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bunniesanddeer · 11 days

Note

Hi,

Just recently found your stories! I love how you write Alastor! I have a request and I apologize if its long.

Reader arrives at the hotel and unbeknownst to everyone they can see people’s pasts, mainly their earthly lives, once they touch them. Which usually isn’t a problem until she meets Alastor. They see his past as well as the fact that his soul is owned by a mysterious entity.

As time goes by, Alastor and reader form something of a friendship and he can sense reader is powerful and repeatedly tries to get them into a soul deal. One evening while at the bar, he’s trying to make a deal when reader, somewhat drunk, states “no power I have can help you with your deal.”

One of those “oh shit” moments and reader runs only to get caught by a very agitated Alastor. They explain how they know and don’t know who the deal is with etc trying to calm him down. He realizes they have known this whole time and not spoken of it so he feels he can trust them.

Sorry sorry sorry this longer then it sounded in my head!

Hi! Sorry this took so long! So much has happened, and yet so little. In the middle of trying to buy a home, and my full-time job has been kicking my butt. Sorry if this is OOC, or anything like that. I have been having a hard time writing at all!

Everything

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings: Mild horror.

Word Count: 2,093

Maybe it was the psychology degree. Maybe it was that strange empathy that had been instilled into you as a survival response. Either way, you don’t know what caused it; when you ended up in Hell, because of course you did, you found out you had a strange ability, one that startled you. At a single touch, the entirety of someone’s life was made known to you; all their secrets, their thoughts, and even their afterlife. Their lives were heavy burdens, and so you settled on wearing gloves. You could minimize the damage to your psyche, and to your soul, if you avoided it entirely. No one would find out, if there was no risk of you using it.

Time was hard to measure in Hell, and so you couldn’t tell how long it took you to find a comfortable, enough, routine in Hell. You wore soft gloves, and only took them off when alone, or when they got soiled. You had a job, and you were living a boring rerun of your life on Earth. That was until you saw the advertisement for the “Hazbin Hotel”, looking for employees. You recalled the Princess, Charlie, making a fool of herself on the news only a few months prior. She was endearing, and the reminder and call for employees drew your attention. Without thinking too hard on it, your decision had been unconsciously made. You were going to apply.

The main lobby was large, and had family portraits of the royal family hung on the wall. There was a bar and couches on the far side of the room. There was no one but the bartender in the room. The grumpy cat at the bar drew your eyes, and so you made your way to him.

“Ah, hello?” You called to him, trying not to startle him.

Sharp pupils lazily flickered towards you, and the cat-man let out a grunt.

“I’m here to maybe, apply for a position here,” you continued. You extended a hand and introduced yourself. “I was a therapist, and although it has been some time-”

“I don’t care. You’ll be talkin’ to Charlie,” the bartender interrupted, taking a swig of his drink. “She probably already knows you’re here.”

Sure enough, a white blur was bounding down the steps, exuberance filling every part of her form. “Oh hello! Hello! My name is Charlie,” she said, grabbing at one of your hands and shaking your whole body with her handshake. “You said you were a therapist?”

Now that she had settled into being mostly still, you could make out her features better. She had blonde hair, loosely tied, and cherub cheeks. Her large eyes were filled with such wild hope, that you feared ever needing to tell her ‘no’. This was the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar.

“Uh, yes, I was!” You try to match her tone, and notice other people filling into the lobby. “I specialized in correctional counselor. I worked with those in the prison system, trying to help them avoid recidivism. Along with programs in the prison, we helped them acclimate back to civilian life, and keep their records clean! I also worked with some after they left.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Oh wow! That would be PERFECT.” You watch her smile grow, and she turns to the woman that was now standing next to her. “You hear that, Vaggie? This is great, right?”

Although you were hesitant, this felt like the right move. So with a little forced pep to your step, you accepted the offer she made only minutes later, and joined the Hazbin Hotel team. That was before you realized Alastor was there.

Months into your stay was the first time you accidentally touched anyone. You had been in your room, organizing some of your things, when Alastor barged in, yelling about some Angel Dust annoying him. The two of you had a weird friendship going. He would poke and prod you, and you would laugh it off and speak your mind about what you thought was ‘wrong’ about him — all in good fun, of course. Because of your general comfort with each other, he liked to barge into your personal space more and more often, and it had led to a few close calls. Now, though, was far too close. You weren't wearing gloves, and he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“My dear, you simply must tell Angel Dust that his attempts at wooing are preposterous!” Alastor flipped you around so you were facing him. “He has no musical talent at all, I’m sure! How would it ever work?”

You scrunched up your face, and stared up at him. His bright red pupils widened as you laughed. “Al, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, what fooey!” Alastor grabbed at your hand before you could pull it away, and it happened. Everything. All the terrible words and looks in his childhood. His mother’s soft smile, and her softer hands cupping his face as tears rolled down his cheeks. Angry voices telling him to leave. The cool feeling of metal under his hands. Warm liquid pooling beneath his feet. The chains wrapped around his throat. The abject hate he felt. The way every single choice he made had to be done precisely. The spark of joy he had to smother around people he loosely defined as friends. The control he desired like smoke in his hands. And then it was gone, and Alastor was giving you an odd look.

“Are you alright, dear?” His head cocked, and the static that constantly coated his words quieted down. His thumb rubbed across your bare skin once, before he pulled his hand away from you, letting it clasp around his microphone.

“Uh, yeah. Zoned out there, for a moment. No worries,” you said, trying to discourage his well-known prodding. You couldn’t handle it, right now. You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t get much sleep, last night, I’m sorry.”

When he finally let it go, and went back to his ranting, your mind slowed down. Now that it had happened, it was only a matter of time before something slipped. Would you die, because of what you knew? Would his master order him to slaughter you, or would he do it happily himself? Or would he use you, thinking that your power could save him, when the inevitable confrontation occurred?

You could only worry and wonder. There was nothing you could do to change it now. And so you kept your mouth shut, and waited.

The inexorable fate that awaited you, came weeks later, when the staff had settled in together to drink. Angel Dust was working, Sir Pentious had squirreled himself away in his room, and Charlie and Vaggie were out having ‘date-night’. The group, including Alastor, were several drinks in.

Husk poured Alastor another drink, rolling his eyes at the Radio Demon’s antics. Alastor was telling a wild tale, and it had you and Niffty cackling, although it seemed she had heard it before.

“And just as he turns back to yell at me, he slips, and falls! Splat! Straight onto the concrete!” Alastor lets out a raving cackle. Niffty giggles, her drink splashing a bit as her whole body shakes. You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, and try to calm your breathing.

“That is so fucked up, Al. Why?” You wheeze. “Why do you do this?”

“Because-” and he hiccups, which sets you off into more giggling. “Because life is a tragedy, and tragedy is hilarious.” He sets his drink down, and slots himself onto your seat, squishing you as he does. “As you know, my dear, I take quite a liking to anything that makes me laugh.”

He’s incredibly drunk, there is no way he isn’t, because he fucking taps your nose with one red claw, and mutters “Boop”, under his breath. You shake your head, feeling like you’ve drank more than you had. Your eyes feel the tiniest bit fuzzy and you laugh at the strangeness of it.

“Are you alright, Al?” You ask, scooting over just a little, trying to get him off of your hip. “You seem out of it.”

Husk grunts, “He’s always like that with whiskey and rye. Should’a seen him a couple years ago-” His voice cuts off, and you look over to see the death glare Alastor is giving him. It settles when the bartender stays quiet with an eye roll. “Oh, whatever.”

Alastor hums, and then returns to looking at you. “You know, my dear, I could really help you out, down here, if we were to make a deal! Imagine setting up your own little clinic, and helping all the wayward souls down here!” He giggles again, and his smile widens. “Or you could manipulate them all to do your bidding with your strange mind medicine!”

You shake your head. “C’mon Al, you know I’m not interested in that.”

Alastor shakes his head, his ears flopping back a little. “Then not that! There is plenty I could give you, for just one, little deal!”

Without thinking, you mutter, “I have no power that can help you with your deal, Al.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and you stare at Alastor as his entire demeanor changes. His eyes are wide, and his pupils are tiny pinpricks of light in his dark sclera. His hand grips at the arm of the couch, and you know you’ve fucked up. Before he can say anything, you dart up, and out of the lounge.

With the sudden surge of adrenaline, you feel nearly sober. Your feet pound at the floor as you dash down the hall, and up the stairs as quickly as you can manage. You slide around a corner, and sprint down a hallway before you hear the static.

The normal white noise has been replaced with a thick static, heavy with screams, and the hall is getting dark. It feels as if the torches on the wall are being snuffed out, even though you can see them still softly glowing in the dark. Your heart pounds, and your breath catches as you hear Alastor’s music playing at a distance. He’s not nearly far enough behind. Is there anywhere in the hotel you could even hide?

It doesn’t matter, because he’s right behind you in only seconds. His form has grown enormous, and he takes up the entirety of the hallway. One large hand stabilizes him by pressing against the wall, and the other wraps around your torso, fingers wrapping around your form easily. He squeezes you, just enough to let you know how much power he has over you, and he brings you level to his face.

“How do you know?” His voice is rough, and deep, and the static and screams re making your head hurt. When you don’t immediately answer, he squeezes just a little, and shakes you. “HOW DO YOU KNOW?”

You let out a rough sob. “I can just tell. If I-” your voice cuts out as you cough from the previous exertion. “If I touch someone, I know just about everything about them, from their mortal life, to here in Hell.” Tears roll down your face, and you heave. “I tried to avoid touching you! It’s why I wear gloves! But you caught me off guard a few weeks ago!”

Alastor’s gaze doesn’t waver, but his expression does, just a little. You keep talking.

“I didn’t tell anyone, and I wouldn’t! That goes so far against my morals. You know that. Haha. Patient confidentiality.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have prevented it, and I wish I could help you now that I know, but I can’t!”

Your form is set on the ground, and you want to curl up, so badly, but you don’t. Instead, you open your eyes, and see Alastor, at his normal size, adjusting himself.

“Yes, well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done.” He flicks his eyes to you. “If you say anything, ever, I’ll gut you, do you understand?”

You merely nod, and he nods in return. He takes a breath, and then offers you a hand, and you take it.

He gives you a sly smile, as you are wiping your face off with his handkerchief. “I’ll get a deal out of you, yet, my dear!” And he says nothing more, as the two of you make your way back downstairs.

You hope, with everything you are, that he doesn’t.

Thank you for reading! My taglist is pinned on my page. I will try to have the two other requests I'm working on out soon! Sorry for the wait. Having a chronic illness, a job, and house huntng is hard, haha!

Taglist: @wen01203 @alastorssimp @girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastorssimp @wen01203 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #bun's short fics #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic

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bunniesanddeer · 1 month

Text

Heat: Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Smut, fingering, fluff, very gentle touches, heat, female anatomy

Word Count: 3,128

It’s barely dawn when he wakes. At first, Alastor isn’t sure what had woken him. Although he was often an early riser, he had figured the long night keeping watch over his soul-bonded would have made him sleep later than usual. He flicks his eyes around the room he had moved them to for a moment. It is after he has taken stock of the room, and the dim, red light filtering through the curtains, that he hears it. His little lamb is whimpering.

Alastor sits all the way up so he can look down at them. His first instinct, had, of course, been to make sure that they weren’t hurt. With the way their brows are scrunched tight, and the soft sounds leaving them, he still wasn’t sure.

“Ma bichette, you should wake.” He settles his hands on their shoulders, going to shake them, but their eyes pop open.

Their eyes, which are normally blue with black sclera, have become black voids. Alastor felt as if he was staring into empty space. It was oddly hypnotizing. As they move, incomprehensible noises escaping them, their scent drifts up to him. It is almost overpowering, and stronger than it had been in the last two days. His head feels heavy, and the itching beneath his skin returns.

“Oh, my dearest, I do believe it has begun.” He kicks back the blanket, to help them untangle their legs. His soul-bonded moves around the bed, their eyes scarcely leaving him for even a moment.

“Alastor,” They whisper. Oh, their voice! It was heavenly, and it only drew him in further. “Alastor, please.”

Their pleading, in their breathy whisper, sends heat down his abdomen. The fiery heat growing within him feels very much like how they had described their symptoms. Every bit of his body felt too confining. But oh! He mustn’t get distracted with his own feelings. His little lamb needed him.

“Come here, ma moitié,” he calls. He opens his arms, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He watches as they hesitate, nose twitching as some instinct calls for them to do. With a tilt of their head, something in them decides he is safe, and they crawl to his lap. His arms immediately wrap around them, pressing them as close to his chest as he can get them. Their heat is the comfort of a roaring fireplace in winter, and it makes him shiver. He drags his nose into the wool atop their head, breathing in deeply. They smell so wonderful; there is something heady, but also something comforting and familiar.

“Mon trésor, can you understand me?” He rubs a claw against their soft cheek, trying to draw their attention. Their ears twitch, and their tail moves at the sound of his voice. “Dearest,” he tries again. “I need you to answer me, if you can. I want to make sure you still want me to help you.”

“Alastor, please. It hurts.” They wiggle back, trying to look him in the eyes. Their pupils are visible again, but only just; they are tiny pinpricks in the void of their eyes. “Please help me.”

Alastor closes his eyes at their request, and his smile loosens. Their request made him feel incredibly strange, as if some ball of energy was bouncing about in his body, begging to be freed. The heat their scent caused, still hadn’t abated. He opens his eyes again, and nods.

“Of course, mon cœur. Do you wish to remove any of this clothing? You are getting quite warm.” Alastor tugs at the thin tee they wear, and they nod. Without any help from him, they pull the shirt over their head, and their chest is revealed.

Alastor’s breath hitches. He had been expecting some sort of undergarment, but it is their bare flesh he sees. He was aware that their chest was rather small, compared to the bodies of other female demons, but it didn’t matter to him. His hands almost immediately cup their breasts, rubbing against their already pert nipples.

His little lamb gasps, their breath stopping for a moment. “Oh,” they start, their voice pitched higher than normal. “That feels nice.”

Alastor takes it as his cue to continue exploring everything they’ve laid bare for him. One hand continues to rub at their, so very soft, chest, and his other hand travels downwards. The skin of their belly is also very soft, a slight give beneath it.

“You are so very soft, little one,” he coos to them. He ducks his face into the junction of their neck, nuzzling against them. He squeezes one of their hips, and they shiver. “What would you like to do? I know it must be getting quite uncomfortable.”

His soul-bonded wiggles, making him pull back so they can move easier. Their eyes seem to scan his form for a moment, before settling on his legs.

“Can-” their voice cuts off, their already flushed face darkening further. “Can I ride your thigh?” They start shivering, as if their little body couldn’t handle the anticipation. “It’s probably the easiest, for now. I think, uh, that you can use your hands later, if you would like.”

Alastor lets his smile soften. They are so nervous, and it makes his chest ache. How sweet and wonderful they were. He nods, gesturing for them to find a comfortable position. Although the idea of them riding his leg, whatever that meant specifically, was new to him, he knew it must be helpful. They seemed so eager, and he wanted them to feel good.

Alastor realizes, as they prop themselves on one of his thighs, closer to his knee than his groin, what exactly they mean. He also notices that they are, in fact, only wearing underwear now. It is a thin, soft, red pair, cut high enough to see where their thighs and pelvis meet. His eyes are glued to the soft skin at the point where they meet. Something, deep inside of him, wants him to bite there, and he couldn’t tell where it came from.

His little lamb settle their hands in front of them, grasping at his thigh for dear life. He watches with fascination as they shift their hips forward. Their entire body seems to light up, breath stuttering.

“Oh,” they shakily exhale. “That’s- that’s good.” Their eyes flutter closed, and their claws scratch his thigh lightly. Alastor nearly falls forward with the shock of such a feeling. No one had ever touched him like that, without meaning harm.

He grasps their hips, as if to steady the both of them, and he leans forward just slightly.

“Come on, ma chérie, do what you must.” His voice drops, the static often accompanying it, gone. “Let me see you ‘ride’ me, dearest.”

His voice spurs them into action, and he watches, as if enchanted. The front of their underwear is darkening, and he can feel something damp soaking through his trousers. (He winces, realizing he had slept in his clothes. It was too late to worry about that, he needed to focus). Alastor lets his thumb sweep up their navel, the other hand cupping their face as they rock their body back and forth.

“Oh, little one, you are so good for me,” he murmurs. They moan, the sound sending his body ablaze. His skin tingles where he touches them, and his groin feels hot and tight. Oh, the things his little soul-bond did to him. Oh, how wondrous! “Yes, ma moitié. Give yourself pleasure, for me.”

“Alastor,” they mewl as their back bows backward. Their heaving breaths draw his attention back to their pert breasts. Unable to stop the strange desire, Alastor catches one of their nipples in his mouth, tongue immediately exploring the surface. They cry out, and their hands clutch at his shoulders. “Oh, please!”

Alastor feels their muscles tighten beneath his hands. He feels each shuddering breath they take, and the way they moan makes his ears twitch. He places one of his hands between their shoulder blades, pressing them closer to his mouth, and he put the other on their hip, guiding them in their rocking.

“Please what, dearest,” he asks. He lets their nipple free from his mouth, and replaces his head back against their neck. His tongue laps against their neck, prompting a groan from them. Their skin tasted of salt, and their unique taste, (one he had not experienced since they had made their deal). “Oh, you taste wonderful, my dear.”

“Alastor, please,” they beg, again. Their hips are still grinding down against his thigh, which is growing noticeably damp from the slick coating their underwear and the junction of their thighs. “Please.”

Alastor breathes in deeply, scratching his teeth along their throat. His hands tighten in his hold of them, and he grinds their hips down into his leg, harder. The ache in his chest growing too hard to ignore, and the heat in the pit of his abdomen, his lightly bites down on their shoulder. And then they’re keening, a high and breathy thing, that makes his ears limp. He bites down harder, licking at their skin roughly. Alastor can’t get enough of every little noise they make, and he wants more.

Alastor lets his voice dip to inhuman levels, and makes his made-for-radio accent drop, he growls,

“Ma Moitie.”

His little lamb gasps, and their hips stutter in their pace. They convulse strangely, all their muscles bunching up tight. He feels their muscles beneath their navel twitch sporadically, and their breath stop. Alastor thankfully has a good grip on them, because they go limp in his arms a moment later.

