Artemis

***

You awake with a start.

The first thing you notice is the pain. While not as intense as before, you can still feel the aching pulse in your thigh with every minuscule movement. You lift the sheet and breathe a sigh of relief when you see your leg is still there, wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. You reach out to touch it, wincing at even the slightest pressure. Releasing the sheet, you sink your aching head back into the pillow of what you realize is a guest room at the hotel.

The smell of disinfectants is almost suffocating, stinging your already heavy-lidded eyes as you look around. The room is dark, save for the segments of light cutting across the crimson carpet from the window. You notice the collection of pill bottles scattered on the nightstand beside you, the IV bag hooked into your arm to the right of it. Red wallpaper, delicately laced with apple-shaped gold detail covers the walls. Pillows are strewn across the floor, pools of blood surround and paint over them.

Everything is quiet. Dead quiet.

Your thoughts spin furiously as you attempt to recount the events that transpired. You feel your eyebrows furrow when you start with the closest memory. You remember Alastor displaying affection in a way you had never seen before. A way you never thought he was capable of.

Did you dream that? No, you distinctly remember the warmth of his forehead on yours and the feeling of his breath across your face. Your heart flip flops at the memory, and your cheeks burn, forcing a smile across your face. The movement of those muscles draws your attention to the ache around your throat. You wince instinctively and delicately brush your fingertips across the skin of your neck when you feel the raised hand-shaped mark.

Your stomach drops. The memory of their cause becomes clear as day.

You remember the look in Adam’s eye — the hungry, maniacal look of entitlement as his gaze swallowed you whole, moments before he planned to claim your body as his toy.

Your chest constricts, tears covering your eyes in a warm haze — the soul-crushing realization of what could have transpired sinking in. You almost lost everything. When the first tear escapes, the air around you suddenly goes ice cold. Thick blankets of shadow laced with the familiar emerald electrical storm ascend through the floor and take the shape of the Radio Demon.

The look of pure devastation soaked in Alastor’s eyes contrasts with his permanent, sinister smile. His eyebrows knit together, desolation soaks through the ruby-red glow of his eyes. Despite this, he doesn’t move. His body language suggests his urge to step forward, but he remains motionless.

You can’t stop the guttural sobs that follow when you’re enveloped in his presence. You’re reminded of the safety you felt cradled in his arms when your world nearly collapsed around you.

“I.. I thought,” You whimper through stuttered gasps, “he almost-”

Every sob that escapes your aching throat burns as if the grip that previously held it firm never released its hold. That was enough for Alastor to move, the shadows morphing into a trail leading to the spot beside you. He’s on his side, one hand supporting his head while the other awkwardly reaches out, his clawed fingers combing through your tangled hair as you crumble beneath his touch.

“I wanted to wrench his soul from his body with my bare hands,” begins the demon, disdain saturating his radio-filtered voice, “Nothing would have brought me more joy than to broadcast his terrified screams to all of Pentagram city for the appalling behaviour that disrespectful wretch displayed towards you, my doe.” Darkness invades his gaze, a terrifying murderous expression haunting his face.

“Why did you-” you begin hacking, the dryness of your throat preventing you from finishing your question. Searing pain fires through every nerve as your body convulses. Alastor’s demeanor snaps back to normal, concern taking over his features. He raises his hand, materializing a glass of water, and hands it to you. The coolness coats your throat as you furiously chug the liquid allowing you to steady your breathing. “Why did you come for me?” you finally manage to get out, turning your head towards Alastor. Your noses nearly touch and the familiar feeling of his breath skirts across your face.

“Well darling, you were in trouble.”

“A lot of people were in trouble. I could hear the screams from the roof of the hotel.”

He ponders that for a moment, his eyes narrowing while he chews over his words.

“The thought of losing you was one I couldn’t fathom.” Alastor finally spits out reluctantly, his eyes shifting away from yours, “and unfortunately I didn’t realize that until the moment you were almost taken from me.”

