#human alastor smut

[jazzmasternot]

It’s gotten bad

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

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

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

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

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

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [TOUCH STARVED]

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A/N: Photo/Fanart Credit to @/Nyer_roth on Twitter (hiatus)

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM/CAT HYBRID DEMON READER ]

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Touch Starved Alastor prefers your presence over anyone else’s in the Hotel. His shadows linger by your side if he’s not physically there and when he is it’s quite obvious to everyone how closely the Radio Demon is guarding you.

No one dares to breathe a word about his behavior but the moment he’s out of sight or ear shot Angel will tease you endlessly. “Seems you have Mr. Fancy Creep wrapped round your little finger, toots.” Your face flushes ten shades of red as the spider demon nudges your side while giggling at your flustered reaction. He knows -well everyone knows how you feel about Alastor- but you’ve made it a point to never let the overload onto your attraction to him.

Even if he already is aware of it…

Angel’s teasing doesn’t help your little crush dissolve as you wished it would, so with a huff and a rushed whisper you excuse yourself from the group. “N-no I don’t Angel and…I’m heading to bed. Goodnight…” Angle snickers at your deliberate deflecting, but says nothing else as you waltz up the staircase, barely listening to Charlie yelling “good night” to you, and failing to notice the dark mass of spectrums trailing your every step.

Touch Starved Alastor listens in on those pesky conversations the others have when it comes to you and him. You’re always so skittish and docile under their prying, blushing at the slightest implication of his attention being on you, and to say it intrigues him would be an understatement. Alastor isn’t one to entertain those who show him affection, let alone acknowledge it, but when it comes to you the overload’s mind runs rampant with devious desires. At first he ignores them, content with keeping your connection to him cordial, and that works for a time.

It doesn’t last forever though.

Especially when you unconsciously tend to him so reverently. You’re a people pleaser by nature -he’s sure of that- but the immediate stars in your eyes whenever he instructs you to do something strikes just the right nerve for him.

It’s always the simplest things, tedious tasks he burdens you with just to see your eagerness to please him on repeat, “My dear, would you be so kind as to hand me that book over there?” Your head lifts, hopeful eyes staring at him as you nod with a genuine smile, “Of course!” You chirp, walking right over to the bookshelf without question to acquire the item, and Alastor watches your every move.

The flutter of your lashes as you pinpoint the object, how you stand on your tip toes to reach it, and the gentle sway of your hair as you finally grasp the book. You’re so sweet, so gentle with everything, and Alastor spends hours trying to stop himself from thinking about your tender embrace being spared his way.

Touch Starved Alastor starts to lock himself in his room or radio tower more often than usual when he can’t seem to keep his distance. His shadows still lord over you but are never seen which makes it that much easier for him to watch you from afar.

His sudden disappearance and lack of socializing affects you heavily. You don’t smile as much and when you do the light in your eyes wanes. You’re still kind to everyone, but choose to sit alone during group activities, or wander the halls humming to avoid them all together.

Alastor takes notice of every frown adorning your face when someone mentions him or inquires as to where he is and for a split second guilt creeps its way into him seeing your energetic mood dwindle at his hands.

He can’t let this go on forever, not when you look so betrayed at the sound of his name, and mindlessly wander towards his empty room every night as if to check on him just to leave in fear of embarrassment.

Enough is enough.

Touch Starved Alastor finds you alone on a rare stormy night in Hell, an old book opened up to your curious eyes as you lay flat on your front across the parlor’s couch. He watches you from the shadows for a long while, studying the slight scrunch of your nose as your gaze happens open a certain line of text, and the way you gently kick your feet as your chin rests on the back of your hands.

He’s seen and met a mass amount of beings in his time in hell and not one has ever emitted anything close to your ethereal beauty. You swear you’re not a fallen angel to anyone who asks and it baffles him how a soul so light could end up here.

Unruly luck….maybe?

Fate, possibly?

He’ll figure it out one way or another.

“Hello, my dear, late night reading I see…” Alastors voice grasps your attention immediately, his usual staticky tone leaning towards normality as you peer up at him with a growing smile. “Yes…I couldn’t sleep,” you respond quietly, relatively shy around the overload, and trying hard not to seem overexcited to see him. You missed Alastor dearly the past few days but it would be embarrassing to show that longing outright….

The deer demon picked up on your excitement right away despite your attempts at casualness, his smile softening as you held his stare and bit your lip. Delicate fanged canines poking out just enough to prick your lower lip.

How adorable, Alastor inwardly muses at your nervous habit and continues with his light hearted interrogation. “Hm, I suppose a restless night can have that effect. ..Would you mind if I joined you then, darling?”

Touch Starved Alastor is elated when you nod gently, shifting to sit up properly, and give him a space beside you. “Of course Alastor…it gets lonely staying up by yourself. I’d appreciate the company.” Your sweet tone dazes him for a moment as he sits next to you, unconsciously disregarding his aversion to interpersonal space…

Odd…

He never situates himself this close to you, always looming, but never actively seeking your side. It’s strange to you at first but as he visibly relaxes you don’t mind the deliberate position he’s taken.

He could very well be tired or you might be hallucinating that he was putting an arm around your shoulders.

Either option didn’t ease the rapid pace of your heartbeat..

Alastor was careful with you, incredibly gentle as he pulled you to his side, and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Such a sweetheart you are, my dear.” He speaks quietly, oddly calm as you hum in agreement, your soft ears flattening as you breathe in his scent.

A smidge of brimstone mixed with the aroma bourbon and pine.

He smelled just like a lovely forest, a secure scent you wouldn’t mind getting used to, and tried to commit it to memory just in case Alastor never let you get this close to him again.

Touch Starved Alastor chuckles lowly when you breathe him in, finding your feline tendencies endearing, and listening to your soft purring become a vocal indicator of how comfortable you felt with him. You’d long forgotten the book, nuzzling your head under Alastor’s chin instead, getting lost in your innocent desire to be under him, and he makes no move to stop you.

If anything the radio demon welcomes your touch, sliding you onto his lap with ease, and that never ending smile of his becoming genuine when you absentmindedly compliment him. “…You smell…sweet,” you hum, speaking more to yourself than him, but he hears you and responds promptly. “Is that so, darling?”

You nod, head lifting to stare up at him through your lashes, “Mhm…I missed it..I…” you pause, face flushing red as the deer demon peers back at you, red eyes glinting with dormant affection as he studies your expressions.

“Come now, use your words dear…” he reassures you his patience isn’t waning with a gentle hum.

Alastor is tempted to watch your plush lips move as you struggle to speak up but it’s hard to resist when you finally whisper a confession -one you think he’ll be off put by…

“W-well I missed you entirely Alastor… a lot actually.” And there you go again, eyes wide with apprehensive hope, and ever present adoration. He’d felt his fair share of adrenaline rushes, experienced the “blood rushing to your head” urges that sinners and demons alike couldn’t resist, and though Alastor prided himself in remaining in control of such things…

You brought them out of him without even trying.

Ridiculous, truly…but the longer you fawned over him the less cordiality Alastor maintained.

Touch Starved Alastor lets his smile soften, deeply appreciating your timid vulnerability, and much to your relief he lets you know it. “Missed me? Well, I must have quite the effect on you to instill such a sentiment,” His tone is abundantly softer than usual, quietly echoing in the hotels parlor, and tickling the nerves in your ears.

They perk up along with your tail as he rests his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly close until the only proper place you can latch your hands onto is the back of the carved mahogany frame of the couch. “Al…” you sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on you tightens a tad in response.

When had he gotten so touchy? Better yet, why?

All logical questions that you were asking yourself weren’t granted answers as the overlord inhaled heavily. Breathing you in just as you’d done to him moments ago.

Your unsteady pulse, rising lust, slight confusion, and underlying fear of him coursing through your veins in waves. Alastor identified each emotion, practically tasting them on his tongue, and his hunger rose again from it.

He could just eat you alive at this rate and from the whine you let out as he trailed his hands down to your thighs, claws ripping right through the sheer white thigh high socks you’d paired with a modestly short nightgown made it abundantly clear to him you wouldn’t mind if he did.

How sweet you’d taste?

How the shaky whines you were letting out now could turn to bashful screams?

How sickeningly perfect you’d look broken, bloody, and marked by him and him alone?

He’d wondered about these things constantly…feverishly…

Touch Starved Alastor lets his mirage of being a “true gentleman” dissipate entirely when you subconsciously roll your hips down on him for much needed friction -and in an attempt to dissolve the pain his scratches on your skin brought.

Fuck. This. Alastor curses himself, swiftly repositioning you both in a blink of an eye. Your back hits the velvet cushions with a gentle ‘thud’, earning a soft gasp on your part that’s inevitably silenced by one of his shadows wrapping around your mouth, and another gingerly snaking round your waist. He chuckles as you squirm underneath him, clearly wanting to be in control of your own body, but what would you ever need that autonomy for?

He’s here for a reason, right?

Why grant you more agency than required?

“Comfortable, my dear?” The leering stag above you chides, grin wide as you groan in frustration, eyes sliding shut as he slips between your parted legs. His red irises show brighter as your lower halves press flush against each other and you shudder from the contact -inwardly congratulating yourself for not wearing much underneath your nightdress to begin with.

Alastor allowed your hands to reach for him, your delicate claws gripping his suit collar as firmly as possible, tugging him lower as you shifted under his weight to grind against him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he half reprimands half teases as your bare slit passes over the crotch of his black dress pants. There was no doubt your slick was leaving a stain and if it were anyone else -in any other situation- Alastor would’ve had their head for ruining his attire.

Luckily, you were to receive anything but his wrath.

How fortunate…

Touch Starved Alastor feels himself going mad when you mindlessly use any part of him you can reach as a bid for more pleasure. Eyes watering, begging him to touch you, help you, and it’s one hell of a sight to see in his opinion. “Desperate aren’t we, darling?” His cooing drives you insane, large hands wandering under your nightgown to trace your warm skin -not helping your dazed state at all.

Alastor purposefully claws at your body, placing surface level scars on it, letting the small droplets of blood that escape his cuts paint your skin and his fingertips. You struggle every soften, train of thought lagging as pain and pleasure start to intertwine.

“….please don’t stop..”

“What a sick & twisted little thing you are..”

Tears run down your face, drool dripping from the corner of your lips, and your cunt leaking all over him and sofa. Blood starts to seep through your nightdress in random streaks and it’s only then that Alastor decide it’s redundant to keep it on you. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” That’s all the warning you get from the radio demon before you feel his claws shred it to pieces.

Thank heavens you hadn’t chosen your favorite one tonight or you’d be devastated…

“Much, much better, ma chère,” Alastor praises you as if the task was at your own hands -and to some degree it was for letting him get this far- and yet your face flushes a deep shade of red as you nod in agreement.

The shadowy tentacle covering your mouth tightens its grip, shifting sharply to expose your neck to him, and Alastor seizes the opening immediately. Taking his time finding your sensitive spots, marking them with his teeth and tongue until there’s dark bruises left behind, and you nearly came undone from the relentless precision of love bites he inflicts on you.

Touch Starved Alastor allows your hands wander wherever they please, quite taken with the feeling of your dainty claws raking down his back, or shifting up to pet his ears. They flicker about at your touch, ever so sensitive, and heightening the pleasure he gets from torturing you. Every sound you make, the shuddering moans against his lips, and the muffled cries that build in your chest when Alastor toys with you muddles his focus further.

Bit by bit you’re chipping away at his sanity by simply enjoying his caress and offering him yours.

Alastor isn’t one to succumb to pleading easily but when you’re given the chance to use your voice and beg for release without a second thought….he hasn’t got the gall to deny you.

Not when you’re looking up at him like you might die if he denies you, so worked up that you stutter, and shake uncontrollably.

“N-need to….p-please let me…come,” you whine as quietly as possible, ears laying flat on your head as he hums melodically in false consideration for your plight.

It’s fueling his already massive ego that you’re poised to come undone when he’s barely done a thing to you and he has half the mind to pull away and watch you fall to pieces…

You’d surely give him a show then, pouting helplessly, or cowering from embarrassment realizing how much of a mess you’ve made of yourself for him.

It’d be pure entertainment.

However, why waste a prime opportunity to see you utterly satisfied by him?

By his mere presence even.

The deer demon refuses to pass up such a rare occurrence, flipping your position again so your smaller frame sits atop his larger one. “F-fuck..” you hiss as you settle on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he guides your hips to keep riding him at a rough but languid pace. Alastor observes you above him for a long moment, smile widening when your hair falls in front of your bright eyes, and your hands splay across his chest to keep yourself steadily upright.

The scratches he’s left on you are still fresh, mixing with the tears that flow down your face, and your arousal pitifully dribbling down your inner thighs as well.

Exactly how he pictured you time and time again.

“You may,” he finally exhales, static completely gone from his voice, and hearing it elicits a newfound spark of heat in your core. Your legs shake involuntarily, hips stuttering in tight circles over his clothed erection as you chased your high. Alastor watches you intently, tonguing his cheek to keep from groaning, and his body running hotter than usual as your cunt drags against him.

Touch Starved Alastor can’t fathom how a soul as tender as yours can dwindle to filth in the midst of cumming. Head lulling at an angle while your back arches just right to define your silhouette in the dark room.

The coil in your stomach snaps faster than you can gauge a reaction. A scream threatening to leap from your chest as it washed over you, but his shadows return, clasping tight enough to muffle it. “Easy, my dear…you wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hm?” Alastor bucks his hips upward to make his point clear and you visibly jolt from the overstimulation he causes.

It was clear he needed his end met too and that brought a grin to your face as his shadows receded from your lips when you quieted down. “No…” you sigh, inching a hand lower to trace over the rise in his pants. Alastor stiffens under your touch, nearly snarling when you palm him slowly, eyes never leaving his as you do. Tempting and sweet as always, “Careful, Mon Cher,” he warns, voice thick with allure.

He’d only come to seek a warm body to torment, assuming he’d take care of his own needs later, but you -the ever so caring sinner you were- seemed intent to shoulder the task now.

You licked your lips, tongue grazing your fangs as your peered down at him defiantly with a warm smile, “M’ not one of your little puppets…” Alastor raised a brow at that, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned forward, “….and I never will be.” You finish your statement, smiling wider before lowering yourself down his body. He lets you do as you please, stuck between observing, and enjoying the attention you give him.

It’s very rare to see the overload so willing to be tested, but you made your stance clear with a singular lick up his clothed length with the softest smile on your lips. “Fuck…” he groans then, static nonexistent again as you playfully repeated the action until he became agitated enough to fist a handful of your hair and drag you back up to face him.

“It’s not very polite to tease, sweetheart.”

You smirk and reach for his belt, skillfully undoing it without breaking eye contact, feigning humility through half lidded eyes“Then would you be so kind as to correct my manners then?”

