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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 57 (Human Alastor x Widowed Reader)

CW: Blood, smut AN: Upcoming bonus chapter Wednesday for MisD's birthday! We're $5 toward the next bonus chapter! Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Want a bonus chapter on Wednesday? Unlock it via KoFi updates! More information here

Alastor held you to him as both of your bodies shook, coming down together from the highs of pleasure. Looking up at him, you couldn’t get past how handsome he was or the feeling of being so truly his. You’d given everything to him now. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t claimed. 

Inside you, his cock softened slowly as he held you.

Finally, you had laid with him as a woman lays with her husband. Alastor had given you everything he had to give, including his seed and your freedom.

“What do we do now?” Your fingers trembled as you reached out, scared to touch the blood drying on his face. “Oh, my god. Alastor, I- I killed him.” 

“Yes,” Alastor’s hand wrapped around yours, pressing your palm against his cheek. “We killed him. You’re free now.” 

Panic flooded through you, giving you a whole new reason to tremble in his arms. You were a murderess. Alastor, he was alright, but what would he think when it set in for him? Through the panic, every time you closed your eyes, you saw his hand over yours, helping you hold the blade steady. 

You had to trust in him.

“First, we need to wash this blood off us and burn our clothes. Then we’ll figure out the rest of it.” 

Your legs were numb as you stood, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Water roared as it filled the tub. The bright electric lights only made the drying blood on your skin, soaked into your dress, stand out more. 

Nausea rolled through you in waves as you looked down at your hands. Blood stained your wedding ring, just like seemingly every part of you. The back of your dress stuck to you, glued in place by drying blood. 

“Cher?” Alastor’s voice cut through the fog in your mind. 

You turned mechanically to see him unbuttoning his shirt. The brown was dark, stained with your husband’s blood in places. Blood smeared down his neck and onto his chest from where it had run down from his face. 

It was your husband’s blood that coated his hands as he worked his belt free. His pants fell to the ground as your eyes examined him unashamedly, taking in every dip of muscle. Bright red marks on his ribs told you where he had taken blows. Those marks would likely deepen into dark bruises that would be tender for days. 

Alastor hummed a soft tune as he walked over to you. The musical sound of his voice wrapped around you as his nimble fingers worked the buttons down your dress. Your stomach rolled as he peeled the bloody fabric off your skin, leaving you standing in front of him in your slip. 

With a simple brush of his fingers, that layer of fabric, too, should have fallen to the ground. Instead, like your dress, the drying blood that coated your back held it in place. It didn’t seem to bother Alastor in the slightest as he tugged the fabric off your body.

“You’re bleeding,” Alastor knelt as he guided your panties down your legs. You hadn’t noticed that some of the blood you wore was not Laurence’s. “If- I didn’t want to hurt you. You should have-” 

“No,” you leaned into his chest as he stood up, pressing your bare front into him as you wrapped your arms around his back. “You didn’t, not really. I wanted it. I wanted you to.” 

“You’re not supposed to bleed.” Alastor’s cheek rested against your head. “You should never bleed.” 

“I nearly always do,” you tried to brush it off. 

“It’s because he hurt you,” Alastor cupped your jaw and forced you to look up at him. “It won’t be that way with me.”

“Can we be together now? Really?” You couldn’t keep the fear from your voice. “Alastor we-” 

He shushed you while walking toward the bath with you tucked in his arms. “First, we wash the blood off, then we figure out how we’re getting out of this together.” 

“I should let you,” you tried to step back as Alastor stepped into the steaming bath. 

“Join me,” he finished for you. 

“Alastor, it’s-” you spoke as you stepped into the water in direct contrast to your protests. 

“Indecent?” Alastor chuckled, “less so for a widowed woman.” 

You offered no protests as he sank into the water, guiding you to rest in his arms. Red ribbons lifted from your hands as you moved them to rest on his chest. The water soaked into your skin, pulling up the evidence of your greatest sin. You couldn’t pull your eyes from the sight. 

“Close your yes,” Alastor’s voice was soft, floating into your ears through the steam. “Don’t look at it.” 

“I’m going to go to hell,” you whimpered. “Alastor, we-” 

His hand, hot and wet from the bath, tilted your chin up so that his lips could capture yours in a soft kiss. Your eyes closed with a flutter of lashes. A soft sigh slipped from between your parted lips as he pulled away. 

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice naked and thick with accent. “Just like that, darlin’. Stay just like that.” 

Alastor’s hands ran over your arm, caressing down until he threaded his fingers through yours. It took a bit for you to realize what he was doing as he worked his fingers around yours. While you sat, eyes closed, body pressed against his, he washed the blood from your hands. 

You turned, reading the pressure of his hands to straddle his lap. The hard tub bit into your knees. Warm hands ran up and down your back, splashing warm water up onto the blood that dried there.

“Lean back,” Alastor said, “I’ll hold you.” 

“What?” Your eyes fluttered open, eyes focusing on Alastor’s face. He had washed the blood from his face before the tub filled, but it still matted his hair into dark clumps.

“I was going to wash your hair for you.” 

You leaned forward intead. Pink water ran from your arms as you cupped water in your hands, carrying it up to Alastor’s head. He leaned his head back, fingers gripping your hips as he scooted down the tub, folding his legs more to allow him room to sink down. 

“Me first,” you said, as if he wasn’t already making room for you to work. 

He leaned his head back and sighed as you ran your fingers through his curls. You tried to tell yourself it was something else you were washing from his hair. More red ribbons spread out around his head, mixing into the pink bloodstained water. 

You continued to work your fingers through his hair, carefully splashing water up to work through all of his hair. His hands ran along your thighs and up your sides, taking in the feeling of you while you worked your fingers over his scalp. 

When was the last time anyone had washed his hair? It wasn’t something he allowed just anyone to do. Before you, it was just Mimzi he’d allowed to see his hair naturally. It took a few moments of thinking before Alastor realized the last person to wash his hair for him was, in fact, his mother. 

“There,” you whispered, realizing the fact that you were naked in the bath atop Alastor as his eyes slowly opened, locking on yours. “As clean as it’s going to get in this water.” 

“Your turn.” Alastor held you to him as he sat up. Water ran from his curls, dripping into the pink water. 

His large hand rested between your shoulder blades as he guided you to lean back. Your core pressed against him, sliding against his hips and pressing into his lower abdomen. Each passing minute had you more aware of his body moving against yours than you were of his hands running through your hair, spreading the strands out behind you in the water. 

A warm floral smell wrapped around you as he worked the liquid soap through your hair. He took his time working the lather through each strand, spending far longer than you would on the task. You didn’t mind. The oils from the plants in it worked hard to dampen the coppery tinge that lingered in the air. 

He watched the bloody water surround your body as the bubby suds floated away from you. It felt like he was living in his ideal world, you in his arms, with the lovely smell of blood and flowers hanging in the air. You were the most beautiful thing, surrounded in the bloody water, held in his arms, trusting him with your life. 

Under you, his cock twitched, stiffening with every beat of his mesmerized heart. When his hardening cock pressed intently up against the soft curve of your ass, his body was once again awakening with need. 

You gasped as he pressed up against you. Alastor’s lips descended on your neck. Soft kisses ran down your skin before he licked up your neck, tasting you. His muscles flexed as he moved, holding you tight while you ran your fingers over his chest. 

His name was a soft sigh on your lips as he caressed away the memory of your husband’s touch. When Alastor had washed away the memory of Laurence’s hands on your skin, you leaned into him. 

He accepted your kiss eagerly, matching your hunger as you rose off his lap slightly. Under you, his cock stood, no longer pinned down by your body. 

“Cher,” Alastor had to clear his throat before he could make any sound come out of his mouth. “Your body is healing. I don’t-” 

You moaned softly as you nestled yourself over his cock, the head of him pressing against your opening. He had made you feel so good and you craved that feeling again. 

“You need to heal.” Alastor’s voice was soft. It took much restraint to not allow his desire to seep into it. “There will be plenty of time-” 

Your velvety heat enveloped him, choking off his words as you sank lower down his shaft. His back arched and his head fell back, thumping against the tub as you nestled into his lap. 

It would be a lie to say there was no pain. Alastor was far more of a man than your husband had been in more ways than one. He stretched the healing tissue around him, pulling open the small rips Laurence left inside you before they had enough time to do much more than clot. 

You didn’t have to give your body to Alastor a second time. You didn’t have to give your body to anyone ever again. No one would ever hurt you again. Everything, at least for the moment, was your choice again. 

And your choice was to have him seated, hard and stiff inside you. 

