safination

[safination]

Say Amen (Saturday Night)- A Modern Human AU

Author's Note:

Hi everyone! This is the first time that I am posting one of my own works. I hope you enjoy it. I want to thank the wonderful @nyx-umbrakinesis and @safination for beta-reading this, and the VoxTek Server as a whole for inspiring me and encouraging me to share my stories with you all. For anyone who reads and enjoys this- I thank you as well.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers. Please, check them out if you haven't already- their banner and divider art is fantastic!

As a note: I do not own most of the characters within this story. Credit goes to Vivienne Midrano for creating Hazbin Hotel and its characters. Credit also goes to Brendan Urie and Panic! At the Disco for the name of the title, as well as the song used in the story.

CW: Non-consensual Drug Use

 “Come on Toots, it’s Girl’s Night! You, me, and Cherri finally have a night off at the same time, and you wanna spend it alone? The fuck is goin’ on with ya?” Angel Dust was both incredulous and a little concerned; Addie wasn’t one to cancel on Girl’s Night.

“I just-” Addie began, but was interrupted by an irritated Angel.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t try to give me some lame excuse about studying. I know your schedule. Spill it. What’s goin’ on?”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t feel like going out- to the club we work at, no less- just to have some strange guys grind on me or feel me up. The only good drinks at Valentino’s are the fruity ones anyway.” Addie casually filed her nails as she spoke, her cell phone against her ear. “Besides, Mimzy had me work last night at her Speakeasy and -despite what you think- those cabaret nights can get pretty wild. Still doesn’t beat our ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ routine, but-”

“Uh huh, yeah yeah. This…wouldn’t have anything to do with that one guy who frequents Mimzy’s joint, would it?” Angel’s voice took on a teasing edge. “The one you said was good with his tongue?”

Addie immediately felt her cheeks grow warm. In her shock, she dropped her nail file and sat up straight. “That’s not what I said! I said he had a way with words!”

“Yeah, exactly. You gotta be good with your tongue to be good at words.”

“In any case, what makes you think my refusal to go out has anything to do with him?” Addie replied in a forcibly cool tone. She loved Angel, she really did, but sometimes his word play really flustered her. He had a good heart, but his penchant for teasing her drove her nuts.

“Because you’ve been different ever since you started helping at Mimzy’s joint. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you had a crush on this guy.”

“Angel, it’s not that at all. It’s just-”

Angel’s voice became a falsetto as he spoke, “He’s a great conversationalist, he isn’t handsy with me, and the style he has. He wears sleeve garters, Angie! Sleeve. Garters!” His voice dropped to his typical range as he continued, “Yeah Toots, I know. I heard it before. Face it, you got a crush on him. And you know the rule: We don’t fall for clients.”

Addie felt her chest tighten at his words. Try as she might to deny it, she really couldn’t. The man in question was a regular at Mimzy’s Speakeasy, and the Communications Professor over at the local university, Mr. Alastor Moreau. Addie became the regular dancer at his table during the Cabaret Nights. She loved the fun of donning historical lingerie as she danced. He loved the top shelf rye whiskey and the live jazz band.

Normally, Addie wasn’t one to care about how a man looked. A client was a client, after all. But one would have to be pretty blind not to notice how attractive Mr. Moreau was. Tall and lean, he carried himself with a quietly dignified air. In all honesty, his frame could be described as ‘weak’ if one didn’t look closely. But she had looked closer. Dancing at his table, it was made apparent that anyone who thought this man to be an easy mark would be in for a rather rude awakening.

If his frame was easily disregarded, his countenance could not be. Tawny skin, fluffy espresso colored hair, and burnt sienna eyes hidden behind simple spectacles adorned a face that was made to smile. And oh, did he smile often. Straight, naturally white teeth made that face practically shine with joy. It made him approachable. And over time… it made her weak.

She wasn’t sure when it started, really. At first, it was mere pleasantries while she danced for him. But then he kept coming back. And soon, he was asking for her specifically. She discussed her studies at the local medical school, and he discussed his classes or his upcoming podcast episodes. And once she got him going, it seemed as though there was no end in sight. His jokes, his laughter- it was all contagious. And it had Addie spellbound in a way she had never expected. Angel was right; she was crushing hard.

“Uh, hello? You there, Toots?” Angel��s voice brought Addie back to the present.

“Oh, shit! Yeah, I’m here, Angie.” She sighed. This…infatuation… was going to drive her insane. “You know what? Fuck it. You’re right. I’ll go. We need to hang out, and I need to get- whatever this is- out of my system.”

“Fuck the hell yes! Meet up at my place in an hour to get ready. Bring the booze; we’re gonna pre-game! See ya later!”

The afternoon passed in a blur. By the time they had gotten to Valentino’s, Addie had a lovely buzz going. Trying to out-drink Angel may not have been the best choice while pregaming, but it did help her relax.

“Shit Angie, you were right. We needed this!” Addie yelled as she danced with Cherri and Angel. The colorful lights flashed as the loud music blared. She could feel the beat of the bass in her bones as they moved to the rhythm. It was liberating, until she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Turning over with an icy glare, her expression changed when she saw the club owner, Valentino. It wouldn’t do to be rude to her boss. He had a hell of a temper, but he paid well- if you brought in enough customers. They had been increasingly at odds as of late because Addie was steadily pulling away to meet the high demands of her studies. It did not help that the nights in which she could work was split between working at Valentino's, and performing at Mimzy’s Speakeasy. As far as Valentino was concerned, Mimzy’s was a rival club. And if there was one thing that Valentino was, it was possessive over what he deemed “his”.

“Ah, mi hermosa… Come with me, please.” He gestured with his hand as he was leaving the dance floor, heading to his office. Even without his body language, Addie knew an order when she heard one. Sighing, she began to follow him as she called out, “I’ll be back in a bit, guys. Keep dancing.”

It took everything in her not to crinkle her nose in distaste as Addie entered Valentino’s “office”. Such a loose term, really.  The largest piece of furniture- an old fuchsia sofa saturated with stains of God only knows what- sat against a window adorned with cheap plastic blinds that were badly bent or broken from abuse. A cloying smoke filled the space, adding a haze to the environment. And it did nothing to cover up the scent of stale sex. Gross.

“I brought you in here to…ask a bit of a favor from you, cariña. I have this…friend of mine. A politician. He’s visited here for a few nights in the past and saw you perform. He’s now asking for you specifically, and willing to pay top dollar for a show tonight.” Valentino rubbed his fingers together as he purred. “What do you say?”

“But it’s my night off-” Addie’s words froze in her throat. Too late, she realized that Valentino’s suggestion wasn’t a request. As if to drive that point home, he stomped over and grabbed her arms, brutally throwing her onto his sofa before she could even react.

“You’ve been neglecting me, Esmerelda.” Her stage name dripped from his lips in disdain as he backhanded her. Her cheek burned from the impact, but that was nothing compared to the ice that flowed in her veins when his hands worked around their way around her neck. “I let you pull away to spend your nights pouring over books to become some shitty doctor. I let you work at that outdated shitty Speakeasy instead of having you here, making me money. You forget cariña, I OWN YOU.” He squeezed his fingers around her windpipe, cutting off her air supply.

“If I say you’re working tonight, you say?” Valentino sneered.

“Yes…Valentino.” She choked the words; anything to appease him and get him off of her. Her head started to pound in time with her erratic heartbeat. Addie desperately grabbed at his arm to try to get him to let go.

“If I say you’re going to give this man the lap dance of a lifetime, you say?” His grip tightened further, and in the back of her mind, Addie worried that there might be bruises tomorrow. If I even live to see tomorrow.

“Yes… Valentino!” She felt the pounding in her head as he kept squeezing. Pregaming was a mistake. The choking, the alcohol, the smoke… it all worked together to make her lightheaded. Spots of black began to fill her vision as she desperately clung to her awareness.

It was over as suddenly as it began. Air rushed back into her lungs as Valentino released his hold upon her neck. Coughing, Addie slowly sat up, rubbing the skin in an effort to forget his touch. Her throat slightly ached as she took in a breath.

“Good. Now drink some of this-” he grabbed a shot glass and a decanter of clear liquid and handed it to her. “-And get ready. He will be sitting in the front, center stage. And I better hear about nothing less than a five-star performance.”

In an effort to further appease him, Addie downed the shot in one go, and began coughing again. It burned like hellfire and tasted bitter in the most wrong of ways, with a smokiness that left her wondering how someone managed to liquefy and bottle stale cigarettes. “Ugh! What is that?!”

“My finest tequila. To help you… loosen up. Now get out there, Esmerelda. And wear the schoolgirl outfit. He prefers that.”

[safination]

It izzzz what it izzz

the holy trinity: the father (fuck it we ball) the son (it is what it is) the holy spirit (to be cringe is to be free)

[safination]

MOUSE YAOI

MOUSE YAOI REAL

[safination]

Day 2 of ChaggieWeek2025!

The theme today is Beach!

And i would like to call this one:

BREAKING NEWS: PRINCESS CHARLOTTE MORNINGSTAR AND GIRLFRIEND VAGITHA ABANDONED THEIR CAT AT THE BEACH!

Btw please look at charlies hoof prints in the sand.

[safination]

It’s nothing special. I was way making my Ao3 account and didn’t know what to use so I just used part of my name Saf and nation. I added the i in Safi for fun

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

thank you @just-puddding for haunting me even on here.

i'm just a Mika Häkkinen fan and it's his nick name, I know technically it should be double n but I though this looks nicer so it stuck, also I suck at picking out user names so imagine my surprise when this wasn't taken.

tagging @usersewis and @dukesoakedoats

[safination]

I love the internet for bringing me so many friends

[safination]

[safination]

A Moment to Worship

|Masterlist| Pairing: Alastor x reader Warning/Tags: Making out, body worship, bottom! Alastor, biting A/N: Listen...Alastor. That's it. That's all I need to say. The valentines merch got me down bad fr fr fr fr.. Enjoy my offering to @voxtekinc for their weekly prompt. "I'm sorry. Did I ask for your opinion?" TLDR: Alastor received a pretty, new scar from his battle. As someone intimately familiar with every single expanse of his skin, you'll just have to introduce yoursel.

These soft lips of yours travel down the expanse of Alastor’s chest. Every breath you exhale warms his skin.  It’s been so long – too long – that no one should be able to fault you for taking a moment out of your night to enjoy yourself.

Some clumps of his fur tickle your cheek, but it’s a small price to pay, especially when you have Alastor smiling bellow you.

Your hands press on the bed, steadying you as you hover above, placing kiss after kiss on the line that scars his chest.

What a beautiful present to be left with. Maybe the First Man isn’t too bad. If he were still alive, you would personally thank him for leaving your such a pretty thing. But this tonight isn’t about Adam.

Association is a funny thing, and when you’re done with him, the only thing running through Alastor’s pretty, little head will be you.

Every time Alastor sees this scar, he will think of you. This long and jagged scar painting his chest will be filled with nothing but the memories of you, and only you.

Every line.

Every bump.

Every, single, scar.

You’ve dragged these lips of yours across each one, taking the moment to leave your memory and worship it like it deserves to be.

“You’re a little eager today, my dear.” There’s an amused smile on Alastor’s lips, but his muscles are relaxed underneath your touch. “Someone’s in a little bit of a rush.”

You trace a line across his shoulder, letting your claw go pass through the bumps in his skin. “It’s been a little busy in the hotel, and when the hotel is busy, you’re busy.” You press a kiss right above a little freckle of his. “Who knows when I’ll be disturbed.”

Alastor tils your chin, forcing you to face him. “Who would dare disturb me in the middle of our night.”

“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that.” You crawl up the bed, hovering above him as you connect your foreheads. “It’s getting tiring to have to fight for a moment of your time, cher.”

“And this is how you choose to spend it?”

You give him one last cheeky smile before resuming your ritual of pressing kisses down the expanse of his stomach. Alastor arches his back a little, curving it higher towards you when you run a hand across his waist. A happy sigh escapes as you enjoy the feeling of him.

His waist is smaller in this lifetime. It’s so small that even your hands could easily go across it. Nevertheless, the heat that comes out of his skin transfers to yours all the same.

You swipe your thumb across his navel, enjoying every bump in his skin

This new scar of his won’t be different from all the other scars. You just need to take the time to be intimate with it, just like you’ve done so with every, single, one.

