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TAGS/WARNINGS: fingerf♡cking, dom/sub undertone, no established relationship, dub-con, f!reader, shadow f♡cking, power imbalance, gagging, bondage, asphyxiation, brat!reader, ♡verstimulation, alastor being a lil shit, b♡ndage, alastor makes reader into his lil b!tch lykyk

EXTRA WARNING: This is not a drabble. It is 3.9K words long.

Leaning back in your chair, you mirrored the unsettling grin that stretched across Alastor’s face. His grin, a sharp crescent of teeth, seemed to carve deeper into his cheeks. His eyes squinted just slightly – enough to glint with a darker, more ominous edge.  

You felt a spark of excitement ignite in your chest as you watched the subtle shift in his expression. It was a game to you now, one you’d become quite fond of.  

“My, my, I do feel awful that no one listens to your broadcasts anymore, Alastor,” you purred, your voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. You stretched your arms above your head lazily, as though you had all the time in the world.  

Ever since you’d come to the hotel, Charlie’s redemption exercises had left you with more downtime than you cared for, and boredom was your worse enemy. But now, you found entertainment in a much more thrilling pursuit – pushing the buttons of the ever-grinning, one and only, Radio Demon.  

A wicked thrill slithered down your spine when you noticed the faintest twitch of his left eye. His head tilted to the side, a glimmer of amusement – and perhaps annoyance – flickering behind his red-tinted gaze. He scoffed, the sound like static breaking through a radio, and muttered something about the “younger generation not appreciating the finer aspects of real entertainment.” 

As Alastor turned his head away, a shadowy movement caught your eyes. His shadow, usually a perfect reflection of him, rippled as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there.  

And then…it shifted.  

The once-stoic silhouette frowned, its mass shrinking, folding in on itself like a chastised child. It looked almost…sad.  

Oh? Now, this was interesting.  

You’d never teased Alastor about his powers before, but this might just be the perfect opportunity. The idea of seeing him drop that ever-present, smug grin sent a delightful jolt of pleasure through you. Leaning forward, your grin spread wider, more mischievous than before.  

“You know, Alastor, I’ve noticed something quite fascinating about you. Your powers…quite the spectacle, aren’t they? Shadow magic, if I’m not mistaken?” You tilted your head, watching him intently.  

To your amusement, Alastor perked up at your words, his chest puffing out slightly, and a proud look took over his expression. He casually inspected his nails, playing into the flattery. “Ah, yes, indeedy! My abilities are rather unique – far beyond the capabilities of any other demon’s magic, I dare say –“ 

“It’s a pretty lame power,” you interrupted, smirking as you blew a raspberry. “I mean, shadow magic? Really? I’ve seen cooler tricks at a children’s birthday party.” You glanced pointedly at his shadow, which now seemed to shrink even more, trying to hide behind Alastor’s body. “Honestly, the TV demon has way better power. You ever see the stuff he can do? Now that’s impressive.” 

Alastor froze, and in that instant, the surrounding air grew thick and heavy. The room itself seemed to fall under a strange, unnatural stillness. Before you could blink, something cold and slick snapped across your lips, silencing you of any further quips. Your eyes widened as you struggled to move, but your limbs were no longer yours to command. Invisible tendrils of force held you pinned to the chair, your body stiff and unyielding. 

Alastor’s grin widened, impossibly so, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a low, vibrating hum that echoed through your mind.  

“My dear,” he cooed, leaning in just enough for you to feel the pressure of his very presence, “there are some games you don’t want to play with me.” 

You squirmed from the invisible restraint that rendered you mute and powerless. 

“What was that, dear?” Alastor’s voice dripped with venomous amusement; his eyes gleamed with a malicious red glint. His grin, too wide, illuminated in a sickly yellow glow, casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. Slowly, methodically, he tilted his head to the side, the crack of his neck echoing through the room like the snap of a dry twig underfoot.  

Your heart leapt in your chest, but you tried to maintain your composure. Glancing down at your hand, you noticed it trembling ever so slightly, a faint dark aura curling around your fingers like mist. When you looked back up, Alastor’s eyes were already locked on you, his grin didn’t falter, but the malice radiating from him was palpable, chilling the surrounding air.

“You’ve been so incredibly chatty before, and now…you’ve grown ever so silent!” His laugh was low, a dark melody of mockery as he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as if savouring the moment. “I’m surprised that you chose now to listen to your better!” His voice lifted into a higher, mocking pitch, echoing through the room like a twisted lullaby.  

A grunt of frustration left your throat as you tried to move, but your body refused to respond. The invisible force binding you to the chair seemed to tighten, and then you felt it – a whisper of a touch against the curve of your neck. It was impossibly soft, like the brush of a feather, but it sent a jolt of electricity racing down your spine, igniting every nerve it grazed.  

You clenched your teeth, eyes fluttering shut, fighting the small pitiful whimper building in your throat. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing your weakness – specifically, your erogenous zone, more like.

Tensing your muscles, your desperately tried to suppress your whimper as it clawed its way up your throat. But the second his voice crackled to life, sharp and sinister, that resolve began to crumble.  

“Interesting.” 

The single word dripped with dark amusement, and your eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. You stared at him, searching for answers in his glowing red eyes. Alastor grinned wider, basking in the silent panic flickering across your face.  

Before you could even process a single thought, you felt it again – that feather like touch, teasing just behind your ear. The cool, silky sensation slithered down the curve of your neck, and this time, there was no holding back the involuntary shudder that coursed through you. 

Your body betrayed you completely.  

As if the invisible binding loosened just enough, your lips were freed, but not in time to stop the soft, devastating moan that slipped past them. The sound hung in the air between you like a damning confession.  

“My, look at you,” Alastor purred, his voice a deep, honeyed tenor that sent a shiver of anticipation and want down your spine and penetrated into your core. Another caress – so gentle, so deliberate – skated across your hot, flushed skin. “Had I known this was all it took to get some peace and silence from you, I would have done it much sooner.” 

His words coiled around you, thick with smug satisfaction, as his eyes drank in the sight of your face contorting, torn between restraint and giving in to the sensations he was pulling from you.  

Summoning what little strength you had left, you glared at him through your lustful haze, the words, “fuck you,” barely managing to escape your trembling lips. The weak insult only seemed to heighten his amusement. His grin stretched wider, sharp teeth catching the dim light as he leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with twisted delight.  

“You claimed my power was useless,” he murmured, his voice suddenly cold, authoritative. “So, I suppose a demonstration is in order.” 

The way he loomed over you, despite sitting across from you with his gaze unyielding made you feel like a student caught misbehaving under the stern gaze of a teacher. His impassive expression only weighed in on your feelings of helplessness.  

“I’ll pass–ahhnn!” Your feeble attempt to reject him was cut off, morphing into desperate gasps as those silky tendrils glided lower. They traced a slow, torturous path down your chest, brushing against the sensitive tips of your nipples. Your breath hitched as you squirmed in the chair, thighs trembling in a vain attempt to close your legs as you were sure the evidence of your desire was staining the inner centre of your pants. 

“Now, now,” he crooned, his words laced with an almost affectionate mockery. “We’ve only just begun!” 

Alastor’s laughter was pure and unadulterated as he declared with a flourish, “Honestly, I want you to feel comfortable around me, my dear!” His voice rang out boisterously, and with a sharp snap of his fingers, that same invisible force pried your legs apart.  

