Mesca's den

As the clock creeps closer to sunset, your stomach lets out a small growl, letting you know that it was time to get some food. If you didn't, Seto wouldn't eat until tomorrow, he had a nasty habit of working until the early hours and then going straight to sleep once he arrived home, having not eaten anything since you had forced given him something.

Shuffling into an upright position, you stretch your arms before getting up, "I'm gonna get some food, anything you want?"

The brunet just lets out some sort of mix between a huff and a hum of acknowledgement. He'd learnt that grumbling 'I'm not hungry' isn't an acceptable response if he hasn't eaten since he woke up at the ass-crack of dawn and made a measly bowl of porridge. You didn't understand how he could function most days. Maybe the conspiracy that he was a robot CEO wasn't too far-fetched.

Assembling your bag, coat and phone, you say a quick goodbye and leave the Kaiba Corp office. Almost all of the employees had already left, save for a few that regularly worked until dark (although they couldn't hold a candle to the big boss). You had become quite friendly with most of the employees you saw often, enjoying their normality while Seto holed himself away in his office.

You decide to walk to a nearby takeaway, texting to ask if he wanted anything specific. He wouldn't respond, his phone was always on silent, with the exception of notifications from you and Mokuba, and when he was working you were also muted.

The trip was quick, getting there and back within half an hour, although in that time the sun had dropped considerably lower in the sky and the building seemed to be almost empty on your return.

"I got food," you enter the office unannounced, quickly putting your bags down to take off your shoes before walking over to the sofa and beginning to lay things out of the glass coffee table, "can you take a break and eat with me?"

"No," comes his mumbled reply, gaze not even meeting yours for a moment before the tip-tapping of his keyboard is the only sound in the room again.

You recognise his furrowed brows and ever-so-slight frown as an expression that means something has happened or someone's fucked up.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't reply, doesn't spare you a glance, so you get up once again and shuffle over to his desk, peering over his shoulder at his screen. Normally you don't concern yourself with his work - he likes to keep it separate from your relationship and you feel no need to be constantly updated on what's happening - but sometimes you like to be kept in the loop with what's stressing your boyfriend out.

On his screen there's about 20 tabs, the current one open being an email. The email's from Mokuba, his title in bold at the bottom. You quickly skim through it, seeing something about a deal 'falling through', someone 'refusing to go lower' and a frowny face tagged on the end.

You aren't completely sure what it means, but for Mokuba to have emailed instead of leaving an obnoxious text with countless emojis (used to get under his older brothers skin for lack of professionalism) you can tell it's serious.

"Why don't you take a break and eat? You can't be getting anywhere just glaring at your emails," you propose, placing a hand on his shoulder. He feels tense and stiff from sitting at a desk for the majority of the day, a chiropractor would probably have a field day if they ever saw him.

"Are you done being noisy?" he retorted, taking the moment of distraction to close his eyes for a minute.

This time it's you that doesn't offer a response, padding back to the sofa and beginning to eat in silence. The atmosphere is thick and you can't help but feel slightly awkward.

When you finish eating you check the time on your phone, frowning at how quickly the sun had been replaced with the moon. The slight clatter from you setting your dish onto the coffee table causes Seto to meet your gaze,

"Please leave, you're distracting me."

You collect your things and go home without another word, Seto still hunched over his desk, feeling slightly soured by the whole interaction. You knew that he could get short when he was stressed. You knew that he didn't mean to be a grouch.

Once you're home you drop your bags next to the door with your shoes, hanging up your coat and mumbling a string of complaints to yourself. It's best to just go to bed, you decide.

Seto feels a nagging guilt in his chest the moment you leave, but he shakes his head and continues his work, writing a swift response to Mokuba's email about potential next steps.

Thirty minutes pass and he's spent the entire time staring at the clock in the corner of his screen. Would it be obvious that he missed your company if he left the office to go home now?

He shuts his eyes and lets his head tip back, feeling the strain in his neck as he does so. He should've just eaten with you, he mentally chastises himself, you weren't even bothering him. Another five minutes pass before he opens his eyes again and decides that he's getting nothing done now so he might as well go home. To you.