The bed creaks when you shift towards the head of the bed. Alastor seems content to be underneath you, enjoying the attention you’re so willing to give him.

Alastor leans closer, smile wide as he whispers into your ear. “You’re taking your time, indeed.”

“It’s a long scar.”

“I think I’m being used.” Alastor leans up, capturing your lips for a brief kiss. “Making me lay beneath you as you have your fun.”

“That’s impossible, my dear,” you say, tilting his chin with the tips of your claw to expose his neck. The trail of kiss starst at his jaw, but they turn lower all the way into his neck. “As if you would ever allow yourself to be used.”

“In my opinion,” he says, smiling up at you, “this is what being used feels like.”

“I’m sorry.” You nibble on his neck, leaving a mark for tomorrow. “I’m terribly sorry.”

Alastor runs a claw into your hair, letting the strand run through his finger. “I’ll be gracious and forgive you this time.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, then bite down between the junction of his neck and shoulder, lapping up the marks you’re leaving with your tongue. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

Alastor’s smile widens, and thus, the worshiping continues.

[safination]

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?

Not only am I bottoming, but Im also in a tragic class difference. 😭

Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.

[safination]

Pasilyo has me in a chokehold. I might actually finally continue this. My sweet Harana, you will always be special to me.

For Your Heart

Part 1: The Beginning

|Masterlist| |Part 2: The Middle |

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Demon! Alastor, Husband! Alastor

Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing. TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)

I decided to make this into a four-part series instead or releasing it all at once. Just comment if you ever want to be added into a taglist for this mini-series I'm doing.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

The light of the moon shines past your curtained windows.

Tink…

…Tink.

…Tink…

TinkTinkTinkTinkTinkTink.

The sounds from your window catch your attention, each pebble that bounces off the glass beckons your attention. Cautiously, you barely part the curtains to peek out into the night.

Alastor throws another pebble at your window. Despite the darkness, his unmistakable brown hair blows from the prompting of the night air. Strands of hair poke his eyes, and he runs a hand to tuck them away. He bends down to pick up more pebbles, wiping the soil off his hand with his faded jeans.

There’s a guitar strapped around his chest. It’s smooth and dark wood shines against the night. Even with obvious dent marks indicating its age, it seems Alastor’s taken good care of this instrument. His fingers strum across the guitar strings as he produces cords for a mindless melody.

Finally, you part the curtains until your eyes catch his.

Alastor’s brown eyes light up brighter than the stars shining above, and he waves at you from the outside and then points at your window. There’s a boyish smile on his lips as he does.

The window unlocks, and fresh nighttime air blows cold into your bedroom. Still, you leave it open. “Hello, there.”

“Good evening to you as well.” Alastor chuckles, pushing his worn-out glasses up his nose. It slides back down his face just as fast.

“Whatever you’re about to do…do it quietly. My parents will hear us if you’re too loud,” you tell him, leaning your cheek on your palms. “Why are you even here, Alastor? It’s the middle of the night—you’ll catch a cold if you stay out for too long.”

“Ha!” Alastor barks out, laughing at you. It’s breathy and light, and the best thing you’ve heard all night. “Can I take that as admission for your concern for me?”

Your smile brightens a smidge. “Alastor, I’m worried about you.”

“…Oh…well…uh…Well, the gods have given us these things called ‘eyes’ and if you take a proper look at me, you’ll be able to see the guitar I’m holding.” Alastor drums his fingers on the word of the instrument as his eyes suddenly find the grains on the wood interesting. “I think you can deduce why I’m here.”

“You’ve come to play for me.”

“A good but simple observation, yet it’s not quite close enough.” Alastor raises the guitar above his head, that same wide and boyish smile on his lips. “I’ve come for your heart.”

“Alastor,” you say, a hint of warning in your tone, yet…you poke your head further out the window. “…my family.”

“Let them hear.”

It’s a silly, silly, boy who stands proudly underneath your window. It’s a silly, silly, boy who smiles at you with a guitar and overflowing confidence. It’s a silly, silly, boy who comes for your heart. Somehow, this doesn’t singe the heat tingling your cheeks, nor does it calm the flutter in your gut that threatens to spill out at any moment.

Quite the silly boy, indeed.

How lucky that you’re quite the ridiculous girl.

You lean against the windowsill, smiling down at him. The cool wind of the night breeze past your tingling cheeks, flush with the warmth Alastor placed. “Are you going to sing for me?”

“Well…,” he says, once again strumming the guitar to create a soft melody. “Are you going to listen to me?”

Yes.

“I should just close the window,” you say instead. “I’m positive the screeches will sound the same.”

Alastor twists his lips, points his nose into the air with a huff. Pebbles are halfheartedly cucked up at you. They sail into the air, and stay far away from actually hitting you. “That’s quite rude!”

“My apologies, then.”

“Listen to me?” Alastor readies the guitar, adjusting the straps that secure the guitar around his chest. The balls of his feet shift against the grass, and his smile wobbles for a fraction of a second. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“You’re going to sing…,” you say, taking in the words…the gesture he’s about to do. That smile on your face quirks even brighter, and the heat tingling your cheeks travel all the way up your ears. “…just for me?”

“Only for you.”

“Go on then—take my heart.” The words spill out quicker than you’d prefer, but Alastor smiles up at you and it strikes you like the most ridiculous school-girl. “I’ll listen. No matter how horribly it could grate my ears…I’ll listen to you.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and you know you did good.  His skillful fingers work across the strings of the guitar, each cord he plays creates a playful melody of sounds.

It’s weird…a sunset flashes through your mind…a train passes through the city, the window displaying a blur of buildings. Each jostle of the train bumps your shoulder to…to…Who do they bump against?

“It’s frustrating that you won’t believe my love for you. What else do I need to prove to you, my love.” Alastor sings to you with a steady voice but past the confidence, wisps of nervousness hide below his words.  “But I understand you’re just trying to avoid getting hurt, but you won’t lose out if you just say yes to me.”

The edge of your teeth catches on your cheek as you nibble on the skin, trying to prevent your smile from widening even further.

It’s an effort spent in vain. It’s impossible to repress this smile, not when his voice filters across the night air.  Each word he sings pokes your cheek higher and higher and higher until he’s painted a wide smile across your mouth.

“I’ll stand by you, oh yes. I’ll love you wholeheartedly.” Alastor’s fingers glide over the strings with masterful proficiency even as he bounces along to the melody. “Even as we grow old, I’ll be yours.”

Alastor glides over the strings of your heart. Each word strikes your soul, and you fall deeper and deeper and deeper into the promises he sings to you with unwavering confidence. The night air carries his voice across the open space and yet…despite the moon, you think of the sunset once more, its light shining against the brown strands of his hair.

Part of you wants to carve out your heart out of your chest and throw it at him, blood and all.

“I’ll stand by you, oh yes, despite what the chaotic world says. Even if they don’t want me to be yours, I will take care of you.”

His eyes flutter to a close as he presents his truth to you like a promise. There’s this selfish part of you that wants to demand him to open his eyes, to open those brown eyes that shine brighter than the stars themselves.

Oh, what a ridiculous girl, indeed.

“You make me feel giddy whenever you come near me, my love. All my confidence disappears no matter how hard I try to hide it.”

Finally, his eyes flutter open and they gaze up at you and only you. Alastor stares at you with a wide smile… and … and it’s as if you and him were the only people in this whole world. For a second, you believe you are because where there is him, there will be a you.

“Mm, the way you tolerate me when I’m about to burst. With all the noise around us, you are my silence.”

Deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper. You fall into the strings of Alastor’s guitar. Each word wraps the threads around your body, and each lively beat of his cords pulls you closer.

Once more, the image of the sunset passes through your mind. The passing view of the city buildings. The jostling of the trains. The shine of the remaining embers of the sun from the window. Shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow, the face next to you grows clearer.

“I’ll be with you even when surrounded by problems. In hardship and in ease, I’ll stand by you, my love.”  Alastor flashes you a smile as he sings, proud and unbothered underneath your window. “I’ll stand by you even though I know we will change, from the beginning to the end.”

Each word he sings wipes away the haze until the city buildings fade away, until the jostling of the train calms, and until the only thing you see is the way the sunset reflects against the brown in Alastor’s eyes.

“Since we’re already here…Let’s stand by each other.”

The song fades away, and it brings the sunset with it.

It’s only the moon that shines above you now. It’s only the fluttering of the leaves that pass through the scene. It’s only the steady floor of your bedroom. Yet, Alastor’s smile remains the same.

You can’t meet his eyes, not when he stares into you as if every word he sang was a vow—perhaps it was. How foul of him to come here in the middle of the night with a guitar and a song.

“My love…,” Alastor calls out for you and the way he does forces you to bury your face into your arms. How foul, indeed. “What do you think?”

“Can you climb up here?” you ask, barely peeking out from your arms. “Don’t come in…just… come closer and I’ll show you what I think.”

Alastor removes the straps of the guitar, and leans the instrument against the tree. He walks across the grass, and pulls on the drain pipe bolted on the wall, testing its weight. With a deep breath, he plants his shoes on a small crook and pulls himself up with his arms. When the bolt holds, Alastor climbs up until his head reaches your window. He slings an arm around the windowsill, smiling as he finally reaches your eyes.

You plant a hand on Alastor’s cheek. It’s cold. “Are you not freezing?”

“Not anymore,” he says, nuzzling into your palm. So, you let your hold linger to warm his skin. Each swipe of your thumb on his cheek prompts him to lean further into you.

Those worn-out glasses slide down his nose, and you pull them off Alastor’s face. You inch closer until your foreheads connect. The puffs of your breaths mix together when you brush your lips above Alastor. It tingles…the way the cracks on his mouth poke and press against you.

Finally, you steal a kiss from this silly, silly, boy. The warmth of your kiss transfers to his cold lips.

Alastor’s eyelashes are quite long, and this fact makes itself known to you when his eyes flutter to a close. They brush against you as lips press kiss after kiss after kiss. More facts make themselves known, like the way his nose pokes into you and how his lips are even more chapped than you expect. It only prompts you to deepen the kiss.

It’s you who pulls away first.

Alastor’s smile grows impossibly wide…yet, he’s blinking at you, lips slightly parted. The next kiss you press goes on his cheek, and his grip on the window slips. Alastor tumbles down to the soft grass of your parent’s lawn. He doesn’t try to stand, even as he lays sprawled out on the grass.

A hand presses his mouth, covering it slightly. Truly, he looks like a deer in headlights. “…oh.”

“Thank you for the song, Al…hmmm…. Actually, thank you for the song, my love,” you tell him, and begin to close your window. “Be careful on your way home. I expect you to keep your promises.”

The latch locks your window but still, you peek out your curtains.

Eventually, the silly, silly, boy springs up from the grass with an impossibly wide but happy smile. He grabs the guitar from the tree and pumps his fist into the air. And this ridiculous girl watches him walk away with the stupidest smile.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

The things I will do to have this deer man at my window with a guitar, roses, his closest friend, and faded jeans, and going, “Uso pa ba ang Harana?” Seriously think that all my problems would be solved if Alastor did this. Like guitar in hand and strumming as he sings, “Ano ba talaga mas gusto ko? Ang Beer na to o ang pagibig mo?” Listen, Alastor lived in New Orleans and s very into jazz and knows how to play instruments like piano and the saxophone. This is something he 100% would do. For my kabanayans, I’m releasing a version with the original lyrics because so much of it gets lost in translation and Ben&Ben did not give us masterpieces for this to happen. I’ve got to tell you, the original lyrics hit differently when you understand them hahaha. Please keep in mind that I'm not an expert translator, I just formed it in the way it makes sense to read. Sneak Peek of the next song: Araw-Araw Taglist: @rapturenyx @thehiddenvase, @kny-kween

[safination]

Listening to Pasilyo by SunKissed Lola. Will I finally finish my Alastor Harana series? It’s a waltz ballad with modern jazziness 😭😭😭

I needed this deer loser with a guitar yesterday.

[safination]

My Sweet Temptation

|Masterlist| |The Only Temptation| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, oral (f! receiving), fingering, scent kink, p in v, knotting, antlers, tails, dry humping, pwp, cum eating, feels, Alastor just really loves his wife not even the sweet allure of a doe in heat can stop him from being the biggest simp ever. [TLDR: It's been a month since he last saw you. With Alastor finally starting his rut, can he still keep resisting the temptation that is you?] A/N: Wowwie! This was supposed to come out for my birthday, but hey! At least it's here. Special thanks to @ladyadrasteia666. This one is for you because I wasn't able to tag you last time, but you really helped me with all the smut parts. So, thank you. Minors DNI

The doe is talking to him like they are friends. She’s a resident at the hotel Alastor currently works and lives in, nothing more. It’s that current hotel that’s keeping him from his wife.