You gasped, the air escaping you in ragged pants as the sensations assaulting your body intensified. The thick, musty air seemed to cling to your overheated skin, and every nerve felt as though it was ablaze, ignited by the unseen force caressing you. Your lips trembled as you bit down hard, trying – desperately – to stifle the moans bubbling up from deep within. Yet, your traitorous body, the slick heat pooling between your thighs, betrayed you in ways you could no longer control.  

The unforgiving hardness of the chair beneath you did nothing to ease the ache throbbing at your core. It only heightened your frustration. Somehow, despite the layers of fabric still clinging to your skin, this mysterious, phantom touch seemed to bypass everything – touching you as though you were stripped bare.  

Your nipples, painfully hardened, were being rubbed and pinched in ways that had your breath catching, your chest heaving as tears of desperation pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were perilously close to begging.  

“You see, my dear,” Alastor’s voice cut through the haze, mocking and sharp, “you must not fully grasp the extent of my power if you dare compare me to that lousy ‘picture box.’” He spat the words with a venomous disdain, his eyes narrowing. “Beg for my forgiveness, and perhaps I’ll show mercy.” His voice dipped into a low, dangerous whisper, dripping with dark intent.  

Your heart pounded in your ears, but something else caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw it – Alastor’s shadow, the one that had lurked behind him, was now slithering across the floor, positioning itself directly behind you. Its tendrils writhed, holding you firmly in place, while its grotesque grin loomed close, mirroring its master’s. The shadow’s presence was suffocating, overwhelming as its clawed hands slowly traced a path of pleasure down the front of your chest.  

“I…” You hesitated, trembling as those same spectral hands pinched your already sensitive nipples, somehow phasing through your clothes. Blood rushed to the tender tips, heightening your torment with drawn out pleasure. “I think – ah – it’s still pretty lame,” you challenged, arching a brow, your tongue flicking out to slowly trail along your lower lip, drawing Alastor’s attention.  

Alastor’s eyes darkened, pupils shrinking into narrow slits as he followed the motion of your tongue. His mouth twisted into a manic grin, and let out a wild, unhinged cackle. “I’ll never understand your generation’s needless stubbornness!” He declared, shaking his head in mock disbelief. 

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. The kitchen, the dim light – it all vanished. You were swallowed by darkness, an endless void that stretched in every direction. Yet, you remained seated in the same chair, surrounded by nothing. Your sight had been stolen from you, leaving you blind and disoriented.  

“Fascinating, wouldn’t you say?” Alastor’s voice rang out through the void, calm and calculated. You could feel his eyes on you, drinking in your every movement, like a predator waiting for its prey to make one wrong misstep.  

“Ah!” You yelped, body jerking as something – a sensation like fingers – began rubbing against the slick folds between your legs. Despite the barrier provided by your clothes, the touch was undeniable, intimate, and invasive. Your legs were spread wide, leaving you completely vulnerable to the unseen force now exploring the wetness pooling there. The soft, wet sound of your own arousal filled the surrounding silence, intensifying the humiliation as your body responded without hesitation. 

Quick, shallow breaths escaped your lips as you squirmed, trying to find some way to relieve the relentless teasing. Yet, all you could feel was that luxurious, maddening touch, dipping and teasing, tracing the sensitive thick folds. The darkness amplified everything – the wet sounds, the shuddering moans you couldn’t hold back, and the ache that radiated from your core.  

You whimpered softly, the desperation clear in every breath, every twitch of your body. You wanted more – needed more – your throbbing clit practically screaming for attention, while your cunt begged for release.  

But all you had was Alastor’s voice, echoing through the endless dark, and the maddening, torturous touch that refused to give you the satisfaction you so desperately craved.  

The same shadowy appendages rubbed and rubbed, smooth and relentless, dipping into you right at the entrance, gathering your slick before gliding against your inner folds again. Your thighs trembled as you were forced into a shameful display, and you couldn’t bear to think about what expression you wore for Alastor now. Your hips instinctively jerking to grind against the shadowy fingers teasing your wet folds.  

“You know what to say, dear,” Alastor’s voice slithered into your ear, a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. In the darkness, with your body immobile, every whisper, every breath, every slick sound of Alastor’s shadow playing you amplified your vulnerable and aroused state. The contrast between the cool darkness and the peculiar warm touch of his shadow heightened your awareness, pushing you closer to the edge.  

Hot tears began to trickle down your cheeks, mixing with the heat of your embarrassment as the shadow’s caress shifted from teasingly light to an almost punishing pressure. It demanded more from your greedy, slick heat. Abandoning any pretense of pride, you let out a desperate whimper. “Please, I-I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice trembling in the oppressive silence. Only your head and neck were free from the shadow’s hold, leaving you breathless and exposed.  

“I’m sorry for saying your shadow power was lame,” you gasped, and your words were rewarded with a sudden fullness, the thick, unyielding digit pushing deep inside you, curling against your sensitive skin.  

“Oh, my, look at you,” Alastor said, his voice tinged with mockery. “Such a pretty mess you’ve made. Who would have thought this would be your undoing?” 

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your head thrown back in surrender, grateful to whatever fucking deity was listening for finally filling the emptiness that pulsed within you. “Ah, more, please, more,” you whimpered, emboldened by the darkness, free from the weight of his gaze – though you could almost feel it, a predatory presence looming over you, delighting in your plight.  

A sudden tearing sound made you gasp; your pants ripped at the seam, a cool breeze kissing your exposed skin, intensifying the slick warmth pooling between your legs.  

“Look at you, dear. You’re absolutely drenched, soaked your underwear right through! Hah!” Alastor chuckled, his voice a disembodied tease, echoing all around you. You couldn’t tell where he was anymore – behind you, beside you, or perhaps he hadn’t moved at all, still watching with that insufferably bored expression, like a spectator at a dull weather report.  

“S-sorry,” you moaned, the undeniable squelch of your arousal filling the air, shame mingling with pleasure as whatever was touching you coaxed out your need. You strained to see, but the darkness was absolute, leaving you only to imagine those shadowy appendages moving in and out of your wet, sopping cunt – a hypnotic rhythm that drove you wild.  

It felt incredible – so impossibly good – as the dexterous finger-like tendrils curled and pressed all the right spots, drawing you closer and closer to the precipice. You clenched your abdomen, desperate for release, but then the motion halted abruptly. The loss of sensation was cruel, leaving you painfully aching, yearning for that delicious stretch, for the pull and push of your inner walls.  

“Now, now, don’t be greedy,” Alastor purred, his tone dripping with mockery. “Patience is a virtue, or haven’t you learned that yet?” 

A snap echoed in the room, and your vision flooded with light. Across from you, just as you expect, sat Alastor, his ever-present grin splitting his face. Legs crossed, he watched with amusement flickering in his eyes. “Ah, sight isn’t the only thing I can take away, my dear,” he mused, voice dripping with sinister glee.  

Your mouth was stretched wide, forced open, as his shadow lingered beside you, its hand plunged into your mouth. Its slick fingers pressed down on your tongue, holding it captive. Humiliation gnawed at you as drool leaked from the corners of your lips, a slow trickle that dripped down your chin. The warm saliva cooled quickly against your skin, but the undeniable feeling of shame mingling with the hot, burning desire of pleasure consumed you.  

When your gaze flicked downward, you caught the sight of Alastor’s shadow. Its fingers danced over your swollen clit, moving in tight, calculated circles. The delicate touch was maddening as you felt it was just short of pushing you closer to the peak.  

