#you are just so fucking nifty

[arcielee]

⭐️- Put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. It’s time to spread positivity 💖🌈💜

Miranda! 💜

[thatdemiboymess]

Reasons that I, personally, just really dislike Taylor Swift:

She's carbon emission queen of the world and decided to send a cease-and-desist to and then even attempted to sue the student who revealed as such despite the fact that the information used to do so is public information. Truly, I could simply just call it there and not go further, but I will.

Her ideas of feminism are vapid and very white privilege centric-

Which ties heavily into her casual fatphobia and also her ableism/saneism (intentional or otherwise)-

And her continued cultural appropriation which even goes on into downright romanticization of white euro-centric colonization in some of her songs/music videos.

She also sells herself as an underdog despite the fact that she just never was one. Both of her parents were and still are well off - her father comes from three generations of bank presidents and her mother works in finance - and truly they put as much of that money as they could towards Taylor's dream. Her parents literally flew her near daily to expensive voice training and singing lessons, karaoke competitions, and more, from as young as age 10, and even bought her a new convertible Lexus for her 16th birthday. So her selling herself as an underdog just feels ingenuine and the fact that she doesn't acknowledge that she isn't an underdog and actually comes from a place of privilege irks me, greatly, and adds to the general feeling of her being an ingenuine person.

And she drags other artists down - even going so far as to release 34 versions of the same album with many regional variations in a bid to remain at the top of the charts when artist Charli XCX, with her album Brat, artist Jon Bovi, and artist Chappell Roan, with her album Midwest Princess, took the top spots on the charts. Taylor and Charli XCX may not have beef with each other but this move was still incredibly greedy and pathetic, in my opinion, and adds to my dislike of her as an artist and a person, personally.

[bbybearcubbs]

I just finished Hazbin Hotel AND HOLY FUCKING FUCK!!! THERE'S SO MANY QUESTIONS LEFT!!! SO MUCH NEW INFORMATION TO UNPACK!!! SO MUCH I WANNA SEE FROM THE MAIN CREW!!! AND SO SO SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS!!!

FUCK man I have a massive headache from all the screaming and crying I just did but HOLY FUCKING HELL man was that amazing!!!

I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED FOR SEASON 2!!! IT CANNOT GET HERE FAST ENOUGH OMG

[faceofpoe]

sometimes I think too hard about the logic of the clone army, from the perspective of the clone army, and just about break my brain.

[theatrekidsstuff]

This my friends is an example of be careful for what you wish for! 🥲

IF YOU READ THE TAGS THEY’RE SPOILERS!!!

[wolfprincess1229]

You know my dad made an account on Instagram AND tumblr to follow me and make sure I’m not posting anything bad well lol #helicopterbit also you’re my favorite parent rn so you’re chill

[deadghosy]

Hey!! I have a request! Could you do the hazbin hotel characters and fem! CatNap reader! I know CatNap is a boy but I would like to see what kind of head canons they would have for a female version of CatNap. Also maybe reader would love chasing things around since cats do that?

HAZBIN HOTEL X FEM CATNAP!READER HEADCANNONS

prompt: you are female resident who helps sinners with insomnia

OKAY FIRST OFF! YOU DEFINITELY STILL SMELL LIKE VANILLA AND LAVENDER!🦆 NO ONE CAN ARGUE ABOUT THIS TO ME 😭

What I headcannon is kinda cartoony as reader has her legs cross as she just nods listening to a sinner’s sleep problem as she is just wearing glasses and a vest. Dead ass she just knocks them out like. “Problem solved!”

Charlie made you a room so residents and sinners could come in and have you help them sleep. Like either you knock them out and walk away. Or you actually stop being a lazy mofo and help them personally.

I headcannon based on the fluffy plush bodies that reader is still flat like the male catnap, cause obviously she doesn’t have a chest just like the plush body of Bobby bearhug. That’s basically how I imagine reader’s body is with her being like a little more skinny but definitely having trouble with people asking what her gender is.

“I’m a fucking cat, that’s what I am.” Is what reader would say irritated as it’s obvious in her feminine/decent voice.

Sassy catnap!reader is a goal as you would literally just do shit for shits and giggles😭✨🔥

Headcannon you have a purple vest with a white dress shirt and a black or white skirt with a few moon patterns on it while the color of your dress shirt as a moon pendent💗🦆

You straight up knocked a person out with your red smoke because they had sexualized you during the session and all you had to say was. “Oh really? Count to three…” “count to wh-” immediate knocked out as they fell face first from the chair as you smile with a full grin.

You used your claws to cut open a piece of candy for nifty as she hugs you and walked away happy. You love helping….

Alastor ran from you as you were chasing after him like a predator because he said he doesn’t need sleep…okay so imagine this….

You are sneaking like a lion behind Alastor as he drinks tea and he is like “I feel watched” with a sweatdropped and next thing people see in the halls is you grinning as you drag a motionless Alastor who still holds his tea up.

You wrapped your tail around Charlie to help her put up a banner as you file your claws as it was time to trim them. Like I imagine that as vaggie is like “What.” With a blank confused face seeing her girlfriend get lifted by a 8ft tall female cat

I can see reader having those teas that help people to sleep just incase they don’t like being passed out “force”. So you just make them tea as you listen to them rant as they fall asleep

Imagine reader reading a book as Lucifer is having a hyper moment behind her as she just peacefully reads….

It gives off “calm friend x hyper friend” vibes

Lucifer had one time patted you, and kept petting you until you purred so he can feel relaxed. He likes your purrs.

The duck king definitely has a picture of you purring on his lap…he even has it as his wallpaper kinda because of how soft and good smelling your fur is

OOOH IMAGINE YOU AND ANGEL HAVING A FASHION SHOW IN HIS ROOM💗🦆

Angel definitely gets you some nice clothes to match your aesthetic or purple clothing with white and cream.

You carry nifty in your mouth as if she was your kit….its cute okay…like niffty straight up smile as you hold her like your own kitten.

“This is ma mom now!” Nifty says happily as you just walk around with the back of her dress in your mouth.

Cherri bomb was good about you by Angel dust as Angel had put an image of how cool and badass you are at not following the rules. She always tries to persuade you into giving her your red smoke to make bombs out of it. SHE ONLY WANTS TO CAUSE DESTRUCTION!!!🦆‼️

Sir Pentious brings his egg boiz to you when they can’t sleep so you can use your red smoke on them. They snuggle in your purple fur as you just play a lullaby for them

I imagine you and husk purring by each other out of no where confused…but it’s because of your peaceful scent installed in your fur and body.

You still have your signature cocky smile before you knock a bitch out with the gas coming from your mouth.

I can see how you have a moon ring as [favorite hazbin hotel character] has a sun ring to show off your friendship with them

Imagine how reader gets groomed by the whole hazbin hotel crew because of their 8ft tall frame…there’s a lot of extra work in grooming your fur.

You definitely have those candles as well with that lavender smell with hint of vanilla. You have so much aromatherapy stuff for people. You might as well be the aroma goddess-

I headcannon you using your demon form (basically that form where the player sees catnap as a skinny monster) to scare people 😭 you’re an asshole as I imagine Angel getting ready for his morning to only see you behind the shower curtain with a creepy smile

Angel screamed and ran out the room looking crazy…..😭 Charlie found out and made you apologize to Angel as he was locked in his room..

He’s definitely not going to the bathroom alone-

Just like my other catnap! Reader, you definitely walk around slowly but stealthy releasing that poppy gas just incase a resident or your friends try sneaking out. “It’s time for bed…” you says quietly as you move smoothly around the hotel hallways

Just like before, Lucifer was scared of you until you showed him you can be quite the loving person you can be. Like Lucifer will lay on your body for comfort if he was getting busy from paper work in his office.

I can imagine Angel trying to get you to use your gas on Valentino and you’re like “sure” as you put a jar to your mouth and release it and give it to Angel.

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 13)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Part 13:

After practically being dragged by Vaggie back into the main lobby of the hotel with Alastor quietly humming behind the two of you, you were basically swarmed by Charlie, Angel, Husk and Nifty.

"WHERE WERE YOU? I was so scared!" Charlie barely manages to get out past the blubbering tears streaming down her face as she hugs you.

Angel examined your body with all of his arms, checking to make sure you were okay, "Geeze, toots, how'd you manage to survive that long against Smiles over there? I was sure you'd be dead meat!"

Husk gave you a glance up and down, "Glad you're alright. I'd hate to miss out on getting to know another drinking buddy." Husk glances over to Angel and grumbles under his breath, "You owe me $50."

"You were betting on if (y/n) was alive???" Vaggie groans, hands rubbing her face in exasperation.

Nifty is basically hyperventilating in your face, sniffing and examining your hair strand by strand, "Yup- still gross- EW!" Before she launches off your shoulders to go and do god knows what somewhere in some far corner of the hotel...

You let out a breathy chuckle, "I appreciate the concern... and the vote of confidence... Angel..." You give a sarcastic glare over in the spider's direction, earning a sheepish smile from Angel.

Taking Charlie's hands in your's, you take one of your hands to dry the tears from her eyes and say, "Charlie, you don't need to cry. You're such a sweet girl. I honestly can't thank you- and Vaggie-" you smile in Vaggie's direction before continuing, "- for saving my life and bringing me here to the Hazbin Hotel. I came here to find the love of my life- back from when I was alive. It's only been a few hours, yet you've already helped me fulfill the goal I've been trying to achieve for decades!"

Your words brought surprised looks upon Charlie, Angel, and Husk's faces.

Husk nearly dropped the glasses he was cleaning, "Uh.. Say what now?"

"Excuse me, but did you just say you found the love of your life... from when you were alive?? Who the hell-" Angel started to say before Alastor walked over put his hand on your shoulder,.

"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me." Husk interrupted Angel's sentence with the most deadpan yet exasperated voice he could muster.

"Wait... you mean... Freaky face has a fuckin' WIFE???" Angel yelled out in disbelief. "What the actual FUCK? I didn't think that guy was capable of love!"

"Ahem." Static noises became louder as Alastor glared in Angel's direction.

"Alright, alright, jesus, sorry! Husk, I need a drink."

"Already on it."

Meanwhile, Charlie just stood there as still as a statue from the shock. Until she suddenly started chuckling slowly, "Ah ha... hahaha... wait... really?" She brought her hands up to her mouth, trying to hide the huge grin that was slowly forming on her face.

You nodded, "Well, not quite wife haha... I was killed before he could propose..."

"Geeze, talk about grim.."

"Why, I do say that is quite enough from the peanut gallery!" Alastor piped up, menacingly twisting his head towards the bar where Angel and Husk were.

Charlie turned to Alastor, "How come you never mentioned you had someone special before?"

"Well my dear Charlie, I am a very private person, I do not often willingly divulge personal information about myself or my life back when I was alive."

"Oh." Charlie looked down at the ground dejectedly, thinking she was closer to Alastor than to be kept at such length still.

You patted Charlie's head, "Don't worry- I'll be happy to chat with you anytime! Though I don't know if you'll have fun hearing how I killed my husband- er- before Alastor. Maybe I'll have to settle for stories about my art career!" You chuckle smiling at her.

"Jesus, she IS crazy after all."

"Takes crazy to know crazy"

"Oh, shut up."

Charlie gasps, suddenly perking up, "Oh.. MY... GOSH!! Does this mean we get to host the very first wedding at our hotel??" She squeals and gives both you and Alastor the puppy-eye look.

You link your arm through Alastor's and look up at him with an inquisitive look.

"Ahaha! Why, if it is what my dear (y/n) desires, then that is what we shall do!"

You grin and bring your left hand up and hold it out to Charlie, "We already have the rings!"

Charlie blinks blankly and her mouth hangs open holding your hand to examine the ring on your hand. Vaggie leans over to look as well, "I honestly don't know I missed that..."

