Hazbin Hotel Alastor X You - Tumblr Posts

Alastor just admit you like cuddling already!!!! This was a fluffy warm story that made my night💖💜🩵🩷💘 Great job @signedreality

Hello hello! May I request a fic that's been a brain worm of mine for awhile?

So it's reader and Alastor's first time sharing a bed. Alastor puts pillows to block reader from invading his space. But in the morning, Alastor and reader wake up, only to realize that he went to reader's side to cuddle– apparently he's clingy in his sleep. Fluff/embarassment ensues

Enjoy your trip to Colorado!

-(can i be 🌾 anon?)

𐙚       CLINGY

        alastor x reader

⟢ synopsis ; the excitement you had when you and alastor were going to a share a bed for the first time was immediately shattered once you both were separated by a pillow—for you were informed he wanted his personal space—but once you woke up, you would soon learn that when it comes to alastor, there is no such thing as space.

⟢ warnings : romance, petnames, sharing a bed with alastor, and the destruction of an innocent pillow.

⟢ missive ; we're back on the air, and it's lovely to be back! i'll add you to my anon list, and i do hope you enjoy this broadcast!

now airing ; rises the moon - liana flores

when you and alastor started dating, you were immediately acknowledged about how much he despised touch.

the only time he'd allow you to touch him was if he was holding your hand, or you were holding his arm during outings—other than that, you never initiated physical touch.

so, it was understandable when alastor put a pillow in between you both when you first started to sleep together.

"just in case you decide to move around while resting," alastor spoke as he situated the pillow, "this will be here so you don't end up hitting me or whatnot..."

despite his words deeming that it was because he didn't wish to be hit, you knew that it was truly due to the fact he didn't want to be touched. and once again, you understood.

you both went to bed with the pillow in between you, and you fell asleep with the idea that it would still be there when you woke up.

but the morning only proved you wrong.

the dull lighting of alastor's bayou was what you woke up to as your vision tried to focus from its morning blur, and you were almost perplexed once you felt a heavy feeling on your chest. maybe the hotel's cat had snuck in?

while it was doubtful, you wouldn't be shocked if the cat had managed to slip its way in when you and alastor were entering the room to get ready for bed. the cat was a slick little thing when it came to entering rooms.

yet, you were shocked when your eyes flickered down—the sight you viewed being one you didn't expect.

instead of seeing the cat you had assumed was resting on you—the fur resting against your cheeks only feeding the thought—you were introduced to the figure of alastor resting beside you.

his arm was wrapped around you while his lanky legs had tangled with yours, and his body was pressed against yours with no sign of discomfort. did he move the pillow?

you looked around as much as you could without moving, for you didn't want to wake alastor, and you ended up succeeding as your eyes landed on the pillow that had originally been used as a divider.

it was torn on the ground with its fluff sprawled around the ground—bits of it being everywhere as it poured through the claw marks.

ones that were clearly made by alastor.

you could only let out a quiet chuckle as you brought your attention back to him, and you examined the calmed expression on his face.

his head rested in the crook of your neck while his ears slightly twitched with each beat of your perished heart—the fluff on them grazing your skin as you partially smiled.

you slowly moved your hand to the back of his head as your fingers ran through his hair, and it wasn't long before his eyes peeked open.

the crimson in his gaze appeared soft—the usual bloodlust being replaced by the desire to just be held. it was a look you had barely seen, yet it was one you cherished anytime you viewed it.

"good morning..." you spoke in a whisper to ensure you didn't startle him, and it appeared to be working as he nuzzled his head into your neck more. "good morning..."

a few moments passed with him peering up at you with lidded eyes, and they closed for a second until they opened as wide as saucers.

alastor pulled away from you as you raised an eyebrow at him, and he sat up next to you while a slight scowl was on his face.

"didn't i inform you that i wished to have my space?" despite his clear rage, you were aware it wasn't pointed at you—why would it be? his question was one he already knew the answer to, and he knew that you weren't at fault.

but instead, he was the one who went against his own wishes.

"al, i'm still on my side of the bed, no?" you spoke as you gestured to where you were laying, and a gentle tint of red flushed on his face while you softly snickered. "and you're the one who tossed the pillow away..."