“It’d be my pleasure, darling,”

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My head was all over the place with this one ❤️ I need some sleep…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s a literal walking red flag 🚩 and unfortunately my favorite color is red 😭 Credits to the creator 🖤

[lurochar]

By the Full Moon

18+ MDNI

The Radio Demon finds a spell to go back in time to reacquaint himself with his wife. His past human self is more than willing to help.

Demon Alastor x Reader x Human Alastor

Warnings: Demon Alastor mainly referred to as Radio Demon to differentiate between human Alastor. Established relationship between Alastor and Reader. OOCness. PWP. Aphrodisiacs. Lame title. Basically pure indulgence here. I haven't written anything in a while and smut even longer, so I apologize if it's bad.

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You were worried.

Truthly speaking, you had no reason to worry as Alastor was more than capable of taking care of himself and even more so since he had his hunting rifle with him and more than likely his hunting knife, but you just could not help yourself.

After all, that murderer now labeled the Bayou Butcher was still on the loose and law enforcement had no clue as to who the killer was.

It was a silly worry since Alastor was still on the property simply storing away his hunting rifle in the shed a little ways from the main house, but it seemed like he was taking far too long to do so.

You could not help but to pace near the front door, knowing that once Alastor finally came back, he would just give you his signature smile and laugh at your apprehension all while calming your nerves down with a single stroke down the side of your cheek with his thumb.

‘He’s fine.’ You thought, breathing in deeply as you attempted to calm your pacing. ‘There's no need to worry like this. He will be back any moment.’ You nodded your head with your thoughts, finally able to stop your body from your frantic movements.

And it was only a few minutes later that you heard the key to the front door being inserted before it swung open and you instantly perked up. “Alastor!” You called out to your husband in relief, quickly moving towards him, your mind registering the radio static in the air before your body did and you abruptly froze, watching stunned as not one, but a second figure entered the house.

“Darling! I apologize for taking so long!” Alastor opened his arms, wrapping them around you and observing you closely as you trembled like an adorable newborn fawn, just as he – they expected you would. “I didn’t expect to meet such fine company outside our humble little abode here! Such a riveting conversation we had!”

Red eyes stared hungrily into yours.

“I–” You stammered, shakily peering over Alastor’s broad shoulder to look at the… otherworldly being currently standing in you and your husband’s house. “W-what– w-who is that?” You could not help the tremble in your voice.

“Hmmm,” Alastor stroked your hair, seemingly trying to find the right words. “Funny enough, this gentleman’s name is also Alastor. Isn't that just a neat coincidence?” 

“What?” You looked to Alastor weakly, knowing his name was not exactly the most common of names out there. “But that’s…”

“Do excuse my rude manners,” the ‘other’ Alastor suddenly spoke and his voice possessed the exact same tone, accent, and cadence as when your Alastor spoke on air on the radio, “but I simply had to stop when I noticed your lovely house, my dear! Why, it looks the exact same as the home I once owned many years ago! So I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced like this.” He began to move closer and you shivered in your husband’s hold, “It’s a pleasure, quite the pleasure, my little Doe. I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon.”

.

.

.

What!?!?

“D-demon?” You swallowed thickly, tightening your grip in Alastor’s coat as you took in the ‘Radio Demon’s’ features. He certainly was not human, that was for sure and with those tall ears (and tiny antlers?), you almost wanted to say he was almost deer-like, but those utterly massive fangs, razor-sharp claws, and terrifying smile had you second guessing yourself.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Alastor murmured in your ear. “A demon straight from Hell, he says. Who would have thought Hell actually existed?” He chuckled, but you barely heard a word he said.

A demon.

A demon was standing in your house.

A demon named Alastor.

“W-wha…” You faltered, whimpering when the Radio Demon stepped in front of you and in your personal space before you could even respond. “W-what’s happening?”

“You have no idea, my darling Y/N, how long I’ve waited for this.” Demon Alastor’s tipped your face upwards with his deadly claws rather gently to get you to look at his face (and wow, was he ever so very tall), “How many decades it took for me to find a spell that could break the laws of time, just so I could see you again.”

Your mind was racing, but ultimately, could not keep up with the situation.

Decades? Spells? Laws of time? Demons? Hell? 

What was all of this? Did you fall asleep waiting for Alastor to come back and were just having some bizarre dream? 

“It's not a dream, my love.” Alastor seemed to know what you were thinking as he began to nuzzle the crook of your neck. “I didn't quite believe it either, but he knows things about me that none other could, including you.”

“T-Then you're saying–” You could not even finish your words and you jumped when the Radio Demon's claws tightened around your cheeks, not enough to cause pain but enough to get your immediate attention. “T-that you… you’re–!”

“Figured it out, my darling Doe?” The Radio Demon’s grin stretched inhumanly wide. “I'm sure you have, you always were quite clever, my dear, but in case you haven't…”

Your heart pounded.

“Yes, I am Alastor Hartfelt, your husband. A denizen of Hell for decades now, though I have done well if I do say so for myself. I am a Demon Overlord, the Radio Demon. The year, I believe, was 2024 when I last checked.”

2024?!?

Alastor whistled lowly from your shoulder as you gaped in disbelief at the Radio Demon in front of you.

Was he really saying that he came back in time by almost a century?! 

How was any of this even possible?

“You shouldn't be this baffled, Darling.” Alastor spoke, moving from your shoulder to kiss your cheek. “I, too, would do anything to find my way back to you, even break the laws of time and space. So why wouldn't my future dead self do the same?”

Wait.

“Am I not there with you?”

The Radio Demon chuckled, his hand now affectionately caressing the side of your face. “Perhaps you missed the part about my being in Hell?” His hand slowly slid down your body to your hip, causing you to shiver. “My darling Doe, you do not reside in Hell and have no place in it.”

A sudden surge of bravery rushed through you. “Then why are you there? You're a good man, Alastor! A perfect husband! Why would you get sent to… to Hell?!”

Alastor tightened his arms around you from behind and the Radio Demon squeezed down on your hip at the question.

“The spell will only last for the night as long as the moon is full on Earth.” The Radio Demon’s smile looked tense and his fangs were gritting. “I would much prefer getting reacquainted with my lovely wife than with frivolous chatter.”

And even if he did answer, he did not intend to leave your memories of this night intact.

This was not his preferred method, but he knew his Y/N would not let the topic of either Alastor’s fate go, so there was no other choice lest he allow the night waste away.

Alastor caught the eye of his past human self and nodded, having discussed this back at the shed where they had met as a possible option should it need to be one.

It was crude and vulgar, but Alastor was desperate with the need to touch your flesh once more and if he had to kick start things with a light aphrodisiac (one not made by the Vees), he would.

Your Alastor slowly reached into his pocket, slipping out a vial of clear liquid. He carefully uncapped it while you trembled against him, repeating your question in apparent shock at the knowledge that your husband was destined for Hell.

“Ma chérie.” Your Alastor turned you to face him before he downed the contents of the vial and immediately kissed you after. He glanced up to see his demon self step up behind you, caging you in between them so you could not back away from his kiss.

You let out a strange noise, feeling Alastor's tongue swipe in your mouth as you unconsciously opened your lips for him and a sweet liquid seeped in that you had no choice but to swallow.

Oh.

You were suddenly warm.

Your body was hot.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire.

“W-w-what’s this?” You babbled, completely forgetting about Hell as you began to ache between your legs, “H-hah…”

“It’s alright, Darling.” Alastor was quick to come to your comfort, rubbing your shoulders and even that innocent touch sent sparks of pleasure straight down to your core. “Just let it happen and everything will be fine.”

“I must admit, it is not my proudest idea.” The Radio Demon seemed to sigh from behind you, his large claw-tipped hands back firmly on your hips. “Surely you understand, my little Doe, that it needed to be done. You were much too tense and I only have hours to spare.”

Your head was fuzzy and you honestly did not understand a damn word of what either Alastor was saying.

You just wanted relief and the ache to leave.

“Don't worry your pretty little head about anything right now.” Alastor cooed, “I would take care of you, but I'm sure our guest here has been waiting for so very long now.” He smirked. “I'll join in a little later.”

“I can smell you, my dear.” The Radio Demon purred, his hands moving from your hips as he ran a single claw up the side of your dress, ripping through it with ease and you could not find it in yourself to care about the ruined dress at the moment. “You're dripping. Naughty girl.”

Had you been in your right mind, you would have been completely embarrassed by such a thing, and you let out a pathetic little whine when the Radio Demon began to kneel in front of you, with his massive hands gripping your soft inner thighs.

Your underwear was ripped off a second later and you did not see the Radio Demon pocketing the arousal-soaked cloth before he turned back to you.

“Ah, it's been decades since I've eaten one in this way.” The Radio Demon hummed, releasing one thigh to slowly slide his hand up to your leaking core. He found your clit with ease, slowly rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb, extremely mindful of his claw, “Though, of course, you are the only one I have done such things with.”

You cried out at the touch, feeling like a jolt of electricity had just run through you. “P-please!” You sniffled, unsure what to call this being - Alastor or Radio Demon?

The Radio Demon grinned up at you and you were too lost in arousal to flinch back at the sight of those fangs, “Please what, my little fawn? Use your words.”

“Eat me.”

The Radio Demon groaned. “You know me too well without even seeing the entire picture.” He surged forward, abandoning your clit momentarily to part your folds before taking in a deep intoxicated breath.

You bit down on your hand, trying to keep your yelps and moans down as the Radio Demon shoved his face in your pussy, his rather long tongue fucking up into your soaked hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, sparking pleasureable warmth throughout your lower half. 

“Now, now. None of that.” Alastor came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. “I– we both want to hear you.”

The Radio Demon crooned, pressing his face closer, feeling his wife tremble against him, “That's it. Cum on my tongue. I would like to get to the main course as quickly as possible.”

You shook, feeling Alastor's hands cup your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples as he nibbled on the lobe of your ear while the Radio Demon slurped your slick and suckled your sensitive nub.

A strangled sound left you when one of Alastor’s hands trailed down your side, sliding down your stomach before he slid a finger into your soaking cunt, bending his finger just so he would hit that spot that had you seeing stars and cumming far too early to be normal after a few more jabs to that spot.

The Radio Demon eagerly lapped up your gush of slick, not stopping even as you began to shudder from overstimulation.

“Does it feel good, chérie?” Alastor asked with a flush rising on his own face as his wife writhed in his hold while the Radio Demon did not relent in his own assault. He humped up against you, reaching down to his belt and zipper to free his aching cock. 

“S'good.” You slurred, panting when you felt Alastor slide in another finger, scissoring them to stretch you. “Alastor.” You sighed, leaning against him as you reached down.

“You needn't worry about me.” Alastor inhaled sharply once you wrapped your soft hands around his length. “Darling, this is about you.”

“I want you.” You moaned, your fingers fondling the head of his cock, spreading his precum down the length of his shaft. “I-if he really is you,” it took everything out of you just to string a coherent sentence together, “I want you both.”

“You heard our darling little Doe.” The Radio Demon finally pulled away from your cunt as he eyed his past mortal self, “As much as I hunger to do so, I cannot prepare Y/N properly without the potential of injury.”

Just a glance towards those sharp claws was an answer enough.

Alastor wasted no time and pushed in a third finger, jamming them against that sweet spot of yours and you cried out, no longer able to focus on your husband’s pleasure, though he did not mind at all.

 “What a face you’re making, Darling,” he murmured into your ear, “Not a single thought in your head, is there? Are you drooling on yourself?” His eyes darkened as his sadistic side began to show and, finally, he was able to slide in a fourth finger, “Do you know how fucked out you look right now? If that wasn’t me in front of you, I would have had to kill him for seeing you like this.”

It was fine, saying such things as you were not coherent enough to even understand him right now and the Radio Demon would take your memories of this night away anyway.

“Four fingers? My my, how debauched you are, my sweet Doe.” The Radio Demon was at your other ear, whispering just as filthy things as Alastor was, “You can take it, can’t you? You are my– our wife, after all. All you need to do is let go and cum on your husband’s fingers and then you can have all the cock you want, for the rest of the night.” He reached down, finding your clit and only needing to stroke the bud twice before you reached your high.

Your mouth could not even form words as your wet slick pussy contracted rhythmically around Alastor’s fingers, trying to milk them as you blacked out for the briefest of moments. Your limbs were like jelly and the only reason you did not collapse was because Alastor had propped you against his body.

“Still in there, my love?” Alastor patted your sweaty face, smiling when your glazed eyes fluttered open and you whimpered when he slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping hole, “You’ve done wonderfully thus far.”

“I–” It took so much just to think, “I want to–to…” Why couldn’t you think of the words to say? Your body was still burning even after cumming twice and that felt a bit frightening to you.

“As I said, you don’t need to worry about me. I have you to myself every night.” Alastor repeated, glancing over your head, allowing a lazy smirk to appear on his face, “But if you really want to repay the favour, I’m sure our guest would be delighted.” He just shrugged when the Radio Demon narrowed his red eyes at him.

You turned your head and peered timidly at the Radio Demon. The static in the air seemed to grow louder the longer you stared and his smile only seemed to stretch even wider.

“I'll even help you.” Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist and slung your arm around his shoulders, making sure you were steady, even as your legs shook like a newborn fawn’s as he guided you to stand in front of the Radio Demon.“Here you are.” He was quick to remove his overcoat, placing it on the floor for the comfort of his dear wife’s knees.

“This is unnecessary.” The Radio Demon stated, though the changes to his body said differently – his sclera turning pitch black, his antlers quickly extending outwards. He had to forcibly stop his body from growing larger, knowing his wife's human body would not be able to take anymore than what he was now.

“Please.” You kneeled in front of the Radio Demon, still a bit wary of him, but the aphrodisiac still running through you won over anything else, “You… you're still my Alastor, right?” Your hands shook as you attempted to loosen the belt of the Radio Demon.

“Yes, in life and in death. I am always yours.” The Radio Demon's usual filtered tone disappeared for a moment as he ripped off his belt with ease and he pulled his pants down low enough that his cock could spring free.

You leaned into him, feeling his hands run through your hair in a gentle gesture before they were gone from your head. You straightened on your knees, reaching up and feeling yourself jump a little in shock the moment you realized you couldn't fully wrap your hand around the Radio Demon's cock.

Was everything that much bigger when one was sent to Hell?

“Think nothing of it, my little Doe.” The Radio Demon cooed down at you, “I am completely content if you only wish to suck on my cock - the part that fits in your sweet little mouth, that is. I will not fuck your throat.”

The dull ache between your legs seemed to roar back to life at his words and you moved forward, opening your mouth, feeling the Radio Demon step a little closer until the head of his cock was resting on your tongue.

