I ate your heart
warnings: graphic description of: violence, SA, gore, mentions of cannibalism, murder, reader almost gets graped, alcoholism*, manipulation, ‘victim blaming,’ unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content - alastor and readers relationship is up for interpretation
dawg imagine you get killed by yan human alastor.🫣
like you’re thinking that you’ll finally be safe in the afterlife, hoping that you got a spot in heaven. (yet apparently, premarital sex would automatically remove your spot in line for a chance at salvation)
blasphemy does those kinda things🤷🏻
doesn’t matter if you lived as a nun. helping sinners see the light and righteousness of god. doesn’t matter if you fed por hand your entire life. or even if you solved the trolly problem.
one toe out of line, and your ass is grass.
so you’re in hell. if you knew you’d be going to hell you would’ve done a lot worse things in your human life for more power.
imagine living on the low, yeah you’ve killed people, maybe even took a soul or two. but it’s nothing to brag about, especially compared to the over lords.
—
very important note at the end.
1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.
-
by pressing ‘read more’ you have consented to reading this.
just a few years into your stay they started going missing. one, by one.
there was a whisper in the wind, a chill in the air as everyone had this impending sense of dread as a new over lord would be found almost daily. ripped to shreds, horribly mutilated, with missing limbs and ginormous bite marks that would open the food gates for intestines to spill out and pool around them.
sometimes there were no intestines at all.
or a body.
yet there was always a new broadcast
it wasn’t an exaggeration that everyone has been looking over their shoulders whenever the shadows looked a bit longer than usual. when the air starting churning and crackling. when the sudden sound of screaming ripped through the air. it was a natural hell-born reflex to flinch at the slightest noise of static.
a conditioning technique his radio broadcasts seemed to involuntarily instill on sinners.
you’ve never seen this so called ‘radio demon’ in person before. well, barely have been able to escape him and tell the tale so you weren’t sure what to look for.
or look out for. all you knew is that his name was alastor. and that whenever you heard that name you blood ran cold and your body stiffened.
tour mind would ring and your head would pound as you try to remember just where you’ve heard that name before.
yet your memory always failed you.
but alcohol never did.
seated at a bar as noisy club music blasted, you trace your finger longingly on the rim of your shot glass. eyes already drooping as your wrist which was keeping your head propped up started to ache.
you wouldn’t call yourself an alcoholic per say. more of a,,, continuous connoisseur. which was surprising due to the  hellish prices on everything here.
it’s not eternal damnation unless there’s a 5% sales tax plus gruitivity.
so instead of working your ass off to make a living, you’ve decided: ‘hey, it’s hell! i can do whatever i want (to an extent) and so i choose to scam men!!’
with every new bar came a new rotation of men looking to take up the empty seat next to you. you puffed your chest as you recalled a few women and non conforming folks take the seat sometimes.
you always made sure to… entertain them.
feeling a familiar pit in your stomach, you pause your hand. the coldness of the shot glass cooling your hot lips as the animal man next to you howls with laughter. the alcohol hitting his system like a firecracker.
and like clock work, his hand slipped around your waist, as he whispered filthy nothings you didn’t bother to catch, having heard it all before. even the sweet begging to take out to one of the many sex rooms the club has.
yet he dragged you towards the exit.
and you allowed him.
you thought it comically ironic that you were doing just the thing that punched your ticket down here.
the bitter cold nipped at your skin and tickled your brain. you were always so confused with the temperature of hell. freezing at night, scorching during the day.
even he’ll hated the homeless. who knew 🤷🏻
in the alley next to the club the animal man was biting and clawing at you. panting and speaking gibberish as his clumsy movements seemed to cause a new line of blood on your skin. you couldn’t do much to stop it.
limbs and eyes heavy as you tried focusing on him, on his wandering hands, his filthy mouth.
you wanted to go home.
he favored ignoring your sluggish mumbling and groans to comment about ‘wanting to fuck you nice and hard, giving you a few kits to remember him by.’
your clothes were practically in shreds. the chill in the air adding a faux impression of clarity as your arms started to weakly bang against him.
you didn’t even think he noticed as your fists wouldn’t even make it to his chest. you were so weak right now.
the only reason you weren’t crumpled on the ground as because he were pinning your entire body to the wall.
yet the inconsistent grip he had on you caused you to ping pong a bit.