After staring at the ring for a while, Charlie smacks Vaggie's arm a bunch before squeezing her in a big embrace- the sounds of her squealing excitedly filled the room.

"WE HAVE A WEDDING TO PLAN!!!!!"

-> Part 14 - Final

Tag List:

@mysticwitchcraftco @lil-bexie @lonely-burger @cherry-cola-100 @angelxx7 @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @avitute @justhellacesome @mcrtrashfan @spookysisters @galaxywing-has-adhd @ggyalruu @trashbin-nie @fudosl @night-shadowblood-writes2 @memospacexx @yuraaahs @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @ghostdoodlen @moschinski @cannibalcoyote @missam @reader3 @yourworstgf @justaproudslytherpuff @milkspong3 @xdolls-crownx @1potato2rulethemall @1rxsemary1 @xxcrispxx @zardward @robin-the-enby @mylenapony11 @silvermoondarksky @bootylimpics @amarokofficial @euphoricaphrodite @blueyobsessedgirly @need-a-therapist @knifukiller @huayan @hwrimonsjer @no1sillybilly @kimmikreates @icarus-has-falllen @watchinthestarz @lady-lik3r @yunxi-11085 @luzzbuzz @tsukilover11 @plntmxrss @houmi @demoarah @papas-ghoulette @trashbin-nie @d-darlingyourbleeding @hallothankmas

[yoshimickster]

Fun times at the Hazbin Hotel!

Lucifer: UGH... I'm so hungover...HOW am I hungover?

Husk: I can field that one boss, yesterday I bet you that you couldn't make the best liquor in all of creation with your powers and...weeeeell...

Angel: Heeerrrreeeeey HUSK....YOU are PRETTY! LET'S GET MARRIED!

Husk: Everybody but you is still drunk.

Charlie: *On phone* WELL FUCK YOU MOM, I DON'T...care...*SOBBING"...

Vaggie: I'ma... I'ma STAB your bitch mom Charlie, it's HAPPENING!

Alastor:*Outside* And THAT...is my en-TIRE backstory lamppost! *HIC* YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND!

Nifty: I just CLEANED the en-TIRE neighborhood!

Husk: She's a drunk cleaner, it's a thing.

Lucifer: ... well how are YOU not drunk or hungover?

Husk: Honestly? I've had stronger.

Lucifer: Respect.

Angel: IT'LL BE A SPRING WEDDING!

Husk: Bitch we're all ready engaged , take a nap.

[strang3lov3]

Jet Stream

Joel has his fun with you after learning his shower head has a jet stream setting.

Part two of my miniseries for @noxturnalpascal Can be read as standalone but check out the first part Lather ! Thank you @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi for all their brainstorming on this fic!

tags-soft dom!joel, maybe not so soft dom! joel, overstimulation station, pet name (good girl, sweetheart, honey, darling) crying, fingering, multiple orgasms both clitoral and vaginal, smoochin’, praise, blowjobs, snuggles

notes- thank you for your patience with me! Hope you’re all having a lovely start to your February, please harass me and spank me to get part 3 and my Valentine’s Day one shot out by next week ❤️💖

Kindly edited by @papipascalispunk ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

Joel wakes up early, even on Saturdays. Taking advantage of the little pleasures in life, he watches squirrels and chipmunks run up and down the trees in his backyard, listening to the birds chirp while the sun rises. When the sun rises, he’ll take his morning shower and sigh in relaxation under the hot water. Let it wash over him for a little too long before he scrubs his body. 

But not this Saturday. Today, that steady pelting of water on his back and chest feels like a trickle compared to what it’s usually like. Joel’s been noticing this for a while, maybe you have too. He stands in the shower, annoyed at the glacial pace of the suds sliding off his body. After what feels like an eternity passes, he shuts off the water and examines the shower head closely. Yeah, that’ll do it, he thinks. Limescale. It’s built up around the shower head, into all the grooves. This commonly happens when hard water runs through a house. It’s an easy fix. 

Joel unscrews the shower head from its fixture then dries off. He goes downstairs and grabs a bucket and a jug of vinegar from his cleaning supply closet. He soaks the shower head in the vinegar-filled bucket for about an hour before taking the shower head out, using an old toothbrush to scrub the grooves and holes in the shower head. Joel hears a creak upstairs and quickens his scrubbing, he doesn’t need you coming downstairs and scolding him for over-exerting himself. Yeah, yeah – he should be asking you for your help and all that, but you’re too pretty for a chore like this, he thinks. Besides, his shoulder is getting better. Not quite as tender as it was a week ago. As Joel wraps up the finishing touches of cleaning the shower head, he notices some etched words that were previously covered by the limescale – Rain, Shower, Jet Stream.

Well, would ya look at that. A mischievous grin forms on Joel’s lips. His brain has been fucking addled thinking about you. You, and the way you came on your own fingers, whimpering his name. How after, you pushed your fingers past his lips, how sweet your arousal tasted on his tongue. How he’s been yearning to touch you, fuck you, but his stupid goddamn shoulder is still hurting. Hurting, but healing nonetheless. God, is he addled. But now, with this nifty little jet stream setting, he can have you melting in his hands in no time. It can do all the work for him, leaving his shoulder unharmed and without disruption to its healing process. He wonders, how many times will he make you come?

–

The day goes by as normal. It’s evening, Ellie’s not home. You’re on the couch with Joel after eating pasta for dinner. You’re knitting a blanket using mismatched yarn, just trying to find some use for the odds and ends. Joel’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch and bouncing his leg, twiddling his fingers. He looks bored, anxious. Seinfeld is on TV, Joel loves this show. He rented the series DVDs from the library in Jackson and claimed to have scratched them when they were past due. “Joel, quit,” you scold him. He’s bouncing the couch. 

“My bad,” Joel says. You can feel him staring at you. He’s touching his hair. You turn your face to look at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Joel wears an anticipatory look, but stays quiet. You turn your attention back to the TV and he’s now combing his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. “Hmmm…” he hums, “What’s a guy to do…”

You drop your knitting needles in your lap. “What, Joel?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he says. Joel kind of just gestures to his hair and shrugs, like you’re supposed to know what he’s asking for. You do, of course, but he can use his words. “Ahem,” Joel clears his throat, now twirling a finger around one of his curls cheekily, making a real big show out of it. He’s smiling now.  

“Do you need me to wash your hair again, Joel?”

“If you’d be so kind, darlin’,” he grins. 

You finish the row you’re currently knitting before wrapping up your work and putting it into a basket and under the end table next to the couch. After pausing the TV, you stand up and Joel outstretches his left hand to you, which you take in your own. He groans loudly as you pull him to his feet where he stands in front of you. There’s something about him today. When you washed his hair last week, he was bashful and awkward. Today, he’s confident with his sly grin, that teasing look in his eye like he’s working an angle. Maybe he’s just excited for another shower blow job, which you’ll happily provide again. You smile too, he’ll be 0 for 2. 

When you and Joel arrive at the bathroom, he locks the door just like last time. He’s unbuttoning his jeans, not bothering to hide the bulge in his boxers. You don’t bother with the formalities of your partnered shower as you and Joel undress yourselves. It’s unnecessary at this point, after the fortuitous, amatory events of your last one. Joel notices your smirk before he turns on the hot water. He can tell you think you’re gonna pull one over on him again. That’s fine, you can believe whatever you’d like.

Joel opens the shower curtain. “After you,” he purrs, offering his hand to you as you step into the tub. You stand underneath the stream of water, wetting your hair and letting the hot water warm your skin. It feels stronger today for some reason. “Pressure’s different,” you tell Joel. 

“Is it now?” Joel asks, feigning ignorance as he joins you in the tub, cock already half mast. You step closer to him, reaching for it, feeling him grow harder in your hand. Massaging his cock, tracing your fingertips around his thick head and along the veins of his shaft, you bite down on your smile. “Yeah, that’s nice, trouble,” he sighs in pleasure, “Aren’t you something?” 

“Feel good, Joel?” you murmur. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums, “Feels just wonderful, sweetheart. You’re too good t’me.” 

Shampoo and conditioner can wait. You take the time to massage his cock a while longer as you wrap your free hand around Joel’s neck, toying with the curls at the back of his head. They’re not quite wet yet as you’ve been hogging all the hot water, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you stroke his member as he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to kiss you softly. As you deepen the kiss, gently biting his plump bottom lip, Joel pulls away, removing your hand from his member.

“You done yet?” he asks you. 

You’re almost offended. Asshole. You were enjoying that kiss. “Not quite,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss him, touch him some more. 

Joel pulls away from you as he blocks your hand. He grips your wrist  and holds it behind your back as he spins you around, your back now facing him. “Well you’re gonna have to be,” he says. “The lady’s ’sposed to come first. That’s how we’re doing things from now on.”

“Yeah, right Joel. You can’t touch me, your shoulder is still fucked up.” you squirm away from him, but he keeps his hold on you. Gentle, firm. 

“Worry about yourself,” he warns in a tone much less teasing than before. He winces as he uses his bad arm to reach for the shower head, “Y’think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I…” you trail off as he hovers the shower head above your torso, peering over your shoulder as he watches the water fall down your curves. He hums softly as he focuses the stream over your breasts, feeling you begin to twitch as the water teases your nipples. 

“My shoulder is healing, actually. But yeah, it is still a little fucked up,” Joel continues, “Don’t need to touch ya anyhow.”

Ohh, you’re getting it now. Joel thinks he cracked the code. “I appreciate the thought, Joel,” you chuckle. “But if you’re planning on using the shower head to make me come, just go ahead and put it back where it belongs. I’ve tried that already.”

“Figures,” he teases. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“What’s that, Joel?”

“Water pressure on this thing sucked lately, so I was cleanin’ this thing out this morning,” he begins. He keeps your arm behind your back as he sits both you and himself down on the shower bench, keeping your back pressed firmly against his torso. “Does this hurt?” he whispers before continuing. You shake your head no. “Good,” Joel says. “Anyway, wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a jet stream setting on this thing.” Joel nudges a foot between your legs and taps you. “Open ‘em. You stay like this for me.”

He’s speaking with such authority, such a commanding tone. You’re almost nervous. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice last week just how severely you pissed him off with the way you touched yourself in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you further taunted him when you pushed your fingers past his lips, dangling the premise of tasting your sweet cunt over his head. You should have known he’d retaliate.

“Was not a fan of how you got yourself off without me, pretty rudely, might I add. Told you I wanted to help, you fuckin’ deviant.”

Yup, you’re correct. He’s still fucking pissed. He did a good job keeping a lid on it until now. “Joel,” you breathe. 

“So yes, you’re right. I can’t touch ya yet,” he continues in a low voice, “S’why we’re gonna see what this does to ya, sweetheart.”

Joel keeps the shower head on the rain setting for this part. With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee and has you set your foot on the bench where you and Joel sit. This way, you’re nice and open for him to do as he pleases. He brings the shower head lower, hovering it over your torso, down your tummy, then your pussy. It’s a nice sensation, warm and gentle. When you lean your head back on his shoulder and sigh softly, he ups the ante. Momentarily, he futzes with the showerhead and switches it to the jet stream setting before bringing it back to your center. He starts the stream at your inner thighs first, working his way inward until the stream is massaging your lips, first one side and then the other. Slowly, he twists his wrist, getting your pussy used to the new sensation. He can’t see much from this angle, can’t feel anything either. He’s waiting for you to jolt and moan to know when he’s struck gold. “Shhh…” Joel quiets you when you do just that. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine, hm?”

Fuck, it’s intense. It’s very intense, almost too much. “Joel, fuck,” you cry. You should not have fucked with him. 