Your lips closed around his glans, your tongue prodded at the slit and you heard the Radio Demon growl as the static grew louder. Your head moved forward, wondering how much you could fit in your mouth before you started gagging.

“No, no.” Large hands on each side of your head stopped you from going further, “Do not test my self control, my dear. I said you may only suck. You are much too fragile for me to fuck that delicate throat of yours.”

You look up at the Radio Demon, barely noticing in your lustful haze that his pupils have shifted into a shape that resembled radio dials as you tightened your lips around the impressive cock in your mouth and sucked hard.

It was utterly obscene and Alastor watched with fascination as large amounts of saliva seeped from the crevices from your lips to drool down all over the Radio Demon's shaft, your jaw and chin, only to land on your chest in sticky globs. The static from the Radio Demon could not drown out the sloppy wet slurps of your tongue.

“That's it. Thaaaat's it.” The Radio Demon purred, “Such a lovely wife I have, so willing to suck the cock of her demon husband. Even wanting me to fuck my cock down her throat. How filthy! Are you truly that desperate for my seed? Suck harder, my dear.”

You tried, tightening your lips, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as best as you could until your jaw ached. You wanted to bob your head to make it a little easier, but the Radio Demon’s hands made it impossible to move. You began to hum, hoping the vibrations would aid you in getting him off.

“My sweet fawn. So depraved, just for me. Salivating all over yourself like a dog to please me.” One of his hands moved down to stroke at your cheek. “You are doing exceptionally well, such a good girl for me. Keep your mouth open.”

Your face burned at the Radio Demon’s words as you gasped for air when he pulled back from you, though you kept your mouth slack as he asked and found yourself shuddering when thick loads of cum landed on your tongue and didn’t seem to stop.

The Radio Demon watched with greedy eyes as you struggled with the volume of his seed, having to swallow a few times over and even then, remnants dripped off your lips towards your chest, “I should punish you for wasting a part of me that no other will ever have, my dear, but there is no time for that this night.” His grin widened, “Perhaps, should the spell work on the next full moon…” He tucked himself back into his pants, though didn't bother zipping them back up.

“I admit I never thought I would witness such a sight.” Alastor stepped forward from his position of observation, kneeling down as he reached for his handkerchief from his pocket and began to gently wipe your face from the cum and drool. “I certainly was not opposed to it.” He said quickly to reassure you when your eyes seemed to widen.

The Radio Demon did mention that the aphrodisiac would wear off once you took semen in your body. How fast it would diminish depended on how much semen you took in, in a certain amount of time.

“While I’m sure our guest appreciated the appetizers, I’m sure he is starved for the main course.” Alastor uncaringly tossed the dirtied handkerchief to the floor, helping you stand. “We would be such rude hosts to make him wait any longer.”

“I– of course.” You replied, looking towards the Radio Demon with a little less hesitancy than before, “You know where our… our bedroom is?” You asked almost shyly.

“I remember every single detail of this house as if I lived in it just yesterday,” The Radio Demon’s smile softened for a split second before it sharpened once more and he offered you his hand, “Shall we, then? You may want to close your eyes for this.”

You took it reluctantly, unsure what he meant by that last statement. You felt Alastor rub your back as he nestled you up to his side and you let out a shocked gasp as you all seemed to sink down in the floor into a void of black before emerging only a moment later right in front of your bed, “W-what was that!?” Your nerves weren’t burning as hot as they were earlier, but that strange sensation certainly was not helping your dizzied mind.

“Fascinating.” Alastor simply said under his breath.

“Instant shadow travel.” The Radio Demon answered nonchalantly, “It really is nothing to be impressed by.” He turned back to you, not wanting you to get distracted now that your mind was a bit clearer, “Darling Y/N, why don’t I show you how much I truly missed you over the decades?”

Your eyes unconsciously teared up at that.

The Radio Demon stalked forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the mattress. He took in the lovely sight of his wife spread on what used to be his bed before he was caging you in with his much larger body, “Every single night, whether or not I sleep, I think of you, dream of you. How exasperating that I still pine for you even after all these years, but I suppose you were the only one I felt any affection for – l̵̨͔̗̩̯̮͔̜̋̎́̃̐ͩ̓ͦo̿͂v̸̷̳̬̭̝͔͍͙͈̇̌̈́͟e̞̰̩̋̂̚͝ even – after Mother died.”

He could confess this much, as you would not remember this when it was time for him to leave.

“So you really are me.” Alastor murmured from the side of the bed, slowly undoing his tie, “That’s right. Y/N was there from the start – what do the masses call it, childhood lovers or such nonsense? It was only Y/N. None other would do.” He almost scoffed at his next thought. “Maybe soulmates do exist after all.”

“If you really are Alastor,” your arms rose and you placed your hands on both sides of his face and his entire expression softened and his smile wobbled, “then I'm so sorry that I'm causing you any pain.” A tear slid down your face from your already watery eyes. “I'm sure there are many…uhh, demons who are interes–” A claw-tipped finger pressed against your lips, cutting you off from what you were about to say.

“Even parted, what remains of my cold dead heart still beats for you, my lovely wife. I will never stray.” The Radio Demon leaned down to lick the tear from your cheek, causing you to shudder.

“Even if we wanted to fool around,” Alastor was now unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time to undress, “which, Darling, I can assure you, we do not, our bodies are simply not interested in any other. Woman, man – it doesn't matter how attractive they may be, if it's not you, I cannot get aroused. I'm sure it's the same for our guest.”

You felt your face flush and wanted to hide from the embarrassingly sweet words, but you were trapped under the Radio Demon, who was staring down intently at your reaction.

“You know I love you, Alastor! I have since we were children!” You tried to cover your face, but the Radio Demon grasped your wrists before you could.

He settled more on top of you, aligning your lower bits as he ground his clothed erection against your slick sensitive skin. “Say it again.” He groaned, “Say it.”

The static was almost deafening now.

“Best do what he asks, Darling.” Alastor was now removing his pants, having moved to the top of the bed so he could observe his wife's expression. “I'll never tire of hearing it either.”

“I love you, Alastor. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” Your face was burning red as the Radio Demon reached down to fish his cock free from his unzipped pants, “Not even death can do us part!”

That had been the one line you and Alastor had changed at your wedding, but…

“You don't belong in Hell, my sweet fawn.” The Radio Demon grasped your hip and gripped the base of his cock, your legs spreading as he rubbed his shaft through your creamy folds, causing you to shiver and moan, “While I may crave your presence every day, I prefer to know that you are safe where you belong.”

Your head tossed to the side as the Radio Demon slowly began to penetrate you and your eyes opened in surprise when you felt lips pressing against yours. “Alastor?” You panted, feeling your silky walls being stretched more than they ever have before. He was bigger than anything you had ever taken before.

“You will adjust in a few moments, ma cher. It won't hurt or feel uncomfortable for much longer.” Alastor stated, staring at the scene in front of him and feeling a heat settle deep under his stomach.

He wanted to join, but he did not want to push his dear wife any further than you were comfortable with. Plus, you and he had never ventured to that area before either.

The Radio Demon’s eyes glanced up at Alastor for a brief moment before setting down back onto you as he finally slid in all the way to the hilt, “Fuck, I haven't even moved yet and you're already clenching down on me so tightly.”

“S'big!” You almost felt like you were being split in two and you whined when the Radio Demon slowly withdrew, caressing every sensitive spot before he swiftly thrust back in, “HAH!” You were seeing stars as he found a rhythm, “S'good!”

Alastor watched with slight envy, but it quickly changed to confusion when the Radio Demon gave him some sort of look before focusing back on you.

Was he supposed to know what that meant?

It was only a few seconds later that a long black tentacle-like appendage snapped out of the Radio Demon's back and Alastor found himself surprised for the nth time that night, even by this point, he shouldn't be.

It seemed that you were already too fucked out again to notice the extra appendage as the Radio Demon flipped you over to your stomach, positioning you on all fours as he maneuvered over top of you, pressing his chest to your back as his hips thrust blindly, seeking your warm wet hole.

He used the lone tentacle (that you still have yet to notice, but you would very shortly) to wrap around his length, guiding it back to your slick cunt. He growled, loud static popping in the air, drool dripping off his fangs as he humped you like the deer he resembled.

You are so lost in pleasure, gasping and wheezing, that it takes a few moments for you to realize that there's something prodding you back there, “W-wha?” You swallow thickly, feeling something cool circle and lightly push at your other hole, causing you to flinch, “W-what is that? Alastor?” You whimper.

It took a second for the Radio Demon to come to his senses, especially when you were squeezing down so tightly on his cock. “My little Doe, it must be done if you wish to take both of us. Surely you want that. It's not often one can fuck two forms of their spouse at the same time.” The tentacle began to breach the rim of your second hole and you let out pained noise.

Alastor moved on the bed, stroking your hair and kissing your temple, “I know, Darling, I know.” He reached underneath you when the Radio Demon resumed his crude humping, finding your clit with a bit of difficulty due to the constant rocking. “If you truly do need to stop, say ‘jambalaya’ and we will.”

This was for Alastor and a few minutes of total discomfort should not stop you.

“How's it feel?” Alastor asked, curious as he had never touched that area before.

“H-hah,” you felt sweat drip down your face, trying to answer your husband’s question, but the sensations of the Radio Demon's cock hitting every sensitive spot in your sloppy cunt, Alastor’s fingers strumming along your puffy clit, and the slippery tentacle now an inch or two in, squirming against the walls of your ass?

You crumbled.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon snarled, halting his movements as he felt you cumming hard around him. His ears twitched at the sound of your wailing and he summoned another tentacle out of his back, using it to hold your shaking body up against his as he clenched his hands in the sheets below, claws easily ripping through the material.

As he completely avoided any sexual activity during his time in Hell, the Radio Demon found he was a lot more sensitive than he recalled and simply having you suck him for a few moments and cumming once on his cock was enough for him to lose it.

It took all of his self control to not finish so early as he focused on his tentacles and stretching your other hole slowly but surely.

Alastor watched with exhilaration that he only experienced when he was pounding you into the bed, or watching the life fade out of the eyes out of some degenerate after hunting them down, and after your keening quieted down, he found himself surprised that he was stroking himself, something he never partook in.

“Do you think you are able to take me, my love?” Alastor asked after a moment of allowing you to catch your breath, though you still looked a little out of it, still caged under the Radio Demon’s much larger body – looking helpless, small, and stuffed full of cock.

He needed to stuff you with more.

“I… I think? Maybe?” You lifted your head to look at Alastor, watching him smile at you and you bit your lip when you felt that strange appendage slowly pull out of your ass and you grimaced at the sudden feeling of emptiness?

The Radio Demon squeezed your hips and also pulled out of you, sitting you on the bed as he snapped his fingers and you jumped, feeling your body tingle for a second before it disappeared and you felt strangely lighter, “W-what was that?” You asked as he snapped his fingers again and a small bottle appeared in his hand out of nowhere

“I cleansed you,” The Radio Demon simply stated, not wanting to get into the finer details of anal sex and embarrass you, “You will need this, my dear. Use as much as you need.” He handed his past self the bottle and eyed him expectantly.

“Extra lubrication.” Alastor said, snapping the lid open and squeezing it out on his fingers, rubbing them together experimentally, “It’s needed so I don’t, well… tear anything.” He grasped your hand, unfolding it. “Aid me, won’t you, Darling?” His voice grew a little sultry as he squeezed the lube out on your hand.

You flushed, reaching down as your hand wrapped around Alastor’s cock, trying to spread the lube evenly as you jerked his shaft, causing him to sigh with contentment, feeling your hand glide smoothly, “I believe that’s enough. Your turn. Turn around for me and either lie down on your stomach or get on all fours – whichever is more comfortable for you.”

You say Alastor’s eyes flash and knew what position he would prefer, but despite your embarrassment, you got on all fours like you knew he wanted and you spread your legs as much as you could.

“Bear with it.” Alastor felt his heart race as your head lowered when he squeezed the lube out and you shivered when you felt his slick fingers begin to prod at your ass, passing the tight rim after a few nudging of his fingers.

It still felt strange, but Alastor tried to make up for it with slow firm thrusts and filthy words.

“Darling, I know you will feel so good squeezed around me. I never imagined you would be so receptive to the idea. I can’t wait to see what sort of face you will make this time for me. Taking both of our cocks at once, perhaps you will cum so hard, you will soak the sheets? Forget your own name?”

You whined, feeling your face flame.

“I have done what I can to prepare you.” Alastor removed his fingers from your back hole, “Now go over to our guest. I believe you will have to ride him in order for this to work.”

The Radio Demon's smile seemed to twitch at Alastor's remark, but he did lean back and prop himself against the pillows so you were able to straddle him – which you only did so after a pause from you and a nod from him.

“Not yet, my dear, though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” The Radio Demon chuckled, stopping you from gripping him and just sliding down his cock, “It's best for my past self to go first.”

Alastor moved over to you, stroking your back in a soothing manner, “Remember what to say if you want to stop.” He said with a slight frown and it lifted when you repeated ‘jambalaya’ back to him, “I'll go slow.” He gripped himself, watching as the Radio Demon oh-so kindly spread you (and you letting out a cute squeak) and he lowered himself until he felt skin on skin.

You tensed, trying best to calm down when felt the head of his cock prod at your ass, just resting there until you relaxed enough that he could press forward. “Haahhmmm.” Strange noises escaped you as Alastor slowly proceeded, stopped, rocked back and forth a few times, before repeating.

“My little Doe, breathe.” The Radio Demon trailed his hands down your sides, moving towards your dripping core to find your aching clit to help alleviate any discomfort with pleasure, “It won't be long now, my dear. You will be, as an effeminate fellow acquaintance of mine likes to say, ‘cockdrunk’ soon enough.”

You groaned, not only from the Radio Demon's words, but from feeling full. Yet you felt empty at the same time as your pussy clenched nothing but air.

Arms wrapped around you from behind as Alastor buried his head in your shoulder, breathing hard while sweat dripped off his face. “Shit.”

You were so fucking tight – to the point he ridiculously feared you might squeeze his cock right off.

“Prepare yourself.” The Radio Demon purred, lining his length up with your dripping cunt, “Or perhaps you needn't to. There won't be a single thought in that pretty little head of yours.” And with that, he thrust in carefully, knowing he and his past self had to find a rhythm that would not cause their wife any pain.

“A-Al–” You mewled, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes, “A-Ala–” You couldn't even talk straight anymore.

Alastor grit his teeth, thrusting in when the Radio Demon pulled back. His wife was tight, hot, and he could feel the Radio Demon through the thin membrane.

He wasn't going to last long.

