Im Sorry For Any Spelling Errors!!

I’m sorry for any spelling errors!!

I just wanna put this out here, I been dreaming about for like two weeks it’s like a series in my head. So this happens when Alastor was still alive, he falls in love with a woman who was a bit younger than him, she was a sweet doll. They slept together once!(sexually, they were each others first) But they were never officially a couple, Alastor wanted to but hasn’t made a move on it (cuz he was busy killing). So after they slept together she founds out she’s pregnant, since she was younger than him she was scared to tell him because they weren’t even in a relationship and didn’t want to ruin his career and reputation,  (she kinda knew what he did at night another reason why she was scared that he was gonna hurt her or the baby, still loved him)  but she was just scared so she told her family and her family sent her way and she never told Alastor. He was kinda of heartbroken when he found out couple days later that she moved away. Her family wouldn’t give him any information where or how to contact her. So he never saw her again. 

That’s the basics of it! 

Anywho, so she’s pregnant with twins one boy one girl (girl looked like her mom while the boy is a copy of their father), Alastor dies 3 week later when the twins where born, a hard working single mother. She did talk about their father to her kids and what he was like also looked like with the one picture she had. Years later mother dies of a sickness when the twins are 18 years old. (Mother goes to heaven)

The point of this is that the twins took up, dark magic, same as their father, but didn’t know that he did that to.

(Idk why but I like the names Maddie(boy) and Louisa(girl) for the twins, the boy is older by a couple minutes or months idk how the twin thing works )

By now the twins are 20 years old and for some reason Lou (short for Louisa) wants to know more about the mysterious Alastor, who is known to be their father. So she’s going through looking for information, anything about him. She just feels a little sad she never got a dad like the other girls she went to school with or when in middle school she couldn’t go to the Father daughter dance. She just wanted a little bit of a father figure while Maddie wasn’t really interested in knowing about their father, he sees their “father” as a guy who’s just a guy.

(As you can see both Daddy issues in two different ways, Maddie more of a mommy’s boy also was very protective of their mother when alive, and sister. Promising his mother to look after his sister) 

I have more to this but I wanna get into what kind of powers the twins have.

Louisa ability is more of a witch more like the Scarlet witch but she’s more a soft girl so she doesn’t really use it for evil. She very more connected to nature (like kiri from Avatar). She is the kindest person you’ll meet, she’s every understanding about others (she’s someone you can talk to without feeling judged) she doesn’t really care if she’s hurt physically, but emotionally not just to her but to the ones she loves… things get dark.

Maddie is more of a… fuck around and found out will inflict pain on you for just looking at them or his sister in the wrong way , like Alastor smiles a lot too, I wouldn’t say he’s soft but he’s very aware of his emotions but it’s hard for him to talk about it( rather suffer in silence)  ability is… it’s kind a like Alastor, but not really, but the form of it is also a Wendigo. he does know dark magic like spells, but he transforms into a beast like a Wendigo. (yk how Alastor and his shadow are like “friends?” They talk to each other and stuff) well Maddie has that too but it’s not a shadow kinda more a (venom) thing of his Wendigo who is his friend and they are bound together.

I have more but I can’t put it into words for right now Alastor does come up in this and meets the twins but this right here is more about them

More outfits

Here's a little treat (ha)

🟣with ➡️Prompt #4 list - gimme number 39

prompt 4, #39 Spicy!: soft lazy kisses & innocent touches that turn bolder and more sinful as you can’t resist each other

The hotel was quiet for once.

No bonding exercises or someone trying to blow up the hotel.

It was peaceful.

You sat in bed reading a book, cuddling against Alastor.

The soft tune of the radio played in the background as Alastor’sfingers drummed against the flesh of your hip.You giggled as the red demon pressed kisses to your shoulder, turning your head occasionally to catch his lips.

But it seemed Alastor had no intention of you finishing your reading as he pulled your chin to lean you into his advances.

You crawled to be seated in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck to peck his lips.

It was rare for you and the red demon to have just a moment of tenderness.

You sighed lovingly as you tilted your head, slanting your lips to mold against his and playfully nipping at his lips.

Alastor obliged to your request and coaxed your tongue into a dance with his.

His hands were massaging your plush hips, sliding down to knead your ass.

Your hands tangled in his fluffy hair, scratching at his scalp as you tugged them softly, resulting in Alastor groaning into your mouth.

You pulled away to snuggle under his chin, purring as you grind your clothed pussy against him.

Alastor groaned “easy cherie, thought we were just relaxing for the morning” Your face lit up in a smirk as you nipped at his neck

”Hmmm tell that to your cock Al”

He tightened his hold on your hips and growled lowly at you when you stubbornly rolled them.

”Didn’t you get enough of my cock last night? Such a greedy girl” He pulled your night shorts to the side to tease your slit, that was still drooling with leftover cum from the night before.

