anger, but before you could say anything, a hoarse, cracked voice caught everyone's attention.

The last shark demon, staggering with its mangled body, dared to speak.

— You may be protecting those two bitches now... — His voice dripped venom, barely held by the thread of life she had left. — But that bitch who came before Mimzy is mine, MINE, AND I WILL KILL HER!

His words pierced the air with utter contempt.

A tense silence fell over the scene.

For an instant, Alastor did not react. His smile froze on his face, his head tilting just a millimeter as if he was processing what he had just heard.

Then he laughed.

A slow, thick laugh, full of twisted delight.

— She's yours, you say? — he repeated with unnatural sweetness. — Oh, wow... that's pretty hilarious.

And without giving a chance for more words, he devoured it.

Slowly.

Painfully.

The shark's shrieks of agony mingled with the sounds of its flesh being ripped away, its life snuffed out in desperate death throes.

Everyone present stood in complete silence, unable to look away from the horror show.

Finally, when it was all over, Alastor exhaled with satisfaction and shook his hands as if he had simply got rid of a little annoyance.

— Ah, my. — he commented in an almost nonchalant tone. — It's been a long time since I've been able to let off steam in such a way.

He settled his jacket with meticulous precision, as if nothing had happened.

Mimzy, who had been paralyzed all this time, straightened up like a frightened animal. Even with her attitude discarded, she could not hide the trembling in her hands as she muttered.

— Well... thanks for the help, Alastor. — Then, with a mocking and ironic tone, he added: — I'm very sorry for the disasters.

The demon did not respond immediately.

His smile was still present, but there was something else in his expression... something dangerous.

Then, when she dared to continue speaking, blurting out a comment about what a good friend he was, Alastor simply closed his eyes for a moment.His brow furrowed slightly.

— Go away, Mimzy. Get out.— His voice had not changed in sweetness, but the edge in his words was unmistakable.

She blinked, surprised by the cold tone.

— Huh? What's the matter with you now?

— You came here deliberately — he continued with forced patience — and endangered everyone. Go away... before I end up with you too.

The shiver that ran through Mimzy was almost visible. But instead of keeping quiet, her wounded pride made her let out one last retort, furious and defensive.

— This hotel is a trash ball full of freaks and misfits!

However, when his dark eyes landed on you, something inside you tensed.

The way he looked at you, with that smile still plastered on his face but with a twinkle in his eye that you couldn't quite decipher, sent a shiver down your spine.It was a warning.

Or something worse.

The atmosphere was still charged with the tension of what had happened, but you were no longer paying attention to any of it.

The murmur of the others faded into a distant echo as you made a clear decision in your mind: leave that damned hotel from hell.

That place was permeated with bad luck, with absolute chaos, with problems that only seemed to multiply.

Slipping into the shadows, you began to walk away without arousing suspicion. No one seemed to notice, too absorbed in the drama of Mimzy and Alastor, in the feud between Charlie and Lucifer, in the mess that still smoldered inside and outside the hotel.

You don't look back. There was no reason to.

Running through the corridors, you reached your room with your heart pounding in your chest, more from the urgency to leave than from fear. Once inside, you closed the door tightly and hurried to gather your things.

Your hands worked fast, saving the essentials: the little you had brought with you, any valuables, and, of course, the money you had stolen from that damned mobster.

With every bill you put in the bag, you felt a kind of bitter satisfaction. At least you'd walk away with something.

But when you finished and headed for the door, something changed.

The air became thick.

The electricity in the air crackled with a strange static that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

Before your hand touched the doorknob, a presence materialized behind you.

— Too much of a hurry to flee, my dear? — Alastor's voice hit you with a mixture of sharp sweetness and a buzz of static that chilled you to the bone.

Your muscles immediately tensed.

Something inside you screamed that you were not afraid. That you didn't show weakness.

There is nothing behind you. Don't look at it. Just open the door and walk away.

You rested your hand on the knob firmly, but as soon as you tried to turn it, a dry snap echoed in the room.

A sound similar to that of a disappointed parent reprimanding a disobedient child.

— Too bad, precious... — His tone became more serious, much more than you had ever heard from him before. And worse. He didn't have the filter.

It was his real voice.

A primitive, deep sound, a whisper of something that was not meant to exist on this plane.

The sensation that ran through your body was not just a shiver. It was absolute terror.Your fingers loosened on the doorknob.

You knew you could no longer ignore it.

Slowly, with the weight of uncertainty weighing on you, you turned around.

The silence between the two of you was a suffocating presence in the room.

You watch him closely, every little detail of your posture, every shadow that seemed to move subtly around his figure. To the naked eye, Alastor seemed serene , completely at ease, with that polite smile that always adorned his face like an unwavering mask.

If you hadn't heard that voice of his moments before, the real one, the one that demanded and threatened with a tone that rumbled in your bones, you could have sworn he even seemed docile.

But you were not naive. He could not deceive you.

Fear pulsed in your veins like a slow poison, but still, it forced you to keep your composure. Pretending bravery was the only thing you could do, even if you knew you didn't really possess it.

You stepped forward, you faced him.

— What the hell do you care if I leave or not? — you demanded, your voice trying to sound firm, though the slight tremor in it betrayed you.

Alastor let out a loud, raucous laugh, the radio filter distorting the sound with an unsettling echo.

You felt a spark of genuine anger.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to resist the mockery, and waited for him to speak.

— Honey, you can stop pretending.— he said with obvious mockery, his smile stretching in an almost predatory manner. — That role of bravery doesn't fit you.

And then he advanced.

His steps were firm, graceful, but had an implied danger that made you, without thinking, step back.Still, you held his gaze.

— To run away from those pathetic attempts of demons, to hide perfectly and only be found by a betrayal... my dear, I'm impressed. — Her voice took on a honeyed, enveloping, manipulative tone. — What did you do?

The weight of his words fell on you like an unbearable burden.

But you would not falter. Not with him.

— Leave me alone — you answer in a broken voice. You wanted to sound calm, but you weren't succeeding. And you both knew it. — I just want to leave this place.

