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A Doe in Fall (part 6)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦

Part 6 Learning

Another night in bed with Alastor, but one that doesn’t feel quite right. You’re both learning about each other still. Unfortunately, it seems you’re not alone in finding out new information.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, blowjob, riding, swallowing CUM, mostly sex honestly, greenhouse , discussions of murder and dead bodies, nervous smoking, a nervous Alastor, tenderness, plants」

The tag list is broken, it wont let me copy and paste them as actual tags so I am manually adding them 😭

Minors DNI 🦌 🚘

You reached for the chain of the ceiling fan light, Alastor removing his clothes except his boxers as it was still too warm for pajamas. He pulled your clean slip from the drawer before making sure the window was locked but the curtains open. The bed softly illuminated with moonlight.

Oh no. It felt strange. You would think this was a scene you’d seen before, perhaps in a photo beside the definition of home.

“Dear?” Alastor pulled back the blanket and sheet, “Everything alright?” You arm was still extended and holding the chain.

No. I’m too comfortable here already. I don’t feel like a guest.

“Come to bed.” He patted your side of the bed. You got changed, feeling him watching you.

“It’s nice to get undressed with an audience in a…boring way.” You huffed, the ache in your feet still with you.

As you lifted your dress to unhook your garter, Alastor asked you sheepishly, “Would your stockings and garter be uncomfortable to sleep in?” You opened your mouth to answer before you realized what he was actually asking you. Fingers stopping, you let them be.

“Not terribly, no.”

When you slid into the bed in your slip and garters you caught how he grinned at you and suddenly you felt so shy. He always made you feel like it was your first time alone with a man when he looked at you with that smile, with those sharp eyes. You felt naked, deeper than just clothes.

Alastor scooted closer to you, arms wrapping around your waist and dragging you to meet him in the middle. Kisses to the side of your face until you turned, lips captured. As his hand came to your neck, large palm resting on your upper chest, you willed your heart to calm down.

His mouth was hungry, tongue reaching for yours. You tried to breathe through your nose but couldn’t find the timing. When he pulled away, your mouth still open, he let his nose rub at yours. “I want to spoil you.” His hand slid down your front, fingers making a line through the center of your torso before coming to rest below your belly button. It was more intimate than you thought he realized. His hand sat heavy. “We can do as little or as much as you’d like.”

“Are you sure? I’m happy to cuddle in your fancy—,” you stretched your arms, “two person bed. Don’t worry about me.”

He kissed where your jaw ended, breathing into your ear a husky, “I don’t want to cuddle. I want to make a new memory in my home.” In truth, he was desperate to feel you still wanted him. Despite what had happened.

That was all you needed. Throwing your leg over him you straddled his lap. You reached down to make sure his soft member had room to grow. His hands came to your hips but you brought them to your face and leaned down to continue greedy kisses. Hips rolling forward against him, your little moans into his mouth earned you sighs in return.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do. You felt him growing under you as you rubbed against him. Catching his bottom lip in your teeth you gently tugged.

Leaning back, you took his hand and sucked one finger into your mouth. Pulling it out you added another, your teeth coming to rest well past his knuckles. A raspy groan coming from deep in his chest. Your hips kept rocking, tongue twirling as you slowly pulled him out of your mouth again. He fought the urge to say thank you.

“Fellatio, Alastor.” You maintained eye contact, hips grinding as his golden brown eyes became wide, “Can I?”

His cock was twitching against you, but you needed a verbal yes before giving it your full attention.

“I’m not a huge fan of feeling my release on my skin.” He was frowning. An honest to god frown like a bummed out child. You couldn’t help but find it cute. He was usually smirking so the frown felt like seeing the Easter bunny smoking. Just, so out of place.

“Well hun I wasn’t planning on giving it back to you.”

A gasp, he opened his mouth to say something about your unsurpassed ability to surprise him for the nth time, but his mouth had gone dry. He was sure you could feel him growing harder against the silk of your slip. He squeaked out an “Okay, yeah. Let’s try.”

You kissed his cheeks, feeling his blush heating your lips. Finally, you could be the one making a mess of the other. Moving down, you settled your own warm cheek in the crook where his thigh met his hip and let your hand lazily stroke him.

Dicks were remarkably ugly things, possibly done so animals would bury them every chance possible to avoid having to look at them. But Alastor’s cock was pretty. Tan and pink, long and slender with a slight curve up that seemed biologically strategic. It was a shame he didn’t show it off more, but that was none of your business.

“I missed you.” You cooed.

Alastor lifted his head from his pillow, he had been trying to not look at you because he already knew it would be too much. Sure enough, your barely lit face was looking at up from his lap. Eyes aglow with the dying summer moonlight and hand so tenderly touching him. What was he doing again?

Oh that’s right. You’d said something.

“Hmm?”

You kissed his tip, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

His head fell back down, making a noise that almost sounded like a word. Another peck of a kiss. Then a longer one. Your lips parted and his hands lightly gripped the sheets. Hot and wet, but a different version of wet heat you’d already allowed him to lose himself in. A firm palate and soft tongue running past his head and down his length.

For the life of him he couldn’t understand why you wanted to do this. The truth was you were already soaking through your panties, his little hip ruts and sharp inhales going straight to your core. You’d never wanted to please another person so much in your fucking life. Pornography made sense now, you’d pay to see photos of him spread out with a lusty face. But luckily your cost was minor, an express ticket to hell.

You took him down to the base before lifting your head again.

“I want you to make the pace.” You brought his hand to the back of your head. His normally sharp features now soft and squiggly. “Fast or slow, little bit or all of it, you can stop me entirely whenever you want.”

His hand was riding your head as you bobbed on his cock. Tongue running along the underside, pressing up as you moved. A muscle twitched in his thigh which you found impossibly arousing. Every time you took him all the way into your mouth you couldn’t breathe and it only made you think of how deep he’d reached inside you before.

Doting on his swollen head you licked his leaking precum from the slit. The look in your eyes promised to devour him as you sucked in your cheeks and made shallow moves, letting your hands slide down his shaft and balls. The weight of them in your hands had you twitching around nothing.

Alastor’s breath was rough and strained, but his moans soft. You released him with a pop.

“Alastor.”

His eyes were focused on the ceiling, fingers stroking mindlessly at your hair. “Yes?”

“Are you not comfortable with moving my head? You’re just petting me. We can stop or—?”

Alastor let his hand come down to your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip, “No, no I don’t want to stop,” the look in eyes made you believe that. “I don’t know how to set the pace. You just want me to move your head? I’m not used to this and my brain is completely empty. Tell me plainly what you want and I’ll do it.” It sounded like a plea, almost begging for you to give him instruction. Because he was. He was pleading for you to tell him how to make you happy in new ways. “I want to do it.”

Plainly? Okay. This was one area of life you could manage to be completely straight. “I want you,” you kissed the tip of his cock again, “to guide my head on and off your cock,” a kiss down his shaft followed by another, “until you come in my throat.” You kissed the dark hair around his base, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of his manhood. “I wanna do it at your speed.”

A whimper, his dick bouncing up with a twitch and hitting your cheek, “Fuck.” He nodded, “I won’t last long when your mouth is so skilled verbally and physically, my dear.”

You hummed as his hands guided you back down, was this still letting him take the lead? The lines were blurred of who was leading who. But that was fine, maybe two people could move forward in tandem.

It made your pussy clench with a need to be filled when he finally pressed your head all the way down. With some difficulty you kept your teeth from scratching him while hollowing your cheeks again.

Hands busy cupping and caressing his balls, you let him quicken his pace.

A pleasant surprise as his hips began to buck up with his increasingly strident groans. You moaned around his cock, taking quick breaths through your nose whenever you were pulled off before his thrusts and pushes choked you again. Your eyes were watering, glossy as you tried to focus on his face. Looking down and across his tightened stomach his eyes met yours. The way his mouth was open was one thing but the moan of your name as his eyes lolled back made you feel feral.

You shifted your hand to pumping his unsheathed length faster as he focused on his head hitting and sliding up the back of your tongue. You were confident he was almost at his peak. Seeing his eyes roll made you hungry to bring him to orgasm. The characteristic lost rhythm of his hips was a dead giveaway as much as the slowing of his hand bobbing your head that you were on the right track.

When you rolled your tongue Alastor loudly moaned in earnest, he seemed caught off guard by the sensation and his own response. The sound made you whimper around him. You wanted to make him make more sounds. More glimpses of him enjoying himself without restraint.