Never had you imagined that a man could take a woman without having her under him. The very idea that you could give yourself to Alastor while in the man’s place was ludicrous and yet your back arched as he filled you from below. 

“Oh, Alastor.” You sighed as your body nestled down against his. He stretched you painfully. It was a pain you chouse, though. It was a pain you wanted. 

“Yes?” His hands gripped your hips. He had his eyes locked on you as you once again surrounded him in your heat. 

“It feels good.” Your hips rocked, testing the sensation. 

“What does?” He guided your hips up, encouraging you to lift on your knees before leading you to sink down his shaft again. 

“You,” your head fell back as you let him lead you. “Having you inside me. Being with you like this. Being with you at all.” 

It would have been a lie if Alastor told anyone that he didn’t want you at that moment. You moved in water stained with Laurence’s blood. He was taking you, being taken by you in a sea of pink. Each time you sank on him, the water splashed up. Pink water drops ran down your chest, hanging from the pebbled bud of your nipple. 

“You’re beautiful like this.” Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off you as you clumsily rode him. Your lips parted in gasping breaths each time he filled you. Fresh blood, though slight, spilled into the water from where your bodies joined. 

“Does it feel good to take your pleasure?” Alastor ran his hands, warm and wet, up your sides. “To use instead of being used?” 

“I’m sorry.” You curled into him, tucking yourself into his chest as shame washed over you. It wasn’t enough to stop the steady rise and fall of your hips. Water splashed and surged with your movements. “I’m so sorry,” 

“Cher,” Alastor pulled your face up as his other hand forced itself into the tight space between your bodies, seeking the nub of pleasure you ground into him each time you forced your protesting body down on his long cock. “I am for you to use. My pleasure is yours to take.” 

“Ah,” you cried out as he stroked the nerves. 

Each time you rose along his shaft, his hand followed. Pleasure built as you worked yourself onto him. Your fingers dug into his chest, nails scratching over his nipple as you tried to grip whatever was under hand as that breaking point only Alastor could take you to approached. 

The sharp sting of your nail over his nipple sent a shiver down his spine. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, splashing onto the ground as he thrust up into you. 

“Cher,” Alastor said as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him tighter. 

“Alastor,” you sighed into his neck as the pink sea of water in the tub surged around you with each thrust onto him. 

You were so close to shattering atop him. Tears gathered in your eyes as you chased the feeling, just out of reach. You wanted that explosion of pleasure that only Alastor could give you. There was only so much of the magical feeling that came with being with Alastor you could seem to muster up in the cramped tub. 

“Hold on to me,” Alastor said, fingers carding through your hair. 

He leaned forward. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, though you did not stop moving, chasing what was just out of reach. He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, stifling your movements in his lap. 

It took a few awkward moments before he reversed the roles and you were plunged into the cooling pink water. He braced an arm on the tub behind you, keeping your body from hitting the hard surface while his other arm swept behind your back. He held you steady as he thrust into you. 

Water surged and splashed as he pushed forward, giving you everything you struggled to give yourself. While you enjoyed the power you felt while being atop such a strong and powerful man, having him atop you stole the breath from your lungs. 

He held you in place just so, allowing himself to stimulate all of you with every deep thrust into your tight, sore body. You clung to him as the pleasure washed over you. Pulling back, he shifted his grip on you, giving you a chance to see the wide smile stretched on his handsome face. 

The smile unnerved you, though he didn’t give you long to dwell on it. He tucked you against his shoulder and moved with renewed energy. Water sloshed and surged as your fingers dug into his back, feeling the muscles work under his skin and the water drying until you were clutching him with all of your body. 

Your core fluttered as muscles spasmed. His name was a prayer of thanks and a blessing on your lips. Alastor showed you for the second time that day the pleasure of laying with a man you loved, who loved you. This was the world kept hidden from you, stolen from you. This was what you could have an unending supply of now that…

Alastor pulled you from the water as your body relaxed around him. He was still hard inside you as he stood, stepping out of the cooling pink water. You told yourself the water was pink from the soaps or the oils. That was why. It wasn’t… you didn’t just… in… 

“Cher.” Alastor’s voice stole your attention only for his lips to steal your thoughts. He kissed you with a hunger that ripped the breath from your lungs. Cold pebbled your nipples, brushing against the hard buds of his as he carried your wet, naked body through the hall. 

It was indecent. The sunlight flittered into the hall from the bedroom window. What you were doing, laying with Alastor as you were- these were things one does in the night or the early morning. This was not what a respectable woman did in the middle of the day.

Your back pressed against the wall, supporting your weight as Alastor adjusted his grip. He took the chance to thrust into you, taking you against the wall for a few moments. It wasn’t something you had realized was possible, but it had you wanting more of him. 

“Darlin’,” Alastor gasped out, his cock twitching hard as he seated himself fulling inside of you. “Baby. You’re warm. So wet for me.” 

“That’s what happens when you take a bath. You get wet.” You tried to put a sly smile on your lips, losing it the moment he plunged back into you. 

Alastor chuckled, face hidden in the crook of your neck. “Oh, this is a very different water soaking me.” 

You moaned as he pulled you from the wall, your weight settling heavier on the cock within you. The pain of him spreading your sore and healing walls was nearly forgotten now, replaced with a consuming need for more of him. 

He carried you easily, shifting your weight to bounce slightly on his twitching cock with every step he took. He bent, placing your back on the soft bedspread that you hated for so many years. Your hands ran over his shoulders, slipping down to caress his chest as he thrust into you one last time before stepping away. 

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[genderlessdude92]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 56 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Blood, murder, smut AN:Thanks to Lady and Midnight who, by your forces combined will be bringing you a bonus chapter today! Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Want a bonus chapter on Wednesday? Unlock it via KoFi updates! More information here

Trembling fingers held the knife as Alastor stood behind you. His hand wrapped around yours, helping you keep your grip tight on the bloody hilt. The pressure of his chest against your back, expanding with each breath he took, reassured you, along with the arm he held wrapped around your waist. His heart hammered against his chest with such force you could feel its beats.

“We’ll do it together,” Alastor whispered in your ear. “You don’t have to do it alone, but you have got to do it.” 

“I have to do it,” you whispered, lips numb as tears ran down your face. 

“Yes, my love.” Alastor soothed, stepping forward and pushing you closer to the groaning man on the floor of the office. “You have to do it. Just this last step and then you’re free of him.” 

“I can be free?” You were shaking in his arms as you took a step independent of Alastor, wild wide eyes locked on the man you swore to love in sickness and in health, laying on the floor. 

Behind you, his smile spread wide as he let his arm grow slacker around your waist, giving you more room to move. This wasn’t how he had intended to get you to this point, but it would do. 

It was far better than poison. He struggled to take his eyes from the blood on your pretty hands, so much smaller than his. Oh, how lovely they looked wrapped around a blade. 

“Once you do this, we can be together.” Alastor promised as you fell to your knees, your husband’s blood splashing lightly before soaking into your dress. 

Alastor knelt behind you, letting his knees slot on either side of your hips. Laurence looked up, blinking, as he watched his wife as she was pulled firmly against the chest of the man who stole you. 

Laurence’s mouth worked, lips forming your name but unable to make a sound. All you had wanted was for your husband to love you. For years, you had tried to find love with him and never had he given it to you. 

It was too late now. You had fallen in love with someone else. There was nothing else you could do. There was nothing left to do. 

“I have to do this,” you whispered. You wanted to tell him you were sorry, but you couldn’t make the words come out. 

“Together,” Alastor said as he reached around you, pushing Laurence onto his back before looking at you. “Alright?” 

You hesitated, looking into the red eyes of the man you loved. The blood was clearing now, no longer oozing into his eyes as freely. Alastor leaned forward, kissing you deeply as he pulled you against him. 

You felt it then; him pressed into your lower back. He was stiff, hard, and ready for you. Alastor wanted you and oh, you wanted him. It was one line he wouldn’t cross while you were married and now you had the power to cut that last cord. 

“Together?” you whispered as your lips left his to look back at your husband, wide eyes struggling to focus as you kissed the man you loved. 

Alastor nodded, pulling your hand forward. “Two hands now,” 

You wrapped your other hand around the hilt as Alastor lifted his hand from yours. Once the blade was secure in your grip, Alastor wrapped one hand around yours again. Reaching forward, he wrapped his hand around Laurence’s face, pulling his head up and back to expose his throat. 

Laurence found strength then, little though it was. He could not make his limbs move. His body was weak from the blood pouring out of his back and abdomen. What he could do was watch, eyes wide as the woman who should have been his, who should have been under his control, brought the bloody knife closer to his neck. 