Alastor arched an eyebrow, feigning consideration, before narrowing the distance between you alarmingly.

— Mmm... I don't know. — His tone took on a more amused tinge, as if he was enjoying the game. —I have another detail in mind.

His smile widened, and the gleam in his red eyes became even more intense.

— That piece of meat I devoured a few minutes ago said something very interesting? — he muttered mischievously. — He called you a "cock warmer", if I'm not mistaken.

His gaze descended slowly and deliberately down your body, analyzing you as if you were a piece up for auction.

— A very appropriate name for you, indeed.

The boiling of your blood was immediate .

You gritted your teeth, rage burning in your chest as you glared at him.

— Fuck you... — you whispered angrily.

And in the blink of an eye, the distance between you disappeared.

— Do you think I didn't see how the great king, Lucifer, looked at you like a dirty doll to satisfy? — he remarked with apparent amusement, though his voice had a bitter, dark note, hard to decipher.

The way he said it, with that cutting laugh, with that tone full of an emotion you could not understand, puzzled you.

You opened your eyes in surprise, incredulous at his words.

But you weren't going to let yourself be swept away in anger.

If he wanted to play, then you would provoke him into his own game.

You smiled sideways, and in a mocking tone, you blurted out:

— Don't tell me... is it envy I see and hear? —you raised an eyebrow while tilting your face.

The twinkle in your eye was a direct challenge.

Alastor tightened his smile for the first time .

And that was enough for you to seize the opportunity.

— I think someone wants the place of the sexy sovereign. — you whispered provocatively and mockingly.

The demon's expression froze for only an instant, before returning to normal. But you noticed the way his fingers twitched subtly.

You smiled even wider.

— I bet if I went right now, I could check out how good your majesty is. — Your voice took on a seductive cadence, accompanied by a deliberate gesture: you bit your lower lip as slowly as possible.

The result was instantaneous .

Alastor growled.

A real growl, low and dangerous, as his patience finally broke.

In one swift movement, he cornered you against the door , his arms locking you in with no escape.

Breaths mingled dangerously at such a distance.

You met his gaze closely, his eyes burning with something you hadn't seen in them before.

When he spoke, his voice descended to a dangerous murmur, laden with a dense, heavy weight, something you didn't know whether to interpret as a threat or... something worse.

— Don't push your luck, my dear.— His tone was serious, and there was a latent frustration in it that took your breath away.

Latent sexual frustration.

The cadence in his voice distorted your perception of things, and you felt dizzy seeing him in this state.

— Any luck? — You whispered with irony as he laughed — Come on, dear radio demon, we both know what you want — You exclaimed looking him in the eyes.

Alastor's lip curved into a predatory smile as he heard your response. The frustration you glimpsed in his eyes intensified, but he did not recoil. On the contrary, he seemed pleased to have provoked such a bold reaction in you.

— Oh, really? Enlighten me, my dear, what do you think I want? — His breath caressed your face as he spoke, and you could feel the slight trembling of his body against yours.

Fury raged through you like wildfire, but you would not allow yourself to show weakness. You lifted your chin and looked him straight in the eye, not giving an inch of ground.

— Don't play. We both know this isn't about Lucifer or my past. It's about power. It's about control. And about proving that you can have what you want, when you want it.

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, laden with cynicism.

— Insightful, as always. But you're wrong about one thing, precious. Power and control are certainly attractive, but what I'm really interested in is seeing how far you're willing to go to protect your secrets. — He brought his face even closer to yours, his red eyes shining with an almost hypnotic intensity.

— How much are you willing to sacrifice? Your dignity? Your morals? Or perhaps... something more valuable?

Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you refused to look away.

— have nothing to offer you, Alastor. And I'm not afraid of you.

— Ah, aren't you? —He whispered, his tone suggesting otherwise. — Then why are you trembling?

His hand slowly rose and brushed your cheek gently, tracing a line of fire along your skin. You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting the wave of sensations that swept over you.

— I'm not afraid of you.— you repeated, though your voice sounded slightly weaker this time.

— Prove it. —The demand was a challenge, an invitation to cross a dangerous line.

You opened your eyes and met her gaze, and for a moment, you were lost in the darkness that emanated from it.

What did you want to prove? That you could resist her charm? Or that you were capable of yielding to temptation?

Before you could respond, Alastor leaned in and brushed your lips with his. The contact was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to ignite a spark inside you.

You broke away abruptly, feeling the heat spread throughout your body.

— I'm not going to play your games, Alastor.

— Are you sure? —He smiled, showing his sharp teeth.— Because I think, deep down, you're dying to play.

Before you could reply, his hand slid down your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you with an intensity that took you by surprise. His lips were soft but firm, and his tongue explored your mouth with a boldness that made you shiver.

You resisted at first, determined not to give in to his control. But as the kiss deepened, you felt your defenses begin to crumble. His taste was intoxicating, a mixture of sin and danger that drew you into an unknown abyss.

His hands moved down your back, tracing every curve and contour of your body. You moaned into his mouth, unable to control your body's involuntary response.

For an instant, you forgot your anger, your fear, your distrust. There was only the desire, the need to be closer to him, to melt into his embrace and lose yourself in the darkness.

But then, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water. What were you doing? You were allowing Alastor to manipulate you, to use you as a mere tool in his power play.

With a superhuman effort, you pulled away from him, gasping for air.

— Stop — you said, your voice trembling, — I'm not going to do this.

Alastor looked at you with an indecipherable expression, his dark eyes hiding his true thoughts.

— Why not? — He asked, his tone soft in contrast to the intensity of the moment before.

A small spark of fire and frustration settled in his crimson eyes, his state was no better than yours, and yet....

You refused to answer. Instead, you pushed him aside and backed away from the door, determined to put distance between the two of you.

Instead of allowing you to escape, Alastor smiled with playful mischief. In an instant, shadowy tentacles sprouted from the floor and walls, surrounding you like a dark, throbbing prison.