“Just relax,” he instructs, “You’ll get used to it.” But you’re not getting used to it, not even close. It’s a powerful, nearly electric sort of feeling that takes you wholly as you jerk and stutter in his hold. “Mm-mm, you stay here. Quit your squirmin’.”

“S’too much Joel,” you whine. 

“S’kinda the point,” he mumbles, “But you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Jus’ let it happen.”

Joel rotates his wrist, directing the stream of water in tight, steady circles on your clit. The striking, uncomfortable and intense feeling is beginning to dissipate as your pleasure begins to build. Joel’s hot breath is on your neck, his torso rising and falling steadily. You can feel his warm, stiff package pressing against your lower back. “Joel, it feels so good,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he replies.  The movement of Joel’s wrists never falters, though he knows it’ll be sore in the morning. You move your hips in tune with his movement, eyes squeezed shut and moaning quietly, your open mouth pressed against his neck. He wonders if maybe you haven’t quite realized the circumstance you’re in, what he plans to do to you. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wearing a smug grin.

Joel lets go of his hold on your leg to touch your breasts with his free hand, kneading your flesh. When he teases your nipples, the sensation of it all is heightened. Within moments, you’ve reached your peak. It’s intense and the feeling lasts long as Joel, with the help of the shower head, helps you ride out your high. Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath as he points the shower head at the floor, letting you relax against him. After a minute passes, you try to lean forward to get up, but Joel stops you by wrapping his strong arm around your torso and keeping you pressed tightly against him. “Ohh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not done yet,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, your temple. 

“I know, but it’s your turn.”

“Oh, not quite. We’re way past turns and bein’ square and even and all that,” he says. “Yeah, that went out the door with that little stunt you pulled on me last week. So let me spell it out for you, darlin’, I am not finished with you.”

“Joel, what are you–” Joel cuts you off by bringing the shower head back to your pussy. Reaching out for something, anything, your hand finds purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as you tug gently. “Joel, fuck,” you pant. 

“Not goin’ easy on ya,” he warns. “S’that alright?” Your heart swells. Always the gentleman, Joel is. You nod against his cheek. “Then you stay just like this for me,” he instructs, whispering quietly against the shell of your ear, “Just like this. That’s all ya gotta do, s’real easy.” He tells you this like he’s giving you a choice, but subtly, he places his hand his back on your knee, keeping your cunt exposed to him for his use. Then Joel, realizing he has a better idea, gently pushes your leg off the bench. Potentially against his better judgment, he takes your own free hand and places it on your knee. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, trusting you with this privilege perhaps too early in tonight’s endeavor. But he knows you, you’ve always been all bark and no bite – he’s not worried about you. Not a bit. 

“I’ll be good, Joel,” you whimper, eager to make this easier on yourself. You’ve never felt a sensation this intense before, and you know to tread carefully with Joel. Especially given what led you to this mess you’re in with him. 

Joel smirks, he’s right as always. Already you’re so docile, so well-behaved, so pliant. 

He finds your clit with the fingers of his left hand to help him with the shower head in his right hand. After finding that sweet little bundle of nerves with the jet stream, Joel traces along your lips momentarily before pushing a finger inside your warm, wet pussy. “Joel, oh my god,” your right hand leaves its place in his hair and you reach for his bicep instead, not exactly sure what your goal is here. You just need Joel’s comfort, to touch him, feel him, hold onto him for dear life as he delivers you deep and powerful pleasure just moments previously unknown to you. 

“I know sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it, huh?” he taunts, pushing in another finger. He curls them slowly, savoring the feeling of your wet heat pulsing around his knuckles. “Y’look very beautiful like this, ya know.” Joel quickens the pace of his fingers. You moan as you beg him for mercy of some sort as he fucks you on his fingers, while torturing your poor, overworked clit with that shower head. It’s sensual, satisfying, and nearly painful all at once. “Doin’ so good. I know you’ve got another one in ya.”

“I don’t know, Joel, I’m– I’m–”

“Take it easy. Focus right here,” he says, curling his fingers faster now. You’re a mess of panting and whimpering as Joel works his magic, stroking that sweet spot inside of you he made short work of finding. You’re soaking his fingers with your arousal as he touches you, a second orgasm washing over you quickly.

You’re panting, heart pounding as you try to come down from your high. “Please,” you breathe heavily, “Please Joel, I– oh–”

“Not quite sure what all that beggin’s for, sweetheart. Told ya what you were in for tonight,” Joel whispers in a honeyed voice. “You got one more, though.”

No way. It’s not possible. This is too much, you’re certain you’ll be satisfied for an eternity after this. “Joel, I don’t think I can,” you cry, hot and salty tears of overstimulation rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t–”

Joel interrupts you. “Yes, you can,” he says. Joel pulls his fingers and the shower head away from your pussy, giving you another moment to breathe. You’re still breathing heavily, shaking and trembling slightly. Poor thing, not used to all of this. It’s a lot on you and Joel knows this. “I’m right here, I got you,” he coos. He adjusts the way he’s holding you for a moment to look at your face, wipe away your tears. His brow furrows as he searches your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your jaw. “Breathe, baby. S’okay. Ain’t gonna break.” 

You nod, stutter out some incoherent response. Joel’s eyes are warm and soft as he calms you, kissing your lips and your nose. 

“What do you think?” he asks, “Reckon you got another one in ya. Just one more, hmm?”

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile. “Okay.” 

“Attagirl,” Joel praises. He brings the showerhead back to the space between your thighs but you catch his wrist, pulling it away from your body before he has the chance to use it on you again. 

“Want your fingers,” you request in a soft voice. “Can you just use your fingers on me?”

Joel nods. “We can try it,” he offers. “Was startin’ to get cold anyway. Why don’t you switch it back to the regular setting and put it back where it belongs?”

You nod and follow suit, playing with the settings before settling on the regular shower feature. You stand up to put the shower head back, letting the water wash over both you and Joel. On your way back to sit with him he holds your hips, steadying your shaky legs. You sit back between his legs, spreading your own. You gasp softly when Joel cautiously brings his right hand to your pussy, starting out with slow, careful circles on your clit. He groans in pain and shakes his head. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he answers. “Why don’t you help me out, hm? Use your own hand? Kind of your specialty, ain’t it?” Joel reaches for your hand and then stops suddenly. “Or,” he says, “What if we try something new?”

Oh, man. You’ve experienced a lot of firsts tonight, you’re not sure you can handle another. 

“That poor clit of yours is all worn out huh?” Joel asks. “C’mere. Turn around and face me,” Joel helps you up and then has you straddle his lap, his rock hard cock is between your bodies, the tip all blushed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doin’ things with my left hand.”

You’re quick to retort. “Except for getting yourself off,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Rub it in,” he replies. He snakes his left hand back between your bodies, his middle two fingers pushing inside you. “Was thinkin’ could see how it works out. How’s this feel?” Joel curls his fingers inside of you in a repetitive come hither movement, stroking your g-spot.

“Good,” you tell him. It does feel good, if not a little unfamiliar. 

“Just focus on my fingers,” he instructs. As Joel works his fingers inside of you, you rest your forehead on his own. Breathing steadily, focusing on the feeling it stirs inside of you. It’s a new, different sort of pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises in whispers, “So good for me. You’re almost there.”

You begin to rock your hips into his hand, ignoring the way the hard material of the bench feels on your knees. Your clit is still untouched yet, here you are, that familiar feeling beginning to bloom in your tummy. Nothing’s ever made you feel the way you do right now, here in Joel’s arms. You’re liquid in his hands as your last orgasm begins to build, It’s deeper inside you, a slower build to ecstasy as Joel fucks you on his fingers.Your climax washes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your through your body. “Oh my god, Joel,” You come with gasping breaths and moans for the last time, your fluttering walls choking Joel’s fingers and your arousal pooling in his hand. 

Joel holds you tightly in his arms as you come down from your high for the last time tonight. You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you feel ready, you lift yourself up on your knees and reach for Joel’s cock, guiding him to your entrance. 

“Woah, woah–” Joel stops you. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” you try. “Just let me–fuck. I need you, need to fuck you.”

“After all that? You still want more?”

“Wanna take care of you,” you plead. You want him so bad, need to feel him, need to be closer to him, you need to watch his face. 

Joel smiles sadly as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t give that to ya,” he strokes your cheek, continuing, “God knows I wanna feel you too, sweetheart. We can’t get ahead of ourselves with my damn shoulder and all that. Just give me a few more days, hon.”

You nod in agreement. He’s right, unfortunately. 

“And then I’m all yours,” Joel reaches for your ass and lifts you up, then sits you back down on the bench after he stands up. He stands in front of you, holding his heavy cock between his thumb and first two fingers, bouncing it slightly. “Stay right there,” he says. “You just sit all pretty-like for me, just like ya always do.” 

Joel reaches for the back of your head and guides you to be closer to him, parting your lips with the tip of his cock. He tastes salty, heady and masculine. You cup his balls and squeeze gently, playing with them for a moment before gripping the base of his dick. Joel pushes into your mouth slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip and his shaft, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks. You love the way he tastes, how he feels, how he jerks his hips slightly when you trail your tongue along an extra sensitive spot of his member. 

“So good,” he praises, “Always so good.” 

Joel maintains eye contact with you as he draws in and out of your mouth, watching you with warm, adoring expression. He loves your eyes, how you watch him as he fucks your mouth. 

Moments go by and Joel’s squeezing his eyes shut, his movements starting to become frenzied. “M’close, hon,” he warns. You reach for his hand with your own and squeeze it a couple of times as if to tell him it’s okay, that he can let go. Joel does just that. He comes with a deep groan, his soft tummy and his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, loudly through his nose. His thick, heavy cock twitches in your mouth as ribbon after ribbon of his hot spend coats your tongue and your throat, which you swallow with pleasure. Joel lets out a strangled sort of noise when you begin to pull your mouth off of him, but first licking his head a couple of times. “Too much, too much,” he warns urgently. Interesting. He can dish it but he can’t take it. But you keep your thoughts about Joel’s overstimulation threshold to yourself. “M’not done with you sweetheart, I promise,” Joel says as he comes down from his high, his breathing now beginning to steady. “Few more days and you’re in trouble.”

Your insides flutter at the prospect, what a welcome threat. You smile as Joel takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, shuts off the shower and reaches for your towel. He helps you to dry off, then dries his own self off before helping you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he takes you to his bedroom and lifts up the covers. You get underneath and Joel tucks you in, walks around to his own side of the bed and joins you. Knowing what you need after all of this, he doesn’t bother asking before pulling you into his side, kissing your cheek and the top of your head. Holding you close and telling you what a good job you did. Making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, water, a snack. Whatever. “No,” you tell him before closing your eyes. 

Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, Joel whispers in your ear, “Hon.” 

“What, Joel?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. 

“We forgot to wash my hair.”

[princessfroslass]

The way I am obssesed with Angel's relationship with the girls- and no, I don't mean it on a token gay guy on the gals group™ but rather how he seems to have this- older brother ish sense to him when he is with them.

He is the one that mocks Vaggie even on her lowest point but he was also the one to rush to her side when Charlie and Alastor left- no to mention he was the one leading the other guys to prepare the hotel later on.

He is the one the keep Nifty safe- even though he is extremely weirded out by her antics, and even didn't react with aggression when she was a bout to stab him (that shit wouldn't had flied with any character I tell you lmao) also LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE-

He is the one that protected Charlie from HIS abuser, shielding him from his world from day one- and overall just making sure she stayed safe, and away from Val.

And then there is Cherrie- his ride or die he trusts above anyone else. She is the one he rants to about his horrible day at the studio (which is bad enough to make her RUN to the Hotel after 5 months btw, so who knows what the hell was on those textes) tho I am inclined she is the older sibling at the relationship. I dunno she just has that vibe. She protects him alot more than he does her (that is not to say he doesn't protect her- he literally pushed her away from Pen's invention at the Pilot) and I like that, is a little change or dynamic with his other relationships.