Silence follows as you watch him sink deep into his thoughts. The glow of his eyes dim, the saturation draining from them. You carefully reach out, ignoring the stinging caused by every movement you make. He recoils slightly, and you pause, carefully inspecting his body language before you push forward. You run your fingers through his crimson hair, gently brushing it away from his face, and his eyes find yours again.

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, pushing your forehead against his.

You feel his claws wrap around the back of your head, clutching a fistful of hair as he pulls you into an embrace. His teeth gently graze against your neck and the smell of pine invades your senses as he holds you against him. A breath escapes your lips against his ear, your body suddenly craving him, and you suck your lip between your teeth.

“Careful darling,” Alastor whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending a flurry of goosebumps across your neck, “you may be alive, but you have quite the road to recovery ahead of you.”

He pulls away and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, his sinful gaze lapping you up as you melt beneath his touch. Disregarding his warning you push your face forward, hopeful to get a taste of him, but the motion causes a painful reminder of the trauma to fire through your broken body. You cry out, tears misting your eyes.

He chuckles at your attempt, “Tasty.”

You scowl at his remark and collapse into your pillow groaning.

“I best be off, you need to rest, my doe. Don’t hesitate to summon me if you need anything.” he taps your nose before melting into his shadow form. “I’ll be remembering that promise of yours. You best keep it.”

Something has changed with him, and you find yourself overwhelmed with intrigue as he disappears through the floor of the room. His last words echo through your head:

“I’ll be remembering that promise of yours. You best keep it”

It wasn’t a request.

---

Gosh I love writing Alastor, and your prompts have been fueling me so thank you! Let me know what you think of this continuation 👀

Writing has been a bit more sporadic with real life stuff going on! I'm working through the requests as we speak 💖

--

Dom!Alastor will bind you to the bed, his shadow tendrils like icy shackles against your wrists, ankles, and throat. The radio demon will circle you, a wicked smile on his face as he looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, watching you struggle helplessly and begging to be let go. His wicked laugh overshadows your gasp when you come close to freedom only for them to pull you back down again.

Dom!Alastor has no hesitation when it comes to sinking his teeth into your inner thighs. The sound of your scream when he draws blood triggers a primal growl to escape from his throat. He likes to hold your gaze while his tongue licks the blood off your skin, edging closer to your exposed heat, and stopping just shy of it.

Dom!Alastor takes safe word usage very seriously but It's a game to him. The demon will push you right to your limit, teetering on the line. He loves to see you squirm, whimpering and on the brink of breaking beneath him.

Dom!Alastor likes to use his claws to gently trace along your clit, basking in the noises you make when he applies just enough pressure that you're writhing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Dom!Alastor will wait until you're breathlessly pleading, your chest heaving with such desire that you can't take it anymore -- and he'll wait just a bit longer. Your pathetic whimpers and bargaining remind him of someone begging for their life, and nothing ignites his desire more than that.

Dom!Alastor uses his shadowy tendrils to pin your neck down, forcing you to lock eyes with him when he climbs on top of you. He's consumed by the ecstasy painted across your face when his cock pushes through your folds. His maniacal chuckle rings through your ears as your vision blackens. He loves the expression you make when you're robbed of oxygen, overwhelmed by his monstrous length stretching you out, inch by inch.

Dom!Alastor only allows you a moment to gasp for breath when he loosens the hold around your neck before he starts fucking you relentlessly, feeding into your desperation.

Dom!Alastor wants to hear you say who you belong to, over and over again. He grows more feral with each "I belong to you, Alastor" as you fall further and further into subspace. His eyes blacken, the horns on his head jut out violently, and his radio-filtered snarls echo off the walls of the room.

Dom!Alastor gets enthralled by the way you submit further for him. He'll use the shadow to flip you over so he can take you from behind - his favourite position. He wants to fuck you like the animal you are.