You found yourself cornered, your back pressed against Alastor's chest, his warm breath brushing against your neck.

— Did you think I would let you go so easily, my dear? — he whispered in your ear, his voice charged with an intensity that made you tremble. — From the moment I saw you walk into this hotel. Something about you... something drew me like a moth to a flame.

Your words were sweet poison, a promise of ecstasy and doom. The shadowy tentacles slithered over your body with deliberate slowness, exploring every curve and nook and cranny with eerie precision. You felt a shiver run down your spine as the tips of the tentacles caressed your skin, awakening sensations you thought you had buried long ago.

— No one. — Alastor continued, his voice husky and full of possessive longing.— not even you, will take from me what is mine. You brought this on me from the first moment.

Your gasps grew louder, choppy, as the tentacles traced circles around your nipples, tightening them with each rub. An involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you felt Alastor's smile widen against your shoulder.

— Yes, my dear, that's it — he murmured, his hot breath echoing in your ear. — Surrender, just like that, my precious.

Your legs trembled, unable to support your weight as desire consumed you. The fury and fear faded, replaced by a primal need, an urge to give yourself completely to the darkness that enveloped you.

As Alastor played with you, you found yourself in a feverish state, caught between the need to resist and the overwhelming tide of pleasure. You tried to speak, to demand that he leave you alone, but the words stuck in your throat, choked by the gasps and moans that escaped your lips uncontrollably.

— Let me... please...— you managed to whisper, but your voice sounded weak and shaky, lacking conviction.

The pleasure was too intense, clouding your judgment and breaking down your defenses. Against your will, you began to move your hips, desperately seeking friction against Alastor's clothed erection. It was a silent plea, a tacit surrender to the desires that consumed you.

Alastor responded to your movement with a triumphant smile. He pulled you even tighter against him, imprisoning you between his body and shadowy tentacles.

— Fuck, you sure are a dirty cock warmer.— he whispered in your ear, his voice husky and full of desire.

His tongue slid over your neck, exploring every inch of skin with torturous slowness. A shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and you closed your eyes, abandoning yourself completely to the sensation.

— More... please, more... —you begged, your words barely audible between your gasps.

Alastor reveled in your submission, intensifying his assault. His hands slid beneath your clothing, caressing your skin with a softness that contrasted with the hardness of his erection pressed against your ass. The shadowy tentacles moved in sync, massaging your breasts and thighs with expert precision.

You writhed in his arms, moaning and sighing as pleasure swept you into an abyss of sensation.

You were no longer able to think, to resist, to fight. There was only desire, the need for more, the total surrender to the impulses that dominated you.

In the state of fervor in which you both found yourselves, Alastor slid his hands between your breasts, squeezing one of them in his path, then traveled to your waist, until he reached the coveted spot. Feeling you tense, he recognized that he was needier than ever, harder than a rock.

— Beg for me, now —he demanded, his voice turning into a guttural growl.

You only nodded, your mind clouded with desire. Alastor turned you to face him, his red eyes glowing with an almost unearthly intensity.

He began to whisper words full of obscenity, sexual nicknames that, though racy, retained the elegance and twisted charm that characterized him.

— Tell me, my naughty delight, how much do you want this, mmh? How much do you want this demon who has you trembling in his clutches? You are my "little doll", my little dear.— You looked at him lost, recognizing that you were hotter than ever in your life or death.

His closeness, his voice, his hands on your body, all contributed to a storm of sensations that threatened to consume you completely.

— Say it. — Alastor insisted, his hot breath brushing your lips.—Tell me you need me.— He growled with absolute demand.

— I need you.— you whispered, the truth escaping your lips unfiltered.

Hearing your confession, Alastor smiled with predatory satisfaction. The shadowy tentacles disappeared in an instant, replaced by his arms that wrapped tightly around you, pulling you tight against his body. The closeness was suffocating, but at the same time, strangely comforting.

The bed was very convenient at the moment, and Alastor didn't miss the opportunity.

He lifted you in his arms and carried you between sloppy kisses to the soft mattress. You fell onto the sheets, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as Alastor pounced on you, never breaking the contact of his lips with yours.

You had almost no clothes on anymore, just a rustle of fabric barely covering your nakedness. Alastor, on the other hand, was still clothed, a frustrating barrier between your desire and the consummation of the act.

Desperate, you tried to remove his jacket, but he grasped both your hands with surprising strength, pinning you under his weight.

— Be patient, my little temptress. —he said, his voice husky and full of anticipation. —There is an art in waiting, a pleasure in torture.

He kissed you more intensely, sucking on your lower lip with a possessiveness that made you moan. Then, with exasperating slowness, he began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing his chest full of marks and a fur that aroused in you an eagerness to caress.

— Do you like what you see? — he asked, with an arrogant smile.

You nodded, unable to articulate a word. Alastor took off his jacket, dropping it on the floor with disdain. Then, he unbuttoned his dress pants, releasing his erection that pulsed impatiently beneath the fabric.

With a look that promised paradise and doom, Alastor grabbed your legs with his free hand, lifting them up to place you in a vulnerable, submissive position.

He lined up his erection at your entrance, feeling the heat and wetness that awaited him.

And then, in one particularly rough lunge, he began.

A lascivious scream escaped your lips, a primal, savage sound that echoed through the room, filling it with the promise of pleasure and despair. Pain mingled with ecstasy, creating a symphony of sensations that snatched your control and plunged you into an abyss of lust.

The way Alastor began to move, without giving you a single respite, just ripped the air out of you. You moaned meaningless phrases, incoherent words that expressed the maelstrom of sensations that invaded you.

You felt Alastor deliver thrust after thrust, each one rougher and deeper than the last, pushing you to the limit of your endurance.

He, meanwhile, grunted and emitted messy static throughout the room, a distorted echo of his arousal mingling with the obscene sounds of clashing skins and your occasional moans. Every time Alastor touched that vulnerable spot in you, he made you see stars, a burst of light and pleasure that took your breath away.

—You're mine, understand? — Alastor growled through his teeth, his voice harsh and possessive. — Completely mine.