A helpless moan slipped out, muffled by the fingers lodged in your mouth. The more Alastor’s shadow played with you, the more fluids spilled, your lips trembling as saliva and arousal dripped from your needy body.  

Unexpectedly, the shadow’s fingers plunged inside your slick heat, driving deep with unrelenting force. Your eyelids fluttered shut as another guttural moan vibrated around the intruding fingers in your mouth. Your throat strained with each breath, the effort of swallowing excess saliva adding to your torment. The lewd, wet sounds of your body being claimed filled the air – each thrust squelching with a vulgar intensity that only heightened your spiralling, intense desire.  

Alastor’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure and submission. “Beg for forgiveness, my dear,” he crooned, his tone mocking yet lilting, as though he were offering you something. “And perhaps, I may allow you to finish.” 

Your body craved release, teetering on the brink of orgasm, but the shadow's fingers stuffed in your mouth made coherent words impossible. You struggled to form even a basic plea, but all that escaped your lips were garbled moans and desperate, incoherent sounds. Your abdomen clenched, desperate – so fucking desperate – to reach your peak, but your hips remained pinned, unable to find the friction they needed.  

Your eyes darted to Alastor in panic, pleading silently. His grin split through his cheeks, as though relishing in your helplessness. “Oh dear, it seems you don’t really want it after all,” he sighed with a mock expression of disappointment, his voice laced with dark amusement.  

A fresh wave of frustration swirling with anger and desperation ripped though you as you continued to teeter at the edge, unable to tumble over. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and soon they streamed down your face, joining the cooling drool that stained your chin. You moaned incoherently around the shadow’s fingers, your voice trembling with need.  

Alastor’s eyebrows raised, his tone exaggerated with surprise. “Well, aren’t you a lucky one? It just so happens I’m in quite a generous mood!” His tone continued its uplifting beat, matching his exterior joviality.  

As if on cue, the fingers left your mouth, but before you could gather your breath, you felt a tight pressure coil around your neck. It squeezed, slow and purposeful, cutting off your airflow inch by damning inch. Panic shot through you as you gagged for air, your pulse hammering in your ears. Alastor’s shadow grinned, its face looming beside yours as it continued to relentlessly fuck you with its fingers. They moved with vicious intent, plunging deep into your walls, hitting every sensitive spot, each stroke sending your body reeling.  

Your vision began to blur, dark spots forming at the edges as your head swam with lightheadedness. The air refused to fill your lungs, the tightness around your throat unbearable, until suddenly – release. A flood of oxygen rushed in to your body at the same time the shadow’s fingers curled deliciously inside you, pressing against your g-spot with merciless precision.  

The orgasm hit you like a crashing wave. A raw scream tore from your throat, mixing with sobs as pleasure washed over you in undulating waves. Your body convulsed, trembling uncontrollably as the shadow’s fingers never relented, still thrusting, still curling, keeping you locked in the agonizing cycle of ecstasy. 

“Ahhhh…fu-ahhhh!” You sobbed, the pleasure too much, too intense. Your clit throbbed painfully, swollen and oversensitive, and the shadow’s fingers began to slap at it – hard, wet slaps that sent sharp bursts of pain rippling through the pleasure. It was endless. The overwhelming sensation of being pushed beyond your limit clouded your thoughts, a jumble of pain, of pleasure, and of torment.  

“Aren’t I generous?” Alastor asked, his voice heavy with mockery. He watched your body writhed and twitch beneath his control. “Let’s see how many times I can make you break, hm?” 

The moment Alastor uttered his final words, his shadow’s fingers drove back into you – three of them this time – curling deep inside your weeping cunt. They moved fast, a blur of relentless thrusts that tore another orgasm from your exhausted body. You gasped for breath, the feeling being stretched and filled too much, your mind going blank from the overload.  

“A-ah, to-too much,” you managed to cry out, though your body remained stiff and unmoving, helpless against the hold Alastor’s shadow had on you. Your cunt clenched tightly around the dexterous fingers, your core pulsing as the shadow showed no mercy, working your sensitive spots with precision.  

And then – hot and wet – his shadow’s tongue trailed up the back of your ear, the same spot that had started it all. It licked and sucked at your skin, the obscene sounds filling your ears, mingling with the squelching from your dripping cunt. You could feel the puddle forming beneath you, the wetness between your legs soaking the seat. Your body trembled, your mind teetering on the brink as you felt yourself nearing the edge again.  

Just as the pressure built, a sharp pinch at your raw nipple jolted you, sending you hurtling into another orgasm. This time, no sound escaped you – your scream was swallowed by the force of the release. Your body convulsed, jerking with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you, until you were nothing more than a quivering, wet, mess.  

As the shadow’s grip loosened, your body collapsed forward, slumping against the cool tiles. The cold surface was a sharp contrast to the burning heat of your overstimulated skin. Your entire body continued to tremble, twitching from the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Your tongue lolled out as it took everything you had to continue to breathe despite the shameful display of drooling like a dog by Alastor’s feet.  

“Now then,” Alastor’s voice chimed in brightly, his polished shoes the only thing in your line of sight as he stood before you. “I do hope you’ll clean up after yourself. This may be a hotel, but our complimentary brunch is self-service, after all.” He laughed, a sound filled with genuine mirth, before his body melted into the shadows.  

The ends of your lips twitched upwards, your body still shivering as you felt the cool slide of your arousal dripping out from the apex of your thighs. You could still feel the lingering touch of his shadow still imprinted on your body.  

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

Nurse Alastor 💉♥️🩸

You're not exactly sure how it happend. One minute you were bringing Alastor a coffee while he did his radio show and the next you were on his broadcasting desk, legs thrown over His shoulders.

Your back arches as his tongue swirls around your bud, you're trying to be quiet, he's still on the air. The only thing keeping your little squeaks and moans from being heard is the commercial playing.

Your hands are in his hair pulling on the strands. His are clenching your thighs, keeping them spread open for him. You mouth falls open in a silent moan when he adds a finger, then two, and starts to fuck you with them as his tongue works magic on your cunt.

You moan his name, pulling on his hair making him moan against you. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and his glasses are sitting on top of his head.

When you got the job as his assistant weeks ago you never imagined he'd have you spread out on his broadcasting desk as he recorded his show. You honestly didn't even think he likes you. All he ever did was have you bring his coffee, always keeping your encounters short and professional. Over the weeks working for him you developed a slight crush on the older man, and now one of your fantasy's is playing out.

Alastor looks up at you as he eats you like a man starved. His hand slid up your body and squeezed your tit. You feel him smirk against you as you moan.

You start grinding your hips against him, chasing your own pleasure. He moans against you as he lets you take over.

He adds a third finger, curling them just right, hitting places you never could reach on your own. The room is hot and The commercials are almost over, he has to continue his show soon.

He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his tongue, his tongue coming up and rubbing circles on your clit. He does this for a few moments before switching back. He's biting, licking, and kissing anywhere he can reach.

You're about to cum when he pulls away and shoves his hand over your mouth, silencing you. He sits up and you see him lick his lips and he presses a button and starts talking into his microphone.

It all sounds like static to you. Your so fucked out, all you can think about is cumming. He continues to talk as you feel his fingers start to thrust into you again.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He has a smirk on his face as he counties to fuck you with his fingers and he's talking about the recent killings in town.

Before long you feel the heat of his mouth on you again. You hear another commercial, and he pulls his hand away from your mouth. He chuckles as you moan out his name.