I normally don't like to call a platonic relationship "sibling coded" unless is VERY explicitly implied that is the case, but honestly- with Angel I am willing to do an exception, because of this:

Is not far fetched to think Angel might had projected Molly onto his female friends- SPECIALLY Charlie, who was often draw with her on older sketches. Their dad was abusive, their relationship with their brother non-existent (this actually intrigues me alot because I can see Niss having beef with Angel but the fuck did Molly do?) and the mom isn't mentioned yet, so I am willing to think all they had was each other- flash forward to now, with Angel separated from his beloved sister, trapped onto an soul contract with his abusive ex, and meeting a bunch of girls that had reediming qualities- my guy had issues ok let him be.

[dobbysnotsureaboutthis]

Alastor x Reader - A very long mating season (doctor's appointment gone wrong)

Masterlist

Link to pt.2

WC: 9,698

Description:

Alastor’s been acting weird for a while now, and Angel Dust calls in a friend of his, you - the only doctor in the whole pride ring - to have you take a look at him. Despite Alastor’s insistence that it’s only a bad headache, you swear on your doctor’s oath that something more is going on… (fem reader)

Warnings:

SEX, NOT scientifically accurate, me NOT a doctor, reader and Alastor boing their groins a few times so yk do what you will with that info, rut, heat, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, blood (not that much), porn with plot, not edited

“Say, what do ya think is goin’ on with Smiles these days?” Angel Dust reclines his elbows on Husk’s bar, sipping at his drink while waiting for Charlie’s response.

“Alastor? Oh no, do you think something’s wrong with him?”

Angel tries not to roll his eyes at the princess. The poor girl, going around managing hell with a heart of gold and… seemingly zero observation skills. “Yeah Alastor! He’s been acting all weird lately. Hidin’ away at his radio tower most of the day, in his room when he’s here, never comin’ down anymore to make breakfast, not responding to my pranks! Ugh, I’ve been bored as fuck here without his crazy reactions.” 

Husk chuckles at that, pausing his cleaning. “Are you sure you miss that last part? I remember a certain someone almost getting killed several times over a joke.” 

Angel groans at the smug grin of his companion. If the damned cat wasn’t so cute he definitely wouldn’t let him get away with all his complacent remarks. 

Nifty darts out from under the bar, joining in on their discussion. Nobody bats an eye, as they were all used to the little demonness’s mannerisms by now. “Ooooh is this about Alastor? I saw him walking around and pulling at his own head earlier. He looked like he was in pain!” She giggles impishly. “Wonder what that’s all about!”

Charlie looked close to tears in worry, and without Vaggie around to help, Angel sighs, awkwardly trying to solve the tension he brought up. “Hey don’t worry ‘bout it, if you’re all noticing and it’s not just me, I know a doctor we can call up.” 

“There are doctors in hell?”

Angel snorts. “Fuck, even the princess of hell herself doesn’t know it! Yea there are doctors, or at least there’s one doctor I know of for sure. I guess most of the caretakers on earth ended up in heaven.” He twiddles with the soft tufts of milky fur on his chest. “She used to patch me up after… ya know, my work with Val and all. Not sure if she’s got experience with patients like him, but I could call her up and give it a shot.” Charlie darts into a standing position, squeezing Angel in a tight hug. He pats her shoulder hesitantly, still not used to how loving the princess was. “Yes! That’s just it Angel.” Then her sparkly eyes widened even more, sparkling brightly at a vision only she could see. “Oh Angel! Helping a friend out of the kindness in your heart! You’re already getting so close to redemption, I can feel it!” She pulls away just as quickly as she leaned in, shooting two thumbs up in his direction. “I’m counting on you for this one!”

“Yea, yea.”

Angel fumbles with the smooth buttons on his phone screen, finding her number in recents - he’d just called her a few days ago when Val worked him for 2 days straight, filling his body with his sick drugs and leaving him untreated, lying cold on the studio floor. 

“Hey toots? Yea, this is Angel calling.” 

There’s unintelligible mumbling. 

“No, it’s not for me. It’s for a… friend.”

_____________________________________________________________

You’re in your office wiping down the scarce collection of medical equipment you’ve garnered in hell. Hell’s sky casts a pomegranate glow on your figure, inflecting off the pleats in your skirt and button-up shirt. You had forgone a traditional white coat, as there was no such clothing around here. 

When you first landed in hell, you quickly realized that the social hierarchy similarly mirrored that of earths. There were the wealthy and powerful sins, celebrities - flashy, big overlords - and finally, the common people, average sinners. 

In the beginning, your optimism led you to think you could maybe become someone important. Why not try? You had an eternity in hell after all. Yet it didn’t take you long to realize that you didn’t have what it takes to be known. You weren’t a serial killer or a twisted psychopath in life. You didn’t have it in you to climb the social ladder like a cold-hearted politician.

You were a good-natured doctor who saved lives, who thrived on knowing you were the reason your patients could live comfortably. Your only flaw? You could say that curiosity was what killed the cat, or in this case, deer. You giggled, playing with the little bush of a tail you had. It was what guided you to persist through the long years of medical school despite the imposing student debts, unsympathetic parents and all. It was also what drove you to murder. 

One, just one time.

You remember the day with crystal clarity. Your boyfriend, who had tied you up and bound you to his car, which he steered off the edge of a cliff. The hot slickness of crimson liquid coating his hairline where the windshield smashed him, the horrified pried open state of his jaw, his eyes wide and searching for nothing in particular as they stung with the salt of his blood. 

The fall had miraculously loosened your ropes enough for you to wiggle out of them, hauling your scraped wrists out of the scratchy material. He begged you to help. He, who had betrayed you and planned to smuggle you away from the life you built for yourself. There was still time to call the police. His heart was beating steady and strong. You thought his body would be of better use to your research than alive.

Someone who dedicated their whole soul to saving lives, ended up in hell for taking one.

But that cruelty was a one time occurrence, and you still opted to play the good doctor in hell. You snort at the irony as you wipe down the stethoscope in your hand, then promptly set it down on the counter as your phone interrupts your reminiscent thoughts with a sudden ring. 

“Hello?”

Ah, it was Angel, a regular patient. You were fond of the spider demon. He’s saying something about a friend needing help. “Of course, could you get your friend on the phone so that I can schedule an appointment?”

Nervous laughter rings on the other side of the conversation. “Uh, here’s the thing. He doesn’t know that I’m makin’ this appointment.” 

“Oh?” Now you’re surprised.

“Listen this is gonna be a lot to ask for, and I already ask for too much outta you-.”

“Angel, you could never ask too much from me.”

You hear a shaky sigh. Then a pause. “A-Alright then, would it be ok if ya come over to the hotel and check him out there? He’s in some weird sorta pain, but he’s not the type to tell us.”

“Sure, I don’t see why not. When should I come over?” “It’s not emergent, as this has been goin’ on for a while and he’s still up and movin.’ How ‘bout tomorrow mornin’ 8:00 am? It’s gettin’ late and I’ve seen him like once today. I’m thinkin’ we should have the best luck tryna catch him after breakfast, when Charlie has him do a few tasks around the hotel.”

“Sounds good to me. Could I get a patient name?”

“Yea, Alastor.”

“Alriiiight.” You stretch out the word as you quickly jot down his name and time of the appointment. “And demon type?”

Angel snorts as though it was a funny question. You smile from the contagious sound of his entertainment, despite having no idea what was so hilarious. “...Demon type?”

“Sorry toots, I wasn’t laughin’ at ya. He’s a deer.”

“Oooh, a deer demon? Like me…” You jot that down too. “Take care, Angel. Let me know if you want me to give that ugly moth a sedative overdose!” 

Angel laughs, and you end the call on a gleeful note despite knowing that neither of you could really do anything to the overlords. Or… perhaps you could, perhaps they were made of the same perishable flesh as any other, perhaps you were letting their status outshine their mortality. Though that’s a thought for another time.

You perch yourself on top of your working chair, clicking through your VoxTek computer to file the appointment in your weekly schedule. 

Alastor. The syllables taste rich and familiar on your tongue. You swear that you’ve heard it somewhere before.

_____________________________________________________________

Alastor as in the radio demon Alastor? 

It took you a second to recognize him, as you’ve only seen him a handful of times, but once you do, you’re suddenly not so confident about today’s appointment. 

It takes everything in your power to sculpt your expression into a neutral one. You scan your eyes over your surroundings. Darkened green walls encapsulated a small bar that looked reminiscent of a casino slot machine. Angel Dust, your spider friend, and a sour-faced gray cat demon sat chatting at the bar, nervously glancing between one another and the tall man in red. Then there was the princess of hell, Charlie, and a white haired vertically challenged woman crowding the deer demon, waving their hands exaggeratedly as though they were trying to prove a point to him. 

Their heads swing in almost unison at your arrival, and you instantly realize that they must’ve been distracting him from your arrival. Right. He didn’t even know you were coming. You swallow your nerves and make your way to the bar, skin sizzling with the phantom touch of his crimson eyes on your figure. His twisted sharp grin blurred through your peripheral vision as you focused on maintaining eye contact. 

“Hey, I’m a doctor, and I’m here to-.”

“Eek! You’re here!” Before you could even offer your hand for a shake, Charlie all but sprints at you, interrupting you with a tight hug. You blink away the strands of her hair that caught in your eyes from the swirl of the motion. 

“Hello, Princess Charlie.” You wave politely. This was your first time meeting any sort of royalty in hell, although she wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the strawberry-haired demon situated behind her.

“I’m so so excited to have you here and oh! Are you by chance interested in joining our hotel? My hope is for sinners to be redeemed-.”

“Charlie.” The short white-haired girl lays her hand on Charlie’s arm. “Let’s not forget what she’s here to do, babe.” She must be her girlfriend.

White-hair shortie directs her attention to you. “Vaggie, nice to meet you.” She keeps her introduction short and sweet, gently pushing at Charlie once again, reminding her to inform you of the situation.

“Right, right. So, you’re here, the best and only doctor in the entire pride ring to help our friend who’s been struggling a bit.” You keep a cordial smile plastered on your cheeks as she talks. In the back of the room, you see Angel now working at distracting Alastor from leaving. Impatience begins to tug at your heartstrings, pleading the princess to keep it short. You didn’t want to fail so soon.  “...And we’re just really worried! He’s been having pains apparently, in his head. Headaches.”

You turn to look at said demon, who was still sitting atop the same bar stool, perched so stiffly that you could feel the secondhand pain of his muscles that must be aching. There’s a slight swishing of his tail, and he clutches what appeared to be his radio stick tightly with one clawed hand. Was he nervous? Your eyes sweep over the sweat beading under swept bangs, and the clenching of his teeth. Ah. It must be his “condition.” 

“Alright, Princess. I can tell you all really care for your friend. Just leave the rest to me.” You squeeze her shoulder warmly, guessing that she must be fond of physical affection. She grins delightedly at you.

“Great! This is so so so good. Thank the devil! I’ll leave you to that then! Best of luck! Not that you’ll need it or anything.” You keep waving at the princess until she disappears beyond the door, watching as she spun around several times to match your waves. 

You were equal parts burning with the need to get things started, and dreadful of approaching the menacing demon, who had resigned his attempts of fleeing. You walk carefully, tiptoeing as though you were advancing toward a frightened animal. Angel Dust - and the grumpy cat - look at one another, and finally dash away, after making what you assumed to be some sort of excuse to Alastor. 

He doesn’t look at you at all, instead choosing to stare straight ahead with that abnormally wide strained smile of his - if not for the slight twitching of his ears, you would think he’s not even aware of your presence. 

You clear your throat nervously, flexing your forearm to prevent it from trembling before holding it out for a handshake. If the rumors were correct, and you had no doubt they were, you certainly didn’t want to lose the radio demon’s respect; especially not in the first meeting. 