—Yes... yours, ah!... more...— you gasped, your body responding to his dominance with desperate need.

— Look my eyes. — he commanded, stopping his movements for a moment.— Tell me how much you want me.

You looked up, meeting his red eyes that burned with an almost demonic intensity. At that moment, there was nothing but Alastor and the insatiable desire that united you.

— I want you, Alastor. — you confessed, your voice trembling. — I want you more than anything in this damned hell.

Alastor smiled, a wild, triumphant expression that made you shudder. He resumed his onslaught with renewed fury, bringing you to the brink of collapse.

— I will make you cry out my name, my sweet torment. — He promised, his voice a hoarse whisper in your ear. — I'm going to make you beg for me.

With the intensity of the moment, Alastor felt you on the verge of climax, and you felt it too. The tension in both of you was about to explode, and all the while, you were screaming Alastor's name in a mess of pleading.

— Alastor! Ah, Alastor! Please, Alastor! —you cried, your voice cracking with pleasure.

Meanwhile, he was transforming back into his demonic form a little, with dark eyes and dials that stood out against his pale skin. Seeing him in that state, feeling his onslaught, you couldn't help but think out loud and exclaim in a broken voice and a moan.

— I love those eyes... like that... so beautiful... — You gasped looking at him with intensity.

Alastor paused for a second, his body tense over yours. His smile widened, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

— Damn, you are divine...—He answered with his voice full of static, which caused a slight tremor in your chest. You groaned as you listened to him and your gaze only confirmed that he looked absolutely perfect.

He then resumed his thrusts even deeper, so intense that you were now a bundle of screaming pleasure as you trembled uncontrollably. Your orgasm erupted violently, your body responding to his assault, and a silent scream formed, your hands clenching strands of his hair, trying to hold on to something as the aftershocks of climax wiped out your sanity.

And still Alastor whispered obscene words in your ear, fueling your arousal and prolonging your agony.

— You're a pervert, you know that? —he gasped, his hot breath brushing against your neck, feeling you tighten around him.— A little devil that drives me crazy.

And he was so close to cumming too.

With each thrust, the tension in his body increased until, finally, he came, cumming inside you, painting your walls with his seed.

And with two final gentle lunges, he pulled you close to him in a messy kiss, his salty, heady taste flooding your mouth.

Once he was finished inside you, he was satisfied to see his work. Your body trembled beneath his, exhausted but sated. Your eyes were glassy, your breathing agitated, and a faint expression was plastered on your face.

Alastor slowly pulled away, watching you with a possessive gaze.

You, you simply looked at him, utterly exhausted.

— Well? —Alastor's voice echoed with that peculiar mixture of amusement and latent menace, as he arched an eyebrow in your direction. His gaze remained fixed on you, expectant, insistent... and fucking annoyed.

You tried to deflect the conversation, as if ignoring his scrutiny was enough to dispel the discomfort settling in your chest. But patience wasn't exactly one of your virtues.

You took in a good amount of air, feeling the weight of his expectation build in your chest. You knew you couldn't evade the question much longer, but you didn't want to give him too many details either. After all, how would you explain everything that had happened without revealing parts of yourself that you preferred to keep hidden?

—Well... you see...—You paused fleetingly, choosing your words cautiously.— One of those guys you gutted tonight practically expected me to fuck with him. I refused and ran away, that's all.

The way you said it was deliberately brief, as if by reducing it to a couple of sentences you could downplay its importance. But you couldn't fool yourself. Least of all him.

Of course, you left out some details.

Like the fact that you had been playing with that demon for weeks, taking advantage of his inflated ego and his utter stupidity to extract as much money as possible from him. Fake smiles, sugar-coated words, veiled promises... everything in order to cajole him. In the end, the idiot thought he owned you, that he could take you whenever he wanted.

How pathetic.

Running away was the only option... well, running away after emptying his pocket one last time.

But fuck with him... that was never going to happen. Not with that disgusting piece of amorphous flesh, with his rotting breath and his raspy voice drooling orders as if you were his.

No, that privilege was exclusive to someone else.

Shit.

You shuddered at the mere thought.

Alastor, this fucking demon did manage to provoke something completely different in you. And that was dangerous.

You realized you sounded evasive, and by the way Alastor tilted his head slightly, you knew he'd noticed it too. His smile, that smile that always seemed on the verge of mockery, widened just barely, as if he was enjoying your discomfort.

— That's it, huh? — he repeated, his voice soft but with a tone that made you feel as if he was unraveling your every word. — Curious. Because, my dear, you don't sound very convinced of your own story.

— I don't know what you're talking about — you lied, averting your gaze to the window. The night was quiet, but your mind was not. — It was exactly as I told you. That's all there is to say.

— Do not worry, my little darling... —Alastor's voice slid like a shiver across your skin, vibrant, permeated with that static that seemed to seep into every corner of the air.—I will know exactly what keys to play for that answer... I will know....

Your body was still trembling, from their recent encounter. The intensity in your eyes, that bright red glint that devoured the gloom, the way your smile stretched with an almost playful malevolence....

The room spun slightly, or perhaps it was you who let yourself be swept away, caught in the hypnotic sway of her presence.

One more time.

Another round.

Your skin burned where his hands had already traced their path, and his mere nearness electrified every nerve. His laughter seeped into your ear, vibrating, accompanied by an insistent hum that entangled your thoughts in a sea of static and desire.

Of course, you weren't going to sleep through the night.

Not when he had every intention of making sure of it.

[hyorijie]

"VivziePop highlighted Alastor's duality as a character and described him as being the type of person to own two homes, one a fancy townhouse, the other a rickety hunting lodge in a bayou on stilts." This is from the wiki and I have been thinking about it concerning who Alastor is on the show.

You can see the most obvious show of this duality in his room. The room moves from a rather tasteful room to a bayou where he apparently prefers to eat. There is a combination of civilization and wildness. There is the duality of how Alastor can go from seemingly harmless to a literal monster. He is as close to his human side as he is to his animal side.