“Oh, mon cœur, look at you.” He pulls them into his arms so he can settle them back onto the bed. Their eyes are dazed, pupils visible again and blown wide. Alastor feels almost as if they are a little doll, so easily moved and adjusted. When they are finally settled back onto the bed, he lies beside them, searching their face.

“How do you feel, my dear?” He rubs their cheek gently, focusing entirely on their reaction. He can hear the light thumb of their tail against the mattress, (and it makes him thankful that his own is too small to make such a noise. Alastor could feel it twitching the entire time they sat upon his leg).

“Alastor,” they breathe. One of their hands pulls at his suit jacket. “That felt so good.” Their eyes flutter close, and he watches their whole body jerk. “Unfortunately, I don’t think once is enough.”

A grimace crosses their features. Alastor smiles wider, and he rubs their frown lines with his thumb. “Worry not, dear. I am up to the task.” He lets his voice fill with a confidence he does not feel, but he wants this. He wants to make them feel good again, and to end this ‘heat’ that had been forced on them. “You mentioned, that I could use my hands earlier.”

You can still feel your body twitching, the muscles of your pussy clenching around nothing, as you come down from your orgasm. It is while you are still processing the fact that you had ridden Alastor’s thigh like a saddle, that you feel that painful heat in your belly return. It makes your chest seize, and your head feel fuzzy. When you inform Alastor, he almost immediately mentions making use of his hands. Your brain nearly melts.

Although the two of you had been together for some time now, this was your first, even remotely, intimate experience. You had had a handful of kisses, but nothing more than that. He hadn’t even said anything remotely risqué to you! Now here he was, offering to touch you with his hands.

His hands… the thought sent delightful shivers down your spine. His hands were very large, and they were so warm right now. You wanted him to use them to explore every inch of you, to touch you until his every desire was met. Unfortunately, you couldn’t voice more than a, “Yes, please.”

You felt a tiny bit pathetic, at first, but the soft smile on his face stopped that. He almost looked like he actually wanted to. Not just for you, but for him too. The thought made your chest ache, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and tell him everything you felt about him. You could not, however; there were more pressing matters.

Alastor sits up, and presses his back against the backboard of the bed. He curls a claw at you, wanting you to move closer to him.

“Come, my dear. Let’s remove these. They will be very useless in a moment,” he says, pulling at the hem of your underwear. Your face flushes with heat. It was the last scrap covering your skin, and it caused anxiety to grow within you. He hadn’t seen you in such a state before. Would he find this part of you attractive? Did he find you attractive at all? Did he actually want you? Your mind spirals with dreaded questions you couldn’t voice.

“Ma bichette. Come back to me,” he coos, his hands rubbing your chest and one of your hips. “Do you still want me to touch you?”

The soft way he asks nearly makes you cry. How sweet and kind he could be, despite everything. Tears nearly spring to your eyes at how safe he makes you feel. You can do nothing but nods in response, lest you sob as you try to answer.

Alastor holds the back of your head as he leans you back. He pulls your underwear down your legs as he maneuvers them to his liking. Once the cloth is removed and dropped over the side of the bed, he cradles you in his arms, letting your legs go across his lap. “Mwen renmen ou.” His voice is deep and comforting. You have no clue as to what he whispers against your hair, but you let his voice soothe you.

Alastor keeps whispering to you, even as he trails a hand down your navel and around your mound. With a control over his form, that you haven’t yet mastered, he blunts his claws, and trails his fingers over your newly exposed skin. His lips caress your forehead as he shifts a finger to press between the lips of your slit. A ragged breath escapes you, and your eyes fall on his face.

There is this look that you can’t describe, on his face. His eyes are softer than they have ever been, their radiant glow further softening his whole expression. His smile is small, but more genuine than you had seen it in weeks. Then, he starts whispering again, just as one of his fingers catches against your clit.

Your whole body lurches at the sensation. The hand holding your head tightens, and you’re forced to remain prone as he continues exploring you.

“J’adore ton sourire, mon cœur,” he purrs, finger pressing harder against your clit. It sends tingles up your body, and a moan escapes you. “Tu es ma joie de vivre.”

Alastor leans down, and finally presses his lips against yours. Your whole body trembles, and for a moment you see stars. His middle finger is pressing against your entrance as his thumb presses your clit firmly. Combined with his soft, warm lips, you feel overwhelmed. He pulls back, eyes hooded, as he presses his finger into you. Your legs clench, and your eyes flutter. Every worry that you had about the experience fades away as he slowly slides his finger in. Despite how slick you are, there is a lot of friction, making his entrance slower.

“Te me rends fou. Tu ma fait me sentir tout chose,” Alastor coos as he finally presses his finger in, all the way to his knuckle. His thumb rubs at the side of your neck as he grunts. “Si serré.”

“Alastor,” you whisper, your brows furrowing as you try to calm yourself. Your whole body is shaking now, chest and throat tight. You feel like a live wire, electricity coursing through you like a river.

“Yes, my little lamb?” Alastor asks, finally rubbing your clit again. Despite his inexperience, his touches are deft, and gentle. It feels unfair that he be so good at things he hasn’t done before.

“Please. I need it,” you beg, softly. Your back arches as he slowly pulls his finger out, and thrusts back in. You need him to just keep touching you. Anything. It feels better than you could have imagined this feeling.

“Of course, little one.” His forehead touches yours, eyes lidded as he gazes at you. “Does this feel right, my dear?”

You nod, trying to kiss him, but the hand on the back of your head keeps you from turning it too far. A breathy chuckle leaves him, and he kisses you.

As your lips connect again, he sets a pace with his fingers. Sparks flare out from beneath your navel, and it just feels so good. Your hands finally give up trying to find purchase with each other, and you grab at the arm reaching across your belly. Your fingers dig in as he curls his finger.

Alastor leans back from you, watching you closely. “Oh, look at you. Ma bichette. So good for me, aren’t you?”

His words turn up the heat in your belly, and you feel like you’re going to implode. Noises keep escaping you, and your eyes close tightly. You grasp at his hand, and then he twists it. The move sends you crashing over the edge, one you weren’t aware of being on.

Your body is white-hot for a brief moment, and then it all fades to static. Not quite like Alastor’s, but more like the fuzzy TV static. It blankets over you as your muscles spasm. Your lungs stutter and heave, muscles failing to find the rhythm you need. You vaguely hear your own voice muttering, and you can feel Alastor’s hand still.

“Ma moitié. You were so good for me,” Alastor mumbles, his hands cupping your face. “So good.”

“L’ve you, Al,” you whisper, feeling exhaustion crash over you. Your body gives in, and your eyes slide shut. You can feel Alastor stiffen, for just a moment, before he starts whispering words you don’t understand again.

“Que ferais-je sans vous, mon cœur?” Alastor’s voice is still that deep tone that he rarely lets you hear, and it soothes you. Within a few moments, you succumb to the need to sleep.

Alastor would stay vigilant, by your side, for the whole night. Even his own eventual need for rest couldn’t prevent him from whispering sweet words to you, and keeping you safe.

#alastor x reader #bun's short fics #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fluff #fanfic #alastor x reader smut #smut

544 notes · View notes

bunniesanddeer · 1 month

Text

Heat: Part One

Part Two

This was my first attempt at smut, so you will all get to see it now. I hope you'll like it. I originally posted it on AO3. If it is terrible, I apologize. This is also set in the same universe as "Bound to Hell" and "Going Straight to Hell", but it is NOT canon to the official multichapter fic which will be posted when it is half done. So it is the same characters, with a much more developed relationship.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: References to abuse, going into heat, no a/b/o, female anatomy, Rosie being a good friend, references to Soul Bonds, something you can ask about haha. Minors DNI. This part is not explicit, but the next is! Alastor speaks French.

Word Count: 3,690

Alastor knew something was wrong very early on. He hadn’t been able to identify what it was specifically, but it had been unsettling. His shadow had quaked and quivered at something he couldn’t see, and his skin had felt tight. When he had left his room, the sound of crickets in the swamp fading behind him, the feeling had grown worse. It had made the Overlord not quite jumpy, but definitely uncomfortable. Then he saw the cause, stumbling from their room.

His little lamb that was slowly carving out a spot for themself in his cold, dead heart, was the cause. Their wool was disheveled, nearly matted. Their eyelids were drooping low, as if they hadn’t slept. He watched them stumble for a bit before he caught their scent. Due to their bond, and proximity, he was quite attuned to their scent. Normally, they were faintly sweet with a hint of florals, but now? All he could focus on was the deep, heady smell of them. Alastor wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was clearly drastic.

“My dear,” he called. The sound of his voice had made the little demon perk up. They whipped around, and nearly sprinted to his side. They were often enthusiastic to see him in the morning, but this was new.

“Alastor!” Their voice was filled with joy, their eyes full of unwarranted excitement. The exhaustion that had painted their face only a moment before, was gone. Their hands wrapped around his lower arm, and they nuzzled into his side. They cooed, “I missed you.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed. How very peculiar! His little lamb never initiated contact without asking first. He didn’t mind their touch, it was rather pleasing. He enjoyed the softness of their skin, and the gentleness of their hands. They still liked to ask, though, some strange need to make him feel comfortable. (He thought it was unnecessary, he was an Overlord, and he owned their soul; if he wanted them off, they’d be off of him). Not to forget, they had ‘missed’ him? The two had been separated a handful of hours at most. What was going on?

“My dearest, are you feeling alright,” he asked, lifting their chin with his other hand. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

Their eyes wavered, and the exhaustion leeched back into them. The grasp they had on his arm tightened. “I’m sorry, Al. I feel really weird.” Their eyelids fluttered, and they released a strangled breath. “I feel like I’m burning up. Which is weird, it’s winter still.”

Alastor could feel his smile wavering. He hadn’t heard of sinners getting fevers for anything other than strange illnesses. No one else in the hotel was sick, so how could they have contracted anything? He looked them up and down, noting the flush to their cheeks, and the sweat building up on the back of their neck. They were sick.

“Hey, can… can demons get colds?” They asked, almost as if it was a joke. Before Alastor could muster a response, they collapsed. He deftly caught them, his surprise showing on his face.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered to himself. Who would know about these kinds of things? Perhaps Charlie? But she was supposed to be rather busy that day. Perhaps Rosie would know! She had been in Hell for quite a long time. She was bound to know something.

Alastor arranged his little soul-bond in his arms, and stalked back to their room. Their room was full of that smell that had thrown him off just before. It made his skin tingle, and his head feel full. He couldn’t account for it, but it wasn’t something he disliked. The discomfort came from the confusion that was growing in his breast. What a strange sensation!

Alastor wrapped them up in their blankets, hoping that perhaps getting warmer would help their fever. Before he stepped away from their bedside, he stroked their cheek with the back of his fingers. How soft their skin was! He stared down at their little face, taking in every detail. The white freckles that looked like stars against their gray skin, the way their lashes fluttered in their sleep. Their plush lips, just barely open, and the sharp teeth he knew lay behind them. His chest tightened, something aching deeply, as he looked at them. His smile tightened. Alastor decided it was time to go.

On the way out of the hotel, he called for Husker. The cat-demon was clearly disgruntled at being called on earlier than he’d prefer, but Alastor didn’t care.

“My little lamb seems to be sick. They’re in bed right now. If they don’t stir before noon, wake them up and make them eat something.” Alastor let the underlying threat color his words. He wouldn’t have their situation get worse just because Husker wanted to be lazy. They would eat, before he got back, and then he would help them get better. But first, he needed to know what was wrong.

“Alastor! My good friend! What brings you in on such a fine day!” Rosie’s fervor was nearly infectious, but Alastor had a mission. The feather on her hat bobbed as she tilted her head in question.

“Ah, I seem to have a problem,” Alastor replied. “Do you mind if we perhaps have a conversation in a less, public space?”

The deer-demon glanced about, as if to remind her of their location. Rosie nodded, still smiling happily. She gestured with a flick of her wrist, and led the way to the back of her store.

When the two had finally settled into their seats, Alastor sighed. Rosie went about pouring some tea for them as he worked on his words. He conjured his microphone, idly tapping it. Something heavy weighed in his chest, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Oh Alastor! You know you’re my favorite pal! Just tell me what’s on your mind. You look all twisted up!” Rosie sat back in her chair, sipping from a teacup that she held delicately. Her smile was welcoming and patient, and it soothed Alastor minutely.

He was thankful for her breaking the silence, as it forced him to finally speak. “Do you know what might cause a sinner to get sick? Even if they have not been exposed to anything?”

Rosie hummed to herself, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Oh, this is about your little paramour, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s smile twitched, faintly. Of course! Rosie would be able to tell immediately. She was intelligent, and she was better at reading people than even himself. Not to mention, the two of them had been friends a long time. She could read him like an open book.

“Yes,” he admitted. “They seem to be sick, and I don’t know what it could be. I’ve never seen nor experienced such a thing, here.” His claws tap at the armrest of the plush chair, as he props his chin up with the other hand. “They looked positively dreadful this morning! Claiming that they felt hot, despite the cold.”

Rosie set down her teacup, letting a hand cover her smile as she laughed. “Oh dear! That is quite something.” She laughed again when Alastor let his annoyance show. “They’re a sheep, are they not?”

Alastor nodded, not quite knowing what that aspect of his little soul-bond had to do with it.

“And they are female, yes?” Alastor nodded again, his confusion growing. “Oh dear. You said some time ago that they had reciprocated the soul-bond, yes? And they’ve been down here for several months now.”

Rosie trailed off, as if expecting him to suddenly understand what she was implying. Alastor couldn’t think of how any of that had made them sick. Rosie picked up on how deeply confused he was, and sighed.

“My, my. You really don’t know about how demon manifestations work, beyond what pertains to yourself, do you?” Rosie waved a hand. “As you know, the form we take in death often have something to do with our life. The way we died, the way we lived, all of it contributes in one way or another. Lambs, sheep, whatever you want to call them, tended to have harder lives where they had no control. Often dealing in their bodily autonomy, or lack thereof.”

Alastor’s smile shrunk. Well of course, he had known what their life had been, but seeing that their new form was a reminder of that, each day? It made him uncomfortable. He hoped that his little lamb didn’t know why they were a lamb.

“Yes, I see that you have connected some of the dots. They’re lambs to the slaughter, all of them in one way or another. Their forms, because it’s Hell, often come with some terrible side effects that don’t show for a while. Their stress needs to level out, and they need to feel comfortable with the demons they are frequently near.” Rosie raises her brows, waiting for him to get it, but he doesn’t. “When they’ve settled, and they’re around demons they like, or they bond, the side effects kick in. Your little lamb, is experiencing that now.”

“So, they will get sick, because they’re comfortable?” Alastor feels mildly bamboozled, as he tries to clarify.

“Alastor, no,” Rosie sighs. She rubs her forehead, carefully avoiding cutting herself with her claws. “They’re in heat.”

Alastor shifts in his seat, that uncomfortable feeling tingling in his brain again. “Heat? Like, like an animal?”

“Yes, like a ewe, Alastor. They will seem sick, for about a day, then they will be clingy with you for the next, and then it will happen.” Rosie leans back in her chair, again. Unlike Alastor, she seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of discussion. “They will have the strongest drive for sex that they will have ever experienced. Going without is said to hurt terribly, like their whole body is on fire. They’ll seek out comfort in you, or by themself. Whatever quells the urge.”

Alastor felt like he had been shot. Never in all his years, alive or dead, had he heard of such a thing occurring. How tedious! How disgusting. His nose scrunched up at the thought of having to deal with such a thing himself, but the thought of his lamb… Heat rushed down his chest and into the pit of his belly. His skin was itching. The thought of his soul-bonded needing him in such a way… Alastor could not tell himself that he disliked such an idea.

He was deeply aware of how much he had grown to care for them. When he had finally relinquished some control in their relationship, offering to tie their little string tight on his end, he knew it was cemented. Alastor had a bizarre, and new, kind of love for the sweet thing he had made a deal with. They were his, and for the first, and only time, he could say, he was also theirs. He still owned their soul, but it was different. Their relationship had shifted over time. There were no more orders, and there was no more fear. His little lamb had grown comfortable, happy even, and this ‘heat’ was the proof.

Something akin to pride ignited in his chest. Yes, they were happy with him. What a delightful thing to know for sure!

“What should I do? I am not ready for anything of that nature, and I don’t want to risk them. They have had far too many choices taken from them,” Alastor says. His hands clasp together as he gives Rosie a moment to think. He didn’t want them forced into such an awful thing again. The realization that their experiences in life had caused this…anger was a word that barely described his feelings on the matter. He wanted to tear whatever being was in charge of such transformations into pieces.

“They will need something, at some level. Tomorrow, bring it up to them, ask. Let them know everything you know, and give them a choice. They can try and ride it out alone, or you can be beside them. How you handle it beyond that is between the two of you.” Rosie stands, a gentle smile on her face. “You should get going, my friend. You should get back to them. You’ll want to feed them well over these two days. They’ll need the energy, no matter what happens.”

Alastor stands, thanking her, almost absentmindedly. His trip back to the hotel is spent in silent pondering. He needed to plan. He wasn’t sure if sex was something he desired for himself, but he knew, deep down, he would do it for them; he’d give them that pleasure, that joy. Alastor could also feel something possessive growing. The idea of anyone else getting to commit themselves to such a task made him grit his teeth. No, if anyone was going to touch the sheep-demon, it would be him.

Angry flames licked at the bottom of his belly, something in his thoughts igniting them. They were his, and his alone. He would be the one to drive them to pleasure. (He ignored the memory of Richard and his deeds. None of that changed anything about what they deserved. It just meant that he needed to more carefully heed their wants and needs. He would give them the bliss that no other had).

Alastor smiled widely when he returned to the hotel. Now he needed to sit by their side for the night, and then speak with them tomorrow. Perhaps a quick discussion with the others as well? The two of them would not be available for the next few days, and he needed to make sure they would remain undisturbed. Perhaps a different location would be ideal.

When you woke, all you could focus on was the smell of food. Alastor was a very good cook, and you knew from the lovely smell of spices, that it had to have been his food. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you were delighted to find yourself right. The demon was sitting on the edge of your bed, a steaming bowl cupped in one of his hands.