You relaxed against his chest, kissing his sharp jaw, licking his pouty lips

”Then satisfy me baby”

You let out a gasp as a finger dipped into your heat.

Alastor flipped you on your back, making you laugh as he ripped your shorts and threw your legs over his shoulder.

His red eyes floated to yours as he lowered his lips to your cunt

”wish granted my dear”

the wheel has chosen

🥁🥁🥁

🔴 prompt #3 and 19!!!

prompt 3, #19 Mild sexual tension, high emotion: fixes makeup for them

Alastor had invited you on an outing with him.

You had got all pretty and was enjoying yourself.

Your hair was curled to perfection, makeup was popping, and you wore the cutest outfit.

Alastor thought you were gorgeous.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

Especially your pouty lips that were painted a lovely shade of red.

The two of you stopped by Rosie’s and the tall woman cooed over you, chastising Alastor for keeping a pretty thing all to himself.

”Come now Alastor she’s way to young for you” she teased making you blush and Alastor roll his eyes.

He had business with Rosie today and left you to roam about her emporium.

Rosie had offered you to taste anything that caught your fancy and give your opinions.

”Now Alastor I know you dont parade around with a pretty thing like that unless you like her” Rosie smiled as she caught the Overlord watching you, tasting a sample of butter fingers.

Alastor cleared his throat, turning his attention to his friend.

”She’s more tolerable to be around than most” he commented making Rosie hum as she sipped her tea.

”Uh huh. Then why your eyes tracking her? I know a man fancying a lady when I see one”

His ears flickered. Did he like you? He did find you quite fascinating. You weren’t scared of him like most and you carried yourself with grace.

You were passionate and very stubborn.

He liked having you around and often looked for you when he wanted to go out. He even bought you things when you expressed an interest in them.

”sooo when you gonna tell her?” That made him blink

He tilted his head in confusion.

Rosie huffed “You better tie her down. Pretty girl like that, I’m sure she’s got plenty of demons looking to sweep her off her feet” 

He bristled. No one was better for you than him.

Alastor bid Rosie a goodbye and looped his arm with yours to head back to the hotel. You must have indulge in some goodies as your lipstick was now gone.

”Dear your lipstick is gone” he said, making you gasp as you pulled out your compact to look at your makeup. You pouted and pulled out your lipstick, blinking when he took the tube and cradled your chin, tilting it up to him.

”allow me”

His eyes traced the red as it painted your lips red.

It matched his attire well.

It truly was a lovely color on you.

”There” you rubbed your lips together and smiled at him.

”Thank you Al”

He nodded and the two of you continued on your way.

He wondered how that shade would look smeared.

The Lookalike (Part 2)

☒ Summary:Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You awakened in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Having fallen into the clutches of your doppelganger's nemesis, you plan an escape, blissfully unaware that the Radio Demon himself now knows of your existence.

☒ Warnings: Alastor X Reader, Vox X Reader, hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Series Links: Part I Part 3

Alastor sat in his usual breakfast spot on the balcony of the hotel, taking tea. Before him on the table sat an envelope, stamped and sealed with Voxtek logos. No-one sent letters in Hell these days, what with the smart phones that everyone seemed to love, but the weight of the item was such that it could only contain one thing. Photographs.

What was old Voxxy playing at? Alastor turned the envelope over in his hand, looking for anything out of the ordinary. In different circumstance, he might assume that this would be a threat or a blackmail attempt, but there was no-one in Hell he really cared about, and since his return after his seven year sabbatical he had committed no crimes worth speaking of- his deal made sure of that. Still, there didn’t appear to be a trap on the envelope itself, no microchips, not even a trace of Valentino’s irritatingly potent pheromone powder.

With a sigh, Alastor slit the envelope open with a single claw, and dumped the contents onto the table. What he saw took him a moment to register, and when he did he spat his tea.

What Vox had sent him were pictures of him. Alastor, naked and fucked out, electric blue cum dribbling down his inner thigh. Alastor on his back, eyes teary and pleading. Alastor with his knees hooked over the top edge of Vox’s screen.

Alastor crushed the first photograph between his claws, eyes becoming red dials, his grin extending to his ears. Vox had gotten him somehow. How? How had this happened? He’d been so careful, he’d never met in person, he’d brought his full mastery over technology to batter Vox back whenever they had interacted through screens. Yet somehow, here he was, splayed on Vox’s bedsheets. A hiss escaped him, angry static. Someone would pay for this violation.

“Hey, Al-” Angel Dust stuck his head out of the door but froze. “Oh fuck. See you’re having a moment here, I’ll go-”

“Nonsense.” With effort, Alastor forced himself down in size, his eyes returning to their usual form. “Just had a little surprise, that’s all.” With a little canned laughter, Alastor started to scoop up the photographs, in his haste scattering them more.