“Hello, you’re Alastor, the radio demon aren’t you? I-It’s nice to finally meet you!” Well, you were never that good at first impressions anyway.

For a moment you think you hear him sigh, a static-filled gravely sound. Nearly imperceptible. Then he’s turning to you, reluctantly reaching his hand to yours at a snail-like pace. You try not to feel too rejected. Or feel too mocked by the seemingly ever-present grin on his face, and the clear scrutiny in his eyes. 

“Likewise, my dear. It’s always a pleasant surprise to meet another deer demon in hell, given their supposed rarity. ”

You had an impression this was far from pleasant for him. Maybe he doesn’t want competition? You snort, brushing that thought away. As though a low-level sinner like you could be a threat. “Ah, right.” You playfully flick the fur of an ear, trying to lower the tension. His darkened eyes follow the motion of your hand. “I barely remember that I am a deer demon sometimes! Everything is the same as when I was human, except for the addition of some ears and a tail.”

His grin turns sharper, with the cutting flavor of something uncomfortable. “I assure you dear, you are very much not human. I can tell.” 

“...Right.” You close your eyes briefly, willing yourself into a more business mindset so as to ignore how awkward the whole situation felt. “So, could I get a description of your symptoms? I know Charlie told me, but I want to hear it straight from the source.”

You smile encouragingly at him, as you often did with difficult patients while alive. And you had a feeling Alastor was every bit of that - a difficult patient.

He straightens up, losing the slight hint of ease he’d started to gain. “Well, it is like I said. I seem to be experiencing pains in my… head.” He winces a little - likely due to said head pains, you note.

“And how long have you been experiencing these pains?” You lean against the edge of the stool next to him, not quite sitting on it but not standing either. 

Your ears twitch at the subtle creak in his stool. He’s shifting around again. “...Around three months.”

Your eyes widen, pushing yourself off the stool. “Three months! Why didn’t you say anything…?” You quickly shut yourself up before you could cross any boundaries, silently scolding yourself for the overt reaction.

“The pain wasn’t that bad.”

He’s lying. You narrow your eyes to warn him, you can tell.

He tries again. “...I assumed the pain would go away on its own.” 

“And not get worse?” 

He gives an affirmative nod. You ask him several questions after that, trying to get a quick history of his health complications during his time in hell. With each question he answers, you find yourself only getting farther from any sort of possible conclusion. 

As soon as you started working as a solo doctor in hell, you learned really quickly that demons rarely suffered from the same ailments as people did above on earth, and if they did their symptoms were different. Your mind rushes through illnesses other demons had visited you for - a snake demon who couldn’t get his skin to shed properly, a cyclops demon who grew an extra eye that blocked the vision of her original eye, a volcanic demon whose lava had leaked to his internal organs and started burning him from the inside…

What about deer demons? Little was known about them, to the point where you were even unsure of your own biology.

You bring a finger to your lips, chewing on your nail while thinking of your next steps. The curiosity within you begged to think of a conclusion, or even just a premise. Nothing. You finally pull your finger away from your lips, remembering where you are. Right. There’s no need to overthink things. You haven’t even done a physical examination yet. Speaking of which…

You gesture for him to stand up, regretting the motion immediately as his gaze turns displeased; likely at your attempt to order him. “Alastor, would you lead the way to a more private space?” His ears straightened, and he looked at you defensively. Why did your words never come out right? You blush and wave your hands back and forth in denial. “N-no, not - I meant for your physical examination.” 

Thankfully, he ignores your blunder. Nothing about his steady grin and lidded scarlet eyes revealed what he thought. “Right this way then.” 

You timidly follow after him.

Have you gotten so rusty during your time in hell that you couldn’t even talk to a patient without turning into a blubbering mess? You’ve only been here for a decade… or two… three decades. In that time, you’ve met with all sorts of patients, from lowly sinners to more powerful overlords. He’s tall, you observe. Very tall - almost 7 feet? Over? It shouldn’t intimidate you, he was far from the tallest demon you’ve encountered. 

But they didn’t tower over you. They didn’t have his same opposing presence, which unfairly dominated the entire room with its sheer power, and they certainly didn’t have… they didn’t have his… 

…scent.

Your knees go soft at the same moment he comes to a sudden halt, causing you to bump your body into his. Your forehead bumps into the hard bone of his scapula, startled hands reaching out to steady yourself by gripping onto his suit. He twists his head acutely to look at you, and you flinch, preparing yourself for his notorious anger, but you are only met with discomfort in his eyes. You hurriedly distance yourself from the demon. 

His jaw clenches and unclenches, and he’s looking at you as though he’s holding back from killing you right then and there. A strange, almost pleasant shiver runs through your body. You blink. What a strange response to potential danger.

Before you had time to apologize - for what, you don’t know you just feel like you’ve wronged him somehow - he masks his irritation with the same cheeriness in his smile. “And we’re here! Will my bedroom be a good enough space for your physical examination, dear?”

You swallow back the ever-growing weird feeling inside you. “Yeah, of course.” 

He hums an old-fashioned tune as he walks into his room, sharp clacks of his shoes dulling down on the red carpet that covered his bedroom floor. Your curious eyes catch two red armchairs, several deer skulls hanging ominously on the walls, a large maroon bed that was so neatly made it looked to be a mere display, and the soft glow of a swamp surrounded by forest trees in the distance. 

You unpack the equipment you carried with you - stethoscope, thermometer, gloves, examination light, cotton balls. You left your less earthly conventional items back in your office, as you had absolutely no idea whether they would be of use. Each new patient meant you had to study and adapt to their unique anatomical features and curses, on top of your prior anatomical knowledge. 

Alastor stays silent the entire time you rummage through your materials, except for the occasional thump of his tail on the bed sheets and the consistent hum of jazz and radio static, which was periodically interrupted by sharp pops. You smile internally at the flattening of his ears; he must be really annoyed by that hyperactive tail of his huh? Personally, you were quite fond of your own. But you could see why a man like Alastor would be bothered by this. 

You pull on your gloves, starting to settle into a comfortable pace. All is going well, you reassure yourself. All except for the weird musky smell from him that kept tugging unexpectedly at your insides. Better not breathe all that in. He could be contagious.

You pull out a thermometer. “Alright, I’m going to take your temperature ok…?"

He simply nods. So quiet today, especially for a man who never seemed to shut up on his infamous radio broadcast. 

Just when you think he couldn’t get any rigid, you see him stop dead at your hand cupping his chin. “Open your mouth for me…” His claws tear into the bed sheets beneath, and you pat his shoulder, trying to get him to relax. His tail furiously thumps against the sheets. Oh. He doesn’t want you to touch him. 

You remove your hand from his chin and manage to take his temperature, dipping the oral thermometer beneath his tongue. You could practically feel the heat emanating off his skin onto your hand. It would be surprising if he didn’t have a fever. “Since demons all have varying levels of body heat, I can only measure fevers by comparing them to your baseline temperature. I’d say you definitely have one based on your appearance alone…” You pull out your notepad. “...But I still need to record the results for future reference.” 

You might as well be talking to yourself. You didn’t mind it though, given that you were trying to ignore his overbearing presence. “Now, I’m going to examine your eyes and ears.” You take out your light and gently gesture for him to look upward. At least he was complying now. Eyes seem normal, just as evil and red as a demon’s eyes should be. You move to his ears, which you didn’t even dare to touch based on the sudden cautioning glare he was shooting at you. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch anything.” You smile non threateningly before shining the light at his ears, humming as you peeped inside. They quiver, the fur slightly brushing against the head of your examination light. 

“Hmm, nothing there either…” You rummage through your bag, pulling out your stethoscope. He narrows his already lidded eyes in distaste. “I’m going to have to make some contact with it… but I’ll be fast I promise. Just tell me if you want me to pull away.”

He grits his smiling teeth, finally speaking up for the first time during the whole appointment. “You will not be coming near me with that… thing.” You’re taken aback as he suddenly stands up, brushing off his coat. A single droplet of sweat runs down his clenched jawline. “I did not require such a ridiculous examination in the first place.” He’s trying desperately to keep up his usual buoyant facade. But his frustration, at something, kept breaking through the surface. “I’ll be perfectly swell in due time! Tell the princess that these pains are nothing and it will resolve itself.” 

You panic, reaching out to grasp at his lapels before you could even think about it. You’ve never had a patient leave untreated. “Wait! Alastor, I can’t just let you go like that. As a doctor, at least let me try to help!” The second you make contact with him, you watch in horror as his face twists into something truly terrifying. Crack! There’s a breaking sound, then his form twists, joints lengthening asymmetrically with frightening speed until he dwarfed you by at least an additional 3 feet. He leans down to stare you in the eye. You’re unable to look away from the morbidly glitching radio dials. “You can’t help me. Nothing you do will ever be of use to my situation. It would help me more, in fact, if you left this very instant.”

…What did he say? 

Nothing you do will ever be of use to my situation.

Nothing you do will ever be good enough.

Just like they told you when you started medical school all those decades ago. 

You don’t even notice that you’re crying until you’ve been standing there wordless for so long that his demonic form has slowly, inch by inch shrunken to his original self. You don’t even notice that your vision is blurry. All you felt was defeat. Humiliation, rather. Who were you to think that you could help an overlord in any way? You weren’t even qualified to be a doctor down here in hell. No one is. You just thought you’d try. That’s all.

The ball at the pit of your throat tightens until you can barely breathe from concentrating on stopping the traitorous tears salting your cheeks. Distantly, through the muffled ringing in your ears and erratic static engulfing the room, you hear a low exhale. 

Could you get any more pathetic? You hold your breath when you feel a single clawed finger wiping at the stabbing fluids running down your face, each one hot and heavy with shame. You blink to clear your teary vision, and you see him looking down on you with an unreadable expression.

Apologetic? No, why would a man like him say sorry? Besides, he had nothing to be sorry for. He was correct in his reaction, you really couldn’t do anything to help. You just had to go and cry about it afterwards. Fuck. You sniffle pathetically, 

He speaks softly, the dense static lessening in volume. “There’s no need to shed tears over something that is not your fault.”

It doesn’t help. You didn’t cry often, but once the tears started it was difficult to stop. He lets his hand drop to his side and moves back to his previous position on the edge of his bed. 

“This isn’t something you can help me with, my dear. It’s an unpleasant condition I’ve had to suffer every year since I landed in hell, and nothing but waiting it out would help. This year just happens to be… more difficult than the others.” 

“Y-You’ve… had to go through this every year?” You picture the pain he must go through, and the empathy within you instantly felt for his hardships. What type of horrible things did he do on earth to deserve this? You snort with your trembling voice at your ridiculous question. You’re in hell, dumbass. What do you think?

“Every year.”

“Well, m-maybe I can help and we just don’t know it yet. Let me try, at least?” Hope dares to grace your mind, and the tears, although still running down your face, slow to a trickle.

He hesitates. He’s going to say no, isn’t he? That’s alright, you’ll do everything in your power to research deer demon biology on your own time. “You may try.” 

You blink in surprise, and your lips slowly twitch upward into a forming smile, despite the liquid sorrow still lining your eyes. In contrast to his uneasy expression, his tail thumps lightly at your grin. You find it… cute how closely the movements of his tail matched his feelings.

You pull out your stethoscope once again, attaching the tips of the headset to your ears. You glance at him for permission one more time, and he tilts his head with a disconcertingly wide grin as though to feign nonchalance. His flattened ears and tight fists however, told another story. Nonetheless, he compliantly unbuttons the top of his shirt and looks to the side, lying on his back. You smile apologetically and gently press the stethoscope to the skin of his chest.

