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inkykeiji · 21 days

Text

you make a mess of me

character: alastor

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, blood + blood eating, periods, dry humping, biting (hard enough to break the skin), toxic relationship, noncon, possessiveness + entitled behaviour, pet/master dynamic, unintentional overstimulation + multiple orgasms, unrealistic amount of period blood, slashing/cutting the skin, alastor is getting off on the pain he’s inflicting on you

notes: this fic is extremely dead dove and involves alastor eating your period blood among other things. it gets gross; please read the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: lose control by teddy swims

words: 3.8k

The first day of your period is always, by far, the worst.

Because the first day of your period is the heaviest, the bloodiest, and, according to Alastor, the tastiest.

Which translates to: Alastor spending the entirety of the first day with his head buried between your legs, hungrily slurping blood from the most intimate part of your body, large claws curled around your hips and pinning you to the mattress, rendering you completely helpless beneath his grasp—defenceless against his vicious tongue, trapped at the mercy of his insatiable addiction.

You’ve lost track of time at this point, lost count of how many times he’s unintentionally made you cum, lost consciousness more than once, elusive and slipping from between your fingers, an intangible mist that you can’t seem to keep a solid grip on—something that melts in the heat of your palms as you squeeze too hard, too desperately.

But that promise of pleasure always seems to draw you back into the light of wakefulness, presses gasps of air into your lungs and shocks your mind from it’s muddled fog.

It’s building once more, a dense heat roiling low and slow in the pit of your stomach as it furls in on itself in an almost lazy manner—a ball of fire that grows hotter and heavier, pulses larger and larger as it expands, flares with every swipe of his nose against your swollen clit, singeing surrounding organs, consuming bordering tissues, boiling the blood in nearby tangles of vessels—until it stops, dims, dies once more, withering away to simmering little embers, yearning to catch flame all over again.

His unintentional edging eats away at your tattered sanity, renders you delirious for release, little fingers tangling in his bangs and yanking, a pitiful attempt to grind his face into your cunt, to catch your slick little nub on the tip of his nose.

The laps of his tongue, once soft as velvet, have turned rough against your licked-raw cunt, every drag of the wet muscle along your slit more painful than the last, sending tiny spikes searing through your gut.

It hurts, but it doesn’t stop you from being a greedy little thing, craving another orgasm, for that sweet, sweet relief that rushes through your exhausted body, that releases the tension building in your muscles, each graze against your clit coiling fibres tighter and tighter until your entire body has gone rigid, aching for reprieve.

For what it’s worth, Alastor doesn’t really seem to care—if anything, he encourages it, the hands on your hips aiding in your movements as your pelvis rolls up, the motion pushing another rush of warm blood from your hole. His tongue wiggles further inside of you, curls into a hook in response, siphoning the substance from your core into his throat with keen little growls exhaled out his nose.

It turns him into something primal—past animalistic, past inhuman, something ineffably sinister, all of his senses sharply honed on his singular task, antlers sprouting branches the longer he eats from you, the worse the pain grows.

He eats your blood like a starving man, with such vigour you’d think he’s never tasted something so delicious, obscenely drinking from the center your body—a delirious attempt to drain you of your essence, dangerous teeth just barely sealed behind puckering lips and an avid, twisting tongue.

It sounds disgusting, the crude smacks of his lips and working of his tongue echoing throughout his bedroom in thick squelches, his chin and his cheeks and his mouth drenched in your combined fluids—blood and spit, hurt and hunger.

It’s ritualistic in a sense, the way his tongue sprawls, swirls into your body, cups, and then darts back, scooping blood and tissue down his throat before forming a point, the tip circling the dips and contours of your cunt, sure to clean any remnants his messy eating might’ve left, before repeating the cycle over again.

Anguish turns stifling as he smothers himself with your core, time gone syrupy as it drips by dense glops, unhurried and unavailing. His tongue feels coarse against your once silky skin, now abraded by his incessant feeding, his methodical motions having caused tiny fissures to sprout along your hole.

Any faint flickers of pleasure have been completely eradicated now, morphed into torrid cinders that scorch your skin, pitchy wails scratching at your chest.

Something suspiciously similar to stop! shatters in your throat, your fingers burrowing further into his hair, knuckles rooted against his scalp right next to the base of his antlers and pulling.

He growls against you, the sound vibrating deep within your cunt, little tremors that snuggle into your flesh like worming maggots, a moan prying past your lips. A large palm flattens between your hip bones and presses down firmly, eliciting a squeak from your chest as it tries to milk your uterus from the inside out, desperate for more blood.

Another sound of frustration echoes behind his sternum, the fingers curled around your hip flexing, his talons further puncturing your flesh.

It isn’t enough for him.

Because, really, when has it ever been? When will it ever be? Your Owner has always been selfish when it comes to his precious pet.

There are already tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, streaming down over your temples in shimmering little trails. Droplets of salt glitter, suspended in spiky lashes, as your eyes flutter, blinking rapidly to clear your bleary vision and dislodging more water in the process.

Wordlessly, his head lifts from the apex of your thighs, elbows dimpling the mattress as he uses them to hoist his torso up, nosing along the junction of your hip with one deep inhale and letting the scent of fresh blood, trickling from the tiny piercings his claws have left, lead him.

His tongue, pigmented a dark crimson, unfurls from his mouth to flatten against your flesh, bathing over the little wounds in slow, deliberate laves. But that isn’t enough, either, a starving snarl ripping from his chest as he repeats the action, this time dragging his lips along, too, using them to encourage another bout of blood from the cuts as he sucks, hard.

It’s so strong, so forceful it has tiny tangles of vessels snapping beneath the skin, spilling enticingly into the surrounding tissues. A cry rips from your throat, back bowing off the bed as a bruise rapidly develops under his mouth, yet another mark he stains into you.

But staking such weak, insufficient claims isn’t what he’s here for today.

Something dark rumbles in his chest, the type of greed that’s borne in his core and nurtured by obsession, that rattles his ribs as it aches to escape, to consume more and more and more.

It’s tormented by the blood trapped below the barrier, ichor that teases him, taunts him, tests him—and, well, that’s just not fair, is it? How dare your body do such a cruel thing to its keeper; how dare your body withhold something that belongs to him.

Sharp teeth sink into supple flesh with zero resistance and scrape, effortlessly removing the first layer of skin and freeing the blood pooling beneath it. His avid tongue instantly sops up the substance, smoothing over the wound and pressing down powerfully, procuring another torrent of crimson.

But his rapacity still remains unfulfilled—if anything, it only grows in its appetency, that splash of blood serving as nothing more than a canapé.

He needs something deeper.

With another slow, vast sniff, he trails the tip of his nose along the expanse of your body, hunting for something thick and pulsing and allowing instinct to guide him, ears pricked and tuned into the frequency of a steady, strong pounding—and he finds it just above your belly button.

Stopping, he licks the area once—a long, broad stroke of his tongue, gliding across your skin and leaving a viscid smear of saliva in its wake.

Then a claw is puncturing your skin, slicing across your stomach in a controlled line, scarlet immediately seeping from the laceration, the tip of his talon missing your aorta by a hair.

It burns, a yelp sticking in your throat, tangling on a sob as you cough around it, spine arching instinctively. Cooling tingles skitter across the new incision as he breathes out a single puff of air, admiring his handiwork, before his mouth latches over it.

“Alastor!” you sob out, fingers curling against his shoulders and tugging, his name a garbled mess on your tongue. “What are you doing!”

“Hold fucking still,” he growls into the fresh injury. “Or I will rip your aorta out with my teeth.”

You know he won’t, know he values you far too much to kill you—his precious pet, his perfect little plaything, his prized possession—but that doesn’t mean that he won’t bring you alarmingly close to death—again.

Even still, and as fun as that is, he’ll never fully go through with it.

Because you’re so fucking obedient—he’s never found someone so dedicated, so devoted, so fucking desperate to please him, to go above and beyond and make him proud, all without a contract.

And he’s never giving that up.

Besides, he’s grown quite fond of you.

Predictably, you obey his order the instant it leaves his lips—never a single wisp of defiance drifting through your murky brain—squirming calmed, even as pangs quiver through your body.

He’s still for another moment or two, letting that delicious anticipation build, before he dives back into feeding, digs his tongue into the wound and tears it wider, another gush of warm blood rushing to fill the new gaping.

Another sound of pain cracks through his bedroom, jagged and crisp, and he nearly whines into your stomach, the wriggling of his tongue turned vicious.

It burrows into the wound, tip hooked as it plunges through the sticky substance, writhes under slippery tissues and broken capillaries in it’s quest for more, the rough voraciousness of it all sending blistering spears shooting through your stomach.

You’re well past the point of sobbing now, unintelligible pleads spilling past your lips soaked with spit, garbled and howled, but your nails scrape at his scalp, fingers tugging a little on his antlers, a moan vibrating against your flesh as his hands wrap around your hips again, holding you still.

He feeds on the stomach wound until the blood ceases to flow freely, until it requires too much effort on his part, blood working hard to begin congealing the gash only to be split open by his siphoning, over and over and over again.

Only then does he continue his exploration, scouring your body, nose curving over your ribs and outlining your breasts as claws slit superficial little slashes in your flesh, tongue swiping over them in experimentation, until finally he finds another heavy throbbing, right above your collarbone.

His breath, pushed from his lips in harsh, fast little pants of hunger, is infused with your blood, the stench of bitter copper stinging your nostrils as it wafts across your skin. It collects in damp little droplets against your neck, his tongue once again unfolding from its cavern to press, hard and flat and wide, against your jugular.

There’s no licking this time, no slow haul of the slick muscle to glaze the canvas before the inevitable incision, just his tongue held smooth and still pinned over the vein, feeling the steady rush of blood. Saliva drools steadily from the corners of his mouth, drizzling onto your chest in thick glass cords, tinted pale pink.

A shiver scampers up your spine as his irregular huffs ghost over your wet skin, chills erupting across your flesh. For a singular instant, everything is still, stagnant—your breath and his teeth and those wandering claws, the only constant being the pulsating thrum of your blood beneath his tongue—before his fingers are moving again, one palm curling around your neck to hold you still as a keen talon slices into your flesh once more.

A scream curdles in your throat, stifled by the hand still collaring your neck, his mouth latching over the wound to lap at the blood. Searing pain radiates from the site, shooting along your jaw and shoulder, and your spine arches off the mattress, struggling beneath his body.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you’re sobbing out, the plead spilling from your lips in a continuous sticky stream, letters tangled in threads of spit. “Please, Al—Master, please!”

Thunder rumbles up his throat and spills into the wound his tongue is prying open—a warning, or a denial, you can’t be sure—as his hips keep you pinned to the bed, his thighs spreading yours wide, his knees sinking into the mattress.

You’re trapped under him, helpless and vulnerable to his vicious attack as his lips pucker and his tongue wiggles and his teeth scrape, collecting you beneath their edges. The agony is excruciating as he devours you, as you thrash and cry and tremble pathetically, your efforts entirely in vain and failing to deter him at all, your ceaseless struggling barely a hitch in his routine.