“My love… please,” he sounded like he was holding his breath, “Can I?” He felt insecure, he’d only entertained fellatio twice in his life and both times he found the sensations bordering disgusting and the aftermath humiliating. One partner dribbling his cum back onto his stomach, the other spitting it into his handkerchief. No one seemed happy with any part of it. But your mouth didn’t feel wrong. No part of you made him feel like a chore. Nothing about you ever made him feel put up with, instead in that moment he felt like you enjoyed him. He felt delicious in your mouth.

One hand on the back of your head pushing your head down onto him quicker as he was just at the cusp, the other where your jaw and ear met lifting you off him slightly slower to languish in the drag of your tongue over his cock.

You hummed an affirmative and braced yourself, a thick and salty shot of his release hitting the back of your throat with force. You took him down to the base again, swallowing around his head as much as his size allowed. He hissed, hips rising off the bed. You didn’t stop swallowing despite his whines and spasms, shoulders jerking up and off the pillows as he folded in over your head. The silence of the night interrupted by his overstimulated gasps spilling out around you.

Only when he stilled, body no longer twitching as he lied back down, did you let up.

He was almost scared to look at you. Flashes of a long forgotten face of disgust behind his eyes.

“Alastor?” Your voice was so sweet, more so than usual. He dared to look.

A smile that reached your eyes. No mask, no grimace, no disappointment.

“You okay, doll?” You took his left hand and kissed his palm before setting your cheek against it. “Was it too much? Uncomfortable?”

What a silly question. He was the one who pulled you into murder, who left you vulnerable to dangerous men, who hadn’t ever considered how loving someone like him could put you at risk of terrible heartbreak. You had never been too much, he was the one spilling out of his canvas and staining you.

“We don’t have to do that ever again, okay?” You kissed his hand again, misreading his face entirely. Odd, you were usually so keen to the finer details of his mood. But when it came to sex, to his preferences, you knew you were better left always giving him room to ask for more, not less. Never make him need to ask you to stop. Never push past an absolute certainty of comfort, or put him in a position where he felt obligated to continue.

You’d decided some time ago you’d close your legs for good if it meant sharing a blanket with him. Your list of needs were rearranged the moment he pushed you into that bathroom, not that had known at the time or that you’d admit it was so early in your meeting.

Alastor smiled, finally, “No, it wasn’t.” While it wasn’t his favorite way to spend his time, he didn’t hate it. He wanted to ask if he was okay, if he was obviously inexperienced or embarrassingly quick. His eyes did that thing again, flitting around your face like he was reading a difficult but intriguing book.

You moved your body up to rest flush against his chest with your own. Silk slip cool on his heated skin. “I am very grateful you let me indulge myself, but,” a kiss to his chest before smiling back at him, your feet kicking up and knocking the blanket off, “Don’t push yourself, baby.” Your finger traced little circles on his chest.

He sat up. Slightly caught off guard, you did too. From the shadows of his bed you couldn’t see it before, but as he kissed you in an almost frantic succession of lips crashing into yours you pulled away to look him in the eyes. Blown out pupils shining back at you again. He stole another kiss, you not noticing his hand coming to his lap.

“I want to go at your pace now.” When he attempted another kiss, a pleasure soaked sigh stopped him. Your eyes traveled to the busy hand between you both.

“You can ride me, I’ve been selfish these last few times.” his hand was stroking himself, trying to get as hard as he could without getting too close to cumming a second time.

Even in the dim light he could see your face clearly, partly why he didn’t remove his glasses yet. You looked genuinely concerned. His free hand’s index finger and thumb came out almost like an upside down finger gun, a promise, “I want to feel you come undone around me.” You hooked your index with his, thumbs touching. It almost made a heart. “You can use me as you need, I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

You’d accepted him but he wanted more. He wanted you to need him. He’d be happy with just a night of neediness, really. Just confirmation he could keep you happy.

A blush spread up from your chest. There wasn’t anything to say. He left no room for doubt with his purposeful request. Leaning back again he slid a hand between your thighs and into your underwear. “Oh, you really did enjoy yourself didn’t you?” He brought his shining fingertip to his mouth and let those love affected eyes take you in as he licked his digits clean.

Unkindly beautiful. He was upsettingly ethereal beneath you, skin a glow in a way that rivaled the sun’s own bloom. His soft hair uncharacteristically messy, glasses fallen just a bit down his nose. The usually confident and sure Alastor was demure and needy between your legs. You’d never seen him look like that, even the first time was a different sight.

How lucky you were to get to devour him twice in one evening. You lifted yourself up and kept your eyes glued to his face as you pulled aside your panties and filled yourself with him.

A moment of pause when you bottomed out, letting you both adjust. A confession of his own, “I’ve never let anyone on top before.”

You tightened around him, “You skipped straight to eating women out in bathrooms?”

A quick correction by him, “Not women. A Woman.”

You tightened again, knees riding up over his stomach. “Well, I hope you’ll trust me with every first.”

Fighting the urge to bruise your ass on his hips, you took a gentle pace at first, knowing he’d just orgasmed minutes before. He was still sensitive, evident from his hisses and jerky movements with every bounce. His mouth was hanging open again with already heavy and loud breaths, eyes glued to watching himself disappear into your cunt.

Leaning down, you switched to rolling your hips front and back and kissing at his clavicle. You worked up his neck, pausing to whisper an ask, “Does it hurt?” into the bruised skin of this throat. He said it was fine so you continued kisses up and then along his jaw. When his mouth reached for yours you dodged and kissed his nose. Another whiny whimper, hands rubbing down your hips and running over the place your skin met your stockings. His fingers ran up the straps of garters and back down again.

You kissed his cheeks, then the corner of his mouth. He looked at you like you were hurting him, like it pained him to not have your mouth on his. A moan pulled his expression from torture to ecstasy.

Alastor felt good, his ego unfurling in his chest with the sight of your pleasure. It was as if he were being worshiped and in worship of you at the same time. Your kisses were an offering, his moans a prayer.

No one had ever doted so sweetly on him during sex, perhaps he never let them. The very notion briefly floated by of past lovers kissing at his neck and it just as briefly made his skin crawl. Though he deeply enjoyed kisses when everyone was dressed.

Much like small beds, affection was made comfortable by your presence. He wanted to be possessed by you. He felt he would be stronger somehow if he was wholly yours.

Resting your forehead on his in the most loving act you’d ever offered a man during sex, you used his shoulders as a sturdy support to resume riding him in earnest. A workout you actually enjoyed, lifting your weight off of him and making a controlled descent to impale yourself again and again on his heated member. His swollen tip was sliding past your g-spot but it wasn’t hitting it as hard as you needed. But before you could move, you felt Alastor bring his arms up.

He used his hands like you’d taught him and grabbed the back of your head to bring you into a kiss. Lips on lips, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth.

You broke the kiss to sit back up, giving your thighs a burn as you tried to create enough friction to build up your orgasm.

Often times you closed your eyes during sex, not because it just felt so good, but because you didn’t know where to look that wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. But not now, your eyes were locked on Alastor’s, every time he bit his bottom lip and every furrowed brow sent tingles that rolled down your shoulders , slipped along your ribs and settled in your stomach.

You didn’t want to blink and risk missing a single reaction. The soft slap of your ass on his lap became more obscene as you got wetter. Slippery was the best word for it, Alastor trying to compare your mouth to the feeling of your twitching cunt. As you moaned his name and clenched around him, he knew he liked this more. Your mouth was free to make pretty noises for him. Sounds that made him twitch in you.

How you could be so soft and yet gripping him so tightly he couldn’t understand. He began to realize how little he understood about any of it. Normally not actually paying attention this much during sex, but he let deeper thoughts go and just focused on the way you looked riding him.

A moment shared between you both as your eyes caught again; static shock without the contact.

“Could you cross your legs? At the ankle.” You reached around and made sure his still heavy balls were safely above his legs. Alastor did it without asking questions.

You needed a new angle, but there was no way in hell you’d turn around. Leaning back with both hands on his thighs, you could angle his cock head to graze that bundle of nerves his hands worked so well in the past. Heavy breaths morphed into deep moans as you worked him into that spot repeatedly.

When you let a hand come forward and flick at your clit you had to sink down onto him, unable to keep your body up the same way. Shorter movements but a quicker pace to match your finger. Alastor tore his eyes from yours to watch your hand work, studying the way you moved so he could master pulling orgasms from you with his own.