One whole month – that’s how long it’s been since Alastor felt any trace of you.

The doe smells sweet, in the same way that powdered sugar smells sweet, but her scent prickles his nose in such a harsh way that he wonders how long he could hold his breath for. Pouring actual powdered sugar down his nostrils would be less irritating.

The waves of scent are just too much that it’s positively disgusting. Alastor would have already killed the doe had it not been for Charlie.

The mind . . . it’s a very fickle thing.

Except when it comes to you, it seems – it’s very generous when it comes to you.

As the doe babbles with utter nonsense, Alastor’s mind wanders back to you. It shows him instructions on how he should trail his lips down the skin of your stomach, feeling the heat from all the sensitive nerves on his lips. Alastor thinks about holding you closer until he can feel every inch of your skin.

This mind of his, tells him how exactly Alastor would crawl inside you, fulfilling that never-ending desire to feel you, and only you.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, Alastor’s nose twitches with the scent of you.

Alastor still cannot describe what exactly the scent of you even smells like. It just seems to be the scent of laughter as acid rain pours down the street.

It also seems to be the s cent of a smile as dinner is eaten under a candle-light. It’s all of these things and none of these things at the same time. It’s not enough to capture the full essence of you.

All Alastor knows is that it’s you. He turns behind him, ignoring the doe, just in time to spot you rounding the corner.

The smile on your lips grows the moment your eyes land on him. Alastor knows when it does, because he watches your lips inch higher and higher as your pace quickens.

You tilt your head, looking straight behind him. Now what would cause your attention to shift from him?

Alastor gets his answer because he knows the exact moment your eyes land to the doe behind him, and he has to watch as that once bright smile quickly drops into a polite one.

The closer you walk, the stronger the scent becomes. All these sudden waves of you almost leaves him dumb. The only thing flashing through his brain are the images of how shy you would look when he traces a path up your legs, only using the very tip of his finger to inch them apart.

The doe’s ears flick a little as she smiles. “Are you a new resident?”

“I wish that were the case.” You reach a hand towards the doe. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introd—”

Alastor catches your wrist, pulling your hand away before he could fully understand what he’s done. All he knows is that he cannot have this thing leave its filthy traces on you.

He slides his hand up the skin of your wrist, catching your fingers in his hold, and presses a small kiss between them. It’s not his proudest moment, but Alastor makes sure the doe sees exactly what he’s doing. “My wife.”

Deciding he’s had enough, Alastor doesn’t wait for a response, and crashes you into him, pulling you into the shadows below with a laugh.

Alastor can feel the way your fingers tighten around him, pulling him closer as you travel within the shadows. He holds you closer, reveling in the feeling of holding you until he’s popped into the bedroom, and crashing you into the mattress with tangled limbs.

The scent is even stronger now that he’s buried his face straight into your neck. It’s pulling him deeper into his mind.

You run a hand through the back of his head, scratching the scalp with the tips of your claws. Those heavenly fingers of yours trail higher until you’re tracing the outline of his antlers, and circle around the tip.

The pressure you place relieves the itching. You trail even lower this time, massaging the base of his antlers. This sends radio waves straight down, and out of his skin.

Your hand retreats when static glitches around the air.

“Don’t stop,” Alastor says . . . practically begging . . . and pushes his erection straight against the plump of your thigh. “Keep going. Cher, keep going.”

He presses his antlers closer to you, opening his neck as your tongue swipes one, long trail up the skin. “Alastor,” you say, whispering his name straight into his ear. Soft breaths tickle his ears, causing them to twitch a little. “Alastor . . . Talk to me.”

Alastor trails a finger down your cheek, tracing the outline, moving lower until his fingers swipe through your lips. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“I received a phone call today,” you tell him, closing your eyes as you nibble on his fingers a little. “Apparently, you’ve been quite . . . disagreeable this past month. Someone finally had enough.”

Alastor watches you swirl your tongue around the tip, before taking it deeper into your mouth. The outline of his erection bulges against his pants, pitching a very, very obvious tent.

Alastor should send you away before his instincts take over. He knows this. It’s the rational thing to do, but rational isn’t what he would describe himself right now. Especially, when your fingers curl around the back of his hair, cranking his neck upwards.

Rut or no rut, it’s just nice to be underneath your fingers again.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen a doe in Hell,” you say, voice a bit softer than normal. The outline of your nose traces his neck, and the soft huffs of your breath warm his neck. “If . . . If you . . . I would understand.”

This annoys him more than it should.

Alastor presses his claw a little harder on the skin of your cheek, swiping down just to scratch at the surface. “How cruel of you, cher.” His eyes twitch, smile curling a little higher. “You would be so willing to let another bed me?”

“It’s biology.” Your fingers tighten around his hair, tugging on his head to look at you. “I would understand that.”

Alastor presses his lips against yours, nibbling on the bottom until your mouth gives way for his tongue. The taste of your mouth is even sweeter than how you smell.

It’s driving him . . . insane. Pure madness that’s sinking its claws into him, and drags him deeper into its clutches. The thing is . . .  Alastor doesn’t want it to let go.

Consume him until there’s nothing left but you.

“Who do you think I am? I made a vow, cher, and I made that vow to you.” Alastor traces your jaw with his lips, and each word brushes against your skin. “All this time I’ve had to stop myself from devouring you, and here I learn you’re allowing such ridiculous ideas to run through your head.”

“Me?”

It’s more than a bit offensive to hear the surprise in your voice.

Alastor captures your lips once more, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss. “Who else except you?”

The scent of your . . . everything . . . envelopes him, consuming him deeper into his mind. You tighten your arms around him, and there’s nothing Alastor can do except melt into you.

The tips of your fingers trace up his spine, and back through his hair. Just a minute – that’s all he needs. A minute to memorize the sweet taste of your mouth. A minute to memorize the warmth of your fingers. A minute to memorize the scent of your skin. 

In a minute, Alastor will send you away one more. “I want to feel you.”

“I’m right here.” You laugh against his mouth, pressing one last kiss. 

“It’s not enough,” Alastor tells you, tracing your lips with his finger. “I want to be inside you.”

“You can if you want.”

“I want to open you,” he says, sighing against your skin. “I want to crawl inside until I can feel every inch of you surrounding me until all I can feel is you, and only you.”

You push him off your chest, using your hip to flip him on his back.

Alastor’s head hits the headboard just as your legs swing around his torso, and you sink your core straight above his cock. The pressure you’re sending into his cock forces a small breath tumbling out his lips.

The base of your hips leans into his dick when you shift forward to steal a kiss from him. Alastor melts into the kiss, unraveling underneath you with a moan.

“Will you finally let me help?” You run a sharp claw down his shirt, scratching at the buttons keeping him clothed.

“You can’t —”

Ypi grip his antler, yanking him to face you. The noise that comes out of his mouth embarrasses him a little, but you’re licking your lips, and Alastor knows you like what you heard.

“Tell me to go and I will, but I want to hear it directly from your mouth.” You stare directly into his eyes with a look so intense that it’s almost . . . dangerous. It’s intoxicating. “No more dancing around, Alastor. If you want me to go, you’ll have to send me away.”

The grip on his antlers tightens, and the pressure you’re pushing into him feels so good that no words can escape his mouth.

“My buck,” you say, smiling down at him. The smile of yours . . . it causes him to buckle his hip straight up into your core. “Shall we descend together?”

There’s nothing really Alastor can do but nod.

Alastor watches as you reach for the first button of your blouse, eyes trapped as you slowly unbutton them to reveal nothing underneath. Oh . . . oh!

The friction from the cloth brushed against your nipple until it perked and hardened. He takes one end of your shirt, helping you pull your arms out. It’s all done with such agonizing slowness, but Alastor can feel your skin from the tips of his fingers.

You’re sitting on top of his erection, rocking your hips to keep it alive as you reach for his bowtie. Alastor allows you to unravel it from his neck, keeping silent when you throw it behind you. The buttons on his shirt don’t get treated with the same gentleness as your own. You rip his dress shirt apart, smiling as the buttons pop out to reveal the fluff on his chest.

Alastor decides that he’s lost.

You chase him into a kiss as all clothes melt into the shadows, leaving you bare on top of him. His erection springs free from its confines, allowing your bare cunt to press against it.

Alastor groans against your mouth as he feels your wetness from those already too sensitive nerves lining his dick.

Alastor leans away first, smiling up at you as he traces circles around your hips. He swipes his thumb across your cheek, pulling you closer to pepper your face with soft kisses. The giggle that comes out crinkles your eyes, and that . . . that is everything to him.

You press your face into his neck, collapsing straight into his arms. Alastor watches your head rise and fall with every breath he takes. You’re pulling on some of the strands of his fur, playing around with it. 

There’s a very pressing matter, like the way his dick presses against your stomach, but there’s just something so comfortable about being pressed up against you.

“I think I understand what you mean about wanting to be inside me. I could stay like this with you forever” You laugh into his neck, and blow into his ear. “I love you, always.”

Alastor presses his mouth against yours for a kiss. If he were to descend into this madness, he would rather do it with you pulling him in. Actually, Alastor can only descend with you.

“I will always lose when it comes to you,” he says. “That’s why I need you to be very, very good for me, cher. If I become too much, you need to tell me.”

You press another kiss, laughing. “When are you never too much?”

“I’m serious.”

You slide off his hips to glance at his cock. His erection is so hard that it’s pointed straight up. You press on his tip, barely touching it, but Alastor’s thigh tightens as the jolt of stimulation rushes down at him.

 You’re watching him now, looking at every reaction as you wrap your fingers around, testing him. Just a light squeeze, and Alastor pierces his claws around the bed sheets, arching his back to drive it into your tight hold. That felt good . . . more than a little good.

The pressure stays light, but you eventually tighten it around him when you pump your fist up and down and up and down until he comes right around your fist. Spurts of his seed trails down your fingers. It only took very little stimulation, but Alastor is already a moaning and cumming mess.

You keep pumping because his cock doesn’t get any softer. It’s still so painfully hard.

“That’s . . . interesting,” you say, licking your lips. “You’re still so hard, my dear. Is this because of the doe? Is her heat keeping you erect?”

“I haven’t . . . .” Alastor moans into the sheets when you quicken your pace. “Ah, mph . . . I . . . I haven’t . . . exactly stopped to check.”

Cruel! Oh, so very, cruel.

You’re torturing him, pumping your fists around his hard erection until he’s cumming from just your hand, spluttering out his seed in hot ropes.

It hits his nose all at once. A sweet scent that he’s more than familiar with. Through the blur of his tears, Alastor stares at you, traveling his eyes to see you rubbing your thighs together. The slick from your cunt spreads around its plumpness.

Alastor takes a deep inhale, memorizing the scent of your arousal.

It brings something out from deep within him. Alastor pulls you into a kiss, pushing you until your back hits the mattress. “This is your last chance.”

“Is that a threat?”

Alastor latches around your nipple, tracing the sensitive area with each lap of his tongue. His hands trace down the expanse of your stomach until he’s swirling his fingers around your folds. Alastor quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles around it until you’re moaning straight into his ears.

The sounds you’re making for him are greater than any music he could play.

You’re jolting and writhing underneath him, but you’re also pulling him closer, urging him on as you rock against his fingers. Alastor keeps going until he’s found that bundle of nerves. The more he presses on you, the more that sweet scent of your arousal fills his nose.

He wants . . . no . . . Alastor needs to know what your orgasm would smell like.

It’s the most helpful thing that doe would ever do for him. Bringing him to his rut earlier than planned meant that he would need to send you away much sooner. Her heat was heightening his senses, and that means he would be so heightened around you. Alastor wouldn’t refuse a gift such as this. It’s the least that doe could do for bothering him.

It doesn’t take long for you to unravel underneath him, and your essence flows around his fingers. It’s heaven. The scent of your orgasm is so heavenly sweet that Alastor cannot resist. If the scent is this good . . . Then . . . Then what would it taste like?