“Please, please, please,” your chanting, bloated tears weighting your lashes, lids fighting to stay open. “Please, Sir, it—it—Stop!”

A roar ruptures in his throat, rough and loud, and he yanks himself away from his meal, raising his head to glare at you.

“Have you forgotten your purpose, pet?” he spits, flecks of your blood splattering across your cheeks, a smatter of crimson freckles. “Hmm?”

A large hand twines around your jaw and squeezes, hard enough that your cheeks hollow and your mouth puckers. His claws dig into your face as he forces you to look at him, his nose brushing your own.

“Does Master need to make you write it out a hundred times, again?”

“No,” you weep, head trembling in a poor imitation of a shake, still locked in place by his bruising grip.

“Then what is it? Why do you exist?”

“To serve you.”

“How?”

“In—In any way you want me to, Master.”

“Exactly,” he purrs, but the word is razored, teetering on the edge of vitriolic. “So be a useful little pet, like you’re supposed to, and let Master take what he owns, what he’s owed.”

And so, you do.

Because you’re nothing if not faithfully, blindingly obedient to your owner.

His grip relaxes, and your jaw raises, neck bowing off the sheets, offering itself to him unabashedly—your body, your blood.

Something nefarious spreads across his face, stretched smile curling at the edges as it reaches his eyes, a malicious little melody playing on the back of his tongue.

He takes a moment to admire your sheer obedience, your willing and unwavering faith him him, a claw tracing the newest injury, leaving behind a shallow outline in your flesh.

A whimper falls from your lips, but you don’t dare to look away from him, even as the tears lacquering your eyes finally overflow again, streaming down the sides of your head to collect in your hairline.

“Good girl,” he says, and although his voice is soft, the compliment is sharp—mean, mocking, hardened by a layer of patronization.

“Th-Thank you, Sir.”

And then he’s plunging his tongue back in, mouth sealing over the wound tightly, another shrill squeal clawing at your throat. Yet despite the white-hot pain it inspires, his saliva stinging the new contour, you do your best to hold still, to be good, body quivering with the immense effort.

“Christ,” he mutters, the word muddled with blood as he rubs his mouth into the cut. “Your suffering is so fucking delicious.”

His statement is so sick, tinged with a vile sort of pleasure that churns your stomach, acidic bile collecting on the back of your tongue, the revolt so overwhelming that you almost don’t feel it, twitching against your hip as it fills with blood, hot and hard and straining as his pelvis beings to shift, rutting in irregular little motions.

For a moment, you can barely believe what’s happening, mind numb with terror and shock. For a moment, your mind refuses to believe what’s happening, scrambling to scrape together some sort of patchwork excuse for this behaviour—maybe he was just moving to get more comfortable; maybe it meant nothing at all—but the rutting fails to cease, uneven and unskilled, a moan shuddering his breathing, and your body freezes beneath him.

If he notices, he doesn’t seem to care, the rocking of his hips never slowing, another muffled sound of pleasure soaking into your skin.

They’re sweltering against your neck, those little noises of ecstasy, every soft moan and cracked whine and hoarse grunt huffed out damp and humid, beading in little dewdrops on your marred skin.

“M-Master,” you gasp before you can stop yourself, wiggling a little beneath him to confirm your suspicions and whimpering when his cock throbs in response. “You—You’re—It’s—”

“What?” he pulls back slightly, chest rising and falling against your own with ragged little breaths. Something smug plays with the corners of his smile, twinkles of sadism shining bright in his eyes.

He’s going to make you say it.

Your gaze flees his own—it’s too intense, eyes watering with a fresh bout of tears, pins of embarrassment pricking your cheeks. “It’s—”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

Immediately, your stare snaps back to his, wide and submissive.

“It’s hard,” you force words from your tongue, the admission fading to a shameful whisper, face twisting in a wince as if the letters slashed your tongue.

“What is?”

“Master—” you flounder, head shaking a little.

“Go on,” he urges, grinding his hips into yours, slow and purposeful. “Tell me. You’re a big girl.”

“Your cock,” you nearly whine, eyes squeezing shut, fat tears leaking from the seams. “Your cock is hard.”

“It’s your fault, you know,” he murmurs, tongue rolling over your cheek thoughtfully, leaving watery streaks of blood smeared in its wake, mopping up the salt and swallowing it down, growling a little. “Crying out in pain like that.”

“Alastor,” you sob out, head shaking in messy little motions. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“It’s quite cute, the way you’re trying to act as if you don’t love this,” he muses airily, another gust of tangy metal nipping your nose as it wafts across your face, his forehead resting against your own.

Inhaling deep and measured, his ribs expand against yours, sharp bones digging into soft flesh, a gentle tremor coursing through his form as he nestles his face into your own, noses bumping together.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I know you too well.”

His thigh hitches higher, wedged tightly between your legs, shoved up against your cunt, the abrupt action eliciting a gasp, your eyes snapping open to search his own.

“I can smell your arousal, silly,” he says, voice low and smooth, nose tracing along your soiled cheek until his lips are at your ear. “In fact, it’s so strong that it’s overwhelming your blood.” A chuckle reverberates along the cartilage. “I know my pet is a nasty little girl.”

Barbs of humiliation flush through your body, fiery and stabbing through your veins, and he laughs again, a dark and wicked strain that vibrates from his chest into yours.

“Now,” he begins, the word slimy against your ear. “You’re going to be a good little girl for me and let your Master finish his meal.”

It isn’t a question, nor is it a request—it’s an order, and it’s an order he knows you’re desperate to obey.

Because, really, you live for him now, don’t you? Live to please him, to serve him, to make him proud. Because you’re nothing without him now, aren’t you? All of your self-worth wrapped up in your Owner, all of your purpose derived from him, all of your validation sitting heavy on his tongue, desperate to suck those vague compliments and shallow praises from his lips, to swallow them whole, always ravenous for more.

Because you’re just as greedy as he is, in a way. And he knows it.

And he loves it.

His hand wraps around your throat again, pressing his claws into the delicate flesh slow and forceful and procuring new trickles of blood, cascading down your neck in ribbons of crimson.

A groan spills past his lips as he nuzzles his cheek into the tiny wounds, daubing his face with you while his hips begin to increase in speed and force.

Starched cotton chafes the wound on your stomach as he humps away at you, the thin, firm muscles sculpting his thigh flexing against your cunt with each of his movements.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you’re weeping, stuttered by the hiccups catching in your chest.

“Aw, does it hurt? Huh?” he lifts his head slightly, glowing eyes scouring your face with voracity. “Am I—f-fuck—hurting you?”

The rolling of his hips judders a little as you bawl out a confirmation, gnarled and weighted with spit on your sloppy tongue, a whiny hiss sucked through the gaps of his clenched teeth.

It all hurts so much, the grinding of his shirt against the slits he’s carved into you and the rubbing of his thigh against your sensitive cunt and the digging of his tongue into his newest infliction.

It all hurts so much, but you don’t shove him off, don’t push at his shoulders or kick at his hips, arms winding around his shoulders and clutching, a leg entwining with his own, knee hooked over the back of his.

Sharp teeth bury themselves in the fresh slash, persistently oozing on your neck right above your jugular, and gnaw at the borders, raw skin splitting further beneath their razored edges. Another scream gurgles wetly in your throat, mangled by a sob, his responding gruff sound of pleasure seeping into the wound he’s feeding on, white-hot and buzzing.

The hair framing your temples is saturated with dense salt, the strands beginning to crust and dry in flat little knots against your skin, casualties of the beading sweat and ceaseless tears.

The flesh of your cheeks feels heated and sore, gone tight from the thick streams of dried tears that stain them, tiny remnants of salt streaking your face.

He must be getting close already, snarls panted out against your shoulder, uncoordinated movements accelerating with each noise you make, faster and faster and faster until finally his teeth sink into your unmarred shoulder, a shriek piercing the atmosphere as his hips stammer, grinding hard, and then still.

A vicious shudder courses through his entire form as his cock throbs, body rippling beneath the force of it. Hot cum fills his trousers, sticky and thick and so, so much, viscous dollops leaking through the fabric. It’s tacky and blazing against your hip, the little jolts of his pelvis rubbing it in crude bands across your skin.

Your fingers tighten, clinging to him, desperate for the comfort only he can bring, even as his strong jaw flexes and his teeth burrow deeper into soft flesh, embedded at least an inch or more, his tongue laving in messy strokes over the blood-slicked skin bunched between his lips.

“Master, Master, Master,” you’re sobbing into him, his breath harsh and stinging against the bite.

Everything aches, muscles pulled taut from agony and anticipation, heavy with tension. Tiny pricks of pain erupt across your body in waves, conjured with each brush of his clothing. Sobs and screeches have left your throat ripped open, every rush of air feeling like an inhalation of razor blades.

You’re still speaking, still chanting out his honoured title, but your ears have gone numb, your own voice unrecognizable, nothing more than a distinct vibration in your chest.

It’s only when his cock is beginning to soften that he finally dislodges his teeth from your body, licking over the carvings of his mouth once, twice, three times for good measure before his head raises to look at you.

The sight is stunning, kicks the breath from your lungs and the fog from your brain, attention suddenly honed on him, tuned into his frequency.

Strokes of crimson paint his jaw in messy smears, his tongue licking lazily at the blood coating his chin, streaking it further. It’s almost artful in a sickeningly intimate way, how he’s been glazed in you, your blood staining the lines of his teeth and the curves of his gums, his skin shimmering with his own diluted drool.

His breathing is still frayed, cedar dyed with pungent copper breezing over your face in gentle huffs. A knuckle skims along your cheek, gaping gaze following it’s trajectory, his claws varnished a glittering scarlet, only a shade or two brighter than their natural colour.

“See?” he pants out, question airy on his tongue but infused with malice, eyes refocusing on your own. Something sinister tugs at the corners of his lips, broad smile stretching impossibly wider, peaked edges of his mouth nearly nudging his lower lashes. “Was that so difficult?”

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin smut #tw:blood #inky.alastor #inky.hazbin

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slutforalastor · 21 days

Note

you never thought this day might come, sat down with the Radio Demon's head in your lap, his gaze lazy and half-lidded as he allows you, generously, so generously, to touch the pronged antlers that extend from the top of his head. His lips pass soft white noise as you run a finger from the base to the tip of his antlers, the vibration that you can feel beneath the hard exterior somewhere between the hum of a domestic appliance and the throb, throb, throb of a heartbeat

You can feel Alastor's shoulders tense up whenever you put too much pressure on them, his calm breathing briefly interrupted every time you push his sensitivity past his tolerance. Each time you find yourself being too exploratory, you correct yourself back to the safety of gentle strokes, letting your fingertips soak in the unique texture. They are somewhere between the firm smoothness of exposed bone, like his teeth when they drag across the topmost layer of your skin, leaving perfect streaks too shallow to bleed, too pronounced to refute their creator, and the spongy give of delicate flesh. You know the trust he's imparted to you to be given this kind of access; not only does he so limit incoming touch, but resents any reminder of his reincarnation as a prey animal.

