Lucifer X Death!fem!reader
@lxkeee tysm for giving me the idea <3
Warnings: mentions of death.
Plot: In the heart of Hell, Y/N, the Curator of Souls, reads the CVs of sinners and decides their fate—Heaven or Hell. When Lucifer Morningstar, the fallen angel, questions her choices, she can't help but become smitten.
Y/N, the eternal Curator of Souls, had a peculiar job. She was neither angel nor demon, but something in between—a cosmic bureaucrat with a penchant for paperwork. Her office was a dimly lit room, shelves stacked high with ancient tomes, each containing the life story of a mortal.
Every day, Y/N received a new batch of souls. They arrived in a shimmering stream, like fireflies drawn to her presence. She would sit at her desk, the quill in her hand poised over the ledger, and read their stories.
Each soul had a CV, a Curriculum Vitae of their existence, detailing their triumphs, sins, and secrets.Some souls were easy to judge. The murderers, the tyrants—they were destined for the abyss. Y/N would escort them to Lucifer himself, the fallen angel who ruled over Hell. His eyes, once bright with heavenly light, now smoldered with infernal fire. He would nod, and the soul would be cast into the depths, screams echoing through the cavernous halls.
But there were others—the artists, the dreamers, the lovers—who deserved a chance at redemption. For them, Y/N would guide them to the Pearly Gates. There, Saint Peter awaited, his ancient book of names in hand. He would weigh their deeds, measure their hearts, and decide their fate. Some would ascend to paradise, while others would be turned away, tears in their eyes.
Lucifer never thought twice; he never doubted the Curator. Unlike Peter, never has he looked at her and told her 'This soul does not belong with me, it shall suffer somewhere else'. Because, he knew that, unlike Saint Peter and the King, Y/N knew more about the job then they could ever.
"He belongs here with you, Peter!" she'd call out. "The feelings of regret show how much he belongs. Don't cast him somewhere he won't survive."
"He's done things unforgivable." Saint Peter would reply with a cold tone. "I know better, as an angel. Now go do your job and send this fragile soul to the Hell he belongs in."
Eons ago, Y/N would disagree. She was young, brave, cursing at the saint as he pushed her away, turned the words of God, pushing the crying souls even if they apologized.
Y/N now was quiet, reserved, tired. She did her job without many spoken words, flying through realms, sending apologetic smiles to the souls who had to cry as they got banished.
-
The Curator of Souls had grown weary of her eternal duty. She floated between realms, her ethereal form shifting from shadow to light.
Her task was simple yet agonizing: to ferry the departed to their final destinations—Heaven or Hell.
But Y/N was no ordinary reaper. She read the CVs of the souls she collected—their life stories condensed into parchment. Each soul had a tale to tell, a balance of virtue and vice. Some were destined for celestial bliss, while others faced the infernal abyss.
And then there was Lucifer, the fallen angel who ruled over Hell. His eyes held secrets—ancient pain, rebellion, and a hunger for redemption. Y/N had glimpsed him during her duties, his presence both terrifying and alluring. She wondered what it would be like to linger in his domain, to taste forbidden fruit.
One fateful night, as Y/N prepared to collect a particularly notorious soul—a ruthless dictator—she felt Lucifer’s gaze upon her. He materialized in her path, his wings tattered but majestic.
“Curator,” he said, his voice like silk over flames. “Why do you hesitate? Cast him into my realm.”
Y/N studied the dictator’s CV. The man had orchestrated genocide, yet his eyes held regret. She was exhausted, silenced for too long. It was time she spoke up.
“I’ll decide his fate,” Y/N said. “Not you.”
Knowing Saint Peter, Y/N had no choice but to cast the soul to Hell, that was true. But the Curator had something else in mind, tired of letting souls face a fate they didn't deserve.
Her cold palms reached the man's face, her fingers tickling as a shadow emerged from her hands and into the man, stealing his soul as it got absorbed into the reaper. The body fell limp to the ground, now soulless.
"Why let him suffer a fate he could've avoided?" The reaper asked, gently brushing her fingers over the body. "Now he'll be at peace."
Lucifer was in awe. Looking at the Curator was if she's done something unbelievable, like a teen seeing a girl worth crushing for for the first time.
Ever since the leaving of Lilith, he felt so alone. Distancing himself from his daughter, falling into depression and loneliness. Such a small thing as seeing the reaper , the only reaper the world has ever had, do something so out of her comfort zone, made him feel like a kid again.
It made him feel young.