He shuffled, trying to create distance. Alastor’s large hand held his head firmly back against the floor of his office. All Laurence could do was scream into Alastor’s hand.

“How?” you asked, looking between Laurence’s wide glassy eyes, the blade in your hands and Alastor’s face hovering so close to yours. 

“Like this,” Alastor said, pushing your hands forward until the butt of the blade was resting against Laurence’s throat. Panicked breathing came in quick painful gasps from the man that had tormented you to some extent through all of your marriage. “Push down and pull back,” Alastor whispered. 

Moaning cries came from your husband, muffled by Alastor’s hand. Were those the same sounds you made when he broke your ribs? When he threw you against the stairs? Did you shake and cry in the same way when he rammed his fists into you? 

Now he knew what it felt like to be scared and hurting. He was lucky, you thought. He would only have to experience this pain once. How many times had he hurt you? So many times. Too many times. 

But he wouldn’t. Never again. 

“Okay,” you swallowed before pushing down on the blade. 

Red. So much red bloomed around the blade, spilling down his neck, staining it red. The blood poured over pale skin, coating it. Was that what it looked like when he stained your thighs red with your blood?

“Just like that, yes,” Alastor said as he pulled your torso tighter against his, hips twitching against you. “Good girl.” 

When you hesitated, he put pressure on your hands and the blade, encouraging you to keep going. He did not let up the pressure until the blade made a scraping sound that sounded so much like when you would hit a bone when cutting through a leg of beef. 

“Almost there,” Alastor said, as the tip of the blade scraped against bone. “And done,” he said, when the tip of the bloody knife slipped free of the other side of your husband’s neck.

“Is it done?” you whispered, turning to Alastor as blood poured onto the ground. 

“In a minute, it will be.” He took the knife from your hands and tossed it off to the side. “You did it.” 

He kissed you, lips meeting yours with a desperation that had you gasping for air. New tears ran down your face as you ran your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Your front was pressed against his, blood soaking into your dress from his shirt. 

“It’s over,” Alastor said as his eyes slowly opened and glanced toward the man that had been your husband for far too long, taking in the way the blood had slowed to little more than an ooze. It didn’t take a man long to bleed out, especially considering how much blood he had already lost. 

“Really?” you asked, a smile unexpectedly pulling at the corners of your lips.

“Congratulations on your widowhood, Mrs. Latimer.” 

“Thank you, Alastor.” You spoke softly as you caressed his face. “I’m sorry you got hurt in the-” 

Alastor kissed you again, pushing you down with his body. Blood soaked into your dress and your hand slipped across the wet wooden floor. His body pressed against yours as he kept himself as close to you as he could while his kiss devoured your senses.

His hips pressed into you, hardness demanding that you take notice of his desire. He draped himself over you, blanketing you with his bloody body. Though your hands were coated in Laurance’s blood, you couldn’t help but run them over Alastor’s back. 

Alastor seemed unbothered by the smears of red you left on his brown shirt. His fingers dug into your blood-soaked dress, holding you as if you’d somehow fade away if his grip loosened even for a moment. 

Kisses trailed along your jaw as you arched into his hands. Blood soaked into your hair, sticking it to your skull. 

“You’re magnificent,” Alastor whispered into your shoulder as he gripped your ribs. His chest pressed into yours every time he seemed to lower with his exhales, matching the kisses he placed. “So brave. You’re free now.” 

“I’m free.” You marveled at the thought as you surrendered to Alastor’s attention. His hands ghosted over your breasts. His clothed hardness ground against your core, though you had no memory of spreading your legs for him. 

Each time he ground against your sensitive nerves, you gasped. That fire only Alastor knew how to light withing was stoked. 

It was wrong. You were laying in your husband’s blood but all you could think of was the way Alastor’s lips felt on your skin.

“Alastor, I’m free.” Tears ran down the sides of your face, slipping free from your eyes without you being aware.

“Will you be mine?” Alastor breathed the question in your ear, bloody lips leaving smears of red as they moved exeunt the soft skin. “Now that you’re not his?” 

“I’ve always been yours.” You sighed into him, fingers flexing, bunching the fabric of his shirt. 

“Mine,” Alastor sighed as his hand smoothed down your thigh, pushing the fabric of your skirt up higher until he was rewarded with the soft feeling of your warm skin under his bloody hands. 

“Yours,” you agreed, trying to feel as much of him as you could. The suspender over his shoulder snapped down when you pushed it aside. Alastor’s hand left you just long enough to pull the other from his shoulder. “Only yours.” 

“I will never share you again,” Alastor swore as his fingers reached high up your thighs. 

You fumbled with buttons. One fell from your fingers, the thread holding it to the fabric having only just survived the fight but not having anything left to survive the need in you to feel his skin. 

The cold blood smeared on the back of your legs soaked into Alastor’s pants as you wrapped your leg around his thigh, trying to pull him to you with everything you had. 

Sparks ran through your body as his fingers pushed the gusset of your panties aside, connecting with the sensitive skin that from now on, he would be the only man to touch. You were slick and ready for him. 

“Cher,” Alastor moaned as he pulled the slick up, spreading it through your folds as he ensured every bit of you would be protected from the friction. “I’ve waited so long for you.” 

“Please, Alastor.” Your hands ran over his chest, buttons giving way to strong, warm muscles smeared red. Blood. It was alright, he did it because he was attacked. He killed to protect you. 

His fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his pants. After a few short moments, the hot length of him rested against your inner thigh. Each beat of his heart was matched by a eager twitch. Heat radiated from him as the head of his cock smeared against your thigh, leaving a wet trail.

“I have to have you,” Alastor groaned. “Please, Cher. I’ve never wanted anyone, needed anyone. I have to have you.” 

Instead of saying anything, you leaned up, kissing along the length of his neck. Blood smeared as you kissed down his neck, as he had done so often to you. The taste of copper filled your mouth as each kiss smeared more of Alastor’s tacky blood on your lips. 

Reaching down between your bodies, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft. A soft groan poured into your ear as you caressed him. Though you had no experience with what you were doing, at least not with the active participation in the task, you enjoyed the way his head rubbed through your folds with each stroke. 

His hips rocked slightly, matching the pace of your strokes. Then the head of his cock notched at your opening. A new wave of adrenaline flooded through your system as Alastor shuddered above you, pressure just enough to hold him in place as he looked down at you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, though if he was true to himself, he wasn’t sure he could survive you being anything less than sure. 

He hated that part of himself. He hated the fact that you made him the same hungry beast he judged his peers for. It was only you, though, that he hungered for. Such a narrow need. He could live with that if you would only just give yourself to him.

“I need to know,” you kissed him again before continuing, “What it feels like to lie with the man I love.” 

Alastor needed nothing more to be said. He would have you. His fingers gripped your hips as he pushed his head inside your slick, wet heat. You tensed under him as your abused walls fluttered, gripping and struggling to make way.

Alastor’s hips thrusted forward in slow, shallow movements. He knew your body was sore, that there were injuries that would still be easily aggravated. Each small thrust took him deeper into your body. 

Below him, you gulped air into your lungs at the unfamiliar sensation. It stung as it felt like old wounds were ripping open, but the pain was minor, forgettable under the heavy feeling of slowly being filled. 

It was more than you could take. Your back arched, dress sticking to the floor as he slowly pushed deeper inside. It should hurt. It should feel like you’re being ripped apart. Instead, it left you wanting more. 

“Are you okay?” Alastor asked as your eyes fluttered closed. 

“Good,” you sighed, leg twitching as you tried to pull him closer. 

“It may hurt a little,” Alastor rocked his hips against you, still moving slow and shallow. “It won’t always, though, when you’ve healed from what was done to you.” 

“More,” you said as you clung to him.

Alastor didn’t need to be told. His self control was hanging by a thread. Instead of continuing the conversation, he leaned down and kissed you. With a snap of his hips, he bottomed out inside you. He swallowed your gasp. 

Your walls were not quick to accommodate him. His head spun with the way you gripped him, fluttering around him as he forced your body to take his length. 

He wanted his first time with you to be soft, to be sweet, not like this. In a matter of minutes, he was rutting into you wildly as the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room. 

You made a picture that was driving him insane. Blood smeared your skin, decorating you as your head fell back, lips parted as you finally learned how good being with a man could feel.

Another first. 

Alastor’s eyes cut toward Laurence’s, now glassy. Your husband’s soulless eyes watched as Alastor wrapped his arm around your torso, pulling you up off the sticky floor. Your arms tightened around his shoulders as he held your torso to his chest. 

