#yes there's an alastor fic coming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

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hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

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fraugwinska · 7 months ago

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A very incomplete list of Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction Authors/Geniuses

I cannot believe the awsome, talented, absolute magnificent people I've met through this fandom. Writing FF for Hazbin Hotel has become one of my greatest joys in life, and reading the stories and creations of my fellow friends and idols is something that can brighten my whole week - and we don't gatekeep. So, if you're in search for a good read, here are a few of the SUPER AWSOME people I stalk (and I want to stress - this list is never going to be complete, but I'll try to edit it as there are just SO MANY GODDANG MASTERS out there!) @bapple117 If you love #RadioStatic, you have to read 'Bluest Monday' (completed) and the follow-up 'Say Hello, Wave Goodbye' (WIP) She'll break your heart in the most beautiful way. If you don't fancy that but Alastor is your go-to, then you will want to dive in head-first into "If You Can't Say Somethin' Nice, Don't Say Nothin' At All" (complete). But as before, be ready for a rollercoaster of emotional moments and extremely spicy shenanigans.

@hazelfoureyes Goddess of the smut, Hottest writer in Hell - If you're horny, Hazel has got you covered. Especially her 'The safeword is Radioapple'-Mini-series will make you sweat like a Zumba-Instructor on crack. Be prepared to blush, tremble, die and immediately ressurrect, because yes. She is THAT good.

Clover/corruptedteacups on AO3 With whooping 75 chapters and 300k+ hits, her Fanfic 'The Red means I Love you' is one of the best, most detailed slow-burn-pining-angsty-smutty-will-they-wont-they Masterpieces I've read so far. Alastor is magnificent and I guarantee you'll fall in love with Clover, the bunny who captures the heart of you deerest red demon.

@melodyonthewireless Highly underappreciated (imho), her fic "A Match made in Hell" (WIP) follows her OC Sybil down to hell, into the Hazbin Hotel and consecutively the arms of Alastor - but don't you dare underestimate the pink, harmless looking doe. Sybil's witch powers and her sassy, witty personality is quite the match to the established readio overlord. It's such a read, and the wait between chapters the sweetest agony!

@macabr3-barbi3 She delivers every. single. TIME. Her Short stories and One-Shots are like Pringles - Once you pop, you can't stop. I'm deeply in love with 'Dream a little Dream' (WIP), 'Nothing I can't Handle' (WIP) makes me run for a cold shower and did I mention the countless one-shot-candies that make you mouth water and your toes curl?

@slutforalastor/InconspicuousBosch on AO3 Whether it's the One-Shots on tumblr (omg the PRIEST ALASTOR BIT *fans face*) or the incredible Choose-your-Path-Fic "Say it with a smile" (completed) - you will be both amazed at the artistry of the wording and storybuilding and blushing at the sheer craft of the smut and sexual tension.

@impale-me-radio-daddy Founder of the kink #antlerplay, his series of 'The Lookalike' is steamy, outrageous, utterly magnificent and filthy down to the bones. Be prepared for some serious questioning of your own preferences, because you WILL get some epiphanies. And that's a PROMISE.

@hurthermore Listen. LISTEN. Bimbo is the mini-series that had me on a friggin CHOKEHOLD. It takes a special talent to make one so invested in THE radio demon, gentleman a la carte Alastor believably pining after and pounding a lovable, dumb airhead sinner with a fable for skimpy dresses and leave you at the end wanting for seconds and thirds!

As I said, this is a highly incomplete list, and I'll absolutely edit this list as I go. But I needed to put this out in the world. To all of the above, and all of those which I didn't include YET but most certainly will -

I ADORE YOU, I PRAY AT YOUR FEET, YOU ARE AMAZING BEINGS AND I LOVE YOU.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel smut #radiostatic #radioapple #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #fraugwinskaandfriends #ily fellow beings #author appreciation

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voxsremotec0ck · 9 months ago

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HI OKAY SO IM THINKING LIKE VOX X READER AND VOX OWNS READERS SOUL AND THEN HE GETS JEALOUS OR ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING SO LIKE WE RECREATE THAT SCENE WITH HUSK AND ALASTOR WHEN ALASTOR HAS HUSK ON A CHAIN BUT INSTEAD OF ALASTOR ITS VOX AND INSTEAD OF HUSK ITS READER IF U KNOW WHAT I MEANN TYYY

AHHHHHHHH

You made the mistake of talking to Alastor

The radio demon had come up to you on the sidewalk, asking questions about random things

And the whole time you had a pit in your stomach

Because you knew what was going to happen when you got home

There was no way Vox didn’t see, not with his cameras everywhere

So you knew there was going to be trouble

When you walked into your shared bedroom you were immediately met with flickering lights

A cyan chain appeared around your throat and yanked you to your knees

“What the fuck were you doing with him?”

Vox’s voice was filled with static, cutting off every other word, and he stepped in front of you

“Vox please-“

“ANSWER ME!”

His body grew menacingly, red lines growing from his mouth like blood, lights flashing like crazy as he towered over you

You were terrified

“He just came up to me! I tried to get away as fast as possible but-“

“But what?!”

Tears spilled from your eyes as your body shook uncontrollably

“But I didn’t want him to hurt me.”

Vox stared at you for a moment, mulling over your answer, before letting out a mean chuckle

“The only one who can hurt you, Doll, is me remember?”

He pulled on your chain as if to emphasize his point

You lurched forward, falling at his feet

Looking up, you saw his left eye was wide and black rings circled his pupil

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Vox smirked and knelt down, dragging a claw down your cheek

“You’re mine. Never forget that. I don’t ever want to see you talking to him again, understand?”

You nodded and tear fell from your eye

He smirked and wiped it away

“Good.”

I need to take a break from the pornstar!reader fic so have this

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #yandere vox #vox headcanons #vox smut #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel smut #ᯤ answers

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eggcats · 7 months ago

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Radioapple fic, where after it's revealed that Pentious was redeemed, Heaven sends some angels (including some of Lucifer's own family) down to check out this Hazbin Hotel. (common fic theme)

And Lucifer is STRESSED. He hasn't seen any of his family in millennia, and they absolutely did not part on good terms. Especially because now he has to make as good of an impression as he can because he will NOT be the cause of Charlie's dreams failing.

Anyway, one of Lucifer’s estranged family arrives and they have absolutely NOTHING good to say about the hotel, it's people, or even hell itself. Insulting the decor, how it looks, being like "You got kicked out for free will and THIS is what they do with it? Ugh." and the like.

Lucifer is trying to keep himself together for Charlie's sake. (He's only had 3 breakdowns today, he's doing good!)

However, the last thing he expects is Alastor coming to his defense. Alastor looks at this shitty relative of Lucifer’s and is immediately like, "How DARE you? Antagonizing this angel is MY JOB, and I don't send him into hysterics, I send him into MUSICAL NUMBERS. Get out of my hotel immediately." But, obviously, he can't SAY that (for many reasons, the least of which is that Charlie needs them here for her redemption project).

So instead, he just picks at everything they say. "Hmmmmm, yes, but we at least chose to do this with this, free will you're insulting. What's your excuse for that eyesore youre wearing, hmmm?"

Alastor goes as far as to defend Lucifer’s choices in decor in the hotel, and Lucifer is completely confused because he and Alastor literally fought the day before about that SAME decor??

(The second the angel leaves Alastor turns to him and goes "They're right, you know, that is the ugliest interior design I've ever seen," and then DISAPPEARS before Lucifer can even respond. What the hell?!)