-
As the years passed, Y/N’s visits to Hell increased. She lingered in Lucifer’s court, discussing philosophy, art, and the nature of sin. He was no longer the adversary she’d feared but a fallen angel seeking a friend, someone to make him feel less alone.
“Why do you come?” Lucifer asked one moonlit night. “Is it the thrill of danger or something more?”
Y/N traced the scars on his wings. “Perhaps I seek redemption too. Perhaps I want to know who I truly am, and you bring my real self."
Y/N hesitated. “And what do you gain? From letting the curator visit you? From letting Death herself find a friend in you?”
“Happiness,” Lucifer said. “From someone who understands both Heaven and Hell, who knows how to make me feel just as Lilith once did too.”
Help the ending was so rushed. This feels kinda basic and not finished so if anyone wants me to turn this into a series just say so :).
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Gnawing at my enclosure
SPEAK TO ME | Alastor x f.reader
Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.
FULL STORY!
Here we have it! The full story! 5k of pure smut. Enjoy darlings!
Tags: Dom!Alastor, masturbation, oral, light bondage, fingering, dirty talk
Attraction was a funny thing. It could never be explained, and often, it just appeared one day. Attraction could hit you like a train in the dead of night, but sometimes, it would follow you like a shadow. Whispering sweet words in your ear without making itself too known, not until it was too late, and you realised that you had stayed awake for two hours when you should have been asleep thinking about what someone's hands would feel on your skin.
Attraction was an annoyance, but lust, its evil twin, was irrational, unpredictable, and, worst of all, it made you stupid.
So incredibly dumb.
The lust had crept up on you like a thief in the night. Stealing your rational mind and sanity, leaving only the body to fend off the raging attraction that wanted to sink its teeth into your tender flesh.
Having a crush on the radio demon was a poor choice and a painful one.
It began weeks ago when you first arrived at the crumbling hotel.
Hazbin Hotel, with its rehabilitation program, had been your last resort after your landlord, who really deserved to be in Hell, kicked you out of your apartment.
You had been tired of fending for yourself, trying to work, feed yourself and find an apartment with a landlord who wasn't a humongous creep. It seemed to be an impossible task in Hell. It wasn't until you heard one of your coworkers talk about the interview on the news with the princess of Hell that you found out about her little redemption project.
The Hazbin Hotel appeared like a lighthouse on the horizon for you, and the prospect of a warm meal and a soft bed was too enticing to pass on.
Charlie had, of course, taken you in straight away and for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally catch your breath.
The bath you took that evening in your own bathroom, connected to your own bedroom, was heavenly. Almost sinful with how much pleasure you took from it.
The next day had been quite overwhelming to you, to say the least. Thrown into the middle of trust exercises with people whom you had known less than 24 hours, where you had, in the span of two hours, visited a bondage club and escaped a turf war that Vaggie had thrown you into. If that was how she had learned to trust others, then maybe you weren't cut out for redemption.
While the other hotel residents turned out to be a wonderful company, one, in particular, made your little sinner's heart skip a beat.
Alastor, the infamous radio demon.
He had ... not been what you had expected.
From all the tales you'd heard of him, you expected a grotesque monster who murdered anyone who would just look at him funny. But he couldn't have been further from the image you had created of him from all the rumours.
First of all, he was beautiful. His soft red eyes were so hypnotising that you feared you would drown in them, with a smile showing rows of sharp teeth. One thing was for sure: Hell would contort any morals and virtues you may have had, and if you had liked the idea of lovers biting your skin during intercourse before, it was now a raving obsession. An obsession that would fule you nightly fantasies for weeks and weeks.
Sometimes, that was the only thing you could think about, his sharp teeth grazing your neck or nibbling your ear.
Alastor was also very charming in his own way. A gentleman by hellish standards. Whenever you were going somewhere in the same direction, he would always hold up doors for you or pull out the chair for you during dinner time. Something you were highly unused to, and it had taken a long time for you not to blush whenever he did it.
Whilst his jokes were lame at best, the conversations you would have late at night by the fireplace were your favourite time of the day. Because you loved his voice. You really loved his voice.
There was something so bewitching with that transatlantic accent and that strange buzzing overlay to how he spoke. It made it sound like he was far away when he was, in fact, right in front of you, and the gentle buzzing had made you tremble more times than you could count.
Something that you suspected that Alastor had caught on to with how often he would appear behind you, only to put his head right beside yours and say the most innocent things that would make you react in the most sinful ways.