“Such a perverse wife I have! Tell me, how does fucking two cocks at once feel?” The Radio Demon's smile turned sadistic, seeing that you couldn't even comprehend his question and his hand came up to wipe the drool seeping from your mouth and watched with satisfaction as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he began circling your clit, “Are you going to cum, my dear? Should I allow it?”

You babbled nonsense, not hearing a word anyone was saying as you were sandwiched between your present husband and his future demon self and only able to focus on the molten heat in your core.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Both were big (though the Radio Demon was bigger in that department), so with every thrust, they hit every spot that brought stars to your closed eyes.

Someone was rubbing circles on your slick clit and the other was fondling your breasts. Teeth nibbled at the lobe of your ear and sharp fangs and a long tongue were dragging along your skin dangerously close towards your throat.

It was the hand that pressed down hard on your pelvis that had you come undone.

Were you screaming? You didn't know as the world blurred and you could feel nothing but ecstasy shoot through every part of your trembling body and the afterpangs were just as pleasant to feel as you slumped down, barely even conscious after the many orgasms you had experienced that night.

“Fuck!” The Radio Demon knew he would not be able to stave off this as your vevelty walls clamped down on his cock and he looked down in shock, unconsciously licking his lips when he noticed you were squirting all over him.

This sight alone had him shooting spurt after spurt of ejaculate into your gushing pussy.

Alastor simply observed all this happen, having pulled halfway out of your ass so he could wrap his hand around the base of his cock to delay his orgasm, though he no longer needed to. 

He released his hand, thrusting forward as deep he could go in your ass. He was already on the edge, waiting to tip over and just the tightness of your anal walls squeezing him was enough to send him over, shooting his load of cum into you with a satisfied groan.

Both you and Alastor collapsed on the bed as the Radio Demon shifted so there was more room, though after a brief moment of silence other than heavy breathing, both males looked towards you as they grudgingly pulled out of you, eyeing the leaking mess they made of you with fervor.

You only had so much stamina however.

And–

“You did so well, my love.” Alastor brushed your hair from your face, kissing your temple when you attempted to focus your glazed eyes towards him, “Only you could satisfy us so.” He lightly pinched your cheek to keep you awake when they began fluttering.

A glass of water appeared in the Radio Demon’s hand as he sat up, propping your back up against his chest as he brought the glass up to your lips and tilted your head up, “Don’t drink it too fast, my dear.” He instructed, appeased when you slowly swallowed the water down and he vanished the glass, relishing the feel of your skin against his.

It was time for him to leave.

“My sweet wife, it took me decades to find the spell so I could see you again,” the Radio Demon stated and he felt you stiffen against him, “I am uncertain if it will work again or if this was a one time occurrence, but know that this night was to my utmost delight. I must say, simply seeing your lovely face satisfied me as much as–m̨̻̪̣̹̙̰̦͇̏͒̅͒ͪ͝ơ̧̛̛̗͍̝̣̜̺͉̜̜̩̥̈́̋ͫ̌̽͐̅̔̍̋́́̏̇ͧ̀͘͘̚͜͜͢͝ŕ̛̝̺̖̬̰ͫͨ̆͌͛̾ͭ̈̾̉̌ͯ͞e̸̙͕̯̻̘͈̋ͩ̑ͦ́͟ ţ̶̟̯̻̘͍͓̯̈̂h̿ͮ͘a̶̸̲̣͖̻̦̜ͯ̉͌ͣ͂̈́͞n͙̳̍ͫ–the screams of the souls I rip apart on my broadcasts all over Hell!”

What?

“You’re leaving?” The Radio Demon’s words snapped you to attention in more than one way, but you put those rather disturbing words aside for that moment to focus on his departure. 

Your mind was clear and your body was no longer burning and you should be honestly terrified that there was a demon from Hell wrapped around you now that you could think straight, but he was still your husband.

He was still Alastor.

“Regretfully so.” The Radio Demon gently removed you from himself, standing from the bed as you stared at him with those wide eyes of yours. He snapped his fingers, fixing his appearance to his usual pristine condition and dressing you and Alastor with a second snap, causing you and his past self to jump in shock to his amusement.

“But…” You bit your lip, feeling it wobble as you looked between the Radio Demon and Alastor, “Why… why are you in Hell? You never told me.” Your voice started to crack.

Alastor clenched his fists and looked away from you and the Radio Demon’s static grew louder at the question, “I am certain you will find out the reason why in the future.” After all, he did leave you a widow after his unexpected and pathetic death and it most certainly got out how he brutally murdered and engaged in occasional cannibalism – he just had no idea how you felt about him after that all came to be.

Did you still love him afterwards as you lived the rest of your mortal life?

Did you still love him in Heaven as an angel?

“I told you, Alastor,” you seemed to notice the tone in the Radio Demon’s filtered voice, “I love you, since we were children. Not even death can do us part.”

Alastor inhaled sharply and the Radio Demon eyed him for a second before turning back to you, “If this spell does not work for the next full moon on Earth, I must bid you adieu.” He moved forward, bending down to press a kiss against your forehead.

There was a flash of green light and you fell forward, unconscious and memories of the night gone. 

The Radio Demon caught you, stroking your side before placing you on the bed and turned to his past self, his smile tightening.

“Well, what an interesting night this has been!” Alastor tilted his head, appearing thoughtful, “I admit I never believed in Heaven or Hell, but clearly I was wrong about that. Good to know that Mother is where she belongs and that I will kill that wretch of a man all over again.”

“His screams of agony were most entertaining. Why, I could listen to them over and over again and never tire of them!” The Radio Demon let out a puff of amusement, fondly remembering torturing the man whom he once had to call ‘father’.

“I suppose if that spell of yours works again, you’ll be a familiar face here every full moon?” Alastor asked casually, “I’m not opposed.” 

The Radio Demon held out his hand, much to Alastor’s surprise, “Yes, I would. Just a friendly shake, no deal here. I don’t think I can take my own soul.”

Alastor took the Radio Demon’s hand after a moment of hesitation, shaking it firmly before his eyes widened as the same green light flashed and, he too, fell forward, unconscious with his memories of the night gone.

“I can’t have you dragging our lovely wife into your depraved acts now. I saw how Y/N’s words affected you.” The Radio Demon placed his past self on the bed beside you, staring at the couple, “Our darling Doe doesn’t belong in Hell. I would like to keep it that way.”

He vanished with the moonlight.

[6esiree]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times you tentatively pressed your lips against Alastor’s cheek until he finally stirred awake. It was late—about 3 AM, give or take—but you just couldn’t sleep, not after he took you out to watch a particularly frightening film earlier in celebration of Halloween. And with it being the witching hour, every creak, every groan, and every meager noise that resounded throughout the aging house your dear husband inherited from his departed mother made you all the less willing to close your eyes.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?” Alastor eventually rasped, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watched his pupils dilate to adjust to the darkness, but he couldn’t see all that well anyway. “Can’t sleep, I presume?”

With an abashed nod, you shuffled closer to him, tossing your arms around his waist and bringing your bodies flush together, your cold nose pressing against the hollow of his throat. He returned your embrace almost instinctively, his knee nestling in the space between your legs as his hands traveled past your nightgown without an ounce of shame. But it was perfect—the way he firmly squeezed your hips and melded to your smaller frame with his larger one like a puzzle piece. He was perfect.

Or so that’s what you thought.

“Pray tell, how could you allow some…” Alastor murmured into your hair, slender fingers delicately tracing the fine curvature of your body, moving up and up and up… till they arrived at the supple flesh beneath your breasts, “…silly little phobia to keep you awake?”

Your eyes fluttered shut with a breathy sigh, nails haphazardly raking up his sides in response to the tantalizing manner in which he thumbed at one of your nipples. His other hand slid up the back of your neck, grasping a handful of your hair and pulling your head back ever so gently. Unbelievable—he tutted, and you would have felt even more embarrassed if he hadn’t nipped at the column of your throat… or made his arousal known to you, his hardening erection bumping against your clit oh-so perfectly.

One, two, three, four… that’s how many times Alastor nipped at you, his teeth leaving tiny bruises on your skin almost in revenge for rising him from such a peaceful slumber. And even though he thought your reason to be rather childish in nature, he wouldn’t allow you to suffer for any longer than you already had; so he pushed you down onto the mattress, a hand dipping into your panties with the intention of melting away the fear in your bones. Your lips parted in gratification—much like your legs did—hole fluttering at the delicate press of his fingers.

“It’s more of a fear of the unknown,” You admitted with a sheepishness that had Alastor chuckling, but only for a moment, his attention quickly stolen by the sticky sound of his fingers circulating your clit. “Not… knowing what… malevolent being may be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the—ha—perfect opportunity to strike.”

Hmph—that was the only thing he was able to muster as he picked up the pace; and while he couldn’t see you all that well, he could feel your cunt flutter, and he could hear the sheets rustle with every twist and turn of your body. But before you could come undone at a meager rubbing, he abandoned your clit and trailed his slick-drenched fingers down your folds, pushing past them and into your neglected hole, eliciting a pleasured cry from you. A deep groan reverberated throughout his chest as your walls swallowed three of his fingers—and so effortlessly, too.

“Hand me my glasses, won’t you?” As soon as those words left Alastor’s mouth, you stretched an arm towards the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Anyway, there are more things that are worth fearing in this world, sweetheart. Not some invisible force such as a spirit.”

“Like the Bayou Butcher?” You innocently asked between bouts of pants, your hand desperately searching for his glasses in the darkness… all while his hand searched for that velvety spot in your walls that had you coming undone in no time. “I don’t want to end up in a gator’s stomach.”

“I suppose,” Alastor responded rather curtly, but you were far too lost in your pleasure to take notice of that, “Although, I wouldn’t fear them either,” He continued, the truth almost tumbling from his lips, “So long as I live, you don’t have to worry about a gruesome demise befalling you.”

At least that little bit he added towards the end was truthful, but because you didn’t know that, you chose to shrug it off. Your husband was a hunter, and you vividly recalled the way he effortlessly took down a stag with a singular bullet as you finally located his glasses, including the unrelenting strength he had in his muscles to carry it back on the way home. Still, you refused to believe he could keep you safe from a literal serial killer, the same one that had been tormenting New Orleans for quite some time already.

Alastor knew by the slow and tentative nod of your head as he put on his glasses that you doubted him, but he couldn’t do anything else to prove himself. So, he curled his fingers and assaulted that spot in your walls with a feverishness that had you writhing and moaning almost instantaneously, his palm moving against your swollen clit. He loomed over you almost menacingly as he fucked you with his hand, watching your back delicately arch up towards him, your hardened nipples peaking through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

But the squelching from your cunt… oh, that was what made Alastor’s self-control snap. He pulled his hand out of you before you could finish, and you would have whined at the loss if he hadn’t pulled down his pajama pants so hastily, the sound of his weeping cock smacking against his toned stomach making your hole flutter with anticipation rather than disappointment. But as he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your slick-drenched panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cool air, he leaned in and nosed at your shoulder with a few more words.

“I meant what I said,” His lips moved against you as he grasped the flesh of your hip with one hand, the other moving the head of his cock up and down your folds, lathering himself with your wetness. “If I can kill a stag, I can definitely kill a man… “ He continued, finally pushing into you, your face falling into the pillow with a gratified moan, “…to ensure your safety, of course.”

Your dear husband would kill a man to ensure your safety, how… nice, you thought, communicating your appreciation by pushing your hips back with a nod that was much more firm and reassuring. A deep groan caressed your ear as you forced Alastor to bottom out, his cock kissing your cervix; and while he was well aware of the fact that you didn’t doubt him any less, he held onto you with a force that would surely leave bruises come morning, pulling his cock completely out of you before slamming back into you.

And he repeated this over and over again, unconsciously taking his frustration out on your poor cunt—for waking him up over some silly little fear of ghosts, and for especially doubting his ability to take a human being’s life. However, he supposed that you would eventually find out the harrowing truth behind his late-night shifts at the radio station as he reached down to rub at your swollen clit, encouraging you to come undone alongside him. And you did, your walls clamping down around him with a long whine.

“No more horror films from now on, you hear me?” Alastor stated as he went to plant a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his cock pulsating inside of your fluttering walls, but you swiftly turned your head to the side and captured his lips. “Oh, you cheeky little thing,” He murmured, whatever frustration he previously felt completely forgotten.

[hazbinhotelxreader]

Velvette x female model reader smut

“Good Job Doll~”

A/n: damn yall like these writing huh? Well I ain’t stopping you lol! I hope this was alright!

(Requested by: egg boi on AO3)

Warning: mean/soft velvette, bottom reader, fingering, rough sex, voice kink, hair tugging(light), cussing, touching bodies sexually without permission, praise kink, soft sex, eating someone out, gay sex

You were a model for velvette. Just a girl trying to make some cash, well you thought. It turns out your velvettes ‘favorite’ model. She’s always making excuses and firing her other models so your her main focus. At first you honestly thought it was just a friendship thing, but you slowly started to realize it wasn’t, it was more….sexual.

It started off with simple touches and praises, playing with your hair or touching your curves playfully, then it got more demanding. And her words sounded more sexual and suggestive. You didn’t mind it though, you kinda enjoyed the attention from the young overlord, she never failed to make you blush.

One day she came into the dressing room with you and handed you an outfit. “Try this on please darling, I need to see how absolutely stunning you’ll look in it.” She flirted lightly. She handed you a short dress that had her signature colors.

“Yes ma’am.” You obey your boss. You strip off your clothes, getting undressed in front of her was normal for all the models. Velvette was scanning and looking at every inch of your body secretly as you put the short dress on.

She walked over to you and smirked. “Oh it looks gorgeous! We have to take a picture” she said and pulled out her phone for a selfie, wrapping her arm around your waist tightly, making you blush. She takes the picture and giggled a little. “Oh you look so adorable in this picture!”

“Thank you..” you say sheepishly. She seemed to notice your nervousness and smirked.

“Oh come now dear, your gorgeous. In fact. I can show you how gorgeous you truly are~” she said seductively as she traced your breasts. You couldn’t help but blush, even if this was normal. Before you could speak up she grabbed your hips and forced you onto the vanity.

“What are you doing?” You ask Velvette, blushing intensely.

“Giving you an award for your hard work dear~” she said seductively, her accent felt so nice to hear with that tone..you didn’t try to get away or anything..you stayed there, you couldn’t help but admit you wanted it..and velvette noticed.

“Oh? You’re a good girl aren’t you? Allowing your hot, stunning boss to award you~?” Velvette smirked and started to grope your breast, causing you to let out a soft gasp in pleasure. “There we go..” Velvette smirked, and didn’t hold back. She started to kiss you hungrily, she’s been waiting for this moment for so long, and she finally had you at her mercy.

You moan and kiss back, carefully caressing her face as she did so. Velvette’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth and you moaned and closed your eyes, your tongues swirling and intertwining together. She pulled away, strands of saliva connecting your lips, and looked at your body more.