Alastor forgets to give you time to gather yourself, diving his mouth straight among your folds to stick his tongue out. He gives your cunt one, long swipe, tasting the mixture of your orgasm and your wetness. It’s sweeter than normal. Alastor keeps going, driven by the need to keep tasting you.

His fingers swirl around your entrance before pushing it straight inside. You moan when he does, tightening your legs around his legs.

Alastor laps his tongue around your clit before giving it a hard suck.  One hand trails up the expanse of your stomach until he reaches your nipple. Alastor traces around the sensitive bud, pinching it when you rock into his face.

His tongue can only go so far in this angle. It needs to go deeper. Alastor grabs your hips, lifting them higher into the air until you’re practically folded in half. You’re so close. He can taste it. Alastor doesn’t stop until you’re coming straight into his face.

It hits him like an ice-bucket. Gosh, what is he doing to you right now?

Alastor releases you, part of your orgasm dripping down his chin. Your chest heaves as you take time to breathe and calm down. Your legs are still draped around his shoulder with the muscles in your thigh twitching.

“We should stop here for today,” he says, pressing one last kiss on the inside of your thigh. “I don’t know what will happen if we go further.”

Alastor turns away from you before he could change his mind. It’s better this way. Safer.

Before he can get too far, you grab him by the tail.

The sudden jolt of pressure from the base of his back coaxes out such a pathetic whine from his throat. Alastor collapses into the bed, his ass sticking slightly up from where you’re grabbing his tail.

There’s an irritated look on your face. It takes a moment for you to find your voice. “What silly thoughts are running through your head now, cher?” you say, breast rising and falling with each breath you take. “Finish what you started.”

The pressure on his tail tightens. Alastor moans into the sheets, the hardest erection of his afterlife pressing against your thigh.

It’s an odd posture, but . . . well, Alastor loses control. His hips jerk against your thigh, and the feeling is so . . . It’s so . . . Alastor can’t stop sliding his cock against your thigh.

Pre-cum slides against your skin as Alastor humps against your thigh. That same pathetic whine tears through his throat when you massage the base of tail, running it through your fingers.

Alastor jerks his hips faster against you, chasing after his own release until he shoots cum on your thigh. He keeps rocking his cock against you, spreading his own release against your skin.

Despite all this, his cock still stands so erect.

You eventually release his tail, and you plop back into the bed, rubbing your thighs together. You spread your legs, circling a finger around your nipple before trailing down your stomach to insert a finger into your weeping cunt. Those fingers of yours try to massage your nerve, trying to find that sweet release that Alastor isn’t giving you.

“Alastor,” you mewl, frustration in your voice. “Alastor . . . Alastor.”

Alastor crawls back to you, hooking an arm around your hips to lift you enough to make room for himself underneath. Your back presses against his chest, face hidden into his neck.

Alastor spreads your legs even further, and inserts his own fingers along yours. The slow stretch of both your fingers has you gasping and moaning. He lays his hands on top of yours, and guides the motion of your fingers, massaging you in all the right ways.

Alastor takes your wrist when you cum, observing it with careful eyes before taking it into his mouth to lick it clean.

There’s an odd look on your face that tells him you’re nearing the cusps of overstimulation. That doesn’t stop him from flipping you over, and landing you to face him until you’re straddling his hips. His still very, very hard erection presses against you.

“One more. Give me one more,” he says, whispering against your lips. “I don’t know if I can stop myself. It needs to be you who sets the pace.”

You grip the base of his cock, swirling it around your folds before aligning yourself.

The arousal and cum dripping from your cunt lubricate him. Alastor’s head bangs into the headboard as you slowly sink into him. It coaxes a moan out his throat. The way your walls grip him . . . It’s so tight that he can barely think straight.

You start to rock your hips, keeping such a good rhythm. Alastor trails his hands around your hips then up your back. It’s all he can do to support your weight when you lean back, trying to reach that special bundle of nerves.

Alastor can’t keep his eyes off you. It’s all too beautiful. The way your breast bounces from the force of your rocking or the way your eyes are shut so tightly as you chase your own pleasure.

You’re consuming him . . . using him, and dragging him with you with every rock of your hip.

It’s hard to resist such a temptation. Alastor jerks his cock, meeting you halfway. The squelching of fluids fills the air. It’s such a sinful sound. Alastor can smell it – the mix of your scent combining with his. It fills his nose with such a heavenly scent that it forces him to come right then and there.

You tighten your grip on him when you feel his cum shoot straight into you, milking him for every drop. It makes him question who was actually currently in a rut.

With one last moan, you unravel above him and slow down the force of your hips.

The fog blurring his mind lifts a little now that he’s cummed inside you. Finally . . . finally. Oh, his darling wife. You were so good for him, taking everything he gave without a complaint. It brings hope into his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, he can spend his ruts with you. Alastor can finally hide you away for as long as it takes to end. It would just be him and you, and you and him.

You’re still seated inside him, breath rising and falling as you catch you—

“Alastor.” You whine straight into his chest, fingers tightening around his fur. The grip you have on him strengthens as you tremble within his arms. “Alastor . . . You tell me what is happening right now. What are you doing to me?”

Alastor places a hand on your shoulder, and . . . oh!  It’s getting tighter – you’re getting tighter.

His forehead collapses on your shoulder as he tries to breath through his nose. It’s too tight. You’re suddenly clamping down on him, walls getting tighter and tighter and tighter. It’s a little hard to think right now.

With your knees, you try to push yourself out of him. All it does is pull on his sensitive cock. Once more, you try to pull yourself out of him, but it’s simply not working. Every tug your make sends radio waves straight into him until static releases from his skin, and distorts the air around him.

Alastor pulls your flush around him, bringing his arms around you in a tight embrace. It’s all he could do to keep you still. “It’s . . . mph . . .It’s a knot. It should probably last for about an hour.”

“Probably?” you screech, and bite down on his shoulder with a moan when you shift above him. “There’s a possibility that you’ll be stuck inside me for more than an hour . . . “

“This has never happened before.”

Despite the absolute horror in your face, you swipe your tongue across your lips to lick it, and clench tighter around him. You collapse on his shoulder, face buried into his skin as you adjust to the stretching of your walls.

It takes a moment, but you eventually relax against him. Your eyes are dropping low despite being stuck and sweaty and covered with so much fluids he doesn’t even know which ones belong to who.

Alastor peppers your face with kisses, trying to keep you awake. “Don’t sleep,” he says, pressing his lips on your eyelids. “We don’t know what could happen to you if you do.”

You’re nodding off faster than he can wake you. Alastor isn’t even sure you processed what he said. “I’m tired, my sweet Al.”

“I know.” Alastor presses his lips on the tip of your nose. “But you can’t fall asleep, not yet.”

“No . . . I . . . miss you . . . and I’m tired of not being able to be with you. Tell me to stay . . . and I will do so,” you say, mumbling against the fur on his chest, giving it soft kisses. “Just . . . tell me to . . . stay.”

Alastor doesn’t have the heart to jostle you awake. So, he allows you to fall asleep, still completely buried inside him.

“How completely unfair of you, cher. How can I deny such a request when you have that look on your face.” Alastor whispers the words into your hair. “Stay here with me. I never should have allowed you to leave. You’re staying right where I can see you.”

Alastor will always lose when it comes to you – the only temptation in his world.

Tags: @crackrodent @whatswrongwithblue @n0tmentallystable @s-a-f-f-y-nation @chibistar45 @sweet-radio @s-a-f-f-y-nation

[safination]

What's that? Antler massages? Submissive and desperate Alastor? Deprived and rut-driven Alastor? This is messing with my word count but you can't just say that and not expect me to add it. This was supposed to come out before New Year!

Sneak peek for Part 2 of The Only Temptation :D Alastor is finally starting his rut

The Only Temptation

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. Heats! Ruts! Alastor and Ruts! dual POV, Handjob, dirty talking, phone handjob, TLDR: Alastor's rut is being drawn out by a doe who is definitely not you, but weirdly enough or not so weirdly enough, he only seems to craves you. AN: Hello! I haven't posted in a while, but pshhh we'll just ignore that. Since I'm turning the big 22, this fic will also be 2/2. This is just 1/2 (Truthfully, I just ran out of time and decided to cut this into 2 parts.) Also, will you look at that! My first smut! Handjobs should count as smut right? And here I thought my religious ass would never make one of these. Oh, well. It goes without saying but I'm going to say it anyway: MINORS DNI

There’s a doe in the Hazbin Hotel.

You bumped into her as you were making your way to Alastor’s radio tower. There would be more of these types of interactions if you actively lived in the hotel like you want, but Alastor refuses to allow you to stay for too long with the excuse of it being safer to hide you away at home while he stays here.

There are ears on the top of this doe’s head. It reminds you of Alastor. They’re a bit cute – more than, ‘a bit cute’ if you were being honest. Downright adorable if you were really being honest. Spots trails over her shoulders and continue into her clothes.

What an itty-bitty doe. So ready to be devoured! (Part of you wonders if Alastor would appreciate the taste of a doe’s flesh. A surprise gift, maybe?)

You’ve never seen a doe in Hell before, but she’s not really important to you right now. So, you throw her to the back of your mind and make your way to Alastor’s radio tower.

All of Alastor’s senses are heightened because of that damn doe. It’s quite a predicament as rut season nears, and the pheromones being released place him in quite the difficult spot.

It gets worse when his ears catch upon a slight knock and . . . and the scent of you.

Alastor can’t describe what prickles his nose, but it’s the scent of morning coffee shared through one mug. He takes a deeper whiff and it becomes the scent of soft music playing through the radio as you dance around the room.

It seems that doe has unlocked something in him. The scent of you has never tasted like that until now. It brings out a hunger for you that goes deeper than normal.

The smell intensifies when the door clicks open, and that hunger strikes even deeper. It travels through the air, settling itself in his stomach. Alastor pierces the tips of his claws into his skin before he could fully lose himself.

It becomes worse . . . better? . . . when you remove your coat, hanging it on the rack. The scent becomes so strong that he’s enchanted for more than a second. Actually, it’s so heavenly to his senses that blood pools between his legs and settles into his thighs.

Alastor inches closer to the desk, hiding the way his cock has pitched a tent from just the scent of you. He pretends to busy himself with the buttons on the panel, even when the broadcast ended five-minutes ago.

You swat his hand away, and sit on the table. There’s deliberate care in the way you prop yourself, careful not to hit any of the knobs.

A small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi . . .” Alastor lays his head on your thighs, shighing into their plumpness as he swipes his thumb on your skin. Everything about you sends high frequency pitches into his skin. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Well, my dearest,” you begin, massaging the base of his antlers, “the purpose of a surprise if for it to be unsuspecting.”

The witty response to your statement dies in his throat. A groan of relief replaces it as you continue to massage his antlers. That annoying itch lessens when you press on the base just a little firmer.

That fact that it feels good to have his antlers scratched can only mean one thing . . .

“You’re nearing your rut,” you say, plain and simple, as if his unnoticed erection already isn’t an indicator. “Hmmm, it seems I picked a good time to drop by.”

Alastor leans his cheek a little bit deeper into your thighs. “It’s still too early.”

“Does it have to do something with that little doe I spotted earlier?”

Alastor isn’t getting used to your scent.

Usually, strong scents should fade into the background after some time. Usually. Alastor is constantly and painfully aware of the scent of heaven on your skin.

Everything about you is driving him up the wall. So much so, the Alastor stays limp in your hold, afraid that shifting will cause his already sensitive erection to brush against you.

“What a silly thought,” he says, even as his cock throbs uncomfortably in his pants. Alastor’s never been this hard before. That heavenly scent means he’ll have to send you away soon if his rut is hitting a little early.

How has he never noticed how good you smell?

“There’s no reason you have to go through this alone.” You pull on the ends of his hair. “Maybe there’s a reason why it takes you a month to calm down. Wouldn’t getting your satisfaction speed things along?”

“That’s out of the question.”

“You won’t know if we don’t try,” you say, frowning a little. “We can at least try, dearest. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Alastor allows himself to dream about it. It would be nice to have you to himself for a month, if his erection is an indicator. Your very presence is already causing a wet patch of pre-cum to spread. He’s so painfully hard that he can feel the beat of blood going through his veins.

Alastor would take you, hiding you at home. It’s purposely far from the prying eyes of the bustling city. There he would spend the next month burying himself into you. The hunger that gnaws on his belly will be satiated with the taste of the combined fluids dripping down your cunt.