The day he had started to call you 'my dear' had been a day you would never forget, for you had laid awake all night imagining him whispering those exact words in your ear as you brought yourself to climax. Again, again, and again.
You had had a tough time the day after looking him in the eyes without thinking of all the times you had desperately whispered his name into your pillow with your fingers between your legs.
"What's this?" you asked, surprised as you sat down to eat breakfast. On the table sat a red present with a big black bow right in front of the seat you always occupied. You could recognise Rosies' gift rapping technique anywhere.
"It is a gift, my dear. Open it," answered Alastor and sat down to your right at the end of the table.
You and Alastor were always the two residents in the hotel who were awake first: You because you wanted to spend as much time as possible with the strange but charming sinner. Unfortunately, he had the habit of disappearing during the day, so you only ever had the morning and the night to talk uninterrupted with him. You also suspected that Alastor barely slept because, after your evening chats, when you went to bed, Alastor would go up to his radio tower to host his show, and you had no idea when he would end them.
You opened the gift slowly as if savouring it, trying not to get too excited about having gotten a gift from Alastor when, in reality, you just wanted to rip it open.
Inside the box was a beautiful antique radio in pristine condition. The dark wooded exterior was smooth and shiny as if someone had just polished it, and it made you almost not want to touch it in case you left fingerprints on it.
You looked up at Alastor, whose smile seemed to grow as he looked at you.
"I remember you telling me that you had never had the pleasure of hearing my radio show, and now you can listen to it whenever you want!"
At times like these, you wondered if Alastor knew of your slightly obsessive crush on him. He struck you as a man who liked to play with his food.
The radio turned out to be a great gift that you used almost religiously. Every evening, when you were preparing to go to bed, you would turn on the radio and listen to Alastor's radio show. You would have the radio on softly in the background as you walked around your room doing your nightly routine. Sometimes, you would even invent stuff for you to do so you could stay up longer just so you could listen to his voice.
It was almost like he was in the room with you, talking just to you about anything he found interesting. On the odd occasion, Alastor would incorporate a passive-aggressive threat into the show for some poor sinner getting in his way, but that never scared you. In fact, you looked forward to those instances.
Alastors' voice would drop and get darker, reminding everyone who listened that he was still dangerous—a predator waiting to strike.
A wolf in sheep's clothing, and what a stupid sheep you were. Yearning for the wolf bite.
Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room.
"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!"
Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on.
You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. Leaving the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you.
The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent.
You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex.
Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak.
Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hands, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard.
Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.
One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear.
You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.
You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure.
You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer.
You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.
You are so, so close.
"What are you doing, my dear?"
Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes.
His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you.
"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched."
Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red.
Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked before him. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago.
"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?"
Shaking all over, you lunged for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble all over again over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.
You would be lying if you said you had a good night's sleep after that fateful evening—or if you said you had slept at all.
You had stayed up all night replaying the previous night's events, unable to comprehend what you had been through. Had it really happened? Had Alastor really listened to you masturbate while you were moaning his name? It had almost felt like a fever dream had you not stared at the pulled-out electrical cord for the radio all morning.
The clock on your dresser kept ticking as you sat in your black dressing gown on your bed. The time was about to turn nine, and you had not stepped a foot outside of your bedroom, too scared to face the man after your night. You knew you had to leave your bedroom sooner or later, but you were waiting until you were sure that Alastor would have gone for the day to do whatever he usually did during the day. As soon as you were sure that you would not encounter him in the hallway, you would sneak out of your bedroom and go down to the kitchen to steal all the snacks you needed to survive the day cupped out in your own room, like the coward you intended to be.
It was one thing to fantasise about Alastor naked, but it was a completely different thing to now face the possibility that maybe he would like to see you naked, too.
Three knocks were heard from your door out of nowhere before Alastor slammed the door open and stepped in with a silver tray full of food in his band. You let out a small yelp before climbing further up into the bed to get away from the other sinner, who waltzed into your room as if he owned the place.
"My dear, what are you doing in bed at this hour? Don't you know that you've missed breakfast?" Alastor's voice was laced with a hint of amusement as if he found your predicament delightful. He walked over to the little table and armchair you had in front of the unused fireplace on the opposite wall to the bed and sat down the tray on the table before conjuring a matching armchair out of thin air. He sat down as if nothing was out of the ordinary and leaned his cane against the armrest as soft jazz music began playing.
