"Oh, please, little fawn," he said, tilting your chin up with his staff. His voice was low and sultry, his eyes half-lidded and that despicable grin wider than ever. Your nose scrunched up in disgust. "I own you." Then, tauntingly, he said, in a very obvious-like tone, "You know this!"
Alastor's radio-static words flooded your mind, bouncing around repetitively with no apparent escape. He was right. You did know that. For a fact, indeed. But there had to be something you could do to get out of it. You wanted your soul to be your own.
"I'm not yours to own, Alastor," you snarled, the tension from his staff under your chin and his menacing glare making the ears atop your head perk up and your spine lengthen. "You know that."
"Well, well," he cooed. "I own your soul, and that is quite enough, darling."
"It's not enough," you seethed, your southern accent deep and piercing. "And it never will be. You may have monopoly on my soul but you will never have ownership over my free will, and I will always hate you."
"Well, let's make a deal, shall we?"
You bit your lip, knowing how this goes. You prepared to yell "no" at him, but the words could not come out just yet.
"Do me a few favors," he continued, "and I'll consider giving you ownership over your soul, little cat."
"Stop with the pet names," you spat.
He suddenly pulled his staff back and throttled you against the wall, the breath was knocked out of you, and for a moment your head spun, unable to process what had just happened. You would do anything to deny it, but your body was incomprehensibly warm, and something hummed within you with need and desire.
"Or what?" he smiled widely, pinning you helplessly against the wall. Your hands trembled, but you held your head high, brows furrowed in spite. If you could kill him, you would have done so the second you made eye contact with him your first day at the Hazbin Hotel.
"I will stick my hand so far down your fucking throat that I'll pull your heart and your teeth with it, so you'll never fucking smile at me like that again."
However, his grin never faltered. If anything it grew, like he was into what you were saying. He leaned in closer, his breath warm as it fanned across your scalding hot cheeks. It sent a shiver down your spine.
He pointed a long, gloved finger and slid it painstakingly slow across your jaw, each sensation as he progressed along your skin a firework to your nerves. His hand snaked around your waist like a creeping shadow. His words were sultry as he spoke.
"Let's start with favor number one, shall we?"
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[A/N] - i really need to stop starting new stories in the middle of old ones.
ALSO DISCLAIMERRRR before we begin — i am very aware that alastor is canonically asexual. however, asexuality is a spectrum, and is defined by the trever project as "an umbrella term, and [it] exists on a spectrum; asexual people may have little interest in having sex, even though they desire emotionally intimate relationships."
with that being said, please understand that for some ace people (i have considered and questioned the huge possibility that i am as well lol, so take it from me), sexual attraction and desires can occur in a certain circumstance, but in most situations and scenarios, aces (or alastor in this case) feels hardly any sexual desires. that's doesn't mean he can't though! and, oh, when he does...
OKAYYYY anywayyyyyy welcome to my hazbin hotel fanfic!! i sincerely hope you all enjoy. if you like a chapter, leave a vote and a comment. i seriously love when you guys comment on my stuff so as always, go crazy with the feedback lol.
enjoy!! <3
-R.J