“So you finally fucked the TV, huh. Good for you, smiles.” Angel Dust squinted at the photograph that fluttered to land by his foot. “Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“I didn’t-” distress started to creep into Alastor’s voice, a high-pitched feedback tone as he snatched up more of the pictures, grinning with only his teeth. “I would never.”

Angel Dust gave him a doubtful look. “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with fuckin’, right? Hell I’m the last one ta judge-”

“I have no memory of this.” Alastor hissed, crushing another photo between his claws.

“Oh. Fuck.” Angel Dust gave Alastor a compassionate look. “Sorry, man, I shoulda listened. Lemme help you with those.”

“I am quite capable of gathering these-” said Alastor archly as Angel bent over to retrieve some of the pictures that had fallen under the table. To his annoyance, Angel held one photo up to the light, squinting at it. “Give me that.”

“Nah. Wait. Look, I’m a professional at this okay? Nothing I haven’t seen before. And this? This ain’t the tall dark and creepy I know.”

Your stay in Vox’s suite was enjoyable, but not something that could last. Mercifully the television demon worked long hours, which left you a good amount of time alone. It hadn’t taken much persuading for Vox to give you a phone, a shiny new model with his company’s logo emblazoned on the back. And once you had that, this place’s equivalent of the Internet was your oyster.

Your search history was probably alarming, but you trusted that no-one was monitoring it too closely. After all, you hadn’t resisted your fate, had been pliant and sweet for the television demon, even sleeping with your face nestled into his shoulder, his arm draped around you. You’d even let him dress you, a fanciful blue outfit with a tailcoat and bowtie, and if that wasn’t a sign of co-operation, you weren’t sure what was.

what is hell pentagram city

As you suspected, you were in Hell. Though you had no clear memories of your death, you were fairly certain you had died. The memory of falling to the ground in darkness was there, along with the pain in the back of your head, a taste like metal in your mouth. And being here rather than the other place, assuming the other place even existed, was no real surprise to you. Heaven was for the meek and obedient, and you’d done things that were neither. Scanning the information online, and reading between the lines, you picked up the basics. Sinners were ruled by overlords, and Vox was one of these, in a coterie alongside Valentino, the man who had pulled you in and a third overlord you hadn’t met. Overlords gained power from owning souls, but a quick scan of the information told you little about what this actually entailed. Was owning souls like slavery? Did being locked in Vox’s bedroom mean your soul was already forfeit? All you found at first was that soul ownership required a contract of some sort, so you continued your search.

how to tell if you have a soul contract can you be forced into a soul contract how to get out of soul contracts

There was conflicting information on the exact nature of soul contracts, but the general consensus was that the contract required the participant to be cogent enough to sign their name, or at least shake the hand of their new owner. That meant that it was unlikely that Vox actually owned your soul. The bad news was that a person could be coerced into handing their soul over, and you still didn’t have much leverage on Vox. Eventually he would want a handle on you, and the thought of it made you uneasy. You needed an out. It looked like murder would work to break a contract, but Hell’s social media sites were full of people complaining about how difficult murdering a fellow sinner was. People, it seemed, could recover from nearly any level of injury. Fascinated, you followed the topic further.

can you kill sinners how to kill sinners

Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only person on Hell’s internet interested in this topic. Aside from certain massive injuries, the answer that came up time and again was yes, angelic steel could kill sinners permanently.

what is angelic steel how to get angelic steel

The material was apparently from weapons dropped by heavenly exorcists, and highly sought after. It looked expensive, and you doubted that Vox would continue to buy your innocent act if you started asking him to bring you weapons. You checked the uses, scrolling down the list of applications until one caught your eye. Wire made from angelic steel was sought after by audiophiles for its use in the cabling of sound systems. And what was Vox, if not a man who would make for himself the best high fidelity sound system that money could buy? Stalking into the sitting area of Vox’s quarters, you surveyed his sound system. It stood about seven feet tall and a little longer across, the mesh over the speakers so black that it almost registered like a hole in your vision. You could almost imagine the sound it would produce just by standing there before it, the way the vibrations would run through your hooves and into your shins and through your spine. A shame, really. If you had been planning to stay longer, you could have asked Vox to play some music on it and sat there basking in the sound. Maybe even fucked to something slow and sensual, letting an external rhythm dictate your movements, letting the music override you.

With a sigh, you set the idea aside, opening one of the drawers set into the frame of the sound system. The thing was beautiful, so much so that you were reluctant to dismantle it unless you had to. Fortunately, a little rummaging led you to the spare cables that you hoped would be there, and running a talon over the protective coating, you slit one open. The metal inside was a whitish gold, braided thin enough to make a decent garrote. You tested the strength of it, winding each end of the cable around your hands and pulling it taut, and the feel of a weapon in your hands brought a giddy feeling to your chest. After days of feeling adrift, the tension of the wire between your fingers felt like finally hitting land.