No, that wouldn’t do. That would just be a waste of perfectly good cum. It needs to stay inside you if he’s going to defy a Sinner’s biology. Alastor would need to take every drop, and make sure it’s not wasted. He would fill you up until a large bulge would—

What is he thinking about?

Giving in to his instincts would do you more harm than good. You weren’t a doe, and that means your body isn’t meant to handle his rut.

“It’s not safe for you to be at the hotel at the moment.” Alastor is playing a dangerous game – one where Heaven has set its hat into the ring.

There’s a reason why he’s hidden the house from prying eyes. It’s much safer . . . or at least that’s the reason he’s giving you.

A small frown. “Then we can hide away at home.”

“I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself.” Alastor nuzzles into your thigh. “We have the same argument every season.”

“I see,” you say, and that’s a proper frown on your lips now. “I won’t be seeing you for some time then.”

“Now, now. Don’t frown, cher.” Alastor pushes your lips up into a bright smile. “You look absolutely ravishing in one of these.”

There’s a small smile that grows on your face.

You tilt his chin, and press a kiss on the edge of his smile. Alastor crosses his legs, digging his claws into them to try and regain any semblance of control.

“I think I would almost miss you, my dearest,” you tell him, showing off that cheeky, little smile. “It’s bound to get incredibly dull around here. It always does when you’re not around.”

Alastor barks out a laugh, pulling your face into his hold to stare into you. Just a little longer. That’s all he needs. “Flirting? That’s certainly a new tactic,” he says, swiping his thumb across your cheek. “I think I would miss you as well, cher.”

Alastor pulls off his bowtie in one swift motion, throwing it off somewhere irrelevant. It’s been hours, yet he’s still so painfully hard. It forced him to hide away in his room the moment you left. Changing into looser clothing helps, but every brush of his cock sends tingles up his spine.

His shadow crawls up the wall with a scowl. The thing zooms around, seemingly in a mood as foul as his. It disappears under the cracks of the door, and Alastor doesn’t have enough blood circulating through his brain to question where it went.

Maybe, the blood would be passing through his brain if it wasn’t pooling in his throbbing erection. It’s been throbbing all day long.

Damn that does.

Alastor should kill her; end the madness she’s bringing. If the hormones from her heat stop, then his rut won’t start for another few days, or maybe even a week if he’s lucky.

The delay of his rut means the delay of his departure. Alastor can keep you by his side for a moment longer. Just a little longer until the inevitable.

You can be by his side. You can stay with him. You can . . . you . . . you!

The scent of you invades his nose. It hits harder the more he inhales. But you shouldn’t be here. Alastor sent you away. He made sure you exited those hotel doors, and he kept his eyes on the horizon until he could no longer see you and then a little longer after that.

His shadow slithers back into the room, something in its hands. Alastor lifts his head from the pool of pillows and . . . and it’s your coat.

The scent of you lingers on it.

“Get that thing away from me,” he hisses even as his cock twitches against his underwear. “Go burn it in the fireplace.”

The shadow slithers closer, dropping the coat Alastor just demanded to be burnt. It’s never defied one of his orders before.

His shadow pushes it closer to his face, and all anger fizzles at his throat when the smell of you breaches his nose. It drives him crazy, but it brings some sort or soothing effect as well.

Did you forget it here?

Or did you leave this for him?

Alastor buries his face into it, even when he knows he should return the thing. Alastor isn’t a dense Sinner. He’s well aware of what will happen if he allows something like this to stay . . . but what if you really did leave it for him?

The cloth of his pajama chafes against his skin. It’s too warm, and the scent of your coat is a splash of gasoline in an already burning sea of flames.

The image of holding you plagues his mind. Despite the burning in his skin, Alastor wouldn’t care as long as it came from you. Burning would feel heavenly as long as it was you who held the other end of that matchstick.

The echo of your laughter bounces in his mind, and blood shoots straight down, fueling his erection even more. The cloth from his underwear brushes against it, and a tiny groan escapes him as it goes over the sensitive head.

Alastor’s had enough. It’s adding fuel to his already foul mood. He shreds his clothes off, tearing it with his claws. He lies in a pool of scrapped fabric, his dick springing forth.

The shadow scoots your coat just a little bit closer. Alastor inhales the scent, burying himself into it. It’s a fuel to an already burning flame, but it’s coming from you. So, how bad can it really be?

He shifts his legs, and the way his cock rubs against the silk sheets tears coaxes a moan from his throat. It’s debauchery. It’s sinful . . . but it feels too good. Wet patches of pre-cum stains his sheets.

Alastor trails his palms lower, running them through his stomach until he’s fisted his cock. He pumps his shaft through his fist, trying to find relief.

It’s not . . . It’s not working?

He searches his mind, trying to remember how your fingers would work him into his release.

How tight would you squeeze him?

Where would you start? Alastor should remember that much, considering it was your hand pumping his cock.

Right . . . The head.

Alastor rubs his sensitive head, swirling it around like you do, and fuck! It’s just a shitload of nothing.

His fingers are too rough. You know how to build him into cumming, but you’re not here right now. Haphazardly fisting his cock isn’t going to bring him anywhere.

The temptation to give up is there, but he’s been erect all day. Alastor needs to end this tonight.

Alastor massages the tip once more, but with more purpose, just like you do. A moan releases into the air. If he shuts off all senses, he can pretend that it’s your hand that’s—

His shadow holds up a ringing, landline phone.

Alastor looks at it, then at the hand still fisted around his cock, and the back at his shadow.

The shadow looks back at him.

Alastor squeezes himself, ignoring the shadow as he tries to build that same mood. “Throw it away.”

His shadow has a look on its face, and pushes the thing closer. Alastor’s about to destroy it himself when he realizes there’s only one Sinner who has the number to this landline – You.

Alastor grabs the receiver, ignoring the fact that he’s very naked, lying on a bed that’s stained with his pre-cum, and a very erect dick.

“Alastor!” The sound of your voice stuns him a little, even when he knew it would be you on the other end. “Alastor?” you call out. “Hello?”

It takes him more than a second to take the blood that’s throbbing his erection, and force it up his brain. “And what have I done to displease you, dearest,” he says, “that you would force me to use this blasted phone?”

“That’s what you say every single time you pick up the phone.” You chuckle a little. A small chuckle – that’s all it took to shoot the blood back down. “Yet, not once have you missed my call.”

“This is my punishment, not yours.”

“I’m calling to let you know I made it home with no problem,” you tell him. “And . . . I think I left my coat there.”

“Ah . . . yes.” Alastor swirls the head of his cock. Maybe hearing your voice would be the push he needed. “I’m looking at it right now.”

“Are you alright, dearest?” you say. “You don’t sound too good.”

“Just . . . a little tired.” His breath goes through the receiver, even as his claws dig through the pillow. It’s doing nothing for him – nothing at all. “There’s no need to concern that ridiculous head of yours.”

It’s silent at the other end of the receiver. Alastor can hear the gears turning in your head. You always were a bit too perceptive about him. “Did you run into your new little, doe friend?”

“That thing is not my friend,” Alastor hisses, still trying to pump his shaft.

“My apologies then,” you say, snickering. “I forget that you do not allow yourself the pleasure of friendship, but I’m starting to think that it’s not you who turns away from it.”

“Hilarious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch. Coincidentally, so does his dick. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I’m in the middle of something important. I’ll have one of the ink puppets drop off –”

“I think I left something important in my left pocket,” you say, and despite being miles apart, Alastor can hear your smile. “Could you check it for me, and make sure it’s still there?”

Alastor dips his fingers into your left pocket, finding what seems to be a small card. He flips it over, and this definitely is not a card. It’s a small, polaroid photo. It’s you in that picture. You’re wearing—

Actually, what you’re wearing doesn’t really matter. Alastor will take a look at it later. It’s probably something red. What catches his attention is the fact that your ass is pointed to the air. There are a myriad of bite marks and hickeys around your thighs, leading a path up to your glistening cunt.

“Do you like it?”

Alastor blinks at it for a second . . . and then, another second . . . and its laughter that echoes around his room despite how the picture rushes blood down his already throbbing cock. The need for relief grows stronger.

“Did you take this for me?” Alastor wheezes, eyes bulging in different directions. Tears fall from his eyes as he laughs. “How ridiculous of you, dearest! You’re propped up like a stretching cat.”

“That’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for,” you say, chuckling. “However, I am glad that you’re enjoying it, one way or another.”

Alastor shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, and glances at his painfully throbbing erection. “I’m in quite the predicament because of you.”

“Oh!” You sound a bit too delighted. “So, you’re—”

“As a rock.” Alastor pokes his dick, hoping it would do something.

“How amusing!” Your laughter rings into the receiver. Alastor revels in it, enjoying the sound. “You’re eerily responsive tonight. Shall I send you more?”

Alastor rolls his eyes at you. “Take responsibility for what you’ve caused.”

“Al, I already did my portion,” you say. “I can’t exactly do the next part for you, unless you drag yourself home.”

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

Alastor swears he can hear the way your eyes roll at him. “I think you know what to do.”

“Don’t mock me.” Alastor flicks the head of his cock. “It’s not working. So, take responsibility for your actions.”

It’s silent for a little bit, but his ears pick up the way you lick your lips. “Why don’t you take a moment to get comfortable.”

Alastor takes a moment he doesn’t need. Talking to you always brings him comfort. “That’s been taken care of.”

“My naughty buck . . . I start with the tip,” you tell him. “I use a little bit of that pre-cum to lubricate you. Swirl it around before pumping it down.”

Alastor does as he’s told, massaging the sensitive tip as he lubricates himself. The sound of your breathing . . . the lingering scent from your coat . . . it coaxes a small moan from him. Alastor makes sure you can hear him through the receiver.

“I trail my fingers up the back, tracing that little line,” you tell him, and there’s definitely a smile on your face. “Can you do that for me, my sweet Al?”

Alastor gasps into the air, using the tips of his sharp claw to trace a path from the base to the head. It’s exactly how you do it. He can almost believe that it’s your hand that’s touching him.

“What’s next?” He breathes through the receiver, closing his eyes to revel in the feeling of everything. “What’s next, cher? Tell me what to do.”

“Make a ring with your finger, and wrap it around the base,” you tell him, voice a bit low. “Tighter, Alastor. Make it tighter than you think you need it to be.”

Alastor will never have the ability to deny you. So, there’s really nothing really else but to make a ring with his finger. The constant pressure feels so heavenly sinful. His hips buck up as he squeezes even tighter. Alastor takes his other hand, and pumps the length of his shaft in slow motions, making sure he feels every ounce of his building pleasure.

“Are you thinking about me right now?” you say. “Am I running around in that head of yours, pressing kisses before I take you into my mouth? Or am I on your hips, bouncing along to the beat of your drum?

“You never stopped.” Alastor thinks he moans your name, but the way he buries his face into your coat overloads his senses. The fire in his stomach burns faster, rising to the way you stroke his flames. “Cher . . . cher.”

“I’m right here, Alastor,” you say, and there’s a playful tint in the way you say his name. “Faster, dear. Lose yourself into me.”

Alastor jerks his hips, driving his cock into his hand faster and faster and faster.

The sound of your breathing pulls him along as he ruts into his hand, chasing sinfully sweet release. Alastor glances back at the photo of you, ass so high it’s practically worshiping him.

As he drives his hips up, Alastor notices something glistening around your folds.

A loud moan rips itself out of him. That’s his seed painting your cunt, slowly dripping out of you.

Finally, finally, his pleasure builds to its peak, and topples him over. Ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, pooling around his stomach. Alastor keeps pumping, dragging out all it’s worth as he spurts all over the bed, watching his seed drop to your coat.

Alastor doesn’t stop humping his fist, even as cum on your coat changes the smell on it. He keeps going until he’s still holding his still erect cock, driving it faster up his own sticky seed.

There’s a second where his mind clears for a fraction. Alastor takes a look around at the mess he’s making, and to the mess that he will make.

 No . . . no.

It’s all wrong.

Why is he cumming on his fist? This . . . this should be inside you.