You scream out his name as you cum all over his tongue and fingers. Crying out when he keeps going. He chuckles as you slap at his head for him to stop.

He looks up at you, sticking his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean. He helps you off the desk and fixes your clothes. He fixes his hair and glasses.

He winks at you as you walk to the door and you notice him readjusting his pants before closing The door behind you.

Day 03

Day 01

Sorry, this one is a little shorter and a day late. Something came up yesterday, and I didn't have time to post.

"He likes to be alone, he avoids everyone..."

But he keeps two armchairs at his room, like he was waiting for a nice talk. About music, cooking a good gumbo or about old times. This part of his room makes me feel he feels more alone than we think.

I honestly feel like he really does feel alone most of the time but because of his reputation, he ignores it and puts on the facade that everything is fine, but in his room is when he feels most alone, but he doesn't know how to explain it to anyone. Maybe he thinks that loneliness is a characteristic of the weak. He does not allow himself to show vulnerability, just as he equips himself with a smile as a tool.

Sure he likes to be alone sometimes. But... he's a showman after all, he needs public and... friends, I guess.

He also more likely since he died hasn't had real friends like the ones at the hotel. Outside of Rosie and Niffty, I feel he hasn't really had anyone he could depend on. It feels like those two are the only ones who seem to genuinely care and partake in being active members of his afterlife(?) now. Mimzy could count but she has too many hang-ups.

This isn’t trying to excuse like, the obvious things he’s done, but it’s more so just a look at a side of him most folks don’t see.

reflection

HOT DAMN!!! The last line!! 🫠 is it terrible that I’d let this man eat me alive? This is 🤌🤌

Laughter and the warm, heady aroma of rich Cajun spices twirled in the air, wrapping around your senses like a comforting blanket on a crisp Louisiana evening. The slight dip in temperature heralded the arrival of autumn, a season that changed the vibrant landscape into a tapestry of oranges and red. Through the dusty window of Alastor’s cottage, a stark red light from the setting sun streamed in, illuminating the man himself: tall and lanky, with slightly curled brown hair that danced around his ears, and warm brown eyes that sparkled with mischief.  

“My love,” he said, stepping closer, his voice thick as honey and just as sweet. “I must say, I am absolutely ecstatic that you finally decided to join me this time.” 

His proximity stirred a mix of emotion within you, and you wrinkled your nose as a heavy metallic tang pierced the air – a scent so out of place amidst the inviting spices and laughter.  

With a playful smile mirroring his, you leaned in, feigning innocence as you whispered, “You know, it’s a bit challenging to ignore that…unusual bouquet you’ve got going on. What’s that, a new cologne?” 

Alastor chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. “Ah, that would be my secret ingredient,” he teased, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly grin. “I’ve always had a penchant for the hunting arts, you see. A little blood adds flavour, don’t you think?” 

You pushed aside the insidious whisper in your mind that noted how this man always seemed to carry an undercurrent of something dark and unsettling beneath his expensive cologne. You glanced over the pile of vibrant, red, raw meat on the counter – a testament to his hunting prowess.  

The meat gleamed under the soft glow of the cottage’s flickering light, an odd sight during these trying times of the Great Depression. But then again, Alastor was a popular radio host, and with fame came a certain indulgence in life’s luxuries.  

“Luxuries indeed,” you murmured under your breath.  

Suddenly, warm hands framed your face, pulling your gaze into the depths of Alastor’s whisky-brown eyes. His devilish, charming smile ignited a warmth in your heart that spread like a wildfire. At that moment, you were captivated by a man you knew you were forbidden to love.  

He was a man whose world was miles apart from your own.  

Yet… 

Yet, here you were, hidden among the thick, twisting trees of the bayou, far from prying eyes. Here, perhaps, the love that others labelled as deranged might find a place to breathe freely.  

Looking at him, a weight of guilt squeezed your heart. "I’m sorry I kept cancelling at the last minute, Alastor, I –" you began, your voice trembling with the heavy, suffocating shroud of unspoken truths. But before you could finish, his gentle finger pressed against your lips, absolving of your crime of almost abandoning him.  

“It’s quite alright, my dear,” he replied, his voice smooth like dark chocolate, rich, thick, and silky.  

Your words of further apologies were lodged inside your throat. No matter what you said to him next, it wouldn’t change the truth of your current situation.  

You and him had different social standings, but moreover, there was the looming shadow of your engagement to another man, the one your parents had chosen for you. The one who was, by all appearances, a good match, a respectable future governor.  

“Let’s just enjoy this moment, just the two of us, darling,” he said, his voice resonating like the warmest notes of a jazz melody. He was truly born to be a radio host, whose words could make even the most stoic hearts flutter – if only they could overlook the darker undertone of his physical attributes.  

Reaching up, you clasped your hand around his, pressing your cheek against the warmth of his inviting palm. It felt like a small rebelling against the world, against your parents, a taste of freedom, a taste of love you longed for – hungeredfor.  

“Okay,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of the bayou mingling with the intoxicating scent of the sharpness of his cologne. You exhaled slowly, releasing the anxiety and guilt that once clung heavily to your heart.  

Just for this moment, you wished to forget about propriety and the expectations of being the perfect wife-to-be. Just for this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be with Alastor, the man who adored you with all his heart, just as you adored him in return.  

“Now,” he said, slipping his hand away from your face and spinning back to the pile of bleeding, red meat. “I’ll handle this, and if you could be so kind as to peel the potatoes, my darling!” His voice was chipper and jovial, a perfect contrast to the weighty atmosphere that usually surrounded you. You watched in admiration as he wielded the knife with a master that only came from years of experience – his fingers moved with precision and confidence.  

Humming in agreement, you reluctantly turned your attention to the bowl of potatoes. Picking one up, you grasped a small knife, its blade glinting under the softer light. You began to peel the rough skin away while suppressing a giggle as you recalled telling Alastor that you’d never been taught how to cook. Alastor had looked at you as if you grew a second head back then.  

But, you had never told Alastor why you weren’t taught how to cook like other proper homemakers. After all, your sole purpose was to be given away like a prized horse to an affluent man. Your only duties were to remain beautiful in his arms and bear his children.  

You quickly pushed away the bitter feelings that crept up your throat and stung your nose. Instead, you focused on the memory of Alastor being shocked at your admission. “We simply cannot have that! I shall schedule us a date where I can track you my favourite recipe – my mother’s jambalaya!” He had said with his eyes twinkling with glee.  

The soft humming of a tune brought you back to the present moment, the sweet melody from Alastor floated through the air. You lost yourself in the rhythmic task of peeling the potatoes, focused on the repetitive motion of the knife gliding through the skin.  

But then, in a moment of distraction, your clumsy fingers slipped. The sharp edge of the knife sliced through your delicate skin with a sudden sting. “Ah!” You yelped, instinctively pulling your hand away as searing pain bloomed from the cut.  

Crimson rivulets flowed quickly down your fingers, staining the pristine white flesh of the potato. Food was a scarce luxury in these times, and you hated the thought of wasting it so carelessly. "I’m so-" you began, but the words faltered as you felt a wave of dizziness washed over you. Seeing blood had always made you feel a bit queasy.  

Alastor turned sharply, concern etching itself into his features. “What happened?” He asked, rushing to your side, the joviality of moments before replaced by urgency.  

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, though the pain pushed with every heartbeat. “Just a little cut.” 