You wouldn’t kill Vox. Not only was it a bad idea- you had no idea how much strength he had, and killing him would set Valentino and Velvette both after you- but you didn’t want to. Even if he had spent the entire time moaning the name of the man with your face, he was still a good fuck, and it felt like bad manners to repay those tender services with a red and sticky end.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the bottle of Valentino’s pheromones from the dresser by the bed, slipping it into the inside pocket of your tailcoat as you tossed the Voxtek phone you had been using back onto the bed. Drugs had never been your usual route of attack, but who knew what would be waiting for you outside the walls of the Voxtek compound?

Getting out of Vox’s suite was easy enough- the override password on the door was fuckalastor, all lower case. But once you were outside, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Even with the length of angelic steel wire wound around your hand, you didn’t feel quite safe.

Alastor watched the V tower from the shadows, an ugly feeling in his chest. If the demon in the photos wasn’t him, as Angel Dust had claimed, he really had nothing to complain about. But the fact that Vox had seen fit to find a demon who was his doppelganger and then find fit to send evidence of those exploits to him? That was still an insult, a figurative glove across the face. His problem was twofold, however. Firstly, the constraints of his deal forbade him from undertaking violent action against anything not a direct threat to the hotel, which V tower very much was not. The second problem was that of his injuries from his fight against the angelic horde. He had lived, barely, but the rent across his chest was a persistent throbbing ache, a gap in him from which static escaped. It rendered him weak. It reduced him to watching and skulking like some street level cur.

It was in this state that he saw you exit the tower through one of the side entrances, your movements furtive and your ears down. You wore a copy of his own outfit in Voxtek blue, and the very sight of it brought a sour taste to Alastor’s mouth. How dare you, an impostor, a fraud, go round the city wearing Vox’s livery, as if the television demon owned you? It was embarrassing. He would make you take it off. Hissing rage between his teeth, Alastor followed you.

There was definitely someone following you. You could feel it. You had been on the other side of this equation too many times in your life, the fear of the other at the periphery of your awareness, chasing down with heartfelt and open-mouthed glee, that it was impossible to miss when you were the one being stalked. The shadows in Hell grew long and strange, studded with eyes and horns and mouths, and you took another blind turn into another darkened alley, grounding yourself with the sting of the angelic steel wire across your palm. You still weren’t wholly used to your new shape, and even now though you were no longer the trembling-legged fawn that Vox had half-carried to his bed a few nights previous, your gait wasn’t the steadiest. If you started running, you were fairly sure you would fall.

You would deal with it, whatever it was. That was how you had always done things. You chose the pragmatic option, you coped. You chose the righteous option, even if no-one agreed with you, even if it meant doing what no-one else could bring themselves to do. You chose the dangerous option, even if it meant staring down the creeping fear in your own heart. You slipped into the shadows, your back hard against the wall, garrote threaded between both of your hands, the pulse of your heartbeat a thunder in your ears, a pulse in your throat, the adrenaline of it making you almost dizzy, almost nauseous, almost aroused. In this your new body was the same as the old. You would catch your hunter, whoever they were.

He stalked round the corner, a figure in red, and with a start you recognized his silhouette as the same as your new body. Alastor. What had Vox said about him? A washed up radio host, a demon with no real power to speak off, feeding off the nostalgia of a bygone era? With a single motion you stepped behind him, looping the angelic wire around his neck and yanking it tight, pulling his body back against yours. He struggled, claws going to his neck, but his claws couldn’t shear the angelic steel any more than yours could.

Hissing, he twisted in your grasp, claws raking a symmetrical gash into your forearm, and you gave an involuntary, crackling cry, holding fast as you felt the blood well. Then two thick strands of shadow sprouted from Alastor’s back, pushing past your chest and wrapping around your own neck. You stumbled back in panic, back hitting the brick wall, vision blurring as the tentacle constricted your blood flow, your grip on the wire slackening. No! You couldn’t lose. There was no air in your throat but you still managed a noise, a soft whine like a capacitor failing to discharge, before your vision went truly black.

Well, that would have been an ignominious way to die. Alastor felt the mark at his throat and his hand came away bloody. His own blood. Sloppy. He gave a low noise of displeasure as he looked down at your unconscious form, the bright blue of that ridiculous parody of his suit now ripped and stained. He hadn’t been expecting a fight, not from Vox’s fucktoy. Had this been a trap after all? No, there were no reinforcements, no cameras. Not the television demon’s style.

Bending down, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger, examining your face closely. As it had been in the pornographic pictures that Vox had sent him, your face was a close match for his own, expression relaxed and naked in something close to sleep. What was more, it didn’t appear to be a disguise, your cervine features quite genuine.