You pant at the kiss, trying to catch your breath but she started to kiss you again more tough, causing you to tug and keep a tight grasp on her hair and whimper. She chuckled lightly at the whimper, loving the soft noises you made.

She moved fast, pushing you all the way up to the vanity mirror with how much force she was using to kiss you, eventually open mouth kissing, your tongues still mixing together. She finally pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath, but not for long. She immediately got on her knees and put her head under the dress she made you put on earlier. You blush and spoke up. “U-uh what are you doing..?”

“Oh don’t worry dear..I’m just treating you with your reward..it won’t hurt..that much.” She looked up at you one last time and then went back under your dress..pulling your panties off. You blush out of embarrassment and arousal, as Velvette chuckles at your already fully aroused pussy. “Oh such a good girl..so ready for me…”

She kissed your thighs and trialed up them to your throbbing and needy cunt, you let out a whiny and needy moan, hands threatening to grasp her hair again. “Please Velvette..”. You beg.

“Call me ma’am.” She demanded before she could continue, she wanted you to still call her ma’am, it did make her feel more in control.

“Please ma’am..please..” you beg again, leaning your head against the vanity’s mirror.

“Please what?” She looked up from under the dress, smirking, she lived playing with you..she found it amusing.

“Please let me cum..please” you begged whiningly. That was enough to satisfy Velvette, as she planted her skilled mouth onto your wet and ready pussy. You let out a gasp and arch your back and hips off the vanity, hands clinging onto the vanity’s edge, you moan and forced your hips into her face more.

She moaned against your pussy, tasting your sweet nectar, it sent vibrations through you that made you shiver and moan. She used one of her hands to push your legs apart more, and the other was teasing your soaked entrance. You were left begging and pleading for her to enter you.

You gasp as she thrusted three fingers in at first into your tight little pussy. She was desperate. She has been wanting to do this for a long time to you. She thrusted in and out more roughly, but not enough to cause severe pain. You let out quiet cry’s and yelps, your eyes rolling back as she found your g-spot and hit it repeatedly with her skilled fingers. “In so close…” you whispered and panted softly.

“That’s it..be a good girl and cum for me..” veovette said, thrusting her fingers rougher and rougher. You let out a longer cry as you cum onto her fingers. She quickly licked the white liquid off of herself, and then placed her mouth on your entrance, milking out every last drop of cum. You pant. Your body quivering out of ecstasy. You opened your cloudy eyes and looked down at her. She stands up and licks her slightly cum covered face, then smirked back at you.

“Good job, doll~”

[synamartia]

♡ I Got You ( Human!Alastor x Afab!Reader )

♡ Content Warnings: MDNI ; 18+ ; Porn without plot ; smut ; semi-public sex ; car sex ; brat taming ; unprotected sex ; creampie ; if I missed any, let me know!

♡ Author's Notes: For my darling wifeys Hazel, Mink, and Danny~! I hope I was able to deliver on the base idea 🥺 Not proofread, my brain stopped braining near the end so it's kinda rushed, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless~!

♡ Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska

"Where's that- nngh! ... that attitude now, dear?"

You couldn't speak, your brain unable to even perceive the words that tumbled from Alastor's mouth as the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin filled your ears. "A- ah! Hah! Uh, oh, oh fuh-!" His hips slamming against the fat of your ass smothered any attempt to form words.

The darkness of the alley he had parked in kept your licentious activities hidden well enough from prying eyes on the bustling city street, thankfully. But the vehicle rocking back and forth from the force of his movements was a dead giveaway to anyone that lingered at the alley's edge a couple seconds too long - the moans of pleasure being torn from your heaving bosom, the pleading whimpers for him to fuck you harder a simple confirmation of what Alastor was doing to you.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked, his voice laced with a smug arrogance, and suddenly you found your head being pulled back, your sweaty cheek being torn away from the sticky leather when his fingers tangled in your hair and yanked even further until you were staring at the lining of his car roof.

Eyes clenched shut from the pain in your scalp and the delicious, burning stretch of his cock ramming in and out - going deeper and deeper than any of your previous partners, reaching new places you didn't know existed with every thrust - your nails sunk into the headrest of the seat you had been pressed against, clinging desperately to something, anything tangible to keep yourself grounded.

What was he saying just now? Oh, yeah - it was something about your attitude.

"I- hah! I said- fuck, I sssaahh-!" You managed to get out in between your gasps, biting the inside of your cheek to gain some semblance of control over the mind numbingly sensations coursing through your veins. Using the front seats as leverage, you craned your neck to peer over your shoulder until you could see Alastor's face, smirking at the site before you - rounded glasses askew on the bridge of his nose, pupils dilated, cheeks dusted with a faint pinkish glow, jaw slack.

"I said, you can fuck me better than that!"

"Such foul language! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Tsk, tsk, tsk," he teased, the flowy skirt of your dress bunched at your waist, giving him a clear view of the ripples being sent through your backside. His free hand grasped one cheek, guiding your sweet, sweet cunt up and down his excruciatingly throbbing member.

"You're right, I can fuck you better. But I wonder - can you?"

Detaching his hands from your hair and ass, Alastor spread both arms across the top side of the backseat, slowing the lazy bucking of his hips until he stopped moving entirely. Groaning loudly at his goading you into movement, you didn't waste a single second - rolling your hips back and forth on his lap harshly. Gripping the edges of the front seat tightly, your grinding gradually turned into a bounce, gaining speed with every downward motion of your hips.

"Ho-hoooh fuck yes, just like that! Keep going!" Alastor breathed out, watching as your hips gained speed with every downward motion, the 'smack, smack, smack!' of skin against skin and the obscenely wet squelching of your pussy filling the air and pushing you closer to your release, threatening to throw you over the cliff's edge of absolute bliss any second now.

Clamping down on his painfully hard length, Alastor let out a delectable little whimper, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back against the leather seat. Raking a hand through his damp chestnut locks, the pliant walls of your heated sex wrapped around his cock provided him with some amount of relief; but it wasn't anywhere near enough.

He needed more.

"Fuck, fuck, Alastor! I'm so close!" you cried suddenly, closing your eyes tightly as both of you felt the all-too-familiar fluttering of your pussy, causing your hips to stutter - leaving you right on the cusp of glorious ectasy but holding you back from that heavenly plunge. Alastor let out a breathy laugh at your predicament, wanting nothing more than to edge you, to grab hold of your hips and hold you still until your orgasm slipped from your grasp entirely. It would undoubtedly teach you not to act like such a brat, especially in public.

Had Alastor not been dangling off the very same cliff, he would have.

"I got you, dear."

And with that, his hands returned to the plush roundness of your ass cheeks and spread them apart for a better view, helping you to regain your momentum and planting his feet into the floorboard for added leverage.

"That's it," Alastor whispered, mesmerized by the sight of your ambrosian heat swallowing his engorged cock whole, his balls slapping against your neglected clit as he bucked his hips into you from below.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Don't stop, don't stop, almost there-!" he coaxed you into the beginnings of your release, imagining the way your face would scrunch up at the first few waves to come crashing over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, your jaw dropped into a silent scream at the overwhelming pleasure hitting you over and over and over again, each wave more intense than the last.

Alastor wasn't too far behind you, and with one final thrust he was spilling his hot cum inside you and painting your walls white with his seed. He kept still as he rode out the high that accompanied his release, his hips pressed flush against your bottom while both of you panted and gasped and tried to bring yourselves back to reality.

"Fuck... maybe I should complain about your poor choice in musicals more often."

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Alibi

⚜ Pairing: human!Alastor X reader

⚜ Content notes: Reader is a sex worker, Alastor is a serial killer, brief reference to domestic abuse and injury, explicit sexual content, reader is a woman, reader has a pussy, bathtime, cum pooling in the collarbones, the sex is transactional but not like that

⚜ Wordcount: 4.5k

Only about half the men who come to the bordello come for sex. Those are the easier half. The simpler half. The guys who will be happy as a pig in muck to have a girl who squeals real pretty and a wet hole to fuck.

The other half are complicated. Guys need things other than sex. Some of them want someone to talk to, someone to listen to them and unfurrow their brows. Some of them want someone to hold, someone who doesn't flinch and look away when they cry. Some of them have other lovers, men or women, and they use the whorehouse to hide their affairs, paying for you and the room and sending you away to play cards downstairs at the bar.

Then there's Al. Al for Alibi.

He’s a sharply dressed whiplash of a man, a sweet, charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, but this is Storyville- everybody and his brother is a charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, so that doesn’t set him apart. No, what sets him apart is a quality that you struggle to describe. It’s something like grit, you think. Al’s got the eyes of someone who has found themselves sitting in the dirt at the bottom of a well and decided to dig themselves out. He talks like he’s about to sell you the golden gate bridge, and he dances like a man possessed, and again there are plenty of men like that in New Orleans, but none of them have that same look in their eyes. You like him a whole lot.

You keep a spare set of clothes for him, in the bottom of the tea chest at the end of your bed. He always picks you, always picks your room- it's the one with the biggest bathtub and the window with the trellised wisteria beneath it he can climb down. You don’t know why it’s you he picks, but your guts tell you it’s something to do with the red flannel bag you keep on your dresser, the one with grave dirt, dahlia petals and a deer’s tooth in it. His eyes linger longer than a man not initiated, and later you notice he’s got his own- a faded little bag in his pocket.

He always brings you flowers, as if he has come to your parents’ house as a suitor and not to your room at the bordello, and kisses you once, on the cheek, before he changes clothes and climbs from the window. It makes you feel some kinda way when it really shouldn’t; you’re no blushing girl at a cotillion ball but a grown woman fucking men to pay her rent. The sensation of a man’s lips against your cheek shouldn’t linger like this does, a phantom on your skin long after the wisteria has stopped shaking.

When he comes back it's hours later, bloody and wide-eyed, grinning from ear to ear, trembling with adrenaline from whatever it is he's done. His eyes say he’s still in the well; still trying to dig upwards, and it stirs a feeling in your chest that is either pity or envy or both.

You don't ask him where he's been, or what he's done. That's not your job. Your job is to run a warm bath for him, and help him out of his bloody, torn clothes. Your job is to get the soap he likes, the scent in the water he likes, and help him into the tub. Your job is to hold his long, elegant hands in yours as you meticulously clean the blood from under his fingernails, his nailbeds. Your job is to help him down from his quivering maniac high, to stroke the tension from the muscles in his thin shoulders and bring his face to your chest.

Your job isn’t to desire him, but somehow he always manages to stir that part of you too. Even after a day when you’ve been touched too much he is beautiful, all long lines and sharp angles, leaning into your touch but never demanding it. The first few times you bathe him you hope that it might turn into something more, that he might rise from the waters of the tub and ask to know you biblically, but it doesn’t happen, so you content yourself, pitifully, to pleasing yourself after to the memory of the planes of his back, or the feel of his hair through your fingers as you shampoo him.

When you’re done bathing him he allows you to wrap one of the bordello’s fluffy towels around him, and he lies on the bed, his head in your lap, looking up at you as his breathing slows. He likes to talk, just like all men like to talk, and Al talks big. He talks jazz, about the musicians he’s seen and the ones he’s played cards with with. Who he’s had on his show, who he wants on his show. Sometimes he talks like he’s selling himself, like he’s one of the girls downstairs in the bar on a long and unfruitful night and you’re a big spender who just walked in. It’s not so uncommon that a guy comes in trying to impress a girl, but from him it’s downright charming. It’s not like he’d even have to try to get your panties off, but what he wants from you is approval. Your undivided attention. He’s paying, so you give it.

You stroke his hair and tell him how well he’s doing, how his momma would be proud, and he nods like he wants to believe you, but his eyes don’t change. He’s still staring like he’s got his back to cold earth and his face to distant, untouchable stars.

One night you have a bruise on your face from your boyfriend, covered with powder and rouge but the swelling still visible, and he wants to know who has done this to you. Most guys know better than to ask this kind of thing; you’re a whore, after all, and violence is a hazard of the workplace, but Al is persistent.

For once, he doesn’t leave through the window to climb down the wisteria, instead sitting on the bed with you, one long thin arm round your plush waist. Asking who did this, who did this. His voice is sweet as brown sugar, the same darkness underpinning it, as his accent drifts, from bright, clipped wireless polish to something lower down in his register, something more recognizably local. For once in your relationship Al wants something from you, something more than an open window and an alibi for his nocturnal hobbies.

“Tell me, chouchoute.” Al’s mean jazz piano fingers trail the line of your jaw to your chin, his index finger curling beneath to lift your face to his. There’s something more in his soulful brown eyes now, more than the look of a man deep in the hole. There is hunger. Desire.

You feel your mouth grow dry, feel the pulse in your neck. To be wanted by him, in whatever way that is, is a feeling with an intoxicating potency. You like sex well enough, but sex is work. Being touched by him feels like a genuine seduction, the sort that sets your skin feverish and lips chapped from kissing.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” you say. You know you’re right. Telling a customer about your personal issues is not something that ends well for people like you. Guys get involved. Guys get attached. Guys get violent.

“Oh? You shouldn’t?” His eyes are fixed on yours. He smiles like a wolf. “Are you worried about what I might do, once I know?”

The problem is, you want him involved. You want him attached. Frozen under his gaze, you think of the blood under his fingernails. He’s already violent. Every night he’s steeped in red, whiplash thin body sharp and manic. But your boyfriend is a bigger guy than him. You don’t want Al getting hurt. “Would you promise not to do anything, if I told you?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Al gives a huff of laughter. “Let’s make a deal,” he says, his eyes still hungry, his hand still on your face. “You give me what I want, and I take you to heaven tonight. You hear the angels sing as many times as you want. Sound good?”

From most of your customers, you would dismiss an offer like this as male ego. Boastfulness. But Al’s slender fingers give you goosebumps as they trail down over your windpipe, telling you he’s good for it.

Al doesn’t wait for your answer, but he does kiss you, all sweet and soft and romantic, like he’s your sweetheart and you’re on a date, enough to make you melt into him. You don’t usually kiss clients, and it takes you off-guard, his honeyed tongue sweeter than his words as it strokes against yours, still selling his offer. His long musician’s fingers are going to curl inside you and his cock is going to be hot, silk-sheathed steel against your skin and just the thought of that makes you ache for him. You moan against his tongue and his lips twitch against yours, smiling.

“Well?” he says, though he knows your answer. He’s just offered you something that far outweighs the value of what he’s asking. A night of his attention, all for a name.

“Payment up front,” you say, drunk on his touch already.

“Clever girl,” says Al, and from anyone else that would feel damn patronizing, but out of his sly smile it makes you want more.

