Eldritch Cryptid Deer

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$5 for 1000 words (SFW)

“A-Alastor!” Salem cries out, her hands wrapped tightly around the antlers sticking out of the demons head. Her cunt pressed tightly against his lips. His sharp teeth nipping and pulling blood from soft flesh as his tongue darts deep into her.

His long tongue makes its way from her depths to lap at her clit, sucking it into his mouth, eyes staring up at the body before him. Every curve and soft plump spot enticing him to work her harder, to make her flesh jiggle as he takes her, devours her over and over again. Blood, spit, and cum glistens on his lips and her inner thighs as she bucks up into him.

The grip on Alastor’s antlers tightens, a moan vibrating through him and filling her. She writhes beneath him, his claws digging into her ass as he continues to make her his meal.

“Quelle bonne petite biche, so desperate to cum on my face” he mumbles, adding a finger to her hole while his tongue drags itself over every little spot, grinding down into her cunt and coming back up dripping. He raises his head, her body going with as she clings to his antlers.

“Fuck Alastor please-“ she whines, eyes closed and lips parted as she pants out her pleas. He guides her hips down, forcing them to meet his as he pushes into her. The delicious sound of flesh tearing as he hold her steady, forcing every inch up into her too small pussy, stretching her until shes yelping and clawing like a dog at him.

His control snaps when she digs her own nails into the base of the antlers, forcing her up and down like a toy, her screams echoing around the room fall silent as static picks up. Close, so close- he pulls back, leaving just the tip in before slamming her down onto his lap again, his name falling from her lips once more as he empties himself into her.

It’s Alastor bottom week so I’ve decided to finally cave and right some radioapple!

My hands tremble as I pour a glass of whiskey; my body wants her, craves her, like a drug. Nothing I try keeps my mind from wandering back to her. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, shrouds her ears, or the way her brown eyes seem to see through me on the few occasions she’s looked, truly looked. Every touch from her is electrifying, sending waves of gnawing hunger through my body.

Is this what I’ve become? Caving into the needs of flesh that I’ve so easily waved off before. Yet her name, Salem, coats my tongue, works into my mouth as I push it forth from my lips. Not even the whiskey dulls the sensation of her on my tongue. Weeks have passed and I can still taste her as if I have just sunk my teeth into her, nothing tastes as divine as her, nothing measures up to her. I wonder how the rest of her tastes.

My tongue darts across my teeth, sucking on each one as if to pull her taste from them. Nothing lingers like a memory you wish to forget, or not forget. Do I want to forget?

The whiskey hits me again, a soft sting against, now, teeth pierced lips and tongue. Not too much, do not drink too much again. Yet another glass is full and drained within moments. How many have I had? The bottle is empty, no, there’s two empty bottles. I waiver in my attempt to make it across the floor to my bed, foot hitting another bottle that crashes into two more. Five empty bottles, once again I have lost control and it is her fault.

No- no do not say that, you sound like him. The venom in my thoughts runs through my veins, stretches my nails, my antlers hit the wall leaving deep grooves in the repeatedly wounded wall, lights flicker, green devouring the space as I direct my anger at - nothing. There’s nothing to pour it into, to hurt, except myself.

~

The next morning I am even more of a wreck than I was the last time, my head is a whirlwind of drums and thoughts colliding into a toiling storm. I cannot seem to even gather them enough to speak coherently and find that I have missed not only breakfast, but lunch as well. The clock in my room chimes four PM and my claws find the sheets, ripping them apart further.

The night had brought nothing but nightmares; my father spitting at me that I am no better, my mother crying from pain and the guilt of having raised a monster, and Salems cold eyes meeting mine- demanding answers for questions I don’t have. Hatred taints her smile, driving a knife between my ribs, twisting until it drives into my even colder heart. Even now, awake and semi aware, the pain is present.

Creaking reverberates around the room as I stand, eyes flicking to the new gashes on my walls, to the spots of my blood on the floor, moss creeping along wooden floorboards, flower petals drifting over cracks in the rooms structure that mimic the cracks in my life. I have created a sanctuary of painful reminders so that I may endure the agony of my existence over and over.