As you sat on your bed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your underdressed state, you watched in disbelief as Alastor, seemingly unperturbed by your unease, crossed his legs and settled into your room. His casual demeanour, coupled with his humming along to the music, only served to deepen your sense of bewilderment, and you were sure that you were hallucinating.
You must have eaten something terrible yesterday, and maybe everything you thought happened last night and now was all in your head.
"Are you going to eat or not? Your food is getting cold, my dear."
The look Alastor gave you from the corner of his eye told you that it was in your best interest to sit in the armchair in front of him and eat.
You slowly left the safety of your bed and walked over to Alastor. However, the steps you took on the way were tiny, considering that your dressing gown ended in the middle of your thighs, and you didn't want to flash him accidentally. Not caring about the look you got from Alastor, you shuffled your feet across the room and sat down in the armchair, struggling as you continued to keep your legs as close together as possible.
With shaking hands, you took the small coffee cup and were about to put it to your lips for a sip when Alastor spoke up again:
"Aren't you forgetting something, my dear?"
The look he was giving you made shivers travel up and down your spine. Shivers dipped in fear with a hint of excitement. He had never looked at you so intensely before.
"Thank you for bringing me breakfast," you whispered hoarsely.
"Good girl." You almost choked on your coffee, "And you're welcome."
You had a tough time looking into his eyes after that comment as your cheeks grew warmer and warmer.
Without warning, Alastor began to talk about everything that needed to be done that day. Apparently, Niffty had found a cockroach infestation in the basement, and Charlie had decided they would use chemicals instead of Niffty's needle, which she liked stabbing them with.
Alastor kept talking on and on about work and the hotel as you ate. On the outside, you kept calm as you finished the last of your breakfast, but on the inside, you wondered if he would mention what had happened yesterday. Had it even happened?
Maybe it hadn't, and your obsessive crush had finally broken you.
"Ah, I see that you have finished your breakfast! Well, I best be on my way!" With a snap of his finger, Alastor made the breakfast tray disappear into a red cloud. He did, however, leave the extra chair he had conjured up.
"Could you be a doll and tell Vaggie that I'll need the documents later today and that she can leave them in the bar? I need to head out today, and I don't think I'll be back until this evening," said Alastor as he stood up, brushing invisible dust off his impeccable suit.
"Uhm, sure. I'll do that. Just close the door when you leave, please," you answered as you looked as Alastor made way for the hallway door. He waved absentmindedly over his shoulder in affirmation of your request.
A small part of you were disappointed that this little breakfast meeting had turned out the way it had, no matter how confounding it had been. If only you could have gotten a hint from Alastor about what he was thinking and why he frankly was there.
Maybe he had just brought you breakfast from the goodness of his heart? Or he had just missed your company that morning since you usually only got to talk uninterrupted in the morning.
You turned around to walk to the bathroom as he left your room. Letting your shoulder slump in disappointment, you wondered what you would do that day. You remembered that Charlie had mentioned that it would be nice if the hotel's garden were more well-kept but that she couldn't hire a gardener just yet.
That could be the thing you did today. Find some gardening tools and surprise Charlie by pulling out all the weeds in the flowerbeds.
Oh, what a joy, you thought sarcastically as you started to open the bathroom door. However, it slammed close hard in front of you as a hand shot forward and a hard chest pressed into your back.
All around you began shadows to dance as if they were made of mist, and the air got charged with a static you were all too familiar with. The shivers came back, but your whole body shivered this time as his other hand gripped your hip, pressing you closer to him, but the only thing you could focus on was his breath fanning over your ear as he whispered:
"I will be back at eleven tonight, and when I get back, I will find you in your bed, naked, waiting on me. You are not allowed to touch yourself, and don't try to defy me, my dear, for I will know if you do."
In a heartbeat, Alastor was gone, and your body instantly felt colder. Shaking all over, your knees finally gave away under you, and you collapsed in front of your bathroom door.
Behind you, the radio began to play softly—the same music Alastor had played during breakfast. Looking at the blasted thing, you could see that the radio wasn't plugged in.
The clock was about to strike a quarter to eleven, and you had been a nervous wreck for the past three hours. Time couldn't have gone by slower as you constantly turned to look at the clock hands to see how far they had moved.
You had tried to distract yourself during the day with the gardening, but you constantly got distracted by all the fantasies you had of what Alastor would do to you. Turned out that it was really hard to work when horny.
As you looked at the clock again, you re-adjusted in your bed for what felt like the thousandth time. 10:47.
Ugh, this is taking forever!