Each thrust into you sent sparks of pleasure through you. His pubic bone and the neat hair traveling up from his cock rubbed your sensitive nub of nerves with each punishing thrust. 

The smell of blood was thick in his nose as he supported his upper body with a hand planted on the blood-soaked ground. His other arm held you in place as he thrust up into you. Your cries of pleasure filled his ears as he felt you tighten around him. 

Red-rimmed eyes looked again at the corpse. Alastor’s mother always told him when someone died, their soul lingered for a little while. It took time for the tether to the body and the living realm to fully sever. 

It wasn’t something Alastor had really given thought to. He didn’t know what came after life and he wasn’t sure he believed anything came after for most except perhaps the most pure people, like his Ma, but he hoped she was right about this.

Alastor’s smile cut wider across his face as he thrust into you, feeling your walls flutter around his cock. He had felt those flutters with his fingers and knew your orgasm would be moments away. 

“Mine,” Alastor told the corpse, fingers digging into your blood coated back as he thrust harder into you. He chanted the word, voice naked and full of possession with each thrust into you. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Yours,” you choked on the word as your body clamped down on his cock. “Ah- Al- Alastor.” 

You came with his name, broken but his, on your lips. Your head fell back as your body convulsed in his arms. Everything had felt so much better with Alastor. You’d been robbed of the pleasure that should have been laying with your husband for years. 

He stole that from you. Used you. Took from you. 

You understood now.

Alastor set you carefully on the ground, thrusting still into your fluttering walls. 

“Mine,” he said as you cried out his name again, only to silence you both with a searing kiss. 

His lips devoured you, tasting the blood on your lips and the sweet essence of you as he pistoned his hips, chasing his own release as you rode the waves of yours. He found it with a groan, muscles seizing with the power of it. It took everything he had to not clench his jaw as he pulled your lip between his teeth. 

Oh, this was different. It was different with you. He wasn’t a child. He knew there was nothing somehow magically different about the biological process of an orgasm. The difference was his feelings, his love for you.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

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[genderlessdude92]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 55 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Violence AN: Thanks to Lady and Midnight who, by your forces combined will be bringing you a bonus chapter this Wednesday! So I'll see YOU in a few days! Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Want a bonus chapter on Wednesday? Unlock it via KoFi updates! More information here

“There’s no need to throw insults around,” Alastor held his hands out, palms up, hoping to calm the man standing on the other side of the office. Strong sunlight filtered in through the closed blinds, highlighting the dust floating through the air, suspended on tension alone. 

Instead of calming the red-faced man, it only made Laurence angrier. He lumbered through the room like a man possessed, leaving Alastor very little options on where to go.

What he needed to do was get out of the room, get downstairs, and grab a proper knife. Instead, he worked his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the small functional folded knife he had with him. 

When Laurence stopped his accusations, Alastor could just hear you in the hall. Oh, how he hated the sound of your tears and gasping breaths. What Alastor hated more was the way you screamed, calling out for Laurence to calm down and swearing there was nothing going on between you and the radio host your husband hated so much.

Alastor knew you were trying to calm things down. He knew you were trying to commit to the lie he himself had told and yet it stung. Emotions ruled the heart, even his damned heart, not logic. 

You had no way to know that Alastor intended for someone to die this day. The decision was made the moment he locked eyes with the man, clearly suffering from withdraws and on the brink of insanity. 

“Come on, old chap- Let’s be reasonable?” 

“You’re fucking her.” Laurence lunged at Alastor, trying to wrap his fingers around any part of the leaner man. 

Luckily for Alastor, his slight build allowed him an agility Laurence lacked. Fingers grazed his shirt, but did no damage as the larger man crashed into the wall. Thankfully, he had missed the door, letting it remain unlatched. The only issue was it put Laurence between him and the door. 

Just as well, Alastor decided. You were still too close to the door for him to make a break for it. 

Laurence grabbed a statue from the clutter on the end table and threw it. The stone bust of a man sailed through the air, catching the light from between the blinds for a moment before crashing against the bookshelf just beyond Alastor’s shoulder. 

“Let’s be civilized,” Alastor said, stepping away from the shelf, crunching stone shards under his shoes. 

“Yes,” Laurence pulled his shoulders back, standing to his full height as if it was impressive. “Here’s how it’s going to work.” 

Alastor took a step toward the door as Laurence drew closer. In his pocket, he worked the knife open, running his thumb along the back of the blade. He had one and a half inches. It was long enough of a blade to cause pain and do damage, but killing a man with it would take serious effort. 

He had no choice but to rely on his ability to overpower Laurence long enough for him to work. More than likely, he’d have to do it more than once. It had been a long time since Alastor had to take a life in such a confrontation, but this was the one time he simply could not fail. 

Laurence was angry, and it was quickly becoming clear that no matter what Alastor said, he wouldn’t be talked down from the ledge. At least one person was going to die and Alastor had to ensure that Laurence did not come for you. 

“Alright,” Alastor’s voice came to you muffled from the other side of the door. “I’ll tell you the truth.” 

Your breath caught in your lungs as you listened. There was nothing more you wanted than to open the office door and somehow save Alastor from the wrath of your husband. You’d been married to Laurence for years, you could take whatever beating he gave you if it meant that Alastor and his reputation could leave your home unscathed. 

“I’m in love with her.” Alastor said, standing before your husband inside the office you had only been allowed inside for a few short minutes at a time. “But I have not lain with her, alright?” 

“You dirty bastard.” Laurence lunged at Alastor. 

Alastor’s body was tense, each muscle pulled tight and ready to absorb the impact. His shoulder crashed into the bookshelf behind him as he turned, deflecting much of Laurence’s weight. Rocking on his heels, Alastor moved to pull the knife from his pocket. 

Unluckily for him, with his hips cocked from absorbing the blow and his hand fisted, his knuckles caught on the inside of his pocket. The few seconds he spent freeing his hand were all it took for Laurence to grab onto his shirt, fisting it on either side of his chest as he rammed Alastor back into the bookshelf. 

The force of the shelves slamming into his back knocked the wind out of Alastor’s lungs. Splintered wood failed to support the books and trinkets, sending items clattering to the ground around their feet. 

Laurence’s hand pulled back, ripping a button from Alastor’s shirt as his grip on the fabric failed to slacken in time. As Alastor freed his hand holding the pathetic knife, he watched Laurence’s fist ball and tensed, preparing to take the hit as he struggled to pull enough air into his lungs. 

Alastor couldn’t help but to cry out as the blow landed on his abdomen, forcing him to double over slightly. There wasn’t enough time to focus on the pain. While he hissed air out of his lungs, he lunged forward, slashing with the small knife.

It ripped through flesh, sending red spilling onto the brown shirt, staining it darker. It wasn’t nearly enough damage to stop Laurence’s onslaught. Alastor struck forward, plunging the small knife into Laurence’s side twice in quick succession. 

Laurence fell to his knees, holding his side as the pain rocked through his body. Wrapping his arms around Alastor, he pulled at him, clawing. 

With his balance upset, Alastor tried to step back, intending to kick out at Laurence only to step on the side of a thick book. It slipped out from under his foot rather than causing him to roll his ankle, but it was enough to send him to the floor with Laurence, the knife clattering out of his reach as he tried and failed to keep off his back. 

“I’ll kill you.” Laurence’s voice boomed, hurting Alastor’s ears as the wider man landed a blow against the side of his face, sending him sprawling back for a moment. 

Alastor had no issue with playing dirty, even as Laurence straddled his abdomen. It was clear he was about to strike Alastor again. 

Reaching up, Alastor raked his nails down Laurence’s neck. The man screamed, pulling back. It gave Alastor enough room to sit up, striking out with a punch of his own against Laurence’s side. 

In a heartbeat, the positions were flipped and Alastor’s hands wrapped around Laurence’s neck. Finally, he would get to watch the life fade behind Laurence’s eyes. Finally, you would be free. Finally. Finally. 

A crash against the side of Alastor’s head caught him off guard. He had been so focused on strangling the life out of the man that he hadn’t noticed his hand reaching out, grabbing the metal frame that once held a globe. For his carelessness, Alastor paid the price. 

He was knocked from his perch atop Laurance, blood running down his face and staining the world red as he tried to blink it away. Laurence was atop him again in a heartbeat, before Alastor righted himself. 

His hands wrapped around Alastor’s neck, attempting to squeeze off his air supply as Alastor had been doing to Laurance. Thank what god he didn’t believe in, Alastor thought, as Laurence’s weaker grip made the action less efficient than it could have been. 

That didn’t mean he was out of danger, however. It was Alastor’s turn to run his fingers blindly over the floor, seeking anything he could use to defend himself. 