Dom!Alastor loves the way you cry out when he sinks one set of his claws into your waist, intentionally carving through the skin. He'll use his other hand to pin your head to the pillow, hair ripping from your scalp as he hungrily bucks his hips against your ass.

Dom!Alastor will grab your wrist when he catches you massaging your clit, chasing your own release. "Ah ah ah," he barks, "you'll cum when I tell you to."

Dom!Alastor gets driven wild by the way you beg, plead, and bargain for your release when you're right on the cusp. His thrusts become more aggressive as he feeds off of your desperation.

Dom!Alastor will pull you up by your hair to hold you against him. He wants to see your face when he whispers "cum, my doe."

Dom!Alastor growls violently as he feels the walls of your pussy clutch his cock when the orgasm rips through you. It pushes him over the edge, his seed spilling inside of you. He loves the idea of filling you up and marking you as his own - physically laying claim to his possession.

Dom!Alastor doesn't take long to shift into aftercare mode when he notices you trembling. When the tendrils release their hold, he'll pick you up and pull you under the covers, cradling you against him.

Dom!Alastor will summon a gramophone, playing soft jazz that echoes through the vastness of the room as he runs his fingers through your hair. You sit like that for a few minutes while you bask in post-orgasm haze together.

Dom!Alastor confirms your boundaries; he ensures that, despite everything, you feel safe. It doesn't matter to him how long he's known you - he'll check in with you again and again. He'll listen to your words, your feedback, all while cradling your face as you look up at him.

Dom!Alastor Cleans and bandages your lacerations, apologizing when you flinch from the acrid bite of the antiseptic. He's captivated and almost giddy by the way you let him leave his mark on you. He'll whisper to you- only you - about how beautiful your body, your flesh, and all of you looks, as he gingerly runs his claws against your skin.

Dom!Alastor materializes your favourite pyjamas and puts them on for you, careful not to disturb any of the still-raw injuries he's decorated your body with.

Dom!Alastor drifts his claws through your hair, your head on his chest. "Good girl," he whispers, his mellifluous voice coating your ears like the sweetest honey as you surrender to sleep.

--

You swallow down the lump in your throat and point towards your screen, showcasing the information that you pulled the data from. You knew she would ask about this.

“Well Ms. Velvette,” your voice is shaky despite your attempt to mask it, “I triple-checked the data but every result comes back to this. I can try to run it again?”

The overlord moves closer to squint at your screen, the rich navy and magenta curls of her pigtails brushing against the desk. She scoffs, standing upright, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Don’ fuckin’ bother. Un-fuckin’-believable,” she clips, massaging the spot where her fingers rest, “Go see Vox. He updated the software to change the algorithm. Get the old one back. If the cretins of hell aren’t glued to their phones, then what’s the fuckin’ point.”

You’re frozen in place, slightly taken back by Velvette asking you to see Vox — generally, she handles communication with him.

“Well?” She waves her hand emphatically, motioning at the elevator, “Get on with it then.”

“Yes, Ms. Velvette,” you nod, launching from your chair, and half-jogging toward the elevator. You nearly roll an ankle on your way and you quietly cuss about Velvette’s dress code. You jam the elevator button with such pent-up ferocity that the paper cut stings beneath the band-aid.

The elevator dings, signaling its arrival and you slip inside before the doors fully open, tapping the button to the penthouse suite. Your hands cross comfortably in front of you. 

As the elevator climbs, you become hyper-aware of the sweat pooling in your palms. You've seen Vox’s face daily since starting with Velvette - he runs the whole VVV empire — but never in person. His malicious smile, with teeth like sharpened glass, can be found on the walls, doors, and even on the elevator screen.

“Vox. Trust us.” Vox’s euphonious voice echoes through the speaker of the metal box. A chuckle escapes your chest at the prospect of trusting any of them. You know full well what these overlords are like, and wouldn't trust them to as far as you could throw them.