Heartbeat… was sound. Slightly quick, likely due to current discomfort. You move the stethoscope around his chest, and you hear what sounded suspiciously like a breathy gasp. Focusing on your work, you dismiss it as a background noise. Lungs seem normal. 

Your own heartbeat is starting to quicken, for a reason other than the sniffles that had dulled to an occasional disturbance during your examination. His scent. Your eyes nearly tear up again from the effort not to breathe him in from your proximity. You feel the gummy walls lining your mouth salivate, the sticky fluid pooling in the crevices of your teeth. Was this possibly a symptom? Perhaps he was contagious after all, and the illness was an airborne one. You think back to a time when you had to treat a cloud-like demon who was overly condensed with liquids; and the very next day, you found that you’ve contracted a similar ailment yourself, your entire face bloated with an excess of fluid.

Perhaps that was Alastor’s case as well?

You should’ve brought a face mask. You move the stethoscope lower to his abdomen. Digestive track… you press the diaphragm tighter against his lower abs to get a better read. 

This time, the low noise that escaped his throat was almost impossible to miss. The strange feeling inside you squirms at the sound, but you clear your head of any dirty images, knowing that the radio demon was famed for not being interested in anything of that matter. Right. He’s most likely just in pain. Stay professional. You shift the stethoscope around, searching for a sound. Don’t make this moment any longer than it already is, you pray to no entity in particular.   

You move further down, still not hearing a sound from his digestive tract. Was that the issue here? He’s been having a rough time because there’s issues with his digestion? Well, that would certainly explain his reluctance to admit his illness. 

You’re so focused on listening that you don’t notice the gasps through gritted teeth rising in volume, relentless shifting of the demon beneath you, or the way your head, leaning ever so close to his skin in an unconscious effort to move closer to the stethoscope, was fastly approaching a forbidden area. Not even the heated gentle graze of suit fabric brushing against your chin interrupted your concentration. Neither did a strangled static-filled noise piercing the air. 

It was only when you felt the sudden assault of rough cloth, covering something pulsing warm and hard, colliding into your cheek did you finally blink in surprise, dropping the bottom half of your stethoscope in your haste. 

You stand up in a flurry, fluttering your lashes in disbelief as Alastor, the infamous feared radio demon overlord you only just met today, laid on his bed beneath you bucking his hips shallowly into the air where your face was a moment prior. His teeth are clenched so hard crimson black liquid drizzles over his gums and soaks the lapels of his suit. His eyes twitch along with his flattened ears, flickering and crazed, while his claws have shredded what was left of his bed sheets at this point.

“A-Alastor…?” 

His voice turns into something inhuman, growls layered with the eerie buzz of static. Before you could fully process the situation, he encircles a hand around your wrist, gripping you with bruising force to land on top of him. His arms encircle you, sinking his claws into your hips. Fuck, that hurt. But… you let yourself breath in his scent at last, having let your guard down with the suddenness of his movement. The effect was immediate. It felt as though you’ve given yourself a tranquilizer, with the way your muscles seemed to suddenly fail you and you melt submissively like butter into his hold. 

He tosses you onto all fours, and your elbows knock into one another as you strain to hold yourself upright. The dizzying, all-consuming fog of heat building within you and permeating each of your senses with its presence was all too foreign for you. Your mind scrambles, losing all progress of diagnostic thoughts. You wanted to pull away, to get him to calm down so you… could… talk…

That was the last of your conscious thoughts as you feel yourself slip into some sort of hypnotic bliss. He pulls your skirt to the side swiftly, pressing his hips to yours, the movement coarse and sloppy. The noise he lets out at the contact is depraved. 

“Darling… I’m just going to stay here for a bit… ngh - just for a bit.”

For a moment, he simply stays still, staticky gasps breathing hot on the back of your ears. He played with your tail, which was shaking back and forth with a mind of its own. You arch your back needily, pressing into him and prompting him to growl and finally hump into your heat. 

Was he saying something? You couldn’t tell with the way your brain had gone soft. An internal, animalistic voice told you to not think. Just part your legs and let the buck behind you have his way, it says. You whimper, the soft sounds slightly muffled by Alastor’s pillow - his pillow, which smells deeply, intoxicatingly, irrevocably like him. You’ve only met him today, but he was safe. The voice tells you that he’s yours, he’s going to protect you, he’s going to mate you.

He snarls into your ear at your needy whimpers, roughly jerking his hips into yours repeatedly. You whine, feeling the heat inside your abdomen crescendo into a sudden pain. You need him. You need more of him.

“A..Al…astor…hah… p-lease I need mo-re…” Your words fall apart with each thrust of his clothed cock over your soaked pussy, eyes starting to water with the frustration of not having his cock fill your aching hole.

In your heat-ridden mind, there was nothing you could think of but the insatiable need to be fucked dumb until you were filled by something. You cried in disappointment at not knowing what to ask. You try, you really do, but you can’t remember what the two of you were doing before this for the life of you. You gather enough strength in your ragdoll limbs to twist your neck at him, hand clumsily reaching for his pants. 

Then he stops.

He fucking stops.

Like a spell being broken, Alastor’s movements stutter to a halt the second your finger touches his zipper. He tears himself away from you, breaths shaky as he steps backward. It takes your dumbed-down consciousness a few moments to register what was happening. Your eyelids, which have begun to stick together from the adhesive of your dried tears, pry open ungracefully.

No. No, no, no, no, no! The fire in your abdomen twisted and turned, threatening to consume you whole with its intensity. He can’t leave now. No! You whine in protest, but he’s avoiding all eye contact with you. The bare skin on your hips were damp, and you realize it must be from the sweat you now see dripping off his skin in torrents. His mouth is twisted irregularly wide, even for him, as though he were pouring his all into maintaining his composure.

“My dear, I’m afraid I lost control of myself there. I do apologize, but right now you need to leave.”

You whimper, still stupidly reaching for him. Why would you leave? He’s right there. You need him, and you can smell, with a frightening accuracy you’ve never previously noticed in yourself, the desperation rolling off him. You climb toward him needily, pawing for his well-endowed girth, still twitching and hard under the offensive cloth, begging to be freed. 

“LEAVE.”

He didn’t take so kindly to your advances this time. With a single blink of an eye, you were torn away from your potential release and thrusted into the hallway, where you landed on your bottom, legs folded under one another and ears pressed against your head, staring at Alastor’s shut door with dazed eyes and unfulfilled burning in your womb.

Shit. As your mind clears and you tune into your surroundings - the red, flickering lights of the hallway and coarse texture of the rug beneath you - you think of the diagnosis that’s been right under your nose (literally) this whole time. You’ve dealt with animal patients before.

Yearly pains, usually lasting several months. Signs of fever. Changing behavior. Your heated reaction to his condition, the supposed contagiousness of it all. You’ve been blind as a deer in headlights. 

Alastor was in a rut.

_____________________________________________________________

Alastor thought that he'd gotten used to his ruts. That he would be able to handle his issues himself for the rest of eternity. 

It’s been nearly a century since he’s landed in hell, nearly a century since the torture began.

The first time the feeling hit him, it had been a complete shock. The feeling was foreign and intrusive; and while he had gotten used to his new height, physical animal features and sudden craving for cannibalism rather quickly, this cursed feeling was an entirely different field of issues altogether. 

He’s never been interested in sexual intercourse with another. Of course he knew what desire meant, but his own sense of desire had been so low throughout his life he barely needed to even touch himself. The small, infrequent bouts of want he experienced as a human was nothing like the searing hot whip of desperation that would haunt him in hell. He found it amusing, in an unpleasant sickening way; the way he thought himself to be entirely fearless, unaffected by what usually frightened others, yet the higher ups still ended up finding the one thing that bothered him and used it to punish his dead soul. 

He maintains the same grin and duties he had to attend to normally, albeit with a stiffer posture and less patient remarks. He didn’t touch himself. He had found out the hard way, during his first year, that touching himself would only increase the desire to an unbearable point and draw out the rut that much longer.

So he’d suffer through day by day, ignoring the itching in his antlers and the yearning confined in his slacks. 

Unfortunately, he’s come to the realization that each year without a mate, the duration of his rut would last longer than the previous. This year had been the longest yet, and given how fast time seemed to pass when he was not in a rut, it felt as though barely any weeks had passed since his last rut. If he were being honest, perhaps five months would be a better guess than three. Still, he followed the same rule he always did: do not give into the urges by having another, or make it worse by touching himself. It was his way of maintaining some semblance of control down in the depths of hell, where he found himself chained to not only a master but these unfavorable urges of his.

Though it was easier said than done. Many times he’s found himself unable to keep his composure, excusing himself from breakfast with the others, locking himself in his radio tower for days working on scripts, killing any scum who walked his way, doing anything to distract himself from the treacherous burning in his crotch. Anything to stop the inevitable bucking of his hips into nothing as his lower half takes on a mind of its own, wretchedly trying to catch a surface, any surface, to grind on.

Just when he finally got himself under enough control to sit at the bar for a drink, his hotel friends join him. Usually this was not a disturbance, yet the way they all seemed interested only in talking to him did strike his suspicion. People never initiated conversations with him, unless it was to foolishly challenge him to a fight. Not even his supposed friends, who had grown cordial enough with him over time but still maintained a comfortable distance.

Yet here they were, taking turns talking to him as though they’ve been doing the same congenial routine since he got here. Suspicious indeed!

He smelled her before he saw her. A sweet, tantalizing scent which wriggled into his throat and squeezed, causing him to stiffen his muscles and lid his eyes. She’s a doe. He realizes this all too late as he finds her standing in the doorway, bathing in the mouth-watering scent. The sudden flash of pain in his pupils alerts his companions, but not before they too, notice the girl.

He wanted to leave then, and really he could do so if he wished. Vaggie and Angel Dust couldn’t defeat him, and Husk was under his control anyway. But the traitorous need to get more of that delectable scent wafting off her body in waves was too strong for him to ignore. He’d only stay a few minutes more, he promises himself that. 

A few minutes turn into 10, and suddenly he’s all alone with her. 

A doctor. How ironic! She claims to hold the cure to his miseries, all the while not knowing that she had become part of the cause. Her presence was nearly unbearable to him who’d been in a rut for so long without a mate, and Alastor had to physically force himself to sit still by digging a claw into the meat of his thigh. She doesn’t notice his dilemma, nor does she notice the subtle crossing of his legs to hide the bulge of his painfully erect member, that had started leaking profusely into his slacks.

He plays the part of a gentleman the best he could, warning her with his eyes to maintain her distance. The poor girl was nervous and self-conscious, he could feel that. Normally he’d never care, but the damned hormones that influenced his thinking during his rut told him to soothe her, to assure her that everything would be ok, as tears quiver down her face. It was disgusting, the feeling of wanting to protect another. Disgusting, but also oh so right.

He held back when she accidentally touched him in the hallway. He held back, when she leaned in uncomfortably close, checking his temperature. He held back when she turned around, revealing her twitching tail and skirt that would be so easy for him to tear away and have his way with her. 

Yet he knew the unavoidable situation that would occur as soon as she had him lay down on his back, stethoscope in hand. He couldn’t help it. Each touch of her cool, gloved fingers pressing against his too-heated skin felt like the bitter promise of heaven for a soul deep in the trenches of hell. 

When her face is that close to the throbbing, aching part of his lower half, there was nothing he could do as a sharp sting of pleasure shot through his brain. He bucks his hips upward, body spasming and entirely fatigued from the many decades of having denied himself his biology. 

Why was he doing this again? At this point, who was he fighting against? Was he proving a point to the higher ups, letting them witness his impressive self control? Or was he torturing himself, making himself a fool by adding to the pain they already gave him? 