“Good morning, dearest,” he said. There was something akin to apprehension on his face, but you were far too hungry to immediately comment on it. “I figured you would be quite hungry, when you awoke, so I took the liberty of making you something hardy.”

You smiled widely in thanks. How sweet he could be to you! It was new, in your relationship, but you loved it. You held out your hands, thanking him as you did, but he didn’t hand you the bowl. Alastor merely gestured for you to sit up, and scoot back. You did so, hesitantly, your back settling against your headboard. You held out your hands again, but he settled himself close to you on the bed. With his legs swung over the side, he started spooning the stew.

“No, hey, wait a minute! I can feed myself!” You glared at him, confusion and a tinge of anger mixing together.

Alastor sighed, affection leaking into his words. “I know, my love, but I need to tell you something quite…hmm, difficult might be the best word here. I want you to just listen, and focus on eating. Plus, I just love taking care of you.” One of his hands edges towards your face, claws softly stroking your cheek. He pulls it back, and spoons some more stew. “You can ask questions when I am done, but for now, eat.”

You grumble to yourself before opening your mouth to accept the spoon. Although you were loath to admit it, the stew tasted great, and him feeding you only felt slightly patronizing.

“Do you recall how you felt yesterday? You said you felt like you were burning up. Well, when you fainted, I went to find out what could be the cause. I went to my good friend Rosie, you remember her?” He lets you nod before feeding you another spoonful. “I came to the conclusion that she would know enough about Hell, to know what was causing your sudden illness.

“So I described it vaguely, and she realized I was talking about you, dearest. And she said some things that upset me, more than I had been willing to admit at the time.” Alastor sighs, static, that seemed ever present in his voice, fizzling out. The room was quiet for a moment as he let you swallow your food. “The way we manifest in Hell, has to do with the way we lived, and died. The things we experienced. I know you know some of this, but I also found out something more specific about your form.”

Alastor goes quiet, and you frown. Whatever could he have learned to cause the demon that never stops talking to go quiet?

“Sheep demons are often the result of lives lived that had very little control over themselves or their situation. You are a sheep, because you had such little bodily autonomy in your life, my love.” He feeds you another spoonful as your eyes widen. He snorts to himself. “It made me so incredibly angry, to have that confirmed to me. It only got worse when she finally told me why that had anything to do with your illness.

“You aren’t sick. You are experiencing a ‘heat’, as she called it. It’s a side effect of being a sheep, or more specifically a female, sheep demon. It occurs when the individual has been comfortable with the demons in their vicinity and stress-free for a time. Soul-bonds can trigger this too.”

Your brows scrunched up, and you swallowed the food before you had finished chewing. It hurt your throat, but the urge to grimace was too strong. How fucking terrible. It felt like you couldn’t escape anything from your life. Your eyes drifted to the wall. You couldn’t even make eye contact with Alastor. His gaze felt heavy on you, and all you wanted to do was hide.

“I’m sorry, dearest. You need to know what ‘heats’ are, though. Then we can talk about what you would like to do about it.” Alastor sets the bowl down on your bedside table, taking the hint that you couldn’t eat right then. One of his hands tugs at yours, large claws wrapping around your whole hand easily. “Yesterday, the fever and the exhaustion, was the first day. The second, which is today, it’s common for the affected individual to be clingy, especially with a bonded pair.” His thumb stroked the back of your wrist, as he continued. “Tomorrow, the actual ‘heat’ occurs. You will be driven to-”

Alastor cuts himself off with a cough, and it draws your gaze. “Sorry, my dear. I’ll continue. You will want to have sex. The desire will become a need, and it will consume you. I have been told that it can hurt, to go without, but that it is possible to handle alone. This is what I would like to talk to you about.”

Your nose twitches, and your lips quiver. Of course, this would be thrust on you. How could you deal with this? The idea of sex still unsettled you. However, he mentioned that it could be handled alone. Did he mean masturbation? Would something other than penetration work? Your thoughts whorled in your head, when one stuck to the forefront.

The image of Alastor holding you tightly to his chest, hand cupping your navel and exploring lower, made your brain halt. The thought of his fingers rubbing at your clit, and his wonderful voice whispering in your ear. Him touching you gently, talking you through the whole ordeal, and bringing you to orgasm, lit up your mind. You suddenly wanted it more than anything. You didn’t need penetration from him, but you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Your cheeks flushed, and fluttering erupted beneath your navel. Alastor’s eyebrows raised as he took in your appearance. You were so glad that he couldn’t read your thoughts. How embarrassing, especially because he wasn’t the biggest fan of being touched.

The heat subsided as you remembered that detail. That would complicate things. The idea of being left alone, right now, made you want to cry. You hoped he didn’t want you to handle it by yourself. If all he could do was be in the same room, you would take it over being alone.

“I know that neither of us are at the point where…sexual intercourse would be the best action. However, I don’t want you to deal with it alone. As new as this will be for me, I would like to be there for you. To help you with it, if you so desire.” Alastor leans in towards you, one of his hands cupping your face. “I would bring you pleasure, and help this ‘heat’ end for you, my love.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, letting his breath fan across your face as you think. You want him with you, badly.

Alastor chuckles, making you look at him. “I can do that, my dear.”

Oh. You had spoken out loud. (Your brain feels like it's melting. It feels hard to think, but you push through). Your cheeks flush again.

“Please, stay with me. I don’t want sex, but I would like your help, if you would give it to me.” Your eyes shift off of his face, shame curdling in your stomach. “I don’t know how to help myself very well, as it is. I would like to learn, with you, if I could.”

Alastor suddenly grabs both sides of your face, his own getting closer. “Look at me, my little lamb. You are deserving of such pleasures, and I would gladly help you. We can learn together, dearest. We can stop if you are ever uncomfortable, I swear it. I would never take advantage of such a situation.”

You smile at him. “Same for you, Al. If you don’t wanna touch me, or vice versa, just let me know. I can figure something out.”

Alastor’s smile softens, and his pupils expand. “Oh, love, worry not. The desire to touch you in such a way has been growing, and the thought has been stuck in my head all night.” His thumbs rub your cheeks, gentler than you had ever felt him be.

Your chest aches, and the sudden need to cry grows within you. You love this strange demon, despite everything that had happened in the last months. He was growing to be so good to you, and it made your heart hurt.

“Can I kiss you,” you ask, your volume barely above a whisper.

Alastor answers by molding his lips to yours. His skin is cool to the touch, but compared to the fire you were bathed in the day before, it was Heaven. One of his hands clutched the back of your head, brushing by your sensitive ears. A sound breaks free from your throat, and it makes him press into you harder. You clutch at his suit jacket, your lungs starting to burn. Before you can grow lightheaded, (although you definitely were from just kissing him, just not suffocating), he pulled back from you.

“That was splendid, ma chéri.” His voice dips lower, his fake radio accent slipping.

You bask in his presence, as you think over what tomorrow will entail. Although he feeds you a few more times that day, and you talk more about how you feel about it, nothing could prepare you for the full force of the ‘heat’. When he transports you to a room that you haven’t been before, you let your curiosity numb your anxiety. Worrying about it wouldn’t help you, anyway.

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bunniesanddeer · 1 month

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Bound to Hell

This is the companion work to "Going Straight to Hell". This is from the reader's POV. Minors DNI

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Violence and sexual assault against a minor is referenced. Revenge, demon deals, etc. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8,349

You’ve known for a long time that your soul would be bound for Hell. From the moment your mother died, you’ve been slowly corrupted. When you finally realized that no matter what the afterlife looked like, it wouldn’t be good for you, you cried yourself to sleep. You had stared into the mirror the next day, wondering if someone would be able to see it in your face. Would people know at a glance that you were disgusting— that you were a lost cause? Although you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t your fault, the thoughts still swirled in your mind each night.

It was late one evening that you finally gave up. You had long foregone begging to be freed from your living hell, but something in the way your hips ached, and your chest hurt pushed you. When the night finally felt late enough, you curled into the corner of your bed, and you begged. You cried, and wept, and whispered for some higher power to save you. Whatever could you have done for this to last so long? You deserved freedom. You deserved kindness. And so with your heart on your sleeve, already bruised and battered, you called for a savior.

“Please,” you keep repeating, as many times as it takes. “Anyone. I need this to end. I need help.” You sob and pull your knees to your chest. Your skin aches from the way you dig your nails into your arms. You keep doing it anyway; it feels like the only thing keeping you awake. “Please just help me end it. I’ll do anything.”

Then, there is a shiver that crawls down your spine, cold and dreadful. There is a sudden feeling of being watched, and it is something you’ve never experienced quite this way. You sit up, your head whipping around, trying to catch sight of whatever is in your dark room with you. You can’t see much, but that only makes the feeling worse; you are absolutely sure that someone is in the room with you.

“Who’s there?” Your voice is quiet, but in the silence of the room, it feels like you are screaming. You cross one set of fingers, hoping that nothing responds.

There’s a clicking sound, sudden and loud. Then the stereo on your desk flares to life. The radio dial flickers back and forth, static bursting forth. You jump at the sudden noise, and stare at the desk. There’s no way that just happened.

“Hello?” You call into the hopefully empty room. Your eyes flicker around the room, trying to see anything at all.

“HEL-” A voice nearly screams from the stereo, and you shriek.

“What the FUCK!”

You push yourself back so that you’re flush with the wall, and you try to slow your breathing. You don’t need to be having a panic attack at this time of night.

“Hello! Can I speak now?” The voice continues, strange and warbled. The static is thicker than you’ve ever heard from a radio station. It wasn’t often a problem anymore, and it confused you. Not to mention, the man, (although you weren’t sure that it was a man), had an accent that you hadn’t heard anyone have.

“Are you talking to me?” You grab at your knees, swallowing hard.

“Ha! Of course, I’m talking to you!” The voice laughs, and part of you feels patronized. There’s something in his tone that sets your nerves alight. Something is seriously wrong. Not to mention, it feels like you are having a strange dream. “I couldn't help but hear you calling for help, dear!”

You immediately doubt his words. He sounds so fake, as if he was on a TV show. You settle yourself, still subtly looking around the room. You wouldn’t be surprised if this owner of the strange voice is in the room with you.

“You seem to be having quite the problem, and I’d like to offer my services!” His voice trills, his volume nearly pushing them to their limits. You glance at the door, suddenly remembering Richard. God, if he walked in now… “However, I can’t help you unless you call my name with the intention of making a deal. It’s the rules, unfortunately.”

A snort escapes you. What the hell was this? Some children’s book? It reminded you of a cartoon. “Like Beetlejuice?”

“I have no idea what that is, my dear.” He sounded genuinely confused, and it made you want to laugh. Whatever this guy was, there was a good chance he wasn’t human. Something in the way he talked, made it feel like he was positioning himself above you. It was strange, but it was like you instinctively knew something that your conscious brain couldn’t pinpoint.

“Ah,” You mutter. You stay silent, trying to let your brain catch up with everything. Part of you feels like you need to remember all of this. It’s as if a single detail could be the difference, so you stay put and think.

“I don’t know what your name is,” You say some time later. You frown, and glare at the stereo on your desk. If this was a dream, you were going to be annoyed. You wouldn’t put it past your desperate brain, though. Whatever would keep it from blipping out of existence.

“I’ll tell you in just a moment! Fret not!” Static pours into the silence. He’s thinking mighty hard about something, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your arms. He’s planning something. “I just wanted to tell you that I could help you with whatever your problem might be, if only you called me. Nothing is too big or small.”

You turn towards the door, and a thought immediately comes to mind. Richard. Your nails dig into your palm, and you grit your teeth. You could have his blood spilled into the tile. If this thing speaking to you is real, it could be done. Something twists at your heart, and suddenly you want it with such desperation. You want to be free. He needs to die.

“What’s your name,” you demand. You keep your voice flat, but confident— you won’t look like a fool, or an easy target for this strange thing’s whims. You want to know if it could be done, but you know you need more information first.

“The name’s Alastor, darling! Who might I be speaking to?” His voice is full of tenacity, as if he knows what you will ask of him. Something he says catches your ear, more than the rest, though.

“Shouldn’t you know my name?” You figured if God or angels, or whatever, were real, that they would know your name. (Some lost memory of someone telling you something about angels flickers in your mind. Aren’t angels supposed to not tell you their name?) Something is wrong.

There is suddenly a surge of tingling across your body, and it feels heavy, oppressive. “No, dear. I am a demon, straight from Hell, here to provide you my services!” His laughing grates your nerves, and the words set your veins on fire.

You can feel your expression fall, as anger surges up. Of course! Of course, when you finally get an answer, it’s from some malevolent force, and not something that actually wants to help you! He will want something from you, you know it in your bones. You don’t know if you will be able to pay the price.

“Why the long face, dear?” He laughs, static popping and crackling as he does. You start crying softly as you hear his joy. There is something so wrong about someone taking the joy in this, as he does.

“I guess I should have known that if there was some higher power, they wouldn’t help me. Guess it would end up being some demon.” A bitter laugh rips from your throat, and you duck your head between your knees. You were never worth saving, it seems. Why bother? What was worse than this? Dread settles on you as you think about how this has just confirmed how little you are worth.

“I’m not just some demon, darling. I’m the Radio Demon! Powerful overlord of Pentagram City!” He sounds angry as he protests your assumptions of his power. You scoff to yourself. So the guy has an ego, big fucking surprise.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You lie down on your side. This conversation is exhausting, even for something that might not even be real. You just want him to leave. “I’ll think about it. If you’re actually real, and not just some strange thing my mind made up to keep me here.”

“Well then! I will speak to you again, dear! Remember, just call my name with intention, and I’ll appear!” He says it with surety, to the point where you think you will call for him. You hear a click, as the dial for the stereo turns, and then it is silent in your room again. Just you and your far too angry thoughts. Could you do it? Could you call on this demon to help you kill Richard?

You scream, throwing a plate against the wall. It shatters into a bunch of pieces, and you wince. That won’t be fun to clean up, or explain. You sigh, and go to find the broom, ruminating on the morning’s events.

Richard had been especially grumpy, pulling you from your room by your hair. He’d pushed you to make breakfast, complaining on and on about work. You hated him complaining about things he didn’t even let you do, it was ridiculous. He was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted, and he threw you around like a rag doll, but some guy misplacing his shit was the worst thing ever? Richard was ridiculous, you were sure. The man had the worst priorities, like trying to break your jaw when you told him ‘no’.

You wanted him dead, you were sure of it, but you weren’t sure how to go about it. You knew the end result would be your life being taken too, but the tradeoff didn’t seem too bad. Richard wouldn’t hurt another soul if you took him down with you. Maybe you could find a way to burn down the house while he was asleep? No, that wasn’t a guarantee, so you needed something else. Stabbing him wouldn’t work unless you were making breakfast. The man kept too close of an eye on you when you were cooking, though. Maybe strangling? Richard often fell asleep for a bit after finishing, leaving him vulnerable. Maybe you could—

The demon! If he was real, he might be the key. You would call on him, as soon as you were done sweeping up your mess.

You dumped the broken pieces into the trash, and put away the broom, deciding you would go back to your room. Something didn’t want you to invite him into the rest of the house. You heeded the feeling, and went to your room. You only had an hour or so until Richard was home, but it would be enough.

The door clicked behind you, and you settled in front of it. You weren’t quite sure how to call, but figured starting with the demon’s name would be right. You closed your eyes, and let out a breath.

“Alastor,” you called softly, peeking one eye open after a moment. Nothing. Maybe you were doing it wrong? Taking a deeper breath, you spoke steadily. “Alastor, I want to make a deal.”

Your room erupted with heat for a brief moment, and it made your eyes pop open. A shadow was creeping unnaturally off the ground, and forming a solid shape. The demon! His appearance sent a shock through you.

Alastor was incredibly tall, nearly seven feet, the little tufts on his head putting him over that. The little tufts were the same color scheme as his hair, and scraped the ceiling. His hair was cut almost into a bob, and was a bright red with red-black ends. His eyes were just as red as the rest of him, (honestly, he was mostly red, which was a strange sight in your drab-colored room), with glowing irises and black slits for pupils. The pupils shift to you as you take in his bright, old-fashioned suit. His hands only have four fingers, and his fingers end in sharp claws. You gulp at the thought of them touching you, they would surely tear your skin with barely a press.

You fall forward just a bit, your hands catching the carpet beneath you. Alastor is definitely a demon. Nothing else could look like this. Your brain feels like it’s melting as you try to comprehend that Hell is indeed real, and so are the demons that come with it.

The demon pulls a strange cane out of thin air, spinning it as he surveys you and your room. The smile on his face hasn’t budged a bit, and it makes you uncomfortable. Then he’s looking at you, cocking his head. The tufts on top shift, drawing your gaze for a moment.

“You’re real,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. You shake your head, and then decide you need some bravery. You push yourself up onto shaky legs, and move a little closer to him. His sharp smile, (man, he has only sharp teeth, how does he chew?) grows as you do.

“That I am, my dear!” He leans his body towards you, and his face gets very close. His eyes look even more alien, up close. There seems to be swirling in his pupils, green flames flickering every few moments. Then, you try to breathe, and your nose burns. He smells awful. You imagine it is the smell of an open grave on a hot day, and it nearly makes you gag. You wince, and take a step away from him.

“Uh, sir, you smell real bad,” you say, trying not to let all of your disgust show. You put your hands up, already surrendering, as his eyes shift. Shit.

“What?” He asks, static heavy in his voice. (You wanted to know how he does the static thing. It was weird, but kind of cool, and it also hurt your ears). He’s definitely annoyed, and it makes you wince again.

“Yeah, sorry. You smell like an overripe corpse. It’s downright foul.” You perch yourself on your bed, picking at a stray thread. Whatever it would take to avoid his eyes. They made you want to squirm in your seat, like a child who got caught doing something they weren't meant to. You finally settle, and glance at him. “Right, uh, sorry. Meant to introduce myself, but that really threw me off track. Hi.” You give him your name, softly, waving a little with one hand. (You want to smack yourself. What is wrong with you? This is absolutely not how you should talk to a demon, who has more power, you think, than you could imagine).

He repeats your name back to them with a flourish of his cane. Something in the way he says it makes you shiver. “Well, hello to you too! I was quite hoping you’d call on me, and now here we are!” His grin widens, something dark leaking into it. “Are you ready to make a deal?”