Quiet, so softly you gasped and mewled as you quickly raised the tension in your lower belly. No more lifting, no energy or focus to offer, just grinding against him until you felt that snap of pressure and your muscles rolled around his cock. Alastor was quick to watch your face as he recognized the spasms making his thighs twitch again.

As your orgasm waned, the pleasure dying, you felt a clarity you couldn’t before. You looked down over Alastor, and found yourself worried. A small sense of dissatisfaction. You couldn’t put your finger on it so you let it go. Learning about Alastor carnally would take time, and you needed to allow that to happen naturally.

He was the one who suggested it, but it didn’t feel as satisfying as before. Even with his orgasm, you felt like you’d gotten more from the interaction. And you weren’t sure what that something was or what that meant. The feeling in the air the first time wasn’t there now, and you weren’t sure why. You planted a kiss on his lips, trying to feel if anything was missing. His lips moved against yours and his hands rubbed at your thighs. He felt just like Alastor.

“Feel good, my dear?” He didn’t open his eyes, instead kissing you before you could reply. You hummed into his mouth.

“I feel good anytime I’m near you.”

The right answer.

His smile widened, “That’s all I want.”

With a deep sigh, you unseated yourself and lied back in your spot. Your slip was sticking to your skin in various places from sweat, it was uncomfortable but you were too tired to even ask him about showering. He took off his glasses and rolled to face you so you rolled too.

Lying there and looking at each other, Alastor’s eyes adjusted to the shadows to see your face. “I feel like…women often over-act during sex. You don’t though. Or you’re a great actress.”

You nodded, “Yeah I can see that. I definitely have. Also I’m a performer, professionally.”

A nervous smile spread on his face.

“I actually really hate touching you.” You laughed. Alastor placed his hand on your shoulder and you faked a gag, “Disgusting. So strong and yet soft. The worst.”

“Unfunny.” Alastor quoted you.

“No, I don’t do that with you.” Your hand touched at his, “Lots of other people though. I guess we feel like we have to make the guy feel like he’s doing well.” You hadn’t thought before speaking and suddenly worried you’d said something unattractive. There was a relaxation to the way you were talking with him that reminded you of being backstage at the theater.

“I have definitely been on the receiving end of that.” Alastor grimaced, “Feels like making someone a meal you don’t even like, just for them to pretend to eat it and hum loudly with every fake bite. Why push for sex and then just pretend.” Alastor mimed bringing a utensil to your mouth, “Here’s that fried catfish you love darling.”

“Lostsa reasons. And I hate catfish.”

He dropped the fake fork, “Thank God for that, catfish is disgusting.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you just jumped into the fear, “Did it bother you, when I said ‘lots of people’ just now?”

“Why would it?”

You reached out and touched his cheek, “Just checking. Tell me about your day. If I fall asleep it’s a compliment to your voice and not an insult.”

It had been a boring day, save for his worry about you seeing his home. He rambled about work as boringly as he could until he heard the soft and deep breathing of a sleeper. And then he told you about how he cleaned, and changed the bedding, about how he swept the porch and stared into his fridge.

When he ran out of details, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. The sound of your breathing was a new noise for his room. It was nice. His hand slid under the sheet until it found one of yours. It didn’t take long for his mind to settle and for him to fall asleep.

And then his eyes opened and it was bright in the room. He was on his side now, facing away from you. Alastor wondered if he was asleep still, but your breath behind him was evidence enough this wasn’t a nightmare. He was awake. He’d slept through the night without a terror or stressor plaguing him for the first time in, well, he couldn’t remember.

But the torment waited for him to awaken, a tinge of embarrassment washing over him from head to toe like a chill. Had he asked you to ride him? To use him? What the fuck was wrong with him? He was mortified, pulling the pillow over his face. He hadn’t even been drunk. He sounded like some horny teenager desperate to be touched. Not at all what he had been hoping to convey.

He managed to hide it well enough, through breakfast and to the patio where he could finally put his attention fully on something else.

“This is where I bring the bodies.” Alastor walked you to greenhouse doors. “There’s no one in there now. But,” he cleared his throat, “You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to. I’ll never have you help with this part.”

You looked at each other, his eyes taking in the places where you’d been bruised before. Bruises he could still see in his head. Your eyes staring at the blooming purples of his neck. You hadn’t seen them before, his normal collar hiding them well enough. But he wasn’t headed to work yet, so you got see him in a clean white t-shirt tucked into his usual pants. Only he could make that look like a state of undress.

You jiggled the handles, looking past the hardwater stained glass to barely visible green beyond, “If you don’t unlock this door right now I will break in.”

Alastor laughed, pulling the key he’d grabbed earlier from his pocket.

You considered making a joke about your skills with rocks but thought better of it.

When the doors opened, you were surprised to see plants.

Not because they were in there, but that it was all you saw. Alastor walked past you and to the left, “Most people naturally turn right when they enter a room. Buys me a little time just in case someone comes in.” You followed him past long and tall shelves of various potted plants and flowers.

“And most people would consider a shed more suspicious than an all glass greenhouse. Nothing nefarious about glass. The plants help obscure the sights and the hard water takes care of the view from ground level.” He pointed up and over to the house, “You can see it perfectly well from the second floor.”

“Aren’t you worried about neighbors?” He turned right to step through some plants then stopped in front of a large metal table.

“Nearest neighbors are at least several acres away on all sides, we don’t interact.” His finger slid across the clean and shining surface, “Dismember, drain, back in the car to then disappear them far away from here.”

Your short heel sank down into the dirt, a memory of Tommy at better times taking your attention away from where you placed your weight.

“The ground soaks up the water and blood. Bugs take what I miss. And it stays pretty warm even in winter, so the ground stays soft.”

Morbid. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t morbid as your eyes sank to the soil beneath your feet. Turning around you looked for anything out of place. You saw gardening supplies like shears, axes, hand saws, tarps. Plants everywhere, pretty flowers and small trees. It was a very full but very normal greenhouse. Approaching the table you lowered yourself to look underneath. Empty clay pots, bags of dirt, seeds. Clean and dry.

“It looks like a functional greenhouse.”

“Exactly.”

“No I mean— it, not a single trace of,” you searched for a good word, “impropriety.” You’d heard that shouted at you before. “Even the plants are cared for. How much time do you spend keeping this room perfect? When do you sleep?”

His head tilted, “I don’t sleep much. So, I have time. The long nights are just the ones when I have someone in here.”

“I promise my praise is coming but first — Alastor.” You stood, “Ya know you could have just slept last night. Like, a full night's sleep. We didn’t have to stay up. That’s two nights already you barely slept. On top of…years? Of this?”

A suddenly nervous energy, Alastor’s hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked away. Oh no, that was a first you hadn’t considered.

Had you been too harsh? Sounded too much like nagging wife? You felt like one.

“Sorry. It’s not my place to speak on.” You sighed and set your hands on the waist height table. His back must hurt, he was so much taller than the table, he must be bent over quite a bit when he worked. You couldn’t stop imagining him, tired and hunched.

Alastor came to stand beside you, hands mirroring yours, “No, that’s exactly it. It’s become your place, hasn’t it? But I’m still acting like I’m alone.” You bit your tongue. “Yes we should have slept. I was tired. But, you did a lot recently. For me. Selflessly.”

Ah. His fingers on his left hand intertwined with your right, eyes searching for something in the scratched grey blue of the workspace.

“I want to provide for all your needs.”

A tinge of fear again ran through him. He needed you to need him. So you wouldn’t leave. He wanted you to see how he could give you everything.

You could have screamed in the best way, somehow feeling a spark in your lap, provide for you? Why did it sound like an act of service when he said it and not a threat to your autonomy?

“You’re already giving me so many things I need. Phone calls in the morning and kisses after work. Respect for my job and myself as a human, not just a woman. Your voice when I’m falling asleep,” you cleared your throat now, too saccharine of a speech already, “Someone to lick the blood off my face. An alibi. That kinda stuff. Ya know?”

“I’m not joking.”

The muscles in your back locked. You gripped his hand, you could feel him staring at the side of your face but didn’t want to see what expression he had. Unfortunately he knew you too well already.

“Look at me.”

Your natural reaction to being given an order was to do the opposite. But you couldn’t muster the petulance. You finally turned to look back at him.

He’d never looked so serious. Eyes brighter in the sun than you’d remembered them being bore into yours. Locked, you were frozen in his stare.

A deer in the headlights.

He wasn’t studying your face this time, he was staring into. Not through you, no, you could feel his gaze being soaked into the back of your skull.