Alastor ran his fingertip over your antler, freezing when he felt the velvet covering, the blood vessels just beneath the skin, a jolt in his heart. You were so vulnerable like this, a single cut and you could bleed out. No deer demon would go out like this. At least, not one who had knowledge of their own body. The implications sank in his gut like lead. How long had it taken for his antlers to mature, when he had come to Hell? A couple of weeks? Alastor felt his lips curl back further past his teeth, hating Vox a little more. Vox had nearly made him kill you, a newcomer to Hell, for the crime of being weak and confused enough to be dragged to Vox’s bed.

What should he do with you? Leaving you here so close to Vox’s domain would get you dragged back to the television, and you were an innocent, well, not quite an innocent, you had tried to garrote him with angelic steel wire, but few people in Hell were truly innocent. He couldn’t kill you, at least not now, with your supine form posing approximately no threat to him. With a resigned sigh, Alastor scooped you up in his arms, disgusting blue suit and all, and began his walk back to the hotel.

You awoke in an unfamiliar place, your face pressed into the pillows of a four-poster bed. It smelled like musk, a rich, smoky sort of smell, with an undercurrent of formaldehyde, and it was oddly comforting, wrapping around you almost like an embrace. Drowsily, you took stock of your body, the ache around your neck and a burning throb that seemed to cover your forearm, remembering the struggle in the alleyway. The scent in your nostrils pulled you back to the memory, with your hands at the back of your double’s neck. This was how Alastor had smelled. This was, unmistakably, Alastor’s bed. He had hunted you, and now he had taken you to his lair to toy with you. Your garrote was missing, predictably, as was the pheromone bottle you had stolen from Vox. You rolled onto your side to survey the room, and Alastor loomed from the shadows.

“Ah, the impostor rises,” chirped Alastor. His smile stretched practically ear to ear. “Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“My windpipe hurts,” you said, frowning at him.

“Oh, quid pro quo, dear child,” said Alastor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and undoing the collar of his shirt to show the bandage at his neck. “Do you have any idea how long it has been since someone made me bleed my own blood?”

“You were hunting me,” you said, not bothering with any of the cutesyness you had tried with Vox. Alastor had felt you close a wire around his neck- he would never see you as harmless.

“And you were quite the game, little impostor.” Alastor leaned over, and with a slow, deliberate motion, pressed his fingertips to your antlers. You had done your best thus far to ignore the existence of the two prongs sticking up from the top of your head, and even Vox had avoided touching them, so the sensation took you by surprise.

Your antlers were incredibly sensitive. You felt every variation in pressure, every adjustment in position, through your antlers, through their connection to the bone of your skull and further, down your spine and into your loins. Alastor met your eyes, his own half-lidded, and gave a gentle squeeze between thumb and forefinger. You whimpered, feeling the prongs grow under his hand, feeling your face heat.

“Hm. Soft,” he murmured, half to himself, before bringing your attention back to him with another little squeeze, directing your head to his lap. “Not much fight in you now, is there?”

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, heart in your throat.

“My dear, where would be the fun in that?” Alastor replied, his tone shifting to genuine amusement. “A touch could kill you right now.” As it to make a point, he ran a fingertip from the tip to the base of your antler, and you shivered as you felt the touch echo through your body. “Do you have any idea how much blood you would lose, with just one little nick?”

With Alastor touching you like this it was difficult to think straight. It was as if he knew this body better than you did, each touch intense to the very edge of painfulness, the sensations continuing to resonate through your body. You swallowed, burying your face against his thigh. “What do you want?”

“Now now, little pretender. That’s my line, not yours.” Alastor gave a soft laugh. “Though I imagine I know what you might desire. A world where Vox has no ability to drag you back to his bedchambers would be a start, don’t you think?”

Slowly, you nodded against his thigh, and Alastor gave a soft noise of approval. With both hands now he worked his touch from the base of your skull to your antlers, each movement a vivid, carnal pressure through your body. It was like nothing else, and you felt your antlers grow still further, your pulse throbbing through them, your cock aching untended against the inside of your pants, your cunt clenching unfilled. You bowed your head to Alastor’s gentle, dexterous touch, your mouth open as you moaned against his trouser leg, a clipping edge to your audio.

“Oh my, you are enjoying that.” The growl in Alastor’s voice was salacious. “Is it your first time? Does the mean old television demon not know how to touch you like this?”

You weren’t in the mood to indulge Alastor’s fantasies about Vox, not after days of doing the inverse, so instead you whimpered, “Thank you.”

“Mm. At least you have manners, I suppose.” Alastor lifted his hands from your antlers, and you gasped at their absence, the air cold where his fingertips had been warm. With a touch to your chin, he indicated that you should rise, and you did, propping yourself up on your elbows before sitting back.