He took your hand gently in his, his warmth enveloping you like a balm against the pain. “Let me see,” he said softly, his voice dropping to a soothing tone, lulling you into a state of momentarily calm.  

“Oh, my!” Alastor’s voice purred, his grin wide, yet his brow furrowed in playful concern. “My little clumsy girl, whatever will I do with you?” He sighed in an exaggerated tone, a mix of teasing and amusement lacing his words.  

You rolled your eyes, exasperated but endeared by his over-the-top theatrics. "Yes, yes, Alastor. I’m quite clumsy. As I’ve told you many times, I’m not exactly well-versed in the art of cooking–" 

Your sentence was cut short by a sharp intake of breath as his hand closed around your wrist, his grip firm but tender. He pulled your injured finger closer to his face. The suddenness of the touch sent a spark of warmth coursing through you, igniting a flush that spread across your skin.  

His eyes darkened, pupils dilated, as he inspected the cut with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Quite a deep cut, indeed,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though the sight of your blood stirred something primal within him. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and the heat of the moment hung thickly in the air between you.   

“Alastor?” You whispered, your voice barely audible, the weight of his attention making it difficult to speak. He had never touched you like this before; usually, it was your hand that sought him, your fingertips that brushed his arm with hesitant affection. This shift in dynamic left you breathless.  

With a slow, deliberate exhale, he pressed your injured finger against his lips. The warmth of his mouth ignited a dizzying mix of sensations. The pain from the cut flared briefly, but was soon overshadowed by the soft pressure of his lips, the tender heat of his breath against your skin. His lips moved, painting themselves crimson with your blood, and your heart raced, overwhelmed by the strange intimacy of it.  

His eyes never left yours as he hummed softly, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through you. His tongue, warm and wet, traced the length of your finger, slow and deliberate, as though savouring every inch of your skin. The soft sounds of his mouth moving over your finger filled the small kitchen, a rhythm that seemed to match the rapid pounding of your heart.  

You gasped when he gently took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling wickedly around it with a slow, languid grace. The mixture of pain and pleasure was dizzying, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the sigh of him – devouring your finger, alternating between soft, gentle sucks and firmer, more insistent strokes. The sensation was maddening, leaving you teetering between the sharp edge of discomfort and the intoxicating allure of his touch.  

Every flick of his tongue, every caress of his lips, seemed designed to unravel you, to make you surrender to the moment. The air between you crackled with unspoken desire, the heat of it enveloping you both, drawing you into a world where status, propriety, expectations all dissolved into nothingness.  

Nothing mattered but the press of his lips, the warmth of his breath, and the undeniable pull that connected you.  

Heat rushed to your cheeks, an overwhelming warmth that left your skin tingling as you watched the once-proper man before you indulged in something so…raw. His moans, barely audible, danced with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth working over your finger. His thick dark lashes brushed against his tanned skin, his expression serene, almost lost in the act. 

“Alastor…” Your voice cracked, surprise and something else – something unfamiliar – swirling low in your stomach, tightening with each passing second. You shouldn’t be feeling this. The intimacy of it was unexpected, almost forbidden, and yet…you couldn’t pull away.  

His eyes snapped open upon hearing your voice, piercing through the haze that had settled over your thoughts. Your finger was still between his lips, slick with warmth. His eyes arrested you as he let your finger slowly slide out of him, agonizingly slow, the wet trail glistening under the flickering amber lights in the kitchen. His hand lingered on your wrist, gentle but firm, holding you there as his gaze traced every detail of your face.  

The familiar grin curled at the corners of his mouth, the same charming showman’s smile you had fallen for, back when you were just another listener entranced by his voice on the radio. But here, now, something was different – darker, more…animalistic. A sense of danger, maybe, or hunger.  

You swallowed, your thoughts in disarray, but you forced yourself to speak, breaking the tension. “I thought we were supposed to be cooking, but…” you paused, feeling the heavy weight of his stare, the heat of his presence. “It looks like you’re ready to devour me instead,” you chuckled, the sound weak, betraying the nervous energy thrumming through you. 

Alastor remained silent, his grin frozen in place as his eyes darkened to near black, absorbing every flicker of light in the room. There was something unsettling about his stillness, the way his expression didn’t quite match the energy that pulsed between you.  

And then, in a voice that barely rose above a whisper – smooth, low, and stripped of the transatlantic accent you were used to – he answered.  

“Perhaps I will.”   

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

hi im bitter about people not commenting on fics. im sad seeing all these authors get so discouraged because no one comments. it takes like 5 seconds! just do it!! dont know what to type? me neither! heres some handy pre-written comments for you! “I dont know what to comment! That was great! thank you for your hard work!” “That was lovely! I really enjoyed this chapter/fic.” “How dare you?” “AAAAAAAAAAAAA” “Extra kudos because one is not enough!” if you read a fic and dont know what to say, leave the tab open, come back later! see if theres a line you really liked! tell them if it reminded you of something dumb! tell them if your roommate saw you crying while reading it and now your roommate is reading it!!! SHARE WHATEVER. BE INCLUSIVE! everyone wants to hear SOMETHING. silence kills passion. show authors you care! show artists you care!!!! 

It's been a while since i draw this mf, so here you go ❤️

Code Red

Soooo I finally did the thing and wrote my first ever fic! Hope you enjoy, please let me know your thoughts!

TW: menstrual cycles, fertility issues, swearing, baby fever, blood, no smut

Alastor x reader

Shitshitshitshitshit-

You glare down at the bathroom sink, chewing on your bottom lip.

What are you going to do? What the FUCK are you going to do?! What is Alastor going to do when he finds out?

You run a hand through your hair and huff. It was late October, the end of Alastor’s rut. The last month was a blur- a whirlwind of passion, lust, and mind blowing orgasms. It was your first rut with Alastor and you were NOT prepared for the behavioral changes that overtook the usually stoic demon. For the past month Alastor smothered you in affection, barely allowing you to leave the bed. He made your meals(going as far as hand-feeding you), massaged your entire body, and whispered the sweetest words of love and devotion into your ears. He did it all for one singular, IMPOSSIBLE goal.

“You’re going to make me the strongest fawns.”

It was impossible for sinners to procreate. But Alastor’s rut-addled brain refused to acknowledge that fact. Getting you pregnant was all the man talked about since his rut began. You had just gone along with it, it was honestly sweet the way he described what raising a child with you would be like. You just had to play it cool and wait for the demon’s mind to return to normal.

But now your entire plan just got derailed, your own body turned against you at the worst time. You had gotten your period.

ALL it had to do was wait just a few more days! Alastor’s rut would be over and you could go back to life as normal. But no-this was hell after all and everything was designed with ultimate suffering in mind.

So now you had to come up with a plan. If rut-Alastor found out you were menstruating he would certainly lose his shit. There was no chance that you could avoid sex, that would immediately make him suspicious. Using a tampon was out of the question, he’d find that way too easily. Your options were limited, the only idiotic thing you could come up with was stuffing an old washcloth between your legs like some poor, medieval woman and chucking it under the bed before he could notice. As for the blood, maybe you play that off due to his relentless sex drive-

*knock knock knock*

“Darling, are you quite alright? I’m beginning to fear you may have been sucked down the pipe HAHA!”

Shit- you’re out of time. Medieval blood rag it is then. “S-sorry! I’ll be right out!”