“I’ll fuckin kill you,” Laurence roared as he tried to collapse Alastor’s throat. 

“You’re….. not doing….. a very…. good… job of it.” Alastor gasped at the words, fighting to pull air into his lungs. 

Vision grew fuzzy as Alastor’s hand continued to grope along the floor. His other hand wrapped around Laurence’s wrist, pulling at the man as he tried to take some of the pressure off his neck. When that failed, he clawed his nails under Laurence’s hand, ripping one hand from his throat and shifting the position of the other, earning him a sweet full breath that tasted of copper. 

Alastor wasn’t a man that feared death. He had accepted that he would die at a very young age. If he was honest, he had expected his life to end at his own father’s hands before he had grown into a man. 

When it didn’t, he had decided he was living his life on borrowed time. He would make the best of it. And he had. He had accomplished more than he had ever expected. He had the job he dreamed of. He had found love. You. 

Closing his eyes in a long, slow blink, Alastor focused on his hands. He couldn’t die like this. He had to survive, not for himself, but for you. Men like Laurence- they killed their wives. He had to protect you. 

In the hallway, you stood trembling. Somehow, the lack of noise made things worse. You’d rather hear shouting, banging and crashing. At least that would mean the two men were still fighting. 

Silence could only mean one of them was dead or dying. Tears ran down your cheeks as you called out the name of the man you so badly wanted to see walk through the office door. 

“Alastor?” Your hand trembled as you reached for the door before stopping short. Laurence always kept the door locked. Helplessness ate at your mind. This had to be what Alastor felt, locked away in the closet as Laurence beat you. 

If only there was a way to open the door.

You had to find a way to open the door.

Running down the hall, toward your bedroom, you hoped to find something, anything, to open the door. Pain flared as your ankle twisted, foot rolling over the slight heel of the shoes your damned husband insisted you wear day in and day out. 

The ground was cold and hard as you crashed into it. It was surely nothing compared to the pain your husband could be inflicting on Alastor in that very moment. Staggering to your feet, you rushed into the bedroom. 

In the office, Alastor bucked his hips, upsetting Laurence’s balance in a desperate attempt to do anything to regain the upper hand. Laurence fell forward, smashing his pale face against the hard floor just over Alastor’s shoulder. 

It was all Alastor could do to gasp air into his burning lungs. Red, everything was stained red. Alastor knew logically that it was the blood still in running into his eyes but for a moment, while his eyes scanned the disheveled room, his mind screamed that he’d been sent to hell. 

The blade of the knife glittered in the sunlight, catching his eye. Alastor crawled toward it, at first on his hands and knees, before he staggered to his feet. Laurence grabbed at his ankle, sending him falling back to the ground with a thump. 

The sound of the thump and Alastor’s voice crying out, naked as he shouted a curse, sent your heart racing in your chest. He was still alive, somehow, and from the thumping, it sounded like Laurence was as well. 

You grabbed at anything you could find, throwing open draws and sending their contents flying to the ground. A large knife clattered to the ground, missing from your kitchen for a good few weeks. 

It took a moment for you to remember why it was here. There was a night when you had awoken, standing over Laurence with a knife. The shock and shame flooded you with the memory of how you cried, realizing what you’d almost done. 

The only shame you now held was because you didn’t kill your husband then. That would have saved you and Alastor so much pain. Alastor wouldn’t be locked in the office, at your husband’s mercy if you had just done it that night. 

Your fingers trembled as they wrapped around the handle. The blade was thin. If you were lucky, you could use it to pry open the door. You didn’t know if the knife would break in the process or what you would do once the door was open.

“Alastor?” you screamed his name, not liking how the thumps and shouts returned to silence. Again and again you shouted his name as you ran back toward the office. 

A few steps away, you stopped, heart pounding as you screamed for Alastor. Instead of his rich voice answering you, Laurence’s laugh came through the door. 

Tears blurred your vision as you ran forward, expecting to crash into the door. 

The door opened easily under your weight, sending you falling to the floor. Books and trinkets littered the ground, some shattered. Blood smeared on the floor, splattering on the too white pages of books that sat opened on the ground, pages crinkled or ripped. 

Wide eyes blinked away the tears as you looked for the man you loved. You saw his long legs first, one leg cocked with his foot planted on the ground and the other stretched out. Laurence was straddling Alastor, shirt stained dark. Red marred his skin, smearing on his face and hands.

Who’s blood was it?

Alastor’s fluffy brown hair was matted, sticking to his face with sweat and blood. The hand that had been clawing at Laurence’s hands wrapped around his neck instead flopped down, reaching out for you. 

Eyes stained red looked at you, wide as you watched Laurence’s hands squeeze tighter. You’d been on the receiving end of his touch. You knew how it felt to have his hands around your neck. 

“No,” you whispered, struggling to put your feet under you. “Let him go.” You repeated the demand twice as you stood, knuckles white around the hilt of the knife. 

“I’ll kill him.” Laurence didn’t look from Alastor’s eyes, slowly blinking up at him before lazily rolling to you. “You can watch while I kill your dirty lover. How dare you run around behind my back? I’ll teach you when I’m-”

You screamed, realizing what you had done as Laurence turned to face you. Jerking back, you pulled the knife from his back. Trembling steps took you back. The knife clattered to the ground as it slipped from your fingers, red blade reflecting the patches of sunlight. 

Laurence staggered toward you, grabbing at you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hands clasped over your mouth. “Please, I-” 

“I’ll kill you for that.” Blood trickled from the corner of Laurence’s mouth. 

“No,” Alastor’s voice was naked, strained and full of gravel as he struggled to his feet. “You won’t.” 

Fingers wrapped around the collar of Laurence’s shirt, throwing him back away from you. You didn’t know when it happened but Alastor had grabbed the kitchen knife from the ground. Shaking, you watched as the man you loved plunged the knife into your husband’s stomach once, then a second time. 

Laurence fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his hands to the wounds. Blood poured out in small rivers between his fingers. He did not get up, though you could see his limbs twitching with the pain. Bile rose in your throat that you willed down. 

“Cher?” Alastor said, repeating your name when the pet name failed to get your attention. Reaching out, he rested his bloody hands on your face. Blinking, your eyes focused on his. Blood still oozed down his forehead, running into his eyes, making the whites of his eyes red.

 “Are you alright?” you whispered, reaching out for his face but terrified to touch him. 

“I am,” Alastor said, voice naked of any trace of the accent he usually wore. Leaning forward, he placed a bloody kiss on your lips. The drying blood in places was tacky, urging your lips to follow his. “Thanks to you.” 

“You’re sure?” You ran your hands over his chest, searching out any sign of injury you couldn’t see. 

“I am,” Alastor said, “but we have to finish this.” 

You were going to ask what he meant by that, but you didn’t have to. Laurence groaned, coughing and sending splatters of blood through the air. It was then that you realized Alastor still gripped the knife in his hand, the blade dangerously close to your face. 

“Finish this?” 

Alastor took your hand in his and placed the hilt of the knife in your palm. He looked into your eyes as he closed your fingers around the handle. “My love, you need to finish this.” 

“I don’t- I-” Tears spilled down your eyes as you looked in Alastor’s red eyes and bloodstained face. Fear flooded you as you remembered how he had looked, dried blood smeared on him as he stood in your kitchen, cornering you and demanding answers. 

It had just been animal blood that day, hadn’t it been?

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

Want an exclusive sneak peek at my works? Join the Kofi membership for as little as $2 a month today! You'll see the first two pages of the next chapter of MisD and a peek at upcoming fics! 

[genderlessdude92]

i just saw alastor mpreg oh my heavens

[genderlessdude92]

ace people can still enjoy sex

it’s like enjoying eating chocolate without being hungry or liking it

[genderlessdude92]

You, throwing your head into Alastor’s lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

Alastor, lovingly stroking your hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

[genderlessdude92]

Snapshots of Sunshine and Vox as they both navigate how to love and be with each other even in the depths of Hell. This series is posted on AO3 so click HERE if you want to read them there! 🥰

⋆˙⟡ — I. Mandatory Overtime

Rating 18+ || MDNI Your boss is a class-A hole, and you had envisioned tormenting him for all the overtime he was forcing you to work. Truly, he was ensuring that your time in Hell was...Hell. Perhaps it was you burning out, but you had a very vivid, steamy dream of your boss....At least, you were pretty sure it was a dream.

⋆˙⟡ — II. S♡X TOYS

Rating 18+ || MDNI Vox started to treat sex as part of his "to-do list." Unimpressed, you boo-ed him mid-fuck.