“I’m learning. Be patient with me? And you can tell me when I’m fucking up. I want it be our places in each other’s lives.”

“Al-,” it came out a squeak, you tried again, “I’m not either. Joking, that is.” His intense look was blinked away. “I need all the little things most. I can’t get them from anyone else. I don’t want them from anyone else. The tender kisses, the hand holding, cuddling. I’m terribly happy.” A tentative kiss to his nose, “But I need you tiptop. Sleeping, eating, human things like that. Let me help you balance things. I want to provide, too.”

Arms snaked around your waist, forehead to forehead, his smile grew, small but still a welcomed sight as always, “Can I have that praise you mentioned earlier now?”

You nodded, listing all the brilliant ways he protected himself from detection. A long form good boy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Across the parish and downtown, a nervous woman fidgeted in a worn wooden chair. She has been woken up by a loud knock at her door when she was still sleeping off her late night.

“I thought this was all done with. Did you really need to drag me down here? Not a big fan of flat foots. You understand.”

He sighed, placing his hat on the empty chair beside him. His partner would be there if his partner was aware he was even doing this. But they had already written him off as obsessed with nothing, “Of course. Just finishing up some paperwork is all, miss. So, not a single enemy? I hear he had debts.”

“Well I mean,” her high pitched voice somehow creeped up into even higher an octave with her nerves, “We all had guesses but, no, never seen him fight with anyone except a dancer here and there. Mean right hook, that guy. I’m glad he’s gone. I hope he’s dead.”

He perked up, “He hit on ya’ll?”

“Once in a blue moon. But he really let Autumn have it before he up and left. Never seen him that mad before. She was bruised up for like a week after.” She ashed her cigarette in the bowl on the table between them, “He wasn’t normally like that. Just when girls refused dates. And Autumn really wasn’t playing along, if ya know what I mean.”

Detective Brady leaned over the interrogation table, “What dates?”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar, @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid ,

@sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita @radio-darling , @dickmastersworld ld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13, @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

@mydearmyshkas , @lovely-dove69 @whydosnakesnotdance

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xynnix-stars · 5 days

Text

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 6 Posting Thursday April 25

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage.

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly.

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock.

You might have hit the man on the back of the head.

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him.

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face.

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.”

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap, hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles.

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours, still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.”

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse.

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.”

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it.

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag.

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking, you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help.

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly.

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic.

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course.

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest.

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with.

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would.

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.”

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry.

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all?

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?”

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance.

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught.

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you.

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though?

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic.

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you’d change your mind.

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.”

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.”

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper.

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy.

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest.

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention.

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.”

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing.

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure.

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin.

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else.

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock.

Diamond are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes.

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?”

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed.

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob?

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing?

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse.

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer?

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate.

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?”

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet.

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman.

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment.

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer.

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.”

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home.

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily.

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along.

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!”

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips.

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

517 notes · View notes

xynnix-stars · 7 days

Text

»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚘 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚒𝚡 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 ✦ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎 ✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟺.𝟹𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢, 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚎

𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝, 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢!

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚎 <𝟹

You vividly remember the accursed day that Alastor was to visit you, the day after he had so passionately kissed you; pressed himself fully against you as though he would die without feeling your touch. You were exhilarated as you had waited so patiently for his appearance to grace your presence, heavily anticipating what would transpire and bloom between the two of you after sharing such a promiscuous and intense act of pure infidelity.

The muscles in your body tingled with a sensation similar to a swarm of butterflies fluttering within as you couldn’t excrete the memory of the kiss from your mind; and regardless of how morally wrong it may have been due to your affiliation in marriage, it played on loop within your psyche like a broken record. It was unlike anything you had the pleasure of experiencing before, nothing like the kisses you were forced to share with your husband. You craved to feel his ravenous lips against yours again, craved to feel his voracious body as it pressed against you once more. It was all you could find yourself thinking of as you sat so patiently, waiting for his arrival.

Yet as the clocks in your dead home began to depict the time of midday, those ditzy inducing thoughts began to embed a sense of anxiety deep into your core. Initially, you brushed it off as him simply being tardy; something you could easily forgive him for despite how rude you found it. Yet as you attempted to delude yourself into believing he was merely unpunctual, an hour had passed before you could acknowledge it. Anxiety only doused you; engulfing every fibre in your being as malicious thoughts of what ifs and maybes consumed the constraints of your mind.

Had something happened to him?

Awful and disturbing scenarios of what may have happened to him only plagued you, vivid imagery of him being in trouble or perhaps dead wouldn’t stop playing like a mentally conjured picture show in your mind. It was devastating, having to handle such disturbing visions of the man you had found yourself harbouring deep emotions for. But as you continued to spend the next few hours in a state of sheer trepidation, your hands had begun pulling on the roots of your hair erratically as your lip became bloodied from the harsh pressure your teeth placed on them.

Despite the distress that encumbered you, your heart still remained optimistic, giving you hope that you would soon reach the light at the end of the tunnel; that Alastor would turn up, and everything would be fine. Yet as the light in your house began to dim as the sun began to process of setting into the western skies, that small amount of hope shattered, breaking everything within you before tears naturally cascaded from your oculi.

Instead of images of something happening to him, thoughts of self-hatred began to embed within your psyche, feeding you voices that echoed eerily in reality, speaking spats of insecurities and self doubt.

Had he merely toyed with you?

Did he realise he did not reciprocate how deeply you felt for him?

Or had he remembered the fact that you were a defiled and taken woman?

You never knew something could destroy the chambers of your heart so heavily, like a hand etching its fingers around your beating organ, squeezing it with the intention of exploding it within the confines of your flesh. It was not only unimaginable, but surprising; you were one of the many unfortunate souls that had the displeasure of having to endure numerous types of abuse as if you were merely someones punching bag; yet this sensation killed something inside of you, causing little tiny cracks of insecurity and distrust to form on the figurative image of your heart, the organ that was supposed to represent the very thing that was currently causing you pain; love.

The distress of Alastor’s absence not only affected your psyche with grief and agony, but also affected your physical form in ways you weren’t expecting. The muscles within your body would not cease twitching, similar to the breakdown you had experienced before attempting to end your husband's life, forcing your wrists and neck to convulse; causing you to only cry harder as you just wanted everything to stop.

Everything was too much.

It took a while; a long while. But eventually, you managed to stabilise yourself before your husband, the man whom you were supposed to love, entered your shared home, and as he did, you allowed the contemplation of whether or not your husband had set the whole ordeal up to weave its way in your brain; if he had gotten Alastor to pretend to be your friend, pretend to harbour feelings for you, to kiss you before leaving you in the dust, all to simply psychologically damage you.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

But as he walked in with petulance, you could only laugh at yourself for even entertaining the notion that your moronically abusive husband could have ever attained the competence to plan something out so meticulously; he was too vacuous to conjure something up that would affect you to this extent. He was a manipulator at his core, a vile abuser who hid his criminal acts so carefully; he was smart in that regard, but you were aware that Vincent simply didn’t have the mental capacity to think of enacting this scenario, mainly due to his jealousy, but partly because he simply lacked the intelligence.

Even as Vincent sat next to you, as he placed his sloppy and wet lips on your bared shoulders; a sensation that felt disgusting, especially compared to Alastors divine kisses, it didn’t register in your mind that Vincent had begun touching you inappropriately. You could only focus on Alastor and the heartbreak that he had caused you as your husband's touches only exacerbated; It wasn’t until he had released his grip off of your body that you had realised he had forced himself inside of you. Yet you couldn’t find yourself caring or fretting over your husband's assault due to the mere consumption that devoured your heart as you allowed your line of sight to intake your naked and descreated form.

Despite your dissociation, you had fallen into your usual routine of serving Vincent; cooking his food that you barely got to receive for yourself, despite making the damned dish yourself, cleaning his dishes as god forbid he do them himself, all whilst giving him whatever he wished to take from your body. And for the sake of your own sanity, you allowed yourself to become distracted by those tasks in an attempt to rid not only your husband's abuse, but also Alastor from the depths of your mind.

But it was futile.

Through the week you had known the radio host, you had stupidly allowed yourself to be deluded with thoughts of him saving you, idiotically allowed yourself to indulge in a hot and messy kiss that inevitably made you an adultress; all whilst being unaware of the fact that Alastor had the capacity of hurting you, until he did. You were foolish to allow yourself to believe he had harboured any emotions for you; moronic to believe that he actually cared for you. He had played you like a fiddle with mastery; breaking your walls down, causing you to fall for him, then making you believe he felt the same when he had kissed you so passionately; only for him to abandon you after it, like you meant nothing to him.