"I'm surprised you're okay with this," you murmur to him, so unwilling to compromise the sanctity of this moment.

"Only because it is you," Alastor assures you, his tone just as hushed.

You continue, relishing in this opportunity. You explore every hook and divot of the black extensions, marveling at the current of demonic energy that pulses through them. It was your impression that they only grew when Alastor was angry, but not quite: any overwhelming passion, be it joy, theoretically speaking, or fear, or sadness, and they will billow out. You wonder if you can elicit such a response. Your opening gambit is strong: you lean into his ear, whispering "If anyone else were to do this, you'd tear them apart, wouldn't you?"

"For even less than this, dearest. I'd assumed that was obvious."

"But not me?"

"But not you."

"Maybe I want you to tear me apart, love."

The first sign; you feel a shift through the skeletal system they're connected to, a tremor of recognition, of sudden awoken desire.

"I'm sure you just aren't aware of what you're asking for."

"No, I'm all too aware. You want something deeper, too, don't you? It can't be enough just to meet in such a temporary union, only to separate. I want you to bring a little piece of me along with you, knowing you've claimed more than just one part of me, but any you desire."

He shudders, deeper this time, and you feel growth. Sharp edges and deeper curves sprout like curling ivy where there had once been certain ends, like a blossoming tree bursting into life. Your loving strokes down the length of his antlers grow deeper, more pronounced, almost incessant.

"What game are you playing at?" Alastor pants, his breathing hitching every time you push against them with any kind of firmness.

"I love seeing what you do."

His body has seized, but doesn't do anything else. You can feel the efforts of the sinew across his back against your lap. Best of all are his facial expressions; his initial contentment has evolved, firstly into surprised, the edges of his bladed grin peeking out from his thin lips, his eyes squinted and playful. Now it's become a look of desire, his mouth open slightly, droning a steady song with no melody but a captivating refrain, nonetheless. His eyes plead with you; so uncharacteristic, for him to be putty in your hands. To think you could hold the high ground in any situation, much less as a result of this.

"Don't toy with me," he warns, but his voice doesn't sound assured. It sounds needy, like a request for more.

"I would never, love."

"Then end this teasing," he begs.

You do as he asks, taking your hands away from his antlers. With some strain, he manages to get his breathing back under control, his antlers receding like the retreating tide, back to their typical size. "Did you enjoy yourself?" you wonder, after he's calmed himself.

He looks at you with mischief etched in his features. "Not as much as I'm sure I will soon enough." ~~~

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x you #antlerplay

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rednotebooksworld · 6 months

Note

A Fae MonsterFucker Mini-Fic, as a little treat~

Androgynous “pretty Boi” Fae Monster looking for a suitable Mate.. and one Human girl looking to snag herself a Fae husband because she grew up with the old tales of women being whisked away by the terrifying but gorgeous “neighbors” of the old wood~ who were supposedly never seen again, unless someone caught a glimpse of her fully pregnant when walking with her Fae lover..

She’s not to fond of the nosy towns people that live down the hill, her Aunt’s a known Fae fucker too, so can you really blame her for not seeing a down side to this?

The Human girl who lives with her kind but sassy “mouth of a sailor” Auntie, spending most her days in the garden (in perfect view of the forest) while singing songs of Fae Lovers and twirling in her short dresses as she waters her favorite flowers.. knowing the Fae love to dance and spin in circles~

Her aunt smirking at her niece playing up the innocent role, knowing her little plot is working as she notices the circle of mushrooms growing under her niece’s bedroom window.. a Fae Lover has chosen her already.

The brooding Fae who watches the human girl with longing possessive eyes, waiting for the chance to show himself, to trick her into being his and his only.. All he needs is her to willingly give her Name to him, and make a deal~

The Fae seizing his opportunity when he sees her in the woods alone for the first time, a sad look on her pretty face..

He relishes the look of awe in her eyes at his appearance.. a long slender framed body with pale green skin, sharp black nails on his fingers, sharp teeth in his charming smile, long ears, large glowing golden eyes and dark green hair flowing around him in waves as leafs and flowers adorned his locks like gems, dear-like antlers glittering like opal moonstones resting above his brow like a crown, and flowing robes of thin green silk that fell off one shoulder and left little to the imagination.. a splendid sight to be see for sure~

“Sweet, lovely thing~ why the tears? Tell me what ails you.. and I shall make all pleasant as warm honey with your heart~ for a price~”

gently he held her chin up with a single finger, grin turning wide as a Cheshire as she grasped his larger hand softly in her own with pleading doe eyes and rosy cheeks~

“M-My aunt.. she’s sick.. she’s all the family I have.. I.. I don’t know what to do.”

He knelt down as his figure cast a tall shadow over her, as he realized she wore only her lace nightgown, My how perfect she looks gazing up at him so intently like that..

“Give me your Name, my dearest, and swear to me and me alone your first night.. and your first born~ I shall see to it your Aunt recovers and lives all her days healthy and strong… perhaps a long life as well~”

He could feel how she trembled at his words.. but he had yet to see any fear in her as her gaze turned heavy, giving up Her Name to him without hesitation..

“I swear it~ you may take my heart if it pleases you, my lord~”

He growled as she spoke those delicious words to him.. how sweet.. how delicious…. How curious was she~ a fine Mate for him indeed~

He slowly laid her down on her back as he hovered over her, his long luscious hair falling around them as he kissed her tenderly with honeyed passion, her precious moans tingling his ears as he raised a slender hand up her legs, lifting her dress skirt, only to rip her underwear clean off!

He could smell her arousal burning his nose, how sweet and inviting a scent as he bit her lips and grasped her breast as he shoved two fingers in her wet pussy and started stretching her wide with his fingers.. using his fingers to fuck her with skilled precision, only pulling his lips away from their kiss as she cummed on his hand.. her red lips gasping for breath~

“Tell me, my delicious little human~ what sickness has wrought your dear Aunt, that you would have me RAVAGE you~ make you MINE and Ruin you to any other pathetic male that would dare look at you~”

He quickly shoved his thick cock into her tight and dripping pussy right as she opened her mouth.. a guttural shriek the only thing she could muster as he slammed into her three times, filling her till they were hip to hip.. though he refused to move again till she gave him an answer~

She hastily wrapped her arms around his neck, roughly kissing him with pure hunger as she then gripped his horns and intwined her legs with his.. he froze at the look of predatory lust in her eyes.. My what a new and interesting development this turned out to be~

She weekly fained an innocent look, though she no longer bothered to make it convincing..

“Oh~ terrible allergies I’m afraid~ I feared she might never breathe properly again..”

His Golden eyes turned black as his Cheshire grin returned with glee at hearing this.. she..

SHE.. TRICKED.. HIM??

Ooooh ho ho ho ho~ A Mate this clever and patient was truly worth the wait~ he’ll be sure to reward her for that one~

He began pounding her at full force, her head rolling from side to side against the grass below as her grip tightened on his horns~ shoving his face into her neck he started to fill her with his seed~ Breeding her for as long as he desired.. after all.. thay made a deal. He will have her first Born~ and every single child he fucks into her pretty womb after that~

“Clever little Mate~ you wanted to be Bred like this? Didn’t you.. to be made a Fae’s Bride? Answer me! MY MATE! Or else I won’t fuck my brood in you~”

“Y-YES!! YES!!! Oh Yes!! I-I want this!! Please~ Breed me! MY LOVE!! P-PLEASE!!!!”

He purred at her, declaring her Love to him, to a Fae~ before he even finished Mating her~

He decides to do what not many of his kind do anymore.. Truly claims a Human as his one and only Mate~ instead of just Fucking her once.. he’s Fully going to be Breeding her to completion~

His Mate.. His Bride.. His Breeding Mother.. HIS… she’s HIS!!!

By the time she walks out that forest~ her legs tremble with every step, her dress dirty, stained with grass and the smell of sex, though it takes some time to realize she DID NOT in fact spend just a single night with her Fae Lover.. in fact he was Breeding her for a full week straight, and not long after till she starts to notice a new point at the tips of her ears..

She turns around, Smiling lovingly out at the edge of the forest as she rubs her barely round belly.. the Golden eyes of her Love grinning back at her~

Her Aunt soon emerging from their home to congratulate her, as she herself just returned from spending a few nights with her own husband…. The very kelpie that lives in the lake just behind their little cottage…

“… So.. your uncle wants to know if you invited your new Husband over for dinner? Or is he just going to keep fucking you in the woods??”

The girl turned to smile mischievously at her Aunt, unfazed by her later question..

“Yes! I did, He’s coming by a little later, he wanted to grab a few flowers for the baby first.. and also yes he will~ he’s a truly remarkably skilled Lover~ among other things~”

Her Aunt started cackling as she lead her niece inside for a nice warm bath, and then some tea and fruits for the growing babe.

“Oooh~ got a feisty one did you? Good girl! Perhaps that taste runs in the family after all!”

Sheeeesh! This is so good 😭

Hot too 😏

Claps for you 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucker #monster smut #monster fucking #fae #fae husband #fae x human #fae x reader #monster lover

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diejager · 2 months

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Imagine that the hybrid 141 was getting a teammate and that teammate was a hybrid and Laswell wanted it to be a surprise for the team what they are as in hybrid was and soon as they get off the aircraft and onto the tarmac, the boys realize that they’re with another dragon hybrid and her “heat” would be soon upon her (dark blue in to black better for stealth or, whatever you prefer, she also has her wings) how would the boys handle that you can take the story anyway you want

This… I might make it self-indulging because this idea has been clawing at the back of my mind for a long while. Cw: mating/heat cycle, fire/water magic, tell me if I missed any.

Laswell had Price wait for the surprise she had planned, the secret she kept from them when they received your file. It had all he asked for in attributes and skills, but all things personal that should have been on it were scratched out in black. He was told that it was a need to know basis, your name, age or species wouldn’t be divulged unless you told them yourself. He knew you from words from mouth to ear, ad read of your skill and efficiently but nothing he heard and found told him an ounce about you as a person. Your character was a mystery he died to know.

So when he got word from Laswell that your ETA was just over half an hour, he had the boys reconvene to the airstrip, watching the aircraft carrying you land not too far from them, the rotors slowing to a steady thrum. The anticipation that bubble din his chest made this moment crawl at a snail’s pace, the ramp lowering too slowly for his liking and the droning sound of the aircraft’s irking his ears. Then, seconds after the ramp fully dropped, he caught sight of blue horns, tines growing from a singular robust beam, segmented like those of a scale. Your head, covered by a custom made helmet to let your antlers peek out and sit comfortably on your head (at least you wore something, unlike his constant frustration with finding one that wouldn’t bother his horns), followed after you walked out, decked in your gear and a bag slung over your shoulders.

