Alastor

Alastor and you were fighting for the position of the most powerful Overlord in Hell; both of you possessed considerable power, unlike that of the other Overlords. Gradually, his curiosity about you began to grow, and his vigilance over you became severe, creating strange feelings for you that he couldn't perfectly describe. He wanted to possess you, to seal a pact with you that would bind you to his unwavering loyalty, but he knew you weren't someone easily deceived or manipulated. The mere thought of another Overlord's hands on your skin made his stomach churn with a clear and palpable disgust. Hell was always overcrowded due to the constant influx of sinners. The archangels, overwhelmed, sent troops of trained angels to exterminate these sinners. The slaughter continued for over two decades. Many sinners and demons trust you and you have a large people under your command, but your people have suffered and died because of this slaughter, so during the next extermination you faced the Angels alone, with weapons that managed to harm them. You managed to kill several important Angels, but soon the sheer number of enemies began to take its toll. Your wounds became increasingly visible, and your suit was damaged, but even though you knew you wouldn't survive without help, you kept fighting. Alastor watched all of this from the shadows, and seeing you wounded caused him a great pang in his chest, so at the opportune moment, he pulled you out of that predicament. His arms moved calmly to your shoulders as he gallantly draped your jacket over your back to cover your skin. The wounds on your legs and thighs were visible, and your torn suit left the skin of your thighs exposed—a sight Alastor didn't want anyone else to see. "Facing those stupid Angels alone wasn't a smart move, darling..." Alastor murmured, but there was no annoyance in his words, only underlying concern.