The house is silent when he arrives, only one lamp is on in the hall to signify 'I'm in bed but I knew you'd be getting home so I left a light on'. He notices the plastic bag of food and picks it up, peering inside to see what you had bought. The pair of you had eaten at that takeout before, so he's not surprised to see you had mostly gotten his favourite things.

He would eat it with you for lunch tomorrow, even if he didn't have the space - he could make the time.

Trying to keep quiet, he cringes at the constant rustling of the bag as he practically tip-toes to the kitchen, very softly opening the fridge to place the food inside.

Mission successful.

When he opens the bedroom door, bringing a slither of light into the room, you keep your eyes closed. You don't want to upset him so you stay still as if you're asleep, even though you hadn't settled down that long ago. You aren't exactly in the mood to talk after being shooed away so promptly.

He shuffles around in the room for a few minutes before gently pulling the door shut and padding over to the other side of the bed, silently climbing in.

"Goodnight. I love you."

His voice is a whisper, low and smooth, as he shifts the covers slightly to get comfortable. The room is still and with Seto now beside you, you begin to feel yourself drifting to sleep.

When you wake up, it's with the feeling of an arm around your torso. You try to turn in your boyfriends' arms but he tightens his grip, letting out something between a whine and a groan, "don't move please."

"'morning," you mumble, keeping your eyes closed and following his wish, "what have you done with my boyfriend?"

Seto scoffs, pulling you into his chest so that he can rest his face in the crook of your neck. He presses a kiss to your skin, humming against it when you wriggle an arm out of his grasp to run a hand through his hair.

A few minutes pass with you wrapped in his arms until he decides to pull away. You expect him to get up and start changing into his work attire, but instead he tugs on your arm to turn you over and kiss you. You're barely awake and haven't even opened your eyes as his lips meet yours, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. He pulls away and mutters an almost-incoherent, 'I love you' and then kisses you again. And he kisses you again. And again.

You break away with a grin, cracking your eyes open to look at him: brown hair sticks up defiantly and his gaze is as soft and sweet as honey.

"I'm sorry for my attitude yesterday," his voice isn't as gentle this time, a firm sincerity held in his words, "I shouldn't have snapped."

"Thank you," you kiss him, "I love you too".

[masterlist]

It's how he gets off, one of the only ways

Alastor always finds ways to control the situation

Even from sitting in a chair while you're on his bed with your legs spread open and fingers working in and out

While he is listening to your moans and pussy squelches you are listening to his words, his commands

Soon as he says stop you stop, letting out a frusturated cry

Alastor humms and chuckles at your whining as his antlers elongate, the Radio Demon taking delight in seeing you beg and squirm for more

Usually people beg him to stop

You would too, this is a pretty twisted form of torture in your opinion

Being denied the pleasure and release you crave so much

Making it even worse he tells you to pull your fingers out and taste yourself for him

Tell him what you taste like

While that's happening he wants you to use your other hand to slowly and gently rub and tease your clit

He knows you need both clitoral stimulation and penetration to achieve orgasm and he's kept those seperate this whole time

Regardless of how much you want to come you'll listen to his orders because deep down you know it will be well worth it

As Alastor leans his chin on his hands and tells you to put your fingers in again you catch a glimpse of his bulge, twitching in anticipation

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A/N: Photo/Fanart Credit to @/Nyer_roth on Twitter (hiatus)

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM/CAT HYBRID DEMON READER ]

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Touch Starved Alastor prefers your presence over anyone else’s in the Hotel. His shadows linger by your side if he’s not physically there and when he is it’s quite obvious to everyone how closely the Radio Demon is guarding you.

No one dares to breathe a word about his behavior but the moment he’s out of sight or ear shot Angel will tease you endlessly. “Seems you have Mr. Fancy Creep wrapped round your little finger, toots.” Your face flushes ten shades of red as the spider demon nudges your side while giggling at your flustered reaction. He knows -well everyone knows how you feel about Alastor- but you’ve made it a point to never let the overload onto your attraction to him.

Even if he already is aware of it…

Angel’s teasing doesn’t help your little crush dissolve as you wished it would, so with a huff and a rushed whisper you excuse yourself from the group. “N-no I don’t Angel and…I’m heading to bed. Goodnight…” Angle snickers at your deliberate deflecting, but says nothing else as you waltz up the staircase, barely listening to Charlie yelling “good night” to you, and failing to notice the dark mass of spectrums trailing your every step.