In the midst of his dilemma, he hadn’t noticed the way he grabbed her body and threw her onto the bed, nearly humping his hips into hers. He had been pent up for so long that he couldn’t even feel the pleasure initially, because his body was so used to him denying it. But when she turns her head to him, reaching out to touch him, looking at him with hazy, needy eyes…

Yes, that snaps him out of his thoughts. He must be out of his mind. After surviving a whole century of this torture, now he was letting go of himself all because he was put in front of another deer demon? 

He forgoes being courteous and removes her from his room as fast as he could, not giving the animal part of his brain a single second to change its mind. 

As soon as she was out, and he made sure his door was locked, he let out a pained growl, nearly crawling away from the door. His antlers lengthened, form twisted, the more animalistic part of him cries out in anger. Anger at himself, for throwing out his only chance at relief. His cock feels nearly numb with pain, growing in need from the narrow encounter a few moments prior. Resigning to his fate, he shakily unbuckles his pants, refusing to rip them off like he truly wanted to, for the sake of the little dignity left inside him. Rationally, he knew he was about to make things worse, but his instincts fed lies to him, telling him that this would make it all better.

Before he could even begin touching his leaking cock, he heard her. More specifically, he could hear her broken whimpers through the wooden material of his door, echoing needily through his head. Her scent had grown even stronger if possible. It was mind-numbingly sweet, despite the intensity being anything but so. He must’ve sent her into a heat, he realizes. 

This was going to… complicate things. Although Alastor could take care of himself, and was prepared to do so for the rest of his time in hell, he couldn’t let her - his doe - suffer from something he caused. Especially not with his current state of mind, where every molecule of his being told him to protect her. His mate. 

Then he hears the unmistakable slick sound of small fingers thrusting into something wet, and his ears stand pin straight as they turn to the door. 

He decides that the devil has tested him enough.

_____________________________________________________________

You’re leaning on the shut door of Alastor’s bedroom, sweat pooling in the thin threads of your clothing. Through the door, your head was clear enough to think; but that didn’t stop the incessant heat pooling between your thighs, attempting to suction all your attention toward one thing and one thing only.

Was this the type of pain Alastor has been in this whole time? You whimper, rubbing yourself depravedly against the rough carpet beneath you. 

There was nowhere to go. You were in no state to ask Charlie and the others for a room of your own, and you wouldn’t be able to tear yourself away from the scent of him if you tried. You mewl as you ground yourself in just the right spot - but the usual satisfaction didn’t come. Frustrated, you try grinding yourself harder into the carpet, ears alert for any noises you might catch from beyond his door. You hear the unzipping of his pants, and you cry, feeling almost betrayed at the sound of him. Shakily, you tuck your fingers beneath your skirt and plunge your fingers into your entrance, letting your fingers fill the gushing cavity.

You moan at the glimmer of relief, then immediately sigh in frustration as your fingers did absolutely nothing to quell the ache. 

The door rips open. 

“Alastor?” You blink wearily up at the disheveled demon, all seven feet of him glaring down at you. It doesn’t even register you to feel embarrassed at this point, with your hand still stuffed under your skirt in an obvious act of self-pleasuring. 

In a blink, the ground beneath you disappeared. Black smoke claws at your lungs and you squeal, finding yourself reappearing into existence on a plush crimson mattress. He materializes in front of you, breathing inconsistent and ragged, the radio static heavy in his voice. 

“Darling…” He encircles your wet thighs with his damp gloves, leaning over your so closely you could feel his sweat drip onto you. He leans his forehead on yours, the flush on both your faces matching in color. “I need-.”

You pull him down by his hair before he could speak, tiring of the whole waiting game. You didn’t want to hear a whole speech, all you wanted was to have him rail you so deeply into the bed you’d forget who was who. His lips crash onto yours, and you kiss him furiously, the heated passion arising from natural biological need stronger than anything you’ve ever felt with a human man.

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs with his knees, and slots his cock desperately into your soaked pussy. This time, you don’t give him enough time to pull away before you hurriedly work at the zipper. The moment your hands wrap around his member, hotter than the rest of him even, he lets out the most depraved noise you’ve ever heard another make. To think that you would’ve heard such a thing from the radio demon seemed nearly incomprehensible just a few hours ago. 

He takes control again then, flipping you haphazardly into the four-legged position you had assumed earlier. There was no need to prepare anything - the both of you were leaking so much that you were sure he could slip in without any pain, despite his impressive size - but still he hesitates, pausing with his tip at your entrance. It twitches against your slick.

He must be thinking again, you realize. Thinking dangerous thoughts, that would take away your relief. You weren’t going to let him stop this time, especially knowing now how badly he needed it.

“Alastor if you don’t put it in right now-.” 

He growls, each rivet of the sound layered with radio static. Without another word, he thrusts his whole length in. Or at least you thought it was the whole thing. But when he doesn’t move, and you peek curiously at the junction between you two, you realize with fascinated horror that he was only halfway in. 

You keep your neck in that twisted position, wanting to watch his face while he waits for your walls to loosen enough to take the rest of him. Instead of looking away, like he’d done so while trying to hide his condition, he stares straight into your eyes with his piercing blackened gaze. Between his dark eyes, the slightly lowered grin, lengthened antlers and bloody drool slipping down his chin, he almost felt more animal than person. Especially given the complete silence, aside from his staticky heavy panting. Like he was incapable of speaking at the moment.

The enchanting stare-off between the two of you was interrupted by a sudden sharp thrust from him, causing your head to tilt back as you ground out another whimper. There’s a loud smack as his balls hit the base of your pussy. Something wet drips on your bare shoulder blades, where his claws had torn off the top of your shirt. It’s from his mouth, you realize. His hot breath condenses on the back of your neck, and without warning, you feel the entire top row of his teeth sinking into your skin followed closely by a guttural moan. You half scream, half moan at that, and you feel the lips on your neck curl into a grin.

He starts moving his hips; back and forth, back and forth. Little white specks dot your vision, which was blackened as your eyelids reflexively shut from the overwhelming pleasure. Your brain shuts off, the only things you could feel being the throbbing yet fulfilling sensation of his teeth digging into your neck, the warm rivulets of your own blood running down your sides, his claws shredding into your hips, and of course the maddening gratification of his cock repeatedly drilling into your hole.

This heat thing- no, he was turning you into a hedonist. You feel his teeth momentarily pull out of your skin to lick at the blood trickling from your wound, your heartbeat helping gush the red fluid out in erratic waves. There’s a gulp; he’s swallowing, drinking the blood out of your body as he never stops thrusting. 

He pulls his teeth out and suddenly flips you around, cock still thrusted deep into your womb. You get a good look of his face, his eyes half-lidded, pupils an endless reddish black void, smile dripping with a mix of his natural darkened bloody spit and the fresh, vibrant red of your blood. He leans in, pressing the salty iron on his lips to yours. You, in all your heat-dazed mind and curiosity, let him thrust his tongue into the cavern of your mouth, invading your tastebuds with something musky and bitter, mixed well with  a pulsing sweet irony taste. 

You’re tasting him on your tongue. Him and you, together. You must really be fucked dumb because that’s the thought that brings you over the edge, body stilling as a cry rips from your throat, choking on the blood that had started to clot in your throat. Your walls spasm wildly around his length, causing him to thrust faster.

He fucks into your limp body on the bed, a look of deep concentration on his face as he works to overcome a century of not having orgasmed. He cums without any warning, face frozen into the same smile he always wore. He doesn’t want you to see him come undone. 

Your breaths begin to steady as he clings onto your hips, spurting endless amounts of sperm into your body. It never seemed to end. Each time you thought he was done, his hips would convulse and you’d feel another bout of liquid fill your womb. You reach a shaky hand to pet the bulge that filled your lower abdomen, your innards being stretched uncomfortably full from the girth of his knot and endless cum. He glances at you then, almost sheepishly. Almost apologetically, like he’s doing something wrong. You caress his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

You speak up. “That was… not what I expected when I arranged this appointment.” 

He stares at you in what looks like amusement.

It’s only now, in the aftermath of your session, that you notice how much of your blood was coating your skin, forming a thin, sticky layer. Yet he showed no signs of stopping, the same deranged grin gracing his face as the one that was there when you first started speaking. 

“I apologize dear, but it seems that we are far from done.”

He digs his teeth into your abdomen now, savoring the taste of iron on his tongue. You hiss in pain, twisting your body on the sheets as though to avoid his assault. But he maintains a firm grip on your sides, and you give in, letting the pleasure of being under his control overtake the pain. He sinks his teeth deeper, and there’s a weird tingling sensation where he bites. You wiggle a bit, realizing that the tingle was coming from the strange sensation of his teeth hitting muscle. 

“N-not done…?” Your own heat felt like it was fading, returning you to your normal state of mind.

“I’m not sure how long this will last, given the amount of time I’ve been putting off the whole ordeal.” He pulls your thighs around him and situates you in his lap. You blush, feeling shy all of a sudden at his unexpected display of affection. “Once it deflates enough to pull you off…” He nibbles at your earlobe, threatening to bite into the soft flesh. “We’ll be here for quite a while darling.”

You hum contemplatively, resting your head on his sweating chest. A long time… you weren’t looking forward to explaining all the missed appointments to your patients.

And you certainly weren’t looking forward to facing Charlie and the others. 

_____________________________________________________________

Two weeks later, Alastor finally let you leave his room for the first time. 

You limp to the door, wondering how you were going to explain the fact that you spent two weeks straight fucking the cum out of your supposed patient. Well, he was still a patient. And you had treated him. Just with a more hands-on method than you originally thought. 

You had cleaned up to the best of your ability in Alastor’s bathroom, where he took you one last time over the sink. Luckily, your shirt covered any wounds he left on your upper body. Unfortunately, given how short your skirt was, there was no way you could hide the deep bite marks from your thighs to your ankles. 

“So… you found out that his ‘illness’ was contagious because you contracted it, then locked yourself in his room essentially to quarantine from the rest of us?” Angel asks speculatively. It was clear he doubted the words coming from your mouth.

“That’s the most kind, pure-hearted thing I’ve ever seen a sinner do!” Charlie on the other hand, instantly bought into your lie. She holds your hands excitedly, a million thoughts racing through her head at what she could do with this information.

“Then what about those marks on your legs? Looks like you got mauled by an animal.” Husk is quick to point out the evidence, but you laugh, covering it up with another excuse you thought up.

“Oh that’s from when I went exploring alone in the swamp. Alastor didn’t tell me there were dangerous animals in there. Now I’ve learned my lesson!”

“Riiiight then why didn’t either of ya respond when we came checkin’ up on you all those times? We were worried, ya know?”

Alastor enters the bar, a grin brightly plastered on his face and clothing as polished as ever. “We were busy!” 

He’s already decided that you wouldn’t be leaving his side after you saw him in such a vulnerable state. That, and the strange alteration the rut left on his hormones has led him to form an… unexpected connection to you. After a few back and forths, you excuse yourself, standing up from the bar stool and heading back upstairs with the excuse of forgetting something in Alastor’s room.

On the way up, you feel the burning of several suspicious stares, as well as a strangely possessive and loving one. Your phone dings.

It’s a message. From Angel.

Just admit ya’ll fucked up there

.

.

.

A/N:  I’m not a big fan of writing “he growled” buuuuut my other options according to Google are “he snarled, barked, yapped, bayed(?)” and I wasn’t about to fucking write about how he bayed at the sight of your pussy. Maybe I should’ve just gone all in on making him a little bitch and only wrote “he whimpered pathetically” but alas the fic is over

[t0rturedangel]

How about the Hazbin hotel gang with seraphim child reader who just somehow appeared after ep 8

╭ . . . 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 ੭

����𝐀𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⿻  𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦??