"i did no such thing!" alastor spoke in a defensive tone until you gestured to the pillow that still remained on the ground, and the demon's smile only strained at the sight.

"this isn't amusing, cher—" he mumbled while gripping his temples, to which you just raised a hand to place it on his shoulder with a slight bit of hesitence. when he still appeared eased, you spoke up. "in my opinion, it is."

your taunting only made him grumble before you sat up, and you scooted closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.

alastor partially tensed at your action until you tilted your head so you could kiss his cheek, and his eyes peered into yours.

while his gape held irritation, yours feigned innocence that he couldn't help but relax at.

you felt his arm wrap around your waist before he forced you back down onto the mattress, and you let out a wheezed laugh as he rested on top of you.

your arms wrapped around his back as alastor kept his head in the crook of his neck, and once you started to scratch his back, a sigh of contentment escaped his lips.

"i believe charlie can manage on her own without us for a bit, can't she?" he teased in a low tone before lifting his head, and his forehead rested against yours while you smiled at him. "she's the princess of hell—i'm sure she'll be fine..."

"lovely to hear, my dear..." his lips pressed against yours as soon as his words were finished, and you hummed into the kiss while your hands moved to the back of his head.

your fingers gently rubbed his scalp, and his ears flattened against his head—a smile sprawling onto your face at the action. it always amused you each time his ears flattened due to your actions.

and it amused you even more when you heard a soft bleat escape his lips as you deepened the kiss.

you pulled back with a taunting grin while alastor only lightly scowled at you in humiliation, and you shifted underneath him so you could place a kiss on his temple.

"that was adorable..."

"if what occurred in this room ever gets out, i will—"

you cut him off by moving your hand to scratch under his chin, and another bleat left his throat while you snickered. "you'll what, al?"

you were left without an answer as alastor forced his face into the crook of your neck, and you let out a sigh of contentment before closing your eyes.

⤷ word count ; 1,155

©SIGNEDREALITY

☁️        reblogs + hearts + comments are appreciated !

listeners : @simpingoncarmensandiego @ari-hatake24 @heartfeltcherie

This was super sweet and soft and omg-faints.

Wish I was this reader right now!!!❤️🩷❤️🩷

Hello Anonnie, thank you for feeding the great Vexitober 2024. I also had a headache today, so this was an incredibly self-indulgent piece. I hope you'll see your dentist soon, 'cos things are about to get tooth-rotting fluffy.

Pain pulsed relentlessly through your skull, like a hammer repeatedly striking, each throb sending waves of agony through your temples. It wasn’t just your head, though – the stabbing sensation behind your eyes made it feel as if a thousand daggers were tearing through them.  

You whimpered softly, curling up on your side in a tight fetal position, your ears flattening painfully against the back of your head. Even your small, normally perky tail dropped, pressing against your body as if trying to shield you from the unbearable ache.  

This was Hell in its truest form. Wasn’t this place supposed to be torture for your soul? You’d never thought that meant literally headaches that felt like they could split your skull open. Could souls even get headaches? Apparently so, because the searing pain you were enduring right now was unlike anything you’d experienced in life. It was as though the universe had decided to answer your rhetorical question with a sliver platter of misery.  

A sudden, lively burst of static followed by a too-cheerful voice shattered what little peace you’d managed to carve out. “Good morning, my little doe!” Alastor’s familiar, crackling tone cut through the air like a sharp knife. Normally, the sound of his voice would send a thrill of excitement through you, his energy infectious and wondrous. But right now, it was nothing short of torture. You let out a high-pitched whimper, your ears pressing harder against your head as if you could block out the noise.  

You burrowed deeper into the blanket, pulling it up over your head in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the light, the sound, the world. But nothing could block out Alastor, not when he had his sights set on you.  

The mattress dipped as he sat down beside you before you heard the rustle of your blankets. A moment later, his face appeared, his mischievous red eyes glowing from underneath the covers. “Oh, darling, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hide from me.” His grin widened, as smug as ever, his amusement palpable even in the low light.  