You shake your head. You want to make a deal, but not yet; you need more details. “No, I wanted to-”

You don’t get even a moment to explain yourself, when he explodes.

Your room is suddenly far too dark, shadows at the edges almost seeming to turn solid. His body grows, the sound of cracking bones making your stomach turn. Antlers stretch across his head, scratching at the ceiling, the gouges deep. Your eyes widen, and you push yourself away from him as his face warps.

If he was a little frightening before, he is downright terrifying now. His mouth is all sharp teeth, opening as if to take a gouge out of you. His eyes have turned black, the pupils changing to an almost dial shape. A bright red ‘x’ forming on his forehead. His claws sharpen, and start to reach towards you. His shadow, that you only just noticed, moves independently, crawling along the ceiling. It starts to grab at you, as well.

You finally yelp, and tears pour down your face. Dear God, what was that? You want to tear your skin off. You grasp at the blanket you had unknowingly pulled over yourself, watching as he shakes his head.

His eyebrows hitch down as he shrinks, and he lets light back into the room. The smile is still fixed in place, but something about it seems tighter, as if it’s more of a struggle to keep. He hums to himself, as if deep in thought, and you can only watch. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.

“Oh dear, I hadn’t meant to frighten you! Merely lost some of my self-control, there, dearest!” He sounds far too chipper, and it grates on your already frayed nerves. You hadn’t meant to upset him, whatever you did, you just wanted info. He did want to make a deal, right?

Alastor places his hands behind his back, the cane disappearing as he does. (‘Still so weird! How does he do it,’ you think). He tilts his head just slightly, and for a moment he reminds you of a puppy. The tufts tilt towards you, and you realize that they’re ears! The thought calms you down just a bit. He looks so strange, but his ears make you want to laugh, and it gives you the calm to speak up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. You stare down at his, admittedly fancy, shoes. “I just wanted to know how a deal would work, so I could make one with all the information I needed.”

Alastor stiffens, and it makes you finally look at him properly. With a wave of his hand, the chair at your little desk pulls back, and plops himself right into it. He looks silly, his giant being stuffed into a tiny, wooden chair.

“Sorry, darling! Hadn’t meant to give you the heebie-jeebies. I got a little ahead of myself!” He props his head up with one hand under his chin, his other hand twirling his cane. “Do you have questions? You can ask away!”

You settle some more, and let go of the blanket you had in a death-grip. “What… what do I have to give you, in a deal?” You feel sure that you know already, but the question just makes his smile grow even larger, somehow.

He leans forwards, his eyes hooded, and he looks hungry. It sends shivers down your spine, and something in the back of your mind starts screaming, “Your soul. And because you’re still living, your life as well, depending on what you want. Your soul would be mine for eternity, and you would serve me in Hell.”

You knew it. Your soul would be the cost of whatever you asked of him, and he would take your life too. Although you wouldn’t mind him doing the deed himself, the soul bit makes you uncomfortable. You just found out you do have a soul, and he is already asking for it? Maybe that’s your fault, you did want to know about deals.

“I was going to kill myself anyway, so you can have it.” You state factually.

“Oh, were you?” He goads, his hands flexing as he watches you move around on your bed. You fix your glare on him as you nod.

“Yes. No matter what happens, I’ll end up dead. If I do it this way, it’s on my own terms.” You can only think of Richard as you tell the demon what you plan to do. If it wasn’t for him, none of it would be necessary. He’s ruined your entire life, and all you want to do is ruin his in return.

“Well, do tell! You can’t just leave me with that! Tell me what’s in that noodle of yours!” He swings his cane at you, looking delighted. “Come on!”

You sigh, nearly fed up with how strange he is. “Fine. I need you to tell me what you can do, first. What are the limits to this deal?” You need anything you can get. Are you going to damn yourself, or let your soul get torn to bits for something useless? No. Not even you are that desperate.

He hums, thinking about his answer. “I can do near anything, dear! Anything your little heart desires can be yours!”

You nod, and huff to yourself. “Fine. I’ll tell you what my problem is, and then I’m gonna tell you exactly what I hope to get out of this.” You sit up straighter, glaring at him as you do, and cross your arms. “It ain’t pretty, though, so don’t go blaming me if you get bored or grossed out by details.” You sneer at him, trying to quell the anger rising in you.

“Oh darling, I promise I have seen and heard much worse. Worry not, your little head!” His grin widens, and you want to hate him. How dare he find some sick form of entertainment in your despair? You want to kick his stupid, sharp teeth in.

“There is a man in my house that I have had the displeasure of living with for several years. I was thirteen when my mom met him.” You stare off into the distance, as too sharp memories prickle at your mind. “He was nice at first, and he was good for my mom. She had been distraught when my dad died. I was the adult in the house for a little while, and then she met Ric- Richard. He had been really nice at first. He helped around the house. He got my mom into therapy. Encouraged me in my classes. He made it clear he wasn’t trying to replace my dad, but he was good for a while. My mom loved him. They got married. He adopted me some time after that. Things were good.” You close your eyes, trying not to cry. You think of how your dad would feel about everything that’s become of you. Would he blame you, or would he gut Richard? Richard always blamed you, and part of you believes him.

Your eyes open, and flick to him. All you can feel is despair slowly corrupting into fiery indignation. You wanted Richard gone. You wanted your skin reclaimed, and cleansed of his filthy sins. Alastor seems to light up at the expression on your face. He leans forward, eyes wide with interest.

“The first time he touched me, I was fourteen. Mom was over at the hospital with grandma overnight. I was home with Ri- Richard alone. It was the first time it had happened. I was in the kitchen, reaching for something in a cabinet, and he came up behind me. He grabbed my ass, and squeezed hard. I remember being too shocked to really say anything. I just stumbled back, watching him as he laughed it off. He didn’t apologize, just said he hadn’t meant to.

“I spent a couple of days trying to decide if I should tell my mom. I didn’t get the chance. She got into a car accident leaving work. Died before we could even get to the hospital.”

A bitter laugh wracks your body as they watch him. “Wanna guess who I got stuck with, because this motherfucker adopted me?”

Alastor stiffens, and you realize he didn’t know what had made you call for him. You figured he knew, and had been drawing it out of you as some sick form of torture. The thin veil of discomfort you can see on his face just slightly endears you to him. Perhaps he didn’t like such a thing?

“Yeah. You can imagine that I’d get to properly mourn my mother, but I never got the chance. He’d crept into my bed that night, using his tears against me.” You wave at yourself with a tired hand. “I’m small, you know? I’ve been about this height since I was thirteen. Five feet and two inches. I’ve got nothing on him, especially because at the time my weight was dwindling because of stress. You can imagine how damn easy it would be to toss me around like a rag doll.”

Alastor’s ears perk forward, and his eyes seem distant. Your face twists. He’s probably thinking about tearing you into pieces, or whatever strange demons did. You shake your head off the off-topic thoughts, and think of Richard again.

“He’s raped me, many, many times. I haven’t experienced a kind touch that wasn’t to trick me since my mom was alive. The motherFUCKER-” You sit up on your knees, hand falling forward to clutch the edge of your bed. A deep desire for violence fills up your entire being. You pant, a growl rumbling in your throat as you imagine what you would do to him. “Has stopped me from going to school many times, so I couldn’t show up hurt. Then that fucking VIRUS happened, and no one could see what was happening to me. I was trapped. Now that things are fine again, I should be able to leave and get a job, but he’s trapping me here. I’m stuck!”

You let out a guttural yell, rolling off the bed and onto your feet. You pace, and shake your hands around. “He’s DESTROYED me. He’s taken and taken and taken from me! I’m fucking done.” You stop moving, and look Alastor straight in the eyes. “I want to keep him from ever doing anything to anyone else. The justice system won’t fucking work. It never does! I want to rip his fucking heart from his chest while he watches. I want to make him beg, and scream like he’s done to me. I want to tear him to pieces over and over and-”

You collapse to the floor in a heap of tears. What has become of you? What bastard decided your fate would be to suffer Richard, and his aftermath? You rip at your hair, trying to pull yourself back. You felt a cool hand on your back, and you raised your head. Alastor was crouched beside you, and it seemed out of place for him. It made you feel weird.

“Oh, do stop that, dear. You mustn’t do that. You want to look your best when we send you off to slaughter the man, don’t you?” His voice sounds almost soft, tinged with something you can’t pinpoint. It makes you frown.

You can only think of your fate, now. Were you ever destined for heaven? Were there any versions of you that could make it? You tug at your lips with your teeth, nearly ripping an old scab as you worry.

“Do you think I’d go to Heaven if I didn’t do it?” You ask, watching him. His smile shifts. He seems to be thinking hard on his answer. You wonder why, briefly.

“I am unsure, dear. Who knows why one gets to Heaven? There are plenty of sinners in Hell for the littlest of things. I want you to know, though, you sure won’t get to Heaven if you kill yourself!” He laughs, and it makes you glare at him, albeit weakly. He stands up, towering over you. Your stomach twists. “You said you wanted him dead, darling! Now is your chance! Imagine all the other little boys and girls he’ll hurt if you let him live.”

That bastard. You feel called out, but he’s right. What else can you do? Your eyes flicker about as your mind races? What can you do? He offers you a hand as you nod at him. He helps you stand and then promptly drops your hand.

“Now, are you ready to make a deal?” His voice is sharp, the static crackling loudly again.

You sigh, and avoid his eyes. “Not today. I need some time to think about everything. Can you tell me what Hell is like? So I can get an idea of what I’m headed towards.”

If you were going to damn yourself, you wanted to know what you were going to. Would it be worth it to make a deal with him, kill Richard and be his? Or would avoiding Alastor, and just doing it all yourself, be better? Would Alastor even help? Or is he more of a plan for the aftermath? You haven’t decided.

“Now that is a fun topic! Hell is full of vicious sinners; the worst of the worst! And just about everyone else too! Ha ha!” He laughs, and it makes you shiver. He clearly has fun down there. “There’s plenty of suffering! People out on the streets stabbing each other! Swindling each other out of everything they have! There’s even cannibals!”

You grimace. Cannibals were gross. “Ew. That mean Dahmer’s down there?”

“I do believe he has his own little picture show! I wouldn’t know. I find that drivel terribly boring.” Alastor sounds just slightly offended, and it bothers you for a moment. Is— was he a cannibal? The thought makes your stomach wriggle.

You snort, shaking your head at him. “You talk like an old man, demon.” He sounds like he belonged in old movies. Far too much charisma built into his voice, along with a dead accent. “What else is there? You said it was a city?”

“Oh yes! There are other overlords, like myself, who run different parts of the city and of that ring of Hell. Sinners, mortal souls like you and me, reside in the topmost layer of Hell. People have entire lives there; houses, jobs, and all that fun! And then once a year the angels descend to slaughter whatever riffraff they can find on the street! And poof! Gone forever! It’s quite fun to watch.” He sits down in the chair, gesturing with his cane.

You groan, tipping your head back. Why the hell wouldn’t there be capitalism in Hell? You might not get to participate, but the thought of people having to keep working dead end jobs, even after they die, feels cruel. (Although, that’s the point of Hell, right? You hate it).

“There’s fucking capitalism in Hell? God dammit,” you snark, annoyed.

“Exactly, darling! God did damn it, and so it’s in Hell! Ha ha!” His teeth clack together, and his laugh nearly sets you off. Yeah, it was kind of funny. You refused to admit it, though.

You roll your eyes at him, and wave your hand at him, asking, “So you think I’d have a terrible time there? Can I expect to get shivved at the first opportunity?”

“Well, if you made a deal with me, there’d be nothing to worry about, dear! I take care of the things that are mine. The only one you would need to worry about is good old me! Of course, you would only experience my bad-side if you dared to disobey, but you don’t seem the type.” His possessiveness doesn’t surprise you, but something in the way he says it… Your whole body shakes for a second, and then you relax again. How bizarre.

You hum, and then your eyes catch your little round clock. You stiffen up, realize the time. Richard would be home soon, and you needed to be prepared. He’d likely make you make dinner, and you needed him appeased so you could think. “I need you to leave. I should be able to make a deal next time, but I need to figure out how to word it.” Your eyes shift to the door. You start forcing yourself to relax, in that strange way you always do.

“Oh! He’s coming home, isn’t he? Why don’t you make a deal now, and get it over with?” Alastor seems excited, but you readily shoot him down.

“I can’t. I have to do this the right way. I’m giving you my eternal soul, for forever. I need to make sure I don’t regret it. Bye.”

His eyebrows furrow and his smile narrows. You ignore the feeling it gives you. “As you say, my dear. I expect you to call for me soon.” And in a flash of flames, he disappears from your room.

Later that night, your blanket wrapped around you as tightly as you can get it, you think over everything you could ask for. Hell would suck, but if you had protection in a place you knew you were going to go, it might be easier. You could also make sure that you were actually comfortable in your afterlife. It seemed like there were plenty of people there. Not exactly the best place to meet friends, but better than nothing, right? You hug yourself, imagining any other arms than Richard’s, and plan your words.

You stand in the center of your room, dressed in dark jeans, and a comfortable shirt. Your hair is brushed, and your teeth clean. You don’t know why you bothered to change out of pajamas this time, but you did. You sigh at yourself, and call. “Alastor. I’m ready to make a deal.”

“Alastor,” You say, your voice firm. You keep your eyes on him, refusing to show fear. You need to show that you are serious, and understand the consequences of what you are doing. He bends over, as he seems wont to do, and puts his face close to yours. You notice that he doesn’t smell as bad this time. You refuse to back down, even as his teeth separate so he can speak.

“Yes, dear?” He seems excited, his mile almost vibrating with it. His fingers twitch.

“I’m ready to make a deal. I’m allowed to set my own terms, right?” You narrow your eyes at him, daring him to tell you no. “Because they’re going to be specific.”

“Ha ha! Of course, you can, dear! I will, of course, have my own as well!” He pops straight back up, swinging his cane as he goes. “Whatever could your little terms be?” Static burst in his words and prickling at your skin.

“I’ll have your protection in Hell, and you can’t harm me unless it’s earned. I also don’t want to be abandoned, or sequestered from others. If I get the opportunity to make friends at some point, I ask that you let me. I spent my entire life trapped, and I won’t take more of that in Hell. Well, other than you owning my soul. I’ll do as you tell me, but I just ask that you be reasonable.” You let out a breath, proud of yourself for actually getting it all out.

His eyes narrow at you, and you feel something instinctive scream at you. You are toeing a line you can’t see.

“Of course, dear! Not a problem! I, of course, will be having your soul at my beck and call. And! I was hoping to have what’s left of your body when you die! Haven’t had mortal flesh in quite some time. Ha!” He laughs as your jaw drops in shock. (You knew it! Of course, the fucker was a cannibal).

“You can have Richard for sure, but,” you trail off, your eyes finally leaving him. One hand wraps itself around your throat, thinking of his teeth sinking into it. Your chest fills with squirming bugs at the thought, but you push it away. You can only think of how much you have been through, and the abuse your body has taken. Don’t you deserve better, at least in death? “I don’t know about that. I don’t want my body to necessarily be a waste, but it’s taken a lot of abuse. I think it deserves some, I don’t know…”

“Hmm,” he hums, tapping his chin with one claw. “I suppose I could limit it to one bite! I'll take the rest from whatever you leave of Richard. Ha ha! I am just so sure that you will taste much better!” He grins fervently. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes. You can have my soul, and one bite. I get protection when the deed is done, as our terms dictate.” You offer your hand, meeting his gaze. His eyes on you makes you feel like you’ve been doused in flames. It’s intense, and you feel out of place.

His grin widens as his hand reaches towards yours. It erupts into green flames, and you realize the whole room is getting weird. Green, flowing sigils cover the walls, and shadows encroach on the corners. You, however, can’t turn your head from him to look. It’s almost as if your head is in a headlock, neck unable to strain against the hold. You finally clasp your hands with him, realizing the flames feel like wisps of air licking at your hand with no heat. You shake his hand twice, quickly dropping it, trying not to think about how gigantic it is compared to yours.

“You’d think selling your soul would feel like something. Doesn’t even hurt.” You laugh at yourself, rubbing at your chest. That’s where the soul would be, right? You frown as you say, “Guess we ought to plan how I’m gonna do this, huh?”

He cocks his head, thinking about it for only a moment. “A knife should do the trick! Very personal, and I would love to see you covered in the carnage! Ha ha! It would be delightful!”

You agree, although the idea of being covered in blood isn’t the best one. You grit your teeth as you realize you don’t have any knives available. “I don’t have one, other than the kitchen knives, but he’s kept them locked up for a while now. Otherwise, I would have been gone by now.” You laugh at your misfortune. You wouldn’t have made the damned deal if you had been able to off yourself a year ago.

“Worry not! I have just the one!” He holds his hand out, and a dagger appears. It has a deep red handle, with an eye made from a ruby and gold set into the bottom of the handle. The blade itself has a golden hue, symbols etched into the center of the blade. “This should do the trick!”

You take the dagger gingerly, trying to be careful with it, while you take a look. It’s a beautiful blade, and you can't help but admire how shiny it is. You laugh, something giddy in your chest. You grip the handle firmly, and slash at the air.

“I thought it would be heavy, from the look of it. Glad to see it’s just the right weight.” You fiddle with it, nodding. “This will do. Now I just need to—”

You don’t get to finish the thought as a loud thud reverberates through the room. Richard is home. You glance at the clock. He’s home two whole hours early. He normally goes to the bar after work, but he hasn’t today. Something is wrong. Your eyes widen, and you whip your head to the door. Oh, no. You haven’t had time to plan. You set the dagger down on your desk, and look up at the demon in your room. While you know he’s powerful, you need time! You don’t like jumping right into things without a set plan.

“You need to go, he can’t see you!” You glance around your room, and then hit your leg. You feel like an idiot for looking for somewhere to hide him, but what are you supposed to do?

“Oh, my dear! Worry not! You can just finish it now!” His voice is far too loud, and it makes you flinch. You glance at the door again, praying to higher powers that you now know exist, and begging them to keep Richard from walking through your door.