Your heart is nearly in your throat when you reach the top floor, the arrival bell reverberating through your spine as the doors open. Your feet feel cemented to the floor as you trudge through the cold, dimly lit hallway, but the ethereal blue glow from Vox’s office pulls you forward.

The circular, metal doors whoosh open as you approach and you're in awe of the massive, spherical room it reveals. Your heels clack against the floor, the sound echoing off the curved walls as you traverse the lit-up walkway that cuts through the center. 

As you approach the middle of the room, you're greeted by a curved wall of screens, radiating light with such intensity that you squint. Each TV, in a range of different sizes, broadcasts something different. Movies, news, porn, social media — nearly every video format you can think of had a dedicated screen. 

Your eyes trail downward, landing on the back of a slightly reclined chair at the center of it all. The mint-coloured tip of Vox’s boots can be seen next to each other, his legs crossed at the heel on top of the control panel below the TVs. 

“Ms. Velvette sent me up to ask about changing the algorithm. Engagement has been down and uh,” your heart is in overdrive, thrumming through your chest like a jackhammer as you intentionally walk through each word to avoid stammering, “she asked me to come to see you about changing it back.” 

“Uh huh,” mumbles the demon. You catch a glimpse of his hand furiously typing away on his phone as you speak, barely acknowledging your existence. 

Is he fucking kidding?

You’re sickened by the fact that you spend most of your days putting up with Velvette’s bullshit, only to be ignored by another smug asshole in this place. Rage bubbles in your chest, you take a deep breath and look around the office, hopeful for some semblance of common ground. Your eyes land on a massive dartboard with pictures strewn across it, and you realize you recognize one of them. 

“Oh, I used to listen to his broadcasts all the time. That’s Alastor, right?” you barely notice the flicker of the screens when the Radio Demon’s name leaves your mouth, “I love his voice.”

A snap pulls your gaze back towards the chair, which is now in an upright position. Vox’s feet are planted on the floor and his claws slice into the armrests of his chair. His head tilts towards you, his blood-red eyes pointed furiously in your direction. The glow of his turquoise sharpened teeth contrasts with the drips of crimson saliva bleeding from his mouth. 

You realize you must have hit a nerve with Alastor's name.

“What did you say?” Vox’s voice booms through the speakers of the office, vibrating through every bone in your body. 

You're annoyed by his reaction more than you are scared. The paper cut burns under the bandaid, reminding you of the constant shit you put up with in this fucking place — now you can't enjoy other mediums?

“I'm sorry, can I not like things that aren't Vox-related?” Your eyebrows furrow and your head tilts, “Who gives a shit if I listened to the fucking radio however many years ago.”

“You're playing a dangerous game.” Vox spits venomously, his voice distorted in a way you've never heard before. The chair spins and he launches himself to a standing position. His body stiffens, the shoulders of his navy and turquoise striped blazer nearly coming to his ears. 

Vox’s footsteps echo through the giant room as he walks towards you with a nefarious intent. The hungry look in his eye twists your stomach into knots. Primal fear overtakes the rage you felt moments ago, clouding your senses. You take a step back.

“Fuck this, I quit.” you sputter out. On the last syllable, Vox’s left eye swirls into a cacophony of blue and red circles. You're entranced, as if you're caught in the deathly whirlpool of his gaze, unable to escape. A faint buzz fires through your limbs, locking you in place.

“Do ya now?” Vox cackles, coming toe to toe with you. The overlord’s aquamarine index claw curls under your chin, digging into your skin as he forces you to meet his gaze. 

Vox's grin fires warning flares through your mind as his eyes take you in, swallowing you whole. Electricity zaps around the screen of his face. A baleful laugh erupts through his chest as he turns on his heel to walk back towards his chair.

“Follow me.” He demands. You don't have the opportunity to decline. Your body moves on it's own, following in the footsteps of the demented demon in front of you. He casually sits in his chair, legs apart.

“Sit.” Vox’s clawed finger points at his lap. You fight against your body with every move it makes but to no avail — you're now straddling the demon, powerless. His shit-eating grin devours you.  