You weren’t what he was expecting, not exactly. He read that you had a masterful experience in hydromancy, stealing water from the air and humidity and contorting it to cause havoc in the field and cutting through the enemy. He and the others shared their theories, one possibility made you into a water witch, a leviathan, or one of those creepy monsters from the deep sea. Not what… whatever you were. You had elk-like horns painted in the deepest blue he’d ever seen and a tail covered in scales of the same shade, glistening under the light like it was wet with tufts of hair - or was it fur? - crawling down the base of your fourth limb to create a silky and soft end with long, slowing locks.

What were you? What was that smell? It got sweeter the closer you got, a softness that clung to his nose and made him salivate. He wondered how strong it must be for the Soap and König who’s noses were more enhanced and sensitive than any others, they’d probably sniff the source - you - out and answer his undying question.

“Captain Price,” you nodded your head, a small smile gracing your lips, your slitted eyes narrowed in greeting, “Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

That sweetness lingered around you and stuck to his hand when you shook hands, giving him a firm shake and stronger grip that he could admire for the strength you showed. Had you face been as bright as it was a few seconds before? Perhaps it was the musk that oozed off you, it was uneasily addicting and pleasing to his lizard brain, slowly moving the cogs of hos old machine. He watched you take a step back, making some distance between his Task Force and you, and his mind got clearer, nose less stuffy and cheeks wash away the slight flush. Then it hit him, the sweetness, the dazed perception of you and the growing need in his body, he was reacting to you.

“Sorry, I was told I’d be off for the week once I landed,” you cocked your head, sharing an apologetic smile, “My cycle follows the Lunar year.”

Ah, everything made more sense now, the gracefulness of your beautiful tail, the glistening of your scales and the sharpness of your horns. He had agreed to welcome another dragon to his Task Force, he was fortunate that Asian dragons were calmer and benevolent than his European counterpart.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #captain price #price x reader #mw2 ghost #soap mw2 #gaz mw2 #konig mw2 #horangi mw2 #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #Dragon!reader #monster 141 #monster cod au #monster 141 au #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #kortac

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hazbinruebry · 2 months

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Good god did I get sidetracked with this 💀

Originally I just wanted to do the stupid shitpost but then it got me curious enough to do an alastor demon form redesign (which I decided to fully render because I am insane) - some info on my interpretation under the cut teehee

Bonus: The actual dumbass drawing I wanted to do

the v in vox stands for very delusional

And I'm ngl I was kinda disappointed by Alastor's canon demon form, I was hoping to see him more animalistic like some of the other demon transformations but the only real thing he had was the growing antlers LMFAO (they were cool though so I kept them ofc)

my hc is that his hair goes from the neat trim to more wild and fluffy when he transforms, plus the rest of his body gets some fur, tho for aesthetics I just combined them with the sleeves and pant legs

plus I made the tendrils flare out from under the coat instead of being on his back cause like?? They just looked odd to me idk

#radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune #vox x alastor #alastor x vox #voxal #alvox #<- one-sided #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin art #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel redesign #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #my art

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deeranon · 2 months

Text

Troubling Travels | deer! Creator reader

Note: I’m kinda bad at writing fight scenes. Or…are there no fight scenes at all? :)

For @idkfitememate Hope you like it :D

╔⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤╗

Cyno cursed like his life depended on it. Tighnari was going to kill him if he ever found out about this. That was, if he made it out alive, first.

It had started out like any other day. You were happily gathering leaves and sticks for your secret little hoard(that wasn’t very secret, Tighnari knew about everything) of weapons (that were not actually weapons) to be used on Dottore if he ever thought of stepping foot anywhere near Collei or Tighnari or any Sumeru character ever. Minus the sages, they were also going to be victims of your mighty stick-hoard if you ever saw them. (Yes, you were peaceful but some things could not be forgiven.)

Tighnari had given you the nickname “ورقة الشجر الصغيرة”, little leaf, a few weeks after you had persistently stuck around even after you had healed from the treasure hoarder attack. And it stuck surprisingly well. Now, as of today, you were unofficially-but officially in the hearts of all Gandharva Ville residents—“منظم الأوراق الرسمي وجامع الأوراق الرسمي”, the official leaf organizer and collector. As a sort of celebration for your “promotion” Tighnari had asked Cyno to come visit during your “first ever official leaf collecting mission” in a letter he had sent a few weeks back. Indeed, Tighnari had planned to promote you for some time now. But it was hard keeping you distracted while they secretly set up a surprise party. But they managed to succeed in the end.

The entire village was decorated with various flower garlands(all given the green light by Tighnari) and tables were filled to the brim with tasty food for both humans and deer. People chatted animatedly with one another as they ate and danced. You were content to stand on the sidelines with Collei, eating a delicious salad while the forest rangers weaved you and their friends flower crowns. Seeing others happy made you happy.

The promotion party went well into the evening, with multiple excursions led by you to gather more fruit from the forest.(Tighnari was so proud that you remembered which fruits he told you were safe to eat and which were not) And when Cyno arrived with his ever neutral looking beautiful face, you were sure you were about to faint from happiness.

You had pranced up to him with a specially made flower bracelet just for him. Okay-YOU didn’t make it, Collei weaved it for you because trying to make a flower bracelet with hooves is hard. Sometimes, you missed your hands. But this form had its perks. Like the headpats you got and the wonderfully therapeutic back rubs when Tighnari brushed your fur for you. But you certainly deserved points for somehow communicating to your dear friend Collei that you wanted to make a bracelet for someone. The purple flowers probably helped.

Cyno looked down at your happy doe-face, or as happy as a deer could look with a deer-face. You were preening so much Cyno swore he saw sparkles emanating from you. You held the flower bracelet on the top of your fluffy head between the place where your antlers were starting to grow in. It was made of purple dahila’s and anemones, he noted before picking the bracelet up and sliding it onto his wrist.

“Thank you, little one. I promise to keep it safe.” Cyno said, slowly reaching out a cautious hand. Like Tighnari had taught him to do with stray cats and dogs. Sure, you were a deer, but it still counted, right?

In reply, you let out a giddy bleat and shoved your head underneath his calloused hand with vigor. Cyno felt his lips twitch into a smile. This wasn’t your first time meeting Cyno, but he was always so busy enforcing the law as General Mahamatra that he rarely had time to visit. So time spent with the general was special. He was happy to know you were doing well. Tighnari wrote about you in his letters frequently.

You nuzzled into his touch for a moment longer before backing away and prancing off into the festivities, stopping to look back at him with an expectant look.

Come join me!

Cyno paused before following after you. He wasn’t one for large parties but you looked so happy that he couldn’t decline. Besides, Tighnari and Collei were chilling out somewhere, so he could always go find them after hanging out with you in the core of the festivities. Maybe then he could pick up on the Genius Invocation TCG match he was having with Tighnari and Collei last time he was here. Oh, and maybe he could teach you how to play? Wouldn’t that be something.

It was nightfall now. Everyone was tuckered out from the party, fast asleep in their beds. Well, all except for two people and a deer.

“You don’t have to see me off. You should go get some rest for tomorrow.” Cyno said, adjusting the strap that held his canteen to his belt. Both you and Tighnari sighed at this.

“It’s not like we’re forcing ourselves to see you off. We want to do this. And there’s nothing you can do to change our minds.” Tighnari huffed as he crossed his arms.

You stomped your hoof in agreement. You chose to see Cyno off in the middle of the night, even though you knew you had things to clean up tomorrow. You knew how rarely you had one on one Cyno bonding time, and Cyno was one of your favorite characters in Sumeru. His bravery and strength in the heat of battle was something you saw as admirable.

Besides, you never knew when you would see Cyno next, or if he would be okay on a mission. His job was dangerous, and sometimes that made you worry. If only you could go with him…

Wait a second.

You COULD go with Cyno!

While you were connecting the dots in your head, Cyno had gotten fully ready to head off. He gave Tighnari a nod before turning his attention to you, who stood at the fox-eared male’s side with the same happy expression you had on that evening. Cyno felt his heart squeeze at the sight. He would, admittedly, miss you while he was gone. This next mission was going to be a long one.

So, he kneeled down and gave you a gentle pat on the head. You let out a bleat and shoved your head under his chin(making him bite his tongue on accident) in a makeshift hug. Now would have been a nice time to have hands. But you were never one to complain much. Cyno gave a small smile and rubbed your back before starting to pull away. It was time for him to leave.

With a final delightful scratch behind your large fluffy deer ears, Cyno stood and started to walk away.

Only, he wasn’t alone.

You followed after him with a happy pep in your trot.

Cyno paused. Tighnari tried not to laugh. You shimmered like you had never shimmered before.

Cyno sighed and shook his head before pointing to the ground and stating “stay.” in his best commanding voice. Internally, Cyno knew it was futile attempting to order a deer around, when it obviously wasn’t going to understand him. You stared at him innocently. Cyno took it as a sign to start walking again. Only for you to follow(again).

This repeated multiple times. (Tighnari almost burst a lung from laughter, exhaustion was clearly getting to the usually calm and collected fox ranger)

“I think they want to go with you, Cyno.” Tighnari finally said. Cyno stared at Tighnari.

“Yes. I don’t think I noticed.” He huffed. You let out another call and ran circles around Cyno’s legs with excitement, and Cyno felt his heart soften. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to come with him, it was just that the desert was an incredibly dangerous place. Especially since you had no natural defenses. Not to mention your fur. You would bake like an egg on the sidewalk in the middle of a heatstroke in a matter of minutes. Cyno knew this, because Tighnari had the exact same problem. And he didn’t want to see you suffer.

Yet you seemed adamant about staying with him. Both could see that. Cyno didn’t know what to do. Should he find a way to keep you with Tighnari? Or let you follow him into the lonely desert?

Tighnari took Cyno’s silence as his cue to become the voice of reason. “I am not one for old tales, but it’s been said for hundreds of years that animals have an innate sense of danger. A sixth sense, even. Or sometimes called premonition. Whatever you want to call it, having a companion that can sense danger early on could be an invaluable asset to your missions, Cyno.” Cyno didn’t seem fully convinced. So Tighnari continued with a bit more seriousness than before. “Deer have around 297 million olfactory receptors, meaning their nose is better than any human’s or dog’s. Their eyes are also better than a human’s at night—and they detect movement faster than people, too. Deer can also hear high frequency sounds, and can move both ears in different directions at the same time. These assets are perfect for helping to track down thieves and rouges. And I’m positive you already know how intelligent little leaf is. Their level of understanding is basically unheard of.”

Cyno nodded, but his face was blank. “I know. But the desert is unforgiving to all. I’m just skeptical about how they might respond to the temperatures of the desert. I wouldn’t want them getting hurt if they can’t fight back.” You were after all, a deer. Sure, you had multiple advantages over Cyno in tracking abilities but you were still considered prey. It was a reasonable thought.

After all, how could they know that you were a human isekai’ed into a deer’s body?