Alastor is not ignorant of toxic family dynamics, and while part of his initial issues with Lucifer stemmed from his belief in him being a deadbeat father, actually knowing him kind of changes his thoughts on this. It's a little telling that Charlie has been (apparently) attempting to contact her mother during her 7 year disappearance and has heard nothing, but the father who (she believed) thinks she's a failure shows up within an hour of her calling him ONCE. And then he does whatever he can to help her dreams, and the second she implies she wants him around more, he MOVES IN. It's kind of hard to continue thinking that LUCIFER is the toxic parent in the family dynamic, after all this.

(He still fights him, though, because it's fun to tell the most powerful being in hell his choice of interior design is ugly. If Alastor kind of doesn't go for the throat in all of Lucifer’s insecurities anymore, no one needs to acknowledge that.)

So, during the entire Heaven tour, Alastor is strongly in the "form a united front" boat. He can and WILL come out of the shadows for a sarcastic quip that simultaneously shuts them down AND makes Lucifer feel better.

(Alastor will NOT acknowledge the anger that goes through him at the idea of someone other than him picking at Lucifer, especially when they are CLEARLY trying to send him into a breakdown. How dare they. *cough* Anyway.)

So the whole ordeal winds up not as stressful as Lucifer was dreading, because somehow he has an antagonistic cannibal deer defending him the entire time. And Lucifer has no idea HOW that happened, but it does kind of make him feel better. (And Alastor's form of mocking him does, too, somehow.)

When they're alone, however, Alastor still picks at him so they can fight. (And Lucifer didn't notice until now how much FUN he has fighting with Alastor, and that Alastor insulting him makes him want to do better and prove him wrong, unlike his visiting family that makes him want to lock himself away for a decade.)

The tour ends, and Alastor and Lucifer go back to how they were before. (Sort of. Lucifer might be re-evaluating every interaction they've ever had and might send himself into a mild crisis.)

#hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #duckiedeer #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fic #mine #long post #Alastor seeing someone else making fun of Lucifer: how DARE you thats MY job and youre not even DOING IT RIGHT get out of my hotel now

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yuebinnie · 6 months ago

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Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

#alastor smut #alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #priest alastor #reader insert #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #yueyan writes...

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chronicbeans · 10 months ago

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Nurse's Office

Needed to write a platonic Alastor x Nurse Reader Angst fic after I saw that fight between him and Adam like holy hell.

TW: Injuries and Blood, Medical Tools/Procedures, Anxiety/Slight Panic, Spiraling Mental Health

So... When you got started at the Hazbin Hotel, you didn't expect to be a nurse there. Sure, you have the skills, but you usually don't have a nurse working a hotel. Now, though, you completely understand why they'd want to hire you for that, and not the room service position you applied for. Over the little time you've been here, you've seen more injuries that you could've ever imagined at a single hotel, with so few guests.

After the fight with the angels, though? You have been working on overdrive. You've had to patch everyone up, and you can't even find Alastor. You keep doing a head count after every person you treat, seeing if you can find him, but he doesn't show up. Your anxiety only gets worse once you check on Vaggie, the last person you had to help, and he still didn't make an appearance.

You don't want to assume the worst, though, so you grab some medical supplies, put them into a bag, then head out into the debris. He has to be somewhere. Even if he's not alive, he still deserves to be found. He also couldn't have gotten far! Yeah, he kind of... disappeared at one point...? You didn't get a good look, but he did disappear from your sight. But you don't suspect he'd have went far from the hotel while injured. Just far enough to be safe. That's what you hope, at least...

You continue wandering around for a few hours, your legs feeling exhausted after a while. Climbing over all the rubble, breathing in some of the settling dust, and straining your eyes to see up ahead is tiring... that, and you keep scraping your hands and knees on the sharp rocks and broken concrete. The most disheartening part, though, is that you still haven't seen him... Then, you spot it.

A tiny little splatter of blood.

Then, another splatter nearby...

And another...

Yes, a trail! You don't know who it's going to lead to, but you can see some lights in the distance. It at least leads somewhere. You quickly begin to follow it, seeing the red light get brighter and brighter. The radio tower comes into view. You know that it has to be Alastor, at this point. Why hadn't you thought of it sooner? You climb down the rubble, beginning to make your way over to the ruined tower ahead of you.

As you get close to the bottom hatch, you hear some footsteps against the floor. Immediately, you knock on the hatch, making your presence known. "Alastor! It's (Y/N)! I'm coming in there! If you're on the door, you better get off. Don't even try to stop me from getting in, either, because I'll climb through one of the windows if I have to." You pause, hearing the footsteps stop for a moment. After a few seconds, you crawl into the radio tower.

The place is a mess, to say the least... which, you expected. You stand up, then immediately scan the room for Alastor. It's a bit dark, and knowing him, he's probably going to try to hide, somehow. He hates being seen as weak, and from all the blood you've seen so far, he's gotten injured. Badly.

"Alastor? I know you're in here. I heard you walking." You walk around the room, checking every corner. Then, you notice an oddly moving shadow, alongside a puddle of blood. You walk over to it, frowning. "I know you're there. Come on. I'm here to help." You sigh as the shadow makes a little grunt noise, much like a deer would. You then cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at it. Looks like you'll have to appeal to his ego a little.

"How do you think people would feel if you, the great Radio Demon, died here alone in the shambles of his radio tower?" The shadow grows quiet as you say this, and before you know it, Alastor appears before you. He looks terrible, holding his stomach with one arm and the broken remains of his microphone in his other hand. You take a step towards him, but he backs away a bit.

"I'm fine, dear... It's nothing I can't handle. Just give me some time to regain my energy, then I-" You shake your head instantly, gesturing to his wound. "No, Alastor! Look at you. You almost died! Sure, maybe you can regenerate, I don't know... but I spent an hour or so looking for you, with the sole intention of helping you! I didn't come here for you to tell me "No, I don't need help, even though I'm severely wounded"! I came here to assist you."

You watch his eyes widen, his already strained grin becoming even more strained. His ears then pull back, the look in his eyes becoming more distressed. He mutters something, before nodding. Then, he leans against the wall, before slowly easing himself to the floor. "Fine, dear. If you truly came all this way, I guess it would be rude if I said no to your help." You are a bit shocked he gave up so easily, as well as how uneasy he looks. You decide to just help him, though.

You crouch next to him, taking out your medical tools from your bag. "You're definitely going to need stitches... my healing magic can only do so much, but it should work better if I close the wound first." You smile gently, before you point to him. "Though, I'm going to have to, at least, unbutton your shirt and coat to do so. Are you comfortable with that? I know you are very iffy about being touched..."

Alastor then begins to show more visible signs of discomfort, his eyebrows furrowing, and a slight static hum droning from somewhere nearby. You pick up on it, beginning to think aloud. "I can try to find some way to maneuver around the fabric, instead, since it was cut open-" "No. No. I trust you, dear." You blink a few times, wondering why he is acting so oddly. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, dear. I know you well enough to trust you." He then pauses, before quickly adding "You're a medical professional, after all. You've probably seen more than an upper torso, before. I trust you to not be a degenerate."

You simply chuckle, nodding. "You better! I'd say we're good friends, after all." You then quickly unbutton the clothing, before grabbing some sterile gloves and disinfectant. As you put the gloves on, you hear him mutter something, once again. Then, when you grab a set of tweezers and a cotton ball, he makes an odd comment. "We're great friends, yes...? If I told you a secret, you'd keep it, right?" You nod as you pick the cotton ball up with the needle, cover it in disinfectant, then begin to disinfectant the wound. "Yeah. You can tell me. It'll probably keep you distracted from any pain you feel, too."