“No! You don’t understand! He’s homie early, which means—”

There’s more thumping from the home beyond your door. You flinch with each, pushing at Alastor lightly. His eyes narrow when you do, so you pull your hands back. “Please,” you whisper, resorting to begging. (he would like begging, right? You want to cry). “Hide. Something! Him coming home early is bad! Please!”

Alastor is still for a moment, his smile nearly flat as his eyes flick over your face. Then, with a subtle nod, he disappears from view. The itching at the base of your skull tells you he is still there, but it doesn’t help. Your only backup is no longer visible, and your mind is shutting down at the thought. You cower to your bed, trying to make yourself feel secure. You want to scream. It’s been a long time since Richard has taken you in your bed, you hope he won’t try tonight.

Richard slams open your door, and you flinch, despite having expected it. You can already feel the fight leaving you. (You hated this part of you. Why did your body and brain feel the need to shut down? It made it so hard to fight back. You want to scream).

“Come here,” Richard demands of you. You try getting off the bed slowly, if only to delay the onslaught for a moment more. The man growls at you, instead. “Faster, you fucking twit!”

Richard grabs at your forearms, pushing your back up against the end of your bed. His grip is biting, and makes your skin crawl. “Did you get a hold of my fucking phone last night? Huh?” He shakes you roughly, your head snapping back and forth a few times. It hurts already. “Answer me!”

“No, Rich- I swear. I didn’t-” You yelp as you try to answer. You don’t even know where he keeps his phone at night. He pulls at your hair. “I swear! I didn’t!”

Richard scoffs, pushing you further onto the bed. “Oh, you little bitch! You think lying is going to help you right now?” He crawls up after you, grabbing onto your ankle to stop your retreat. His grasp on your ankle is nearly crushing the bones, and you want to scream. (You beg in your head, over and over, that no matter what happens next, Alastor is not in the corner to watch you get raped. The thought disgusts you more than you name). “Marie asked after you. Kept mentioning that she was worried about you.”

Richard was leaning over you now, his hands on either side of your head. You hate this position. He always tried to kiss you, and you could smell his disgusting breath. You hate him, with all of your soul.

You push against him, trying to put some space between your chests, but fail and the desire to scream bubbles up again. Your head feels full of cotton; you won’t do this again, you can’t. Richard lowers himself even more, his mouth going to kiss at your hair. His hips grind against yours, and you finally have enough. His throat is exposed for just a moment, and you see red.

You latch your teeth into his jugular, and bite down as hard as you can. You push through the pain in your jaw, and you press your teeth together, through his flesh. Richard starts yelling, the noise garbled. You ignore it, and rip your head back, spitting him out immediately.

Richard is scrabbling, and you take his pain as an opportunity to remove him. His arms are swinging, hitting you as you push him onto the floor. You’re screaming. You can’t tell what you’re saying, but you can feel the way your throat aches.

Once the man is on the floor, still reaching for you, you grab the dagger. You won’t let him survive. You settle on his hips, disgusted for only a moment. Richard is tugging at you, trying to pull you off, but you only scream at him. He can’t get rid of you that easily.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” You slam the dagger into Richard’s chest, your hands briefly struggling to pull it out again. Blood splatters on your face and across your chest. The warmth of it unsettles you, but you need to see it through. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

You can feel tears running down your face, as you hitch and sob. You just want it over. Your hands drive the blade into his chest again. You can hear the cracking and breaking of the bones of his rib cage as you push it in as hard as you can. A flash of bright red beside you lets you know that Alastor has shown himself. Richard’s eyes glance at the demon, and it makes anger swell in you. No, that won’t do.

Your hands are too covered in blood to comfortably continue to use it. With an angry sob, you toss it to the side carelessly. You look at your gore covered hands, sticky and disgusting, and scream. You crawl up Richard’s chest, covering your jeans with blood, to get leverage. Your hands, that feel far too small, wrap around his ruined throat, to get the job done faster.

“I hate you,” you whisper. All you can think of his grimy hands touching you, and making you fear the sunset. You want him to suffer for longer, but you can't help it. “I’ll find you in Hell, you piece of shit.” You push a little harder, and he goes limp, eyes glazed over soon after.

As soon as you know he’s dead, you force yourself off of him, and away from the body. You sob, and your throat aches as you silently beg. What an awful thing to have to do. It didn’t make you feel better, either. You just want it to be over. You tug and pull at your face, wondering if something terrible lies underneath it.

“Oh, dear,” Alastor says. You can feel his hand, still cool to the touch, even through your clothing. It makes you glance up at him. He has this strange, proud smile on his face. It makes you still, sobs stopping. He dangles a handkerchief, a deep red one, in front of your face. “Feel free to clean your face, dearest. While you do that, do you know how you’d like to die?”

The bluntness of the question makes you laugh, and a disembodied laugh track plays. You make a face, feeling the desire to just crackle;e at how strange Alastor is to you. Having you wipe your face when you’re about to die? And the weird radio-show stuff? “Not really. I was going to go violently one way or another. I guess you can choose.”

Alastor pulls his hand from your back, standing straight up. His hand is offered to you, again, and you take it. Your balance is off, as if your body is ready to go already. His grip on your hand remains unyielding, steadying you.

“I suppose it is time for me to take my due, dear! Just one bite, and then I’ll send you on your way.” You close your eyes. The thought of his teeth in you makes you feel peculiar. That’s not the point, though, so you take a breath. Are you ready to die? You aren’t sure. You look at him, and nod like you are, despite it.

“Alright. This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” You laugh to yourself, trying to settle your nerves.

Alastor nods, serious. “That it will, my dear. But worry not! This is not the end, as you know. We are just getting started!” He laughs, and then wraps one hand around the back of your head. You don’t resist as he pulls you to his chest. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you just barely off the ground. Your breath stutters, as you realize this is the closest to a kind touch in a very long time. His touch is gentle, despite his nature. His breath fans across your neck as he moves you. He looks confident, and it makes you feel just slightly better. Your hands grasp at his arm and his chest. His suit is rather silky, and you focus on the texture beneath your fingers. His clothing is nice. You wonder if he’ll give you anything that nice in Hell.

“Are you ready, dear? If you relax, it will hurt less.” His voice has gotten softer, the normal static that accompanies it gone.

You believe his words, despite the fact that lying seems to be his standard. You do your best to relax your muscles, and go lax in his arms. Even your hands loosen, just barely rubbing at his suit jacket.

You feel a strange desire to make him understand what it means to you. You aren’t alone in your final moments, and finally someone knows about Richard. Finally, you close your eyes and you smile, just barely. “Thank you, Alastor. See you on the other side.”

You can feel his breath on your neck. You tell yourself, over and over, not to open your eyes, and just as you go to peek anyway, his teeth scrape your skin. Your whole body lights up, for a brief moment, and then his teeth are in you. You yelp, and then something weird happens. The pain slowly leaves, and you can just feel him. He’s suddenly very warm, and it makes your skin flush. His teeth are dug into the junction of your neck and shoulder, and you can feel them scrape along bone. It’s an unexplainable sensation without the pain. Your pondering stops as you realize how weird and slow everything feels.

You are dying. You can feel it now. Alastor’s thumb, on your head, is just barely rubbing at the skin behind your ear. The sensation lulls your body to a strange fatigue. The only thing left is the warmth of Alastor’s body against yours.

Your diaphragm stutters, and your mind fades.

You’d meet him again in Hell.

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#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angst #dark

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bunniesanddeer · 1 month

Text

Going Straight to Hell

Posting these works from my AO3 here, for you all to enjoy, if that is your thing. I have not set up my 18+ taglist yet, so it is not on this post. If you want to be tagged in 18+ works, reply to my pinned post with a '+' after your reply, so I know. I will make an updated version of those to lists later :).

This is Alastor's POV! "Bound To Hell" is the other work, which is from the Reader's perspective, and will be posted shortly.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Extremely dark, slightly manipulative Alastor, discussions of rape and child abuse, Demon deals, revenge, murder, and cannibalism. This is 18+!!! MINORS DNI. Seriously. Please.

Word Count: 7,887

They are curled up against the wall, tucked in the corner of their bed, when he finds them. They are mumbling and shivering. Their eyes are scrunched up tightly, and their hands are wrapped around their upper arms, knuckles white with the intense grip. He knows right away that, whatever has happened, has allowed him this possibility for victory. He, however, wants to know what called him to this place. It’s then that his ears finally catch what they are mumbling.

“Please,” their little voice cries. “Anyone. I need this to end. I need help.” A sob rips from their throat, and they ball their body up tighter. He watches as their blunt little nails scratch and pull at the skin on their arms. “Please just help me end it. I’ll do anything.”

He watches with interest as they suddenly stop, their body going rigid. They whip their head up, peering around the room, and he realizes; the little creature can sense him.

“Who’s there?” Their voice is softer than it was when they were begging, but the anguish isn’t tainting it any longer.

‘Interesting,’ he thinks to himself. He looks around the room. He can’t physically manifest without them calling for him specifically, but he can communicate with them. The room is rather small, with only a few select pieces of furniture. There is a dresser, their bed, and a little desk. On the desk, he recognizes a radio, although it looks a little different from the ones in his day. He snaps his fingers and the radio flickers to life, static booming from the little speakers.

The little thing on the bed jumps, clearly startled by the sudden burst of sound, but they don’t move.

“Hello?” They call. Their eyes flicker around the room more intensely, trying to catch sight of something, but he knows they won’t find anything.

He decides that it’s time to announce himself properly.

“HEL-”

They scream as he tries to greet them. “What the FUCK!”

They flatten themselves against the wall, breath coming to them rapidly. He should’ve seen that coming, but their interruption doesn’t annoy him any less regardless.

“Hello! Can I speak now?” He gives them a moment to take in where his voice is coming from. They hit the mark, their eyes narrowing as they stare at their little radio.

“Are you talking to me,” They ask, quietly. Their little hands scratch their knees, eyes wide and anxious. He’s sure with the low light of the room that they can’t see much, but they stare like they can.

“Ha! Of course, I’m talking to you!” He laughs at the expression on their face as they deflate. It looked like someone had cut their strings with the way they slackened. “I couldn't help but hear you calling for help, dear!”

They look skeptical for a moment, but they say nothing, just politely putting their hands into their lap.

“You seem to be having quite the problem, and I’d like to offer my services!” His voice warbles through the speakers, his volume nearly pushing them to their limits. The little human looks concerned, glancing over at their door as if they just realized how loud he was being. He didn’t want anything to ruin his chances, so he opted to lower his voice. “However, I can’t help you unless you call my name with the intention of making a deal. It’s the rules, unfortunately.”

A wry smile flits across their face. “Like Beetlejuice?”

“I have no idea what that is, my dear.” Modern humans and their strange references to things he has never heard of. Who would want juice made from bugs?

“Ah,” They mutter. They are quiet for a moment, the static from the radio being the only sound in the room.

“I don’t know what your name is,” They say some time later. They’re frowning, and he realizes that they will need more convincing.

“I’ll tell you in just a moment! Fret not!” He thinks through all the best approaches he could take. Intimidation wouldn’t work. They were still alive, and on top of that, from the tear tracks still etched into their face, it might push them too far. They didn’t look like they wanted anything extravagant, and he still had yet to find out what they were calling help for. He’d have to offer help vaguely, while trying to coax it out of them. “I just wanted to tell you that I could help you with whatever your problem might be, if only you called me. Nothing is too big or small.”

They turn their head away from the radio, glaring at the door that has remained steadfastly closed. Their little fists tightened, and something dark flashed across their face. He wanted to understand it, grasp at it and pull it back onto their face.

“What’s your name,” they ask. Their voice is a little louder now, filled with courage. That courage filling up their breast, and bolstering their words will be their downfall, he is sure.

“The name’s Alastor, darling! Who might I be speaking to?”

They frown. “Shouldn’t you know my name?” They cock their head and twist their hands together.

‘Aw, the little thing is all confused. Must think I’m something else. Time to correct that assumption.’ The static turns up a notch as his power settles over the room. “No, dear. I am a demon, straight from Hell, here to provide you my services!”

Dread drips down their face, slowly, and then all at once. Ha! He must be turning their little world upside down! He takes more time to observe their reaction, quite enjoying the way their little frame shakes and shivers. They look incredibly distraught, and although he has a guess as to why, he wants to hear it straight from them.

“Why the long face, dear?” He laughs, static popping and crackling as he does. He watches with satisfaction as tears drip down their face.

“I guess I should have known that if there was some higher power, they wouldn’t help me. Guess it would end up being some demon.” A bitter laugh rips from their throat, and they curl in on themself again.

Anger briefly ripples through Alastor as he stares at their weak little body. “I’m not just some demon, darling. I’m the Radio Demon! Powerful overlord of Pentagram City!” He tries to hold back some of his anger, but it leaks into his voice anyway. They pop their head up, and glare weakly.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” They shift, lying down on their side, clearly done with the conversation. “I’ll think about it. If you’re actually real, and not just some strange thing my mind made up to keep me here.”

“Well then! I will speak to you again, dear! Remember, just call my name with intention, and I’ll appear!” His voice filters through the speakers one last time, before he flicks his wrist, and it turns off. He watches the little human go still in their bed, eyes still wide open and staring at the empty space of their room. They are a strange thing, but he is sure that he will get them to make a deal. It is only a matter of time.

He’s sitting at Husker’s bar, trying to annoy him with jokes, when static tingles the back of his mind. It starts slow, so he tries to ignore it. “My dear man, what do you call a funny mountain?”

Husker glared, his tail swishing rapidly behind him. His ears were pinned back, and he was barely refraining from baring his teeth at Alastor. “How many times do I gotta tell you? Fuck off, and take yer stupid jokes with you.”

“Ha! No!” Alastor lets his grin widen as he leans in to tell the rest of the joke. However, the static turns into a harsh tug, and he is silenced. His eyebrows furrow, despite his smile staying put. What in Hell could have done that?

Husker chuckles to himself, popping the cap off a bottle. “Why so quiet? Cat got yer’-” Alastor doesn’t hear the rest of what he says as his form dissolves. He’s getting called! He should have remembered. The pesky little human was going to be fun, if it was them who called.

When his body puts itself back together again, he grins wickedly. The little creature he’d spoken to recently had indeed called on him. Their room is brighter this time, a little lamp on their desk turned on. They are also not on the bed this time, but on the floor, back to their closed door. Their eyes grow impossibly wide when they see him appear. Their hands grab onto the carpet, trying to keep themself from collapsing.

Alastor takes in the sight of them with a nasty grin. He feels empowered by the fear warping their features. He calls his microphone and spins it idly as he stares at them. The demon cocks his head, their little eyes tracking the movement, as if afraid he’ll disappear.

“You’re real,” they whisper, little voice cracking. With an act of courage that nearly impresses him, they crawl forward a bit before standing on thin, shaky legs.

“That I am, my dear!” He leans his body towards them, trying to see just how far their courage will go. He can see their chest stutter as they try to hold their ground. Alastor gets his face inches from theirs before they finally wince, backing up.

“Uh, sir, you smell real bad,” they say, face scrunched up. They have their hands up in a faux surrender, as if that would annoy him less.

“What?” He asks, static heavy in his voice. That was absolutely not what he had been expecting. Is that why they had backed up? There was no way! He had two feet on them, and on top of that a clearly demonic aura. It was absolutely not his smell.

“Yeah, sorry. You smell like an overripe corpse. It’s downright fowl.” They perch themself on their bed, pulling at a loose thread from a blue blanket. When they finally look back at him, they apologize. “Right, uh, sorry. Meant to introduce myself, but that really threw me off track. Hi.” They tell him their name, hand lightly waving.

He repeats their name back to them with a flourish of his mic. “Well, hello to you too! I was quite hoping you’d call on me, and now here we are!” His grin widens, his malicious intent leaking into it. “Are you ready to make a deal?”

They shake their head, mind clearly made up. “No, I wanted to-”

His anger at being bothered for nothing causes him to overreact, something that hadn't happened in Hell for quite some time. Shadows lick at the edges of the room, and the lamps’ light seems to fail to diffuse into the room. His own shadow extends, it’s head crawling across the ceiling and looming over the little human. Alastor’s form warps and twists, bones cracking as he grows even larger, antlers extending several feet. He looms over the little human, and he watches as they promptly burst into tears. As his maw opens, he realizes that he might have just ruined his chances for their soul. His form immediately dissipates as he takes control of himself again.

“Oh dear, I hadn’t meant to frighten you! Merely lost some of my self-control, there, dearest!” He forces some extra joviality into his tone, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He finally takes stock of them, and realizes he might have indeed pushed it too far. They are all the way on the bed, back against the wall, fat tears falling down their cheeks. They have a blanket in their hands, covering up their legs, as if it would protect them from him.

He places his hands behind his back, trying to think of a way to get everything back to where it was before. Alastor cocks his head, his ears tilting just slightly in their direction as he opens his mouth-

“I’m sorry,” they mumble. They are looking at his shoes, too scared to look in his eyes. “I just wanted to know how a deal would work, so I could make one with all the information I needed.”

Alastor internally winces, feeling a little jingle-brained. He should have realized. Humans like to know the details sometimes, and he should be glad! It meant that they were smarter than average. He’d get use out of their pathetic little soul. He spots the chair pushed into their little desk, and decides to take a seat, if only to calm the tension in the room. With a wave of his hand, the chair pulls back, and he takes a seat.

“Sorry, darling! Hadn’t meant to give you the heebie-jeebies. I got a little ahead of myself!” He props his head up with one hand under his chin, his other hand twirling his microphone stand. “Do you have questions? You can ask away!”

They seem to calm down a modicum, letting the blanket go. “What… what do I have to give you, in a deal?” The look on their face tells him they already know, but they still ask. Alastor loves it! This brave little thing, providing him with such a need to laugh!

He leans forwards, his eyes hooded as his grin grows hungry. “Your soul. And because you’re still living, your life as well, depending on what you want. Your soul would be mine for eternity, and you would serve me in Hell.”

They don’t seem shocked, only resignation shaping their expression. Such a strange thing to see. He wanted to pry open their skull and know all the reasons why. His claws itched at the thought of taking their life. He’d drench himself in their blood, gorge himself on-

“I was going to kill myself anyway, so you can have it.” Their voice is flat, and their eyes are glassy. The thought is entertaining, but the look on their face isn’t. He much prefers expression! He wants drama, and passion!