If you happen to read this, I wanna thank all my friends in this fandom. The friendship I found in all of you makes me happier than I can ever express. I dedicate this handjob to : @nyx-umbrakinesis @redfoxwritesstuff @redvexillum @whatswrongwithblue @inuhalfdemon @crackrodent . I hope each and every one of you knows that you have all pushed me to become a better writer, and pushed me out of my own comfort zone. Each and every one of your works inspire me to become better and push myself to my limits. If it wasn’t for everyone at VoxTek, I would have dropped Alastor a long time ago. There’s a tweet I found that says we should be writing not for an audience but for ourselves and our five friends who are crazy enough to read what we write. I write for me and for you.

[safination]

Darling, I'm an Overlord

|Masterlist|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, Dry humping, licking, biting, sucking, foreplay, MINORS DNI

“I could make an offering,” you say, pressing a kiss to where his jaw ends. It’s a simple act to roll your hips down. “…But I think I would prefer to get on my knees and show you how I worship.” Alastor grips your waist, rolling your hips even deeper. “Just a king?” “How about an emperor?” A twitch tells you everything there is to know—it’s still not enough. “More.” “How greedy,” you tell him and tap a stray finger on his belt buckle. “Hmmm, then—How about I worship you like an Overlord?” Alastor laughs, shaking his head but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. It’s the smallest of movements, but if forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. TLDR: Alastor's worried you'll be late for dinner, but he promised to be patient, and such control deserves an award

This was stuck in my mind and no, I will not continue it but any other author is free to go and complete it. Honestly, not my best work but I think some of you might enjoy it. Tbh, I felt awkward writing it, but that's a whole different can of worm. This is quite short and I wish I could add more, but not really lol. MINORS DNI—NSFW

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There’s a specific shade of red that Alastor enjoys on your lips. It’s quite the inconvenience to ask a shop to custom make the color every single time the lipstick runs out, but your husband is a man of fine detail. Even the smallest of changes will be noted.

As all things do, this specific pigment will eventually disappear for good. Still, you swipe the color across your lips, painting it red.

Afterall, a special night requires a special look.

“Dearest, we’re going to be late,” Alastor calls out with a smile that shows the yellow of his teeth. There’s a small twitch on his cheek and his fingers impatiently tap on the tip of his microphone, even as he sports an even tone. “The reservation won’t hold for very long.”

You lock his gaze from the reflection of the mirror. “Late?”

“Yes,late.” Alastor brings a hand out, leaning on the bed. There’s a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his face. “We’re going to be late.”

Darling, you’re the Radio Demon–one of the most powerful Overlords in this realm.” You blot your lips on some tissue. “They wouldn’t give away our table, and there’s always the option to kill anyone who complains.”

A muscle on Alastor’s cheek twitches. “Oh my…It seems I’ve been far too complacent if someone would dare to voice their objections to me.”

Lines trail the skirt of your dress, smoothing the wrinkles before presenting it to Alastor. “Tell me what you think, honey,” you say, smiling as you twirl. “Come on–How does it look on me?

“Good,” Alastor says, humming. “Shall we take our leave? I already have your coat.”

You frown, pointing your nose into the air. “Good?” you parrot back. “That’s not good enough. I was aiming for ravishing. I guess I should change.”

“Take your time, my love.” Alastor pinches the bridges of his nose but smiles nonetheless. “Afterall, I specifically said I wouldn’t complain.”

With a laugh, you stride towards him and present your bare back. “A little help?”

“That’s much better,” Alastor says as a claw gently trails up the skin of your back. The tip sends shivers down your spine and straight into your core until he digs the claw on the base of your shoulder. A drop of blood oozes out, trailing down your back. “Now, it’s absolutely ravishing.”

“I meant the zipper,” you say. “If it stains, Niffty will hang your head.”

“My apologies.”

Oh…his tongue is moist. It trails across your skin, painting slow trails across your shoulder to lap the blood. The zipper of your dress zips up before you could fully lose yourself.

You turn to face Alastor, stepping between his legs to place your hands on his knees. It only takes a single but gentle push to widen the space, and your hands keep pushing wider until you’re leaning down to meet his gaze.

“You’ve been doing an exemplary job of hiding your irritation,” you say, and kiss the edge of his lips, lingering for more than a moment. “Such control deserves a reward.”

Alastor takes his thumb, swiping away the streak of red. It only smudges it across his lips. “We have a reservation,” he says but slots you further between his legs with a firm grasp on your hips. “What was the point of making one if we aren’t going to be on time?”

The tip of your tongue swipes across his lips, lapping away the lipstick stain.

Alastor’s eye twitches, and uses a finger to push you back. Instead you open your mouth to suck his finger, swirling your tongue around the skin. It trails from the base of where his palm meets his finger then until his knuckle. The wetness of your tongue licks until it reaches the tip of his pointed claw.

The edges of your teeth nibble on his skin before taking in another finger. Alastor blinks at you as you suck his digits deeper in your mouth, swirling your tongue around to reach the tip then down the knuckle until his claw hits the back of your throat.

You move your tongue upwards from the base, trailing it to lap around the tip of his claw before releasing his fingers with a small pop.

A line of saliva bridges your tongue to his finger.

The palms of your hands trail up his knees, pressing down the plum of his legs. “We’ve been over this, darling,” you tell him, inching closer to press a kiss on the edges of his lips. “Overlord. Radio Demon. Death.”

Alastor catches your wrists, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. “Just an Overlord?”

“Powerful Overlord.” The next kiss goes on his jaw.

“Then how would you give me my reward?” Alastor pulls back, pressing his own kiss on the ring around your finger. “Tell me every detail.”

“I could treat you like a king,” you say, brushing your lips down his jaw. Alastor leans to the side, exposing his neck for another one of your kisses. “

Your hands trail across his dress pants once more, stopping when your knees land on the carpet.

The side of your cheek nuzzles against his leg, and you smile up at him, locking his gaze to your eyes. You press your lips along the inside of his thigh, glazing kiss after kiss after kiss. Still, you keep your eyes staring firm into him, even as Alastor’s leg jumps from the sudden bite of your teeth.

The curve of your nose outlines his leg, and a muscle in his thigh tightens. It loosens and relax when you brush the pads of your thumb up and down.

Alastor crawls back to climb down the bed. A steady hand guides the plush of your thigh, beckoning you to crawl after him. It squeezes when his back hits the headboard. Alastor’s thumb swipes over the inside of your leg and he digs a claw into the skin. This prompts you to throw your legs over him, straddling his hip while leaving room for an erection to grow.

“Tell me how you would treat me like a king.”

“I could make an offering,” you tell him, rolling your hips to stimulate his softened member. The crotch of your lace underwear grinds on him. “...But I think I would prefer to get on my knees, and show you how I worship a king.”

Alastor grips your waist to pull your lower into him, steading you as you rub against him. “Just a king?”

“How about an emperor?”

A twitch pokes your crotch and it tells you everything there is to know–it’s still not enough. Alastor needs … “More.”

“How greedy,” you tell him, trailing your hands down his chest until it reaches his belt buckle. Your fingers tap on the metal over and over and over again. “Hmmm, then–How about I worship you like an Overlord?”

Alastor laughs into the air, breathy as he exhales. Sure, it’s a ridiculous notion…but his hips rut upwards to meet you halfway. The way his clothed tip grins on the crotch of your panties pulls a small gasp tumbling out your lips. It’s the smallest of movements but it forces you to press a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

Alastor grunts as he snaps his hips up. The claws on his hand dig into your hip when you grind down on him.

More….It’s not enough. You need mo--

Alastor’s bow tie is crooked. That just won’t do.

You pull on the edges of the fabric, unfastening the knot until it pools between your palms. The pace of your grinding slows as the pads of your finger trail down his arms. It wraps around his wrist, and you bring them to your lips, pressing a kiss on the inside before pulling them together above his head.

Another twitch of his clothed cock. It hits deeper into your core this time, prompting you to lean forward with a breath exhale. Never have you been more glad to be wearing such thing panties. The force of your shifting weight grinds your crotch harder into him. The back of Alastor’s head hits the headboard with a slight jump.

There’s an innocent smile on your lips as you take his bowtie and bind his wrist to the bedframe with a knot. “This looks much better, indeed.”

Alastor pulls on the knot and it unfasted around his wrist. “Are you doing this correctly?”

You keep grinding deeper into his cock until small moans release into the air. The pace of your humping quickens as you re-tie the loose knot around his wrist. 

“Don’t you know, darling? Overlords brim with power,” you tell him, trailing a sharp nail between the buttons of his dress-shirt until it snaps open. “I have to protect this feeble body of mine from such strength.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek with a hum. “How smart.”

“Shall we make a deal, my dearest, darling, Overlord husband?” you say, nibbling the edges of your teeth on his shoulder. 

Alastor snaps his hips up to rut the tip even deeper, forcing you to moan into his skin. Soft breaths brush across. His hands dig deeper into your hips, pulling even deeper as he grinds his cock into your underwear.

“Slow… Fast. It doesn't matter,” you say, and the words come breathier than planned. “I will keep going until the knot holds secure. The moment it slips off, so do I…And I will leave, no matter how close … no matter how desperate.”

Each word brushes your lips on the sensitive spot between the junction of his neck and shoulder. Fabric prevents you from burying yourself deeply around his cock and moving until his hips bruise

Alastor leans backward to chase a greedy kiss, but you lean away with a smile. “..Dearest.”

“But we’re going to be late,” you tell him. “Afterall, reservations were mad--”

Shadow tentacles slither around your body, trailing across your waist and up your breasts. Darkness crawls between them, massaging the soft tissue. It trails higher and higher until it reaches your neck.

 “Oh darling…don’t you know?” Alastor says, and the tentacles pull your head lower until you feel the clothed tip pressing on your lips.

There isn’t much else to do but press your lips, giving his cock the smallest of kisses.

“I’m an Overlord.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Tell me what you guys think! I'm not really used to writing such suggestive pieces lol Sooo some feedback would be nice.

[safination]

First of all, I love you. Like a lot. Very very a lot. More than a lot.

SECOND. See how it’s angsty but I didn’t end it with sad? It ended hopefully and happy. VERY MINDFUL. VERY DEMURE. Emotionally compromised but not emotionally broken. Things can still hurt while being happy!!!!

Mistletoe Deal

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor, Established Relationships, Soft Alastor, P in V, Cockwarming, Oral Sex (f! Receiving) [TLDR: After seven years, Alastor finally decides to show himself to you. He can't stay for very long, but maybe a deal underneath the mistletoe could buy you a night with him, and him alone.] AN: Happy Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoy my litter offering for the winterfest event at @voxtekinc is hosting. Gosh, smut is so much harder than I thought it was. This isn't my best work, because I know I could do better but the holiday rush got to me, so this is all I've got T_T. Please, do enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think. This is my first smut huhu please be gentle with me <3

Alastor stands before you after seven, long years.

This is the first time you’ve seen him since he left. You heard about his stints in the news. The countless ways he’s defended the Hazbin Hotel in such big displays of power, and of course, his whole duet with Vox. It’s almost . . . as if he was being loud on purpose, as if it was a way to announce his presence.

There’s a part of you that hoped this was his way of calling out, that he would visit soon, but Alastor never did.

Alastor takes the open seat on the porch steps, staring straight at the dark, red night.

There must be a Christmas party happening in the Hazbin Hotel. It’s the only plausible reason why he’s wearing a dress suit, complete with a red vest, and a proper tail-coat. His hair is slicked back. Alastor only ever slicks it back for formal parties.

The nightgown you’re wearing suddenly feels a little bit underdressed.

You stay silent, upholding the silence that’s lasted for seven years.

You wrap the blanket closer around your shoulders, sitting as still as possible on the porch steps. There’s that small voice saying Alastor might disappear if you move.

There’s a sense of contentment. It’s weird, but in a funny way that always seems to arise with Alastor. You’ve imagined this day since the moment Alastor left: what you would say, what you would feel, what you would do.

Anger.

Irritation.

Sadness.

Questions— so many questions. Why? Why? Why why why why whywhywhywhwy? Why, Alastor?

None of your questions seem to matter right at this moment with Alastor sitting next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat of him despite the blanket. He’s so close that you can hear the breath he takes, and the distinct smell of alcohol. He’s so close, yet you do not dare move closer.

See? Weird in a funny way.

Yet, as Alastor watches the stars, you’re stuck watching him as if he was your own personal star. All you can think about is how the night air blows the strands of his hair. How he looks ahead of you with the same smile he’s always worn.

It’s silent for a long time — a very, very long time . . . until the slow rustle of clothes. Alastor slides his tail-coat off his shoulders, carefully removing it until they’re off his long arms. He folds it in front of him, fiddling with the lapels. It’s almost funny how unsure he looks.