He undresses you, which isn’t exactly hard- you pick your costumes as things that can easily be slipped off and tossed to the floor, but Al drags his mouth against the skin of your neck, your back, your shoulder, slow, sucking kisses that aren’t quite hard enough to leave marks, but feel like they might. His isn’t a sloppy, desperate gambit, but a studied one, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your face. Fuck, you want him to take you, want him so much that it makes your guts ache with it. You want him to throw you on the bed, point your toes to the ceiling and make you see stars, but he’s not a man to be rushed.

He’s there to taste you, to breathe in your breath. He’ll be everything you ever wanted him to be, if you’ll only let him.

When he loosens his tie it’s with a coquettish tilt of his head, and you can tell he likes being watched. Al slows the process down for you, undoing buttons with a studious slowness, twirling each sleeve garter once around his finger as he removes it before tossing it to the side. When he takes off his belt, he winds it once round each of his palms and snaps it tight, mouth twitching when you startle at the noise. Hurry up, you want to tell him, but watching him is just too damn fun. When he’s down to vest, boxer shorts, socks and sock garters, the point at which most men look ridiculous, he gives you a sultry look and stalks over to the bed where you are sitting, your legs off the edge. With a haughty flick of his head, he plants one arched foot on the mattress between your knees, toes first, and leans forward onto that knee, his face perilously close to yours. You run your hands down his leg, from his knee to the garter for his sock, and he catches your mouth in a light, teasing kiss.

You undo the clasp on the garter, pulling it down along with the sock, and stroking the long, lean, line of his calf. He makes a noise in his throat that’s almost a purr, and breaks the kiss as he steps out of the sock entirely and switches legs. You take more time with the second garter, not least because the position gives you a view of Al’s boxer shorts. He’s hard for you, the small white buttons on his fly straining to hold back the length of his cock, and the sight makes your mouth water.

Al pushes you back, climbing on top of you, and his legs straddle your waist as you slide your hands up his thin sides, hooking your thumbs under the hem of the ribbed cotton of his vest and pushing it up over his chest. He has a hungry frame, not a scrap of softness to be found, just the stark plane of his stomach and the ridges of his ribs under your fingers. It suits him, matches the hunger in his eyes, the hunger that you see flickering when he peels the vest off over his head and tosses it to one side. You press your hands up to his sternum, feeling his heartbeat, and he closes one hand over them, smiling down at you as he frees his cock from its confines with the other. He’s uncut, his tip a deep fuchsia pink and weeping, and all you can think about when you see it is how he will feel against you. How he will taste. How it will feel to have him wedged deep in your cunt.

Happily, Al obliges on the first count, leaning down to kiss you, the tip of his cock pressing warm against the softness of your stomach. You kiss more, rolling, shifting, your fingers in his hair, his roving over the contours of your back, until you are side by side on the bed, skin to skin.

You love his cock. You love the hot, turgid weight of it against your hand, your stomach, your thigh. The way he beads with wetness at his tip, the trail he leaves against your skin like a proof of desire. To feel Al press it against you is a surge of warmth to the bottom of your spine, a building pulse between your legs. He’s not even seeking egress, just sliding that silky solidity over your skin in an act that has you feeling completely and utterly wanted. You touch him, stroking your palm up over his shaft, and he allows himself to groan, rutting into your hand and against your body all at once.

You shuffle up the bed a little, until your nose is level with his collar, then hook one leg over his hip, parting yourself with one hand as you guide his cock with another, so that he rests between your inner lips. He rolls his hips in a slow, considered motion, and it is you who are sloppy; slick with arousal and reckless with desire.

The noise in Al’s throat is a pleased growl, his hand sliding round over your hip. He’s not trying to get inside, not really, just enjoying the sensation of you rolling your hips so that his cock grazes your clit and entrance in turn. He stills your hip with his hand, mirroring your motion with a roll of his hips that has him rutting through the boat of your labia. There’s a purr in your throat at the feel of him, hot satin sheathed steel.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, chouchoute.” Al’s sugar laden bedroom voice brings you back to the present, the vibration of it palpable with your face against his narrow chest. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips though, something for which you are grateful as the zenith of each arc brings new pleasurable sensation.

You speak against his skin, and it’s harder to talk dirty to him than with another client, even now with his cock rutting between your lips. “You could make me come like this,” you say, face hot, and hear his soft groan in response.

“Would you like that?” he asks, his cock sliding between your legs again, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You don’t even say yes, just press your face open mouthed against his chest and shoulder. You feel his soft huff of laughter, his grip on your hip tightening as he angles a little more perfectly, and the long roll of his hips becomes a movement that is tighter and more focused, a back-and-forth that brings a cry unbidden from your lips.

You are swearing, soft and sweet against his skin as he grinds an orgasm from you, the tip of his cock kissing your entrance as his shaft presses firm into your clit. It’s like his lips on your cheek, a sensation that’s going to linger like a phantom in your body long after Alastor himself has left. It’s more than the exquisite sensation, each nerve ending alight, but the knowledge of his desire; his long fingers gripping the flesh of your hip and the groan from his chest as he feels you tremble, orgasm close.

“Fuck,” you breathe, as you feel yourself fall, your hole fluttering around nothing, the entirety of your core seeming to pulse in time. Al tilts your chin up, pulling your face from his skin, and kisses you while you’re still in the middle of it. There is nothing needy in his lips and the touch of his tongue. Rather than an entreaty his mouth is a gift. His hand on your cheek is a gift, his hand on your hip is a gift. And his cock, its weeping tip brushing your entrance. That will be yours, too, as soon as you say the word.

His touch is a flame that laps at firewood, and you bathe yourself in it, pressing your quivering body against his, your softness against his hungry lines. Another kiss, another roll, and you are pulling him atop you, face to face, his knees between your legs. Another man would be in you to the hilt now, but Al is polite to a fault. Patient, he waits for your hands on his hips, your legs hooking around the back of his knees.

You kiss him as you pull him inside you, your hands on his narrow ass as you feel the cry the act pulls from his chest, the shiver that runs down his back. His cock is everything that it promised, filling your cunt with its weight and heat, but what’s more is that it’s his. More delicious than the sensation of him moving inside you is his response; the way his grip on you tightens, his mean jazz piano fingers no longer playing a melody but merely a rhythm that matches the beating of your heart, the way his hips twitch for you, his breath catching, and the way he moans soft against your lips.

When he opens his eyes they are unfocused; for the first time since you first met him they don’t have the look of a man in a hopeless kind of pit. They are the eyes of a man lost in the moment, in your moment. Al is a gift, and your heart tells you to treasure him.

“You feel so good inside me,” you tell him, and it’s no professional courtesy, but an honest and unvarnished truth, words spilling out of you as his cock pushes in. Then Al lifts your legs to get himself deeper, and you are the one who is lost. There’s no artistry to the fuck, but it’s not needed, not with your cunt still tender from your first orgasm and your toes pointing to the ceiling. The sensation is strong enough that it threatens to overwhelm, the metronome of Al’s hips drawing note after tremulous note from your voice box, and the feel of him is sublime. He puts a hand on your mons, thumb stroking your clit, and the sensation of that is something you would willingly succumb to forever. It’s his name on your lips as you orgasm round his cock, and he grins down at you, teeth white as fresh-starched shirt collars.

“You’re enjoying me so far, chouchoute?” he asks, fingers tracing the contours or your cheek, the contours of your bruises.

“Al.” You pause to kiss his fingers, an aftershock that you’re sure that both of you feel running through you. “You are a wonder of a man.”

“Someone’s good at flattery,” he says, a gentle kiss to your lips, but he’s not so good an actor that you can’t see he’s proud of himself, proud of the state he’s got you in, all boneless and glowing.

“But what about you?” you ask, a hand down his warm side, to his hip. “You’re just gonna make me go again and again, and nothing for you?”

“It’s a change of pace for you,” he says, and he pulls out of you, leaving you achingly, tragically empty.

“Who’s to say I don’t enjoy seeing a man satisfied?” you say, your hand finding his gleaming cock, drenched in your slick, and squeezing. Al breathes out, slow and shaky, lowering his face to yours.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, lips against your ear, voice low in his register. “I can spend myself over you, then attend you again as you lie covered in my regards.”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice higher than you intend, and he closes his hand over yours around his cock, nudging you supine as he pumps the shaft. His weeping slit smears against the skin of your stomach at the nadir of each stroke, and you can feel the state of him under your fingers, still slick with your juices. How he swells, harder and hotter, his grip forcing yours firmer until at last he spills himself, a line up your stomach and chest. His breath is unsteady as his cock pulses in your hand, and he strokes a hand up your body, smearing his seed into your skin.

“Now you,” Al says, a little breathless as he crawls backwards over your body, soft kisses in places his cock has marked. His long fingers find your sex, parting your lips and drawing slick across your folds. “How would you like to climax next, chouchoute? My fingers? My mouth?”

“Your mouth?” you repeat, heat spreading through your core. Even here in Storyville, there are not many men willing to kiss a whore’s cunt.

Al’s smile widens, showing teeth, and you realize belatedly that with his fingers between your folds he can feel the surge of wetness that seeps from you at the mere thought. “I think you like that idea,” he says, and he pushes two long fingers inside you.

He fucks his fingers in and out of you, and you bite your lip as you feel him start to press against spongy tissue. Girls make jokes about musicians and their fingers, but you know firsthand that the finest musician in the world isn’t much use if he doesn’t know the instrument. If a guy doesn’t know the curve of your walls, to smear slick up and over the hood of your clit, it doesn’t matter a damn how well he can play the steel guitar.

Al can play a woman’s body well enough to hit the high notes. His fingers curl and drag, and the noise the action brings from you was one you didn’t know you could make. There are tears in your eyes from the intensity of it, and it is all you can do not to beg him for more. All the while he moves down your body, his mouth soft over the skin of your chest, your stomach, your hips. His breath is hot, even in the summer evening heat, and Al is smiling all the while, glancing back up at you to see your expression.

You wonder what you look like to him as his breath graces your inner thighs, his lips brushing teasingly on the fragile skin there. Are you a thing of beauty, to be treasured and worshiped, or merely a needy wretch, trembling and panting, each movement tantamount to begging for his touch? Perhaps both. He curls his fingers inside you once more as his tongue touches hot and slick against your overwrought clitoris.

You had expected his cock, wanted his cock, but to feel his mouth on you is something else. It is bliss. Pure, untrammeled bliss. He leaves you with nothing but sensation, the flat of his tongue pressing, laving, until it becomes too much and you want to cry out, then the seal of his lips on your slick, engorged flesh, a little suction, a noise of appreciation in his throat. You stop watching, surrendering fully, his long fingers hitting a sweetness as his tongue strokes on bliss. There are no thoughts in your head anymore, only his touch. Your hips are bucking, uncontrolled, your fingers in his hair, and still he gives, his honeyed tongue sweeter than even his words had been.

It’s with a broken cry that you cum on his fingers, and he stills for you, breath hot on the lips of your cunt, fingers still inside you as you tremble and quake.

He crawls up your body again, folding your limp form in his long, thin arms, a pleased hum in his chest.

“You’re satisfied with my end of the bargain, I hope?” he asks, and it’s not a mercenary question from him, paired as it is with a kiss to the top of your head.

The notion of proposing marriage to him swims through your sex-addled brain before you remember that jobs are thin on the ground in Louisiana right now and you have rent to pay. You swallow down romance and sentiment, which is difficult with those arms around you, but you manage it. “You best not set up shop here,” you say. “The girls downstairs would be spending their whole night’s earnings for just a couple minutes with you.”

“That’s a good thing, surely.”

“They’d make themselves destitute.”

You feel his thin chest shake as he gives a soft bark of laughter, but there’s relief in there too, and gratitude. He holds you a little tighter, longer than he needs to. You let yourself enjoy it.

“The name?” he asks, when that moment of softness has passed.

“Elijah,” you say. “My boyfriend.”

“Former boyfriend, I’d hope,” says Alastor, pointedly. He has the hungry look in his eyes again, the look like he’s trapped and digging his way out. The look you like.

You touch your face, where the bruise is swelling beneath your makeup. “Sure looks like it’s going that way, yeah.”

Alastor leaves by the window that night. You fold his clean clothes and put them in your tea chest, in case he comes back, his little sleeve garters and his ribbed cotton vest and all of it, smelling faintly of him. He doesn’t return.

The next morning, when you go back to the rented room that you share with your boyfriend, there’s no sign of him, either.

[weediewrites]

New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

[popamolly]

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR

summary. Alastor grapples with the realization that he might actually have feelings for you, as you contend with the internal conflict of obeying your mother's wishes or pursuing your own happiness.

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

warnings. dark romance, smut if you squint, human!alastor, age gap! you’re in your early 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s, you're naive, Alastor preys on your innocence, blood, kidnapping, implied murder, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. thank you so much for 800 followers! as well as the amount of love this story is getting! i am enjoying writing for human!Alastor and can’t for you all see where i’ll take this. enjoy sinners. (also, if you saw the rough draft and all the mistakes, no you didn’t)

One moment you were on Alastor’s cluttered desk and the next you were in his spacious bed. You had no idea how you got there as it all remained a mysterious blur. The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on both of your bodies as you two continued to move in sync with one another. Straddling his waist, the rhythmic dance against his hips had your head tossed back in pure bliss. It was a slow, deep, sensation that was vastly different from a few hours before.

His fingernails dragged across your back as he watched your face contort in pleasure, he loved the sight of you— the various marks on you caused by him stirred something within him. It made him wonder how many times can he break you before you crumbled into a million of tiny pieces.

Before you knew it, you were waking up in Alastor’s bed again, only this time you were alone just as the sun reached its peak in the sky. The sunlight was so bright you had to squint your eyes as you sat up in the bed. A delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast wafted through the air making your stomach grumble. Knowing that Alastor was perhaps in the kitchen, you pull the sheets from over you and go to stand, your legs felt like jelly and the soreness you felt in between your legs truly made it harder to walk.

You scanned the room for something to wear. All traces of modesty had disappeared since Alastor had taken you across nearly every piece of furniture in his possession, at that point what did you have to be modest about? Opting for one of his blouses, you opened his closet with the expectation of finding a more varied collection, only to discover that each blouse and pair of trousers adhered to a more monochromatic theme.

While reaching for a shirt, you accidentally knocked down another hanger. As you got on your knees to searched for the fallen garment on the floor, your fingertips brushed against a wooden box that was neatly tucked away into the shadows of the closet, sparking your curiosity. You sat down on the floor of the closet, dragging the box toward you to open it- but it was locked.

You decided to leave it be, excusing it as a mere heirloom or something of importance to Alastor. It was left in the back of your mind as you retreat from the closet, you changed into the blouse before leaving his bedroom to follow the delightful scent of breakfast- but before you left the room, you couldn't resist picking up Alastor's forgotten glasses from his nightstand.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the delicious scent of breakfast intensified. The memories of the night before lingered in your mind, a mix of passion and tenderness with Alastor. The soreness between your legs served as a reminder of the intimate moments you shared.