The duality of being both predator and prey is something that I feel needs its own post to explore but the best example I can think of for creatures that exist with this duality are cats and how they are predators but also constantly worry that other creatures around them are going to hurt them. The duality of pride and fear can even be seen in this. Cats are known for their pride, but a lot of things scare them.

The duality in how he treats those he owns. We have seen Alastor's relationship with 2 of the souls he owns. Alastor is abusive to Husk while he treats Niffty with care. He drags Husk by his chain for disrespect but lets Niffty put a roach crown on his head and call him the roach king. Someone actually pointed out to me that Alastor is the only person at the hotel who treats Niffty like a person. The difference in his treatment of them is so great that some people started theorising that he doesn't own Niffty. However, it is just more of the duality in his nature. His capacity for kindness exists beside his capacity for cruelty.

Vivzie said that Alastor was a chaotic neutral character but also admitted that she wasn't familiar with the terms. She might have been referring to his dual nature and his existence as both good and evil with no idea which version of him you will get. It could also turn out that he is the type to do good for evil reasons and evil for good reasons.

Alastor is the type of character that is best understood when you understand that he is a character that is meant to hold contradicting traits. When only one side of the character is considered, much of the character's depth is lost.

[hyorijie]

I love it 😭❤️

2025 valentine outfit.. oh my god 😭😭😭😭

[hyorijie]

Had fun drawing this Alastor commission for Etrnlsffrng on twitter doing what he does best. Researching old mics was fun! XD

[hyorijie]

A deal with the devil has never been so tempting...

Shadows dance to the beat of melodic laughter, and in the air floats the scent of danger wrapped in sweet promises. Alastor, the charismatic and enigmatic radio demon, has set his sights on you, and when he wants to play, there is no escape.

Four days. Four encounters. Four opportunities to fall into temptation. This Valentine's Day, Alastor has decided to play with you.

This Valentine's Day, the rules of desire change, do you dare to tune in to his frequency?

Special list

Little Dear | Alastor x F!Reader Publication date: 11.02.2025 Fleeing a fate worse than damnation, your footsteps lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, the most ridiculed place in all of Hell. You couldn't have come at a worse time Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader Publication date: 12.02.2025 Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

Sorry, I fucked your wife. | Alastor x F!Reader Publication date: 13.02.2025 Alastor has always been a demon of unpredictable whims, but this time... his interest has gone too far. A beautiful doe has completely captured his attention, there's just one small catch: she's married. Of course, that would be a problem... if Alastor cared. Candy | Alastor x F!Reader Publication date: 14.02.2025 You had prepared a small feast especially for Alastor. The table was laden with sour candy, fresh fruit, strawberries and cream, chocolates and, of course, his favorite dish. Every detail was carefully planned in the hope of culminating the evening in a passionate and unforgettable ardent session.

[hyorijie]

No Smile | Alastor x Reader

Tags jealousy, established friendship, a not-so-platonic platonic relationship, Alastor loses patience, gaslighting, disbelief, Alastor being him.

Summary You simply watch as Alastor stops smiling.

N: Happy New Year, very, very, very, late, work has really consumed me. But I really hope the whole community can continue to prosper this year. I still have orders pending and of course I will fulfill them, orders are gladly open. Goodbye ♡

Alastor never stops smiling. His mouth always curves in a fixed and sinister smile, a perpetual gesture that seems sculpted in marble. That expression, as constant as the dawn and as haunting as the darkest night, has become an immutable law of your universe. Alastor's smile does not change, does not waver, does not break.

Until now.

It was a flicker, a brief instant, just long enough for your heart to violently flip in your chest. His smile-that eternal symbol of his twisted joy-crumbled. His lips relaxed, revealing something more disturbing than any macabre smile: vulnerability.

The motive was clear in the way his gaze drifted to you, watching you lean toward another, a hearty laugh escaping your lips. The conversation was innocent, devoid of any intent beyond politeness; yet in those red eyes a corrosive fire was lit. Jealousy coiled around Alastor like invisible snakes, squeezing until it left invisible marks on his soul.

But the real trap was your own disbelief. Seeing him without his smile, you felt the ground beneath your feet vanish. You closed your eyes for a second, searching your mind for a logical explanation, an argument that would dismiss the scene as a passing illusion.

And when you opened them, he had already regained his facade. The smile had returned, sharpened and entrenched with a renewed intensity, as if daring you to doubt what you had witnessed.

But nothing could hide the truth that pulsed in his eyes.

Those red orbs, normally dancing with cruel amusement, were now dark abysses, where fury and unease vied for control. Tension radiated from him like the heat of a fire hidden under the skin, about to consume and consume everything around him.

You realize, with a shudder, that his smile is not the strength it appears to be, but a mask to hide the storm boiling inside him. If that mask were to fall completely, not even hell itself would be refuge enough to escape what Alastor could unleash.

The world stopped.

It wasn't an illusion, it wasn't your imagination playing tricks on you. You saw it with your own eyes. For the first time in what seemed like an unbreakable law of the universe, Alastor's smile faded.

His mouth, always curved in that mocking, unchanging gesture, relaxed. His face, normally sculpted into a grimace of sinister mirth, was stripped of its usual mask. And in its place... a void. An abyss of pure, dangerous emotion.

The air felt thicker, heavy on your lungs, as if hell itself was holding its breath.

You closed your eyes for a second, convinced you were hallucinating. But when you opened them again, there he was, standing in front of you, his grin wide and sharp as a freshly sharpened razor.

As if nothing had happened.

No. No. No. No.

— Wait... No. — You blinked, your mind struggling to process what you had just witnessed. — You, you just... what was that?

Alastor cocked his head to one side, eyes sparkling with a playful glint.

— What was what, my dear? — He replied.

— Your smile. — Your own voice sounded strange in your ears, a murmur laden with disbelief. — It... was... gone.

Alastor's laughter erupted like dry thunder.

— Oh, my dear, are you insinuating that my lovely, charming smile is gone? — He snorted exaggeratedly as He folded one of him hands towards him in a quick gesture — What a naughty imagination of yours!