⌦ 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 ﹕angel dust - swearing, just him being him. Alastor - ill intent, possible swearing. Mentions of killing, mentions of blood. Nifty - she tries to kill you, dw you dont die. this too me so long im gonna cry

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ okay, firstly just know that the crew goes fucking crazy- I mean they just fought an entire army of exorcist angels and killed Adam, the first man Adam!! So they all think that you're sort of there to try and punish them all for it, so they all get ready to attack (even though you're LITERALLY a child, children are wild though)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ that's until Charlie, bless her heart, recognizes you (and depending on if you tried to defend her in court just like Emily) and rushes up to you, holding her arms out happily- thats until Angel Dust surprisingly tries to stop her

"It's you!" Charlie gasped, her eyes widening in a pleasant surprise, you were the third and youngest seraphim and much like your older sister Emily felt the need to defend Charlie and her idea of redemption- the thought of allowing those who suffered to see the error of their ways and correct them and then given their reward of eternal peace sounded brilliant, much like Emily you were horrified to learn of the exterminations. You were the first one to openly agree to what Charlie had said despite Adam's comments and facial expressions, you also helped Emily in trying to make the court see what was wrong with this method, unfortunately your plans did not work, though Charlie remembered your efforts and clearly she enjoys your presence. At the glee in her tone, you smiled and stepped forward, wanting to give a hug to the princess of hell though paused in confusion when someone looking oddly like a spider stopped her.

"Woah there toots!" the spider called out to his friend, grabbing her arm to halt her movement- Angel dust was staring both you and Charlie down- a look of uncertainty and distrust painted all over his face "Why ya going to rando angels? what if they were sent down here to finish the job for Adam?", Angel did have a point- you appeared put of no where and was just standing outside the hotel? pretty suspicious.. though Charlie is quick to cool things down "Oh no no no! They're alright, they're a friend! They mean no harm at all- in fact [name] was one of the angels who supported my idea!" she turned to you joyfully, smiling from ear to ear "We can trust them!" ... "okay but how did they end up here? in uh hell?" Husk piped up, his voice full of boredom- or annoyance (you can never really tell with husk, what an odd man) "Oh I fell! ... or rather- I threw myself out of heaven" you happily answered the question, giving everyone a quick second to process what the actual fuck you just said.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ thats how you joined the hotel! Pretty nice innit??

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Charlie adores you! you're such a sweet little thing, you're a sweetie and are just so kind to everyone!! (at least that's what she likes to think)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she thinks of you as a little small sibling!, after all you're the youngest of the team and act just like her, plus she always wanted a little sibling so you're perfect!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ any ideas she thinks of or any redemption exorcises she runs them by you- to see if they can be more or less effective to get her friends into heaven

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Since Charlie could only stay in heaven for so long, she loves to ask you about heaven and how it was like- always being so invested in your stories, she honestly cannot get enough of them!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ also, Charlie is... painfully aware that she can never get into heaven, ever. Afterall, she's not only a hell-born but also literally the heir to the throne of hell so yeah there is no chance for her redemption, something she cannot handle- she cries knowing this but now that she has you- someone who ran from heaven, actively choosing to leave and come here gives her comfort. Now she'll never be alone, she has you and you have her!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ At first, Lucifer was startled and untrusting of you- you're a seraphim, someone that was just like him and could possibly actually take him down despite you being an actual child.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ over time, the king of hell did grow warmer to you, after all he sees a bit of himself in you. Both ex-angels, both hate heaven.... it's like you're his second little one!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Sometimes, when lucifer isnt busy with his actual child, he hangout with you- entertaining you with his magic while you return the favor with little stories and things, sometimes you even create little gifts like flowers for him.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Lucifer vows to keep you safe, even though you can easily take down hundreds of sinners and even overlords, it's paternal instincts what can i say?

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ this man totally makes you ducks- he has enough experience in making ducks so you know own a few dozen in your hotel room- how lovely!!

𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ oh this man, this radio demon. He's out for your soul, absolutely hell-driven to get it, and it's all for power (who could have guessed)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He doesnt like kids, in fact he can confirm that he absolutely HATES children though he will act all kind and lovely to you- remember though it's all an act! don't fall for it, he just wants your soul (if he gets your soul, your angelic soul? fuck- he'll be even more powerful than before, having an angel's soul would make him practically invincible!)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ This guy, funny fella really. HE CANNOT BUGGER OFF. Whenever you need help with anything he's the first to appear and offer a helping hand- and then in return as a favor back asks for a deal- is he serious? (yes. he always is)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Alastor though also, much like everyone else becomes a a bit soft for you- occasionally creating those little weird shadow creatures to play with you, since everyone around you are adults and are busy it's a way of keeping you entertained when they're busy

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He, also, understands that you are more powerful than him- and knows that if he gets on your nerves enough he'll probably become dust.

𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ at first, Nifty only had one goal: to kill you (hey don't blame her! Charlie told her to stab and she's still under that impression)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ good for you though!! coz you fly up right as she even tries to stab her dagger through your chest- Charlie and Vaggie immediately grabbing nifty to stop her from moving and killing you.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ after the whole misunderstanding, Nifty actually enjoys begin with you! you're clean, and help kill bugs (well really it's you pointing the bugs out to Nifty and her killing them)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ You're, unsurprisingly, taller than Nif so she likes to climb up on you and sit on your shoulders or stand on your back while holding onto your shoulders. She finds you the most comfortable to climb- plus she can hide in your wings and be used as a secret weapon.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she adores playing with roaches with you- while you are grossed out by it slightly, you still play to entertain Nifty (then after you sanitize your whole body about ten times)

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel tends to avoid you, not out of hate or spite or anything- it's just.... well he is aware of how he is and well he doesnt want to ruin you in the sense of his dirty talk and swearing.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ though occasionally he finds himself stuck looking after you, which is.... fun.... no i mean really its fun as fuck!!! Angel makes all sorts of jokes, offers you alcohol (you did almost take it if it werent for husk and practically everyone else to all collectively pry the bottle of vodka out of your hands)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel dust also teaches you some very creative swear words! so now, whenever you feel like talking you run around screaming weird insults at people, Alastor has heard you shout "EAT ASS AND DIE HORSE FACE FUCK BITCH!!" a few times to random sinners

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ The... star, is actually proud of teaching you those words- hey if you wanna stay in hell you gotta act like it!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ hides you away from Val- though somehow you still find out about him, and when you learnt how he treated your spider-friend.. uhm, the studio was in smithereens and val was close to death- now permanently loosing his right arm (just his right arm for now)

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐊

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ to you, Husk is like the weird- drunk uncle who just got out of prison. Though, he's the cool drunk uncle.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk doesnt really speak to you, which is brilliant coz you dont really speak- so the two of you communicate through looks and gestures, leaving everyone in the hotel watching you two 'talk' very confused.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ never gives you alcohol, no matter how much you ask with 'cherries on top' and if he does catch you with any intoxicating drinks he snatches them off of you- scolds you a bit then drinks the beverage himself.... hypocrite

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk helps you avoid Alastor, he doesnt want to see you being under his clutches, you dont deserve that you're just a kid.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He also teaches you how to do magic tricks just incase you ever want to become a magician... and sometimes he teaches you how to play card games- or how to gamble

𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ In all honestly, Vaggie is very much threatened by you- because like, do i even need to say it?? YOU'RE A SERAPHIM !!!!!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Buttt as long as Charlie is okay with you and you don't pull any stunts to try and sabotage the team you're alright! Just dont try anything.... please

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she accidently treats you like a soldier sometimes- a habit from her exorcist days, speaking of you could immediately tell she was one of those angels and while you did not like her at first you grew to like her- viewing her as a second older sister

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ you and Vaggie sometimes sit and remember old times in heaven- and you'd ask about the exterminations, though quickly stopped after noting her discomfort.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Vaggies also likes to try and swap weapons with you- to see if she and you can handle other weapons (unsurprisingly you both adapt quite quickly)

[barblaz-arts]

Ok I know you probably already figured out alastor's role in your soul eater hazbin hotel au, but im just picturing him as like the Excalibur of the au.

This ask is so fucking funny, I laughed for like half a minute over the mental image and had to draw it. I actually already had him planned to be like the Masamune(Tsubaki's brother) of this AU, but sure why not!

So if you're not familiar with Soul Eater, in this AU Alastor is a cursed blade that's kinda like a parasite to his meisters. He feeds on the soul of the people who use him and takes control of them. He has stitches on his clothes and mouth as a reference to the fact that he puppeteers his meisters, wrapping his strings around them, similar to how you need to have the chains of his blade wrap around you to use it.

He's generally against the academy cuz, duh, he's got a rotten soul, but he also has a personal vendetta against Lucifer and his students because his mother was a witch and it was one of the Death Scythes who ate her soul. He regularly eats witch(and human) souls to get stronger though.

Husk and Nifty are the Free and Elka counterparts, a werewolf werecat-witch duo who are under a big bad's command. (They're a cat n mouse? Get it? Alright...) Alastor is perfectly capable of fighting by himself, but he finds a certain kind of satisfaction in having a meister under his control. A human is certain to die under prolonged partnership with him, so he has non-humans like Husk and Nifty use him when he's not in need of a snack.

[showtoonzfan]

Rewatching the Hazbin pilot again, and ya’ll remember how Angel Dust was actually a dick on purpose? He didn’t care about the hotel, he was a selfish candidate who was just in it for the rent, he talked shit about Charlie and Vaggie behind their backs, he was a reckless jackass who didn’t know when to read the room and that was the point. He wasn’t a good person and he especially didn’t like or trust Charlie and Vaggie, so seeing his arc of gaining friends and being compassionate towards the people he didn’t appreciate at first in episode fucking 4/6 of the first season is so wild to me.

It’s so rushed and forced, especially for a character like Angel. It was clear from the pilot that while he had some redeeming qualities, getting along with others would take time. In the show however they manage to woobify him even more than he already was. He’s just so damn sensitive, there’s a big difference between him and pilot Angel. Pilot Angel didn’t give a shit about what other people thought of him, and he owned it. Show Angel is incredibly sensitive and pissed off at every little thing, he’s so whiny and desperate for some kind of approval, which on its own isn’t bad, it’s just too fast, not just that but it’s sudden with no buildup. In episode 2 of the show, he gets sad for some reason when Charlie is complimenting Sir Pen. Then in episode 4, he suddenly cares about her and there’s no explanation to why, same goes for Nifty in episode 6. Like yeah it’s nice to see him care about others but you forget to show us WHY he cares. Viv has gone on to say before that his character involves him putting walls up and blocking people out in fear of him getting hurt, so like….what happened to that lol, cause that isn’t showcased in the show.

Husk has the same issue. This guy is supposed to be a grumpy drunk, in the pilot we know he only took the bartending job for the booze. He’s a messy guy who doesn’t like anyone, and it should have been awhile till he actually started to care about people. Instead he’s like..almost instantly friendly after episode 4. This is the same writing issues Helluva Boss had btw. Viv is so incredibly desperate for you to like her flawed/bad characters that rather than taking the time to actually show them slowly improving, she instantly paints them out to be sweet and expects you to go along with it.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?

A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)

Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.

Word Count: 2,094

Previous Parts:

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)

Unrequited Pt. 2

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.

"I don't want you here tomorrow."

"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.

She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.

"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."

"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."

"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."

Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.

"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"

"Yes." Alastor nodded.

"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.

Alastor sighed.

"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."

"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"

Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.

"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."

"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."

The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.

"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."

"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."

"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.

Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.

"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."

Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.

His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.

Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.

"Why."

It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.

"Because I don't want you to die."

Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.

Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.

"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.

"Why do you care?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.

With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

"Because I care about you."

Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.

"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."

"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.

"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."

"Please, Alastor."

His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.

"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."

"I..."

There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.

"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."

It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.

"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."

Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.

The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.

With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.

Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.

Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.

"No."

She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.

"No. Nonono."

Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.

Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.

"No!"

She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.

"No! No!"

Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.

"NO!"

After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.

Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?

A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.

"Fucking..."

She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.

"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"

----

A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.