But you were determined to go with Cyno. You rubbed your head into his legs pleadingly. As if to send the message that you would be alright.

Cyno instinctively ran his calloused hand through the fur on your neck, making you preen at the attention. You could tell he was standing on the edge of agreement. He just needed one last nudge.

“Let’s put it this way. I put the little leaf under your care and protection while in the desert so that you can help me record their reactions and adaptability in a different environment. They are, after all, an unknown species of deer. No deer recorded has natural markings like theirs in any document ever, so it’s imperative that we find out as much as we can about them so that we can learn more.” Tighnari reasoned, pointing to your lush furry coat that Cyno was carding through at that very moment. And he was correct. You did have a unique design. (Description below is optional)

Small splotches that looked almost like stars littered your neck and spine, with two small white diamond-like teardrops touching the corner of your eyes. Your eyes were more focused, like there was an actual thought going on inside your head instead of the soul devouring gaze a deer usually had. Your ears were fluffy and faded in an ombre fashion to an almost unnatural pitch black colour, as did your fluffy tail-except it faded to a snowy white. There was even a white four pointed star like the ones you see on a compass rose in the middle of your fluffy forehead.

Safe to say, you didn’t exactly look like a normal deer. “They could very well be the last of their kind, or they lost their parcel in some kind of accident before Collei and I found them. Whatever the case, we need more information to understand how we can help little leaf in the best way possible. Like putting protective laws up to keep them from harm.” Tighnari finished. And that seemed to convince Cyno immediately.

“Alright. I’ll bring them with me. And I swear on my life to keep them safe.” Cyno promised with a solemn nod. Tighnari huffed as he crossed his arms, smile barely hidden.

“You better. Now get going before I change my mind.” Tighnari snapped, making a ‘shoo’ motion with his hand. Cyno stood and gave another nod of respect before turning around and walking out of Gandharva Ville with you at his side. Just as you both walked out of earshot, and out of Tighnari’s sight, he murmured “Stay safe…” before turning around and heading for his hut. So that he could sleep his worries away.

And also because it was past midnight.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

You watched silently as Cyno set up camp behind a large rock that would block out most of the piercing grains of sand flying in the wind. It has been six days since you set off with the general mahamatra into the endless desert. And night was starting to fall. Which meant possible bandit attacks or wild animal attacks. Or maybe a mix of both. It was hard to tell these things before they happened. Minus bandit attacks. Cyno eliminated any human trouble before you could even catch a glimpse of the ruffians.

The wind howled ferociously at both you and Cyno, who seemed unfazed at the sand trying to stab into his eyes and turn him blind. And yet you almost didn’t feel the screaming wind yourself. Probably because of your wonderous coat of fur. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a headache to brush out later. It would add to Cyno’s work, which was already a hassle itself. Curse your lack of hands(once again). You watched as the sun slowly set and the sands cooled before your eyes, giving you reprieve from the sweltering heat. You were just glad you hadn’t grown your winter coat yet. That would have been a nightmare.

The night rose, eclipsing the golden sky as Cyno finished setting up the tent. Yet something felt off. Like when you glance at a picture and then leave, only to return and realize something is different about it but you can’t tell what it is. It was an unsettling feeling in the back of your head that wouldn’t go away.

Cyno seemed to feel it as well, his gaze was dead set on the hills of sand. You stared out at the vast sea, ears perked and swiveling like satellites. But there was nothing odd that you could sense, only the rising wind. You sniffed at the air next. Immediately your nose was rushed with a million different scents, all leading to something different than the last. It had greatly confused you when you first awoke to so many new smells, but over time it became easier to sort them out. Now, your nose was a valuable tool.

And right now, the air crackled with the scent of rain.

You let out a sigh of both relief and disappointment before trotting through the tarp entrance of the tent. Cyno continued to stare at the dunes with an unnerving gaze before turning to follow you inside. But not before grabbing his pike and surveying the area protectively. Just to make sure.

The wind was so angry and wild that you were almost certain your ears were going to bleed out. The rain had arrived with the sandstorm an hour after Cyno had managed to set the camp tent up, meaning you were both lucky enough to not get absolutely clobbered by the bullet-like water droplets.

You could hear nothing but the persistent rain and the raging wind of the midnight storm.

And that meant you couldn’t hear the footsteps approaching with each clap of thunder.

But Cyno knew every trick in the book. Nothing would escape his senses. Not when he had someone important to protect with him. You blearily watched as he tightened his grip on his weapon from where he sat with your fuzzy head in his lap, drowsy from exhaustion. He gently lifted your head from his legs, trading them out for the second of two blankets he had packed for the journey.

Next thing you knew, Cyno was rushing out of the tent like it had been set on fire.

Your mind was hazy from what little sleep you had mustered, so his reaction didn’t fully compute in your brain for multiple minutes before you rushed to your shaky legs. Having four legs instead of two had certainly been a challenge at first, and still was when you weren’t focused or completely energized. So you couldn’t help but berate yourself silently as you wobbled like a drunkard ready to pass out before you made it to the tent flap.

Outside, Cyno was fighting three mercenaries dressed in red in the rain at once. All had sun kissed skin and brownish-black hair, but they used different weapons, meaning Cyno had to duel three different battles all at once. One used a spear, the second had a crossbow with odd smelling arrows, while the third held a metal axe so big you were convinced it better belonged with a mitachurl.

Cyno swung his pizza paddle polearm through the air like it was an extension of himself, blocking a heavy swing coming from the axe-wielder with the shaft of his weapon that glowed amber in the dark night. A whistle sounded through the air as an arrow shot through the sky, bringing its horribly odd scent with it.

You watched, mortified at the realization that Cyno might get hit with what you now realized was an arrow tipped in poison. Time seemed to slow as Cyno turned his head at the sound of the arrow whistling while simultaneously swinging at the axe-wielder and striking him in his chest, ripping through the man’s skin like it was butter. The large man crumpled to the sand. But that wasn’t the end. Just as the arrow was about to strike Cyno’s shoulder, he let out a growl and electro crackled through the air.

“Futile!”

Cyno lunged forward and snapped the arrow into a thousand tiny pieces before leaping at the crossbow user and kicking the weapon out of his hands.

The man let out a yelp that turned into a scream as large bolts of bright purple lightning wracked his body. Cyno was holding the man’s shoulder in an iron grip, using himself like a taser. The male let out a final wail before he slumped over, either dead or unconscious.

For a single second, all was silent.

Then, there was a war cry piercing the air. The third man, the one with the spear, had jumped from the top of a rock and was plummeting down to Cyno with murderous intent.

But Cyno was not fazed.

“Your sins weigh upon your soul!”

There was a sudden explosion of light around Cyno as his vision burned bright in the endless pitch black night. His body was swathed in glowing purple binds that circled and looped into large claw-like hands sharper than any dagger or sword. Runes in an ancient unknown language were burned into the glowing cloth that snaked around his arms. The headpiece glowed with the same runes as eyes, now open and uncovered, shone with golden light. An ominous had aura surrounded Cyno as he called for the divine spirit to indwell him. Now, that aura turned into furious electricity that snapped and swatted at its enemies.

The man with the spear screamed as an elongated electro arm of Pactsworn Pathclearer reached out and grabbed him from mid air. He tried to use his spear to pierce the hand that held him, but it merely broke into minuscule shards the moment it even grazed the claws. In retaliation, it’s grip tightened significantly before it flung the man to the ground, where his head hit a rock with a sickening crack.

And just like that, the battle was over. Three bodies laid in the sand, defeated. There were no more attackers left for Cyno to defeat.

Or at least, that’s what Cyno thought in the second he had let his guard down. Electro fizzling out around him.

You knew otherwise.

Ten more figures emerged from beyond the dunes.

But you were more worried about the sniper with poison tipped arrows and a bow who was aiming right for Cyno at that very moment.

With a bleat, you rushed up the cliff side faster than you had ever run before. Rain still pelleted you like knives as thunder rumbled in the sky high above you. But you continued to run.

The sniper drew the bowstring to the tip of his mouth.

You scrambled to the top of the cliff on shaky legs, making a mad dash for the archer who was so incredibly focused on aiming he didn’t even notice the sound of your pounding hooves as they kicked up sand. Your body hidden in the blackness of night. He would never see you coming.

Cyno stood below, head whipping around as he looked for you frantically. The moon was halfway to approaching midnight but it was already almost pitch black. The rain was no help, either.

The best thing Cyno could do right now is focus on the incoming targets. Their footsteps against the sand were in no way trying to be hidden, and the sickening feeling Cyno was sensing set him on edge.

Cyno’s mind was a flurry of different emotions, but if he wanted to stay alive long enough to look for you and complete his mission, he had to focus on the fight in front of him. So he readied his spear and crouched, gathering all the energy he could into his legs as the waited for the enemies to strike.

Just like Cyno expected, they lunged for him with weapons in hand in a consecutive attack. But Cyno was more than ready. After all, what kind of general mahamatra would he be if he couldn’t defeat ten people? Admittedly, he had never fought ten on one at the same time before and in almost total darkness while it stormed heavily. But there was a first time for everything, right?

The sniper smirked, homing in on his target with horrid mirth twinkling in his eyes. His comrades had surrounded Cyno in a circle, caging him in as he jumped from one fight to another. Though many were beaten and bruised, it did not matter if they fell. For they were merely a distraction so that he may make the shot that would end the wretched general mahamatra Cyno once and for all. His heart beat giddily in his ears as his fingers started to loosen their grip on the poison tipped arrow aimed right at Cyno’s heart.

Though it will not be beating for much longer his mind purred.

Pure thrill pulsed through his veins as he his fingers slowly slip from the bowstring. His heart beat spiked just as his fingers slid from the string, only to let out a mighty howl of pain as something crashed into his shoulder, sending him teetering on the cliff face, his right hand flailing and his toes grazed air. There was a snap as the bowstring thrummed against whatever crashed into him with such force. He let out a colourful string of curses when he realized his aim had been jarred into missing Cyno’s heart.

So when he looked down at the perpetrator:

he saw a deer.

His rage increased tenfold and he let out a furious yowl, gripping onto the creature’s neck as it rushed at him once again. It cried out as they both went careening off the edge of a tall cliff. But the man only smiled manically.

If he could not kill his target, he would take with him the life that tried to protect it. Even if it meant meeting his end.

“NO!”

There was a cry, but it was swept into the whistling wind.

There was a sharp pain in the back of his head.

Then, everything went dark.

Cyno huffed, glaring at the mercenaries with cold eyes as he tightened his grip on his polearm once again. Rain had somehow made it past his visor and onto his face, but he couldn’t care less.

He readied himself to fight once again when there was a loud scream echoing through the desert.

Only seconds after, an arrow shot through the air.

Slicing off Cyno’s bracelet of flowers.

There was another cry. But it was inhuman. Cyno whipped around, heart racing as his eyes caught sight of a man dragging you off of a cliff so high he knew there was likely no chance you were going to survive the fall alive.