No. It couldn't be. You hadn't imagined it.

— I'm not crazy, Alastor. — You stared at him, looking for some trace of the crack you had seen in his facade. But there he was, with the same expression as always, mocking, amused, as if the whole conversation were a private joke.

— Of course you're not! Although, if you were, would you really know? — His laughter was light, melodious, but there was something... something in his eyes that didn't fit. A tension, a barely perceptible shadow behind the mask.

— Don't play games with me. — you frowned, and crossing your arms. — I saw it. Even if it was only for a second, I saw it.

Alastor sighed dramatically and put a hand to his chest.

— Oh, what a tragedy! My own friend doubting me, my poor heart is broken! — He blurted, as static flew swiftly through the air.

— Alastor. — You retorted.

His grin widened, fangs peeking out in a sharp glint.

— Yes! — He replied sweetly and effusively.

— Just...tell me. — You demanded quickly.

— Tell you what?

— That I didn't imagine it.

The demon bowed his head slightly, watching you with an almost feline curiosity. Then, with a light step, he approached, bowing just enough to be at your level.

His voice descended to a whisper, almost intimate, but the edge in his tone was impossible to ignore.

— If it were true... if I really lost my smile.... — Him eyes glowed, red as embers under the shadows. — Then what do you think would happen?

The air froze in your lungs.And, for some reason, you knew that was a question you never wanted to answer.

Oh, Fuck.

_________________________________________

[hyorijie]

Just saw someone on Reddit ask if Vaggie technically could have killed Alastor here and people were arguing that she could have killed him. I am sorry but in what dimension was it possible she could have killed him here with her spear. Do they think that he would just let her stab him? Has she proven herself to be fast in a way that he couldn't dodge her attempts to stab him? Then when people tried to bring up that Alastor survived a fight with Adam. There were attempts to water that down with Adam wasn't taking it seriously and only grazed him.

What? Does that look like a graze to you? The guy was hit hard enough to get sent flying and you want to dismiss it as a graze. Look at the blood on the blade. Does that look like something that barely touched him?

Then you had people claiming that those who were saying that Vaggie can't beat Alastor were Alastor glazers. It is not about being a glazer. It is about how some people's hatred of a character makes them blind to the accomplishments of the character. He might have lost to Adam but before that happened he proved himself to be a decent close-range fighter. He did better at his fight than Charlie did and she is the second most powerful person in hell. He also killed several exorcists using a shield and some angelic weapons, helping to reduce the number of combatants that the others had to fight against. It is like as soon as he lost to Adam, in the weirdest case of recency bias, everything he did before that point was forgotten to the point that we are now having arguments about whether Vaggie could beat him with just her spear before she even got training from Camilla.

[hyorijie]

Dear gift | Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags

Alastor being a jerk, Christmas Eve, making fun of you, Alastor doesn't apologize, Reader is really furious, surprise gift.

Summary

Alastor would cross the limits of your patience by messing up the one artifact that kept you truly sane in the hellish chaos of your eternal damnation.

Furious and with your sanity hanging by a thread you throw him away from your presence, however he would give you a surprise something... impossible to believe.

After an exhausting day decorating the hotel, you finally managed to escape to the quiet of your room. You didn't expect that recommending you as a Christmas decorating helper would keep you busy for so many hours, but Charlie's energy and enthusiasm were impossible to ignore. Now, as you closed the door behind you, exhaustion was building in your shoulders, and a heavy sigh escaped your lips. You had earned this small moment of peace, and you didn't plan to waste it.

You lay back on the bed, letting the mattress envelop you with its familiarity. You stared at the ceiling, your thoughts wandering in a back-and-forth between the bustle of the day and the comfort of the present. It was then that something crossed your mind, something that had taken a backseat amidst the chaos of the decorations: the new artifact you had obtained.

With renewed momentum, you got out of bed and crossed the room to your dresser. There it was, just as you had left it. A flash of excitement lit up your face as your fingers glided over the smooth surface of the small player. Its sleek, minimalist design made you feel as if you were holding a fragment of your past life, a reminder of the technology you had cherished so much on Earth.

You opened it carefully, admiring the details and precision of its manufacture. Nostalgia settled in your chest, warm and comforting. After a few seconds of scanning, you rushed to pair it with your phone, feeling strangely excited about what was about to happen. Connectivity was surprisingly fast, and soon, the room was filled with a melody you recognized instantly.

The music flowed with astonishing clarity, so clear that it seemed impossible that it was coming from this corner of hell. You closed your eyes, allowing the notes to transport you to another time, another place. Images of your life on Earth paraded through your mind: happy moments, more difficult ones, but all tinged with a sense of belonging that you thought was lost. Without realizing it, you smiled, letting the music envelop you.

You were so immersed in the melody that you didn't notice it at first. A soft rustling sound broke the air, barely audible, but peculiar enough to open your eyes. You froze for a moment, hoping it was a figment of your imagination, but then came a sound you knew all too well: a low, mocking laugh that reverberated like an echo in your room.

You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The energy that filled the room, that peculiar magnetism accompanied by a faint hint of static, gave it away. Still, you let out a sigh, more exasperated than surprised.

— I knew this was too good to last —you muttered under your breath, though your comment was clearly directed at the intruder.

— Well, well...— he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he took a step toward you.— It seems that someone is indulging in artifacts of... dubious provenance? Not from Voxtek, that despicable creation of my dear enemy? What would you think if I told you that this might be more dangerous than you think?

As you opened your eyes and slowly turned around, there he was, leaning confidently against the door frame, his trademark grin stretching from ear to ear. Alastor was staring at the player as if it were an object out of place, something that shouldn't exist. His gaze exuded curiosity, disdain and, of course, that unsettling touch of amusement that always seemed to accompany it.

You sit up, hugging the player as if to protect it from his comments.

— Don't start, Alastor. It's just music, not a lethal weapon. —you reply, rolling your eyes.