~

Dinner came with frequent stares and soft whispers, concern on faces of people I don’t need the pity of, except her. Salem refuses to meet my eyes, her lips curving every so slightly at the edges. What goes on behind those eyes? Behind the vacant stare and polite smile. She’s far from stupid, she might even be brilliant if I am reading her right. There’s a coyness, a sense of pride at how she frustrates me, as if she knows just how cruel she is to me.

Lost in thought I almost miss it, the slight flicker of her eyes to mine but I don’t. Our eyes meet for a split second and every thought in my brain has dissipated. Those eyes, oh how they bare into me with such a coldness. I want their warmth, her affection, for her to look at me like she looks at them. Like she did for just a minute in my room.

Nails bite into my thigh beneath the table, placating some of my thoughts of demise. Though, the demise of her or me I am not certain. As if sensing my internal frustration her smile widens, lips curved up in a frightening manner. Sharp and hungry, like she could smell the anger, fear, and unknown on me.

TW- mentions of sex, masturbation

Dinner that night was less than pleasant, it was less than cordial even. Everyone but Charlie seemed displeased that I was present. Scowls painted every face minus the bright and smiling princess. Salem seemed genuinely disheartened, she had been sitting between Husk and Angel, they were the ones that had been laughing earlier, but now they sat silent, miserable even.

“It’s impolite to ignore” my voice is low, not carrying that usual sense of pride. The smile never fails but it’s clearly tight, not a true one. For the first time since being in Hell I find myself attempting to hide my own discomfort. Salem looks at me, genuinely truly looks at me, and a moment of understanding passes between us. Could this be a start? But then she’s gone again, eyes jaded and cast back down to the half eaten plate of food.

I just want, no need, her to talk to me. To do more than share a dance in private with no words shared. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told her to not speak of it, maybe then she would have spoken to me after and we wouldn’t have to do this ridiculous dance.

She said she despises you

Dropping my fork I stand, my chair making an awful screech across the wooden floor. Charlie looks up, startled, worry on her perfect features. Her perfect girlfriend has a deepening scowl, Husk disappearing into his perfect drunken mess, Angel reaching for her, her, perfect her. Again she won’t even look at me, why won’t she look at me?

Exiting quickly I can hear a flurry of movement behind me but I find myself not caring. The shadows swirl, drinking in the color of the lobby and leaving it black and gray, before swallowing me whole. Gone a week and the only person who cares is the damn princess!

I appear in my room, still untouched from my outburst months ago, the petals of the flowers are scattered on the floor and table while the stems lay bare in an empty vase, and it smells unused, uncared for. A dry laugh leaves my lips, turning into a maniacal laugh as I slide down my bedroom door, hands buried in my pristine hair. Tugging and tugging until I pull handfuls of it from my scalp with a horrific sound. The pain soothes my mind a little but not enough, the sense of control I had had is slipping from me, she pulled it out from under me.

There’s a knocking noise, a soft tapping on my door, as if the person asking for entry is not certain they want to be allowed in. I should tell them to leave but instead I cover the small spots of missing hair and wave my hand, my room righting itself, the flowers the only thing left because I cannot bare to see them go yet.

~

She stands behind the door, our eyes never meeting once I’ve opened it. Why had she come? Why bother with me when she had spent almost the first year here ignoring me? And then hating me.

“Alastor” her voice is quiet, and then she’s pushing into my room, closing and locking the door behind her “that look, that tone” her back rests against the door, chest rising and falling quickly, honeysuckle seeping into every pore of my body as she speaks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” liar- why lie? Why not tell her? She already knows, small and troubling but not dumb. Far from dumb.

“Look I know I hate you, and you have some sick want from me, but I have this thing- no matter how much I despise someone if I know they’re struggling I have to make sure they’ll be ok” her voice seems to grow softer, dare I say even warmer, as she speaks “I’ve just…I’ve seen that look”

My eyes stay trained on her, curious but refusing to give away what I truly feel. About her, about myself, about anything that can be used against me.

“We can even pretend, that I never showed up here afterwards but….look you are unfortunately important to the hotel, to Charlie” I note her want to say something else and how she holds it back “so just tell me you will be ok”

“I am perfectly capable of handling my own needs” she glances up as I speak, narrowing her eyes and scoffing.