Instead of a hiss of pain, the static noise grows loud for a moment. Then, it quiets down a bit as he talks. "I'm not entirely sure if you know this, already, but I made a deal... My soul is owned by someone else. I regret it more than anything..." You let out a little hum, your expression changing to one of shock. You grab the suture needle, as well as some thread. "Why are you telling me this?"

"(Y/N), my dear... I trust you more than many others. I've seen you working in that nurse's office of yours. You care more than the average sinner about others. Almost to a hilarious degree. I can imagine you patching up a soldier on one side of a battle and sending them out, then immediately do the same with someone from their enemy's side." He then laughs, before coughing a bit. "You care... but don't care when it comes to the right things to interest me. I trust you to not care about this, even if it means you'll keep secrets from me."

You nod, before gently smiling. "I'll keep it a secret... I know others could hold this against you and use it for an advantage. So, I won't say a word. Plus, you're right. I'm a bit of a chaotic middle ground. I don't like taking sides." You then get the needle into position, beginning to actually sew him up. "So, tell me... Is there anything else you're anxious about?"

His ears flick, the static growing once more. Then, it dies down again. "I don't want to be remembered as an altruist... I don't want to be seen as someone who had died for that hotel and his friends. I know that there's probably some people there who believe I died... and knowing Vox, he probably found some way to watch what happened. That man is practically obsessed with me, after all, dear!" He laughs, again, causing you to have to pause your suturing. After a few seconds, he begins coughing more. He sounds genuinely upset, despite his laughing.

"Why wouldn't you like that?" Alastor seems to disregard your question, instead beginning to talk about his deal once more. "There has to be an exit to that deal... a loophole. Something so I can get out of it..." You begin to continue, almost done with your work. "Are you sure...? What was it?" "I'm sure, and it's private matters."

You finish up, thing up the last suture's knot. Then, you take off your gloves, putting on a fresh pair, and grab the bandages. "... Alastor, are you alright...?" He looks to you, his eyes wide. "Why are you asking...? I am perfectly fine. Not a problem here. After I get free from my deal, I'll be-"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Alastor... you're frowning."

Alastor seems to grab at his cheeks for a moment, an odd, anxious grimace spreading across his face. Then, he begins forcing another grin. His tone is a lot more frantic, as if he has begun to spiral. Or, perhaps, just begun to outwardly express that he's spiraling. "I wasn't frowning. I am fine, dear." "You're not fine... but, if you say so, Alastor. I won't push the topic." You bandage his wound, before sighing. "Okay, so... This magic works oddly. You'll be-"

Before you can finish, he begins standing up. "Hey, wait-" He, holds a hand up, shushing you. Then, he points to himself. "I'll take care of the rest. You should handle your own wounds, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed your scrapes and cuts. You look like you've ran through a thornbush on your way over here." He begins buttoning up his shirt and coat, and you're shocked to see it repairing itself as he does so. Clearly, while your friend's power is limited, he's hiding more secrets than you expected...

"Fine... You better not leave me here by myself as I do so, though." You go from a crouching position, to a sitting one, as you clean off your tiny cuts. You hear him go quiet, for a moment, but can't see his expression due to your focus now being on yourself. After a few moments, though, you hear him chuckle.

For the first time, you hear his voice clearly, with no radio waves obscuring it. "Of course, dear. I never would dream of that. The others, though? Maybe..."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic x reader #platonic #Hehehe I might make a sequel idk

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reticent-writer · 10 months ago

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Hiii, can you please write another fic about a teenage reader (16-18) and anybody from hazbin hotel. It can be about anything

HEloooo

Alastor x teen reader platonic

Headcannon by @ghostly-one: "During Alastor's absence, Reader went to the overlord meetings in his place"

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

*knock knock knock*

You heard as you groaned and pushed your head up from your pillow.

"It's me, Y/n." You could hear the radio static through your door, "I have an errand to run and would like for you to join me."

"I'll be down in a minute." You replied as you started to get up.

------

"Oh, boy whats the plan, boss?"

"I like your suits."

"What are the antlers for?"

"Can I touch your ~staff thing~?"

"Are those your ears? or is it your hair? I can't tell."

The egg boiz were annoying the fuck outta you and Alastor. If you knew they would've tagged along, you wouldn't have come even if you were going to an overlord meeting.

"Hark Alastor, Y/n. How fare thee this day." Zestial appeared from nowhere in front of the both of you.

"Good evening Zestial, It's nice to see you again." You greeted with a smile as Alastor quickly threatened the eggs.

"Greetings Zestial." Alastor said as the sinners around you three started to take notice and run.

"Ah, the weather doth become this fine day."

"Indeed. Looks like we might have some acid rain this afternoon."

"If our luck doth hold! I do revel in the screams. How art thou? It has been an age since thou hath graced us with thy presence. Y/n hast been in thy lodging since thee've been gone." Zestial looked to you with a pleased expression as he patted your shoulder before continuing his conversation with Alastor.

"Some hath spun wild tales of you falling into... Holy arms."

"Hahaha Oh, I just took a well-earned sabbatical. Nothing serious. Though it's fun to keep everyone of their toes."

"There too hath been rumour of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy. TELL ME, how does thou fall in such folly." Zestial would've creeped you out if you weren't used to his (and Alastor's) over-the-top and old-timey ways.

"That is more me to know. But please do guess. I'd love to know the theories."

"T'would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor. Thou hath been naught but an enigma since thy manifested in this realm."

"Coming from someone as ancient as you, I take that as quite the compliment."

The three of you made it the the building where the meeting would be taking place as you and Zestial stepped into the elevator you waiting for Alastor to tell the eggs to wait for him before pressing the button.

-------

You sat in between Alastor and one of Carmilla's daughters.

"Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords. I've invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of out city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest." Carmilla said matter-of-factly. "Zestial, so good to see you, my friend."

"Enchanted as always Carmilla." He said as he sipped his tea.

Carmilla was about to look around the room when she spotted Alastor. The face that she made nearly made you laugh.

"Alastor?"

"Yes, I know I've been absent some time. I'm sure you've all been wondering." Alastor spoke like he'd been waiting 7 years just to say that.

"Not really. But welcome back in any case." She dismissed him. You could hear the static abruptly stop and had to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh.

Once the meeting started you zoned out staring at the wall. To be honest you didn't really care about the meetings you were only there to show your face and now that Alastor is back it gave you less of a reason to care, but interesting things did happen quite often.

Like Velvette wanting a war with the exterminators.

✿��:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

Zestial translation: It would be much more foolish to think that I understand how your mind works, Alastor. You have always been a mystery to me ever since you came into this world. (just thought it would be nice to add this.)

@ghostly-one

This is choppy and rushed but parade season is starting soon and I have a lot of performances before then too.

#child reader #x child reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #platonic #male reader #female reader #gn reader #reticent writes #reticent writer

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activesplooger · 12 days ago

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ʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ | ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ | ꜱᴍᴜᴛ 18+

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) ITS DONNEEEE!! omg guys i literallyyyy akjbfkwjefhkbwefk longest fic ever and honestly my favv i had so much fun making this!!! Also, "Papermint" is like the fanon name for Vox's assistant in ep 2

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You got a job working as an assistant for Vox at VoxTech! Though, his behavior is quite strange around you... He's very touchy-feely, a strange thing for the infamous TV demon to do. Oh, well! It's probably nothing (it's not nothing).