“s stowp” you slurred, head lolling down as you felt his claws stop momentarily. he let out a cackle that rang through your eyes and rattled your brian stem.
fuck. you hissed. this is gonna one shit of a hang over
the drunk broke your thoughts as he continued his drunken rambles.
“the moment you took the sshhhot” spit flew in your face “i paid for… you were mine” he pushed his face in your neck, the hotness of his breathe sending distressed shivers down your body. urging your body to WAKE UP
yet he kept you pinned. you head looked to the side when tears started streaming down your face and with a big, slimy lick he greedily lapped them up.
you started struggling once his claws moved to your legs.
fuck fuck fuck you fucked up. you fucked up. why did you think this was a good idea, you knew something bad was going to happen. why didn’t you just listen to your gut. why didn’t you just take his watch and turn to the next man. why did you entertain him.
why did you let him buy you that drink.
“angel shot” had different meanings for the orderer.
if a woman ordered it, then security would either beat the shit or kill the demon she pointed out. (whether the staff respected women or just wanted an excuse to get blood on their hands, was a topic you often avoided thinking about)
but, if a man orders it… he wants to take a woman to the heavenly gates of sovereignty himself.
that last part is often open to interpretation.
nothing ever got done about these drinks. you were in hell after all. you think the politicians would ban something they invited?
the sting of his drool on an open, bloody bite mark on your collarbone ripped you from the sanctuary of your minds palace as his glowing yellow pierced into yours.
in an instant you felt nails digging into the flesh of your bruised and battered neck. blood dripped from your neck and onto your body as he squeezed harder.
black spots danced across your vision, followed by white, then purple, then red.
“help” you choked out, head lolling to the alley way as people walked by, not even phased. it was just an average day in hell after all.
the arm that wasn’t trying to put distance between you and him was heavily reaching out towards the street. hoping anyone, anything would come save you from your fuck up.
“get ready to meet god, bitch” he growled, hands-
there was a squelching noise as his breathe stilled. you dropped to the ground, hard. as he let go of you. his clawed hands fell limp to his sides. his face was blank as he staggered back.
“w-what” he stuttered, arms shakily moving to his stomach- well, what used to be his stomach- as a black tendril was impaling him.
you couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand or lift your eyes to see the scene before you. your heart beat was slow, yet thunderous in your ears. it’s thump almost made you miss the pleading, miss the screams of absolute anguish as the sound of flesh tearing and static and laughter filled the air. miss the way his head rolled in your direction before a dark, clawed hand reached from the hands and snatched it back.
it felt like hours before someone came up to you. but realistically, it was only a few seconds before you felt something hard and metal touch your head. only for the oddly shaped stick to wrap around your hair and yank your head up.
you groaned at the pain, eyes droopy as you struggled to stay conscious. you wouldn’t have been able to fight even if you wanted to.
paralyzing fear that washed over you like a tsunami, RUN. a voice spoke. yet you couldn’t even breath automatically. that job becoming harder and harder with each passing second. you couldn’t forget about the possibility of broken bones after… your viscous assault.
so you had no choice but to stay pliant to the new player in the game. 
“well well well” your eyes snapped up, your eyes met the abyss as a ferocious, crazed grin greeted you.
“it seems you carried over that habit of keeping… bad company he mused. although there was a hint of amusement in his radio voice, you knew there was nothing to laugh about.
he sighed before picking up the demons decapitated head by his hair. pushing it toward your face you were forced to smell him.
he pulled his staff- you- closer to the head, your upper body twisted uncomfortably as you were almost nose to nose with you.
a whine left your throat as alastor face came into your peripheral vision.
“what’s wrong? i thought you two were in the middle of something! but all means continue, i would hate to intrude”
he wasn’t talking about tonight. you knew that.
you felt your consciousness slip for a moment, only for a moment as a sharp sting penetrate your skull.
in a moments time the head was gone, but it was replaced by a dreaded sense of dejavú.
your brows widened as the face of pure, unadulterated fear contorted onto your face.
his grin only seemed to widen as his eyes crinkled harder.
“it seems someone remembers something. tell me miss y/n” he leaned closer, some kind of indigenous symbols started to crackle and float around him.
“tell me what you remember” he sneered, radio voice growling as his horn stretched out longer than before.
your mouth was dry, yet your tears were bountiful as your body’s natural reactions took over.
you were petrified. alastor knew this as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of terror that cling to you like perfume as you struggled to speak.
he hummed in what sounded like disappointment. but you were never sure what he was feeling as that damned smile was always glued on his face. even now.
he stepped away as he dropped your head, luckily your arms were positioned as the perfect pillow for your head to fall onto.