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” you force out behind gritted teeth, “let me go you fucking asshole”

“oh ho ho,“ he gleams, cocking an eyebrow, “this one is spicy. I like it when they're spicy.”

You feel his claws dig into your scalp as he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your face towards his. His teeth part, revealing his long, cyan tongue inching towards your neck. The tip of it grazes against your throat, and you grimace at the wetness of his saliva coating your skin.

You want to squirm but you can't.

“Go ahead and squirm.” He urges as if reading your mind. He leans back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head, “Show me how scared you are.”

Your body involuntarily wriggles, bringing your full attention to Vox’s hard, thick length pressing against the thin fabric of your underwear. You curse Velvette’s dress code once again. 

You're disgusted by the amusement in his expression, his hot breath blowing across your face as he reacts to your struggle. Fear crawls up the back of your neck, terrified of where this is headed.

“Please let me go.” you whimper, still squirming on top of him.

“I'll let you go when you really know who's in charge here. Radio is dead. Video is the future. And this,” Vox points towards his crotch, “is your future. Get on your knees.”

Your body carries you against your will to the floor in front of the demon. Goosebumps crawl up your shins as they make contact with the ground below you.

A vile laugh bursts from the demon, “I'm so fuckin hard right now. Taste me, bitch.” 

Reluctance floods your body, but you're unable to fight the movement of your hands as you unbutton and unzip him. The overlord's cyan cock springs free and you nearly choke on your tongue at the length and girth of it. You barely have time to process before your entrapped body forces you forward, his erection throbbing below your tongue as it runs across it.

Your lips wrap around the tip and Vox snarls in pleasure. The demon reaches out with both hands, clutching fistfuls of your hair. Strands rip free from your scalp as they wrap around his claws. He pulls your mouth down on him, forcefully closing the gap between the tip of his cock and the back of your throat.

“Mmm, good girl,” moans the demon, bucking his hips while he holds you there, cutting off any ability to pull air into your lungs. Your jaw aches. Your vision blurs. For a moment, you question if this is how you die.

Vox finally releases you and you launch backward, collapsing on the floor with a sickening thud. Your lungs heave, desperately trying to pull in oxygen as you stutter and gasp.

“You're not done yet,” he cackles, “now it's time for the real show. It's time you remember who owns you. Fuck me, now.”

Your stomach sinks at the prospect but you unwillingly climb to your feet. Distress fires through your brain like fireworks, and you plant your feet with such force that you wonder if they'll break through the ground below you. 

It's no use.

You're pulled towards the demon, your body hanging on his every demand. 

“Please no,” you plead, knowing full well the damage Vox’s monstrous cock will do to you, but that only sets his blood-coloured eyes ablaze. Your reluctance fuels him.

You straddle the overlord again, but this time you're pulling the fabric of your underwear to the side. Your body lowers itself towards Vox’s length, throbbing in anticipation of your pussy wrapping around him. His face glows a radiant blue when the bulbous head finds your slit. His maniacal expression sends waves of trepidation cascading through your chest.

“Sit.”

You do as you're told, slowly lowering yourself. He's not even halfway in when a sharp inhale dances across your tongue, your insides already stretching past the point of comfort. 

“Please, it won't fit.” you beg, your breaths becoming more urgent with each inch that slides through your folds.

Vox looks up at you, a vile grin splayed across his face. He wraps his claws around your waist, the tips of his nails breaking through the skin of your back, and forces himself all the way inside of you. You scream as you feel him bottom out.

He doesn't give you a moment to breathe.

Using the grip of your waist as leverage, Vox thrusts violently, hammering into you with such ferocity that your hands fire out, clutching the breast of his jacket for support. 

Your lips part and a moan escapes. You're unsure if it's genuine or part of the entrapment he has you in, but the cock of Vox's eyebrow answers that for you. He slides one hand to the middle of your back, pulling you into him, and you find yourself rocking your hips in tandem with his.