⋆˙⟡ — III. F♡CK MACHINE

Rating 18+ || MDNI Vox decides to introduce a new toy for you to use for his viewing pleasures.

⋆˙⟡ — IV. One Moment

Rating 18+ || MDNI You and Vox shared a tangled, messy relationship—one where Valentino always seemed to cast his shadow over you both. You understood why he had to be part of the picture, but that didn’t stop you from yearning for the impossible. You wanted Vox to choose you.

⋆˙⟡ — V. Cooling Period

Rating 18+ || MDNI You didn’t mind that Vox spent the last two Christmases with Valentino—it’s not like you were upset or anything. But this year, you’ve discovered something sweeter than holiday cheer: lollipops. And judging by the way Vox can’t take his eyes off you, they’re even better when used to stir up a little mischief.

⋆˙⟡ — VI. Shallow

Caught in a toxic power play on New Year’s Eve, Vox sacrifices his heart for the sake of image and control, sharing a public kiss with Valentino while the one person he truly longs for walks away.

⋆˙⟡ — VII. Choose Me

Rating 18+ || MDNI You never imagined Vox would choose you, so when he surprised you by saying he’d spend both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with you, it left you speechless. Determined to make this a day to remember, you set aside any lingering doubts and focused on what truly mattered—the chance to share special moments with him. This Christmas would be different, a fresh start filled with joy, laughter, and unforgettable memories.

⋆˙⟡ — VIII. Status Gap

Rating 18+ || MDNI You and Vox had just started to explore a serious relationship, or so you believed—until one explosive fight left you both locked in a silent war, fuelled by stubborn pride. Days stretched by as neither of you made a move to reconcile, leaving you heartbroken yet determined to finally let go and move forward. But just as you began to find your footing without him, Vox made it clear he wasn’t about to let you slip away that easily.

⋆˙⟡ — IX. Anniversary

Rating 18+ || MDNI As desire and vulnerability intertwine, you realize your connection is far more than fleeting lust. With confessions of love, you embrace a deeper bond, choosing Vox again and again.

[genderlessdude92]

A/N: It was supposed to be a raunchy one-shot but somewhere along the way, the feels have been caught. Also, special thank you to @glitterypeachy for the amazing Vox fanart on my title banner!

SUMMARY: Your boss, Vox, is a class-A hole, and you had envisioned tormenting him for all the overtime he was forcing you to work. Truly, he was ensuring that your time in Hell was...Hell. Perhaps it was you burning out, but you had a very vivid, steamy dream of your boss.

...At least, you were pretty sure it was a dream.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, assistant!reader, dom!reader, sub!Vox, dual POV, hating your boss to confused h*rny, reader is extremely sleep deprived and is so done with Vox's shenanigans, mutual attraction, pining, p in v, fluff, soft, edging, electrostimulation (brief)

<- PREV

“Ugh, fuck!” Vox cried out, panting heavily, his body writhing against the cords binding him. You giggled softly, your hands hovering tantalizingly close to his desperate cock, begging for release.  

This game had been going on for a while; you’d tricked him into thinking he was going to fuck you. Instead, you lay on his legs, your breasts pressed up against his quivering thighs, slowly stroking him.  

“What’s wrong, boss?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. You trailed the tip of your tongue along the sensitive curve of his head, tasting the salty musk of his arousal. With a sigh, you gently pulled back the foreskin, placing a soft kiss just below the tip.  

He groaned deeply, a sound filled with both pleasure and frustration, his cock twitching in your grasp. The throbbing pulse under your touch was irresistible, and his obvious tell when he was about to cum made it impossible not to edge him, again and again. 

“Ho-how long?” he whined, shifting his hips desperately, trying to press his cock against you, rubbing against you, anything to relieve the pressure building inside his balls.  

“Well,” you whispered, your finger trailing lightly from the head of his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum and painting it down the thick vein of his shaft, “when I’m ready to fuck you, sir.” You said ‘sir’ with a cheeky grin, your voice pitched high in mockery.  

A soft, needy whine escaped him as he wiggled his body, trying to find any relief from the intense need that had him in a choke-hold. His chest rose and fell rapidly, pixelated sweat streamed down his face. Stifling a giggle, you pressed your lips against the middle of his shaft, closing your eyes to savour the searing heat of his skin.  

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned, his hips jerking upward as you trailed barely there kisses down his length. Your fingers curled around the wires wrapped tightly around his hips, and as you tugged them down, Vox unexpectedly let out a loud yelp.  

Startled, your eyes flew open as you saw Vox wince. You glanced down at your hand and noticed the wire you had tugged on had an exposed section. Realization dawned on you that you had accidentally shocked him. “Oh, shit,” you cringed as you carefully tried to unravel the surrounding wire. “Are you alright?” 

When Vox didn’t answer, you looked back at his face and saw a red tint flushed across it. He didn’t look upset or in pain. In fact, the way he was panting with a grin plastered across his screen, he looked rather…excited.  

You glanced down at the wire and experimentally pressed it against his inner thigh. The reaction was immediate. He cursed, his back arching while his cock stood straight and a pool of pre-cum began to form at the tip.  

Oh. He really liked this, didn’t he? 

You pressed your finger on the exposed wire, but you didn’t feel anything – not even a tingle. But judging by Vox’s reaction, he definitely felt the shock that your body couldn’t register.  

Humming, you gave him a smirk and hovered the wire just above the tip of his dick. You looked up at him, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eyes.  

Vox’s eyes were transfixed on the open wire, his breath hitching. Hesitantly, he lifted his hips, slowly inching closer. He paused when the tip of his cock was just a hair’s breadth away from the wire. You stood still, watching him, waiting for him to embrace the sensation on his own.  

With a deep breath, Vox surged forward, making the decision himself. The moment his cock touched the open wire, he cried out loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. His hips shuddered violently as he continued to press his leaking tip against the wire, pre-cum smearing around.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, fuck me!” he moaned, his face glitching with pop-ups warning of overheating before his expression returned, contorted with pleasure.  

As soon as you pulled the wire away from his cock, he sobbed, his hips thrusting in desperate, tiny stokes into the air, as if he were fucking an invisible pussy. His body craved the shocking sensation of the open wire, the lust in his eyes undeniable.  

“Let me,” his tone wavered with the glitches, “let me fuck you. I’ll fuck you so good,” he promised, or maybe he was begging, as he shut his eyes and tiny shivers wracked his frame.  

“I don’t know,” you said in a sing-song voice. Moving up, you sat on his abdomen, enjoying the view as his shirt rode up, exposing his chest. You pulled on the wire, lightly patting it against his skin, trailing it up his abdomen as he continued to buck his hips, pressing the tip of his cock urgently against your backside.  

“Fuck me,” he groaned, his bound hands trembling above his head.  

“You know, you cock blocked me for the past two years, boss,” you said casually. You dropped the damaged wire next to him, unreachable. Vox whimpered as he saw the wire lying far from him, the stimulating sensation just out of his reach.  

Vox blinked once, then twice, as your words seemed to finally penetrate his pleasure-fogged brain. His eyes snapped back to your face. “Cock block?” he asked, his voice regaining its normal timbre.  

His brows knitted together as he searched your eyes for meaning. “Are you …uh…seeing somebody?” he asked quietly, and the atmosphere between you shifted into something uncomfortable and heavy.  

With a sharp, bitter laugh, you shook your head. “Not anymore. She officially dumped me today,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual.  

“Oh,” Vox replied, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.  

That bastard. He was probably mocking you in his mind right now.  

Widening your thighs, you presented your cunt to him, giving him a full view of your dripping, swollen folds. His eyes widened as he took in the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at your glistening, sopping hole.  

“You see, boss,” you said, your voice thick with desire, “with all the shitty overtime you have me doing, I haven’t come in ages.” You slid your fingers between your lips, stretching your hole open, feeling your inner walls clench and twitch, desperately craving something – anything – inside of you.  

“We could fix that,” Vox said, his tone eager as he tried to inch closer, his head straining forward.  

“How about,” you began, slowly stroking your clit with your other hand, moaning emphatically, “I finish all over you and then go home?” 

Vox chuckled at your empty threat. “Or you could untie me, and I’ll make you feel really good, sunshine.”  

The cocky smile on your lips froze, along with the fingers pressing against your bare centre.  

Sunshine.  

You hadn’t heard Vox call you by that nickname since you’d started avoiding him after catching his tongue down Val’s throat.   

“Sunshine?” You had asked one night after you and Vox had wrapped up the latest project together. “That’s new, sir,” you giggled, feeling a flutter of happiness and nerves in your chest.  