— Oh, my dear — he said with a chuckle that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up —everything that comes from Vox is a weapon, whether physical or psychological. And you, so naive, here you are enjoying it as if it were nothing.

Before you could respond, a flash of his green magic sparkled in the air, and in the blink of an eye, the player floated from your hands. You jerked up, alarmed, but it was too late. Alastor's grin widened just as the small device exploded in a burst of smoke and sparks.

— Alastor! —you shouted, indignantly, as the smell of burning permeated the air.

He simply shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence.

— Oh, my, how clumsy of me. My magic must have been out of control. What a tragedy, isn't it?

You clenched your fists, feeling anger boil in your chest. — You're a fucking lunatic! —you snapped, pointing at the remains of the player. You had no right!

Alastor bowed his head, his smile losing some of its amusement to become something more dangerous.

— I did it for your sake. That artifact was an unnecessary distraction... and a risk, considering who makes it.

—That wasn't your decision! —You retorted, taking a step towards him, furious. — I'm not one of your puppets, Alastor. You can't control me like everyone else.

For a moment, his smile faded, and something shone in his eyes that you couldn't identify. Then, in one fluid motion, he leaned toward you, standing close enough that you could feel the static in the air. His voice descended to a deep, menacing whisper.

— I may not be able to control you, but I can protect you. Even if that means protecting you from yourself.

You didn't know what to say in response. Its proximity was overwhelming, its intensity crushing. But you refused to back down, even as you felt your heart pounding. You stared at him, your eyes challenging his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Finally, Alastor straightened, the smile returning to his lips.

— Consider this a lesson, my dear. All that glitters is not gold... nor all that sings, music. — With that, he spun on his heel and disappeared in a flash of static.

You stood alone in your room, the remains of the player strewn at your feet, feeling a mixture of anger, frustration... and something else you didn't want to admit. But one thing was certain: you didn't plan to let this confrontation end here.

...

The incident with the player was still fresh in your memory, like a puncture wound that had not yet healed. Less than 24 hours had passed, but the pent-up rage in your chest remained latent, burning beneath the surface. You had tried to reason it out, to find a justification for Alastor's absurd reaction, but nothing could calm your frustration.

It was clear that this maniac did not understand the existence of limits, or perhaps he simply refused to respect them. What exasperated you most was that, before you could even explain to him that the device was specifically modified to block any attempt at Vox espionage, he had already reduced it to a pile of smoldering junk. And now, every time you remembered it, a new surge of fury came over you, along with a fleeting desire to rip off one of those deer ears as punishment.

Of course, you knew that would only happen in your imagination. Instead of losing yourself in vengeful fantasies, you promise yourself that you would ignore it completely. It was a small punishment, but symbolic enough to perhaps make you understand that you had crossed a line.

So there you were, sitting at the lobby bar, sharing light conversation with Angel Dust and Husk. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time all day, you felt something akin to calm. Angel was in his typical over-the-top mode, dramatizing some recent gossip, while Husk grumbled in the background and poured himself another drink. The dynamic was simple and comfortable, just what you needed to distract you.

But then you felt it.

A slight vibration in the air, like a flash of static electricity running across your skin. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The familiarity of that presence, its distinctive energy, was unmistakable. Alastor had arrived.

His arrival was, as always, theatrical. A shadow snaked across the floor to position itself behind you, followed by the characteristic crackle of static. Even without looking at him, you could feel his attention focused on you, that piercing gaze that seemed to pierce anyone with a mixture of amusement and menace.

However, you weren't going to give it to them that easy. You had made a decision, and you planned to stick to it. You pretended not to notice his presence, even as Angel Dust abruptly stopped speaking, his eyes flickering with surprise at seeing the demon so close to you.

— Well, well... What now? — Angel muttered, clearly interested in what was about to happen.

You, on the other hand, just took the last sip of your drink. You felt the warmth of the liquor slide down your throat as you set the glass down on the bar with deliberate calm. This was no time to hesitate.

Without turning, you rose from your chair with a confidence that would almost surprise yourself. You could feel Alastor still watching you, his attention intensifying with each step you took. Angel Dust tried to fill the awkward silence with a mocking comment, but you didn't even get to hear it.

The only thing you did was to raise a hand, with a gesture that left no room for misinterpretation: your middle finger pointing clearly in the direction where you knew Alastor was. All without turning an inch, remaining completely oblivious to his presence, as if he deserved nothing more than that gesture of disdain.

The silence that fell in the hall was almost deafening. You could feel Husk slowly put his glass down, and Angel Dust's jaw almost touched the floor. Neither of them dared say a word, their eyes alternating between you and Alastor.

You, for your part, continue on your way to the exit without looking back, though you could well imagine the demon's expression behind you. It was rare that he didn't intervene immediately, and that gave you a small spark of satisfaction.

Let him stand there with his broken smile and bruised ego , you thought with a flash of pride as you walked away.

Perhaps you did not have the satisfaction of witnessing it, but behind you, in the center of the hall, Alastor's eye began to wobble in a nervous and violent twitch, barely perceptible to anyone who did not know him.

Without a word, Alastor let out an inaudible sigh, a vain attempt to release the tension that was beginning to form in his shoulders. His gaze drifted momentarily to Angel and Husk, who were still transfixed, eyes wide and lips parted, too shocked by what they had just witnessed. Angel, in particular, seemed to be processing the scene with visible effort, as if he couldn't decide if he should laugh, make a comment, or just run away before the tension erupted.

Alastor gave them no such treat. Without a word, and without allowing his emotions to seep past that lingering twitch in his eye, he vanished into the shadows abruptly, almost aggressively.

Christmas Eve came earlier than you would have liked. Although the hotel decorations had turned out spectacular, thanks in large part to your help, the holiday itself brought mixed feelings. Charlie had organized a simple, personal gift exchange, handing out carefully selected gifts to each resident.

When it was your turn, you opened your gift and found a beautiful necklace. The chain was thin but sturdy, with a delicate pendant that seemed to sparkle even in the dim light of the hallway. You admired it for a few moments before thanking Charlie with a genuine smile. The princess, always attentive, returned you a warm look, happy that she had been right with her choice. All around you, laughter and murmurs of amazement filled the air as everyone admired the gifts they received.