You found Alastor humming a jazz tune as he cooked, completely absorbed in his culinary endeavors. The clinking of utensils against pans filled the air, harmonizing with his cheerful humming. He turned to look at you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, good morning, my dear," Alastor greeted, his tone a mix of charm and, at least you hoped, genuine affection. "I hope you slept well."

"Goodmorning Alastor, I did sleep well, thank you," you returned his smile, feeling a sense of comfort in the domestic scene. The small kitchen table was set for two, adorned with a simple but elegant lace. Alastor had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane tasks seem like an art form.

You took a seat at the table, placing his glasses carefully beside you. Alastor joined you, serving a delicious-looking breakfast onto your plate.

"Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the spread before you. "We had a long night so I am sure you are quite famished.”

You looked down at your silverware as you thanked him, your entire body heating up at the mention of your shared affairs last night as you dug into the meal, savoring the flavors. The comfortable silence between you and Alastor spoke volumes, a example of the connection formed between you two during the night.

Alastor sat across from you with a delighted hum, newspaper in hand while he sipped from his coffee mug in the other, "And how are you faring, my dear? I supposed I did get quite carried away." He broke the domestic silence with a grin, his eyes looking over your neck that was littered with marks. His marks.

"I'm fine," You say honestly, "I enjoyed it really, it was good...for my first time." You all but whispered the last part.

"Well that eases my worry," Alastor puts on his glasses to rest them on the bridge of his nose as he looks over his newspaper again, turning the page as he crosses his right leg over his left, “Let me know if you prefer tea in the morning, I have some brewing on the stove for the afternoon.”

Tea. You audibly gasp at the word as the realization dawned on you. You were supposed to be at home, sick in bed, and drinking tea— that was your cover for the night but the night was long since over. Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was thirty minutes until eight o’clock, which was the usual time for breakfast to be served at your house. Your mother always expected you at the table a minute before her, groomed and ready for the day ahead. If you weren’t there on time then surely it’ll cause suspicion.

“I hate to cut this short but I have to go,” You hurriedly gobble up the rest of your food before standing up from your chair, “I have to be home soon or my mother will kill me!”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at the irony in that, “Surely, you have time to at least finish your coffee?”

You spared the moment a thought but ultimately shook your head, “I’m sorry but I can’t,” you walked past Alastor to go into his bedroom to slip on your clothes from the night before. His footsteps followed, accompanied by the jingle of car keys in hand.

As you hurriedly grabbed your belongings, Alastor offered to ease your worry with a smile, "I'll drive you home. No need to rush alone in your state of distress."

Grateful for the assistance, you nodded in agreement, and together, you both left his place. You felt different now, a bit lighter, more mature as you slipped into the passenger side of Alastor's car. He held the door open and closed it for you like a true gentleman. The car ride was filled with light banter, Alastor's charismatic demeanor easing the tension that lingered from your hasty departure.

Once you reached your home, Alastor parked the car a little ways away from your estate and turned to you. "Thank you for the company, darling. I hope your mother's wrath is not as fearsome as you anticipate."

You chuckled nervously, appreciating his understanding. "I hope so too. And thank you for everything, Alastor.. I enjoyed our time together."

He leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and planted a gentle kiss on your lips. "Until we meet again," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

With a promise to see each other soon hanging in the air, you slipped through the back door of your home, grateful for the concealment it offered. Hastily, you made your way to your room, hurriedly taking off the clothes from the night before taking a moment to compose yourself. You had only a few minutes to spare and you couldn't waste them.

After freshening up in your own personal water closet, you did your hair as neatly, and quickly, as you could— following up with a light touch of makeup. The faint taste of Alastor's farewell kiss lingered, and you couldn't help but smile at your reflection in the mirror. Now, groomed and ready, you braced yourself for the day ahead and the potential questions your mother might have about your ailment.

You rushed downstairs into the dining room, the scent of freshly brewed tea and warm toast filling the air. Just as you took your seat, your mother entered, her expression stoic. Unfazed, you greeted her with a bright smile, attempting to mask any trace of your recent escapades.

"Good morning Mother, How did you sleep?" you asked cheerfully, reaching for the toast as if it were any ordinary morning.

Your mother eyed you with a raised eyebrow, as she sat down at the head of the table, allowing the maid beside her to pour her tea, "Well enough, dear. I found myself tossing and turning all night. And you? That cold seemed to be really troubling you last night."

You laughed nervously, hoping your casual demeanor would deflect any probing questions. "It was, I could hardly get out of bed last night but thankfully sleep eventually came."

She continued to observe you, suspicion lingering in her gaze. Of course she knows you snuck out but she wouldn't reveal her cards too early. She would let you have this win for now in the hopes that when your rendezvous did come to light, your spirit would be so crushed by then that you'd have no other choice but to lean on your mother for support because she knew that this was a mere distraction for you and you were nothing but a toy to the man that wanted to use you. Your mother should know, after all she was a young girl once herself. "Mm-hmm," she responded, not fully convinced as she eyed the turtleneck dress you wore. "Anything interesting happen last night?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure. "Not really, just a quiet night. How about you? Anything exciting on your end?"

She hesitated, scrutinizing you for a moment before deciding to drop the subject. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual."

Relieved, you continued with a light breakfast, inwardly sighing at the narrow escape. Little did your mother know about the intriguing night you had spent with Alastor, and you hoped to keep it that way—for now, at least.

As you sipped your tea, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further inquiries, your mother decided to drop a bombshell. With a casual tone, she announced, "Silly me, but I forgot to mention that we're hosting a party in two days. We must prepare you for that so I have list of errands we need to run. Oh, and I've decided it's time that I take over in your matchmaking process."

Your eyes widened in surprise, nearly choking on your tea. "A party? Matchmaking? Mom, that's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

Your mother smiled innocently as she was spreading jam on her toast. "Nonsense, dearest. You've had quite a bit of freedom lately, and I think it's only fair that I take charge of finding you a suitable partner."

You were taken aback by the revelation. "Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle my own affairs. I don't need you picking a match for me."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "And where has that led us? It's time to consider your future. I've arranged for some eligible suitors to attend the party, and by the end of the night, we'll have a decision."

You felt a sense of frustration and helplessness. The control over your own choices slipping away yet again, replaced by the traditional expectations your mother seemed determined to enforce. As you finished your breakfast, a sense of foreboding settled in—the upcoming party was more than just a social gathering. It held the potential to reshape your life in ways you may not be ready for.

As the conversation about the upcoming party lingered, a maid entered the room, carefully placing a radio on the table. You couldn't help but notice that this particular maid was new, and a quick glance around revealed that the other servants bustling about the home were also unfamiliar faces.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you leaned in and asked your mother, "Mother, What happened to our usual staff?"

Your mother, engrossed in the morning radio, responded nonchalantly, "Oh, I fired them, dear. They simply weren't meeting my standards. Now, please hold your tongue; I'm trying to listen to the morning news."

You were left you speechless, a mix of surprise and concern washing over you. The familiar faces that had been a constant presence in your household were replaced without warning. You couldn't help but wonder what had transpired behind the scenes and what might be the real reason for this sudden change. Then you realized that maybe your mother knew of your outing with Alastor and she was acting like she didn't, and if she was, why was she acting clueless?

Your mind began swirling with questions about the upcoming party, the matchmaking, and now the unexplained dismissal of the longtime staff. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about the changes that were unfolding in your once-familiar surroundings.

"Oh, what a delightful morning it is! I trust everyone enjoyed a restful night, as I certainly did!" Alastor's voice resonated through the radio, carrying a distinct weight. Despite being the renowned radio show host, he seemed like an entirely different person. Though the broadcast introduced some static, his charm remained. "Let's kick off this morning with some smooth jazz tunes, shall we? I have Louis Armstrong & His Hot Seven's top hits ready to grace your ears! We'll return shortly after this brief interlude, folks!"

Alastor flipped off one switch on his microphone and activated another. The sounds of "Potato Head Blues" filled the airwaves, spreading throughout New Orleans. While the jazz played in the warehouse, Alastor rose from his chair with an irritated groan, heading towards a locked closet at the end of the hall. Using a key, he unlocked the door and descended the creaky wooden stairs. As he reached the bottom step, another voice in the room caught his attention.

"Mmmh!" The person, bound to a chair with a cloth in their mouth, struggled against their restraints, fear evident in their eyes as they observed Alastor approaching with a stoic expression. Tear-filled eyes followed his movements as he walked to a table in the corner, his fingertips brushing over an array of displayed knives. "Mmmph! Hmph!"

"Your grunts and stifled screams are growing rather tiresome," Alastor remarked, his hand hovering over one of his cherished knives with a sinister grin. Lifting it up, the blade gleamed in the light. "I understand it's rather solitary in this space. You were supposed to have a companion, but," Alastor pulled a wooden chair across the floor, creating an unsettling echo against the concrete. He positioned himself in front of the restrained individual, heightening the bone-chilling atmosphere, "plans change."

Alastor glided the blade deliberately across the person's cheek, the chilling touch of the metal causing involuntary shivers. Despite their struggles against the restraints, Alastor sighed, tapping the blade against their skin in a disturbingly mocking rhythm.

"This person, this woman," Alastor mused, tilting his head to the side, "is confusing me, and I don't like it." The sadistic atmosphere in the room thickened as he increased the pressure of the blade against their cheek, drawing blood. Suddenly, he halted, as if a realization had struck him.

"But I don't hate it either," Alastor declared with an unsettling calmness, leaving an ominous pause that lingered in the air. The duality of his emotions toward the captive person added a perplexing layer to the unfolding scene, intensifying the disturbing nature of the situation.

Alastor, maintaining his eerie composure, turned to the restrained person and asked, "What do you think? Is it true love?" A twisted amusement gleamed in his eyes as he awaited a response.

A cruel chuckle escaped him as he noticed the person's inability to answer, their mouth securely gagged. The absurdity of the question in the face of their silent predicament seemed to amuse the madman further. The room resonated with Alastor's unsettling laughter, creating an atmosphere of malevolence that hung heavily in the air. The captive, helpless and silenced, could only endure the scene unfolding before them knowing that this would be the last sight they ever see.

"One, two, three, one, two-" The ballroom echoed with the rhythmic counting of the waltz, your mother diligently guiding you through the steps. As you twirled with your elderly dance partner, your mind drifted to Alastor. The memory of dancing with him under the stars tugged at your heart, and an undeniable longing for him filled your thoughts.

In the midst of the waltz, you couldn't shake the yearning to be with him, whether listening to his radio broadcasts or engaging in casual conversations over coffee. The mere thought of Alastor sent your heart racing, leaving you flustered and questioning the nature of these emotions. Was this love? The answer seemed evident with each flutter of your heart, each bounce of the balls of your feet. Love, it seemed, had taken root in your heart.

The dance partner, an elderly servant, winced as your foot landed squarely on his toes. "I am so sorry!" you began to apologize, but your mother's sharp voice cut through the room.

"A woman must be graceful like a swan," she admonished, tapping the back of your thighs with a cane, the sting making you wince, "not a tumbling tiger."

"I—" You attempted to offer excuses, but your mother's stern gaze silenced you.

"You are distracted," she declared, shaking her head in disapproval. "I need you to dismiss whatever is taking over your mind and be present. The ball is tomorrow, and I can't have you embarrassing me on your big day." The weight of her expectations pressed upon you, urging you to set aside your personal feelings and focus on the upcoming event.

A heavy sigh escaped your mother's lips as she turned her attention to the elderly servant. "You may leave us," she instructed, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment. The servant bowed slightly, acknowledging the dismissal before exiting the ballroom.

Now alone, your mother circled you, her scrutinizing gaze causing you to shrink under her watchful eyes. The atmosphere grew tense as she examined you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

With each step, your mother's presence loomed, and the weight of her expectations seemed to intensify. The impending ball was not just an event; it was a reflection of her social standing, and any misstep could ruin her reputation. As she circled, you couldn't help but feel the pressure to conform to her ideals and expectations, the desire for personal connection and freedom momentarily eclipsed by the demands of societal decorum.

Your mother's gaze didn't miss the marks on your neck you tried to hide, remnants of the passionate night you spent with Alastor. She dismissed it with a grimace, a silent disapproval lingering in her expression.

As the tension in the room hung thick, your mother took a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak once again. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I was in love?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"Of course, you and father—" you began, but your mother cut you off with a firm gesture. "This was before your father. Before everything…before I became a woman of high society."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and you could sense that she was about to share a piece of her past, a side of her life that you hadn't even thought to acknowledge. As the ball loomed on the horizon, the barriers between you and your mother seemed to momentarily lower, providing a glimpse into a time when love and passion took precedence over societal expectations.

"I fell in love with a man during the summer months," your mother began, her voice carrying a bittersweet tone. She continued to circle you, sharing the intimate details of a past you had only glimpsed before. "He swept me off my feet quickly, and I was blinded by that love because, in my eyes, he was my happily ever after."

Your eyes widened as you listened intently to your mother's story. The ballroom, once filled with the echoes of waltz music, now held a poignant atmosphere as she delved into her personal history.

"I was merely a farmer's daughter, and he, a factory worker. It truly was a good match. But…" Her mother's expression darkened at the memory. "My dear, you can give a man everything, every ounce of your entire being, and he will still want more."

As the weight of her words settled, you could sense the bitter undertones of regret and heartache in your mother's story. It opened a window into her past, a time when love seemed boundless, yet reality had its own lessons to impart. The circling continued, each step a reminder of the complexities that love could bring.

"What I thought was love was nothing but a game to him," your mother continued, her voice carrying the weight of past heartache. The circling ceased abruptly, and her cane tapped hard against the ballroom floor as if emphasizing the gravity of her words. "He was gone with autumn, taking everything I had given him—my money, my body…my soul. I would've been truly ruined if it wasn't for your father."

She stood in front of you, gripping your chin harshly, forcing you to meet her gaze with glossy eyes. "I say all of that to say, do not be fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing."

The words hung in the air, resonating with the tale she had just shared. The ballroom, once a place of elegance and grace, now echoed with the cautionary wisdom of a mother who had weathered the storms of love and loss. The vulnerability in her eyes and the firmness of her grip conveyed the sincerity of her warning, urging you to tread carefully in matters of the heart.

"I don't care what you do from this point forward but know this, you will attend the ball in your honor and you will marry the man who I deem worthy of you, understood?" After your mother releases her grip from your chin, tapping her cane once more, she steps aside, allowing you to pass. "Practice is over. You may go," she declares.