“Gods you sound like I do, now I understand why it is so fucking infuriating” despite her calm enough demeanor the shadows lap at her feet, seeking to feed off the anger I can tell is brewing beneath her skin. She doesn’t want to be here.

There’s this standoff, a moment of us just watching each other. I step forward, her body tensing but I have to touch her, feel her beneath my fingers. Brushing my claws against her cheek I can sense her urge to run, see how her hand inches towards the locked door handle.

“Please…” I plead with her to let me feel for just a moment, to enjoy touch I hadn’t felt beyond the two times we danced together, and those had felt like dreams. She steadies herself, still ready to sprint from me should she see the need to but she doesn’t move from my hand. I trail from her cheek to her jaw, brush my thumb over her lips, and bring my palm to rest against her throat as her eyes turn to black. There’s the perfect prey I keep seeing.

“What do you want Alastor?” Her voice shakes and I want to taste her. Devour her. Even with a soul owned by another she must taste divine, borderline angelic. I know she can see the hunger scrawled across my face, the way my lips bare my teeth as I bring myself closer, bending at the waist to meet her short form. She trembles beneath me but there’s nowhere to go. She could try to open the door and flee but despite her hand resting on the handle she doesn’t move. Not even as my teeth sink into her shoulder, or as my claws grasp at her side and hip to drag her body further into my mouth. Blood spills down her chest yet she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t scream or try to break away, just leans her head back and accepts what I assume she believes is the end.

“Darling?” She looks startled, her hand moving from the door to the wound I’ve left, coating her fingers. Her eyes seem to fade in and out of focus, thinking, before pushing me away and straightening herself out.

“That was…uncalled for” something unknown laces her voice, a tremble of not fear but excitement beneath even that. She brings her fingers to her mouth, licking them clean, a feeling building that I’ve rarely experienced. A feral need and I usher her from the room, afraid of what I might force from her if I don’t.

“Alastor?” She sounds confused as I slam the door. A soft huff and muttering of curses trails away, indicating her departure.

She talked to me, she let me touch her, bite her, I could even imagine she enjoyed whatever it was that just happened. Licking the blood residue from my teeth I pace the room. Thoughts of her flood my brain. How pretty she would look cut open, begging for me as she lies between my thighs. My name carved into her chest and laid bare for me.

A throbbing I tend to ignore takes hold, a need that I don’t usually satiate begs me to, and I can feel my hands reaching to release myself. Gripping at my cock and squeezing, forcing precum to the tip. It doesn’t take long, my needs having never been met since landing in Hell. The image of her on my bed, begging and touching her own wet cunt is enough to send ribbons of cum all over the floor. Another mess to clean, another thing to be guilty of.

~

I find I cannot look at her, she’s covered my mark well and it’s infuriating. Again she isn’t looking at me, leaving me desperate and appalled at said desperation. Every fiber of my being wants to corner her and take her, destroy her. The images of debauchery won’t leave my mind. Sitting at the dining table? What if I just threw everything to the side and took her while everyone watched? Alone in the hall? I can take her against the wall, make her scream my name.

TW- Slight murder

She stares, eyes never wavering as she meets mine. If anything the more I look the more she seems to strive to appear confident, unphased by my aura. Having rearranged our seating the night before, she sat beside me now.

“You didn’t have to move everyone around for your sick fancy” she mumbles, tearing her eyes from mine to rest them on her dinner, the dinner I had prepared.

“I hope everyone is enjoying the meal, I took quite a bit of time to prepare it” smiles, polite, pleasant smiles that mean nothing, that's all I get from her. My eyes flash with annoyance at the others chorus their thanks, their adoration of my food as all she does is nibble and deny she is hungry. Tension grows thick, even the ever oblivious Charlie takes note of Salem's refusal to acknowledge my sacrifice.

“Ah toots?” Angel's interruption only furthers my annoyance, can he not see that I am trying to get you to see me? She grins at him and I can feel my anger bubbling. How dare she?

“Yes Angel? I just ate a big lunch not too long ago that’s all” she reassures him without waiting for an answer as his eyes dart back and forth between me and her, warning her, or trying to. Yet she stays purposefully obtuse, refusing to even meet my eyes again. I crave to dig my claws into the back of her skull and force her to look, to stare me in my eyes again and thank me for the effort I keep putting in. The work I do for this hotel, for her!