However, despite the warmth of the celebration, something inside you didn't quite click. You couldn't stop your thoughts from going back to the player you had lost. It was more than just a device to you. It represented a tangible link to memories of your life on Earth, a connection to moments that now seemed more distant than ever. And Alastor, with his characteristic arrogance, had destroyed it without even allowing you to explain. Even amidst the laughter and joy of others, you felt an emptiness you could not ignore.

When you couldn't take it anymore, you decided to retire earlier than expected. You offered a quick excuse, something about being tired from the busy day, and slipped away from the hustle and bustle of the lobby. As you reach your room, you notice something strange. In front of your door, carefully placed on the floor, was a package wrapped in deep red paper, decorated with a perfectly tied golden bow.

You frowned, puzzled. It bore no card or sender, but there was something familiar about the way it was decorated. With a mixture of curiosity and caution, you bent down to pick it up, feeling the weight of the object in your hands. Once inside your room, you sat on the edge of the bed and began to unwrap it, fingers working carefully over the easily yielding paper.

What you found inside made the air clog your lungs. It was a music player, but not just any music player. This wasn't a modern Voxtek model; it was terrestrial, a classic model that you recognized instantly. Its design was timeless, with clean lines and details that made it unique. It seemed restored with almost obsessive care, every detail carefully adjusted. The screen glowed softly when you turned it on, and as soon as the music began to play, a nostalgic warmth enveloped you. The sound was crisp and warm, unlike anything you'd ever heard in Hell. It was like an echo from another time, one you thought was lost forever.

You didn't need clues to know who had left it. The decoration of the package, the precision with which the player had been restored... everything bore his unmistakable stamp. A soft, almost involuntary smile tugged at your lips as you ran your fingers over the smooth surface of the device. Alastor. In a strange and eccentric way, he had tried to redeem himself. Perhaps he would never admit it, but this gesture spoke more than any words he could ever utter.

You lay back on the bed, letting the music fill the room. You looked toward the window, wondering if he would be nearby, hiding in the shadows, watching as was typical of him. But you decide not to look for him. You knew that if he wanted to talk, he would do so in his own way and in his own time. For now, this gesture was enough. It represented more than any verbal apology could convey.

The music continued to flow, enveloping the space with a warmth that did not come from the sound alone. It was the warmth of knowing that, despite everything, Alastor had the ability to surprise you, to show that beneath his cloak of arrogance and cruelty, there was something more. A small glimmer of humanity that, though it rarely peeked through, was there.

You stood there, letting the music and the sense of redemption fill every corner of your room. Alastor could be many things: manipulative, self-centered, even terrifying. But at that moment, he wasn't as despicable as he liked to pretend.

Yes, he definitely wasn't as despicable after all.

[hyorijie]

[hyorijie]

He’s a red flag but red means good fortune and love in my culture 😘

[hyorijie]

SMILE, my dear!! 📻

[hyorijie]

🎵Smile my dear, your never full dressed without one 🎶

[hyorijie]

Dangerous | Alastor x HumanReader

Tags

Memories, tension, Alastor and Lector have a peculiar dynamic, established relationship (when lector is a sinner), wandering through the woods, imagine, nothing special.

Right now, sitting in a comfortable armchair, you were looking in the direction of the view of Alastor's room. A visual panorama as beautiful as it was intriguing, that was precisely what took you to distant memories, memories of a fragment of life in which he, the owner of your soul, was the protagonist.

That night, the fog had fallen thickly over the forest, covering everything with a cloak of mystery. The trees looked like elongated shadows twisting in the gloom, and the only sound was the crunch of your footsteps on the dry leaves. You were walking alone, something many would consider unwise, but you knew he would come. He always did, like a hunter drawn by the echo of your presence.A soft, mocking, dark laughter rose through the trees, and a shiver ran down your spine. Even without seeing it, you recognized Alastor's unmistakable tone.

— Alastor. —You said, even though you knew he probably wouldn't answer you right away. He liked to play games, to prolong the mystery, to let the tension build like a spider web in the air.

Suddenly, you felt his presence behind you, so close you could feel his breath brush against the skin of your neck. Your body tensed, but you didn't move. You knew that was precisely what he wanted: to see you uncomfortable, waiting for his next move.

— Aren't you afraid? —He murmured, his lips so close to your ear that you could barely concentrate on his words. — Most people would run at this point ... but not you.—

His voice was almost a whisper, a dark song that enveloped you. You didn't know how to explain it, but there was something about him that made you feel alive. You knew it wasn't right, that you shouldn't feel anything for someone like Alastor, someone who didn't know the boundaries of right or wrong, but you couldn't ignore how he made you feel when he was near either.

— You don't have to understand me. — you murmured, feeling a bravery you didn't know you had. — Just...stay. —

There was a silence, one that felt like an eternity, and then you heard a low, deep chuckle. Alastor stepped forward, placing himself in front of you, with that smile that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. His crimson eyes seemed to glow, as if they saw beyond your skin and uncovered your secrets.

— My brave little friend. — he whispered, reaching out a hand to your cheek, which he caressed with a gentleness almost unknown to him.—Don't you realize that you are as dangerous as I am?—

You caught yourself holding the gaze of those intense eyes, those that never showed pity or fear. Maybe you were right, maybe there was something dark about you, a shadow that only he could see.

— Dangerous? — you smiled, with a mixture of nervousness and boldness. — Or just interesting? —

Alastor's laughter echoed, a sound that filled the forest and almost made you forget the fear. — Both, mon cher...both. —

And, in that instant, you knew: you were lost, trapped in a game you wouldn't fully understand. But as long as he would stay with you in that infinite night, you didn't care.

Hi!

This is a small fragment that consumed my dream.

If you wish to place orders, they will be open for the time being. I also have a Marathon scheduled called:"Alastor loves to annoy the Vees. "