“Oh, were you?” He goads, his hands flexing as he watches their eyes shift to him. They hold his gaze steady.

“Yes. No matter what happens, I’ll end up dead. If I do it this way, it’s on my own terms.” Then it happens again, something dark floods their face. Alastor feels something like glee fill up his chest. Whoever they’re thinking about is sure to suffer if the little human is given the chance. Oh, this he must see.

“Well, do tell! You can’t just leave me with that! Tell me what’s in that noodle of yours!” He swings his microphone stand to point at them. “Come on!”

They sigh, the dark look leaving. “Fine. I need you to tell me what you can do, first. What are the limits to this deal?”

He hums, trying to seem like he’s really thinking about it. There’s plenty he can do, even more in Hell than on Earth, but there’s still plenty. “I can do near anything, dear! Anything your little heart desires can be yours!”

They nod, and then they huff. “Fine. I’ll tell you what my problem is, and then I’m gonna tell you exactly what I hope to get out of this.” They sit up straighter, glaring at him as they do, and cross their arms. “It ain’t pretty, though, so don’t go blaming me if you get bored or grossed out by details.” They sneer at him, clearly trying to delay telling him.

“Oh darling, I promise I have seen and heard much worse. Worry not, your little head!” His grin widens, his teeth clenching together in anticipation. Their little sob story will provide him with just the right ammunition to pull them into a deal that definitely benefits him more.

Their eyes close, and he watches with delight as their eyes fill with despair.

“There is a man in my house that I have had the displeasure of living with for several years. I was thirteen when my mom met him.” Their eyes glaze over, and they’re scratching at their arms again. “He was nice at first, and he was good for my mom. She had been distraught when my dad died. I was the adult in the house for a little while, and then she met Ric- Richard. He had been really nice at first. He helped around the house. He got my mom into therapy. Encouraged me in my classes. He made it clear he wasn’t trying to replace my dad, but he was good for a while. My mom loved him. They got married. He adopted me some time after that. Things were good.”

Their eyes open, and flick to him, and he sees it. There are flames dancing in their eyes. Hell is raging in them, and they desperately want it out. Alastor’s chest tingles, and his hands itch. His excitement fills his whole body up as he watches their every little move. He’s waiting for the rest of their sordid tale with verve.

“I spent a couple of days trying to decide if I should tell my mom. I didn’t get the chance. She got into a car accident leaving work. Died before we could even get to the hospital.”

A bitter laugh wracks their body as they watch him. “Wanna guess who I got stuck with, because this motherfucker adopted me?”

Alastor’s elation had been slowly dying down as he realized what would in fact occur in their story. His smile had stayed, but the fervor in which it had grown ebbed away. He had always hated the disgusting, revolting act of rape. He had taken great pleasure in ripping apart the bodies of rapists back in the good old days. Part of Alastor wondered if he’d get to enjoy taking part in the act again. Still, he listened on to their story, trying to hide his shifting thoughts.

“Yeah. You can imagine that I’d get to properly mourn my mother, but I never got the chance. He’d crept into my bed that night, using his tears against me.” They gesture at themself. “I’m small, you know? I’ve been about this height since I was thirteen. Five feet and two inches. I’ve got nothing on him, especially because at the time my weight was dwindling because of stress. You can imagine how damn easy it would be to toss me around like a rag doll.”

Alastor could very easily imagine it. They were quite small, even for human adults. He could wrap one of his hands clear around their little neck, maybe even their little waist. It’d be easy to throw them, so an adult man wouldn’t have too much trouble either. Alastor stopped his thoughts. He didn’t want to think further on it.

“He’s raped me, many, many times. I haven’t experienced a kind touch that wasn’t to trick me since my mom was alive. The motherFUCKER-” They sit up on their knees, hand falling forward to clutch the edge of their bed. They have a deranged look in their eyes, and it draws Alastor’s attention. They pant, a growl rumbling in their throat. “Has stopped me from going to school many times, so I couldn’t show up hurt. Then that fucking VIRUS happened, and no one could see what was happening to me. I was trapped. Now that things are fine again, I should be able to leave and get a job, but he’s trapping me here. I’m stuck!”

They let out a guttural yell, rolling off the bed and onto their feet. Their hands wave about them as they keep yelling. “He’s DESTROYED me. He’s taken and taken and taken from me! I’m fucking done.” They stop the pacing they had been doing for a moment, and look Alastor straight in the eyes. “I want to keep him from ever doing anything to anyone else. The justice system won’t fucking work. It never does! I want to rip his fucking heart from his chest while he watches. I want to make him beg, and scream like he’s done to me. I want to tear him to pieces over and over and-”

They collapse, tears drenching their face as they sob. He watches them pull at their hair, tugging at the soft locks harshly. Alastor, senses the opportunity, and with his head swirling with too many thoughts, gets down from the chair. He crouches beside them, taking one of their wrists in his hand softly. “Oh, do stop that, dear. You mustn’t do that. You want to look your best when we send you off to slaughter the man, don’t you?”

His voice sounds nearly soft, and it makes him want to gag. It wasn’t a lie that he thought they should stop ripping at their hair. He was going to make them look their best when they took revenge, and he couldn’t do that if they were missing a chunk of hair. He also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed their anger and the description of how they wanted to brutalize that slimy excuse of a human being. The thought of this tiny human, drenched in the blood of another, a satisfied grin on their face makes his chest squirm. What a delightful idea. He can imagine the look in their eyes now-

“Do you think I’d go to Heaven if I didn’t do it?” They ask, their sad, pathetic eyes watching him. His smile shifts. He can only push them not to consider abandoning their wish to kill the man. He doesn’t want them to abandon it, lest he lose his chance for a deal. He can’t force their hand, however. Working with someone still mortal makes it plenty difficult. He hated having his options limited.

“I am unsure, dear. Who knows why one gets to Heaven? There are plenty of sinners in Hell for the littlest of things. I want you to know, though, you sure won’t get to Heaven if you kill yourself!” He laughs, and it makes them glare at him, albeit weakly. He stands up, looking down at the woeful little heap on the floor. “You said you wanted him dead, darling! Now is your chance! Imagine all the other little boys and girls he’ll hurt if you let him live.”

Their eyes widen, and their little mouth open into a sad pout. It was a low-blow for sure, but it seemed to be just enough to push them forwards. He watches with deep pleasure as their expression hardens and they nod. He offers his hand to help them up, and they excerpt if, if only a little hesitant.

He tries to ignore how warm their little hand is, and how easily his sharp claws could tear through the thin barrier between him and their blood. “Now, are you ready to make a deal?”

They sigh, their shoulders dropping as they avoid his eyes. “Not today. I need some time to think about everything. Can you tell me what Hell is like? So I can get an idea of what I’m headed towards.”

Part of him was annoyed, but the rest was happy to see them looking for more information. A smart little soul that knows how to make a deal. He could already see them acclimating to Hell. Once they got their revenge, he could push them to seek more violence in Hell. Alastor was excited at the prospect of awakening their desire for violence, and seeing them covered in gore.

“Now that is a fun topic! Hell is full of vicious sinners; the worst of the worst! And just about everyone else too! Ha ha!” He laughs, thinking of how many pathetic little souls fall to Hell without a single idea of what they had done wrong. “There’s plenty of suffering! People out on the streets stabbing each other! Swindling each other out of everything they have! There’s even cannibals!”

They make a grossed out face, their nose scrunching softly. “Ew. That mean Dahmer’s down there?”

Alastor feels a tiny bit offended at their disgust with cannibals but responds to their little question anyway. “I do believe he has his own little picture show! I wouldn’t know. I find that drivel terribly boring.”

They snort, shaking their head at him. “You talk like an old man, demon.” They finally sit themself back on their bed, curling their legs beneath them, and covering themself in a blanket. “What else is there? You said it was a city?”

They groan, tipping their head back, and all his eyes can focus on is the expanse of their thin neck as they move. Part of him deeply wants to sink his teeth into it, see how much of it they can take before their pretty, little voice cuts out forever, the rest of him just wants a tiny piece of them, and yet all of him does nothing. One of his claws scratches idly at the bottom of his microphone. He needs to keep his focus.

“There’s fucking capitalism in Hell? God dammit.” The grumpy look on their face makes him laugh again.

“Exactly, darling! God did damn it, and so it’s in Hell! Ha ha!” His teeth clack together, and his jaw aches. He needs to rip into something when he gets back.

They roll their eyes, clearly getting comfortable. They wave their hand at him, asking, “So you think I’d have a terrible time there? Can I expect to get shivved at the first opportunity?”

“Well, if you made a deal with me, there’d be nothing to worry about, dear! I take care of the things that are mine. The only one you would need to worry about is good old me! Of course, you would only experience my bad-side if you dared to disobey, but you don’t seem the type.” His grin stretches across his face, wider than it had been the whole visit. The idea of punishing them makes him anxious, jittery. He couldn’t explain why it felt different, but it still left some excitement running through him, so he ignored it.

They hum, and then their eyes catch the little round clock on the wall. Their entire body goes rigid, before they sit up straight. “I need you to leave. I should be able to make a deal next time, but I need to figure out how to word it.” Their eyes shift to the door. The little brows on their face scrunch together, and he watches as their entire being seems to shift. They look nearly limp, like a doll, and he realizes what must be the reason.

“Oh! He’s coming home, isn’t he? Why don’t you make a deal now, and get it over with?” He craves their mouth forming the word ‘yes’, but they let him down.

“I can’t. I have to do this the right way. I’m giving you my eternal soul, for forever. I need to make sure I don’t regret it.” Their eyes are slowly losing their fire, and he watches them wave at him. “Bye.”

His eyebrows furrow and his smile narrows. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. “As you say, my dear. I expect you to call for me soon.” And in a flash of flames, he disappears from their room.

“Alastor!” The little princess exclaims when he appears in the lobby. “Where have you been? You’ve been gone all day!”

“Ah! I had some short-notice business with an associate of mine, unfortunately. I do apologize! I hope I haven’t caused a tizzy!” He laughs, and shifts his tone to sound sincere. The princess didn’t need to know that he was damning some poor lost soul. Oh, how angry she would be! Perhaps he’d get to see her little horns again! Always so much fun to see.

“Oh, that’s good! It really surprised us when you just ‘poofed’!” She mimics an explosion with her hands as she talks. “If you can let us know ahead of time, that would be great!”

Alastor nods amiably. “Of course, dear! Worry not, I’ll let you know! Speaking of which,” He twirls a bit, sending a wide grin at Husker, who is glaring at him from the bar. “I will have a meeting later this week. That will be last minute notice, so if I’m gone for a few hours later this week, that would be why. Worry not! I should be bringing a sweet, lost soul for you to help!”

Alastor turns his head so he can watch the excitement fill her large eyes. She predictably squeals, hopping on her toes a few times. “Really! Oh, yay! I can’t wait to meet them! Can you tell me anything about them? Oh! We should find out what their favorite food is! We can make it the day they come! Do you think-”

Alastor tunes Charlie out, humming to himself as he thinks on how he’ll need to prepare for their arrival. Although he is loath to admit it, a tiny part of him is just as excited to bring them to the hotel as Charlie is.

There it was again. That little tug that the call creates. Alastor was walking down the hallway, thinking of Charlie's plan to bring her father to the hotel, when it started. He could feel his excitement flare up again. It was time! Oh, what joy he would surely have today.

His body faded, and then he was there, standing in their tiny little room again. This time he focused on just how pathetically small they seemed. His ears scraped along the ceiling as he stalked towards them. Despite his looming, the little creature had a confident demeanor. Their arms were crossed, and they were dressed in actual clothing, this time! Not to his taste exactly, but better than the rags they had the last visit.

“Alastor,” They said, their voice firm. They kept their eyes directly on him, not shying or cowing away. At the call of his name, he bent down, putting his face as close as he could comfortably get.

“Yes, dear?” He felt such jubilation when they didn’t even flinch! What a creature! What a doll! He’d have so much fun with them, he was sure.

“I’m ready to make a deal. I’m allowed to set my own terms, right?” They narrowed their eyes, and propped their hands on their hips. “Because they’re going to be specific.”

“Ha ha! Of course, you can, dear! I will, of course, have my own as well!” He popped straight back up, swinging his microphone stand as he went. “Whatever could your little terms be?” He let static burst in his words, smirking down at the little human. He would surely get more out of this than them. Not much was worth more than a soul!

“I’ll have your protection in Hell, and you can’t harm me unless it’s earned. I also don’t want to be abandoned, or sequestered from others. If I get the opportunity to make friends at some point, I ask that you let me. I spent my entire life trapped, and I won’t take more of that in Hell. Well, other than you owning my soul. I’ll do as you tell me, but I just ask that you be reasonable.” They let out a breath, having rushed through their little speech.

Alastor feels a sliver of irritation. Such strange requests, and specific! Unluckily for them, there were always loopholes. They didn’t dictate what earning harm was, and reasonable? He could be reasonable, but it surely couldn't be on their little mortal level! Ha! What pathetic attempts to limit his power over them!

“Of course, dear! Not a problem! I, of course, will be having your soul at my beck and call. And! I was hoping to have what’s left of your body when you die! Haven’t had mortal flesh in quite some time. Ha!” He laughs a few times, enjoying the shock that floods their features. They look both disgusted and uncomfortable. Good. No one was allowed to just be comfortable with him!

“You can have Richard for sure, but,” they trail off, their eyes finally leaving him. One hand wraps itself around their throat, dragging his eyes to it. His teeth could surely cleave that little head of their right from their shoulders! He could feel the softness of their skin breaking beneath his teeth alre— he was getting carried away. “I don’t know about that. I don’t want my body to necessarily be a waste, but it’s taken a lot of abuse. I think it deserves some, I don’t know…”

“Yes. You can have my soul, and one bite. I get protection when the deed is done, as our terms dictate.” They offer their hand, eyes finally meeting his again.

His grin widens. Finally! Green flames spread from his hand as it reaches towards theirs. His symbols flare on the walls as their hands finally clasp. The little human grips strongly, shaking his hand twice, before letting go. They let out a small laugh, rubbing their chest over their heart for a brief moment.

“You’d think selling your soul would feel like something. Doesn’t even hurt.” They frown and laugh again. “Guess we ought to plan how I’m gonna do this, huh?”

He cocks his head, thinking about it for only a moment. “A knife should do the trick! Very personal, and I would love to see you covered in the carnage! Ha ha! It would be delightful!”

The little mortal nods twice, looking around their room. “I don’t have one, other than the kitchen knives, but he’s kept them locked up for a while now. Otherwise, I would have been gone by now.” They laugh at their own expense, grimacing.

“Worry not! I have just the one!” He held his hand out, and a dagger was conjured. It had a deep red handle, with an eye made from a ruby and gold set into the butt of the handle. The blade itself had a golden hue, symbols etched into the spine. “This should do the trick!”

The human takes the dagger softly, taking a moment to appreciate the finery they hold. They take a deep breath, and then clamp their hand around the handle solidly. Taking a step back, they slash at the air with a laugh.

“I thought it would be heavy, from the look of it. Glad to see it’s just the right weight.” They fiddle with it, nodding. “This will do. Now I just need to—”

They don’t get to finish their thought as a loud thud reverberates through the room. Their eyes widen, almost comically, and they whip their head to their door. They set the dagger on their desk, and glance at Alastor.

“You need to go, he can’t see you!” They take stock of their room, as if they mean to hide him.

“Oh, my dear! Worry not! You can just finish it now!” He can feel the way their whole body flinches at the volume of his voice. They keep glancing at the door.

“No! You don’t understand! He’s homie early, which means—”

There’s more thumping from the home beyond their door. They flinch with each one, pushing at Alastor lightly. “Please,” they whisper. “Hide. Something! Him coming home early is bad! Please!”

There are tears building in their eyes, and their voice cracks. Alastor isn’t sure what causes him to acquiesce, but he does, vanishing his physical form. He expects them to calm, but they only further stiffen up. He doesn't enjoy seeing them fear something that isn’t him. A little anger rises to the surface as he watches them cower their way to their bed. Alastor frowns as he realizes they’ve left the damned dagger on their desk. This Richard must be quite fearsome if he elicits more fear in the little human than The Radio Demon does.

Alastor gets his wish to see the monster in human skin when their bedroom door slams open. The man is taller than the little creature, but much shorter than Alastor himself. His dark hair is slightly receding, and shaved short. His eyes have bags beneath them, as if sleeping was foreign to him. Alastor wonders if the guilt of his sins is weighing on him, but figures not; pathetic slugs don’t feel guilt.

“Come here,” The man says, his voice gruff. Alastor watches on as they crawl off the bed, purposefully going as slow as they can. “Faster, you fucking twit!”

Richard grabs at their forearms, pushing their back up against the end of their bed. “Did you get a hold of my fucking phone last night? Huh?” He shakes them, as if trying to will the words from their mouth. “Answer me!”

“No, Rich- I swear. I didn’t-” The little human yelps as Richard pulls their hair. “I swear! I didn’t!”

Richard scoffs, pushing them further onto the bed. “Oh, you little bitch! You think lying is going to help you right now?” He crawls up after them, grabbing onto their ankle to stop their retreat. His grip looks crushing. Alastor watches as tears roll down his little human’s face. He wonders if they can even remember he’s there. “Marie asked after you. Kept mentioning that she was worried about you.”

The man was leering above them now, his hands on either side of their little head. Alastor felt revulsion swarming up his throat, as if he was going to throw up. His hands tingle and his head fills with static. He wants to kill the man, but he can’t. This act always disgusted him, and it only gets worse by actually seeing the deed occur.

Alastor watches as his little human pushes back against the man, trying to put s[ace between them. They fail, but a fake of pride exists in Alastor for their efforts. Richard finally puts himself too close. His hips grind against theirs, and anger swells on their face. Richard leaves his throat exposed for just a moment and—

Alastor explodes with joy. Their teeth latch around his neck, clamp, and they pull! He watches blood spray from the injury as they push the man off of them. They are screaming incomprehensible words as they force Richard to the floor.

Alastor watches, his whole body warm, as they grab the dagger, dodging Richard’s flailing on the floor. Their face is covered in blood, and he can see the red staining their bared teeth.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” They slam the dagger into Richard’s chest, their hands briefly struggling to pull it out again. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

Fat tears roll down their face, and a bubble of snot pops from their nose. Blood splatters across their chest, arms, and all over the side of their bed. Alastor lets himself show up again, and revels in the little bit of fear bubbling up in Richard’s eyes. He can see the demon, good.