ᴄᴡ: obsessive behavior, stalking, yandere, infatuation, voyeurism, smut, body pillows, masturbation, kidnapping, hypnotism

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7,614

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

"M-Miss L/N?" A nervous sinner in a VoxTech uniform steps out of the office you patiently waited outside of for about an hour now. You smile politely at the employee and nod. "Yes?" you respond. "M-Mr. Vox would like to see you now.". "Great, thanks!" You grab your resume off your lap and slowly walk to the office door. Your hand hovers over the knob as you mentally prepare yourself for the interview on the other side of the door. ‘You’ve got this… Deep breaths… Inhale… Exhale…’.

Candidate after candidate had gone in and out of the office, each coming out with an upset expression, one of them even started crying! The TV Demon had a reputation for being pretty ruthless, but you didn't know it could be that bad. Even the employee that called you in seemed like he was about to crap his pants from all the pressure. You really needed this job. Rent is higher, and income is at an all-time low. You're hoping your less-than-accurate resume was believable.

You take a few deep breaths, 'C'mon, I've got this! I can handle it... I hope...'. After managing to calm down, you plaster on a wide grin and open the door.

“Hi, Mr. Vox! I’m here for the interview.”

— Earlier...

Velvette rolls his eyes as she walks into Vox's office, "Ugh, are you seriously still spying on that saggy old radio fuck?". Vox sat in his office chair, eyes fixed on the Radio Demon displayed from different angles on various monitors. A few swears were muttered under Vox's breath before prying his eyes away from the screen. Spinning his chair around, he slaps on a faux customer service smile, "Velvette! What can I do for you this sinful afternoon, my dear?". A scoff escapes her mouth, "How long are you gonna let this little Alastor obsession run your life? You're supposed to be interviewing new assistants, not stalking some poor hair-styled geriatric fuck! Get it together!". Vox was only half listening, focusing on the screen with Alastor more than the furious overlord before him. Click Click Velvette snaps her fingers in front of the distracted TV Demon. Vox waves a dismissive hand in response, "Yeah, yeah, I'll have Papermint take care of it...". "You really think Papermint can handle that, darling?" A look of realization spreads across Vox's face, "Fuck, you're right. I'll deal with it.". "Attaboy!" The Fashion Overlord praises with a satisfied grin before exiting the office. An annoyed scowl spreads across Vox's face once she leaves. He gets one last look at The Radio Demon displayed throughout the monitors, "Until next time...". __

After countless interviews, Vox was at the end of his rope. Each candidate wasn't qualified in some aspect according to Vox's standards. 'Too eager.' 'Too little experience.'. Some of them simply had an "unlikable face" according to him and sent them out before the interview could even start. "S-Sir?" Papermint hesitantly speaks, "Would you like me to send in the next applicant..?" Vox sighs, "Papermint, let me ask you this. Have I hired anyone yet?" "N-No..." "Then, ɎɆS ɎØᵾ ƗNȻØMⱣɆŦɆNŦ WȺSŦɆ ØF ȺƗɌ. ŦĦƗS ƗS WĦɎ Ɨ ĦȺVĘ ŦØ ǤɆŦ ŦWØ ȺSSƗSŦȺNŦS."

Papermint trembles as sparks of electricity emanating from his angry boss fly toward him, "S-Sorry, Sir! I'll bring them in right away!".

Vox rolls his eyes as Papermint goes to fetch his next victim applicant. You open the door and walk in with a warm smile, the mere sight of you causing Vox to choke on his own spit.

“Hi Mr. Vox! I’m here for the interview.”

—

You place your resume on his desk and sit down on the chair in front of it. The wires in Vox’s head nearly short circuit, unable to comprehend you. You clear your throat in an attempt to cut the initial tension and silence, “Ahem-“

The TV Demon snaps out of his trance and picks up your resume, “Ah, Miss Y/N! Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too, Sir!”

“Please,” he flashes a charming grin, “Call me Vox, doll.”. You smile and nod, “Nice to meet you, Vox.”. The sound of his name on your lips sent shivers down Vox's spine.

He regains his composure and clears his throat, “So, I see you have some experience assisting other overlords. What made you want to be a co-assistant to me at Voxtech?". “I’m sorry, co-assistant?” you ask.

“Yes,” Vox gestures to Papermint standing idly in a corner, “This one over here will also be my assistant. You’ll handle the more personal needs of mine while Papermint handles more business-related needs.”. “I see."

Vox, completely entranced by you, puts your resume down and extends a hand out to you across the desk, “Well, that’s all I really need! Congratulations! You got the job!”. Winning sound effects could be heard from Vox’s speakers as he congratulated you. “Oh! I-Is that it..? No questions..?” you inquire. Was he joking? “Nope, I’ve seen enough," he states firmly.

"Actually," a sly smile creeps out from his teeth, "what size are you?”

“Uh, why?”

“For your uniform of course!”

— You could've sworn the uniform you received was 1-2 sizes smaller than you said you were. The uniform consists of a navy and turquoise pinstripe mini skirt, a low-cut white blouse fitted with a red tie, and black sheer stockings. “I look like one of those clown robot sex toy things…”. Looking in the mirror, you felt very exposed... It wasn't any more slutty than the stuff you'd usually wear, but that was exactly the problem. Why was your work uniform so revealing? You looked like one of Valentino's pornstars rather than a Voxtech employee. No doubt, you looked killer. But, it's still very strange.

"Eh... Whatever. I'm overthinking it." you reassure yourself. __

"Yes, YES! SHE'S PUTTING IT ON!". Vox presses his face against the screen as he watches you through his monitors. He had gotten an employee to stash hidden cameras in your apartment immediately after your interview. The cameras he used for you were the ones he used for spying on Alastor. It's time for someone new to obsess over, someone better. More attainable.

“Fuck, that’s hot…” Vox's pants start to stretch uncomfortably as he continues watching you. His eyes stay glued to the screen, gaze lingering on the exposed skin peeking out through the skimpy clothing.

His hand travels down to the large concealed bulge, palming himself slowly before looking at the time. “SHIT, She’s gonna be here in an hour!.”. The TV demon springs up from his seat and makes his way to the modeling floor of the Vee Tower.

"I don't have time for this!" Velvette exclaims, walking away from Vox. "Come on, Vel," he pleads, "just this once! You do it for Valentino all the time!". She stops in her tracks, turning on her heels sharply to face him, "That's because Valentino has a make-up-applicable face! Not a screen!". Vox chases after her as she walks away. "Velvette," he says with a nervous chuckle, "who said anything about makeup, my dear? Just a little touch-up would be nice!". "If I say yes will you leave me alone?" she asks. "Absolutely!"

Velvette gets some of her workers and assigns them to give Vox a makeover. The employees adorn him in the finest colognes and do his skincare (which is honestly just screen wipes). They tailor his suit to make sure it fits extra perfect and hugs all the right spots. His claws get a nice manicure, having them sharpened and polished to perfection. He's getting all dolled up just for you!

Vox waits patiently in his office for you to arrive, a wide grin on his face as he stares at the door.

Unfortunately, you were running a bit late. Traffic in the entertainment district was brutal at 7:00am, everyone's trying to get to work at this hour you suppose. You wish you had known this prior to your first day, but you usually never wake up before 9:00 so you've never seen the morning traffic. Running late on your first day? Very professional.