“since that cat has clearly stolen your tongue” he mused, briefly looking to the furry body he just… exterminated. he got bigger. horns growing even linger from his head, like branches from a tree, his already deformed limbs cracked and snapped like twigs as they went in all they grew longer, and larger in thr wrong directions.
you hadn’t thought it possible, but his smile grew larger, sharper as more teeth were revealed. pointy, yellow stained teeth with chunks of flesh and fur still in them smiled at you.
you were scared.
scared for you life-
your soul.
you wanted an escape.
giving up on physical escape meant the only place safe was your mind. yet even there he still resides.
yet his limbs weren’t twisted and broken, his voice wasn’t shrouded in statics and his hair most certainly wasn’t red.
you gasped.
alastor.
his face deepened.
“so you’ve remembered…”
you were shaking, visibly shaking as you saw two of him.
one with full teeth and brown eyes and hair… the other…
monstrous, nightmarish. hell-ish
why’d you think you could escape him, why’d you think you’d get mercy in your afterlife, when you didn’t revive any in your past life.
you didn’t wanna die by the same man twice.
alastor, who could practically read your mind inched his face down further
“don’t worry little one, i do not plan on making the same mistake twice.” like a flicker of a candle his demonic form turned into his human form. though you must have imagined or hallucinated it. as the thing was still there.
yet with each passing moment his horns subdued into his head. his grin downgraded into a smile as the symbols slinked out of existence one by one.
“i was quite… emotional back then.” he pet your hair, instantly stopping your shaking. he pretended it wasn’t because you were scared stiff.
“i didn’t know how to react when i heard you had a midnight rendezvous with the librarians son. it broken my heart” he sniffles, eyes slowly turning back into red slits.
“it saddened me, woed me to do what i had to do.” he sighed. you felt a punch to your gut as his personality did a compete 180.
“i never wanted to… yet you left me in a tricky situation” he shook his head sadly, palm against his cheek to empathize his sadness.
“but!” he said, a smile on his face as he pointed up. “i know it wasn’t your fault, that boy had been ogling you far too long so i did the only thing i thought that was fitting.”
his free hand opened his palm, showing you a faux image of smoke and mirrors, a woman and a man.
they looked around before they noticed each other. you could tell what their relationship was by how they ran to each other.
before they could reach each other, he crumpled his fist, nails digging into his glove as his slits narrowed.
“i ate you heart”
—
1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.
*as the author I feel obligated to write this : reader is an alcoholic but they can’t see that they are. due to having friends struggle with this i’m telling you guys straight out. that reader is addicted to alch so that part isn't up to interpretation. it’s very serious and very isolating, please think about your friends and families before you go down this path. voluntarily or involuntarily. addiction isn’t fun or even remotely ‘cool.’ the more serious talks we have about addiction instead of crossing it out as 'something only dirty people do' and start seeing it for the monster it truly is; is the day we will get as a society. although i didn’t struggle with alcohol addiction, i was victim to another kind that plagues me to this day, so please take my advice and make smart choices.
this also extends to self destructive behaviors, like what reader is doing
personally, i think alastor is some kind of ace / demiromantic
out of all the things I was gonna write to come back, I never would've thought it was gonna be a hazbin hotel imagine. let alone an alastor x reader one.
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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]
{☆} characters furina, neuvillette
{☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings none
{☆} word count 1.9k
{☆} previous [ 1 ]
This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.
She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.
But it'd been almost a week since then.
The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.
That counted for something.
Not much, but something!
..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.
There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.
She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.
So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.
Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.
Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.
Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.
She really didn't like it.
There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.
She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.
She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.
That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.
Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.
But he wasn't.
He was out running her nation, instead.
And what was she doing? Nothing!
She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.
Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.
Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.
..She wasn't ready.
What was she supposed to say?
Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?
She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.
For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.
Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.
Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.
It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
"Focalors?"
The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.
She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.
"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"
The silence is deafening.
She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!
"Lady Furina?"
Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.
"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.
Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.
Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.
"Why aren't you killing me?"
The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.
She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.
"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."
The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.
He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.
..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?
How unfair.
"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"
She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.
..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.
She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.
For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.
Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.
For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.
Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.
She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.
She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.
She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.
"Again."
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