The little human, their hands covered in blood, can’t keep a grip on the blade. They sob angrily, and toss it to the side. Alastor has to step just to his right to avoid it hitting him. He watches with satisfaction as the little human grabs Richard’s throat in their tiny hands.

“I hate you,” They mutter, sitting up so they can press their weight onto his throat. “I’ll find you in Hell, you piece of shit.” Alastor watches them tighten their hands once more, and the man goes limp.

As soon as Richard is dead, the little human scuttles away from his body, collapsing onto the floor, sobs shaking their entire being. Alastor stares down at the remains of Richard, his grin nearly breaking his face. He feels warm, and light, almost as if he himself had done the deed. Seeing his little human covered in blood and viscera has his soul singing. What a wonderful thing to get to witness! He can’t wait to see what else he can get them to do.

Alastor turns to look at his prize, eyebrows furrowing at the way they are still sobbing. He crouches, offering a handkerchief from his pocket. They don’t notice, hand still clutching at their face. He watches their nails catch and tug at the skin there, only spreading more blood on their face.

“Oh, dear,” he says. He gently places his hand on their back, trying to get them to look up. It works, and satisfaction curls up in him. Their face is absolutely covered in blood, and there is more leaking from their mouth. A strange desire to taste it leaves him reeling for a moment. He shakes it off, and dangles the handkerchief in front of their face. “Feel free to clean your face, dearest. While you do that, do you know how you’d like to die?”

The bluntness of the question makes them laugh, and canned laughter plays. They make a strange face and shake their head. “Not really. I was going to go violently one way or another. I guess you can choose.”

Alastor pulls his hand from them, standing straight up. He offers to help them stand, and they accept it, shaky on their legs. They sway, just slightly, and he lets them use their grip on his hand to stay standing.

“I suppose it is time for me to take my due, dear! Just one bite, and then I’ll send you on your way.” They close their eyes, letting out a stuttering breath. When they open their eyes again, they nod, steadfast.

“Alright. This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” They laugh to themself.

Alastor nods, serious. “That it will, my dear. But worry not! This is not the end, as you know. We are just getting started!” He laughs, and then wraps one hand around the back of their head. Their eyes widen, but they don’t resist as he pulls them to his chest. His other arm wraps around their waist, pulling them just barely off the ground. Their body is warm against his, and he can hear their heart beating rapidly. He takes a breath in through his nose, their sweet scent mixed with the blood of Richard. Alastor enjoys it, but he can’t quite place why.

“Are you ready, dear? If you relax, it will hurt less.” He doesn’t know why he tells them this, but they listen. He feels them go limp in his hold, breath slowing.

“Thank you, Alastor. See you on the other side.” They close their eyes, and Alastor hums to himself.

Show time!

He lets his maw open wide, and chooses the junction of their neck and shoulder as the best spot. His teeth latch for just a moment, before sinking deep into their flesh. He can feel them tense as they yelp, before going limp again. As he bites harder, his magic seeps into their skin, and their breath slows. When he finally hears their little heart start to stutter, he swallows the blood that has filled his mouth. When their heart stops, he clenches his teeth together, and rips the flesh in his mouth from their body.

Alastor lets his eyes flutter closed as he tastes them. They were much sweeter than he often preferred, but something heady followed it, and he found the whole thing quite wonderful. When he finally deigned to swallow, his eyes opened again, and he looked down at the corpse in his arms. Their body was slowly losing warmth, and blood was pouring from the gouge in their neck. He glanced around the room for a moment, and then decided to tuck them into their bed.

Alastor knew it was a waste, but he would heed this strange little wish of theirs. He tucked them into their bed, as if they had simply gone to sleep and not woken up. When it was done, he glared down at Richard. He would need to pack the body up to take with him. He would enjoy making use out of it. Perhaps he could find the sinner and make him watch the demon desecrate his dead body? That was a nice thought.

Alastor snapped his fingers, vanishing the corpse. He took one last look around the room, finding the dagger, and deciding he was done. With a nasty smile, Alastor fizzled out from the mortal realm.

Alastor arrives back in Hell at the base of his radio tower. He takes a brief glance around to orient himself, and then starts calling on their soul. He can feel the little chain tug, and he turns in the direction it leads him. It only takes him a few minutes to find the spot where they landed. Indeed, they are right where the chain placed them. He takes a moment to look at the heap crumpled in an alleyway. From the face, he is sure it is them. After a moment of deliberation, he kneels, and lifts them up in his arms. They are still ridiculously small, and it will be even more noticeable around other demons.

Alastor feels something twist at the realization of the form they have taken. They’re a lamb; fluffy tail and ears hang limply, and their hair replaced by a mop of white wool. Their skin is soft, and a dark gray. Around their soft, black nose and their mouth is a white patch of skin. A sheep for sure.

“Oh, dearest, you really were a lamb for the slaughter.” Alastor looks up, watching the sky slowly darken. Time to take them home. With his hands full, the both of them mold into the shadows, and they disappear. Only time would tell him how the deal would turn out for the two of them.

My asks are open! It might take a bit to respond to requests, but if you just want to say hi, feel free!!

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #dark #angst #revenge

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bunniesanddeer · 1 month

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An Alastor redesign…. Sorta? Mostly the same, just darkened his skin and changed up his mic. It is a wip that I might not return to.

click for higher quality

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor redesign

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bunniesanddeer · 1 month

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Love your stories❤️❤️ can I request a female reader who touches Alastors ears and tail for the first time please? Thank you

Oh, jeez. Sorry, this took so long, life happened, as it always does, when I finally got the swing of things. This is also super short, if you would like to see more, or if this wasn't at all like you expected, I apologize. You can reach back out!

Fuzzy

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader (not really explicitly stated).

Warnings/tags: Soft Alastor, Literally, petting, Alastor's ears, fluff

Word count: 466

Typically, Alastor hated it when people touched him. He hated the way it sent itching up his arms and straight up his spine. He hated how vulnerable it made him, no matter how much he would deny it outwardly. People touching him wasn’t his favorite thing, but you weren’t people.

So here he was, acquiescing to the strange request you had made only moments before, bending over so you could reach the top of his head. You were shorter than himself by more than a head, so it was necessary, and he refused to sit down.

Your eyes were full of delight as you slowly reached towards the ears flicking about on his head. A small hand finally got close enough to the base of his right ear, and he watched your face with an unmoving smile. Then your fingers finally touched the ear, and your soft fingers rubbed with the grain of his fur.

“Oh!” You let out a noise of pure glee as you rubbed the ear. Your other hand captured the left ear, and began to softly pet it. “They’re so soft!”

Alastor could only let out a huff. His eyes slid closed so he could focus on the tender stroking. It wasn’t all terrible, he supposed. Your hands were soft, and you were cognitive of the direction of his fur, and how to treat it right.

The more small noises you made, and the longer you rubbed at his ears, the more he wished he had sat down. Now he would have to admit that he liked it, in order to have you continue. It was a conundrum, and he wasn’t sure how to face it.

“Do you have a tail,” you asked, a sly smile on your face. You pulled your hands back slowly, letting them fall back down to your sides. You rolled your shoulders, and gave Alastor an expectant look.

“You can find out, if,” He hesitated just the slightest amount. “If you continue that in my room. Away from any possible prying eyes.” Alastor darted his eyes around, and saw nothing. In Hell, however, that didn’t mean much. With a hand against the small of your back, he started leading you. He didn’t need you to verbalize your answer, the elation splitting your face was answer enough.

He would never admit it outside that room, but he could very easily have fallen asleep for the first time in a long time, under the pleasant ministrations of your fingers.

Remember, you can join my taglist by replying to my pinned post! It helps me keep track!

@girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastor-simp @thonethatflies620 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice

#alastor x reader #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fluff #fanfic

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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Devour

Uhhhhhh... I don't know where this came from. I have only written smut once, so ignore this if it is terrible. It's not really smut. it's more like Alastor thinking about stuff while licking you, lol.

Alastor ponders his affection for you, and his desire to devour you.

Pairing: Alastor x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Thoughts of cannibalism/violence, affection, light smut, oral female receiving, Minors DNI.

Word Count: 647 (Very, very short)

Alastor wanted to devour you. Every part of your soul. He wanted your flesh dripping from his mouth, and snared in his teeth. He wanted the taste of you to linger on his tongue for weeks, and randomly flood his mouth again. Deep down, he knew he would regret it instantly, but there was something about tearing into your body that called to him. He knew it was that he loved you, and this was the only way he could rationalize that feeling. How could anyone ever look at you, or harm you, if you were forever part of him? How could you ever turn your back to him, or leave him, if your flesh was made one with his?

Alastor could not take part of your flesh like that. He wanted you by his side, even if some small part of him didn’t. He wanted to be able to see your smile, and hear your laughter, and so he had to deny that desire. So he made the two of you one in another way.

His tongue flattened against your slit, teeth grazing against the soft skin. His claws pressed against the meat of your thighs, keeping them open for him. Alastor’s ears twitched at the soft sighs and pants that left your throat. Your hands twitched, one was pulling at his hair, soft tugs when he made your body jolt with pleasure.

Alastor loved the feeling of control he got when he touched you like this. He also felt so close to you. That possessive heat that curled low in his belly filled him to the brim when your legs spread for him. The soft cries of his name, and the way your cunt squeezed his fingers tightly. Every little thing was just for him, and it left him nearly dizzy. And how you tasted. It was something he would miss if you were gone, and thus he quelled that need.

His tongue flicked your clit, and your thighs pushed against his hands. “Calm, dearest. I’ll get you there. Just enjoy this,” he whispered, and you could only whimper in response. He loved taking his time with you. You got so desperate, and it made his cock twitch.

Alastor lifted your thighs, letting your knees come over his shoulders, and he kneeled on the bed. His shifted the two of you back, and folded you in half. Like this, he could see the frenzied desperation on your face as he pressed his tongue into you.

Your breath came in wild pants as he pressed his long tongue into you, curling the muscle tight.

“Alastor… Please,” you begged, your voice barely audible. Your eyelids fluttered as he twisted his tongue about. One of his hands pressed against your navel, your warm thighs touching the top of his hand. The pressure, along with the way he flicked his tongue, and pushed it deeper inside you, sent your soft walls fluttering.

You were so close, and he could feel it. He wanted it all to himself.

“Come for me, mon cœur.”

Your body pulls taut under him, and he watches with deep satisfaction at the way your face contorts.

What a wonderful sight you always made. He would never grow tired of it. It was the way you sighed, and the way your soft body went lax after an orgasm. It was the way you lazily smiled up at him, and the way your soft hands stroked his face. It was the small kisses, and the quiet sighs as he found home in you. These were some of the reasons he fought the desire to tear your beautiful body and soul to pieces.

Alastor would never truly understand how he felt, but he knew that he wanted you beside him, even if it meant he would remain longing for something he couldn’t have for the rest of eternity.

There is no taglist on this one, because I need to set up a Mature!Taglist. I will look into setting one up for that. Again, minors DNI. You shouldn't be able to read this.

I hope this was ok. I plan on writing smut at some point, so maybe be on the lookout for that? I will also answer NSFW asks if I am comfortable with the subject. I will let you know if I'm not.

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #bun's short fics #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #devour #smut #alastor x reader smut #fanfic #fluff #dark alastor thoughts

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

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- [ ] SORRY THIS IS SO LONG! (This is a Alastor x fem! Cat! Reader)Okay so you know the scene where Alastor threatens Husk? The first part is the same thing it’s just that the reader saw the whole thing, unnoticed by neither Alastor or Husk. After it’s over, Alastor sees the reader(who totally has a crush on her), her looking right back at him with ears “pinned” to her head and a horrified look in her eyes. Since her and Husk are besties(slay💅🏻) furiously, she goes over to Husk to help him up. He assures her he’s fine and she walks away, absolutely furious with Al. He can’t help but feel a little guilty and remorseful, both feelings he’s not used to. Day after day of the reader ignoring him, he try’s to get her to forgive him but she’s a very stubborn feline. She isn’t easy to forgive after something like that. One day, after months, he finally gives up and hides in his room. He’s completely lost in thought and feels a bit upset and ashamed. He doesn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the reader is at the bar, talking with Husk. As much as he despises Alastor, he tries to encourage the reader to talk to him. She finally complies and goes to his hotel room . She hears barely audible sobs through the door but knocks anyway. At last, she is met face to face with the demon himself, failing to hide his tear stained face. She can’t help but feel a little forgiveness for him. Long story short, he opens up to her, she forgives him and happily ever after❤️

Hi, sorry this took so long. A lot has happened to me in the last two weeks. I don't think I hit everything in this ask, but I hope it is still good?

Reminder

Pairing: Alastor x Cat!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Angst, that scene in Dad Beat Dad, sad Alastor angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2,003

There was something to be said about how easy it could be to forget who he was. Maybe it was his charisma, the way he so easily drew you in to him. Maybe it was the way he smiled at you, how he could seem so soft with you, when he was so cold and sharp with others. There was so much about him that you admired, too, and it made it all so easy to forget. He always smiled, and although there was something to be said about toxic positivity, it made you happy, made it easier to smile back. You adored the way he held himself, always so confident. It was something you strived to emulate. But sometimes, he reminded you of who he was; The Radio Demon. Sometimes that little hind-brain of yours lit up at the sight of him, and all the things you knew about him would come flooding back.

Alastor was meant to be feared. He had earned his power in Hell, and to do that he had done awful, terrifying things. It seemed you needed a reminder, because you had grown far too comfortable with him.

You followed quietly after Husk. He had taken off after Alastor and the Morningstar’s just after Mimzy had shown up. You didn’t know much about her, but with the way your friend had looked at her, you knew she wasn’t good news. Wishing to know more, you had followed after, hoping to join whatever conversation Husk and Alastor started up.

You did not find what you had expected. Husk and Alastor seemed to be arguing, which wasn’t unusual, but the way Al responded was strange. He looked annoyed. Husk yelled at Alastor, and Alastor responded with a laugh, and then Husk said something that shocked you down to your core.

“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash,” Husk had whispered hoarsely. Someone owned Alastor’s soul? How? Who? What could have possibly happened to do such a thing?

Your tail swished roughly against the floor, and your ears perked forward to hear more of the conversation. Eavesdropping wasn’t a good thing, but you needed to know more.

Alastor’s head swiveled around in a terrifying way. The hallway grew darker, and his form grew large. “Aha! What did you say?” Alastor asks rhetorically.

A green chain wraps around Husk’s throat, and it makes your heart jump. Alastor was going to hurt him! Your body grows stiff, and you watch on in horror as Alastor grows to a gigantic height, filling the hallway. He stalks towards Husk, and he starts yelling. You can’t hear a word, though, over the pounding of your heart. Your ears pin flat against your head, and your tail tucks itself around one of your legs.

The whole ordeal is done in just a moment, and Alastor is back to his normal size. Husk is shaking, quivering on the ground, and despite the risk, you can’t help but rush towards him.

“Husk!” Your soft hands wrap around his forearms, and you help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Your head swivels, and you keep your eyes locked on Alastor, who has stopped walking away. His brows are sharply downturned, and despite the smile still lingering on his face, he looks desperately confused. Your tail whips back and forth behind you, drawing his gaze. His brows furrow further, and he cocks his head. He calls your name, and you can only shake your head in response.

Something sharp grows in your chest when you look back at Husk. He still looks terrified, something you’ve never seen. How could you forget yourself? How could you forget who Alastor is? The two of you were on separate planes entirely. Whatever were you thinking?

You take in a sharp breath, and continue checking over Husk. The other feline assures you he’s fine, but you know better. You sigh, and push him to head back downstairs. You ignore the prickling feeling of Alastor’s gaze on your back. You need to separate yourself from him. It was not worth the risk.

Alastor can’t begin to describe the way he had been feeling over the last several weeks. While the hotel had burst into action for Charlie’s trip, and everything that came of it, he had been dealing with something else entirely. The threat Heaven posed was nothing, not when your eyes held such disdain, such fear within their depths. It was all because of him, too. There was no one to blame but himself.

Alastor hated the feelings that were swirling in his gut. He hated how weak they made him. He hated how much he wanted you by his side, again. There was something so wonderful and enticing about how little you cared about his station, and now it was gone. You were deeply aware of his power over others, and you had removed yourself from his side.

He had to do those kinds of things, though! That is what bothered him most. He needed to put the souls he owned back in their place when they disobeyed, when they spoke against him. Husker was no different. He might have been one of Alastor’s favorites, but Husker only had so long of a leash to pull and tug, and he had cut it short, that day. Alastor couldn’t understand why you didn’t understand that.

His affection for you had long since weakened him. It was something that kept him awake when he rarely lied down to rest. It buzzed in his thoughts when he was meant to be focusing on anything else. And yet. There was something so intoxicating about being around you. You were warm, and your face sent flutters down his spine. He couldn’t fathom why you were different from all those before, but you were, and that was that. It was much too late to change it now, he would have to cope with all these changes in his afterlife.

The way your ears pinned back, and your tail flicked back and forth whenever you saw him, hurt. He was used to Husker responding that way to his presence, but at least that cat-demon bothered to acknowledge him. You outright ignored him to the best of your ability. You barely looked at him, and you hadn't spoken to him in weeks. It had affected the dynamics within the hotel, something that Charlie had brought up to him.

Alastor could only respond, “I have no clue, my dear. I’m sure it will work itself out in time.” Alastor lied through his teeth, and tried not to let that angry pit in his belly from eating at him. It hurt, but he refused to admit anything out loud. He could live with this, and he could move on. Smile, smile, smile, and smile he did. Even at his own expense.

He passed by the bar, and there you were, chatting with Husker. You had a bright drink in your hand, and you were laughing. The sound was bliss for Alastor, as he had gone so long without the sweet sound. Husker was rolling his eyes, continuing to tell some story that Alastor couldn’t bother to focus on. He just watched the way you reacted, and his chest ached. Something must have alerted you to his presence, however, because you turned, your eyes just barely glancing over him, before you stiffened, and turned back around. All contentment seemed to leech from you, and Alastor’s entire body seized.