Touch Starved Alastor listens in on those pesky conversations the others have when it comes to you and him. You’re always so skittish and docile under their prying, blushing at the slightest implication of his attention being on you, and to say it intrigues him would be an understatement. Alastor isn’t one to entertain those who show him affection, let alone acknowledge it, but when it comes to you the overload’s mind runs rampant with devious desires. At first he ignores them, content with keeping your connection to him cordial, and that works for a time.

It doesn’t last forever though.

Especially when you unconsciously tend to him so reverently. You’re a people pleaser by nature -he’s sure of that- but the immediate stars in your eyes whenever he instructs you to do something strikes just the right nerve for him.

It’s always the simplest things, tedious tasks he burdens you with just to see your eagerness to please him on repeat, “My dear, would you be so kind as to hand me that book over there?” Your head lifts, hopeful eyes staring at him as you nod with a genuine smile, “Of course!” You chirp, walking right over to the bookshelf without question to acquire the item, and Alastor watches your every move.

The flutter of your lashes as you pinpoint the object, how you stand on your tip toes to reach it, and the gentle sway of your hair as you finally grasp the book. You’re so sweet, so gentle with everything, and Alastor spends hours trying to stop himself from thinking about your tender embrace being spared his way.

Touch Starved Alastor starts to lock himself in his room or radio tower more often than usual when he can’t seem to keep his distance. His shadows still lord over you but are never seen which makes it that much easier for him to watch you from afar.

His sudden disappearance and lack of socializing affects you heavily. You don’t smile as much and when you do the light in your eyes wanes. You’re still kind to everyone, but choose to sit alone during group activities, or wander the halls humming to avoid them all together.

Alastor takes notice of every frown adorning your face when someone mentions him or inquires as to where he is and for a split second guilt creeps its way into him seeing your energetic mood dwindle at his hands.

He can’t let this go on forever, not when you look so betrayed at the sound of his name, and mindlessly wander towards his empty room every night as if to check on him just to leave in fear of embarrassment.

Enough is enough.

Touch Starved Alastor finds you alone on a rare stormy night in Hell, an old book opened up to your curious eyes as you lay flat on your front across the parlor’s couch. He watches you from the shadows for a long while, studying the slight scrunch of your nose as your gaze happens open a certain line of text, and the way you gently kick your feet as your chin rests on the back of your hands.

He’s seen and met a mass amount of beings in his time in hell and not one has ever emitted anything close to your ethereal beauty. You swear you’re not a fallen angel to anyone who asks and it baffles him how a soul so light could end up here.

Unruly luck….maybe?

Fate, possibly?

He’ll figure it out one way or another.

“Hello, my dear, late night reading I see…” Alastors voice grasps your attention immediately, his usual staticky tone leaning towards normality as you peer up at him with a growing smile. “Yes…I couldn’t sleep,” you respond quietly, relatively shy around the overload, and trying hard not to seem overexcited to see him. You missed Alastor dearly the past few days but it would be embarrassing to show that longing outright….

The deer demon picked up on your excitement right away despite your attempts at casualness, his smile softening as you held his stare and bit your lip. Delicate fanged canines poking out just enough to prick your lower lip.

How adorable, Alastor inwardly muses at your nervous habit and continues with his light hearted interrogation. “Hm, I suppose a restless night can have that effect. ..Would you mind if I joined you then, darling?”

Touch Starved Alastor is elated when you nod gently, shifting to sit up properly, and give him a space beside you. “Of course Alastor…it gets lonely staying up by yourself. I’d appreciate the company.” Your sweet tone dazes him for a moment as he sits next to you, unconsciously disregarding his aversion to interpersonal space…

Odd…

He never situates himself this close to you, always looming, but never actively seeking your side. It’s strange to you at first but as he visibly relaxes you don’t mind the deliberate position he’s taken.

He could very well be tired or you might be hallucinating that he was putting an arm around your shoulders.

Either option didn’t ease the rapid pace of your heartbeat..