Alastor leans closer, and your skin prickles from the heat. He pulls the blanket around your shoulders, securing them to protect you from Hell’s cruel and cold night until warmth itself settles straight into your bones.

Alastor presses one, single kiss on your cheek. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

He wraps his coat around your shoulders, and it’s even warmer than the blanket. 

Alastor stays silent, even as he stands to leave.

No – not again.

Your hands reach out to grab him before you fully think about it. It’s instinct, plain and simple, instinct.

There’s surprise that flickers in his eyes. How silly of him to have such a look on his face. It’s almost insulting. What is seven years compared to the decades you’ve had together, or the decades you will have together?

Alastor relents to the silent command, sitting next to you once more. His fingers trace the ring you’ve always worn, and it’s as if he’s surprised you’re still wearing it. Now that . . . that’s insulting.

How silly.

How absolutely silly.

You take the other edge of the blanket, and wrap it around his shoulder. It forces him to press even closer than before.

“You have a talent for insulting me without having to say a word, dearest.” You lean on his shoulders, nuzzling straight into him. “Do you think my vows to you are so weak that seven years would make a difference?”

There’s still that insulting uncertainty in the way he reaches out, but you meet him halfway, leaning your cheek into his hand until his hold becomes confident. Alastor swipes your cheek with his thumb. “Is this much better?”

“Indeed.”

Silence rises once more, but it’s comfortable. There’s so much you want to say, and even more you want to do, . . . but . . . but Alastor traces the back of your hand oh, so softly, careful not to pierce you with his claws. You settle into his hold, enjoying this little bubble of a moment.

The tips of your claws trace the likes of his red vest. “Are you going to stay?”

“I . . ..” Alastor’s ears flicker before they press to the back of his head. “I can’t.”

“Alastor.” There’s more you want to say, but the words catch on his name. “Alastor . . . Alastor.”

 “Yes, my dear?” Alastor smiles at you, answering your call for him.

Oh . . . It’s been years since you called out his name, and received an answer.

“Don’t leave me tonight,” you say, plain and simple, even as your arms betray your desperation. They snake around his waist, holding him closer to you. “You can leave before the sun rises. If that’s too late you can leave as soon as I fall asleep.”

Alastor touches your face, smoothening whatever expression you seem to be making. “So much fussing,” he says. “Stop making such a face, cher.”

“Then, take responsibility,” you tell him, leaning into his touch. “You’ll be too busy to call me about your safety, and I’ll have to wait until the news reports of the next attack to see if you’re alive. I’ll have to wait the entire time, worrying about you.”

“You’re forgetting who I am.” Alastor laughs at you. 

“And you’re forgetting who you are to me,” you say, chuckling a little. “Why should I be subjected to such torture for you?”

Alastor laughs at you again, and his eyes bulge as he does. He takes your hand, pulling it closer to him with a smile that shows off the yellow in his teeth, and presses his lips on the ring around your finger.

Well, that’s certainly an answer to your question.

“It’s impossible to deny you when you’re making such a face.” Alastor smiles down at you, brushing his fingers down your cheek. It’s such a small gesture that means the world to you. “Shall we make a deal?”

“If it ensures you’ll stay tonight,” you tell him as Alastor tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Alastor snaps his fingers, and magic pools above you, conjuring something above. Oh . . . it’s a mistletoe. It dangles above your heads, swaying from the chill of Hell’s night air.

“Just one of these shall do.” Alastor brushes his thumb across your lips. “Just one from you, and I’ll stay until the night lasts, and not a second before.”

You lean even closer, pressing your forehead against his. Alastor’s here. He’s really here.

The first kiss goes on his cheek, and it lingers far longer than it should. The next one goes on his other cheek. His nose. His forehead. The edges of his lips. It’s foul to tease him like this, but you do so anyway.

You brush your lips across his, and finally, finally, give Alastor a proper kiss. It’s still the same soft and chapped lips as you remember. It’s all still the same.

Alastor brushes his thumb across your cheek, and your eyes flutter to a close.

The deal was for one, but you press kiss after kiss after kiss until there's no denying that you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal. Alastor has to stay for as long as the night lasts.

“I think this is my favorite Christmas tradition yet,” you say, a small but happy smile on your lips. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

Alastor laughs, snapping the blanket and coat away, and steals one last kiss from your lips. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

The door opens with a click, yet your hands are still around the metal. There’s no reason to be nervous, but your hand refuses to open the doorknob.

Alastor reaches from behind, wrapping his hand around yours. The warmth of his hold transfers to your skin. Such a simple gesture, yet it tethers you next to him. “My dear, shall we go inside together?”

It’s the way he said it, ‘together. 

There’s a small smile on your lips that you don’t remember smiling. That’s the thing with Alastor—just being with him brings out joy that blooms across your face. The door opens with a twist of the knob. 

Together – that’s how you and Alastor open the door, and that’s how it should be.

It’s . . . home. It’s been home for a very, very, long time even during the lonely nights you didn’t want them to be. These traces he left always seemed to haunt you.

The scattered radios across the shelves, the grand piano in the other room, and the clutter of stained broadcasting scripts; these will always be home.

Alastor slides into your field of vision with a cheery smile, and boops your nose. You almost succumb to that sweet calling of biting off that finger for such an audacity. “What’s going on inside that pretty, little head of yours – something ridiculous, perhaps?”

 Pretty. 

A pleased smile grows on your lips. It’s there despite the mix of praise and carefully hidden insults your husband likes to throw in for good fun.

“An answer, please.” He flicks the tip of your nose.

You swat his hand away.

Alastor rubs the back of his hand with a click of his tongue. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. I’m here to blow away any ridiculous thought of yours.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” you say. “I think . . .”

For the first time in seven years. . . it’s not just you in this house, and the wounds that haunt you begin to heal from the traces of you and him. 

There’s a wedding photo that shows you and Alastor. It’s propped up in a way that you and Alastor can see it over morning coffee.

There’s a book that Alastor reads out loud while you do some threadwork. It’s mindlessly thrown across a coffee table that has two distinct mug stains that sit next to each other.

“I was thinking about the living room.” You grab his hand, pressing one, single kiss over his ring. “That’s all there is.”

Alastor’s smiling at you. “And what do you see when you look at our living room?”

You and him.

Him and you.

The evidence is already there.

“I see us.” You squeeze his hand. “Me and you – right here, together.”

Alastor squeezes back with a smile, and crashes you straight into his arm with a hug. Your nose hits his chest, but you stay within his hold. The faint metallic scent of alcohol mixed with Alastor, and you cannot pull away. Not from him – never from him.

His hand travels up your back, ghosting over your neck until he cradles your head with an oh, so soft grasp.

“Al?” You tap on his bicep. “Al . . . Alastor!”

“Yes, dear?” He leans his full weight on you, not caring if you’re able to withstand the force of his body. “That is, indeed, my name.”

“Heavy! You’re too . . . heavy,” you wheeze out, and plant your feet on the floor. “Sweetheart, you’re going to fall!”

“Dearest, you keep forgetting who your husband is.” Alastor squeezes tighter, pressing you deeper into him with a hearty laugh. “As if I would ever let you go. We’re falling together.”

Your knees shake from the weight, and it’s that sheer will to stay upright that keeps you standing, even as Alastor goes limp in your hold.

He cradles your head in his hold, brushing the back of your neck with his thumb . . . before pushing you with his hips, knocking you over. A small groan escapes when your knees give out, and you collapse on top of Alastor, your nose hitting his chest.

There’s that small voice in your head. It fans the flames of irritation, but, well, Alastor took the brunt of the land. He cushions your body with his own, and it’s the only reason why you’re sprawled on his chest and not on the cold, hardwood, floor.

It’s simple, even when it’s not supposed to be, because all annoyance gets thrown out the window.

His eyes flutter to a close when he leans into your hand. There are no words, but everything that has to be said is already there.

Up the stairs, across the hallway, and into the bedroom, all done hand in hand.

The lights flick open and . . .oh. You and Alastor are between these walls as well.  

There it is again, that ever present, ‘two’. Two sets of pillows are tuck at the head of the bed. Two different alarm clocks facing each other on the nightstand. There’s only one blanket, but its thick corners are spread across two sides of the bed.

It’s you and him in this space. Together — as it should be. 

How were you able to endure seven years with just the traces of Alastor to accompany you through the night? It doesn’t matter, at least for tonight, not when he agreed to stay.

Alastor changes into his pajamas. It’s still in the same place it’s been for the last seven years. If he has questions about it, Alastor keeps them to himself.

You finally settle into the bed, watching Alastor crawl underneath the covers. It’s automatic, instinctive even, to press yourself into his chest.

Alastor settles a hand on your waist, pressing his cheek on the crown of your head. His thumbs go up and down and up and down, tracing small patterns into your nightgown.

You press your lips on his collarbone, and Alastor responds with a kiss to your forehead. It’s such a soft gesture that it compels you to trace your lips all over the lines of his shoulder, and hold him as close to you as possible.

There’s this nagging voice that’s fueling the need to feel him. You need to feel his skin underneath your touch. You need to feel the heat of his body, every inch of it, right now.

But that blasted shirt is getting in your way.

The buttons of his pajamas dig into your cheek. It’s annoying. So, fucking, annoying. It’s getting in the way. This blasted cloth is preventing you from fully feeling Alastor. 

You reach for the button of his shirt, but Alastor catches your wrist before you could reach the first one. “It’s annoying me,” you say, grumbling as you tug on your wrist. “I want it off.”

Alastor releases your wrist, and presses a hand to his face, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Do as you wish.”

The way he smiles drives you a little bit more insane. You start at him, blinking as you do, and rip open the buttons of his pajamas, exposing the light fluff on his chest.

Alastor crosses his arms over his chest, reeling away with a hearty laugh. “How uncouth of you, dearest.”

“Seven years and you’ve turned shy on me.” You laugh as well. “I’ve already seen every— “

Oh . . .oh.

So, that’s why Alastor tried to stop you. Scars are dime a dozen on his body, and you’ve worshipped every, single one, but that was new. There’s a long slash on his chest that obviously wasn’t there seven years ago. You’re intimate with all the marks on his body, but not this one.

You trace the scar with your lips, trailing soft kisses down the line.

“I heard what happened,” you say, whispering against the fur on his chest. A soft sigh escapes when you can finally feel the heat on his skin. “I was listening to your broadcast that day. You gave me quite the fright, Alastor.”

“I wasn’t aware you were listening.”

“I never stopped.” You press kiss after kiss after kiss on this new scar, and each word you say brushes your lips on him. “Our radios are constantly on, waiting until the static stops, and your broadcast fills the air.”

Alastor shudders underneath your attention. He tilts your chin with the tips of his fingers. Those eyes of his stare straight into yours with that oh, so soft look in him.

You press a kiss on the edge of his lips, teasing him for good fun.

Alastor huffs at you, jerking your chin to face him. His forehead rests against yours for more than a second. Chapped lips trace across your own, brushing them with such a familiar tenderness. Alastor captures your lips into a kiss.

The soft fur on his chest tickles your palms, and a small giggle escapes you. There’s fur all over your husband! He’s part deer, complete with antlers and a tail. Oh, what a silly afterlife you’re living.

Alastor snakes his arms around your waist, guiding you back towards the mattress. There’s a smile on him when he settles above you.

The kiss travels from your cheek to your lips until he’s nibbling on the bottom. It’s a silent command to part them, and one that you eagerly follow. Alastor inserts his tongue into your wet mouth, sliding it around with rhythmic swirls as he tastes the inside.

You run your hands across his shoulder and down his back. A small hum when he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and into your neck.

Alastor reaches for the straps of your nightgown, pulling it lower until your breasts are fully exposed to the dim night. His hot breath hovers above your nipple, and it tingles the sensitive skin

A small gasp escapes when Alastor latches onto your nipple, licking and nibbling around the sensitive bud. Alastor presses his shard teeth hard enough to leave a mark . . . and well, you can’t help but jump as pain morphs into a familiar pleasure that dampens your underwear further.

He detaches from your nipple with a slight pop. A thin line of saliva bridges his tongue and your breast.

And . . . huh.

When did Alastor raise your nightgown?  You weren’t aware of his fingers playing with the band of your underwear until he was tugging on it, asking for permission.