Sitting up, you noticed that you were not the only one who had grown an impressive rack. Alastor’s antlers extended like the shadows of trees in winter, his own arousal written over his smiling face. They curled, dendritic and beautiful and unmistakably tied to his own libido, echoing through his own body in the same way as yours did. The way he touched you told you that, if nothing else.

Your eyes glazed, head tilting forward. You wanted to lock antlers with him. You wanted to touch him, bone to bone, and feel the same waves resonate through the two of you. You wanted it very, very badly.

Alastor caught you by your injured throat with a hiss. “If you do that,” he said. “You will die. Your antlers are too fresh, and you will damage them, and you will bleed out on my bedspread. So instead, sweet little pretender, you are going to lay quite still and let me tend to you.”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered as Alastor released you, the pain from his grip bringing you a little way back to your senses, your heart fluttering as tears stung your eyes. What did he see in you, you wondered. Was it a way to get one over on Vox? Or simply a reflection of his own face?

“Silly creature.” Alastor sighed, pushing you onto your back, and crawling over you, a depraved gleam in his eye. “You strangle me half to death in an alleyway, risking damage to my precious voice, and now is when you are tearful and apologetic? When I am trying to stop you from hurting yourself?” He placed a hand at your neck again, though with less pressure this time, just enough to hold your head in place.

You didn’t just want to lock antlers with him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, sharp teeth against yours. “Would you kiss me?”

“I suppose I don’t see the harm. Hold still, now,” Alastor warned, and you felt how carefully he closed the distance between the two of you, how carefully he avoided even a brush of his antlers against yours, though electricity sang in their proximity, the shivering static of not quite the barest touch as Alastor’s lips closed on yours.

Compared to Vox he was a chaste kisser, not bullying his way in but leading you to him, leaving you wanting him, touching tonguetip to tonguetip, nose to nose, needlepoint tooth to lip. It left you gasping, left you quivering, your cock straining against the fabric of your trousers. With an almost coquettish roll of his hips, Alastor pushed his pelvis flush with yours, and you felt his own matching tent. Through four layers of fabric it was still an aching kind of hot, his pulse through it as surely as it was through his antlers. With a slow, measured motion he ground himself against your length, making you whimper soft distortion into his mouth, the tip of your cock leaking wetness and your neglected cunt absolutely slick.

“Oh, this will be fun.” Alastor’s eyes creased at the corners as he pulled back a little, his cock still pressing hard and hot against yours. “Call me a narcissist if you will, but I know that expression. Are you really going to climax, just from a little kissing?”

You would have corrected him, but he wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how well he knew your body, how adeptly he stroked along the tines of your antlers, sensation resonating deep and intense through your body to your core, a master on an instrument you had yet to learn. Locking smug eyes with you, he rolled his hips against yours, grinding against you further, and you mewled for him, hips bucking a little as sensation threatened to overcome you, fighting against the inexorable tightness that built. But just as in the alleyway, this wasn’t a fight that you could win.

You came, your cock pulsing wetly against the inside of your pants as the reverberations through your body sang, a static whine on your lips, absolutely understanding why Vox had moaned Alastor’s name.

Both of you stilled for a moment after that, your body still wracked with aftershocks, Alastor watching you closely, his expression contented. He made no move to please himself, but rather traced the edge of your face, from your temple to your jaw, with his talons. “Good?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Good didn’t begin to describe it. It was sublime, another aftershock hitting you even now. You closed your eyes. “The best. Thank you, Alastor.”

“My pleasure.” Alastor looked down at you with a pleased smile. “You’ve made a real mess of that suit,” he said, a tilt of his head, his own desire for release seemingly forgotten. “Allow me to take it off for you.”

Alastor grinned at the hidden camera on the suit’s lapel, saying nothing but making sure it got a good shot of his face before he crushed it between thumb and forefinger.

𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢

𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯

WARNINGS: mimzy... she definitely needs her own damn warning, swearing because hey, it's hazbin, female reader x alastor, death, slight mention of blood (not graphic), and just Alastor giving the reader a loving kiss

anonymous request

It was a beautiful day in New Orleans, Louisiana and word on the streets was that the most beloved, popular radio host Alastor Hartfelt was getting married today. Y/N had captured his heart the moment he saw her at Mimzy's club opening 2 years ago. Everyone was so excited for this wedding, the streets were decorated with white flower pedals and white streamers. But of course with a wedding, there's always those few who object... one being Mimzy, one of Alastor's greatest friends and some other fan girls Alastor had charmed with his voice through the radio. But there Alastor was, preparing for the big day with Y/N's dad and older brother, who treated him like family, which Y/N loved dearly. And they were standing in Alastor's room as Mr. (Y/L/N) adjusted Al's tie, "Can't have you going out there looking sloppy. You know Mrs. will come after me." your dad laughed, making all the men laugh. "Here, one last shot as a single man." your brother smiled, handing Al a small glass with whiskey. Your brother was Alastor's drinking partner; every weekend, they were at each other's house, sipping on whiskey and talked about life together. They even worked together at the studio, Alastor helped your brother get a decent paying job there. "Cheers." Al smiled as they both clinked glasses together. They quickly downed the whiskey and coughed lightly before laughing, "Another one, sir?" your brother asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "No, Paul. Alastor cannot be drunk for his wedding. And your sister would love it if you were sober too. Clean up." your dad lightly scolded your brother, and your brother did as he was told.