Why had you ever allowed yourself to believe Alastor could actually like you? Let alone love you.

Looking over to your husband as you laid in the dreadful captivity of your bed the night of Alastors absence, intaking all of Vincent’s conventionally attractive features that you yourself found absolutely disgusting and vile, you knew you would never attain the sweet release of Vincent’s grip. You had to accept the reality that you would most likely have to stay in the abusive grasp of your despicable husband until death finally granted you or him in the loving embrace of its cold dead arms.

As your thoughts consumed you, the days passed by slowly as the sun continuously rose and set, each passing day only making the pain in the chamber of your heart increase as Alastor still refused to make an appearance before you, destroying any hope of everything simply being a misunderstanding. And once it had reached the five day mark since you last saw him; since he had begged for you to kiss him, you began to truly hate Alastor; despite how your love yearned for him.

You felt angry, betrayed, and incapacitated.

The desire of peace was all you craved for, the simple release to experience contentment was all you wished for after all the pain you had suffered and endured, not only from Alastors abandonment, but from your husband's consistent abuse. That well deserved peace was to embrace you in the form of a week away from Vincent as he was to travel to New York the following day without you; simply to establish potential businesses he could build in the big apple before officially moving the two of you into the city. But even that was apparently too much for your husband to grace you with as you sat beside him, sat like a doll as soft jazz played in the background.

“I think it best you come with me; to New York.”

You disagreed, obviously. Only giving him a slight glance before you sipped on the drink held within the grasp of your hands as you said nothing, acting as if he didn’t exist.

“Don’t ignore me, doll.” Refusing to allow the sigh that you heavily desired to release from your larynx, you set the drink down onto the low table before you. Moving your hands into your lap, you reluctantly shifted your body to face the man who demanded your attention. “Wouldn’t you like to see the place you’re moving to? We could make it into a vacation; I’ll even let you wear some of those promiscuous flapper dresses that are the craze nowadays. You’d look ravishing in one of those little numbers.”

Looking down, you listened to his insistent rambling, merely saying nothing in return, again. The thought of having to wear one of those revealing dresses before your husband just to feed into his sexual pleasure and capricious fantasies made you feel utterly nauseated. You didn’t want to wear anything that Vincent chose for you; despising how he always took pleasure in dressing you up as if you were a mere object.

A doll.

You couldn’t help how your eyebrows furrowed whilst your mind spoke words of repulsion toward your husband. Yet despite your thoughts of disgust, your mind began to imagine wearing something like that, something so licentious for Alastor instead. Your expression only growing more malicious at the mere mental pictures of that fantasy; standing before Alastor, wearing a sexualised dress as he craved to enrapture you. Shaking your head internally, you cursed yourself for thinking of such sensual desires; wishing not to think of him, despising yourself for even allowing that absentee man into the grace of your psyche.

Gripping your fingers into the cloth of your dress skirt, your teeth clenched together as you failed in ridding Alastor from your mind, your fingernails twitching into your thighs through the cloth as you grimaced from all the thoughts that swarmed you.

“Fine, be a little bitch about it. You’re coming whether you like it or not; you don’t get a choice.” You wanted to laugh at his words, words that alluded to a falsity as though he had ever given you a choice in anything prior. Looking at your drink on the table, you heavily contemplated on penetrating the glassed object against your husband's thick and pathetic skull, perhaps shoving a shard that was to inevitably break from the collision into his face to disfigure him before he died.

As much as you wished for Vincent’s life to cease to exist, you were heavily aware of the great factor that you simply did not have the competence to kill him; even now, after one of the primary reasons for not ending his life being due to Alastor’s perception of you, you still found yourself caring about how the said radio host would perceive you for murdering another living being, despite how you were slowly etching hate into your heart toward him.

With all your thoughts consuming your mind, you hadn’t registered the words you had spoken into the reality of the world until you had heard your own voice echo into the room. “I don’t want to go with you.” Tensing up as your own voice reverberated in your ears, your eyes flickered toward your husband.

His gaze was malevolent.

A truly disturbing and exasperated expression doused his face. You hadn’t intended on antagonising him; hadn’t meant to anger him to this extent with words you hadn’t registered in your head. “Care to repeat yourself, doll?” He sat eerily still, the soft glow that emitted from the lamps caressed his face, making his eyes appear more dulled out and darker than usual.

What could you do in this scenario? In the reality of Vincent; the man who could very easily batter you with a blink of an eye, your thoughts searched for everything you possibly could to get yourself out of this situation, to alleviate the punishment that was to come. It was then that you began the fabrication of a story, something that was a rather pungent thing to deceive a person with, but you were desperate, and your husband deserved none of your kindness, so without hesitation, you said two words that would inevitably cause you trouble in the future.

“I’m pregnant.”

You were aware of how Vincent valued and desired the award of children, how he craved to have his own offspring; so feeding him the illusion of an unborn child that did not exist was the only thing you could conjure in the depths of your mind as you attempted to avoid oncoming conflict. “I’ve known for a few weeks now.” You continued to lie, evading yourself from having to look at Vincent’s expression as you deceived him. “I didn’t wish to tell you until the three month mark, incase of miscarriage.” It was unfathomable to even yourself how you had managed to evoke something so mendacious.

Refusing to meet your husband's gaze, you wondered if he was able to discern your lie; and what actions would be provoked from such clarity. And as you heard his steps closing in on you, you began to shake, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

Only, you grimaced as his arms wrapped around you instead of harming you. Clearly, he had bought your lie without doubt. Cringing ever so slightly as he sniffed your hair, you wished to pull away, wished to get away from him. “Oh, doll, it’s about time.” He smirked into your hair; a smirk you could unfortunately feel as you craved to roll your eyes and hurl up bile from the pits of your stomach from his incessant touch.

Trying to get him off you, you spoke. “That’s why I don’t want to go- why I can’t go, it could be detrimental to our child.”

Perhaps you would have to excrete the unsettling bile that swam in the depths of your gut; the words you had to fabricate alone was making you incredibly nauseated, let alone your husband’s vile grubby hands.

As he leaned back, his fingers wrapped around your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Fine.” He said rather softly; something that was incredibly rare for him. As he leaned into you, he forced a kiss onto your lips as you attempted to withdraw from him; you refused to grace him with a kiss of your own. His hands gripped the back of your scalp as he shoved your face further into his, smushing you to him uncomfortably as the need to vomit was becoming a bit too real for you.

It wasn’t Alastor who was kissing you; it wasn’t the man who you truly craved for. Despite how much you held distaste for him as he abandoned you, you could only compare Vincent to Alastor, could only wish that it was Alastor who was holding you, wish it was him who met his lips against yours.

You couldn’t help but feel as though you were cheating on Alastor as your husband forced himself onto you.

The need to cry only overwhelmed you as your pained thoughts of Alastor mingled with the ones of fear and disgust toward your husband.

Had Alastor thought about you since his absence?

Had he craved to see you, to touch you, kiss you just as you craved him?

As the tears finally left your eyes, wetting your cheeks and jawline, your husband dragged you to your shared bedroom, locking you behind the closed door that forced you to endure everything within the confines of a room so sickly. “Take your clothes off.” Vincent whispered into the skin of your face before pulling away harshly, waiting for you to enact his demand. And you did. Like a trained dog, you submitted to his request; your body filling up with self-hatred as you did.

You took it like a trained animal too as your husband defiled your body yet again; a routine you believed you’d never escape from.

It was a nightmare, one that encumbered your reality, your entire life and existence. It pained you, pained you that this was what you were reduced to; a bought product for a man who would force himself on you for the rest of your life.

Sleep was a thing that wouldn’t grace you that night, yet contrastingly, you felt elevated despite all the hardships you had to endure; you would be free from Vincent for an entire week.

As the darkness of the night made room for the lightness of the day, you only allowed a small amount of sleep to consume you before Vincent had jolted you awake; stating that he was leaving soon.

But not soon enough, in your opinion.

Things moved oddly fast as you went about your morning, making Vincent breakfast before his departure, a smile etched onto your face as you anticipated the moment he finally left.

“I think it’ll be a boy.” Your husband's voice echoed throughout the room.

You had forgotten about the lie you had fabricated to avoid his assault.