The moment you emerged from the bathroom you were pinned to the wall; Alastor used his arms to cage you in against his chest. He bent down to bury his nose into your hair, breathing your scent in. A deep rumble vibrated through his chest sending a shiver up your spine as he began rubbing his cheeks from your chin to your temple; his scent causing your knees to shake, you had almost completely forgotten the rag you were hiding under your thin nightgown.

You stiffened when he moved to walk you back to the bed, squeezing your thighs together to keep the cloth in place. Thankfully he sat you down on the edge and moved behind you so he could rub the knots out of your back and shoulders.

“My poor doe, what has you so tense?”

“Tense? I’m not tense, why would I be tense?” Smooth. Hiding things was really never your forte.

“You really ought to work on your poker face Cher, but you’ll never be able to hide things from me regardless. Now what is it?”He stops his ministrations and grips your shoulders, angling you to the side as he looks at you over your shoulder.

You sit there gaping at him like a fish, warring with yourself over if you should just come clean. You knew what he wanted wasn’t even possible, but you still felt like you were letting him down. You didn’t want to face his disappointment at the news.

“Darling, please just tell me what’s the matter. If it’s anything within my power to fix you know I’ll do just that. Come now, this stress isn’t good for the fawn.”, Alastor replied as he rested a palm on your lower stomach making you jump up as if it burned.

“I got my period!” You unceremoniously blurted, face going tomato red.

One moment turned to two then to a dozen as you and Alastor stared at each other. You finally had to expel the breath you didn’t even know you were holding, your whole body deflating.

“You…are menstruating?”, he finally broke the deafening silence.

“Yea, it just started today.” You watched as he slumped over, elbows on his knees, eyes staring down at the floor. “How…? What did I do wrong?”

Your heart shattered and you surged forward, kneeling in front of him and lifting his head in your hands so he had to look at you. “You did NOTHING wrong my love! I know you are in rut, and your brain is telling you that a child is what you want but it’s just not possible dearest. I was hoping that my period would wait until after your rut, I’m so sorry.” You pulled him fully into your embrace, one arm locked firmly around his back and the other scratching lightly at his undercut your forehead resting against his. “Even though a child is not in our future- I love you more than there are stars in a night sky.”

Alastor hummed and wrapped his arms around your waist, “And I love you more than the brightest smile could convey. Apologies my dear, it seems my first rut spent with my mate altered my brain chemistry a tad more than I expected. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

You giggled and gently peppered his face in kisses, “No worries hun, it was honestly kind of sweet.” He let out a scoff “Darling, need I remind you that I am The Radio Demon? Why I hardly believe sweet is in my vocabulary!”

“Ah, there you are Al! Feeling better?” You give him a smirk before pressing your lips to his. “Much, thank you! Now, as much as I’d love to get back to my work…” he maneuvered you to sit across his lap “I suppose I can wait just a bit longer in order to show you my sincerest gratitude for your company this month.”

As if on cue- this is hell after all- the damn rag fell to the floor due to your sudden change of position. You’d forgotten you even had it! Alastor glanced down at the red-smeared cloth and then back at your mortified face with a raised brow.

“You know what? I’m not even going to dignify this with an explanation. Let me go get a proper feminine hygiene product and I’ll be right back!” Alastor chuckled but let you up. Before you made it to the door he spoke “Oh Darling? Do take your sanitary apron with you!”

You barely had time to turn around before the bloody cloth hit your chest. You childishly flipped him off, earning another chuckle, before closing the door. Next year you are so asking Charlie for birth control pills to skip your period.

A dimly lit room filled with various trinkets and oddities. Alastor, the Radio Demon, lounges casually, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as Reader stands nearby, exasperated. Alastor: tapping a finger against his chin Oh, how positively dull this room is, wouldn’t you agree? Almost like a graveyard… without the charm! Reader: crossing arms Seriously, Alastor. Can you tone down the chaos for just one minute? We need to find- Alastor: laughing heartily Tone it down? Sweetheart, chaos is my middle name! Right after my first one: R-A-D-I-O! Reader: sighs I have a feeling your middle name is actually “nuisance.” Alastor: leaning in closer, eyes glinting And you love it! Admit it! Who else could turn this mundane existence into an unpredictable rollercoaster of delightful madness? Reader: rolling eyes I’m not sure “delightful” is the word I’d use while dodging your chaotic pranks. Alastor: twirling a finger in the air Oh, come now! Just a little fun to spice up your life! What’s a little mayhem between friends? Reader: raising an eyebrow Friends? Is that what we’re calling this? Alastor: winking Oh, darling, let’s not play coy! You know I’m your favorite disaster waiting to happen! Reader: smirking despite oneself Maybe… but I’m still not cleaning up after your latest mess. Alastor: with exaggerated offense Mess? Me? I prefer to think of it as “artistic expression!” Now, shall we provoke some mayhem together? Reader: groaning I regret every time I said yes to you…

he’s trying so hard to resist

part 2/3 from “Of Saints and Sinners” by @morningstarwrites

You’ve been spending a lot of time with Alastor lately. Though he’s undeniably... quirky and unique, you’re starting to realize he isn’t as bad as he makes himself out to be. On this quiet evening, with his radio softly playing jazz in the background, you steal a glance at him as he reads his book. A thought crosses your mind then—you can’t remember the last time you gave him any kind words or words of affirmation.

Y/N: Alastor, I want you to know that I like you, flaws and all.

Alastor: What flaws?

Y/N: ...

Alastor: ...

Y/N: Y-you can't seriously think that you're perfect. Do you?

Alastor: My dear, when God created me-

Y/N: Noooo, not this joke again-!

Alastor: God said, such great, much perfection.

You recently started showing Alastor some memes, and it was almost cute how he tried to work them into his daily conversations just for you. However, now you're certain he's using them excessively, almost as if he's trying to make sure you never show him another meme again.

I know the doge meme is old, but damn, I love that meme. Don't kill it! Please. Such wow 😭

Ok but WHY does Alastor need to lean over the desk so seductively 😆 I LOVE IT!

“I recall a certain somebody asking to see my tail. Or do you no longer wish to see it?”

Part 1/3 from Ch. 34 of “Of Saints and Sinners” by our lord and savior @morningstarwrites

"I love you, Alastor."

He had heard those words countless times before, both in life and in Hell. They always felt hollow, like faint echoes fading into the vast emptiness of his heart. They stirred nothing in him, only a slight annoyance. Love was a strange concept, distant and incomprehensible, never something he had the desire to explore. It wasn’t meant for him. In life, he had seen how love weakened men, made them foolish and dependent. In Hell, it was no different—just an illusion that led others to ruin, betrayal, and despair. He, on the other hand, had always stood on the sidelines, watching with a mix of amusement and disdain as souls fell prey to that emotion.

He had never felt the need to return those words. Why would he? Love was a slow poison, corroding from within, and he had neither the time nor the interest in experiencing such a fragile state. Watching others crumble under its weight was enough for him. He, always the calculated, always the distant, stayed in control.

But with you… it wasn’t that simple.

At first, he brushed it off. Not because he didn’t feel something, but because he wasn’t willing to acknowledge it. That unsettling knot tightening inside him whenever he saw you confused him in ways he hadn’t experienced in decades—perhaps ever. Curiosity? No, it was more than that. It was an intrusion into his mind, a weight he carried with him, refusing to let go. From the shadows, he watched you like a predator, calculated and cautious, trying to understand what it was about you that pulled him in. You moved through life, innocent, carefree, unaware of the eyes following you with an intensity even he couldn’t quite grasp.