“Who do you belong to?” barks the overlord.

“I belong to Vox.” you moan.

“And who's better than that trash radio demon?”

“You are, Vox.” 

A distorted growl rumbles from Vox’s chest in reaction to your words. He bares his teeth, clamping down on your shoulder. You scream as warm streams of crimson roll down your tricep, splashing onto the arm rests of the chair.

You're unable to deny the fire building in your throbbing clit as the overlord’s thrusts increase in speed, signaling that he's close to his peak. You meet his rhythm, chasing your own climax as your moans and his snarls echo around you, the heat of your breath fogging up the glowing screens. 

He wraps both arms around you and growls, pulling you downward as he explodes inside of you. Your toes curl as shockwaves of pleasure fire through every nerve ending. Your orgasm pulses through your fingers and toes as you revel in how the demon fills you. His seed gushes out of you, dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Get out.” Demands Vox, causing you to involuntarily stand and adjust your skirt. Euphoria continues to plague your thoughts and you're too lost in the haze to be bothered by any of his bullshit anymore.

You limp towards the exit, clutching the seeping wound on your shoulder when he calls after you, “Tell Velvette I'll update the algorithm.”

“Yes, Vox.” You mutter under your breath.

“And I'll see you next week.” his cackles echo through your skull as the metal doors slide closed behind you.

--

Hello super anonymous reader 👀 I hope you enjoyed your time with Vox, along with everyone else who dove into this one. "Fun" was definitely an understatement.

I wasn't expecting to enjoy writing Vox this much?? Do *I* wanna frick Vox??

Idk, I'm gonna go take a cold shower

Ongoing

From One Hell to Another

[Link to full fic ^🔥]

Chapter 1 sneak peek

Chapter 2 sneak peek

Chapter 3 sneak peek

Chapter 4 sneak peek

Chapter 5 sneak peek

Chapter 6 WIP sneak peek

One Shots/Ask Prompts

The Importance of Aftercare [Alastor x Reader x Lucifer] NSFW

Vox & the Dangerous Game [Vox x Reader] NSFW

Dom!Alastor [Alastor x Reader] NSFW

Your Unlikely Hero [Alastor x Reader x Adam] Fluff

Your Unlikely Hero (Bonus Chapter!) Fluff

A Night on the Town [Platonic Rosie & Alastor] Platonic Fluff

Don't hesitate to reach out with prompt ideas! I am literally frothing at the mouth over the damn show so any way to expel this brainrot is greatly appreciated 🙏 Thank you all for your support 💖

You desperately attempt scramble to your feet, only to feel your leg give out, pain shooting through every nerve ending like dynamite. You're immobilized. You have no way out of this.

“Fuck,” you shriek, shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, fear ripping through you deeper than the wound. He glides towards you effortlessly with malevolent purpose.

“You know,” he laughs, grabbing a fistful of you hair to pull you to eye level, your scalp screaming as individual strands breaking free, “I've always been curious to know what you hell-bent degenerates feel like around my cock.”

You screech, the pain in your leg becoming far less urgent as you kick violently to escape his grasp. The warmth of your tears cut through your dirt-covered cheeks when he smashes his lips against yours. You swallow back the acid building in your throat, nauseous from the unwanted advance.

He rips you backwards, his gaze locking onto yours. You tremble when you observe vile smirk on his face, “How do you like the taste of humanity, bitch?”

“Please stop,” you beg, hopeful for a shred of compassion.

He throws you to the ground and you feel the back of your head connect against the cement with a sickening thud. Everything spins. The crimson sky above you full of screams as the exorcists launch a full scale attack on everyone you've ever loved. Everything closes in around you as Adam stands over you, ready to have his way.