And there was you, our lovely bride, freaking out in your bedroom as your mom adjusted your veil. "Darling, you're going to sweat off your makeup." Alastor's mom sighed before lightly patting your face with a damp cloth. "I'm sorry, mama." you frowned, "This is nerve wrecking." you panicked, trying to breathe. Your mom stood in front of you, "Sweetheart, relax. This is a wonderful day! Literally, the sun is shining bright! Perfect for your outdoor bayou wedding." your mom smiled, hugging you tightly. "What if hen says no?" you wanted to pull your hair but your mom would have whooped your ass if you did, as she paid good money for it. "Oh, my lovely." his mom chuckled, "My son loves you so much, and will continue to love you til the end of time. I don't even think death will do you guys apart." she caressed your face gently as you leaned into her touch, "Forever and always, my boy is yours. He worships the ground you walk on. Plus, I'm glad it's you he chose and not that crazy woman, Millie?" she wondered. "Mimzy." my mom and I deadpanned with a blank expression. "She better not be at that wedding." Al's mother scoffed, crossing her arms. "I made sure she wasn't. Alastor agreed, he seemed okay with her not being there." I shrugged as I grabbed my bouquet of flowers. "Alright, let's get this show on the road." your mom clapped her hands excitedly.

And soon enough, you were face to face with your soon to be husband, Alastor Hartfelt and he had not said a word since seeing you hence he was speechless on how outstandingly gorgeous you looked in your dress. Well, he did compliment you of course but man was still in complete awe of how stunning you looked. The priest was saying his words, while clutching onto the bible in his hands and everyone in the crowd was in awe of how wonderful the couple looked together with the bayou in the background. "Now, Alastor Hartfelt, do you take Miss (y/n) (y/l/n) as your lawfully wedded wife?" the priest smiled. "I do, until the end of time." Alastor smiled as he squeezed your hands. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N), do you take Alastor Hartfelt as your lawfully wedded husband?" he asked. "I do, a million times yes.", now it was your turn to squeeze his hands. "I now pronounce you- oh golly, okay. Husband and wife." Alastor took the priest by surprise when he grabbed you, smashing his lips roughly onto yours before dipping you in his arms. After standing up, you felt so happy and loved, everyone was clapping. But, the sound you least expected went off and everyone went from clapping to screaming. You placed your hand where you felt the pain, and looked down... you saw... blood?! You panicked, and looked up at Alastor, who was also covered in blood. "Al." you panted, reaching out for him. He cried as he caught you, "Did you get shot too, amour?" you whispered, shivering in his arms. You felt his head rest on top of yours as everyone scurried to surround you guys or to save themselves. But whoever was around you didn't seem to matter as you felt your life slowly slipping away. "I did." he whispered. "Well, death is going to do us part, huh?" you sniffled, crying terribly. Your makeup was running but Alastor didn't care, as he always thought you were the most beautiful thing on the planet. He caressed your face, "Nope. We'll be together even after death, Cherie. I promise you." he assured you before he kissed your forehead. Your eyelids grew heavier and you took a deep breath before closing your eyes.

A few years have passed and you landed in Hell with Alastor. You weren't surprised, he was a serial killer after all and you were his little doting love who assisted with the killings. Your wedding outfits were sacred in your relationship, it was untouchable. It was stored away safely in the hotel after Alastor had proven himself to Charlie and Vaggie. Alastor made some changes to his suit and still wore it with pride but your dress, you had it stored away for personal purposes. You died in that dress, so why not? You were upset when you found out sinners couldn't have kids... You always dreamt of having a family with Alastor, maybe just one kid. But either way, you wanted a family but never got it.