“NO!” He screamed, rushing forward. Maybe he could catch you before you hit the ground. But it was futile. The ring of mercenaries would not let him leave.

His wrist felt horribly bare without the bracelet there to occupy it.

Cyno cursed like his life depended on it. Tighnari was going to kill him if he ever found out about this. That was, if he made it out alive, first.

You closed your teary eyes tight as you and the man’s body tumbled through the air. The wind screamed and thunder wailed, and for a split second you could hear nothing. Everything around you was surely passing in a blur.

This was going to hurt. A lot. If you even made it out alive. But what could you do to stay alive and keep the man from getting killed? You didn’t mean to push him off the cliff!

Time seemed to slow as your mind rushed to think of any possible solution. But only scraps of a plan formed.

Whatever!

There isn’t enough time to plan!

Do something before you both die!

So you opened your eyes and winged it.

You bunched your limbs close to your chest and then kicked them straight into the insane man’s chest, making him wheeze but also sending him crashing into a miraculously small ledge head first.

You were accidentally sent flying into the open mouth of a large cave from the force you had put into the kick. A searing pain ripped into your shoulder as you started to loose altitude and fall to the cave floor. A rock had sliced your shoulder open, leaving a blood stain on the rock and a small waterfall of blood trickling down your fur. You let out a cry of pain as you tumbled into the ground blanketed by a thin layer of sand.

You were beaten, but you were alive! Hooray!

The world outside of the cave raged with almost killer intent as the storm grew worse and lightning started to strike as the wind screamed. It was best to stay in the cave until it cooled over, you wisely decided.

You lifted your head at the sound of rumbling from further within the cave, making your ears swivel and your nose twitch. If there was something dangerous deeper in the cave you would rather take your chances with the storm outside.

But all you could smell was the faint scent of dried herbs and burnt fire wood. Which wasn’t very normal for a cave at all. You knew it would be a better idea to stay near the mouth of the cave, but you were injured and your fur was uncomfortably wet and all you wanted at the moment was something to warm yourself up while you waited for the storm to end so that you could look for Cyno.

So with a great heave, you lifted yourself onto your four wobbly legs and adventured deeper into the cave. Your shoulder throbbed with spite as you moved, but you ignored it and continued on.

You limped through a long tunnel filled with iron ore and an unlit stove ,as well as crystals of all colours, making you silently awe at the sight as you passed into a wide cavern filled with luscious green trees and red vultures that hopped branch to branch. Rocks mysteriously started to float in the air the further you walked into the great cavern. As did a bright white light.

By the time you had reached the far end of the cavern, the light was almost blinding. You squinted to make out anything but the tunnel branching deeper into the earth would not yet reveal its secrets to you.

There was another rumble.

The scent of dried herbs grew stronger the longer you stood in front of the glowing tunnel, too nervous to move. A distant feeling of familiarity tickled the back of your mind as your eyes darted around the area nervously. The vultures seemed ignorant as the ground shook, so surely there was no danger nearby. You took a shaky hoof-step back as the walls started to tremble as well. Your ears went flat as you glanced back to the tunnel from whence you came.

Should you leave?

But you could still hear the roar of thunder outside, meaning the storm had yet to stop. No. You could end up getting killed in the storm if you weren’t careful. And your wound still throbbed. It was best to stay in the cave. Though maybe you should just stay near the entrance. Yes, that sounded like a good idea.

You turned your head back around only to be greeted with a long snout sniffing at your fur where the tunnel should have been.

You let out a bleat of surprise and jumped several feet in the air, heart racing.

Then, it hit you.

This was the tunnel to Apep’s den.

And right before you was Apep. Or—it’s head, at least. The tunnel was much too small for its large serpentine-like body to fully fit through.

Oh. So Apep was the one giving off the dried herb smell. That…made sense, actually.

Apep stared down at you with its large glowing eyes that lit up the earth in a gentle glow.

“It has been quite a long time since I have last seen you, Mother. I am overjoyed to know that you are alive and well after all this time.” Apep said, voice gentle and lulling. A stark contrast to what you had heard from behind a screen.

You could only stand shocked, unable to think.

Apep stared at your frozen form with a sad gaze, sighing through it’s nose sadly(if that was even possible). “Ah, I see you do not remember. But that is to be expected after all that happened back then.” Apep paused to lower it’s head to the ground and nudge your furry cheek gently with it’s own. “You are the Creator of Teyvat. So you are Divine Mother of all. Though how I see it, only the mighty dragons like myself should be allowed to call you Mother. For we were the first. But perhaps your tastes have changed over the time you were gone. Shall I call you Divine One, one of your many titles?”

Apep’s words barely made sense to you right now. But one thing you knew very well.

Apep had called you the divine creator of Teyvat.

But truly, you wanted nothing more than to just be called by your name. No tittle needed. Maybe it was because Apep’s words had yet to sink in or you didn’t wish to be put upon a pedestal. Or maybe because you were a truly kind being to all. (This was really starting to feel like one of the SAGAU! fanfictions you liked to read in your free time) (and also because you didn’t want Arlechino to come after you)

But how were you going to get that across to Apep?

You let out a bleat.

The lights all along Apep’s sides glowed in recognition as it’s eyes somehow grew kinder and happier.

“I understand. That is a lovely name. May I truly be allowed to call you by it?” Apep said. You nodded. You would like nothing more than for Apep to call your by name. “Very well. Now, how is it that we have come to meet after all this time?”

And so, you told Apep everything that happened in the past week.

And it had some very strong words to say about some things. But Apep promised that once the storm passed it would make sure you reunited with Cyno.

And you did. Cyno did not physically show the worry on his face but he never let you out of his sight for the rest of the mission. Even as he dragged an unconscious rouge researcher behind him with an iron grip.

It was also safe to say, Cyno got a good scolding from Tighnari when you returned to Gandharva Ville.

╚⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤╝

#genshin impact #deer #deer anon #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #tighnari #cyno #cynonari #collei #genshin apep #Apep #creator #creator!reader #deer! creator #this took way too long #how many words is this?#hope I did well

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smoke-and-silver · 5 months

Text

Rut Season Headcanons

feeding the people as promised 😔

General headcanons / all characters:

Horn/antler growth in real life animals increases exponentially during mating season, so I like to think that demon horns also increase in size during ruts.

They run hot during their cycle; flushed cheeks and blown pupils are common.

Certain animals actually “play wingman” to their siblings, helping them with courtships rather than competing with them, to increase the chance of family genes being passed on.

In line with this, the brothers shockingly fight less during rut, and are more likely to share MC during this time.

Heaven forbid a lesser demon makes a move during rut though, or there will be a brawl.

MC can calm them down and ask for mercy on the other demon’s behalf, thankfully.

Belphegor

Between his engorged horns and how much energy his cycle takes out of him, he has trouble holding his head up at times. He nods off more often during the season.

He has a deep heavy scent, something like oud or dark dark chocolate, that just surrounds him during rut. It’s a pleasant musk meant to appeal to mates; a hazy miasma that just melts your brains.

He’s so pliant the entire season. You can climb atop him any time you see him dozing somewhere and he’ll let you use him as long as you like.

The out-of-your-mind-horny hormones and drowsiness makes such a funny combination. He’ll be struggling to keep his eyes open and still climb on top of MC to mount up because they cooed at him and asked him to please them.

He’ll practically collapse right after but dammit he’ll get the job done.

It’s pretty entertaining how quickly they can rouse him just by offering themselves, really. Like waking a kid on Christmas morning, he’ll sit up even as his eyes have barely opened, all wobbly still as he reaches for MC or stumbles over to them.

He doesn’t have very flashy displays or colors like some demons, but he makes absolutely the most inviting nests. That combined with his little demon love perfume and the fact he really is just gorgeous to behold all stretched across the pillows full demon form–he still has a very strong appeal all his own.

Beelzebub

The most territorial during rut. Extra defensive of the house, his brothers, and MC. Definitely starts the most brawls with other demons at this time.

Sometimes it’s out of protectiveness, sometimes it’s to show off for MC, other times it’s just to blow off steam from how hormonal he is right now. He’s locking horns left and right.

Will straight up swing his horns or scuff the ground at other demons the way bulls do before they charge, to make them back off.

Rut is the only time lesser demons can’t appease him with an offering of food. All that’s on his mind right now is knocking skulls together and bending MC over the nearest piece of furniture.

He’s very insistent on making sure MC is fed, even more so than usual.

He can even be a little pushy with it, holding more food to their lips even as they struggle to chew what he’s already given them. He wants to see their stomach so full. It may be hard to convince him that they can’t eat any more.

I love the headcanon that he can rub his wings together to make noise the way some bugs do. I like to think it’s a hypnotic, polyphonic sound, like the tinkling of furin chimes. ( https://fb.watch/oSx4Q-bHBh/ )

The “song” can induce a pleasant daze if you don’t resist it. With everything willing and consensual of course, you could let him lay you down and take care of you for a while.

The iridescence on his wings grows more vivid during rut season, the tips taking on an almost stained glass look. With his big horns and more demonic features unveiled, he really is beautiful to see.

Asmodeus

We know he handles it the best. He retreats to his room with tea and slippers and chocolate and handles the hormonal storm like a pro. Though, there’s moments where he’s clearly straining, taking deep calming breaths that sometimes come out shaky.

He breaks now and then, even after centuries of practice, when no amount of self-care and happy thoughts can soothe the boiling heat inside of him.

Those nights, he just cycles through every toy and wand he owns, unable to keep himself sated for long without help. If MC accepts his invitation they will be there all night.

Like Belphegor, he has some pheromones going on, though much less intense–more like a natural perfume.

A heady scent like honey clings to his skin. It’s warm and he smells like sex incarnate–fittingly.

Absolutely no sparring or clacking horns. Demons who challenge him get ignored. If someone threatens MC or his brothers at this time he’ll just skip the brawl and slice them open with his claws. You’re reminded that even if he isn’t interested in the usual rut fights, he is absolutely still an effective killer.

His main mating display is preening and adorning both himself and his person of interest–so, not too different from his usual shows of love, really!

Though, his bubbly demeanor melts away to something much more sultry. He’s less playful and far more direct with his flirtations now. His gaze is so heated and his words are slower and dripping with need.

Where he would typically propose some cheerful invitation or giggle through some innuendos, during rut he’ll put his hands over MC’s, and look at them with half-lidded eyes, and tell them exactly what he’d like to be doing together right now.

Satan

Oh his face is so flushed and lovely during rut. A permanent blush on his pretty cheeks the whole season.

He can’t focus on anything. His mind is clouded and his whole body feels so hot. All he wants to do is bury himself in MC and taste their lips.

Naturally pretty good at avoiding fights though, with how practiced he is at keeping his temper down and controlling himself. No demon has the nerve to challenge him to spar anyways.

Bets are off if MC asks him to challenge someone, though. They murmur in his ear that they’d like to see him put on a show and a thrill runs through him, tail flicking around and his breath quickening. RIP the nearest demon.