There’s a dangerous look on his face that has you clenching around nothing. A simple nod —that’s all you’re able to give. There’s nothing really else to do but give him the permission he’s been waiting for, especially as he watches you with that glint in his eyes.

Alastor’s fingers catch on the band of your underwear. He’s watching every twitch of your eyebrows, every heavy rise and fall of your breasts. Your underwear slips lower and lower.

He lifts your hips high enough that he’s able to pull the thing down your legs, and thrown somewhere irrelevant. They’re not needed for tonight, it seems.

Alastor takes your leg, worships it with soft nibbles that trail higher and higher and higher.

Your legs try to close together, but Alastor’s hold is too firm.

“Seven years, and you’ve turned shy on me.” Alastor pushes your knees even further apart. He rewards the inside of your thigh a little kiss when you don’t try to fight him. “It’s just me, cher.”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Not exactly my fault,” you grumble, kicking him a little. “It’s been . . . It’s been a while.”

His smile widens. “Then I shall refamiliarize you.”.

Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for your reply, diving straight into your folds. His wet tongue swirls between your folds with agonizing slowness. You stiffen a moan, clutching the bed sheets as he continues to lap around them.

His tongue swirls around your clit, and your legs try to close, even as a small, breathy moan escapes. Alastor presses your thighs apart with more firmness than before. He anchors a leg on your shoulder, biting down on the fat as punishment. The tips of his tongue swirl around the bite mark.

“It really has been a while.” Alastor smiles up at you, mischief in his eyes, and presses a kiss right on top of his bite. “I’ll excuse your earlier eagerness. I’ve been neglecting you for far too long.”

You try to push your nightgown a little lower. It’s funny how shy you’ve suddenly become under his gaze.

“Don’t laugh. I didn’t. . . .” The words are hard to find, especially when he marks you with another bite while waiting for a response. “Alastor, I . . . I didn’t ask you to stay for this.”

He presses on your leg, bending you when he leans closer to chase a kiss from your lips. “You seduce me with your words, and say this isn’t what you were planning from the beginning.” He licks a path up your cheek. “Yet the buttons on my shirt are broken.”

You press a hand on his chest. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Very well,” he says, laughing at you. “One word from you, and I shall stop.”

Silence.

Alastor smiles at you, and takes the silence as the answer it is. He pulls your hips closer, diving straight down to slurp the slick from your cunt. The sudden jolt of stimulation forces your back to arch, and your hand finds his head, gripping his hair a little.

Half of his face is covered, but he’s looking so intently at you that it’s hard to look away.

Your eyes close as he pulls you even closer, swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit. Small gasps escape from your mouth as Alastor inserts his tongue into you.

Alastor plays with your folds before inserting a finger. A shudder runs straight up your spine.

“A-Al . . .,” you gasp out, thighs trembling when he massages that already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Ah!”

A familiar tight coil builds its tension. So much so that you’re meeting him halfway, grinding down on his face. You’re so close. Heat travels down your stomach, tingling every nerve of your body. You need . . .

“More.” It comes out like a greedy whine. “Please . . . I’m . . . I’m so clo— Ah!”

Alastor sucks on your clit, before inserting another finger. A loud moan tears through your throat. The sound mixes with squelching of your fluids to create such an indecent sound.

These seven years have not diminished his knowledge of your body. Alastor is using everything he knows to his advantage, easily playing you like a kazoo.

There’s that look in his eyes again — that glint that promises danger. Your legs wrap around his neck, and you pull him tighter to you, cushion him with the plump of your thighs. Alastor’s smile grows wider, and he sucks harder on your clit. The coil in your belly finally, finally snaps.

Your orgasm rushes out like a flood, and Alastor laps it all up like a thirsty Sinner. The fingers around your hips dig into the skin, pulling you closer even as your bud toes that line of overstimulation.

Alastor releases your cunt, and a line of saliva connects his tongue to you. The evidence of your release stains his mouth. His tongue licks around his lips, and a pleased smile grows on his face.

“You taste really sweet, cher.” Alastor rises higher, worshiping your body with trails of kisses up your stomach. It tickles a little. He captures your lips, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing sweet about what you taste.

The tips of your nails trace this new scar, running it along the length of his chest. You’re intimately familiar with the scars painting his chest. This one won’t be different—all you need is time, and eternity offers plenty.

Your fingers trail lower, breaching the band of his pajamas to pull him out. Alastor’s cock twitches as you massage that little bit of pre-cum around his head.

His head tilts back as a moan releases from his lips, but Alastor grabs your wrist, stopping you from going any lower. “We wouldn’t want to waste it,” he says. “It would be a shame to do so.”

You squeeze the length of his cock one last time before releasing him. “Next time, then.”

“Next time.”

Alastor leans closer, trailing his nose on the expanse of your neck before pressing a kiss and nibbling on the skin. His tongue swirls around the marks his sharp teeth leave, and it almost distracts you from the way he aligns the head of his cock, swirling it around to lubricate himself.

Alastor breaches your entrance, stretching your walls with such a slow pace that you would consider it a punishment of some sort. He takes his time as if letting your walls feel every inch of him until he’s bottomed out.

“Alastor . . . wait,” you say, sighing as you feel him inside your walls, and rub on his shoulders to grab his attention. “Just . . . wait.”

Alastor jerks away, but you wrap your arms around his neck before he could fully slip out of your cunt. The sudden force of your arms causes him to collapse on top of you.

A small groan escapes both your lips when he crashes on your breast. Despite the soft cushion, there’s a distinct twitch in his eye that makes you laugh.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Alastor glances up at you, face buried between your breast, and reaches out to tuck away a bit of hair from your face.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You hold him closer, tightening your embrace to pull him deeper into your chest. The weight of him grounds you, even as the words you want to say jostles in your throat. “I just . . .”

“Then, tell me what’s on your mind,” Alastor tells you, cock still inside. “Don’t lie to me, not to me – never to me.”

The base of his hooves presses against your ankles. The fur on his chest tickles your stomach with every breath he takes. His fingers are tracing small circles on your shoulder. Everything about him shoots waves of high frequency to your skin. You’re so keenly aware of everything about it that it becomes almost overwhelming.

“It’s you, Alastor,” you say, brushing a finger across his cheek, stifling a groan when his cock throbs inside you. “You’re on my mind. It’s just . . . ”

There’s so much you want to tell him, and so much more you want him to hear. It’s Alastor who’s always had the talent with words, and it's strikingly evident how incompetent you are when the words refuse to even form. 

How do you begin to describe the heavy beating of your chest?

Instead, you trail your hand down the expanse of his arm, until you’re pulling his hand closer to your lips. One, single kiss across the ring around his finger. It holds everything you want him to hear, but do not know how to say.

Alastor’s hips buckle, driving his cock deeper into your walls. The sudden feeling of his cock stretching even further forces your nails to dig into his skin.

He chuckles a little, grunting a small apology as he presses his lips on your cheek, and then to the other side. Alastor preppers your face with his lips, kissing you just as slowly, just as tenderly as the way he entered you. It’s less hungry, and less consuming.

There’s nothing to worry about, after all. Alastor always seems to understand you better than yourself.

“I was waiting for you. That's why I was outside in the cold.” You brush your fingers across the expanse of his jaw, using the tip of your nail to tilt his chin. “You didn’t come for me.”

Alastor leans lower to chase your lips into a kiss, but you grab a fistful of the back of his hair, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You don’t come for me either.” Alastor groans as you tighten the grip on his hair, exposing his neck to you. “I put on such a grand show that day, hoping you were listening. That blasted picture box took a picture of me, and I allowed it to be taken for you, and only you.”

“I guess we were both fools waiting on each other.” You trace your fingers over the expanse of his smile. “Alastor . . .”

His smile widens. “Yes, my dear?”

“Alastor.” You press your finger into his lips, slipping into his mouth. “Alastor.”

Alastor twirls his tongue around the tip, nibbling the skin as he bobs his head. He releases your finger, and a bridge of saliva trails across. “Yes, dearest?”

The way he responds . . . it causes you to clench around him. It’s been so long, too long, since you heard him respond to your calls.

You brush your lips across his before chasing him into a kiss, moaning into it when Alastor rocks his hips into you. The way he drags his cock across your wall, slow and tender, forces you to hide your face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Alastor.” You drag your teeth across his shoulder, nipping at the skin.

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’m never leading again.”

Alastor’s hips press against yours, sliding across your walls. He inserts himself slowly, sliding with purpose as if making sure to give each and every sensitive nerve his attention.

A moan tears itself out of him when you bite down on his shoulder, just the way you know he enjoys it. He’s not the only one who’s knowledge hasn’t diminished.

Every movement he makes you keenly aware of him.

“Alastor.”

“I’m never letting you leave my side again,” Alastor says, chasing your lips into a kiss. “I’m staying right here with you, dearest.”

That wasn’t the deal, and you both know it. Just before the sun rises, Alastor will be allowed to leave and not a second before. If Alastor could already take you, he already would have done so. You know how to read between the lines. 

There’s a reason why he didn’t come for you, and that’s the very reason why you didn’t come for him, despite knowing he was calling out for you.

Right now . . . that doesn’t really matter. That same tight coil builds around you. Alastor pounds waves of pleasure into you, playing you like one of his instruments, and you sing into the air for him. The squelching sounds accompany your voice like a symphony.

“You and me, and me and you – for eternity.” Alastor holds you closer, hitting that sensitive spot. “I’m done breaking my vow.”

The words he whispered into your ear are the final nail to the coffin. You pull him even closer to you as the coil of pleasure snaps, shooting frequencies as you come undone in his arms.

Alastor chases his own release, practically rutting himself inside with sloppy strokes. You run your hands down his sweat-stricken back, feeling the fur that runs along his skin. You reach for the base of his tail, squeezing it between your fingers.

His cock spasms inside, shooting seeds to paint you with the evidence of his pleasure. The sound he makes causes you to clamp down on him.

There’s a distinct glare in his eyes as he continues to draw himself out, but none of you can deny that it’s his cum that’s slipping out your cunt, and mixing with the pool of fluids below.

It takes a moment, but your breathings eventually calm as you search for it. Alastor only pulls you closer, even as he softens inside. You press kiss along his face, laughing as Alastor’s breath tickles your skin.

“My dearest, Alastor.” You press a kiss on the edge of his lips. “Will you keep answering me?”

“As long as you keep calling for me,” he says, tracing your lips with a smile, “I’ll never stop answering you.”

The rest of the night goes something like this: tangled limbs under the covers, and gentler caresses with even gentler kisses. Eventually, soft snores replace hushed whispers of conversation.

The night ends.

The sun rises above the horizon, and . . . and well, it rises to two sleeping bodies who hold each other oh, so softly.

[safination]

I will drag you to 2026 if I have to.

Vexi Rambles

Happy New Year! As the calendar turns, I can’t help but reflect on everything this past year brought—what I achieved, what I stumbled on, and what I could have done better. It’s a mix of pride, regret, and a whole lot of laughter when I think back on it all.

Back in the summer of 2024, I made a deal with myself: after finishing my long-running series Caught (which is now hilariously getting a full rewrite because, apparently, we love self-inflicted pain) and hitting the milestone of 100 fanfiction stories, I’d gracefully bow out.

My plan was simple: hang up my writing hat, settle into my *exciting* insurance job, and live a "normal" life. You know, maybe have a kid or two, clock in, clock out, and just… exist.

Fast forward to now—I’m at 60+ stories, and let me tell you, I didn’t expect to get here so fast. Less than a year! Back then, 100 stories felt like climbing a mountain in... kill heels. But here I am, speeding toward that finish line, thanks in no small part to my amazing writing friends who make the journey feel a little less lonely and a lot more fun.

So, will I actually quit after hitting 100 stories? Honestly, I'm not sure. Writing has become such a big part of my life, and I genuinely love it. Sure, the "normal" life is still out there waiting for me, but let’s be real—what’s life without dabbling into your creative side? Just thought I’d share this little slice of my brain with you all as we kick off another year.

Let's see what 2025 has in store for us. 💖

[safination]

Im going to bring the soju. Specially the grape flavor

Moot Sleepover Starting Now

@a-fucking-tornado

@silentlydying

@fairyb0ii

@tori-spring12

@survivingmyownlife

@spir4nts-lun4r

@back-totheoldhouse

@aloserwholikesheartstopper

@moomoomwahaha

@xoxonxo