“Alastor?” A chorus of voices say my name in fear, realizing that I’ve lost a bit of control. My shadow has smashed Salem's plate upon the floor, and her eyes never straying from the now empty table seem to only further anger him. Her tongue presses to her cheek, pushing it out as she sighs.

“This is why I don’t want to fucking talk to you” she shoves away from the table and stomps off, my heart faltering, banging at my chest to follow her. I scold my shadow, forcing it to behave once more as it throws its hands in exasperation.

“Apologies, it seems my shadow has developed a bad habit” I attempt to soothe the others before me but they just look between each other, Vaggie even looks mildly triumphant at my outburst. No one spoke, afraid to invoke my rage I am sure. I had done nothing but prove what Salem seemed to believe, what Vaggie believed, Hell maybe what they all believed. Even Charlie deep down must see me as a monster too involved with myself.

“Alastor…you’ve never” Charlie pauses, as if thinking her words over, something I did not see our princess do often “your shadow has never had an issue like that before. Is something wrong?” Vaggie tries to silence her, whispering about how it isn’t their business and to let me dig my own, second grave.

“No dear, just have a lot with the hotel. I am sure you understand that?” She nodded but didn’t seem convinced and looked as if she wanted to press. A hand on her shoulder from Vaggie and a tap from Husk had her falling silent, casting her eyes away from me.

Clenching my jaw I stand, tapping my cane in a silent goodbye as I walk out. My mind is clustered with her; her scent, her movements, her ever watching eyes, and her words ‘this is why I don’t want to fucking talk to you’. It had stung, deeper than it should have, it shouldn’t have touched me at all. Salem isn’t the first to not want to talk to me.

I press my back against the wall outside my room, not wanting to be in the woods or around the dying flowers or unmade bed that I had discarded when I couldn’t settle the night before. Perhaps my radio tower would be a better space for me right now, untouched by these frivolous feelings.

Making my way to the tower I keep pushing my thoughts away, refusing to even give them a smidge of attention. How ridiculous they were, insisting my heart grows warm for her. No, no I simply need her for the growth, for my own freedom. Her rejections meant my inability to win even a simple doe over, was I losing my touch? Was being at this forsaken hotel toying with my powers?

The door of the radio tower falls shut behind me, slamming against its frame with a loud thwump. Everything is so perfect, pristine here that I settle quickly. The scent of the muddy waters fill the room, a soft breeze trickling in, it’s almost like I have my own person bayou beneath my feet without the actual mud.

Then it’s there-

Honeysuckle trickles in again, my hands curling into fists and slamming onto the audio board. Why is this following me? Taunting me? She isn’t even near me! She’s never been here! How can her scent overwhelm me so much in a space that is supposed to be mine?

Knobs get turned, the radio on the desk jolting to life. It’s an early broadcast, and likely a late one as well. Working through the jazz, the blues, and even tossing in some newer music the night ticks on. I have pages of notes scattered before me yet they say nothing of importance. I have failed to focus on my duties, neglected my promises, and wrote her name over and over. Like a mantra, a prayer, I even speak her name into the air of my radio station. Was I always this desperate?

~

The broadcast ended right before breakfast, a delightful squealing of a pig signing me off. I hadn’t planned to get dirty but Salem had stayed on my mind and I needed a release. The poor unfortunate soul walking beneath my safety proved a perfect target.

He had begged like I might change my mind even as I tore into his chest, ripping his beating heart from beneath cracking bones. Every intestine was twirled around my long claws and dropped into my mouth, every bone cracked and licked clean, his skin hung like a flag from my window as I devoured the rest of his insides. The perfect ending to a Hellish broadcast.

~

The looks of some of the residents once I came down the stairs suggested they may have been awoken by my delightful morning murder. Salem never even lifts their head, keeping their nose in a book, hand twisting a pen around as they try to ignore me. How long could they last?

Sitting in the chair beside them, crossing a leg over my knee and resting my cane on their chair, I too pulled forth a book to read. The occasional uncomfortable rustling coming from her, she may cover her feelings well but I know people, sinners, better than any can hide. Eventually I hear a sigh, my eyes flick to her as she shoves the book into her now vacant chair and leaves me sitting alone. Yet again she seems to think she can just walk away. Her hair bobs up and down as she holds her head high to leave me.