Alastor was careful with you, incredibly gentle as he pulled you to his side, and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Such a sweetheart you are, my dear.” He speaks quietly, oddly calm as you hum in agreement, your soft ears flattening as you breathe in his scent.

A smidge of brimstone mixed with the aroma bourbon and pine.

He smelled just like a lovely forest, a secure scent you wouldn’t mind getting used to, and tried to commit it to memory just in case Alastor never let you get this close to him again.

Touch Starved Alastor chuckles lowly when you breathe him in, finding your feline tendencies endearing, and listening to your soft purring become a vocal indicator of how comfortable you felt with him. You’d long forgotten the book, nuzzling your head under Alastor’s chin instead, getting lost in your innocent desire to be under him, and he makes no move to stop you.

If anything the radio demon welcomes your touch, sliding you onto his lap with ease, and that never ending smile of his becoming genuine when you absentmindedly compliment him. “…You smell…sweet,” you hum, speaking more to yourself than him, but he hears you and responds promptly. “Is that so, darling?”

You nod, head lifting to stare up at him through your lashes, “Mhm…I missed it..I…” you pause, face flushing red as the deer demon peers back at you, red eyes glinting with dormant affection as he studies your expressions.

“Come now, use your words dear…” he reassures you his patience isn’t waning with a gentle hum.

Alastor is tempted to watch your plush lips move as you struggle to speak up but it’s hard to resist when you finally whisper a confession -one you think he’ll be off put by…

“W-well I missed you entirely Alastor… a lot actually.” And there you go again, eyes wide with apprehensive hope, and ever present adoration. He’d felt his fair share of adrenaline rushes, experienced the “blood rushing to your head” urges that sinners and demons alike couldn’t resist, and though Alastor prided himself in remaining in control of such things…

You brought them out of him without even trying.

Ridiculous, truly…but the longer you fawned over him the less cordiality Alastor maintained.

Touch Starved Alastor lets his smile soften, deeply appreciating your timid vulnerability, and much to your relief he lets you know it. “Missed me? Well, I must have quite the effect on you to instill such a sentiment,” His tone is abundantly softer than usual, quietly echoing in the hotels parlor, and tickling the nerves in your ears.

They perk up along with your tail as he rests his hands on your waist, pulling you impossibly close until the only proper place you can latch your hands onto is the back of the carved mahogany frame of the couch. “Al…” you sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on you tightens a tad in response.

When had he gotten so touchy? Better yet, why?

All logical questions that you were asking yourself weren’t granted answers as the overlord inhaled heavily. Breathing you in just as you’d done to him moments ago.

Your unsteady pulse, rising lust, slight confusion, and underlying fear of him coursing through your veins in waves. Alastor identified each emotion, practically tasting them on his tongue, and his hunger rose again from it.

He could just eat you alive at this rate and from the whine you let out as he trailed his hands down to your thighs, claws ripping right through the sheer white thigh high socks you’d paired with a modestly short nightgown made it abundantly clear to him you wouldn’t mind if he did.

How sweet you’d taste?

How the shaky whines you were letting out now could turn to bashful screams?

How sickeningly perfect you’d look broken, bloody, and marked by him and him alone?

He’d wondered about these things constantly…feverishly…

Touch Starved Alastor lets his mirage of being a “true gentleman” dissipate entirely when you subconsciously roll your hips down on him for much needed friction -and in an attempt to dissolve the pain his scratches on your skin brought.

Fuck. This. Alastor curses himself, swiftly repositioning you both in a blink of an eye. Your back hits the velvet cushions with a gentle ‘thud’, earning a soft gasp on your part that’s inevitably silenced by one of his shadows wrapping around your mouth, and another gingerly snaking round your waist. He chuckles as you squirm underneath him, clearly wanting to be in control of your own body, but what would you ever need that autonomy for?

He’s here for a reason, right?

Why grant you more agency than required?

“Comfortable, my dear?” The leering stag above you chides, grin wide as you groan in frustration, eyes sliding shut as he slips between your parted legs. His red irises show brighter as your lower halves press flush against each other and you shudder from the contact -inwardly congratulating yourself for not wearing much underneath your nightdress to begin with.