Fiddling your fingers together, you only nodded with a hum as you avoided the subject all together, yet Vincent wouldn’t grace you with contentment as he continued his speech, listing potential names for an heir that was to never come, and as he continued, the time to his departure only approached.

Before you could even acknowledge it, Vincent had kissed you farewell before getting in his car, driving off into the horizon of the road.

Walking back into the emptiness of your home, you squealed ever so slightly as you laid against the sofa in your parlour.

The thickness in the air that carried alongside Vincent seemed to disappear, vanishing as only breathable and rich oxygen filled your lungs, giving them the much needed pure air that was free of tension they craved for.

You wondered if Vincent would die in a car crash on the way; it was a long journey after all.

A smile etched onto your face as you imagined him dying, not noticing you had fallen into a slumber of a short nap until a loud rumbling of thunder shook the walls of your home, startling you in the wakefulness of consciousness. Moving towards the nearest window, you watched as rain poured from the unreachable sky above, dark and gloomy as it pattered down harshly.

It was contrasting to the beaming sun that shone earlier from when you were awake, but the serenity of finally being graced with the freedom of the presence of your husband made you fall into a deep appreciation for the damp weather. And as the rain began to heavily splatter against the windows and wooden drywalls of your home, you looked at the clocks in your home, only to be surprised at how late it had become. Allowing yourself to relax again, intending to grant your body a sleep that didn’t require you to be on edge for once, you sank yourself into a chair, gazing out of the window that overlooked the back of the property as you watched the heavy rain drizzle the world in its essence.

Yet the soft glow of the electrical lights in your home shut off as a flash of light struck from outside, a loud rumble of thunder slowly echoing after the flare of lightning. Grabbing the armrests, you pulled yourself up as your home became doused in creeping shadows and haunting darkness that hid the contents within, the only light being the natural glow from the moon that hid behind the clouds of thunder and rain.

As you moved to retrieve some candles in your dresser to give your home some light, dread permeated within your being as a loud rhythm of knocks banged against your front door. Turning around ever so slightly, your vision focused on the door; seeming to shrink away from you as panic overtook you, vertigo ever so present before the door was banged again ever so slightly more harsher than the original set.

You vacillated on opening the door, wondering who would be at your home at such an hour into the night, and in this dreadful weather. Slowly grasping for the door knob, your breath hitched as you unlocked the door, only leaving the chained lock secured; you weren’t about to let someone barge into your home.

As the gap in the door began to reveal the contents of the outside world, the blood in your face dropped; the heart in your chest didn’t know whether to burst from relief or anger as you took in the appearance of the man who had disappeared for numerous days.

Alastor Hartfelt.

He looked awful, regardless of how the pouring rain had affected him; forcing his usual fluffed hair to stick against his warmed beige skin, how it fogged up his glasses and drenched the exact same clothes he had worn when you had last seen him, the skin under his eyes were darker, as if he had hardly slept, and his appearance indicated he hadn’t bathed himself for a few days, possibly since you last saw him.

Your heart clenched in agony as you saw the state he was in as he panted as though he had ran to your home from god knows where. Yet the echoing voices in your mind that reminded you that he had very much abandoned you consumed you, conflicting your emotions as you stared up at him through the gap in your door.

He spoke your name with desperation as his hand pushed against the door, attempting to open it further, yet the chained lock prevented him from forcing the door to widen. “I’m so sorry-” He almost whined, the look in his eyes seemed anguished as he looked at you, but as those words came out of his mouth, you couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

Did he realise how much distress he had put on you for the former days he had abandoned you?

How many breakdowns you had to endure?

Slamming the door quickly, you shut it in his face, only to hear him bang against it yet again, more frantically this time as his voice seeped through the cracks of the hinges of the door. “Darling, just let me explain-”

“Go away, Alastor!” You screamed, interrupting him. Betrayal was all you could devour in the moment; the heightening emotions of his absence and how it had affected you was all you could comprehend. “You’re despicable, and I truly never wish to see you again.” A lie; you knew it to be, but you wished to hurt him as he had you; you didn’t know why. Despite everything he was still the only person who had shown you kindness, even if he had abandoned you.

How could you treat Alastor this way and not your husband?

Probably because Alastor had never hurt you in ways your husband had.

He just broke your heart instead.

Running up the stairs as you wished to leave the dreaded area of your door; the same one where the man you harboured feelings for stood behind, you flinched as he began banging the door with such force you were certain he was kicking it; attempting to break it down.

Screaming at him to stop it, he ignored you, and before you could begin to walk down the stairs to attempt to halt him from breaking your door down, the front entryway was quite literally torn from the hinges that held it; parts of the wood from the door shattered into splinters; scattering across the floorboards as the door itself hanged from the wall, still connected to the drywall via the chained lock.

As you looked at Alastor as he took a step into your home, the dark shadows of the night caressed his entire body, hiding his facial expression from you as you could see small glints of his eyes and smile reflecting towards you; a truly horrifying sight, one that had your knees trembling ever so slightly. Taking a step back, you watched as he made another step towards you, his shoes harshly slow walking echoed throughout the home, and as a struck of lightning flashed behind him, the goosebumps on your skin erected, forcing a bone chilling sensation to douse you.

One that had you unable to dictate if it was from fear or lust.

Not once did you take your eyesight off of him as he stood there, your breath hastening as he simply stared at you.

“I told you never to walk away from me like that again, darling.”

Quick PSA:

The sadomaso won the poll, YALL HORNY so I will be writing that next, hopefully I can get it out tomorrow!

ALSO, I wasn't expecting my last assignment to be so difficult, so I will only be able to realistically work on Misconduct and any other fics during the weekends, fortunately, I will probably have my assignment done in like 2 weeks max as I can get shit done when it needs to be done, so don't fret if I'm not as active! I'm still here and I'll return to my normal upload speed once i've finish with this year at uni.

If you've stayed long enough to read all my bs, let me know how you felt about this chapter! And also... Congrats! You get a little treat... >.<

The next Chapter is going to be in Alastor's POV.

»»------► 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@cherry-cola-100 @hana-en @undrgroundtheme @roxxie-wolf @mutifandomkid @gentle-aesthetic-bby @itsmskeisha @k1y0yo @d34dl0ve @reikamasama @taygirl24 @alastorssimp @ieatcocoa @tremendoushearttaco @spottypug @bishiglomper @marcysbear @zazamagicaldonut @little-slyvixen @wendigonamecaller @schiz0preniczz @trippoverrt @reader3 @kittyandbluey @xinhar @sol3chu @yuckypuppie @forest-knights @ivebeenthearchersstuff @feellaaya @babesway22 @straows @blobin456drawz @saccharine-nectarine @blakeaha @nishayuro @impulsivethoughtsat2am @zarabethe @petrichorvzlia-blog @burninupa-star @alastorsaries @saints-wrapped-in-plastic

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xynnix-stars · 7 days

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𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓

pairing: Alastor x fem!doe Reader

summary: Mating season has it’s struggles and it affects Y/N the most.

warning: no smut yet(sorryyy), talks of sex and heat, mostly fluff and Alastor being a sweetie

Expect a second part for this:))

Everyone, except one person from the Hotel, was in the parlor, having coffee and just eating breakfast.

Y/N had locked herself in her room, only coming out for a few minutes to gather herself food for the whole day and to let everyone know that she was okay.

“No, but really… What the fuck is up with her?” Asked Angel.

“It’s that time of the year for deers, it’s called mating season, I looked it up.” Charlie said, before, she was worried about her so she found a book about it and learnt about it.

“Oohhh, so our doe is horny? It’s a mood, honestly.” Angel instantly got into his flirty voice and he turned to Husk “Don’t whiskers gets heats? Mmmh… We could satisfy it together!” He leaned more into him, but he only got shoved off.

“Fuck off!”

For the first time that morning, Alastor decided to speak. “It’s more than sexual feelings.” All heads turned to him in question, so he continued. “Female deers are overwhelmed by their maternal instincts, their whole bodies are aching to take care of their own little fawns.”

Vaggie spoke. “So, she is pregnant?”

“AWWW—-“ Charlie’s eyes turned big and teary.

Alastor chuckled in response. “Heavens no! This is where the sexual instincts slip in—“

“Slip in?” Angel raised his brow suggestively, but got a flick to the head, by Husk again.

“Ha.ha.ha. No. Whether she mates or not, her body still feels the need to mother.”

“That’s why she is curled up all day in that big pile of blankets?” Vaggie asked and both Charlie and Alastor nodded in unison.