~

Lunch and dinner go the same way, she is forced to sit beside me every time, and every time she barely picks at her before walking off to shut herself away. What must I do to get her to follow me, pledge herself to me.

I corner Angel after dinner, desperation that I hate leaking into my words as I all but beg him for some way to get to Salem.

“Quit bein’ creepy” he said rolling his eyes “she ain’t some pet to collar- you know nothing about who you are chasin’ and you might not like findin’ out who she is” his arms crossed over his chest and belly area, nonchalance coats his posture and once again I wonder if I am losing my touch by staying here. He pushes past me before giving one last glance back “Salem is a wild animal Alastor, she might even top that scary aura you got goin’ on” then he’s around the corner of the hall and out of sight. What on earth did he mean? Salem was barely waist height on me, scary? Something to outdo even me? What a funny thought.

Roaming through the hotel I find myself once again at the observatory, watching her from behind glass. Taking in every side step and swirl, the notes that fall from her pretty lips, did she have to wear that? Her mid thigh skirt hikes up as she spins making my throat go dry. It’s quite unpleasant for a woman like her to be dressed in such a manner.

I once again find myself sliding through the shadows into the room she occupies, grabbing her hand and waist and spinning with her. The songs drift in and out as her eyes stay on mine, the want to flee evident but she doesn’t, she clings to me as we dance. Hours tick by and as the night turns to dawn I pull back with a great reluctance. Would she avoid me again tomorrow.

“Please…” I swallow hard “please stop avoiding me” she fidgets with her thin tank top and sighs.

“You’re such a menace, I despise you, hate you. Then you do this, you step in like a proper gentleman instead of the narcissistic twit you are and go making me think your any sort of good” she starts to pace, the sun glinting in her eyes, making them look almost golden, her beauty draws me in and I almost miss what she says next. “You cannot demand my attention, you cannot force me to do anything” static bounces around, fear glistening in her eyes but I simply leave.

Narcissistic twit, a name I had often called my father in my head was now being spat at me. Had I fallen so low? There’s nowhere for me to go; my room is a mess of nightmares, my radio station covered in her scent even after my kill, and if I sit anywhere in the hotel someone will find me, question me.

The shadows drag me down into the dark where I stay, for how long I’ve no idea. I couldn’t bring myself to come out and once I did no one seemed to care that I had been gone. Maybe only a few minutes had passed and that’s why no one knew?

“Alastor!” Charlie bounds up to me as I step into the kitchen, laughter trickles in from the dining room “will you be joining for dinner?” I was gone at least the full day then.

“Why of course darling, why would I not?” She gives me a puzzled glance.

The morning after my little drink escapade was less than uneventful, everyone had some thing or another to do, leaving me alone in the hotel. The night before had been a mistake, it had allowed too many bad memories and nightmares to take hold of my mind and the liquor had hazed my brain too much to fight it. Sleep had never fully enveloped me, I had been hanging on a precipice of dread through the hours, rising when the alcohol had finally wore off to clean up and become pristine again. My smile had never fallen past a tight lipped twist of my lips, and I had no intention of letting it have a chance to slip.

With the hotel empty I pace the lobby, utilizing the lack of other people to really imagine and think of what this place could be. The power I could hold with it under my watch.

Tick, tick, tick- my cane and the clock on the mantel tap in rhythmic harmony as I go back and forth. I already had Charlie where I needed her, Vaggie could prove a problem with her innate distrust of me, Angel would fall in line soon enough since it was clear he was more of a follower than anything. Then there was her, Salem. The meek little doe that tainted my thoughts, that ravaged my mind despite the few words spoken between us, despite my lack of knowing her story, she tore at me. Her absence had driven me down a path I had never wanted, turning to a drink instead of using my brain to find a way to get what I want.

My claws skim over the top of my cane, leaving light indents along the top of it. Her confused, pained face from our last interaction had me itching to comfort her, hold her and tell her I would do everything to sort any issue she may have and I despised it. Why her? It must be physiological, something the body is demanding that the brain isn’t. The touch of her had lingered for a few days, like she had spoken a curse over me to make me feel.