To make things worse, when you did finally pull in for work, some jackass parked in your designated spot. Prick. You managed to find a spot down the street and quickly back into the space. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you then hop out of your car and sprint down the street as fast as possible.

You never were much of a runner, but determination set you off into a pace you've never reached before. Pushing open the doors, you find the elevators. A crowd of people huddles around it as they all await the next lift. Fuck that. You dart to the stairs and climb them with all your might. 40 flights. Maybe you should've waited for the elevator.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, you sluggishly pull yourself up the next step. You take a moment to collect yourself and take some deep breaths before running into his office. Bursting open the doors, you sprint down the walkway yelling, "I'M HERE!".

"I *wheeze* am soooooo sorry for being late sir," you apologize, hoping you weren't automatically fired for this, "traffic was horrible and someone took my spot and I'm so sorry, sir!".

Vox had patiently waited an hour in his office for you, anxiously waiting your arrival. Paranoid thoughts of you not showing up ate away at him as he stared at the door in front of him, waiting for you to walk in in all of your glory. His smile never faded, of course, his customary showman grin plastered on his face. Occasionally, he'd glance into the reflection of a monitor, checking his appearance. Did he look good enough? He sure hoped he did.

And then, finally, you come bustling through the door. Your hair is messy, loose strands falling from your neat ponytail. The uniform was a bit disheveled, but still. Holy shit.

The TV demon chuckles softly, putting up a hand to stop your rambling, "No worries, my dear, I understand.". How could he ever be mad at you? To him, you're absolute perfection. "Really?" a smile spreads across your face. "Thank you so much, sir," you beam, "it won't happen again I promise!".

"It better not!" he teases, a bark of laughter escaping him. "You know," he adds, "to avoid this little issue again, why don't I give you a ride sometime?". "No no," you protest, waving your hands as a declining gesture, "I couldn't ask you to go out of your way to do that. I'm supposed to assist you.". "Nonsense, my dear," he insists, "it wouldn't be out of the way at all!".

He's certainly very accommodating to you, but why? Wasn't he supposed to be the infamous horrifying TV overlord you've heard all about? Maybe it's just exaggerated gossip, after all, he seemed like a nice guy! Maybe too nice. "But, don't you live here..? Wouldn't it be a little inconvenient to drive all the way to my place and back?".

You got him there, he really had no reason to go out of his way for that without raising suspicion. His smile falters slightly, his voice a bit quieter now, "Yes, of course. That makes more sense...". It goes quiet for a moment, Vox projecting sweat on his screen as he's nervous that he already screwed everything up.

He clears his throat and throws on a fake grin, "Anyways! How about we get you started on your first task, hm?". You nod, grabbing out your notepad and pen, and getting ready to write down whatever he says.

"Let's see," he taps a sharp turquoise claw to his screen, "how about you start with running a few errands for me? I'll write down a list of groceries for you to fetch. Vox jots down a few items on a post-it and rips it off before handing it to you. You grab the list and nod, "Yes, Mr. Vox.".

Truthfully, he didn't want you to do anything. Preferably, he'd have you perched on his lap like a pretty little trophy. But alas, that wasn't exactly a normal thing to ask of your new employee so, he settled with groceries for now.

Heading back into your car, you drive to the store of choice, Hellwhon. Personally, you think that store is gaudy and outrageously overpriced. But, hey, if you were as rich as Vox you'd probably shop there too! "Alright. Sushi, dolphin meat, coffee beans, and redbull..." you repeat to yourself, trying to memorize the list of bizarre groceries. Man, rich people are weird…

Despite your opinions on the abnormality of the upper class, you happily comply in buying the groceries.

Unbeknownst to you, Vox had been watching you the whole time. Street lamps, drones, security cameras, etc., were all Voxtech-owned and therefore can be monitored by the TV demon himself. All eyes were on you.

Alastor, his previous infatuation, was now completely disregarded by Vox. He cleared out his shrine of the Radio Demon and made way for a new one, you. Only you, always you. Previous body pillows, photos, and posters of Alastor were replaced by custom-made merch of you.

He'd taken screenshots of you from his surveillance cameras and plastered them onto body pillows. Nude, clothed, and uniformed photos of your likeness got printed and sent to a VoxTech manufacturer for some poor employee to make. The TV demon spent hundreds of dollars on products in your likeness: candles with your face on them, framed photos, etc. His infatuation is growing, and it's growing fast.

__ Heavy grocery bags fill your arms as you approach the V tower. Pressing your back against the heavy glass doors, you struggle to open them. Vox's other assistant, Papermint, notices your struggle from the lobby and hastily opens the door for you. "Thank you," you breathe out. He nods and gestures for the groceries, "N-No problem! Let me get that for you-". You turn your arms away, "Oh, I've got it. Thanks though!".

As much as you wanted help, you had to do it on your own You needed to prove yourself after showing up an hour late on your first day. Vox needs to know that you're capable of this job!

Your arms start to give out the longer you hold the heavy plastic bags. "Fuck," you mutter to yourself, "why didn't I just accept his help?". After an agonizing wait in the crowded elevator, you finally reach the penthouse floor.

Scurrying across the penthouse, you reach the high-tech, lavish kitchen. You sort all the groceries into their respective cupboards or shelves, except the dolphin meat, you weren't sure where that hell went.

Vox's head snaps towards the door as he hears you enter his office. "Hi, Mr. Vox," you say with a wide smile, "so sorry to bother I just have a quick question...". Vox beams as you enter, turning his full attention to you, "Yes, Doll?". "I wasn't sure what to do with this," you gesture to the package of dolphin meat. "Oh, right," he explains, striding closer towards you. He gestures his arms to the array of sharks surrounding his below office, “It’s for the fish, of course!”.

Right, the "fish". He glances down at the techy sharks before looking back at you, "Wanna feed them?". His eyes light up at the prospect of this. A hot, sexy woman feeding his precious little sharks?! He fought the urge to fuck you then and there.

"Uh," you hesitate, having the slightest fear of sharks, "maybe another time.". "C'mon," he insists, stepping closer to you. Large hands find the small of your back and guide you to the edge of the platform. "They won't bite..." he whispers in your ear softly, his hot breath hitting your skin.

Fuck. You couldn't say no now! Not with your boss all insistent and close to you like this. You swallow as you brace yourself to face your fears. Glancing down at the package of dolphins, you struggle to tear open the plastic wrap. Maybe if you procrastinated enough with the packaging, he'd let it go and get his soft hands off your waist. Shit, were you turned on or scared? Either way you needed to get this over with ASAP!

Taking a step forward, Vox reluctantly releases his grip on you. You hold out the food far out in front of you and plop it into the water. Sharks splash and surround the meat, fighting viciously for it.

You shuffled back rapidly away from the aquarium and bumped into your boss, "Shit!". His firm chest presses up against your back, hands gripping your waist to keep you in place. "Careful now, sweetheart," he whispers in a husky voice. Fuck, that was hot.

You quickly regain your composure and step back to maintain a professional distance between the two of you, "Yes, sir! I-I'm so sorry!". "No apology necessary, Doll," he says with half-lidded eyes and a casual smile. You were for sure fired for this, despite his reassuring words. You were late, reluctant to do what he asked, and now you're kind of turned on by your boss. What kind of assistant are you?! "I guess I'll get back to work. A-Anything you need? Coffee? Tea?".

"Hm," he ponders for a moment, "do me a favor and organize the pantry in my penthouse.". "Yes, sir!" you say, quickly running out of his office and to his penthouse. Phew. Finally, you're out of that humiliating situation.