Laying down again, you looked over at the radio on your nightstand. It had been quiet since the morning, but you still waited to hear the tiniest sound from it that would indicate that Alastor was with you. But nothing came.
You turned on your side to continue staring at the radio as you took one of your pillows and pressed it against you. The air in your room was cold against your skin, yet you ignored your chilled skin, for the mere thought of what would happen tonight warmed you from the inside out.
The benefit of laying on your side was that you now could feel the slickness between your legs, coating almost all of the insides of your thighs. You knew that Alastor had said that you were not allowed to touch yourself, but he had never specified in what way you could not touch yourself, and if you didn't get some of your release soon, you felt like you would spontaneously ignite.
Slowly, you started to press your legs together as you rubbed them against each other. Sweet pressure was building up the pleasure within you as you pressed your face into the pillow. Harder and harder, you tried to push your legs together, increasing the pleasure you had longed for all of them.
Close, you were so close, and the excitement of defying Alastor just heightened the experience.
You only needed one more push until you would fall over the edge into sweet release, but it never came as something grabbed onto your ankles and roughly pulled your legs apart.
"I must say, I am really disappointed in you, my dear."
From the shadows stepped Alastor out and looked down at you from the end of the bed, but what scared you the most was that he was not smiling.
Looking down at you from heavily hooded eyes, Alastor dragged your body further down the bed, keeping your legs spread out with the help of his shadow tentacles.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it," you pleaded, hoping he would show you mercy, but from the looks of it, you would not be shown any.
"Don't lie to me. You know very well what you did." With a snap of his finger, the armchair Alastor had conjured earlier that day dragged across the floor and stopped behind him. He sat down and made himself comfortable, looking over at you as he had a full view of between your legs.
"Now, darling, since you didn't listen to me, there will be consequences," said Alastor, crossing his legs and leaning his head in his hand lazily. You pressed up on your elbows to look over at him, and while his body language did not look interested, his eyes were sharp, focusing on your wetness that glistened in the light from the chandelier.
"One, you are not allowed to touch me."
"What?!" you cried, the fear that you had ruined your only chance with Alastor burning within you like a forest fire.
"Silence." You instantly shut your mouth as static filled the air and prickled your skin. Alastor's antlers had grown in size. He sighed and continued when he was sure that you would not say one more word.
"As I was saying, you are not allowed to touch me, but I can touch you however I want. If you wish me to stop, you will simply say television. Understod?"
"Yes."
"Yes, and?"
"Yes, sir?" You weren't sure what Alastor wanted to hear, but from the smirk that started growing on his lisp, you were sure that you had said the right thing.
"What a good little doe you are, my dear." Whilst you were sure that was said condescendingly, you could not help the pride that grew in you that he thought you were good for him. A small yelp was pulled from your lips as you felt Alastors tentacles start to massage their way up your legs.
"You seemed to like my voice so much, my dear, that I thought you must love it if I command you as well. Isn't that what you want? For me to tell you exactly what to do to you and how to do it? Wouldn't you like to put on a show for me, darling?"
Your brain was short-circuiting as you could not get a single word out. The only thing you could do was nod enthusiastically as Alastor's shadow tentacles gently began to play with your lips between your legs without touching your clit.
"Lovely." said Alastor, now giving you his trademark smile, "Why don't you show me how you touched yourself yesterday? I could hear those delicious sounds you made, my dear, and I want to hear them live."
And so, with shaking hands, you began massaging and caressing your body, making sure that you touched every part of your body that made you sing in pleasure. You wanted to put on a show, but you were so eager, so impatient as you played with your body that you could not bear the thought of prolonging this torture.
You needed to be touched, and you needed it now.
Dipping your hand between your legs, you could feel Alastors tentacles pull away from your genitals but keep a firm grip on your thighs. The first time you touched your clit was electric, as you made sure to look Alastor deep in the eyes when you did it. A soft moan from you filled the air.
Rolling the tip of your finger lazily against your clit you looked on with great satisfaction as Alastors eyes dropped from your down to your finger between your legs.
"Drag your fingers between your lips, darling, but before you do, circle your opening. Slowly without pushing in," commanded Alastor, and if you weren't delusional, you thought you heard the desperation in his voice, but his face gave nothing away. He readjusted in the chair by uncrossing his legs, giving you a full view of his hard cock in his pants.
Never had you been filled with the need to fall on your knees and suck someone's cuck as if it was what you were created to do as you did now. You licked your lips and whined loudly as you circled the opening to your vagina with your finger, wishing it was Alastors finger or tongue that did it instead.