“Adam!” Chimes a radio filtered voice from behind him, “I know you have a penchent for being a nuisance but unfortunately y̴͕̋o̸̫͛u̵̙̚'̷͈̇v̵̪̇ë̶̹́ ̷̻̊f̶͊ͅǘ̴͎c̷̻͆k̸͉̀ẹ̷͐ḑ̴̐ ̶̨̆w̵̠̒ỉ̴̺t̵̹͛h̴͐͜ ̷̜͗t̵͉̾h̴̛̖e̸͓̕ ̵̗̚w̴͚͒r̵̭̅õ̷̡ń̴̦g̵̭̾ ̵̘͂p̴̪͠e̷̲̊r̸͖͗s̵̤̎o̴͖͐n̷̦̿.̶̱̈”

You peak around the angel and see Alastor standing there, his blood red eyes glowing with a rage you had never seen before. Both of his hands are overlapped casually on his cane in front of him — though his stance and expression are anything but casual. His smile holds firm but fury bleeds from his gaze like the saliva dripping down his chin. The furious demon's squared shoulders raise with every irritate breath as he stares down the first man with murderous intent.

A wave of relief flushes through your chest at the sight of him, tears line your eyes but the state of shock you're in prevents them from going further.

“Not yet I haven't.” Adam cackles, standing his ground over his prey.

“Ha ha ha, cute” guffaws the Radio Demon, tilting his head. He slams the bottom of his cane against the cement. Swirls of shadowy demons and tendrils explode violently from the ground, spawning all around him. His eyes narrow, daring the angel to make a move.

Adam turns toward you and his hand shoots down towards your throat. You choke out a stutter as he drags you up in the air by your jugular. Wind whips the hair free from your tear soaked face as you hang 20 feet over the roof of the hotel.

“You want your bitch? Come and get her, you fucking pussy.” Adam beckons as you fight for breath, his nails digging into your skin when his hand tightens. You claw desperately at his grasp, fighting to stay conscious as a dark vignette clouds your vision.

“Gladly.” Alastor promises, “though that's an appalling way to talk about a lady.”

Sharp peaks of shadow laced with an electric storm of green fire from Alastor’s position, slamming into Adam, breaking you free from his grasp. You stutter and gasp, your lungs awarded with the sweet taste of oxygen as your airways shoot open — but the relief is short lived when your body begins free falling.

You close your eyes, ready to accept your fate as you plummet towards the scene below you.

To your surprise it wasn't the cement that broke your fall, but instead something much softer. When you open your eyes you find Alastor's face looking down at you, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. You're enveloped by the feeling of security as he holds you tight against his body.

“It appears as though I'm not the only falling, darling,” coos the demon, pressing his forehead against yours, “I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner.”

You're taken back by the sincere show of emotions from him, “and here I thought you only tolerated me,” you jest, your voice raspy as you continue to fight to catch your breath.

“Heavens, no.” He pulls his head away, reflecting for a moment, “Though I’ll admit, the threat of losing made it clear how much I need you. Let's keep this between us, shall we?” he pauses, “at least for now.”

A smirk forms on your face and you nod in approval. He presses his head to yours once more before setting you down against the wall.

He turns his back to you, facing Adam, who has recovered from the attack, and is menacingly standing a top the broken sign of the hotel.

“Adam — first man, next to die!”

Part 2 now available!

--

I was HELLA excited to see this prompt in my asks so THANK YOU 👏👏

More like this plz.

--

Alastor has you bound to the bed, his shadow tendrils like icy shackles against your wrists, ankles, and throat. The radio demon circles you, a wicked smile on his face as he looks down at you with amusement dancing across his eyes. He loves to watch you struggle. Every beg and plead for him to release you fuels him. You come close to your freedom, only for him to pull you back down again, his cackle reverberating off the walls.

The demon crawls between your legs, and his teeth slice into your inner thighs without a single hesitation. He draws blood, your scream triggering a primal growl to escape from his throat. Alastor takes safe word usage seriously, but it's a game to him. He pushes you right to your limit, teetering on the line. He loves to see you squirming from the pleasure and whimpering from the pain.