You pouted, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain surged again, sharp and unwelcoming. “Alastor, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “My head…it hurts so much. Can’t you just let me rest for a little while?” Your hands came up to cradle your face, fingers pressing against your temples in a futile attempt to massage away the ache. But the pain didn’t subside. It only worsened, making you feel small, vulnerable, and utterly helpless.  

“Oh, darling,” Alastor cooed, his voice soft yet dripping with that ever-present playfulness. His slender fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently but insistently pulling them away from your face. You blinked up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his touch, expecting something more teasing, more dismissive.  

Instead, he squirmed his way into your makeshift blanket fort, wriggling closer until he was lying next to you on his side, his body warm and solid against yours. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, but this time they weren’t filled with the usual mischief. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead gently against yours, and you shivered as strands of his hair brushed against your cheeks, tickling you with their softness.  

“Can you make the headache go away?” You whined softly, your voice small, fragile. It felt almost childish to ask, and you half-expected him to laugh, to make some cheeky remark about walking off the pain, as if a little stroll around the town would solve everything.  

But to your surprise, his eyes softened even more, and instead of teasing, he nuzzled the tip of your nose with his. The affectionate gesture was so out of character, yet so heart-melting sweet, it made your chest tighten with warmth. “My, and here I thought you were just trying to shirk away from your cleaning duties today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You really must be in pain, darling.” 

You scoffed, though there was no real bite behind it. “I’d much rather clean than deal with this awful headache,” you muttered, closing your eyes tight, trying to will the pain away. It throbbed persistently, but Alastor’s closeness offered a strange sort of comfort, his presence like a buffer between you and the agony.  

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of his hand as they cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light but grounding. His fingers slowly drifted down, tracing the line of your jaw, then brushing softly against your neck before resting in the crook of your shoulder. The weight of his hand was soothing, almost as if he could absorb some of your pain. “Can you sit up, darling?” He asked softly, his voice a gentle coaxing, not the usual commanding tone you were used to.  

Your eyes fluttered open, momentarily thrown off by the tenderness in his voice. Alastor – being gentle? It was a rare sight, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through you. Nodding slowly, you pushed yourself up from the bed, feeling the weight of your headache still pressing down but slightly less suffocating.  

As soon as you were upright, a sudden shift occurred – his shadows, inky and alive, coiled around you in a silky embrace. Before you could react, the world around you blurred and changed. In the blink of an eye, the soft blankets of your bed were replaced by the cool, marshy grass of Alastor’s bayou. You were in his room, specifically on the side of his pocket dimension where the air was always thick with the scent of earth and wood, and the stars above twinkled like diamonds against the forever-evening sky.  

You blinked, disoriented for a second, but the moment passed when you felt him behind you, his presence solid and reassuring. Alastor had positioned himself with his legs stretched out, encasing you within the circle of his body, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Slowly, with a gentleness that seemed foreign to him, he began to knead the tension out of your muscles, his long fingers working in small, firm circles.  

“Oh,” you gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it, your body melting into his touch. Your eyes fluttered half-closed, a hazy warmth spreading through you as the tension in your muscles slowly ebbed away. His hands moved with surprising skill, untying knots you hadn’t even realized were there, each press of his fingers sending a soothing wave of relief through your body.  

When he pressed a particular spot – right between your upper spine and just below your neck – you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you, your head falling back against him. The sensation was blissful, his fingers working wonders on the tightness in your shoulders and neck. “Y-you’re really good at this,” you mumbled, shivering as his fingers found another knot and worked it loose with practised ease.  

“I would hope so,” Alastor hummed, his voice low and smooth, with just the faintest edge of something possessive. “After all, only I know what my little doe needs.” There was a protective, almost territorial note in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat.  

It wasn’t just the physical touch that made his words sink deep – it was the way you fit so perfectly into his world. You were one of the few deer demons in Hell who not only tolerated butthrived in his eccentric, chaotic company.  

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “I can’t have my darling in pain,” he murmured, his hands never ceasing their gentle massage. “Especially when I’m the only one who knows how to make you feel better.” His tone was playful but layered with sincerity, a strange and intoxicating mixture of affection and mischief.  