After circling for some time, you pulled your finger through your lips up to your clit and began touching your clit again. This time, with additional wetness, you let all the sounds you wished to make leave your mouth as you quickened the speed of your finger.
"That's it, darling, you are doing so well." Whispered Alastor as he leaned forward in his chair, "When you feel like you're about to cum, remove your finger immediately."
The demand almost made you want to cry, but from the look Alastor was giving you, you did not want to challenge him. Savouring the feeling of your fingers a few seconds more before you removed your fingers from your clit that begged your release. The orgasm that had been at the tip of your fingers slowly fizzled out as you started to calm down.
You looked at Alastor, who had moved from his chair to sit on the bed by your feet, waiting for his following instructions.
"What a treasure you are, darling. So willing, so needy."
Alastor lifted his hand and, with the back of his fingers, caressed the inside of your thigh. The touch was so charged that it felt like you could cum from that mere touch alone. As your leg twitched from his touch, Alastor's tentacle tightened around your leg, pulling you closer to him. Your breath got stuck in your throat as you watched Alastor climb onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs.
"How long have you dreamt of this? How long have you been mine without me knowing it?" The look in Alastor's eyes grew increasingly intense as he leaned over you, looking down at you with an almost mad look in his red eyes. Out of nowhere, Alastor pushed two fingers inside of you and curled them, making your hips lift from the bed involuntarily at the pleasure.
"How long, my dear? Answer me," he growled as his antlers grew. You could barely breathe as he continued to curl his finger repeatedly inside you, hitting the spot that made your toes curl.
"Since... since I first met you!" you cried as your breathing quickened. Above you, Alastor chuckled darkly as he put his free hand on your left thigh.
"So long. We have much time to catch up to, don't we, dear?"
You could barely comprehend a single word that left his sinful mouth as you neared the orgasm you desperately wanted. And had you not made the mistake you would have made, you would have cum on Alastors finger.
In your lustful haze, you placed your hand on Alastors arm, holding your thigh. Instantly, Alastor recoiled from you, and the second orgasms you had almost tipped over were ripped from you.
"What did I say about not touching me?"
Two new tentacles came out of nowhere and wrapped around your arms, pulling them above your head.
As you begged and pleaded for forgiveness, the weight of your desperation was palpable. You implored Alastor not to leave you like this with every fibre of your being. The thought of losing him now was unbearable, and you knew that if he did leave, it would be the end of you.
Your legs shook from the strain of being in the same position for so long. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. You were overwhelmed with emotion, your heart aching with the fear and uncertainty of what would happen next. The tension in the air was unmistakable, and you held your breath, waiting for Alastor's response.
But he only looked at you from under heavy lids. Slowly, he lifted his hand that had fingered you and licked the wetness that was still on it.
"If you think I would leave you now, my dear, you are indeed mistaken. You are mine now, and I will do with you as I please." Grabbing both of your legs under your knees, Alastor pulled you towards him before bending you backwards so your toes almost touched the bed beside your hands. He stared deep into your eyes as he put his tongue against you and licked you from your vaginas opening up to your clit. The sound you made had been ungodly and would have been a miracle if no one else in the hotel had heard you.
Alastor quickly started to suck and lick your clit as your legs began to shake. You could feel the sinner's claws dug into your flesh as he grew increasingly frantic in his administration, acting almost like someone who had just been presented with a glass of water after 12 days in the desert.
Pressure built up within you for the third time, this time stronger and more intense than the previous ones. Closer and closer, he took you to the edge you wished to fall from.
Shaking, twisting, and pulling against your restraint, you let Alastors name fall from your lips loudly as you looked at him, giving you pleasure. Blood was dripping down from your thighs where his claws had dug into your skin, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the sweet release that you begging for.
"Close, Alastor, I'm so close," the words tumbled out of you in a whisper as you looked on as the man licked your clit with the tip of his tongue. The only thing Alastor did was briefly look up at you as he continued to give you pleasure.
Closer, closer, and then you fell.
The orgasm ripped through your body like a tidal wave, making your thighs tremble uncontrollably. Your toes curled almost painfully as you threw your head back in ecstasy.
You had no idea when Alastor had put your legs back down, but suddenly, when you came to it, he was sitting by your head, gently brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead.
"What a good little doe you were for me, my love."
Thank you for reading my little story! I hope you like it!
Taglist: @mossingvines @kitty-kei @chibistar45
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