“I thought it suited you, since you brighten my day!” Vox had exclaimed, flashing you a cheeky grin before both of you burst into laughter.  

Your hands slowly withdrew from your cunt, and you tilted your head, a look of defiance in your eyes. “Boss,” you responded, unwilling to give in to his demands.  

Vox’s eyes widened. Despite his wrists being bound, he reached out toward you, his desperation palpable. “Sunshine, untie me.” 

“Yikes, that’s so cheesy!” you had said with a laugh, covering your lips as elation filled your heart. You stood up from your desk and slowly began to pack up your documents. Vox, who was sitting on the edge of your desk, slid off and swallowed the space between you.  

His hand landed heavily on the document, stopping you from keeping your mind and your body busy. Stopping you from thinking about anything else but him. His frame cast a shadow over you – inviting you to sink deeper into his presence. 

“What if I don’t want to, sir?” you cut off the memory, pushing it away. You didn’t want to think about that right now.  

“Vox,” he said, grinning at you as he wiggled his bound hands in front of you. “I have my dick out, and you’ve been torturing me for the better part of the evening. At least call me by my name, sunshine.” 

His sharp red eyes had softened as he leaned closer. “Call me by my name, sunshine,” he murmured, his lips inching ever closer to yours.  

Your smile slowly faded, you hadn’t intended to stay late tonight. The office that was shrouded in darkness, transformed with Vox’s presence. The large, clear windows absorbed the soft golden light from the gates of Heaven, turning the usual dull office space into a resplendent dimension.  

It felt as if you and Vox were transported to a place far, far away from prying eyes and expectations.  

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to him. “I don’t think it would be appropriate of me to start calling the CEO of VoxTek by his name,” you said, stepping even closer until the toes of your shoes barely grazed his. “Sir.” 

Vox grinned, that sure, cocky grin that made his employees feel that if they followed him, their path would only be filled with success. “Luckily, no one’s around to hear you,” he chuckled. With the tip of his claws, he gently lifted your chin, aligning your gaze with his. “So, it’s Vox,” he said softly, almost conspiratorially.  

You found it difficult to say no to him these days. In truth, you didn’t want to say no because deep down, it was what you wanted. “Vox,” you repeated quietly.  

His eyes searched yours, and yet neither of you made the next move, teetering on the threshold between boss and employee, waiting to see who would dare to cross it first. The surrounding air was thick with unspoken desires, the golden light casting a romantic glow, as if the universe itself was urging you both to take that final step.  

You stared at Vox’s wrists as memories from years ago faded into the back of your mind. Slowly, your fingers gently pulled the wires off; they were already loose, and if he had chosen to, he could have escaped on his own. Holding his wrists carefully in your hands, you found yourself stunned, unable to face him.  

With a forced smile, you tried your best to feign nonchalance, “I didn’t know I was still your sunshine." After all, you thought all the previous, frivolous flirting had died the moment your boss made his intentions with Valentino clear.  

“It suits you,” Vox said softly. Sitting up slowly, his claws traced a gentle line down your cheek before stopping below your chin, tilting your head to face him just like he did so many years ago.  

“Because I brighten your day?” you asked, raising a brow, pretending his words and the memories you shared didn’t affect you.  

Pretending you didn’t feel anything for him.  

But your pretense was pointless. The moment you recited his lines from the past, his face brightened, and he played a quirky sound, like a game show, signifying that you were correct.  

You snorted at the silliness of it all because this was the side of him that had made you fall in love in the first place.  

“That’s right,” Vox said, his hands cradling the sides of your face. “You still brighten my day, so that makes you, my sunshine.” 

His words finally carved a place in your chest, or perhaps, he always had a place there. As you let the meaning, the intention, behind his words sink in, you...

Ah, fuck.  

You hated him. 

You really, really, hated him.  

Your fingers reached for his head, grasping the sides firmly as you pulled him toward you. “You owe me a lot of kisses, Vox,” you whispered, your lips so close that even the slightest movement would bring them together in a soft kiss.  

All those missed opportunities, you were going to take them now with maximum interest.

“You’re right, I do,” Vox agreed easily. In a flourish of strength you hadn’t expected, he crashed his lips against yours. You felt the screen of his face soften, the warmth and wetness of his tongue glided into your mouth. The wires snapped from the force as Vox pushed you down to the floor, his body covering yours.  

He pulled back, panting, and you managed to say, “Those cords were a bitch to order, I just wanted you to know.” 

Laughing, Vox covered your lips with his again, ravaging the inside of your mouth, his tongue mapping out every inch, tasting you, leaving traces of himself so you could still feel him even after he parted. His hands roamed your body, each touch sending shivers down your spine.  

Your bodies moved in sync, the heat between you building with every kiss, every touch. The world outside the office ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other. The culmination of years of tension and unspoken feelings finally being released.  

The heat of his cock pressed against your folds, and he moaned as he slowly sank in his tip. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbled, making short thrusting motions, sinking deeper into you with each stroke.  

Your legs wrapped around his waist, signalling him to fully bottom out. You yelped, feeling the unexpected depth and stretch; it had been a while since you last had sex. The molten heat of his cock prodded deep within you before he withdrew and quickly snapped his hips forward, driving his cock back inside.  

“Ah, fuck!” you cried, your claws clinging to his back as moans threatened to escape your lips.  

His breaths were short and uneven as he continued to hump you, his hips snapping into you, wet, meaty flesh slapping together. The sounds of your union echoed in his office.  

“Feels good, fuck, tell me it feels good, sunshine,” he panted, stretching and fucking the sensitive bundles of nerves deep within you.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from goading him, especially to a man as prideful as Vox. “Ah — you -” you gasped as he circled his hips, rubbing his pubic bone against the sensitive clit before fucking you again, “if you make me cum, maybe I’ll leave a five-star review,” you said, grinning before the pleasure overwhelmed you.  

Vox choked out a laugh, lifting your body until he was sitting on the floor. Your breasts bounced up and down as he grabbed your hips, lifting and dragging you while moving his hips in tandem. His cock plunged deeper with each motion, hitting spots inside you that sent electric shocks of pleasure through your body.  

“Oh fuck,” you whined, closing your eyes as this position perfectly targeted your g-spot. The coiling heat and pressure built inside you, making you tremble. “Oh, please, please, don’t stop,” you cried, feeling your nerves buzzing and your body steadily climbing towards the peak. “Don’t stop, Vox, don’t stop,” you moaned, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.  

“Yeah, let me see you cum, sunshine,” Vox panted, his moans mingling with yours. “Fuck, I want to see you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his tongue laving against the sensitive peak of your nipple. The way his teeth grazed your skin sent jolts of sensation directly to your heated core.  

The targeted bundles of nerves were all you needed. Your head fell back as you mewled and sobbed, your walls fluttering around the thick length of his cock, trying to milk him with everything you had. It was as if all the stress you carried within your body was released at once, your mind woozy as the rush of pleasure pierced through you.  

You screamed as your climax hit hard, your entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. You were sure at this point you were babbling, and you didn’t give a damn what words came out because fuck, this was what you needed and wanted for years.  

Feeling your cunt tighten around his throbbing cock, Vox groaned loudly, swearing and praising your pussy as he filled you with his release. His hot cum spurted inside you, filling you to the brim, the sensation sending another shiver through your already hyper-sensitive body.  

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he moaned, his thrusts slowing to deep, deliberate strokes, ensuring he painted every inch of your walls.  

His arms wrapped around your sluggish body as your head comfortably rested against his chest. You heard the heavy thud of his heartbeat against your ear. Strands of hair stuck to your face, the room too hot from the running computers and the heat of your union, yet you didn't want to move away from his embrace.  

You didn’t want to wake up from this dream and leave him.  

His claws gently carded through your hair as he sighed in contentment. It was then that exhaustion hit you with full force, the post-orgasmic haze serving only to relax your body further, rendering the caffeine you had consumed utterly useless.  

Your eyes started to flutter closed, but you forced them open despite the stinging tiredness. You had to wear your clothes and leave; you couldn’t fall asleep in his arms.  

Ah, but since this was a dream, maybe you’d wake up back in the office again. A sudden surge of emotion hit you, and you pressed your face against his chest, savouring the warmth and comfort. You forgot how nice it felt to be held.  

“Sunshine?” Vox called out quietly, his claws gently brushing your hair in a soothing motion that made your muscles relax to the point of melting on him. 

“Mhm?” You hummed softly in response.  

“Stay with me?” he asked, his other hand wrapped around your waist, tightening. “I want to renegotiate on your contract.” 