His fingers slid up through your hair, claws barely grazing your scalp as a wave of tingles surged down your spine, leaving warmth and comfort in their wake. The sensation sent your tail into a gentle rhythm, pat pat patting against the grassy ground as you melted under his touch. Every scrape of his claws ignited a sense of pleasure you hadn’t realized you craved until now.  

“My,” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, his breath hot against your nape. “You must really enjoy this, don’t you?” The teasing edge in his voice was unmistakable, and you could practically hear the smirk hidden in his words. His chuckle was soft, poorly masked behind the affectionate taunting, sending another shiver through you.  

“It’s not just me who enjoys this,” you huffed, your voice taking on a playful lilt as you tilted your head back slightly, hoping to guide his claws to that one perfect spot near the base of your fluffy ears. “You like it when I do this to you too, Alastor.” You sighed contentedly, the tension in your body easing as his claws finally grazed that elusive spot. His index finger trailed up gently, scratching just at the base of your left ear. 

Every time his claw scraped the sensitive cartilage, your ear twitched in response, and you found yourself leaning back against him more fully, savouring the warmth of his broad chest behind you.  

Alastor hummed, a low vibration that you could feel in the way his cheek rested on top of your head. His breath fanned through your hair with each exhale, carrying the faintest scent of something earthy and metallic. “I suppose I do enjoy it,” he mused, the words a soft hum against your ear. “But, darling, you don’t pamper me nearly enough. Why, I should be asking you to indulge me so!” His voice lifted, taking on a playful, dramatic tone that made you snort.  

You barked out a laugh, but the sudden movement sent a sharp stab of pain through your head, reminding you that the headache still lingered beneath the comfort. You hissed softly, wincing as the ache flared again, though it was noticeably dulled thanks to Alastor’s efforts.  

“Oh dear,” Alastor tutted, his voice dropping to something soft and almost chastising. His arms snaked around you, looping over your chest before pulling you down with him to the cool, marshy grass of the bayou floor. His warmth enveloped you as your back pressed against him, and despite the coolness of the evening air, the heat radiating from his body kept you wrapped in cozy contentment.  

In the distance, the soft croak of frogs and the hum of crickets filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the intimate bubble you both shared.  

With a gentle tug, he repositioned you so that your face was nestled against his chest, his legs tangling lazily with yours. The world seemed to slow down, and you felt your pulse start to sync with the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “Alastor?” You mumbled, trying to lift your head. But before you could fully raise yourself, his hand pressed softly against the back of your head, urging you to lay back down.  

“Shh, darling,” his whispered, his voice softer now, almost protective. “Just rest.” His fingers began to stroke through your hair again, the slow, repetitive motion sending waves of comfort and peace over you. With each gentle brush of his hand, it felt as though he was physically pulling the tension and pain away, little by little. 

You let out a soft sigh, surrendering to his touch as you relaxed fully against him. Your ears twitched at the soothing thud of his heartbeat. “It’s just a headache,” you murmured sleepily, your body going limp against him as the warmth and scent of him – of metal, earth, and something distinctly Alastor – enveloped you. “Hardly an illness.” You nuzzled further into his chest, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar, comforting scent ease the last remnants of pain away.  

“It’s too late for me, I’m already contaminated,” Alastor declared dramatically, his voice suddenly bursting with theatrical flair. “I suppose we’ll have to be quarantined here together, won’t we?” His chuckle was soft, turning into a wistful sigh as he relaxed further, his arms tightening around you protectively.  

You giggled softly at his antics, the sound vibrating against his chest. His dramatics never failed to make you smile, even in moments like this. His hand continued its slow, soothing stroke over your head, his touch like a balm against the sharp edges of the lingering headache. The pain, though still present, had dulled to a manageable hum, and soon, the gentle rhythm of his hand combined with the steady beat of his heart lulled you closer to sleep.  

“Together,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavier. The stars above twinkled softly, the night sky in his bayou serene and timeless. The world felt small and safe here, nestled in his arms, the pain fading into the background as sleep pulled you under.  

The last thing you felt before drifting off was the tender brush of Alastor’s hand stroking through your hair, and the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath you – a steady, comforting lullaby in the heart of the bayou.  

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