He loves to see you on the brink of breaking beneath him.

He holds your pained gaze as his tongue grazes across your skin, lapping up the blood as he edges closer to your exposed heat. He stops just shy of it. His claws gently trace along your clit, and he basks in the noises you make when he applies just enough pressure that you're writhing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

You're breathlessly pleading, your chest heaving with such desire that you can't take it anymore.

He waits a bit longer.

Your pathetic whimpers and bargaining remind him of the countless souls who have begged him for their lives. Nothing ignites his desire more than that.

Alastor climbs on top of you, his shadowy tendrils pinning your neck and forcing you to lock eyes with him. He's consumed by the ecstasy painted across your face when his cock pushes through your folds. His maniacal chuckle rings through your ears as your vision blackens. He loves the way your face twists when you're robbed of oxygen, overwhelmed by his monstrous length stretching you out, inch by inch.

The deathly hold loosens the hold around your neck, but you’re only given a moment to gasp in a breath before he starts fucking you relentlessly, finally feeding into your desperation.

Alastor wants to hear who you belong to, over and over again. He grows more feral with each "I belong to you, Alastor" as you fall further and further into subspace. His eyes blacken, the horns on his head jut out violently, and his radio-filtered snarls echo off the walls of the room.

The demon is enthralled by the way you submit further for him.

He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty and desperate.

You want more.

You crave more.

You *need* more.

As if reading your thoughts, Alastor lifts you up with his shadow, flipping you over to take you from behind - his favourite position.

He wants to fuck you like the animal you are.

Alastor sinks one set of his claws into your waist, intentionally carving through the skin. A growl rumbles in his chest when he hears you cry out. His other hand reaches up to pin your head to the pillow, and you feel the hair ripping from your scalp as he hungrily bucks his hips against your ass.

Your hand slides between your legs to massage your throbbing clit. Alastor’s claws retract from your waist to clasp your your wrist preventing you from chasing your own release.

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, static crackling through his voice like a raging fire, "you'll cum when I tell you to.”

Alastor is driven wild by the way you beg, plead, and bargain for your release when you're right on the cusp. His thrusts become more aggressive as he feeds off of your desperation.

The demon pulls you up by your hair to hold you against him. He wants to see your face when he allows you your climax.

The smell of fir assaults your senses as he his lips press against your ear, "Cum, my doe.”

The walls of your pussy clutch Alastor’s cock when the orgasm rips through you. A violent growl rips through him as itIt pushes him over the edge, his seed spilling inside of you.

He loves the idea of filling you up and marking you as his own - physically laying claim to his possession.

Alastor doesn't take long to shift into aftercare mode when he notices you trembling. The tendrils release their hold, and he picks you up, pulling you under the covers with him to cradle you against his body.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor summons a gramophone, playing soft jazz that echoes through the vastness of the room as he runs his fingers through your hair. You sit like that for a few minutes while you bask in post-orgasm haze together.

Alastor confirms your boundaries; he ensures that, despite everything, you feel safe. It doesn't matter to him how long he's known you - he'll check in with you again and again. He'll listen to your words, your feedback, all while cradling your face as you look up at him.

He continues to listen while he cleans and bandages your lacerations, apologizing when you flinch from the acrid bite of the antiseptic. He'll whisper to you- only you - about how beautiful your body, your flesh, and all of you looks, as he gingerly runs his claws against your skin. He's captivated and almost giddy by the way you let him leave his mark on you.

Materializing your favourite pajamas, Alastor puts them on for you, careful not to disturb any of the still-raw injuries he's decorated your body with.

You place your head on his chest, and he runs his clawed fingers up and down your back.

"Good girl," he whispers, his mellifluous voice coating your ears like the sweetest honey as you surrender to sleep.

--

✨ Masterlist ✨

If you want to read about some Lucifer aftercare check out the original fic

The Importance of Aftercare

If you're looking for something fluffier, check out my multi-chapter Alastor x Reader fic