Vox didn't need his pantry organized. His penthouse is practically spotless! Truthfully, he just needed you occupied for a while so he could revel in the lingering scent of you on his clothes. As soon as you're out of sight, he scrambles to his desk and whips out his surveillance footage. He'd already had his favorite clips of you compiled into a file named "<3". In said file, there are various videos of you roaming around doing routine tasks. He'd save it into the file whenever you looked particularly cute or ravishing.

Vox scrolls through the file and clicks on different videos and screenshots compiled in it. "Hnnf, yes," he moans out, unbuckling his belt with haste. He quickly slides down his pants and boxers, freeing his aching navy cock. Pre-cum leaked through his tip and slid down the side of his hefty shaft. Shrugging his coat off, he sniffs the place where you'd been previously pressed against. He takes in the scent, trying to smell every trace of your scent that lingered on his clothes.

His hand wraps around his length and squeezes tightly. He closes his eyes as he pumps himself, imagining your pretty little hand wrapped around him, "Fuck, Y/N... That's it, Doll...". The pace of his movements increases while inhaling your scent on his jacket with desperate fervor. Prying his eyes open, he looks at the monitor displaying your likeness.

He drops the jacket and reaches for his computer mouse. Scrolling through the file, he finds the video he's looking for, a video of you in the shower. A grin spreads across the TV demon's screen, "Hah, fuck... So fucking perfect, gonna make you mine.". He pumps his hand faster, hips bucking into his own hands as he chases his release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck FUUCK," buckets of cum pour all over his hand as his orgasm crashes over him.

He grabs a couple wipes and cleans himself up, wishing he had you there to lick him clean. Slumping back into the chair, a frown spreads across his face. His focus is fixed on the screen with longing in his eyes. Staring at the monitors, he reaches out, putting a hand onto the screen, "Why can't you be mine...?".

The rest of the week droned on pretty monotonously. Despite a few tasks that would take you tops 5 minutes here and there, you didn't have much to do. You'd insist on helping Vox with whatever, but rest assured, he always claimed that there was simply nothing to do. And while it's great to sit around all day in your Boss's fancy office, it does get boring and a little strange. Why did Vox even hire you in the first place? It seemed like he didn't need you.

One day, you're out on a coffee run for Vox. Of course, he insisted that you buy something for yourself on him. You make your way down to the food court in the lobby and grab two coffees, one large black coffee, and a small iced latte. On your way back, you run into Vox's other assistant, Papermint. "Hey," you greet him, "how's it going?".

The demon looked nervous and stressed out. He gives you a shaky smile, "H-Hey there.". He almost immediately darts away after he speaks. You follow after him, "Wait up!". Why'd he run away from you? Did you say something wrong?

He stops in his tracks and sighs, unaware of the fact that you're right behind him. You tap him on the shoulder. The sinner jumps at the contact of your hand on his back, "Ah! Y-You're still here...". He nervously chuckles, to which you raise an eyebrow, "Uh, yeah! I was hoping to chat, actually. I'm pretty bored around here.". He stammers, "B-Bored? H-Here?". "Uh huh..." you confirm. Maybe you should've let this guy run away, he didn't seem very stable-

"Y-You're not tasked with an impossible list of things to do?!" he asks, gripping your shoulders tightly. "What, no? I've barely had anything to do all week!" you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his grip. He realizes his intense embrace and lets you go, eyes scanning the surrounding area as if he were making sure nobody was watching. Papermint leans in closely and whispers, "You're telling me you have had no work?". You nod. He takes a deep breath, speaking in a strained voice, "I have had the same, if not more, work than before. Hiring you was supposed to alleviate some of my workload...".

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. He shakes his head, "No, it's not your fault...". Whipping his head back, he looks at the security camera facing directly toward him, "C-Crap, I've got to go!". Before you can protest, he darts out of sight, the camera turning its head to follow his every move.

What the fuck was that?

__ A scowl forms on Vox's face as he watches you and Papermint through the live security feed, "I thought I told that քʀɨƈӄ to never speak to you...". His eyes stay fixed on the screen, electricity sparking from his screen as his anger simmers. It seems Papermint needs a "friendly talking to".

You made your way back up to Vox's office a bit after your strange encounter with Papermint. Balancing the two coffees in one arm, you used the other arm to push open the office door. The door doesn't budge open. Huh, weird...

Pressing your ear to the door, you hear yelling and the commotion of objects being thrown. You can't exactly make out what's being said, however, it was clear Vox was the one yelling. He sounded pissed.

Moments later, you hear the yelling stop, along with footsteps getting louder as they reach the door. Stepping back from the door, Papermint emerges, bruised and limping, sporting a dark black eye. You reach your hand out to him, to which he flinches. "Are you-" Before you can finish, his eyes widen in fear, and he limps away as fast as he can.

Shit, was this your fault? You were supposed to be picking up Papermint's slack. He probably got in trouble for wasting time and talking to you. Maybe you should talk to Vox about picking up your dead weight...

A shakey hand reaches out to push open the door, a determined look on your face. Vox is hunched over his desk, the room disheveled with a few objects lying broken on the floor. "Sir?"

He turns over with a deranged look. His expression softens as he sees you, a smile stretching across his face as he straightens his posture, "Ah, there you are! My favorite assistant? What do you need, Doll?". "Actually," you take a deep breath, stealing yourself for the conversation ahead, "I wanted to talk about something.". He tilts his head and nods, gesturing for you to continue.

"Well, I-I want to start doing more around here. I feel like I don't do much," looking up at him, you try to gauge his reaction. He sighs, narrowing his eyes as he speaks, "Did Papermint say something to try to guilt trip you into doing more work? Because if he did I-".

"No, no, no!" you interrupt. You start pacing in small circles as you find the words to express yourself, "What I mean is, I feel as if I don't do enough. I-I'm your assistant, I want to assist you... and I guess I feel as if I'm failing...".

Terror flashes across Vox's face. Failing?! His perfect little assistant?! The last thing he wanted to do was make you feel bad, he just wanted you to relax at work instead of stressing out over work, "What? No, uh, here! I'll assign you something very important!". A wave of relief washes over you, "Really?". He nods, chuckling nervously as he scrambles to find a task for you. Scrolling through the calendar on his computer, he finds something for you to do, "Ah, here we are!". He turns to you with a composed grin, "I have a meeting today at 4:00. Now, I understand that it's last minute, and it's not the type of duties that you usually do-". "I'll do it!" you say with a smile.

Vox lets out a satisfied hum, "Good girl.". He clacks away on his keyboard for a moment before turning back to face you, "I've sent you an email regarding all the information you'll need to present at the meeting.". "Great! You won't regret this Mr. Vox!" you beam.

As you step into the conference room, a sense of purpose fills the air. The long table, polished to a shine, invites collaboration, while the chairs await their occupants. You methodically arrange the seating, making sure everyone will have a comfortable spot and a good view of the presentation.

Eventually, a few of VoxTech's affiliates walk in and wait for you to present. "Hi, I'm Y/N," you introduce with a wide smile, "I'll be here in place of Vox today!". A couple of the demons give you a skeptical look. "Rest assured, I know everything there is to know! So if you'd just look over here," you point to the presentation displayed on the flatscreen at the head of the room.

As you present, you find yourself reaching over the table often, causing the skimpy uniform to ride up in the back. And while you tried to fix it, it looked a bit odd for you to fidget with your skirt hem every 5 seconds. So, you let it ride up. Nobody would see you anyway since they're faced the opposite way, so no worries! Right?