The aftermath of this encounter leaves tears welling in your eyes and a heavy weight in your chest. Unable to meet your mother's gaze, you hurry past her, fleeing the ballroom without a backward glance. In your rush, you even collide with a maid, but offer no apology as you hurry out the front door. Emotions swirl within you, mingling anger towards your mother with a deeper frustration directed toward yourself. The struggle between fulfilling family expectations and pursuing your own happiness weighed heavily on your mind. Are you truly prepared to forsake everything for Alastor? And more importantly, would he do the same for you?

Descending the stone steps of your home in haste, you decided to find Alastor and confront the questions you've been avoiding. Only his response would determine your next move.

"Mr. Ray?" You lean down to peer through the driver's side window, where your family chauffeur is taking a cigarette break. His complexion blends seamlessly with the setting sun. "Could you take me somewhere?"

"Without your mother?" He arches an eyebrow. "I believe you still require a chaperone, young lady."

"She allowed me out for the afternoon as long as I am back before curfew. Please, I'll be under your watchful eye. I promise to behave," you nearly beg, your puppy-dog eyes meeting his.

With a resigned sigh, the chauffeur relents. "Get in," he says, giving in to your plea and falling for your sweet lie.

With a sense of purpose, you climbed into the car, knowing that the journey ahead would be filled with uncertainty but you were determined in proving your mother wrong, you wanted to follow your happiness and Alastor was that happiness because in your mind— no, in your heart, you knew you loved him.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

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

[jyoongim]

Feel absolutely free to delete this if it makes you uncomfortable but I would like to request human Alastor and a reader with an age gap between them.

Like I mean the reader is of course the age to concent but I like to imagine Alastor (who is canonically in his late thirties/early forties before he died) enjoying hearing reader calling him ‘daddy’ and begging him to put a baby in her.

Again feel free to reject

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OOOLLDDDEEEERRR DUNDUNDUN

Themes: age gap, Alastor is in late 30s, fem!reader, reader is in early 20s, term ‘daddy’ used sexual, slight breeding kink, baby fever, ovulation

Part 2

‘Aint he a bit…old?’

’oh honey the man is practically your father’

’You’re far too young to want to settle with that fossil’

’how do you expect him to raise children?’

’what he couldn’t find a woman his own age? Robbing the cradle ain’t he?’

Sometimes you’re a little wary of letting people meet your husband. Especially when he was 15 years older than you, a mere 23 year old.

Yes Alastor was a bit older than you, but you didn’t mind. 

You rather enjoyed having someone who has experienced the world a little and would happily provide for you.

The gossip about the two of you always gnawed at your nerves, but you didn’t care, not when he treated you like a princess. 

 Alastor gave you any and everything you needed and wanted, so to hell with the whispers.

As of late, you have been having baby fever. You swore your insides tingle when you are engaged with a child. Your ovaries screaming to have a little bundle of your own to care for.

It didn’t help you’re ovulating…and your husband was looking like he would make the best father for your kids.

The two of you were out in town shopping, when you spotted the cutest baby set. You tugged his arm, to gain his attention to the display in the window. “Darlin what is it?” He asked as you excitedly squealed. You turned to him, lips pouty and giving him your best puppy eyes as you pointed to the display “oh can we get it? Pleeeaaassseee baby. C’mon wont you buy it for me?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands dancing lightly along his neck as you pressed your lips to the corner of his.

You knew how to work him that’s for sure.

Alastor hummed tilting his head as he mulled it over. He could never tell you ‘no’, even if it was ridiculous. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, cock twitching in his trousers as you playfully bit it. “You are a little minx you know that?” He sighed, letting you drag him into the store.

“But why do you want baby clothes dear?” he genuinely asked, looking at the displays on a wall as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

You nipped at his ear, tugging the soft flesh cooing into his ear, voice soft and innocent “Because we're gonna need it when I have your baby. Wont you like that? To put a baby in me? Your baby. I think you’ll make a great Daddy. Dont you think daddy?” You purred making the tall man quickly pay for the clothes and drag you out the store, making you giggle.

——————————————————————————————————

"fuuuck, d-don't stop. Ah!" you moan as his cock rams into your pussy, feeling the stretch. His cock is going deep inside of your body, hitting the spongy nerve over and over, making you gush more around his already slicer-covered cock. Alastor’s fingers find your puffy, throbbing clit and he rubs it n tune with speed of his thrusts. Your eyes roll deep inside of your skull as you let out high pitched moans and whines. For once, Alastor is loud, groaning and cursing at the tightness of your pussy.  It’ll never not amaze him that no matter how many times he fucks you, you're always so tight, like you were made just for him.

"gonna cum inside f-fuck baby I’m gonna fill you up so much" he grunts you, kissing your shoulder as he angled his thrusts so he hits your sweet spot. you whine, you're so close, you arched your back to take the impact of his thrust deep into you.

"Oh fuck oo-Oh fuck ah ah ah Ha!f-fuck Al! I-im cumming! Oh god! Yes!" you cry out, toes curling as you push your ass back onto his cock. You mewled as clear liquid squirted out of you and made a mess of the bed. That alone with your cunt fluttering had his cock twitch and his release soon approaches.

"you want my babies? Huh? You gonna let me fuck a baby in you darlin?" he asks you, eyes fixated on his cock disappearing into the creamy mess that was your cunt. You babbled nonsense as your body tries to recover from your orgasm and twitching from overstimulation.

Alastor tugged your hair back, redirecting your attention as his cock slotted into you over and over. “You gotta use you words baby. C’mon what do you want from Daddy?” He grinned feeling your cunt clench.

You sobbed as you felt a finger in your ass, another orgasm raking through you “c-cum. I want your cum inside me. Please! Daddy please put a baby in me! i want to have your babies just please”

Alastor hummed as you cummed again, he laughed "Cant believe I made you cum without my tongue first. But don’t worry, ill give you that too, after I fuck my cum in your pussy. We want it to take don’t we? Yeeeaaa we do. C’mon baby take it take my cum, let me fuck a baby into you.” 

A harsh thrust had you see white and he slammed his lips on yours as his hips shuddered against your ass, cock twitching as he emptied his balls into you.

He sighed as he curled you into his chest, cock still buried inside you. He kissed your sweaty forehead, smiling  “You’ll make such a beautiful momma baby. I can’t wait to have several little ones running about” 

You tilted your head slightly “you want more than one?”

Alastor’s smile deepened “Oh you didn’t think I would stop at just one did you?”

Your cunt fluttered, making him laugh “seems we agree perfectly”

[jazzmasternot]

I feel bad for my future husband bc I just know ima be making him dress up as Alastor in bed. Ima be like

“cmon babe put on the red wig and pinstripe suit”

“Yes honey 😔”

[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

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

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.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION… PT.1 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.

No one could deny that.

Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.

You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.

From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.

Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.

Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.

If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.

Why?…

In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.

Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.

You were his darling from the very beginning…

His everything…

Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,

The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.

A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.

You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.

The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.

“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”

“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”

“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”

“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”

You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.

He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.

Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.

Cared for you…

Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.

Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.

Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.

Not even on your wedding day.

It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.

You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.

Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?

Was he seeing someone else?

Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?

Was she prettier?

Were you not his kind of woman?

Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…

Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?

Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?

Were you not enough for him?

Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.

Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.

He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.

Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.

You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.

What had upset his darling wife?

Who would he have to kill?….

Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.

He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.

Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.

“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.

Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.

“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.

“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.

Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”

You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.

Fake it.

I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…

It might push him further away…

The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.

Something was wrong.

He was sure of it now.

His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.

A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.

“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.

The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.

“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.

Nothing.

You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.

Had you planned on this?

Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?

All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…

Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.

Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.

“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”

Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.

“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.

Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.

“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.

His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.

“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.

Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.

“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.

Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.

You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.

The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.

Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?

No , it couldn’t be…

You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.

“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.

“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.

The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.

If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.

He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.

You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.

Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”

You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.

“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.

What?….How in the world did he do that?…

Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.

“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.

“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.

Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.

Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…

Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.

Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.

It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.

It was all too much at once….

Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.

“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.

He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”

His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.

You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.

“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.

All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.

His darling wife…

His one and only….

It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.

You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.

A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.

“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.

He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.

“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.

“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.

He knew it too…

That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…

Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..

“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.

You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”

Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.

“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”

Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.

“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.

All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.

“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”

His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.

Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.

“More than anything?…”

“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.

That was when it occurred to you…

Alastor Hartiflet could love…

He’d always been able to….

And he loved you enough to share it with another…

How surreal….

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.

[lurochar]

Adrenaline Rush

Warnings: A tiny bit of somnophilia. Alastor is fucking creepy (but still a simp for you)

18+ MDNI

‐-----------------------------------

The jolts of pleasure.

The cooing murmurs in your ear.

The heated body leaning over yours.

The fingers that are pumping in and out of you.

You're not sure which one of these things ultimately awakens you from your slumber – it could be all four, it probably was all four, but the thought quickly fades when you let out a drowsy moan, still half-asleep even as arousal causes your skin to tingle and your body start to tremble.

“Ah, did I wake you up, Darling?” 

Your eyelids are heavy, but you open them halfway to see Alastor hovering over you and it's only because you're not fully conscious that you don't notice some alarming details about your husband.

He, of course, knows this and uses it to his advantage.

“I didn't mean to wake you.” Alastor hums, not stopping in the least as your hazy eyes meet his. He always made sure you got far more drunk than you usually would care to on his planned ‘hunting’ nights. “You were just so…stunning, I couldn't help myself.”

Your vision was a little blurry, you're sure drool was dribbling down one side of your face, little whimpers are escaping you, and tears are beginning to form in your glazed eyes.

Alastor only pumps his fingers faster into your slick cunt at the sight of your dazed expression, feeling his heart race just as it did earlier that evening.

If you could comprehend his expression at the moment, would you be afraid of him? 

Alastor was sure he was giving off a frenzied vibe, his smile was unhinged and his eyes were completely manic, pupils still dilated from the adrenaline rush – the one he was still high on from hunting down that absolute scumbag who dared to grope and verbally assault you when you had been out alone grocery shopping for dinner.

He wanted to keep riding that high as long as he could. 

It was a pain, but he hid the body for now to deal with after he was done with you. He rushed to cleanse himself of any blood and gore before hurrying to you before his adrenaline rush wore off.

Alastor adored you, he did, and sex with you was as best it could with his extremely low libido. You didn't seem to mind. However, now he found it to be better than any drug – he just needed to murder some degenerate beforehand.

For you, to please you, he would murder thousands if he had to.

You just never needed to find out.

“A-Alas-” Your hand clutches at his arm as a third finger jams into your warm wet hole and his thumb strokes that bundle of nerves and you're sure you're crying. You don't even know, your brain is mushy and your head is spinning. “I…I'm…” You slurred, not even able to think straight enough to finish your sentence.

“Come undone, Darling. For me.” Alastor doesn't let up and it feels like his heart is beating out of his chest when you let out a sob and he feels your slick walls clamp down on his fingers and a rush of warmth soaks his arm.

Just seeing you in such a debauched state could make him cum in his pants.

Alastor kissed your temple, seeing that you were already passing out again. He strokes your hair a few times, pondering for the next time.

How did you feel about somnophilia?

[6esiree]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐧

“If you told me about the darkness inside of you,” You whispered as you straddled his lap, blissfully unaware of the dry blood hidden beneath his fingernails—or so that’s what he believed. “I would still look at you as if you were the sun.”

“Oh, sweetness,” Alastor whispered back, the barest hint of a smile gracing his sharp features as you dipped your head and pressed your supple lips against the apple of his throat, making it bob in anticipation. “What are you trying to suggest?”

You placed one feather-like kiss after the other on the expanse of Alastor’s throat, your red lipstick transferring onto his caramel skin, the grip he had on your waist tightening as your lips traveled lower, and lower, and lower… eliciting sinful noises from the usually quiet man that had your lacey underwear drenched heavily in your arousal.

“I’m not trying to suggest anything, my dear husband,” Your words caressed his exposed chest, and he would have responded if your tongue hadn’t mischievously flicked at his nipple, his hips bucking up and bumping against your clothed clit at the unfamiliar yet pleasant sensation.

“Then, pray tell, what did you mean by your statement?” Alastor affectionately carded a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over your face to gauge your reaction. “About this… supposed darkness inside of me?”

His brows knitted together, confused and yet also intrigued, as you reached up and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand down to your mouth. And there you went again with that tongue of yours, placing it slack against his palm and traveling up, and up, and up till it found his slender fingers.

Alastor was painfully aware of the blood hidden beneath his fingernails that he hadn’t had the opportunity to properly wash away, so he tried to gently tug his hand away from you. However, you held onto his wrist with a vice-like grip, your lips wrapping around his fingers and… sucking?

A strangled groan escaped Alastor’s throat as you swallowed two of his fingers till the very last knuckle, your heavy-lidded gaze fixated on him. You slowly bobbed your head up and down, his cock straining against his briefs as you deprived it of the attention it so desperately craved.

“You only want me—sexually—after you’ve killed somebody,” You bluntly stated after you pulled away from his fingers with a ‘Pop!’, his brows shooting past his hairline. “I followed you during one of your hunting trips, that’s how I know.”

You did what? You followed him on one of his late-night escapades because…? But you chose not to reveal to your dear husband what motivated you to do such a foolish thing, shuffling down on the bed and tugging his briefs down, his weeping cock smacking against his toned stomach.

“And are you not afraid of me?” Alastor asked you, supporting himself on his elbows. He usually relished in watching you swallow his cock after a…successful hunt, but he couldn’t seem to do that right now. “Or at least disgusted by me?”

You said ‘No’ with an unmistakeable certainty behind your voice before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, giving the head a wet, sloppy kiss, the filthy sound resonating throughout your bedroom. And then you wrapped your lips around him and swallowed him much like you had his fingers.

As you hollowed your cheeks, you made sure to display just how much you had meant that simple phrase with every bob of your head, every heavy suck, and every swirl of your tongue when you pulled back to give your aching jaw a break from that long, thick cock God had graced him with.

“I meant it when I said that I would still look at you as if you were the sun,” You reiterated, your hand dutifully pumping his cock, the way it tensed in your palm indicating that he was close, “If you told me about the darkness inside of you.”

You stared up at Alastor through your full lashes, waiting—no, anticipating his response as your tongue darted past your now swollen lips and pressed against the head of his cock, so eager to taste the thick, hot ropes of cum that was just about ready to come out.

“I’ve murdered people—reduced them to nothing but animals,” Alastor shakily spoke, his hands clutching onto the bedsheets as he neared his peak, “And you’re telling me that you’d still regard me as high as the brightest star in our universe?”

All it took was a nod from you and, of course, some encouraging pumps to have his cock pulsating and heavily coating your tongue, your cheek, and even your brow with his cum, a moan tumbling from his lips as he observed the sinful display before him with his undeserving eyes.