“She also put on some weight too? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy. Her thighs are so plushy and her ass and ti—-“

“Yes, she gains weight in case she needs to feed a fawn and keep it warm during the cold season.”

There was a bit of comfortable silence before… guess who spoke up again.

“Hold on a second.” Angel perked his head up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in heat too? You’re a deer, too.”

All heads turned to Alastor, who didn’t show how uncomfortable he felt. He only chuckled with a wide smile, but before he could have brushed it off, the missing doe entered the parlor.

“Good morning!” All kinds of greetings were heard. She sat down on the couch.

“How are you today?” Husk asked her.

She smiled. “I’m okay, thank you. I am just going out, I have to stock up on my sweets, I’ve ran out. Anyway… I’m just goi—“ She started to make her way to the door, but Alastor appeared in front of her.

“Like hell you are! It’s dangerous out there for you.” He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any bucks catching your scent and doing… heaven knows what.”

“B-but I need my sweets.” She huffed.

Alastor just stroked her ears. “Don’t you worry, doe, I’ll go out and get them for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask that.” Their faces were inches away, completely oblivious that all eyes were on them and all lips were smirking their way.

“Nonsense! You just go back to your nest, lock the door and I will be there in a bit, with all you could need.” When he finished his sentence, he was already out the door.

She turned around, she needed to get back, every nerve in her body was on the edge.

When both deers were gone, Angel spoke again.

“What the fuck did I just witness?!”

“Her body acknowledged that a buck gave her commands, so she must comply.” Charlie said, with a smug undertone in her voice.

Everyone scaterred after that, only Husk and Angel were at the bar, sipping on their usual strong liquor.

“So… Creepy face is in heat too.”

Husk stopped the cleaning of the glasses to laugh.

“Exactly.”

“So, a fawn running around the hotel is not too far way in time, is it?” His fingers glided around the rim of the glass.

“If it’s up to Alastor, it will be even sooner.”

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xynnix-stars · 8 days

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Masterlist

⊹₊‧──Go forth and be horny──‧₊⊹

1500 words or longer

⟢Alastor x Reader - The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (A Valentino Production)

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦

⟢Alastor x Reader - A boiling frog smut💦

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

⟢Alastor x Reader - Good Vibrations sexy🔥

After you make an offhand comment about doubting if his microphone actually works, Alastor finds a creative way to convince you while at dinner with the group.

⟢Alastor x Reader - Luck smut💦

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

⟢Lucifer x Reader x Alastor - The Safeword is RadioApple smut💦

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

⟢Alastor x Virgin FemReader - The Big Part smut💦

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

⟢Angel x Virgin Reader - Someone Nice, Somewhere Safe smut💦

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

꒰აMale reader ✧ Female reader ໒꒱

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader - Finders Keepers

Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Under 1500 words and specific requests

⟢Luci x Reader x Alastor imagine (and Vox) sexual 🔥

⟢Alastor SFW and NSFW Headcanon fluffy☁️ and sexual🔥

⟢Ace Alastor x Ace Reader - Fuck Joke around and Find out soft smut 💦

⟢Ace Alastor bottoms for a GN!Seraphim Reader - Wrapped around Your Finger smut💦

⟢Angel Dust x PornstarReader - Besties get Banged smut💦

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აMaleReader ✧ FemaleReader໒꒱ ✨NEW✨

⟢Lucifer x GN!AngelReader (fic based on Griftwood by ghost) smut💦

⟢Cursed Cat Alastor

⟢Hazbin Crew Drunk Headcanon (tiny sexy?)

⟢TopAlastor x BottomLucifer - for my darling Fraugwinska , Lazy Mornings smut💦

⟢TopLucifer x Bottom Nun!Alastor - HateJoke Fuck smut💦 ✨NEW✨

Hazel Imagines - general imagines, very small

⟢Would Alastor indulge in anal with a fem!reader?

⟢What would Alastor do about a reader with a scent kink? Smut💦

⟢Imagine Alastor and a S/O aroused by his voice

⟢Would Alastor have sex with a reader on their period?

⟢The Big Part (2) Alastor x ‘Virgin’Reader

Night two comes, as does Alastor

⟢A Doe in Fall (part 5) HumanAlastor x FemReader

im not telling you a goddamn thing

⟢Wrapped Around Your Finger (part 2) SeraphimReader x Alastor

Alastor struggles with wanting something he refuses to ask nicely for

⟢Untitled; Rutting Alastor x Meek Bunny FemReader

You were sent to hell on a technicality, too pure and too sweet for the underworld. While you find shelter at the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor sees an easy and delicious soul to add to his collection.

*There are so few openly gay characters in mainstream media, I wanted to provide something for gay dick-having fans who wanted to see their gay spider power bottom fucking someone they can relate to physically so I will always write a male counterpart to Angel stories

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xynnix-stars · 9 days

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how do people come up with titles?

why can't we just number fics like classical composers did with their stuff?

"tentacle porn No. 8 in [fandom], [pairing], op. 57"

that would solve so many problems

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xynnix-stars · 9 days

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I'm convinced this is how it happened

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xynnix-stars · 9 days

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I'm just thinking about how we got these but not the trailer or you know, an OFFICIAL POSTER

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xynnix-stars · 11 days

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a couple of kurama panel redraws!

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xynnix-stars · 11 days

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like holy shit . youko looks fucking insane . jun shison is so gorgeous he truly is kurama in real life i cant even ..

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xynnix-stars · 11 days

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Let the Wind Lead You to Me

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xynnix-stars · 27 days

Note

How about smut prompt no. 28 with Tighnari?

Considering his work, yeah, I can see that heppening.

Pairing: Tighnari x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, outdoor sex (against a tree), moaning, praise, biting, Tighnari in a rut

A/N: If you moan in the forest and no one hears you, did you moan?

28. “Home is too far away. No one’s going to see us here."

"You can be louder than that, come on sweetheart, moan. Moan for me." Tighnari growled next to your ear, his hips unstoppable in their rut, hard cock driving in and out of your cunt, wetness dripping down onto the grass. Your panties lay in shreds beside the tree, a victim of Tighnari's sudden rut. "Need to hear your pretty sounds."

One of your hands was still covering your mouth, biting your fingers, the other laying against his gloved ones that kept you stable against the tree he chose to fuck you against. "What if someone sees us?" You were always a screamer, which made it hard to have sex when you were in his home, with everyone around to hear. The pillow could only muffle so much noise.

"Home is too far away. No one's gong to see us here. Or hear us. Unless you count the animals. But you already smell like me, they know we're mated. There's no shame in this, it's natural." His fluffy ears flicked on top of his head, in tune to all the sounds of the forest, his green eyes staring into yours, swallowing you up like the trees, "I love the sounds you make. Especially your moans and your pussy getting so sloppy when I fuck it just like this." Tighnari hoisted you up, your legs locking around his hips.

"If... if you that I'll... oh fuck... this angle is..." One of your favorites. There was nothing getting in the way of his cock pushing in and out of your pussy, nothing in the way of his balls slapping against you, "Tighnari, I'm gonna-"

His deep growl startled you, much like his teeth grazing your mating mark. "Then let me hear it properly." His hand grabbed the one on your mouth and pinned it above your head, "That's better. Moan for me, yes, moan from my cock!" Fangs dug into your neck, renweing your mating mark, finally triggering your orgasm and those oh so sweet moans and gasps that you released right into his ear. "Fill you up so good now, my pretty mate. My ha- fu- ah!" Tighnari's hips stilled against yours, wave after wave of seed rushing deep into your pussy, warming you up and making you moan louder, "More? Yeah! Yeah! I'll give you more!" You don't recall asking for more, but he did it anyway, until he was so spent he couldn't form words.

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xynnix-stars · 28 days

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One day, Tighnari and Cyno traded clothes with two mysterious guests...

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xynnix-stars · 1 month

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Stop crying you can literally buy a ticket to see them

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xynnix-stars · 1 month

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It is officially confirmed that the new series of the anime Black Butler is the Public School and P4 visual and PV has been released!

The anime is planning to air in 2024!

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xynnix-stars · 2 months

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. ﾟ｡ ₍ 𓆩 NOAH'S KINKTOBER 2023 𓆪 ₎ ｡ﾟ.