Alastor allowed your hands to reach for him, your delicate claws gripping his suit collar as firmly as possible, tugging him lower as you shifted under his weight to grind against him. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” he half reprimands half teases as your bare slit passes over the crotch of his black dress pants. There was no doubt your slick was leaving a stain and if it were anyone else -in any other situation- Alastor would’ve had their head for ruining his attire.

Luckily, you were to receive anything but his wrath.

How fortunate…

Touch Starved Alastor feels himself going mad when you mindlessly use any part of him you can reach as a bid for more pleasure. Eyes watering, begging him to touch you, help you, and it’s one hell of a sight to see in his opinion. “Desperate aren’t we, darling?” His cooing drives you insane, large hands wandering under your nightgown to trace your warm skin -not helping your dazed state at all.

Alastor purposefully claws at your body, placing surface level scars on it, letting the small droplets of blood that escape his cuts paint your skin and his fingertips. You struggle every soften, train of thought lagging as pain and pleasure start to intertwine.

“….please don’t stop..”

“What a sick & twisted little thing you are..”

Tears run down your face, drool dripping from the corner of your lips, and your cunt leaking all over him and sofa. Blood starts to seep through your nightdress in random streaks and it’s only then that Alastor decide it’s redundant to keep it on you. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” That’s all the warning you get from the radio demon before you feel his claws shred it to pieces.

Thank heavens you hadn’t chosen your favorite one tonight or you’d be devastated…

“Much, much better, Mon Cher,” Alastor praises you as if the task was at your own hands -and to some degree it was for letting him get this far- and yet your face flushes a deep shade of red as you nod in agreement.

The shadowy tentacle covering your mouth tightens its grip, shifting sharply to expose your neck to him, and Alastor seizes the opening immediately. Taking his time finding your sensitive spots, marking them with his teeth and tongue until there’s dark bruises left behind, and you nearly came undone from the relentless precision of love bites he inflicts on you.

Touch Starved Alastor allows your hands wander wherever they please, quite taken with the feeling of your dainty claws raking down his back, or shifting up to pet his ears. They flicker about at your touch, ever so sensitive, and heightening the pleasure he gets from torturing you. Every sound you make, the shuddering moans against his lips, and the muffled cries that build in your chest when Alastor toys with you muddles his focus further.

Bit by bit you’re chipping away at his sanity by simply enjoying his caress and offering him yours.

Alastor isn’t one to succumb to pleading easily but when you’re given the chance to use your voice and beg for release without a second thought….he hasn’t got the gall to deny you.

Not when you’re looking up at him like you might die if he denies you, so worked up that you stutter, and shake uncontrollably.

“N-need to….p-please let me…come,” you whine as quietly as possible, ears laying flat on your head as he hums melodically in false consideration for your plight.

It’s fueling his already massive ego that you’re poised to come undone when he’s barely done a thing to you and he has half the mind to pull away and watch you fall to pieces…

You’d surely give him a show then, pouting helplessly, or cowering from embarrassment realizing how much of a mess you’ve made of yourself for him.

It’d be pure entertainment.

However, why waste a prime opportunity to see you utterly satisfied by him?

By his mere presence even.

The deer demon refuses to pass up such a rare occurrence, flipping your position again so your smaller frame sits atop his larger one. “F-fuck..” you hiss as you settle on top of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he guides your hips to keep riding him at a rough but languid pace. Alastor observes you above him for a long moment, smile widening when your hair falls in front of your bright eyes, and your hands splay across his chest to keep yourself steadily upright.

The scratches he’s left on you are still fresh, mixing with the tears that flow down your face, and your arousal pitifully dribbling down your inner thighs as well.

Exactly how he pictured you time and time again.

“You may,” he finally exhales, static completely gone from his voice, and hearing it elicits a newfound spark of heat in your core. Your legs shake involuntarily, hips stuttering in tight circles over his clothed erection as you chased your high. Alastor watches you intently, tonguing his cheek to keep from groaning, and his body running hotter than usual as your cunt drags against him.

Touch Starved Alastor can’t fathom how a soul as tender as yours can dwindle to filth in the midst of cumming. Head lulling at an angle while your back arches just right to define your silhouette in the dark room.

