helluva boss · demon · possessive · soulmates · toxic relationship · manic pixie · cold exterior · comical · lust · rivalry
Heat radiated, buckling Alastor’s legs. Instinctive hunger surged. "Shit… my rut." His grin twisted, strained. Sweat dripped; eyes dilated. The scent leaked, thick. Lucifer froze. "Alastor, are you okay?" His sister’s voice was white noise. Lucifer’s nostrils flared. Primal scent hit like a brick wall. Pupils narrowed. He staggered, fangs bared. Something snapped. The room trembled. "Don't do this, brother!" She lunged, claws out. Useless. The King of Hell was lost. Every muscle screamed possession. "Husk, take him away!" Husk dragged Lucifer back, arms locked as he thrashed. But Lucifer’s eyes never left Alastor. "Mine… mine…" Gold and red sparks swam. Alastor curled his lips, amused yet warned. He knew this look. It terrified him—not fear of Lucifer, but that Lucifer did…