SUCKING SOULS ft. KAMO CHOSO — You've existed as a succubus for more years than you could keep track of, haunting sexually frustrated men's dreams and they're all starting to blend together... except for this one. This one is too cute to let go of.

tags: afab reader, demon fucking, somnophilia, blowjobs, sub! choso

song inspo + word count: ~ 1.7k

available on ao3 + kinktober masterlist + regular masterlist

tags: @ekaterinatepes @dellalyra @sunaishotsstuff @bloompompom @ravereina @tojishugetiddies @i-literally-cant-with-this @hehehehesthings @thecookiebratz @rodeo-star @dgrymn @chocoyanchan @r0ckst4rjk @d4ddies-wh0re @hinata7346 @ang3liclov3ly @vanessani @a-brahms @ploylulla @131patpat @etlftl @chososwhoresblog + @bitchcraftinc ♡

You stare down at the sleeping male, no need to blink. No need to do lots of things due to the fact that you exist as an entity. He won’t be able to tell that there’s someone standing next to his bedside. Choso, you’ve come to learn his name due to your many visits to his bedroom on late nights like this, breathes softly in his sleep. The human must be tired from working all day. You even wonder if you should leave him be since he’s clearly exhausted but throw that thought away, deciding to take what you want and leave quickly.

You’ve read his mind before, learning that he does remember the countless visits you’ve paid to him at night and that he thinks of you as more of a monster under his bed than a lover. Does that hurt you? Not exactly. If you had your say, you wouldn't be considered as either. Something akin to attachment forms inside of you for this human.

Your hand wanders down his face, carefully memorizing the soft features with the pads of your fingers. Your powers allow you to take on whatever form he most desires in a lover so you’re allowed to feel his soft skin when that same hand touches the base of his throat. It makes it all the way down to his chest and you use the tip of your fingernail to press into his perky pink nipple. Swiftly, you lift your finger to your mouth to smear it with saliva and flick your sticky wet fingertip over his hardening bud. Choso doesn’t wake from his sleep (he never does) but he does suck in a sharp exhale before whimpering softly.

When you repeat the action, you’re rewarded with softer mewls and a noticeable tent growing in his pajama bottoms. Choso is a lot of things but he’s always fun to tease while he’s in the middle of a dream. Your nightly routine continues just as it usually does as you climb into his single bed and straddle his broad waist. Your newly developed human anatomy responds accurately when you feel his dick hardening underneath you.

Slowly and gently, you rut against the sleeping man, savoring the soft snores that you receive as a reward for each soft push of our thighs. The clothes that separate your genitals from his don’t matter, you always get such a good response from him no matter how you choose to touch him. He always gets so needy so quickly. A wet spot forms where his erect tip is, smearing and seeping through his boxer shorts.

Soon enough, you tire of teasing him in his sleep and shimmy down to get between his legs and yank his bottoms down to pool around his ankles and Choso unconsciously lifts his hips to help you undress him and leave him stark naked to your demonic gaze. You’ve seen Choso out in public, going about his day, before and he usually wears his hair up in two short tails but when he’s asleep; he allows it to flow to his shoulders. You’re not sure why you’ve grown so attached to this simple mortal man, sure, he’s cute. But is he special? And, if so, what’s so special about him? Why do keep coming back to visit him?

The male gasps, eyes still fluttered shut, when you take his pretty cock in your soft palm. A series of rushed breaths leave his mouth and he sheds a couple of tears at the sensation of your hand working along his shaft. Choso is cute all over but there’s absolutely cute about his cock. It’s thick and has tens of veins popping up along the shaft, blood leaving the rest of his body to meet in his cock and when you mouth at the leaking tip, it always emits the sweetest substance. You stare at his pretty sleeping face and watch carefully as you sink your mouth down onto the entire length. Due to being inhuman, you have no gag reflex or any need to stop and take a breath so, on nights like this, you allow yourself to enjoy gently sucking him off in his sleep. Choso grips the comforter in a big palm, as if to grab a ledge or something to avoid falling to his death.

You suck and nibble on his dick until your heart's content, swallowing every drop of precum that he provides to you. Your tongue faithfully follows along the body of the most prominent vein in his cock and you allow your warm breath to tickle at the patch of short hairs leading to his navel. You wanna lean over and kiss the distance of his happy tail but can’t bring yourself to take his prick out of your mouth.

Choso’s breathing grows erratic as you slick his penis up with the excess saliva in your mouth, really leaving a mess in the wake of your lips. He gasps, eyes fluttering open slowly but only for a moment when you leave the softest kisses on his pretty pink tip. When you’re tired of playing with him, you push him further in – inch by inch – until your throat is filled. He breathes out so hurriedly that you wonder if he’ll die from exhaustion. Is this how humans have heart attacks? It matters not to you. You continue the act of lavishing Choso’s cock, doing everything you know him to love so that you can get the sweet liquid out of his tip once more.

He blinks slowly, staring at the ceiling in a dreamlike and confused state, unable to understand that (once again) he’s being pleasured by a succubus like you. He chokes when you swallow around him again, your expert throat getting him closer and closer to his edge. Cute sobs hit your ears when he begins to buck his hips up to meet your mouth, still trying to have some consideration for the imaginary woman giving him head. Choso shamelessly fucks your mouth in his sleep.

He sobs and clenches his knuckles in the bed sheets. Choso pants as you suck him off with inhuman dedication, no need to breathe. He, even in his sleep, tries not to be too harsh and pull your hair. He just clenches his fist until his knuckles turn white. He releases in your mouth without even thinking about it.

Choso’s cum flows down your throat, giving you a surge of energy. As a sex demon, it’s nothing but the purest nectar and you wish you could bottle Choso’s essence and bring it with you everywhere you go. He lifts a large hand up to cover his face in what seems like shame, still wordless and dazed. Soon enough, the feeling he’s got flooding his mind dissipates and that hand that’s cradling his tear-streaked face, tangles in your hair as if to reward you for making him feel so good.

Something about Choso’s dick confuses you. It doesn’t shrink away so soon after her cums like other men’s do. His stays long and thick. It stays buzzing with life, blood being carried about its entirety with the winding veins that adorn the precious shaft. Your pussy pulses with excitement when he’s able to grow hard once again.

Choso never fully wakes during your visits, always seeming to think that this is all a dream. A beautiful woman magically materializes in his bedroom and sucks him dry as if his cum is made of gold and fucks him until the sun comes up. And he seems to think that it’s some recurring dream.

Still in his beautiful dreams, Choso grips your shoulder and sobs, urging you to travel back up his body with your own and straddle him once again. You always listen to him when silently begs you in his sleep like this. It’s his dream. He should get whatever he wants. His cock is solid again when you impale yourself on it. He never stops crying, all while you’re riding him, lifting your hips to let the sound of skin smacking replace his pathetic little sobs. He’s hot and pulsing deep inside of you and, being a demonic force, you have enough stamina to fuck yourself on him all night but he’s lachrymose and spilling inside of you within two minutes.

Had Choso been a regular lover of yours, you’d be annoyed over him cumming so fast and never seeming to last – even though you sucked him off first – but he’s so precious this way. He’s at his cutest when he’s cumming deep into your otherworldly cunt.

“Yes,” He whines, reduced to a sniveling baby and letting tears flow down his pink cheeks. His hands grip your hips, giving you no pain but startling you all the same. He fills you up properly, the dark bedroom only full of the sounds of sex and his eyes downcast on your form that he’s sure isn’t really there. And you can tell that he’s overstimulated by the way he tries in vain to tug your body off his still weeping cock.

He wears overstimulation well, eyebrows knit together, eyes shut so tightly that they create little wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. His hair sticks to his sweaty skin in soft patches and his chest heaves as he rides the waves of a mind-blowing orgasm. You lean down to praise him for doing so well when you feel him hardening inside of you once again. You squeeze around him, earning another one of those sweet moans you crave so much. His skin is heated and feverish against yours and you allow his body to stick to yours with the sweat beading off his pecks.

You rest your head on his soft chest and only move your hips in soft fluid motions, fucking him into yet another orgasm and gaining new sounds out of those parted lips of his. Choso wraps his biceps around your body and keeps you pulled tightly against his body. You accept the hug, not able to fully understand this form of affection but glad that you’ve seemingly earned his trust. When Choso cums again, you fall over the edge right along with him; making a mess that he’ll never have the pleasure of seeing. Your hips stutter until they’ve completely stopped on their own. Through the gurgle of his own tears, Choso rasps. “So good.” An unconscious compliment, but it doesn’t matter to you. His words warm your heart all the same.

“Good boy.” You smile, kissing his forehead and allowing your body to materialize into thin air, back into your own realm - leaving the slumbering man to believe that he’s suffered yet another wet dream.

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