Her scent still lingered in the hotel, a deep smell of honeysuckle, if I close my eyes I can see the gardens. The sprawling roses intertwined with climbing honeysuckle, the bayou lapping at the shore, wind shifting through trees and I crave it.

Unwillingly I find myself traversing the halls, lingering in spots the honeysuckle seems to coat more heavily. Following it back into the observatory we danced in so long ago, the scent strongest here, as if her whole life centered around this room.

My fingers trail along the phonograph, odd that someone so young prefers something so old. Images of her dancing, moving across the floor like a spirit, flits in my mind. I wish to hold her again, to keep her hands in mine as we move through this Hell.

A wave of honeysuckle rolls over me, alerting me that she’s near. They must have come back sooner that I had anticipated, or perhaps I had taken longer than I thought in her space.

Melting into the shadows, I stay, wanting to watch as she comes in with a smile. She speaks to Angel as she begins to play music, a soft gentle opera tune. My heart gathers speed, her voice a shot of adrenaline.

“Ya know toots, smileys gotta have it bad for ya” I will have to do something about that pesky fucking spider.

“Nah he’s so pent up” she waves a hand, dismissing the spider's teasing words as Angel continues to spit out how I have looked for her at every meal and how my eyes linger on her during activities. She looks at him, eyes narrowed and brows brought together.

“Really? Me?” A look of confusion, disgust, then defeat crosses her features before that simple, polite smile returns. Disgust for me? Do I really elicit just such a feeling in her? “Not me Angel…I’m nothing. A nobody. No, he probably just wants to know where everyone is at all times. He’s horribly controlling”

Angel chuckles in response, nodding slightly. Her voice flits through the air as she jokes about how atrocious I am, a demon in its entirety, a truly disgusting being; and it hurts. Pain I have never felt before finds its way into my chest as I leave, seeking the solace of my room. Flowers that had once been a beautiful present, a profession of love and friendship from likely our dear Charlie, now spill rotting leaves onto my table.

Honeysuckle snakes up the trees at the forefront of my still broken memory, the shredded bayou that I find solace and nightmares in. A stinging sensation bites at my eyes and the lump in my throat suggests tears but I’ve not cried since I was a baby. No tears had fallen from my eyes since before even my father lay his hands on me. No, no I will not cry over words.

Of course I’m vile! I’m The Radio Demon! The protector of this hotel, of that ungrateful little doe downstairs. Does she forget that I am more powerful than anyone within these walls? That I am more than her tiny mind can comprehend? And how dare that slut of a spider agree and laugh along? I would have to teach them both a lesson in manners.

But how? Without ticking off Charlie how do I go about showing those two I am not to be trifled with? Bring their nightmares to life? Their bodies racked with fear as the night drags on with my images filling their minds? A laugh bubbles from my chest, the threat of tears gone. What had I even been tempted to cry over!?

I kneel beside the honeysuckle, pulling its roots and all from the dirt. I would not have this scent in my room if she was not attached to it. Flower after flower, I rip the earth to shreds, leaving their fragile orange and yellow petals to sink in the water. What a waste of time spent on her, even if it’s time I had to spare I could, and should, have done something else. Not following her scent like a love sick dog.

More flowers are torn from the ground, no longer just the honeysuckle but the roses, the violets, even the ferns meet a demise at my hands. I can have nothing delicate, nothing beautiful lest I hurt it, destroy it. Even when I only touch once, things rot from the inside. Falling to dust like they’ve aged out of existence in seconds.

If only I could do it to myself.

I brush the thought, fighting the dread, the uncomfortable feeling of being not enough yet again. Why do I want to be enough for her? She’s just a patron, a misguided being seeking a soul she can never have back from someone she doesn’t even know! What a naive little doe.

That must be it, yes. I only wish for her to be my prey, to put her life in my hands and trust me with every crevice of her being. To be in control of her. Charlie is already under my thumb, and in turn Vaggie. I need her brightness, her shining beacon of light, so I can lure in more like her.

To feed on that soft, unmarred flesh would be a meal for royalty. My claws bite into my own hand, blood slipping between my fingers, dripping to the floor. I need time or I may just rip that little thing to shreds when I see her again.