So it was like that, was it? This is what all the months you had spent together had come to? All his wasted feelings, for nothing. Alastor could feel his smile slipping, so he stalked off to his room. With a strange sound escaping from his throat, he resolved to rid himself of these horrid feelings.

There would be no more weakness, not on Alastor’s part. What was any of it worth? What was a heart meant for, if not to be trod on? Hot, wet tears trail down his cheeks, sore at the effort of keeping up his smile. One of his hands tug at the thick locks of hair closest to his face. His ears flop back, and he lets himself go loose as he makes it to his room. He would not let it happen again.

Husk sighs, and it draws your anxious gaze to him. “I know this probably ain’t what yer wantin’ to hear, but you should probably talk to Alastor.”

You frown. “Why would I do that? He hurt you, Husk, and he was threatening to do worse. I shouldn’t have been any form of anything with him, dude.” You sigh, and your eyes trace invisible patterns on the bar top. “I should have known better. It was a wake-up call, and I have heeded it.”

Husk grunts, and he sets down the glass he had been cleaning. “I know, but he’s been off for a while now, and I think he regrets it, even if he refuses to admit it. I was also pushing things, shouldn’t have done that. It’s how Hell is, and I made my bed with that fact, long ago.” Husk puts his hand on your shoulder, and you meet his eyes. His expression is serious. “You were happier around him, too. Don’t let this one thing stop you from that. I hate him, that’s true, but you’re a good friend. You also mellow him out, a lot. I think, if you do this right, we’d all be better for it.”

You let out a harsh breath, and glare at the end of your t ail that curls around your ankle. The thought of Alastor makes your heart pound, and you know it isn’t just fear. You wanted to let that feeling grow, but you were so afraid of all the things he could do, just because he wanted to. Was it worth the risk?

Husk seemed to know what you were thinking and just said, “You’ve got this, kid.”

With a huff, you pushed up from the stool, and hopped down. You could do this. You just needed to confront The Radio Demon. And make it out alive. And maybe confess your budding feelings. Who knows.

There was a knock at his door. It made his head ache. Everything felt strange, but he managed to make it up from where he had been slumped against the wall, and get to the door. He pressed his head against it, and listened closely.

“Alastor, can we talk?” He could hear your soft voice, and the slight waiver it had. His chest squeezed harshly, and he couldn’t help but swing the door wide open.

“Sweetheart!” His voice was harsh and gravelly, and his static surged at the sight of you. Oh, your sweet little cat ears twitched at every noise, and your little tail was curled around your ankles. Oh, you seemed so nervous? Whatever did he do? “You’ve come to talk to me?”

“Oh, Al…” You whispered, your face awash with pity. Alastor felt self-loathing and something heavy twist his gut. He brushed off his pants, trying to relieve himself of the feeling. “We should talk, but we should probably get you some water first. You look a mess.”

And then you were smiling at him. It was a small one, but it held so much light in it. Alastor felt some of that lightness fill him up, and he could only hope it stayed.

One of your soft hands reached up towards his head, and he settled his cheek into it. Your thumb rubbed at his tear-stained face.

“I’m sorry, cher,” Alastor mumbled. He didn’t know where the words had come from, but they bubbled up and out of him before he could stop them.

“I know. We’ll talk about it, don’t worry.” And those words calmed him. The two of you would figure this out. It would take time, but he was sure he’d have your affections again, even if something had to change.

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

Text

confessions WIP

This is a WIP. Gonna darken his skin tone maybe? Make his ears smaller. I also can’t decide on if I want to make him more cartoony or keep this style.

Priest Alastor being weird I guess

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hot priest #priest alastor #digital art #digital illustration #work in progress

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

Note

I really really LOVE the Touch chapters with Alastor. You write it so well! Although you have a fic on touch now already I was wondering if I could request something similar?

Persoanlly I think I'd be a really affectionate and touchy person but I simply cannot initiate touch without knowing where to touch, how long, how much pressure and so on. And asking people before hand makes them really confused and tbh I hate having to explain myself and sound needy about it. Idk if it's just me having some weird thing going on.

Anyways, would you consider writing Al with a reader that just got to the hotel and is very straight forward with people about their fear of initiating physical contact during times where reader knows someone would appreciate a hug or pat or any kind of physical contact but reader can't give it them before clearing just how hey want the touch to be.

So Alastor notices that reader acts very affectionate in moments with people who initiate touch (cuddles with Angel on the couch, does Charlie's hair). But at the same time he notices that they shy away and sometimes flinch away when reader touches someone by accident (handing someone something and their hands brush, etc) and apologizes as if they had just burned them.

He goes to figure out why that is and kind of challenges reader to touch him (after him consenting of course) whenever because the struggle and fear amuses him plenty but somewhere deep down he wants them to grow comfortable and confident since that is how their personality is over all and it suits them way better than the cowardly insecure overthinking reader who is too scared to ask for a hug on an especially bad day, even when it could literally save their afterlife.

Just fluff and more physical affection and soft Alastor

You don't have to though! We have already been blessed with some amazing works by you

Would appreciate it to the moon and back if you would take this request (or add another part to your Touch chapters because I am a girl OBSSESSED and starved, hungry for more lol)

Thank you sooooo much for reading and I hope you have a lovely weekend!!!!! <3

Hi! I hope this is something like what you wanted? I had fun writing this. Sorry it took me a little while, haha.

Challenge

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Tags: Fluff, touch sensitive reader/Alastor, slightest tinge of angst

Word Count: 2,839

When you had come to the hotel, Alastor was sure you weren’t going to last long. You avoided eye-contact with others, and your hands constantly fidgeted. You shifted on your feet, and rocked back on your heels constantly. Even when standing in one place, you couldn’t seem to be still. You seemed shifty, and he was sure you would pull something, and he would have to remove you. Alas, he was wrong. You stuck around, even if your weird tendencies only got weirder.

In the several weeks you had been residing in the hotel, not once had you initiated contact with anyone, not that he had seen. Alastor was sure you didn’t like it, until he saw Angel pick you up like a stuffed animal, and make you cuddle with him while watching the television. You had melted into the embrace, nuzzling against the soft fur of Angel’s upper shoulders. So Alastor needed to keep watching, and come up with a new explanation for your behavior.

At some point, Charlie had begged to ‘play’ with your long hair, so the two of you ended up dragging everyone into the sitting room for an impromptu ‘spa’ day. Charlie sat behind you, you were nearly in her lap, braiding one section of hair, and Vaggie was painting your claws. Angel was brushing out Husker’s fur. Niffty and Sir Pentious were talking and looking at the make up laid out across the coffee table. Alastor merely watched, amused by the group's antics every once in a while.

He watched the way your eyes fluttered when you were embraced by the girls, and the way you seemed so at ease. Nothing seemed particularly amiss. He wondered if you hadn’t been comfortable yet, and had nearly settled with that. That was, until Angel came home, nearly in tears, one day.

“Fuck!” Angel yelled, tossing his phone harshly. It was rare for Angel Dust to have such an outward burst of anger. He always put on a show of being satisfied with his work, even when he clearly wasn’t. When Angel had settled on one of the couches, his face collapsed into his hands. “I’m so fucking tired of Val…”

Angel mumbled to himself as you entered the lobby. You glanced at Angel, and then his shattered phone. You frowned, your soft features looking nearly angry, and then picked up his phone, and made your way to him. Alastor watched from the bar, interested to see how this interaction went.

“Hey, Angie. I uh, I got your phone,” you said quietly. You sat off to the side of the couch, looking out of place, and uncomfortable.

Angel mumbled something back, and your frown grew more severe. “I uh,” your voice trailed off, and your eyes started darting around. “Do you - do you want, like, a hug? I don’t really know what you need right now, I’m sorry.”

Alastor watches as Angel turns his head and whispers something to you. He doesn’t seem confused, not like Alastor is. He is clearly missing something. His eyes narrow, and he watches as you crawl up on the couch and awkwardly settle yourself against Angel’s side.

How bizarre! How could you possibly not know what he needed? You were a very empathetic person, always looking out for others, and you liked being held, clearly, so how would you lack this kind of knowledge.

Alastor decides to confront you about it, at a later time. He needed to know everything about this. Perhaps it would be useful!

The next day, Alastor decides to try and get you to touch him, and then go from there. (It had been a little while since he had decided to ‘wing’ something like this. How exciting! You weren’t a bore at all!) His best bet would be to invite you to assist him for the day, so he invites you to when you’re heading down the stairs that morning.

“Ah! Just the woman I was looking for! How are you this morning, dearest?” He settles his hand on the banister, near where yours is resting, and waits.

“Oh! Good morning Alastor. I’m doing okay. What is it you needed me for?” Your smile is gentle and your demeanor open, even if you can’t keep eye-contact.

“I was wondering if you would like to assist me today? We haven’t had much ‘bonding’ time as you and the others! I was hoping to rectify that,” he responds. He keeps his normal flair and watches you giggle at him.

“Of course, Al. It’s not like I had much going on today.” You pull back from the banister and twist to look at him better. “What do you have in mind?”

Alastor merely nods, and starts leading you down to the kitchen. “I was thinking you could assist me with breakfast, and then we can do some minor paperwork! We’ll decide what to do after that.”

You happily agree, and trail after him, leaving just enough space so you can’t ump into him.

“We are going to make french-toast, fried green tomatoes, and ham. Should be simple enough, dear!” He snaps, and the two of you are wearing aprons. You let out a surprised laugh, and smile up at him.

“I will never get over how cool that is!”

He waves you off, and starts pulling things out of the cabinets. He hands each one to you, waiting for you to make contact.

Then it happens.

You jerk your hand back so fast that the whisk he’d been handing to you falls to the floor with a clatter. Your whole body seems to shrink in on yourself, and your expression collapses.

“Oh. Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You start rambling apologies, and it makes Alastor’s head cock to the side.

“Why are you sorry, dear?” His voice lilts with just the slightest amount of amusement, but you don’t seem to catch on to it.

“I- I touched you! I’m sorry! I don’t know how to do it appropriately, and I’m sorry! You have more boundaries than the others and I just-” Your rambling starts to annoy him, just the slightest bit, and his eyes narrow.

“I would tell you, if I had a problem with it,” he starts. “You don’t normally have a problem. Why is it a problem now?”

You frown, harshly. It is the first time he has seen such a negative emotion on your face. (Something in him is unsettled at the sight. He ignores it, as he often does). “What do you mean? That’s not the same!”

Alastor is now genuinely confused. It is absolutely the same! How could it not be?

You seem to catch onto his confusion, and a small growl rips from your throat in frustration. “I’m okay with people touching me first, because that’s initiating contact, and they lead the whole time. It’s easier to understand what people want, and where it is okay to touch, based on how they feel, and how they are touching me. But, but when I do it first, it’s hard to know what’s okay! I don’t have someone to mimic, and it’s- it’s hard!” Your face contorts further, and you’re palpably angry.

“All these social rules, and stuff can be so hard sometimes! It’s easier to just not do it! How can I hurt anyone if I don’t give myself the opportunity, you know?” You sigh, and drop your upper body on the kitchen island’s counter. “It sucks,” you say, your voice muffled by the counter.

Alastor feels a modicum of sympathy. You nearly have the exact opposite problem to him. You want to touch other, craving that closeness, but don’t know how to go about it. He would rather go without it, but knows exactly how to use touch on others, especially to get what he wants.

His mind whirls with thoughts of how pathetic you seem like this. You are normally so confident! Why let this silly worry prevent you from being the best you can be? His thoughts settle on a plan before he can really acknowledge it.

“Alright then, dearest!” Alastor smacks the counter, drawing your attention. “I have an idea. A challenge, if you will. To help you get over this silly fear of yours, I challenge you to this; you must touch me every day, at least once. Each touch must be a different kind than the last, and it can’t be for the same reason.” Alastor tilts his head at you, waiting for you to take the bait. “You are allowed to do it without asking, and it can be as big or small as you are comfortable with, but you need to do it. If you can do this, to the point where you are comfortable hugging the others without worrying about “hurting” them, then you win.”

Your head pops up from the counter, and you narrow your eyes at him. “What do I win?”

Alastor feels his grin widen. Yes, you would be fun to play with. “A small favor. Something simple. And confidence. It’s a shame that you are being held back by something so simple!”

You huff, but nod your head. “Fine. I touch you, once a day, unsolicited, and it’s gotta be different each time, or something like that. I win when I can hug everyone else without being touched first.”

“There’s my girl,” he says, watching your whole body stiffen in response. He laughs, and picks up the whisk from the floor. “Let’s continue with breakfast, yes?”

The first time you touch him is during a “movie night” that Charlie sets up the next day. She demanded Alastor participate, despite his well known hatred of television, and everything to do with that technology. You had silently approached him as the group set up pillows and blankets on the floor around the TV, and against the couches. The two of you watched idly, before you spoke up.

“Can I sit with you,” you asked softly.

“Of course, dear! Good company might make this terrible idea more… palatable,” Alastor grumbled. You smile at him, and laugh a little.

“Oh, the horror. Sitting with your friends, and relaxing,” you respond, tilting your head at him. His static surges for a moment, but he says nothing in response. You laugh again, although he’s not quite sure why.

When the group finally gets settled in for the movie, and the lights are turned off, he watches you shift about in your seat. Your eyes dart around the room, and your hands fidget. It takes a few minutes, the intro to the movie already going, for you to finally look at him. You scoot closer to him, more than halfway across the couch. You wait another moment, and Alastor’s eyes don’t move from your form. He just watches you fidget with amusement. Finally, you speak up, barely a whisper.

“Hey, can- can I lean on you?” You are so hesitant, and it makes his eyebrows furrow, just the slightest.

“Of course, dear,” he whispers back, his static barely a murmur. Your body slackens, all the tension drawn out.

“Oh, good,” you mumble, pressing your small form against his side. It takes a few moments, but then you are completely calm against him, head pressed into his arm, your hands against his waist, and knees curled up under you and tucked against his thigh. You mumble something about him being warm, and all Alastor can do is agree.

You are so very warm, and it has him almost anxious. He isn’t sure what about, as the room is calm, and the silly animated picture-show is easily ignored. You are so very warm, and he can feel each breath your body breathes in. He can nearly hear the soft pound of your heartbeat, even over the picture-show. His nose twitches at your scent. He will have to take a far-too hot bath later to remove it. It’s fine, though. It’s all part of the game.

Alastor ignores that you’ve fallen asleep on him. It’s for the best.

The next day, you offer him a “fist-bump”, which he doesn’t understand. You laugh, and explain the gesture, and show him how it looks.

“You do it when you did something cool, or when you’re having fun with your friends.” You smile at him and constantly gesture with your hands while you talk. It keeps his attention quite easily. “Ah, here, let’s see if you understand. What was the last cool thing you did? It can be whatever.”

Alastor thinks over the last few days exploits, and shrugs. “I made a sinner cry by merely looking at him, this morning.”

You go stock still before bursting out laughing. “Really? Oh my gosh. Seriously, fist-bump,” and you offer your knuckles. Alastor hesitantly returns the gesture, knocking your hands together. However clumsily it was done, it makes your smile wider. “Nice! Yeah, that’s exactly how you do it!”

If he tries the gesture on the others later on, he never tells you. Charlie got a kick out if, though. He refuses to tell her who told him about it.

One day, you’re assisting Niffty cleaning, but can’t reach a spot way too high for either of you to get. Neither of you can find a ladder, and Alastor is watching with a far too delighted smile. When you spot him, you smile mischievously.

“Alastoorrrrr,” You call, your eyes narrowing playfully. “Come here. Please.”

He strides over, not letting his hesitance show. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

“Can I get up on your shoulders? I need to be able to reach that spot with the duster.” You point up at where you need to dust. He looks over at it, and realizes you are definitely not getting up there without help.

Alastor cocks his head at you, thinking over the logistics, and then nods. He kneels down, and feels you pull yourself onto his back, propping each leg over his shoulders. When you are still, hands gently around his neck, he stands up straight. He feels you wobble and then balance with a laugh. Your hands let go of him. He feels each breath and laugh and words from you gently vibrate his head with how close the two of you are.

“I’m so tall! Hahah! This is great! I wish I was always this tall, haha!” You keep laughing, and readjust your duster, pointing at your destination. “Onwards, my steed!”

Alastor rolls his eyes at your antics, but obliges, standing closer to where you need to be. Niffty is squealing, and it’s making you laugh harder. Alastor joins in at some point, and then the three of you are running around the first floor of the hotel, terrorizing the others with your hijinks.

Alastor thinks, privately, that you make him laugh over the little things, something that he hasn’t done in a while. He isn’t sure how to feel about it.

It’s several weeks after the challenge had been initiated, that he finds you hiding in a side-closet. Alastor isn’t sure how he knew you would be there, but the discovery throws him. You’re crying. Nearly bawling your eyes out, and you look uncomfortable with the way your small body is curled into a tight ball, surrounded by cleaning supplies.

“Oh, hey, Al,” you say, your voice rough. “How’d you find me?”

“Just needed to follow the sound of despair, apparently, my dear,” he responds without a thought. He nearly winces when his words process, and he shakes his head. “I’m not sure, dear. Whatever are you doing in there?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something upset me, but I can’t remember what.” Your voice trails off, and you look at where you have situated yourself. You huff, and pull yourself out with a grunt.

You dust off your knees, and the back of your pants, frowning. “Sorry you had to see that, haha.” You try to muster a smile, but Alastor sees right through it. “Right.”

Alastor simply watches as you shut the closet door, and try and calm yourself down.

“Gosh, I feel dumb.” You frown at the ground, and sigh. “Alright. Can I have a hug?”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. Oh. You were finally ready to hug him. How interesting.

“Of course, dear.” He opens his arms, not even bothering to check for others seeing the interaction. You rub your face, and then step between his arms. You wrap yourself around him, loose at first, and then you embrace him hard. His arms fall around you, and he pulls you in close. His head settles on top of yours.

You are still so warm, and you smell wonderful; something comforting, something familiar. Your heart thrums against your ribs, and he can feel it pounding. His ears twitch at every soft sound.

This is nice. Although there is still time, part of him mourns the day you are ready to win his challenge. He supposes he can enjoy each little bit of connection the two of you have, until then.

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