MC can straight up sic him on people like an attack dog while he’s in rut. He won’t pick any fights himself, but he’s eager to display his strength for them if they ask.

It’s okay; demons are good sports about it. Everyone fights everyone during rut. No hard feelings.

The amped up demon forms are out all season. It’s too much to maintain a human glamour while your hormones are raging. Not only do his horns swell but a second, smaller pair appears. His blue eyes deepen like a storm rolling over the sea and a small, ephemeral flame can almost be seen flickering above his head, depending on the light.

He’s the biggest on scenting. Any chance he gets he’s nuzzling on MC or burying his face in their hair. He loves breathing in their scent and he loves leaving his behind on them.

Probably the most forward with his advances. At some point he’ll just herd MC into his room, even bumping them, gently, with his horns once or twice to urge them forward, then lock the door behind them and enjoy them for a few hours.

Leviathan

Fantastic at nesting. Could honestly just make a little love nest to hide away the whole season if MC agreed to it.

Those little spots/scales going up his neck on his demon form are definitely bioluminescent during this time. His horns reach higher and branch out more.

Probably one of the more likely ones to get into a brawl, actually. He’s a jealous bitch who was coaxed into a fight over a game show. Now imagine this is his mate we’re talking about, and combine that with raging rut hormones.

It’s less of a fight and more of a mauling, though. T’is the season for everyone to be reminded that he is the 5th most powerful demon alive. The few demons willing to challenge him are absolutely mangled. He shreds them in mere moments.

He loses some of his shyness in the desperation for relief. His body is aching to be touched and there’s only so much he can handle before he pulls MC in and tells them what he needs right now.

There’s so many love bites. Their skin is so soft and he can’t help but nip at them in those heated moments. If they don’t mind it, he’s more fond of marking than scenting.

Typically he’d be embarrassed about hickies or love bites showing on MC, but he’s extra possessive during rut and his sin is soothed knowing that they’re walking around with clear marks from him for any competitors to see.

Mostly he just wants them close, held snug against him, wrapped up in each other.

Mammon

He'll brawl for MC, but no one is willing to challenge him. He is unbelievably powerful. Rut makes him so frightening that even the witches usually chasing him avoid him for the season.

Also, he’s more focused on pleasing MC than dueling other demons, so he doesn’t get into many sparring matches.

His spiraling horns elongate and gently curve back like those of an eland. It's hard to keep his wings tucked away when he wants to show them off for his partner so badly.

He’s already down to bone at a moment’s notice on a normal day, but during his cycle? Mans is desperate. He’s squirming in his seat whenever he sees MC, fidgeting and biting his nails, until they can slip away together.

If MC is in reach, his hands are on them; on their knee or feeling up their thigh, anything to feel them.

When they aren’t nearby he pleasures himself just to get relief. His libido is usually high, and during his cycle it’s off the charts. MC could keep a tally of how many times they’ve caught him in the act, though it usually leads to them joining him.

His main form of display is gifts, of course. Not just flashy things; he brings MC snacks and tidbits throughout the day, or their bag or keys or a hoodie to stay warm because hey it’s chilly out today, or whatever he thinks they need at that moment.

It’s nesting behavior, with him constantly checking in to ask if they’re hungry, cold, comfortable, ect.

He wants to show that he can provide even without money. He’s an ancient beast who’s been prowling the three realms since before grim or bank accounts–or debt collectors–even existed. If he’s there, MC is taken care of. End of story.

There’s nowhere he shows that best, especially when rut is making his heart race and his blood feel like fire in his veins, than in the bedroom. All MC has to do is ask, at any time, and he’ll eagerly show them how generous he can be.

Lucifer

Oh he is gorgeous in his seasonal plumage. Homeboy invented peacocking. He is 10 million years old. He predates every colorful bird and flashy feather in existence. Peacocks were probably modeled off him. You want a mating display honey you are looking at the blueprint.

The tips of his wings take on an ultramarine hue like ink seeping onto paper. Eyespots appear on his outer feathers. They’re faint at first glance, but they flash when the light hits them, like when a cat’s eyes catch the light.

Let’s not forget that it’s not just 4 wings either, canonically he’s been said to have twelve total in full demonic form. It is the definition of a display when he unfurls them all for you.

Another character who is not going to be locking horns with anyone. He’s as feverish and flooded with hormones right now as all of his brothers are. Any demon who would challenge him in this state is just going to be hit with some ancient-dark-destroying-angel shit and be struck blind or have their insides instantly liquified or something.

He’s very tender during his cycle, actually. I know we imagine rough-and-feral when it comes to ruts, and he’ll still have MC babbling and incoherent as he desperately pounds into them at some moments, sure–

–but what he wants most right now is to sink into MC and let their scent envelop him and let their touch ease some of the fire pulsing through his body. He can’t get enough of kissing them and the sound of their heartbeat helps quiet his frenzied mind.

He’s still absolutely insatiable, naturally; at some point Lucifer just takes the rest of the season off because he knows he’s not actually going to get anything else done until it’s over.

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon

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frostyhelltime · 14 days

Text

I Said Don't Touch My Hair

Basically someone fucks with curly haired GN!Reader's hair and promptly finds out.

Characters Listed: Alastor, Vox, Lucifer.

Warnings: Violence, but it has Vox and Alastor being pissed off, so what did we expect?

Author's Note: I have really curly hair, 3A or 3B typically. And it frustrates me to no end when people just walk up to me and start touching my hair without even asking. Especially if I spent a lot of time making my hair look extra nice that day. So I got to thinking I wonder what the guys would do if someone approached their lover and did something like that?

If anyone wants me to do this for additional characters let me know. I just thought I would start with these three.

Also hope you like the graphics! I made them myself!

Alastor

It's a distinct possibility this person doesn't even get to lay a hand on you, actually. Ever cognizant and aware, especially when it comes to possible threats to you, he likely has this person on his radar before you do. He is the type of person that's typically five steps ahead of everyone else, and he prides himself on it.

It's during a pleasant stroll on the way to Cannibal Town to have tea and coffee with Rosie that some fool accosts you.

Rosie has been pestering him for the better part of a month to introduce his little paramour and he has finally given in because you were just as excited to meet one of his friends.

In fact you had been so excited you made sure to put extra care into your curls today, wanting to impress. He knew from you only partially jokingly berating Angel when he played with your hair that you didn't like it mussed up when you actually put serious effort into their appearance.

But he can't find it in himself to be annoyed or anything of the sort at the people he passes by when he sees your bright smile as you walk, arm in arm, together. He's also smiling as well, of course, but looking at you the smile turns more soft and genuine for a split second, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue about some joke you made when he sees some stranger's hand reaching for your curls.

Although his smile remains ever present, the scrunch of his nose and furrowing of his brow belay his true feelings.

"Ah ah ah. Don't you know it's improper to touch someone without their permission?" His voice rings out with a thicker layer of static, freezing the demon who stupidly hadn't even realized exactly whose arm you were on. He's annoyed at the way his voice takes on an extra edge of static as you turn around to face the poor soul who probably wasn't much longer for his world. He doesn't like that it could be apparent he's so annoyed. Oh well.

"How repulsive." He mocks, delighting in the clear terror they were feeling as they back up and away from you, as if that will save them.

"Don't worry though, my good fellow. It's a mistake I'll be sure you don't make twice. Someone has to teach you some manners, after all." His voice drops low, letting his form shift taller, antlers elongating and becoming more angular, neck craning forward and stretching to reach the man who was already attempting to run away, maliciously excited grin growing closer and closer.

You release his arm, knowing he'll be back once he's done. You also know he would be even more upset if your clothes got ruined by the blood of this poor uneducated sinner who he plans to teach some manners, and goodness knows the last thing this demon needs is another reason for Alastor to be mad at them.

With a twist and a rip of his claws, once, and twice, the sinner finds themselves violently robbed of their hands and begins blubbering for forgiveness. Alastor blinks at the pathetic creature and brings the hands closer to his maw. He swallows the two offending hands without even a second thought, tilting his head to look at the sinner quivering in delightful fear as if pondering what to do with him next. He takes another step forward and is about to continue when he hears your voice ring out.

"Alastor dear, we're going to be late. I'm sure he's learned his lesson. We don't want to keep Rosie waiting, do we?"

"Ah you're right. We can't be late, it's so impolite. I'm afraid I won't get to continue your lesson." He sighs and then tuts at the sinner frozen in fear, who is still unsure if he's actually going to get to live or not.

Alastor's eyes shift from yours to his prey and his claws give one final rip through flesh as if to punctuate his 'lesson', pulling open the demon's chest with practiced ease before he retreats.

"I hope you found my lesson on etiquette quite educational." Alastor chuckles to the man good naturedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.

And with that he's rapidly returning to his normal form, his arm laced through yours again and he's continuing the conversation from before, mood brightening when you thank him and kiss his cheek for protecting you.

Vox

Vox doesn't even see the person coming. No one other than you tends to exist in his peripheral when you're together.

He had been planning awhile, wanting to really wine and dine you for your anniversary. Remind you how good it is to be with him and all the wonderful perks that come with dating the CEO of VoxTek! Of course you knew, but he liked to spoil you and remind you how good he is to you all at the same time and an anniversary was the perfect excuse. Which is also why you're extra dolled up, curls perfectly coiffed and a backless outfit with a cutout in the shape of, a V, of course to entice him for the time you'll spend together...after dinner.

You're listening half mindlessly and half focused as he talks. There's something just nice and relaxing about his ecstatic chatter and it never failed to make you feel at ease.

He's currently talking about his latest idea for a new show that he thinks will be a hit as you two walk, his arm resting on the small of your back on your bare skin. A subtle but possessive claim to you.

A claim that one poor idiot either doesn't heed or doesn't see.

Either way their hand is reaching for you and snags on your curls almost immediately, causing you to jerk back and yelp in pain, frustration and annoyance evident on your face. Though it compares little to the immediate upset it causes Vox.

You think he didn't mean to snag it, only wanting to feel it, though it doesn't much matter now what his intent was.

The guy doesn't even look remorseful since he doesn't seem to even think it's a big deal until he realizes Vox seems upset as well and then he's apologizing, but apparently it doesn't seem sincere enough for Vox.

The tall man quickly steps forward, barely needing to take any steps at all before he snatches the man's hand with sheer brute force, his other hand beginning to gently untangle your hair and pulling it out of this idiot's grasp. You found it such a funny contrast between the grips of his two hands that if you weren't so pissed you would have laughed. As soon as the man is untangled from you, Vox has him picked up and slammed into a wall, electricity crackling from him as he does, errant sparks burning the man's skin without Vox even trying.

"Listen here you piece of shit, do you have any idea who you just fucked with?" His eyes narrow, electric sparks growing bigger and hotter as he speaks. The man just shakes his head no, trying to apologize to try and save his own skin.