You huffed out a quiet laugh, your eyes now fully closed, and your arms loosely wrapped around his torso. “Really, Vox? One good fuck, and you want to renegotiate on our contract?” 

“Well, we could add fucking to our contract, where I give you at least one good fuck every day,” his voice was whimsical and light, and you felt a light kiss against the top of your head.  

“And how long would this next contract be?” you asked, playing along with him, knowing that none of his and your words would come to pass.  

“Forever,” Vox said without missing a beat. “It would be for forever.” 

Your muscles seized momentarily before relaxing once more. This was a dream, right? Your subconscious was seriously contemplating working forever with him? How much of a masochist were you? Did you really enjoy working that much? 

“Will I still have to work mandatory overtime? Cause that’s incredibly shitty,” you murmured, rubbing your face against his chest, wanting to burrow deeper into him. “Will you still be an asshole?” you added quietly.  

There were so many other questions you wanted to ask, knowing you would never get an answer to any of them. “I’m tired,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness and fatigue. The words slurred slightly as each strand of your muscles started to relax.  

The simple words were weighed with meaning – tired of working overtime, tired of pretending that you didn’t have feelings for him, just overall tired. 

“Oh, that’s…” Vox hesitated, then you felt your body being lifted. “How about you rest up in my suite tonight, and we can talk about this tomorrow morning?” 

The last thing you remembered was opening your mouth, but you weren’t sure if you answered him at all before darkness and fatigue finally claimed your vision.  

You cuddled closer to the source of warmth, relishing the feel of another body beside you. Could it be? Did your girlfriend come back? Your eyes slowly opened, and you were first greeted by a bare torso, the skin colour a deep navy blue.  

Furrowing your brows, you slowly got up from the plush bed that was way too comfortable compared to what you were used to, with sheets as soft as something you couldn’t even compare to.  

Blinking slowly, your eyes flicked down to your body, and you smothered a sharp gasp, realizing that you were completely naked. Your eyes immediately looked at the face of the body’s owner, but you already knew who it was without having to look. 

The moment you saw the VoxTek's logo bouncing on your boss’s face to indicate he was in sleep mode, a groan escaped your lips, muffled by your hand.  

You had to be kidding yourself. You didn’t just do the most clichéd thing imaginable. But when memories of last night came flooding in to your mind, each one raunchier than the last, you bowed your head in defeat.

It wasn't a dream.

Fuck.

As if to confirm your worst fears, you felt his arms wrap around you with a firm, possessive grip. Before you could react, his lips planted a loud, affectionate smooch on your cheek. “Good morning, sunshine!” he said, his voice warm and teasing, filled with cheerful energy that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside of you.  

Your heart raced as you tried to process the situation, your mind still tangled in a web of confusion and regret. You shifted slightly, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours and the weight of last night’s decision heavily on your shoulders.  

You had a thousand and one excuses ready: how last night was a mistake, how you weren’t in your right mind, how the sex was meaningless. 

But when you faced Vox, his eyes sparkled with genuine happiness and his arms wrapped around you with such tenderness, every excuse, every justification dissipated from your tongue.  

“Good morning,” you said, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as dry leaves. Your arms lay limp and loose in your lap as Vox sidled closer, his body radiating warmth. He tried to fully embrace you, but you felt the tremor in his arms when you didn’t return the gesture. The tremors were like an earthquake, splintering apart the ground of your resolve.  

The pad of his thumb drifted up to your cheek, gently stroking your face. Each touch was a soft caress, yet it felt like tiny needles prickling at your skin. His gaze roamed your features, his eyes dark and searching. Heat climbed up to your cheeks, mortified by how intimate his gesture was especially when both of you were stripped bare.

The air was thick with the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of spice and a sharp cool, tang of mint, wrapping around your throat as memories of last night flashed through your mind.  

“Sunshine?” Vox’s voice was a whisper, his breath ghosting across your skin as he pressed his body closer to yours. The pressure of his chest against you was a contradicting blend of comfort and a burden.  

“Yes...” you closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself, then opened them again, reigniting the determination and resolve you had nurtured for years. “Boss?” 

Vox chuckled weakly, the sound rough and strained. He continued to embrace you, his refusal to let you go was a silent plea. “So, it’s boss again, huh?” 

Your eyes stung as if salt had been rubbed into them, while your stomach churned, feeling as if it were filled with hot lead boiling your insides. You wanted to push him away because things would never work between you. 

You had two years to truly observe his relationship with his psychotic lover, and you were sure that the moment he found out about your affair with Vox, that shitty moth demon would kill you.  

“You can’t honestly think this would work, right, sir?” Your voice lacked the cruel, hard, edge needed to cut away the tender moment tying you two together. You looked at him, your heart once again held in your hands as you made an offering to him.  

You should push him away.

You must push him away.

You needed to push him away.

Yet, your treacherous hands touched his sides, pulling him closer to you. His response was an instantaneous sigh as he sank deeper into your embrace. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was almost unbearable, the heat between you intensifying the pain in your chest.  

“We won’t know unless we try,” Vox’s voice trembled, his smile tightening at the edges. “Are you going to leave me too?” he asked softly, his smile becoming lopsided as he tried to keep a light-hearted tone.  

Your brows furrowed, confused. What did he mean by “too”? The question lingered, but it was quickly overshadowed by the same chaotic thoughts that always swirled in your mind: your desire for him versus the stark reality of your situation. Your heart and mind were locked in a bloody feud that had raged on for years, neither side willing to concede.  

“Do you honestly think this would work?” You repeated the question, your voice tinged with desperation.

You needed to hear him say no.

Humanity had always done stupid things for love, willingly deluding themselves despite knowing that heartbreak lay at the end of the road. Yet, they would foolishly pick love over and over again.  

You would pick love, over and over again because... 

If there was even a small chance of obtaining a typical fairy tale ending... 

“Vox?” your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. You leaned in closer towards his warmth, his embrace tightening around you. The cries of victory within your chest resonated as your mind finally relented.  

If there was even a small chance that you could be happy with him... 

“Sunshine,” Vox’s claws gripped your hips, pulling you closer and closer to his chest. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice wavered with desperation despite his attempts to remain calm and collected. “Stay with me.” 

If the road ahead that were surely filled with bumps and hardships but promised something worth fighting for at the end, then... 

With a slow, shuddering exhale, you smiled softly at him. The pain and distress in his eyes began to melt away. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. You didn’t need a grand declaration to affirm each other’s affection. The quiet, simple connection was enough.  

As you felt his muscles relax, he returned your kiss, his eyes slowly closing. His hand cradled the back of your head, refusing to part from you, as if the very act of letting go would make you disappear from his grasp.  

If Vox believed this relationship was worth trying, then you wanted to believe that too.  

You pressed your chest against his, wanting him to feel the doubt that had plagued you for so long crumbling away with every beat of your heart. As you slowly parted from him, his breath mingled with yours, warm and reassuring.  

Right now, all that mattered was this moment, this connection, this unspoken promise of a future together.  

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

[genderlessdude92]

frames that make me go "how many teeth can a radio deer demon have?" and not have an answer:

S01E01 edition

[genderlessdude92]

alastor's hands, Hazbin Hotel S01E01

[genderlessdude92]

Love when he goes all :]

[genderlessdude92]

[genderlessdude92]

[genderlessdude92]

[genderlessdude92]

you already KNOW this got me in the feels🩷🌸

To Break a Fever

Alastor x Reader one-shot Rating: E / 18+ Chapter Tags: Sickfic, dubcon, top!reader and bottom!alastor, smut, hurt/comfort; see ao3 tags/note

--- mid-story preview --- ---

“Uh, bless– no, curse you? I don't ah, don't know the right term for…” Each stretch of your semi-free arm has your hips jerking into your hand, the hem of the sheet just out of reach. Maybe he's delirious enough to miss the shackles of lust pinning your gaze to his exposed lower half. “Could you nudge that blanket over– your left, yeah– other left–”

Patience dissolves into a grunt of annoyance as Alastor yanks your compromised wrist from your lap to his hip. Vertigo, dizziness, whatever symptom intercepts the play, your palm coming to rest on his soft cock, tufts of fur gliding against your fingers.

“Okay! Okay, that happened, no big deal, uhh…” Astringent droplets of blood sprinkle the back of your tongue, each a testament to the mewls and moans you've killed behind your teeth. “Sooo, hey, that's your dick, can't believe I'm saying this, but I kinda wanted the sheet, hah.”

“I don't care…” Alastor groans. “Wretched fever… Feels like an early rut.”

… Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, well…

---

[read on ao3]

[genderlessdude92]

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

[genderlessdude92]

No more Rye for him.