Ninety-one years. He had spent so long in Hell, playing his part, pulling strings as others danced to his tune. He manipulated, controlled, always keeping a safe distance, emotionally fortified against everything. No one had ever touched him. No one had made him question himself. Until now.

He watched you with a tight smile, that carefully crafted mask of politeness he used to hide what he truly felt. But inside, there was a storm. What had begun as passing interest had grown into something far more complicated, something deeper, something terrifying. You had done what no one in ninety-one years had managed—you had pierced the armor that kept him immune. And he… didn’t know how to handle it.

He had tried. He tried with all his might to bury that feeling deep within him, down in that dark abyss where he stashed everything he refused to face. But you had seeped into every corner of his mind, filling the empty spaces, making indifference impossible. You had become his obsession, his weakness, and admitting that made him furious. He had never allowed himself to feel something so… human. And now, here he was, standing before you, feeling a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t control.

Those words, the ones he had heard from desperate, trembling lips so many times before, now burned inside him. "I love you." He had heard them before, hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He had always ignored them or mocked them. But now, those very words were tearing him apart.

"I love you."

His voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in his chest like a haunting refrain. The phrase slipped from his lips without his consent, as though they had been waiting for years to be spoken. And though he maintained his usual smile, that polished mask of elegance and charm, something in his eyes betrayed the truth—the turmoil raging inside him. Vulnerability. Pain. Fear. And worst of all… need.

In that moment, he looked at you with a gaze so intense it was almost unbearable, as if by staring he could somehow make sense of everything he was feeling. But there was no logic to it. His entire existence, both on Earth and in Hell, had been a dance of control, where every move was calculated with precision. Now, he stood on the edge of a precipice, and the thought of falling terrified him.

He was afraid. Not of love itself, but of what it meant. Of the vulnerability it forced upon him. For years, he had remained detached, viewing love as a weakness, something others suffered from, never him. He was the manipulator, the one who controlled the emotions of others. But now, he found himself ensnared in his own web, exposed in a way he had never been before.

He didn’t know what to expect from you. He didn’t know if those words would change anything, if you would understand them as he now did. But one thing was certain, with a clarity so sharp it nearly tore him apart—you had become his only constant. And that thought, that terrifying, overwhelming thought, was shattering him.

Ninety-one years in Hell, and only now, looking at you, feeling you so close and yet so far, did he understand what love meant. For the first time, he had found something that could truly destroy him.

And that… terrified him more than eternity itself.

This is seriously a fact 👌

Radio Booth Nuisance ~ Alastor x Reader

In which >>> You decide to break one of the Radio Demon’s rules and get punished accordingly….

Warnings: Smut, AFAB Reader, Dub-Con??

1.3k Words. Lots and Lots of Smut. Bratty Reader. I literally only write Alastor Smut…why? THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP- Enjoy!

Don't go into Alastor's studio if he's on air, it was that simple. Yet, for some reason it was exhilarating to taunt and tease him. You knew he would usually tear apart anyone who would dare interrupt him…but you decided to try it anyway.

"I'm afraid I'm busy!" You hear Alastor holler from beyond the door, the superficial kindness in his tone was obvious. He hates it when people interrupt his work. You feel an odd nervous giddiness going through yourself at the prospect of opening this door. With a sharp intake of breath, you swing open the door and close it softly behind yourself. Though behind him you can see Alastor pinch the space between his eyebrows with an annoyed smile. His chair slowly turns to face you.

"What is it you need, dear?" Alastor asks, adjusting one of the knobs on the recording equipment in front of him to quiet it. His annoyed smile was evident. “Nothing.” You giggle as you run out of the booth. With the thrill of interrupting the Radio Demon, you quickly ran as far away from his recording studio as you could, a smile plastered on your face.

After the broadcast is over, Alastor leans back in his chair and stretches, his joints popping loudly. He gets up and exits the booth, finding you leaning against the wall in the lobby, a mischievous grin on your face. "You little..." He carries off. Alastor's eyes narrow slightly as he approaches you, his hands resting on his hips. "You're smiling like a cat who got the cream." He reaches out and gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "What are you plotting, hmm?" He looks pissed. 

“Nothing.” You say a little too quickly for your own good. Alastor definitely knew you were lying now.

​​Alastor's grip on your chin tightens slightly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "Liar." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "You know, payback's a dish best served cold. But I'm feeling quite warm right now..." He smiles, clearly planning something vile and malevolent. “And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Radio Demon!?” You say sarcastically.

Alastor's eyes gleam with amusement as he smiles, his breath warm against your face. "It means, darling, that I've had just about enough of your teasing and interruptions." He reaches out and grabs you, pulling you into a nearby closet. The closet is dimly lit and filled with old records and props. Alastor backs you up against the wall, his hands on either side of your head. "Now, where were we?" He leans in close, his voice a low rumble. "Oh yes, payback."

​​Alastor's hands slowly trail down your sides, his touch gentle yet firm. He leans in and presses his lips to your neck, planting soft kisses and gentle nips. His hands continue to roam, slowly unbuttoning your shirt. "You're playing with fire, you know," He says, his voice almost a whisper, as he leans close to your ear. His free hand reaches up to your face, tracing your jawline with his thumb before tilting your head back. "Oh, I know." You smirk. He leans in and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth.

Alastor's hands continue to wander, caressing your chest and abs before they reach the waistband of your pants. He looks at you with a hungry expression, his eyes filled with desire. "I think it's time for some punishment, don't you?" You nod. Your heart racing with excitement and nerves. Alastor's hands quickly work to undo your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear. "Good Girl." He praises, his voice low and husky. "Now, let's see how well you can take your punishment." He asserts.

Alastor smirks and unzips his own pants, freeing himself. He lifts you up and presses you against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs. He leans in close, his lips brushing against yours. "Hang on tight." He whispers.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Alastor enters you. He grins wickedly as you gasp and bury your face in his neck. "Shh, we wouldn't want anyone to hear us, now would we?" He starts to move, his hips thrusting slowly and deliberately. You cover your mouth. "Good." he praises as you stifle a moan. "Remember, the more noise you make, the longer this lasts."

Alastor's pace quickens, his breathing becoming heavier as he tries to suppress his own moans. "Alastor... please..." you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to hold back your sounds. Alastor's eyes flash with amusement as he continues to move, his thrusts becoming more powerful. "Please what?" he growls, his voice laced with desire. "Please stop? Or please keep going?"  He leans in and bites your earlobe gently.

“K-keep going.” You huff, out of breath. "Mmm, good choice." Alastor's voice is low and sultry. “But it seems as though you’ve earned yourself a new punishment...” He leans in and whispers into your ear what your punishment was. "Let's hope you can handle it.”

“What?” You ask. "You'll have to keep quiet for the rest of the night, no matter what I do to you. And if you make even the slightest sound, I'll add an extra hour to our…’quiet time’… in the morning." He punctuates his threat with a particularly deep thrust, making you gasp silently. “F-fine~.” You moan. Alastor smirks, pleased with your submission. "Excellent." He continues to move, his thrusts becoming even more forceful and precise. He reaches down and covers your mouth with his hand, silencing any sounds you might make. "Remember, not a peep." He threatens. 

Alastor's movements become faster and harder, his own self-control slipping. He bites his lip to keep from making any noise, his eyes locked onto yours. He knows you're close, and he wants to watch you fall apart silently. "Eyes on me." he growls softly. You lock eyes with Alastor, your breath hitching as you struggle to stay quiet. Your body tenses, your fingers digging into his back as you reach the brink. Alastor's hand tightens over your mouth, muffling any sounds.