"Now, you're going to apologize to my sweeatheart and you're going to mean it." He growls, dropping the man down in front of you as carelessly as he would a sack of trash. Even belly down the man tries to scramble to get up and run but Vox's foot is pressing down and keeping him pinned before he can succeed.

"I'm running out of patience..." He warns, narrowing his eyes, and then the man is changing gears and giving his best attempt at as remorseful of an apology as he can muster.

You are pissed but take pity on the man, not letting his torment get more drawn out. You're certain Vox won't just accept an apology so you might as well let him get on with it, and not extend the suffering.

You kindly accept his apology as you continue to fix your hair.

As soon as the acceptance leaves your mouth though, the man has such a large amount of electricity shot through him so violently that he's almost glowing, a smoldering corpse left in the dust of the smoke that had arisen from the electric burns, which Vox steps over to check on you, making sure you're okay.

You are of course fine, and assure him as much and it seems to placate him a bit that you aren't actually hurt.

He hurls one last insult of "Prick" before he leaves, his hand gently on the bare skin of your back once again, although he pulls you closer than before so you walk almost hip to hip. He would certainly pay more attention to look out for any other idiots that thought they could get handsy with you tonight.

Lucifer

Another one who sees it before it's coming. He's always aware of everyone and everything when he's out with you. Dating the king of hell certainly had some perks! But it also came with a big fat target on your back. Although you never minded. You knew he was always looking out for you and wouldn't let anything happen.

It's part of why you never noticed anything amiss, you always felt so safe around him that you did sometimes let your guard down. It was easy when Lucifer was so sweet and goofy, even when he wasn't trying.

Needless to say, his hyper vigilance that most never noticed beneath the silly facade comes in handy now, his eyes catching someone approaching you from afar as he walks towards you but still too far away to hear anything they might be saying to you.

You were waiting for him, patiently as ever, to meet up for a date. You looked so beautiful, standing there and smiling down at your watch since you knew he would be there any minute now. It made him giddy just seeing you there.

But despite how far away he is, as soon as he sees them reaching for you, he's beside you in a flash, crossing the distance and using his cane to block their hand and push it away from you before it ever makes contact.

"Hey hey hey, what are you doing? That's so rude." He laughs, smiling at the man, who seems genuinely shocked to see the king of hell in front of him suddenly. He is smiling but there is an air of annoyance in his smile, as if he's trying to keep it casual and struggling. He's not unnecessarily violent, and usually just a casual signal that you were with him was enough to have people keep their distance. He's pretty confident the sinner will just turn and run.

"Lucifer!" Your happy voice chirps at him, only barely registering someone had been reaching for you, and clearly not even registering it as a threat now that he was here.

"Sorry I'm late. I...got distracted." He says sheepishly, shifting his attention from the sinner to you, especially since the sinner jumped back as if the cane had been made of pure fire, running off as quick as he can. But not before mumbling out a shakey "S-Sorry!" Seems Lucifer was right on that bet. He wouldn't have to worry about them bothering the two of you anymore, he's sure.

But you just smile and wrap an arm around his, clearly not the least bit annoyed by the interruption.

"...What does this new rubber ducky do?" You only halfway joke, having a pretty good idea what could have distracted him, and just as quickly his face changes from apologetic to excited. You smile seeing how his face changes; you were right on the money it seems.

"Shoots spikes like little pointy bullets!" He grins like a child excited about their latest toy, and he's guiding you now, away from this person who almost caused trouble if he hadn't been there in time.

"Ooo, after dinner can you show me? That sounds so cute!" You smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

"Although I know you don't need any spikes to save me, my king." You whisper to him teasingly, his face flushing just a little bit red at your playful use of his title as you headed to your date.

#hazbin hotel #Alastor #alastor x reader #vox x reader #vox #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 26 days

Text

Apple Seed 8: Major Minor Irritations

Charlie: (completely exhausted as she shuffles around the lobby and strokes her pregnant belly that's the size of a beach ball) Sweetie, little apple seed, can you please stop dancing on my bladder and doing high kicks to my lungs so I can sleep?

Baby: (stops momentarily before dropping like a wrecking ball and slamming into Charlie's bladder before -Charlie swears to Satan himself- doing the worm)

Charlie: (accidentally pees herself in the middle of the lobby and just breaks down crying)

Alastor: (walking by) Oh, Charlie, dear, what happened here? You look absolutely a mess! Not to mention the little puppy piddle puddle on the floor.

Charlie: (crack)

Alastor: Hmmm?

Charlie: (Crack! CRACK!!! Creeeeeaaak!!! Horns grow, claws elongate, neck twists and turns, spine groans, tail flickers angrily)

Alastor: ......

Demon Princess: (growling as Charlie's voice overlays itself in three different pitches) Is this funny to you, Alastor? Making fun of pregnant women when they're at their low?

Alastor: (eye twitches)

Demon Princess: I. Am. EXHAUSTED. Alastor. I am in constant discomfort, starving yet unable to properly eat because of the baby cutting the space my stomach had in half, and I just PISSED myself in the lobby of my own hotel like a puppy who isn't housebroken yet because MY baby, YOUR FUTURE PRINCE OR PRINCESS OF HELL, keeps tapdancing on my bladder. I. Am. NOT. In. The. Mood. For. Your. BULLSHIT. You cheesy, pompous, dick and pussy averse, mama's boy bastard of a talkshow host who thrives on everyone else's misery because you grew up in a household where daddy didn't love you enough! Now, Leave Me ALONE!!!

-Fire explodes throughout the lobby-

Alastor: (watches as a single bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck, the tips of his antlers on fire like birthday candles) Right-oh! I'll just fetch that wife of yours to help you out.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #charlie #pregnant charlie #alastor was a dick at the wrong time #chaggie #minor chaggie #wrong place wrong time #wrong person #dont pick on pregnant women #thanks anon!#apple seed au #apple seed

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jyoongim · 3 months

Text

DANGEROUSLY IN LOVE

Word count 1.1k

”he’s a wolf in disguise

but I can’t stop staring in those evil eye

i asked my girlfriend if she’d seen you ‘round before

she mumbled something while she got down on the floor

we’ve might have fucked, not really sure, don’t quite recall

but something tells me that I’ve seen him yeah

that boy is a monster”

alastor x burlesque!reader pt 1

An inaccurate southerner 1920 fic.

I am Black sooooo reader is black for the sake of this and so is Alastor cause that’s a black man idc idc idc fight a skunk.

Monster by lady Gaga really had my juices flowing

themes: Alastor himself is a warning,

violence,

alcohol use,

drug use,

nsfw,

teasing, flirting, taunting, smut,

banter, possessive/protective behavior

You hummed a little tune as Mimzy finished doing your makeup and hair.

Tonight was your first debut at the club and you were excited to be the opening act.

You ran your hands over the tight corset in an attempt to soothe the nervousness that was trying to settle in your belly. You adjusted the feathered headpiece as Mimzy finally finished everything with hairspray (why did set your makeup as well….oh well).

You were finishing up putting on your jewelry when you heard Mimzy gasped, you turned seeing her poking her head out to look out the door out to the growing crowd.

you fixed your lips to ask her what had her so shocked, when she twirled around, eyes wide and excited “He’s here! I can’t believe he here!”

You blinked, confused “who is here Mimzy? One of your little boy toys? Or someone you owe?”

she flipped you off before smirking “what you live under a rock doll? Him! Hell’s Stereo himself!”

Your eyes widened as you gawked “No way!” You ran over to the door to peep without people seeing you and your eyes settled on a lone red, lanky demon sitting at the bar. You couldn’t really see him well from where your dressing room but before you could crane your head out further, Mimzy pulled you back in

”You are suppose to be a surprise doll! Can’t let that lot get a eyeful without proper payment now can we?”

You soon forgot about the red demon as you primped a bit more, chatted with some of the other dancers, and laughed with Mimzy.

The lights in the club had finally dimmed and Mimzy slapped you on the ass, leaving your dressing room “Knock ‘em dead doll!”

You took a deep breathe as you heard the band begin to play your song.

You straightened your back, and took on a composure that oozed seduction and confidence.

Hearing the beat of the music, you waltzed out onto the stage, giant feathered fans concealing yourself.

The whistles and catcalls never failed to make you nervous, but you used it to fuel your confidence.

You pivoted around the stage, teasing those who tried to steal a look around the fans.

A swing lowered and you took a seat on it and as it rose into the air, you finally revealed yourself in all your glammed glory.

the spotlight prevented you front seeing much of the crowd but your were Able to spot Mimzy, who was chatting with the red demon from earlier.

Your body moved on autopilot, maybe it was from hours of practice or maybe it was because the red demon was drop dead gorgeous.

He was a rather tall fellow, at least compared to Mimzy.

Lanky build adorned in a red pinstriped suit with a black bowtie. He had a bob-like hair cut, the tips black that was cut into an undercut. Protruding on top of his bang were two little antler like horns and

omg were those ears???? His ears mixed with the color of his hair.

They reminded you of a deer’s. They seemed to stay alert, sticking forward, never flickering.

His eyes were a bright red, like rubies.

and he had a ever-present sharp smile.

Uncanny. But OH he was so pretty.

You locked eyes and automatically you flashed him a flirty wink. You half expected him to throw a wink or look away, but instead he held your gaze as he raised his glass in acknowledgment. You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to focus on your performance.

You swung and twirled on your little perch. Slowly, you started to remove pieces of your costume.

You perched yourself alongside a gentleman and smirked as he practically melted at your touch. You wrapped your boa around his neck and pressed your fingers lightly to his mouth; he smirked, nipping at your fingertips and slowly dragging your glove off. You glided through the crowd, losing a piece of clothing here and there.

By the time you circled around to the bar, Mimzy was drunk and dancing along to the music and the mysterious demon was tracking your movements.

Hitting a little jig with Mimzy, you were intending to make your way to the lanky devil, when an arm circled around your waist and tugged you into a fella, who obviously had been drinking waaaay too much.

”why don’cha take the rest of these off princess?” He took a swig of whatever cheap liquor and leered at you “i like a gal dripped only in jewels” he snickered.

You frowned and tried to play off his perversion.”sorry dearest but I fear i am simply too much for you” you slapped his hand off of you and made your way to the bar.

Taking a seat, you ordered a bottle of whiskey and manners be damned, you chugged it for a good second.

maybe this’ll put you back in a good mood.

you were too busy sipping your sorrows you didn’t notice that a dark presence had settled beside you.

“And here I thought you were just pretty entertainment ” a deep brawl said from behind you. You turned and let out a soft squeak at the close proximity of the demon you had been eyeing all night. He cocked his head, mouth stretched in a big smile, showing off his sharp teeth. “You kept me waiting for a while doll”

You could blame the courage on the whiskey, but you smirked at him coyly “and who might you be?” The red demon crouched to your level and raised your bare hand to his lips, keeping eye contact as his grin widened “Alastor doll. Pleasure to meet to you”

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #burlesque #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #the radio demon

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