The coil in your stomach snaps faster than you can gauge a reaction. A scream threatening to leap from your chest as it washed over you, but his shadows return, clasping tight enough to muffle it. “Easy, my dear…you wouldn’t want to disturb the others, hm?” Alastor bucks his hips upward to make his point clear and you visibly jolt from the overstimulation he causes.

It was clear he needed his end met too and that brought a grin to your face as his shadows receded from your lips when you quieted down. “No…” you sigh, inching a hand lower to trace over the rise in his pants. Alastor stiffens under your touch, nearly snarling when you palm him slowly, eyes never leaving his as you do. Tempting and sweet as always, “Careful, Mon Cher,” he warns, voice thick with allure.

He’d only come to seek a warm body to torment, assuming he’d take care of his own needs later, but you -the ever so caring sinner you were- seemed intent to shoulder the task now.

You licked your lips, tongue grazing your fangs as your peered down at him defiantly with a warm smile, “M’ not one of your little puppets…” Alastor raised a brow at that, noting the mischievous glint in your eyes as you leaned forward, “….and I never will be.” You finish your statement, smiling wider before lowering yourself down his body. He lets you do as you please, stuck between observing, and enjoying the attention you give him.

It’s very rare to see the overload so willing to be tested, but you made your stance clear with a singular lick up his clothed length with the softest smile on your lips. “Fuck…” he groans then, static nonexistent again as you playfully repeated the action until he became agitated enough to fist a handful of your hair and drag you back up to face him.

“It’s not very polite to tease, sweetheart.”

You smirk and reach for his belt, skillfully undoing it without breaking eye contact, feigning humility through half lidded eyes“Then would you be so kind as to correct my manners then?”

“It’d be my pleasure, darling,”

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My head was all over the place with this one ❤️ I need some sleep…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I think that Alastor as a boyfriend would not be like a pink fantasy. He would search for a weak person, someone as powerful as him but with a soft mind, just for him to break and possess, for him to care and love, for his to own. In a relationship, he would not be a PDA fan, but you would always wear his gifts as a way to express your love to him, like necklaces and hats.

Yeah, he likes the idea of being loved by someone, worshipped by someone and becomes crazy at the thought that you would do anything for him, it raises up his ego, it makes him feel that he's a god and you're his believer. His favorite treasure.

He's definitely Ultraviolence—Lana Del Rey. At first, it starts beautiful, he hunts you from far away, studies your likes, dislikes, your routine, your whole life, and then he attacks, he makes you feel like you're the only one in the world that he would settle for (and it's true), but here comes the problems.

You discover how he is actually, you realize that he's not just polite, handsome, divine, he can be rough, selfish, maniac and obsessive, he likes you as a toy, as something that has no voice or opinion, he knows what you're capable for, he knows your powers, so he rathers having you as his partner than his enemy. Because god, he's so fucking smart he knows what's the best for him.

Even if you don't agree, he is in love with you, but he doesn't know how to show it. He's a killer, he doesn't have feelings for anyone, but then you came. You're his first time, you're the one that made him feel like a highschool girl, and fuck he's trying to understand you, but please, understand him too.

He shows his feelings by material things, by acts of service, and when you became intimate, he whispers you the sweetest things in your ear, he hugs you tight to his body, he smells your hair as he admires his cute little thing.

Is he aggressive? He would hit you if you get out of his control, yes. Is he manipulative? Yes, he would run after you then with flowers and gifts to make sure you don't leave him.

What's the thing he liked most of you? You're quiet. He loves quiet, he loves the fact that he can tell you the nastiest things and not even a word would come out of your mouth. He loves that you're easy to handle, so he doesn't feel weak. He loves that you're loyal, he gets hot by thinking that even if he's not good for your mental health, you would still look for him. He loves the idea of you.

And if someone hurts you, he'll make sure they know what they did. I promise, you don't wanna find out.

As the time passes, he gets more empathy with you, and learns how to love you the right way, he listens, he tries to let you do your things by yourself, and he becomes more in love with you, with your trueself, like, no, he doesn't stop being a psychopath bf, but he realizes that you're not just a thing he can throw away, and if he wants to keep you with him, he has to treat you the right way.. Because if he doesn't, he's more than sure that you would never ever go back with him, after how he abused you.

Alastor as a boyfriend is not the best, but he's learning how to be human.

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