Your body tenses as you reach the edge, your eyes fluttering closed. Alastor's hand tightens over your mouth, his other arm wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. "No, look at me." he commands, his voice barely a whisper. "I want to see you." Your eyes fly open, meeting his as the waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body convulses silently, your eyes welling up with tears as you try desperately to stay quiet. Alastor's hand muffles your soft moan, his body tensing as he finds his own release. Alastor buries his face in your neck, his body shuddering as he comes down from his high. He keeps his hand over your mouth, his body still inside yours. "Good girl." he praises softly, his voice ragged. "You did so well." He praises. He carefully sets you down on your unsteady feet, keeping an arm around your waist to stabilize you. He leans in and kisses you gently, his touch tender and loving. "You may speak now." He smiles softly, his eyes filled with affection. "But only if you want to."

“Alastor…I think I'm in love with you.” Alastor freezes, his eyes widening slightly. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, it's a good thing." he says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I know I’m in love with you.” Alastor's smile widens as you pull him close, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He kisses you back passionately, pouring all his love and devotion into it. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his red eyes shining. "I'm yours. Forever. For the rest of our afterlives.”

"And I’m yours.” You say. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you close. “Let’s go to bed, my love. We have all the time in the world now." Alastor carries you to the bedroom, his heart full of joy and love. He gently lays you down on the bed, climbing in beside you and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you close, feeling your warmth and presence, and finally allows himself to relax, feeling completely content and at peace.

4’11 and 3 quarters 😬😬

You were frustrated from dealing with Angel Dust's antics all morning, you sought out Alastor's wisdom in a moment of weakness.

Y/N: Alastor?

Alastor: Yes, my dear?

Y/N: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Alastor: How tall are you?

Y/N: ...

Y/N: Yeah, I can't even get mad. I walked into that one.

❤️‍🩹📻🍎

The point went right over our head but can you really blame us when red is such a pretty color?

Charlie: Alright, everyone! Today we're going to talk about what we would like to work on ourselves! Yay! Self-improvement! Do you want to go first, Y/N?

Y/N: [Looks at Alastor] Sure. I see the red flags, I acknowledge that they're there, and then I completely ignore them. I have no plans in the foreseeable future to ever change.

Alastor: [Tilts his head in confusion. He did not understand a single word that came out of your mouth]

Vaggie: What?

Angel Dust: Hot.

Charlie: Th-that's great! Though I think you may have missed the mark by just a tiiinnny bit.

Alastor: Well, the first step of acceptance is acknowledgement. So good job!

Angel Dust: He's being totally sarcas-

Y/N: Yes, I know, thank you.

😂 I can just imagine him poking at it like it’ll explode in his hand

Modern!Reader x Alastor Headcanons | Third Place Giveaway Winner

This is very funny to me. Alastor dating or befriending someone who's more similar to Vox to say the least than him when it comes to...technological advancements

CW: none, just some bickering between what could be seen as an old married couple

It's a little hard for almost everyone to tell, but you and Alastor are close

I say it's hard to tell because you two are constantly throwing jabs at each other and honestly, it couldn't be helped

He was just so...old

Everything about his habits and interests were outdated and Alastor wasn't the type to do his own thing quietly 

There's always a comment, a sideways glance, a light scoff which leads to,

"Don't be upset because you don't know how to use a cellphone."

"Me? Upset over such a device? You confuse me with someone else, dear."

"I don't think I am. What'd you have again? Messenger birds?"

"Very funny."

You would simply chuckle at Alastor for the most part. You've heard it all before, your love and talent did lead to you VoxTech for a bit of your afterlife, but you didn't stay.

You found it more enjoy using what you know to help Charlie with her cause.

You were a helpful person in your own way. It was the only reason you kept trying to introduce Alastor to some form of modern tech. 

"I can make you the simplest most basic cellphone Hell has ever seen. Only phone calls and texting--"

"You lost me."

"--Only phone calls and we'll get to the rest eventually?"

"No."

You'd groan out, "even Lucifer has a cellphone! He's older than you!"

"Was that supposed to help you convince me?"

"...You're such a loser."

You have special nicknames for Alastor when you feel like picking with him. 

Old Allie

Old Man Red

Ye Old Alastor

Arthritis Strawberry

Alastor: Great Gatsby Edition

He hates all of them, of course, and that's why you love them

Alastor is completely uninterested in what you do. His focus is just more on your talent and passion than what you're making

You argue that what you're making is your passion so he should show a little interest

This would lead to a breakthrough!

"Only for phone calls."

"Right."

"Don't add anything else."

"Mhm."

"______. I mean it."

"Don't go using that scary tone with me, mister. I'm your friend, so trust me!"

It took all your willpower to not add anything extreme to the, in your opinion, useless cellphone. Phone calls only, just as promised. You knew Alastor agreed to shut you up, but you were still satisfied with your win

That's why you were very surprised when you got a call from him and you knew he wasn't in the hotel. You of course told everyone who would listen (AKA everyone in the hotel)

You yourself were always on the move and it made you happy that the chance to hear Alastor while you were both away was significantly higher (he lowkey hates the thing, so he doesn't always answer)

After a while, like a lot of elderly, Alastor would just straight up not take the phone with him.

"Al."

"Yes, my dear?"

"The point of a cellphone. You get it, yeah?"

A roll of the eyes

"Al."

"I still use the thing."

"You leave it in the hotel!"

"I forget it here and there."

"You can't tell me you're not someone's fuckin' grandfather with that lame excuse. At this rate, I'm gonna glue the phone to you."

Honestly, he kept it on him for almost two months. You expected to be having this conversation sooner.

After nagging him for a few days, Alastor made sure not to "forget" the cellphone anymore, much to his annoyance. He, of course, couldn't be seen with the thing, so it was just easier to leave it at the hotel

Two more weeks in, and Alastor would definitely be thinking of ways for this device to get in an unfortunate accident, if you will

While fiddling with the damned thing one night, Alastor finally found the one extra feature you decided to add. After a small click sounded, the small phone extended in his hands, making him let it go. The small screen was now larger; touchscreen.

Alastor's eye twitched. He could almost hear you cackling. 

He was going to end you.

@theblueslytherin Here as promised! I really hope you like it!

Alastor Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @dasimp777

I NEED THIS FRAMED IN MY HOUSE!

😂 we should have known better

You were frustrated from dealing with Angel Dust's antics all morning, you sought out Alastor's wisdom in a moment of weakness.

Y/N: Alastor?

Alastor: Yes, my dear?

Y/N: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Alastor: How tall are you?

Y/N: ...

Y/N: Yeah, I can't even get mad. I walked into that one.

Reader, minding your business, talking with the other hotel residents and unaware of the eyes following you through the room. Static crackles around the man watching you. That man wasted no time following you into the fall as you excused yourself from the group. That terrifying man materialized in front of you now, rising up from the shadows with his back turned to you, looking dramatically over his shoulder.

Alastor: "You must be a magician because when I look at you, everyone else disappears—though I must admit, I'm still a bit confused about what spell you've cast."

😂😂

Guys, I’m wheezing!!!!!!!!! The way she throws him around? Nahhh, I love this!

Just imagine Alastor and his s/o watching this back in the day.

Her: “Can I practice these moves on you?”

Him: terrified “Absolutely not, my dear!”