It was the day when the king of Hell came to visit the hotel and see his daughter after so long. And of course someone you LOATHE made an unexpected visit.... Mimzy. She was practically all over Alastor, saying she missed him and this and that and quite frankly, it pissed you the fuck off. "I don't think she's here to say hi." Husker whispered to you. "She never is, I swear she's here for him to clean up something." you hissed, crossing your arm as you watched her hug your husband's arm. Mimzy really knew how to boil your blood, and boy she did a good job at that. "Excuse me, he's not your husband. Fuck off." you snapped as you practically shoved her off him. You dusted off Alastor's arm and kissed his cheek. He wasn't big on PDA and you knew it but he allowed it in cases like this where you had to make your point across to a demon, or whomever else. "You've been nothing but rude to me since we met, Y/N." Mimzy scoffed at you. "You fucking bitch." you went to launch yourself at her but Alastor's tentacles held you back. "You were a rude bitch when we first met. I tried so hard to be nice and civil with you. But you're just mad I stole the guy you wanted." you commented, pointing your finger at her. Everyone was standing by watching, Angel and Husk were sharing popcorn. "Most action I've seen here." Angel laughed. "And then the icing on the cake, you hired a hit-man to kill me on MY wedding day." you snarled. The hotel foyer was filled with gasps and then silence, "What a bitch." Angel huffed as he crossed his sets of arms. "Whatever, it's the past." Mimzy scoffed, flicking you off which made you angrier. "I suggest if you wanna be safe in this hotel, you knock off your nonsense... I wouldn't mind letting MY wife kill you." Alastor sternly spoke to his dear friend. "How about we give both Mimzy and dad a tour of the hotel?" Charlie lightly laughed. "Get her out of my eyesight." I scoffed before walking away to the living room and sitting by the fireplace.

A few months later, everyone joined you in the living room just muttering against each other. "Hey, where's the crazy bitch?" Husker asked and everyone panicked. Your heart rate sped up, feeling like she was up to something once again. And your gut never lied to you, but you were scared as to what she was up to this time. "Oh, Alastor, darling. I'm ready to show you what a REAL wife is." Mimzy cooed at the top of the stairs. Everyone's head turned to see her in... "TAKE MY FUCKING DRESS OF YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORE!" you screamed, running to tackle her. Anger took over your body and all you saw was red as you laid punches on her face. Tears fell out your eyes as well, how could Mimzy disrespect you so much? Every time she did, it hurt but this time crossed the line. Soon enough, Lucifer and Charlie pulled you off Mimzy and you shivered in anger, "Get the fuck out of the hotel, Mimzy. And leave my fucking dress behind." you spat, curling your fist. "Al-" your husband shut her up really quick, "You didn't hesitate to not only disrespect my wife but me too, in front of our friends. I ask that you remove the dress and return it where you found it and leave us alone... for good. I will no longer take care of you and your messes anymore, Mimzy." Alastor angrily stated, his eyes glowing red and antlers growing. Everyone started commenting on how rude it was of her and asked her to leave as well. You started tearing up again as you felt Alastor's hand around your waist. You turned to hug him and bury your head in his shoulder, letting out your tears and he ran his hand through your hair, "It'll all be ok, Cherie." he assured you. "Honestly, Alastor. What do you even see in that woman?" Mimzy scoffed, crossing her arms. "My wife is the most loving, doting woman I could ever ask for. The things she makes me feel and the way she's been there for me through everything is enough. I love her. I'm still upset you hired a hit-man and killed us during our wedding ceremony. If you were a true friend, you wouldn't have done that to me." Alastor's radio voice sounded a bit more violent. "And no one EVER hurts or disrespect my woman." he snarled as his eyes turned to dials and he held you tightly in his arms. "I would take the dress off and leave." Husk stated, crossing his arms. Mimzy screamed curse words as she stumbled back to yours and Al's room to take off your dress. "Your stupid fucking dress is on the bed, you fucking idiot. One day, I'll get him." Mimzy spat at you angrily. Alastor let you go as Angel reached over to console you. Alastor transformed into his demon form and Mimzy shivered in fear as she slowly walked backwards out of the hotel, "Leave and NEVER come back. This friendship is fucking over. And I will NEVER want you." Alastor roared in her face before quickly turning back to his normal form, "Good talk and farewell." he sighed, dusting his shoulder off. All Mimzy could do was flick him off before stomping away. You softly smiled before throwing yourself in your husband's arm. He smiled as he held you tightly, "Forever and always, Cherie, I will love you." he muttered for only you to hear. You blushed as you looked up at him and pressed your lips onto his. His grip on your waist became tighter as the kiss lingered on. "Dear. Maybe tonight." he whispered pulling away from the kiss. You giggled before turning to the group, "Sorry guys." you blushed as they stood there with jaws dropped. "I know he's married but Freaky Face knows how to kiss?!" Angel teased and everyone then heard a loud radio static, making your laugh.

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A/N: I hope that met your expectations at least! I had so much fun writing this to be honest because if you can't tell from my 'His Dear' series, I DESPISE MIMZY😩😭 I cannot stand that woman truly. But again, I hope you guys enjoy this and if you have any other ideas or requests, my inbox is always opened!❤️

ALSO FAIR WARNING, I do try to proofread my work but I normally miss something so if I do, feel free to correct me. I do tend to make SOME minor changes too after posting; Thank you, toots🥰