Vox leaned back in his office chair, his eyes glued to the live feed on his computer monitors. You were currently bent over the conference table, your short skirt riding up and exposing the skin of your ass as you worked diligently on the presentation. Vox's needy cock twitches in his trousers at the sight, his mind filled with dirty fantasies.

He imagines running his hands over your toned body, gripping your hips as he fucks you hard against the table. He reaches down to unzip his pants, freeing the heavy erection from the confines of his pants. His cock springs out as he pulls down his boxers, beads of pre-cum leaking from the turquoise tip.

His breathing grew heavier as he watched you, imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to that beautiful body... Bend you over the desk and pound into your tight cunt until you scream. Suck on those perfect tits while he fingered your dripping slit... make you beg for his cock like the desperate slut you are…

Vox starts stroking himself, "Fuck, so pretty...". He whimpers as he pumps his cock faster, watching as more and more of your ass unknowingly gets exposed. Pressing a button, the segment clips and loops over and over. Releasing his shaft, he opens a cabinet where a body pillow of you is stuffed inside. Positioning the pillow of you under him, he starts humping the pillow, rubbing his shaft against the soft fabric.

His eyes flicker back to the screen, a dopey blissed-out smile across his face, "Hnnf, so naughty... Showing off for me like that...". Hips buck against the pillows vigorously as he approaches orgasm. Unbridled moans and grunts leave his lips, not bothering to keep his voice down in case others might hear. With a final thrust, cum shoots across the pillow, painting your printed self.

Slumping against the chair, he wipes the cum off himself and the pillow with a tissue, "Let's get you all cleaned up, Princess.". With a satisfied sigh, he tenderly gathers the used tissues, disposing of them discreetly in the wastebasket at his feet. Then, cradling the soiled pillow close, he brings it to his face, he inhales deeply as if trying to somehow get your scent. A contented smile plays on his lips as he nestles the pillow against him, the soft fabric relaxing his body after the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a moment, he relaxes, sitting perched on the chair as he cuddles the pillow. But soon enough, reality sets in. With a sigh, he tucks the soiled pillow away in a dresser drawer and pulls up his pants. He grimaces, realizing his underwear is damp from precum. Ugh, he needs to do laundry. Grabbing both the pillowcase and his soiled boxers, he strides out of his office and makes his way up the elevator to his penthouse. __

Meanwhile, the meeting had gone very well! Despite the minor wardrobe malfunction, you got through your presentation quickly and efficiently! Hopefully, this alleviated at least one task of Papermint's plate... every time you thought of what happened to him you got a horrible stomach ache.

You clean up the conference room and head to Vox's office with news from how the meeting went. Damn it, the door's locked again! Trepidation filled you as the worst possible scenario plagued your thoughts. Did Papermint get in trouble because of you again?!

You listen in through the door and hear a loud voice. However, it wasn't exactly yelling... it was more akin to moaning. "The fuck's going on in there?" you mutter to yourself. An unnerving chill crawls down your spine, "Ugh, I don't even want to know.".

Instead, you take the elevator to his penthouse and make yourself busy there, cleaning, organizing, and whatever else that could keep you busy.

__ Vox walks into the penthouse, panic settling in as he sees you cleaning the sink. Quickly hiding the cum-soaked items behind his back, he flashes a nervous grin. "Oh! H-Hey! What are you doing here?" he asks with a nervous chuckle.

You set down the dish in your hand and smile, "Just cleaning up. You were busy in your office so I occupied myself with some tasks.". The color nearly drains from his screen as you mention him being "busy" in his office, "Right right... You didn't happen to walk into my office, did you?". You shake your head no. "Good, good," he says with a relieved sigh.

The two of you stand there in silence for a moment, neither of you knowing what to say. Vox shuffles awkwardly to the side towards the laundry room, "Don't mind me, I just need to wash a few things.". Tearing off a paper towel, you dry off your hands, "Oh! Let me do that for you-". You walk towards him but he backs away, "No!" he blurts out louder than intended. "I- Ahem, what I mean is," he starts sweating, nervous that you'll find out about his perverted venture, "I can wash them myself! No need to halt your duties, my dear.". "Uh, okay..." you comply, confused about why he's so adamant about this. What's he hiding?

Vox walks backward into the laundry room, shutting the door in front of him with an awkward kick. "Alright, that was super normal," you mutter to yourself sarcastically, "just another normal day with my normal boss."

Walking back to the sink, you resume cleaning the dishes. After around 5 minutes, Vox walks out of the laundry room, checking you out from behind. A husky low voice calls out from behind you, "Bye, Doll.". You turn your head back and see Vox standing by the door. "Bye, Mr. Vox," you reply with a polite smile.

The TV demon practically melted into a puddle at your warm expression. He takes one last longing look at you before leaving the penthouse __

An hour or so passes, and you hear the beeping of the washing machine. At first, you ignore the sound. You really should respect your boss' privacy. The machine continues to beep, the relentless noise testing your nosy tendencies.

Maybe you could just switch the clothes into the dryer, that wouldn't be nosy! It'd be the responsible thing to do as his assistant. Once you justify your snooping, you walk into the laundry room with an air of confidence in your decisions.

The door of the washing machine swings open. Hmm, it just looks like a few pieces of clothing. You reach out and grab the wet articles of fabric. The first one you look at is a simple pair of navy boxers. 'Pft, maybe he pissed himself or something,' you chuckle at the thought.

The discovery sends a chill down your spine as you inspect the pillow, fingers brushing against the soft fabric. It was you. A bizarre photo of you that you hadn't seen before. A wave of nausea washes over you as you take in the unmistakable resemblance - the same shade of hair, the curve of your neck, even the subtle blemishes in your skin. Your mind reels, trying to process this unsettling discovery. Why would Vox keep such a disturbing object? Was it some kind of fetish of his? Your breath comes in short gasps as you stare at the pillow, your eyes tracing over the photo that evokes a haunting familiarity.

Suddenly, a hand grabs at your waist and another at your neck. "You really weren't supposed to see that," the familiar whisper sends a chill down your spine. You try to explain yourself, but you can't seem to find the words. Your flight or fight response kicks in. Flight.

You attempt to pry yourself from his firm hold on you, but your attempts are futile. "You're not going anywhere, princess," he stares into your eyes with his hypnotic red glowing eye. Your vision blurs, your mind going numb as the room starts to spin.

Your eyes blink open, your head throbbing as you wake up. Looking around, the surroundings were familiar of sorts, you just couldn't put it together. Your fuzzy mind works overtime to figure out where you are. It's a bedroom. A lavish one at that. It's sleek and modern and, frankly, quite boring. Blue and red accents are scattered around the room. Blue and red... Wait, this is Vox's bedroom. In that instant, everything became clear — the cloth covering your mouth, the ropes bound around your waist and wrists, securing you to the chair.

"Someone's awake," a voice coos into your ear. Your muffled screams do nothing to help you, the TV demon looking back at you with an unfazed grin. A single tear rolls down your cheek, fearing the worst. Would he kill you? Would he torture you?

"Shh, don't cry," he wipes the tear off your cheek with his thumb, hand cradling your face as he tries to soothe you, "You're safe with me, don't worry, Doll.". Safe?! Was that a joke?! You shoot him a glare.

He cups your face in his hands, "Don't look at me like that, Y/N.". Tracing a finger along your jawline, he tilts your face up towards him, "You look beautiful like this, all tied up and helpless.". Fear twists your stomach into knots as you meet Vox's gaze, searching for any hint of humanity in his eyes. His claws rake through your hair, hands finding the knot at the back of the cloth. He unties it, freeing your mouth from the confines of the tight fabric. "What do you want from me?!" you gasp out.

Vox chuckled, the sound sending a chill down your spine, "Oh, princess, I think you know exactly what I want. I've wanted it for so long now.". His fingers drifted lower, brushing against the top of your breast through your blouse.

Trepidation and anxiety course through your veins, sweat building up on your skin. You try to squirm away, but the ropes binding you to the chair only dig deeper into your skin, making you wince. "Please, stop..." you whisper helplessly.

"C'mon, don't try to deny how enticing life with me would be," he explains in a low voice, "I'd take care of you, you wouldn't have to worry about work or money ever again.". He circles around behind you, soft hand massaging your shoulders as he speaks into your ear, "You wouldn't have to live in that crappy apartment anymore. No more worrying about rent, food, anything. It'd all be taken care of.". You turn your head and meet his gaze, your expression unconvinced. He scowls at your expression, red rings appearing in his eye in a pattern. Shit, he's trying to hypnotize you. You have to fight it.

"You will be mine. Your role here at VoxTech has changed, alright?" he commands, the once repulsive idea now sounding strangely enticing. You close your eyes and shake your head, "No! Stop, you can't manipulate me like this.". He scoffs, tired of hearing your rejections, "Oh, be serious! Do you really wanna live out the rest of your afterlife being nothing? Face it, without me, you can't get out of the dull life you have.". As much as you wanted to yell at him, tell him he was wrong, you didn't... You hated yourself for even considering his deal. On one hand, you'd be with someone unfathomably unstable... on the other, you'd be financially stable for the first time in your life... you'd be protected and loved, something you've never had. "...Fine," you hesitantly agree.

Vox reaches out to untie the rope around you, "Good girl.". He takes your hand and guides you to his bed, sitting you down on his lap, "See? That wasn't so hard.". He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, "This is where you belong, Doll. Isn't that right?".

He takes note of your lack of response, grabbing your chin roughly to look at him, "Answer me when I talk to you.". Swallowing your pride, you nod, "Okay.". Vox releases his grip on your chin and smiles softly. He moves in closer and kisses you tenderly while combing his claws through your hair. His kisses were surprisingly soft and loving, yet you couldn't bring yourself to kiss him back.

Hands snake down to your blouse, unbuttoning it until your chest is exposed. Grabbing your wrists, he guides your hands to his jacket, silently asking you to undress him as well. You comply, sliding the jacket off his torso and reaching around his neck to unite his bowtie. The TV demon watches you with adoring eyes, biting his lip softly at the sight. To him, doing this was a sign that you actually wanted him.

"Arms up," you command softly. He obeys with a delighted smile. Slipping the vest over his head, you take off his dress shirt and discard the clothes onto the floor. His chest was surprisingly toned... Not a bad sight to be honest.

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Like what you see?”. You roll your eyes. Vox smirks and leans in for another kiss, mashing his lips against yours feverishly. He moans softly against your lips, laying you down on the bed until he's hovering over you.

Hands trail down your chest and to your skirt, pulling it down with your stockings and panties. Once fully undressed, his eyes widen with admiration, gently reaching out to cup your breast in his palm, "Finally... Mine".

Vox kneads your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peak into hard little buds. Leaning down, Vox captures your lips in a brutal kiss, forcing his tongue past your teeth to claim your mouth.

"I've dreamed of this," Vox rasps against your skin, his free hand sliding down to grasp your thigh. Your body betrays you, an uncomfortable slick building between your thighs, causing you to squirm. He smiles softly at your fidgeting, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you, princess.". His fingers find your sensitive nub, rubbing firm circles that send shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your core. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction and more pressure.

Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as the coil of tension within you winds tighter. Vox's fingers never faltered, driving you closer to the brink with each passing second. Suddenly, Vox withdrew his hand, leaving you panting and aching with need. You whine softly. "Not yet, Doll," he whispers, "we have all night, and I intend to make every moment count.".

He sits up, legs on either side of you as he unbuttons his trousers and pulls down the zipper. Sliding off his pants, he discards them onto the heap of clothing on the floor. He now sits before you in his boxers, the outline of his hardened cock visible through the fabric. Pre-cum soaking the stretched underwear, your eyes fixed on the damp spot.

The TV demon hooks his claws under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down hastily without hesitation. His cock springs free, the erect member standing tall against his stomach. Vox's cock is impressive, thick, and long, with a prominent vein running along its underside. It's a terrifying and tantalizing sight, the girthy head flushed a bright turquoise, a stark contrast to his navy shaft. The tip leaks beads of pre-cum that glisten in the dim light. He climbs over you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Behold, Doll... My body, a testament to my love for you.".

His hands grab your thighs and spread them apart, revealing your slick pussy to him. He pushes into you slowly, filling your needy hole completely, "Hnnf, so fucking tight.". Hips rock into yours at a leisurely pace, savoring every moment of this. His cock filled you entirely and hit your g-spot just right. You couldn't help the moans that fell from your lips with each thrust.

A smile spreads across his face as he pants, pistoning harder into you now. His fingers find your swollen bud and gather some slick onto it. He rubs slow circles, the added stimulation bringing you closer to orgasm.

He keeps pounding into you, each thrust sending shivers through both their bodies. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your soft moans, his eyes locked onto yours. His movements became faster, more erratic as he neared his peak. Lewd wet sounds filled the room as he slammed his cock inside of you, "Say you love me...". "Wha?" you look at him confused. "S-Say it!" he commands shakily, his rhythm slowing as if threatening to stop.

"F-Fuck, okay, I love you.".

He reaches up to hold your hand against the bed, fingers intertwining with yours, "Love you more...". Your hips buck up to meet his, craving release. With a loud grunt, Vox buried himself deep inside you as he came, filling you up with his hot seed. Your orgasm follows soon after, walls clenching around his spent cock. His body trembled against yours as he rode out his climax, collapsing on top of you.

The two of you take a moment to collect yourselves before Vox rolls beside you, a giddy smile on his face. You roll over to face him and immediately get pulled onto his chest, hugging you suffocatingly tight. What have you gotten yourself into? Before you can let the regret set in, you fall asleep.

"Goodnight, my love.".

Sunlight creeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his bedroom, causing you to stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, still intertwined with Vox. "Shit, what have I done?" you whisper to yourself, dragging your hand down your face. Maybe you could just leave, change your name, and never come to this sector of the pride ring ever again. Carefully, you untwine your body from Vox's and hop off the bed, gathering your clothes off the floor. You slide on your skirt when large hands grab at your waist. "Where do you think you're going~" a raspy voice asks from behind you. Shit, you got caught. "I, uhm-".

Vox cuts you off and pulls you back into bed with him, "You're not going anywhere, my dear... You belong to me now, only me.". His grip on you was tight and relentless, no way of escape now. You lay there staring at the ceiling, remorse causing your stomach to ache. There's no chance Vox was gonna let you go now, no, now that he had you you'd belong to him forever.

The End.

__ I HOPE YGS LIKED THIS ONE!! PT.2 MAYBE LOL IF YGS WANT IT WKEFBHKWEFWKBHF. my mind is FRIEDDD so if i randomly repeated stuff or spelt some shit embarrassingly wrong im sorry.

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@janussillyprompts, @leonotlara

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