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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

Note

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

A warning-- a WARNING BEFORE YOU MESS ME UP FOR LIFE??? this has me hankering for Demon Ass cock, more like?, and Deer Boi is on the menu.

I am worshipping at your altar, this was so filthy and filled with so much salty Alastor... I NEED IT 😩💦 I NEED HIM AND YOUR WRITING, I SIMPLY CANT GO ON LIKE THIIIIIISSSSS

My wonderful Barbie,

My sister from another mister. How did I live life without your funny, witty, lovely presence in it? Our friendship is something I will treasure until I go to hell myself, and if I'm the first of us to go I'll get a dinky lil apartment and will wait for you to join me so we can rock eternal damnation together!

This donation is in your honor.

It's with no strings attached, just one of the ways I can try to show you how much I love you. If you wish though - You know that I would love to see you write a Vox or Alastor piece that makes the toes curl and the heart flutter.

❤️

first, please know that I have been sitting on this fic for literally MONTHS trying to get it done for a special occasion for you and never finding the fight inspiration to finish it. FINALLY I found the rest of the story and I am so happy to be sharing it in response to this beautiful ask, for a beautiful cause, from a beautiful friend ❤️

This is one of two fics that I am posting in your honor today to count notes for the final bits of the International Women's Day event and I hope everyone enjoys!

Another reminder (sorry I'm a broken record lol) that I'll personally be donating $3 for every 15 notes that the fics with this banner are receiving 💗find fic #1 (RadioStatic breeding kink fic) here and fic #2 (innocent Alastor x Reader) here! I'll stop counting around 12PM EST tomorrow so we can get our final tallys in.

Get more information about the event and future ones by following us on Tumblr @hellsgreatestevents and Bluesky!

Without any further ado, a casual not-quite-request from my darling from like July of 2024: promiscuous!reader x Alastor who thinks they have 0 attraction to him despite flirting/sleeping with literally ANYONE else

Tags: promiscuous fem reader; non sex-repulsed Alastor; possessive Alastor; fingering; handjob; 'It's just biology' logic lol

It shouldn’t bother him the way that it does.

Oh, it does.

Alastor watches you from the shadows of the hotel from the moment that you arrive- another deer, he supposes it’s mere instinct to keep an eye on you, some herd mentality that makes his eyes trail your form as you pass from one room to another, makes his ears twitch in tandem when yours flatten or stiffen in response to something. (He’s never reacted similarly to any other cervine Sinner in Hell, but it’s a comforting logic to cling to.) He sends his shadow to monitor you one time only when he catches a scent of distress coming from your bedroom, only for the blasted thing to tell him you were engaged in ‘personal matters’ that made his mind race and his normally dormant lower half twitch with interest. He throws up wards around your room to keep your scent and sounds contained, and assumes that will be the end of it.

It’s only the beginning- as soon as you acclimate to the Hotel, to Hell as a whole, the string of lovers begins. You would bring them to the hotel late in the day and send them off early the next morning; an assortment of men and women, sinners and succubi and Hellhounds, he’s even sure he may have seen an Overlord make an appearance, though no one of any real importance. Charlie and Vaggie finally catch wind of it, and politely ask that you stop bringing your parade of paramours to the doors of the Hotel; you agree to it, Alastor listening from the shadows around the corner, silently pleased that your brazen flaunting of your sexuality will be forced to come to an end.

Except… it doesn’t. You come home some nights smelling of cheap perfume and rancid cologne and what Alastor can only assume is bodily fluids before excusing yourself to your bedroom and emerging later smelling like yourself again- he can smell it on you, see the signs of your amorous hobbies, and no one else seems to notice or care, besides Angel Dust asking on occasion, “You look well taken care of, toots; who’s the lucky individual?”

Laughing when you respond, “who isn’t?” Like you were sharing your body with simply anyone.

It would be one thing if that was all he was subject to. But aside from your more promiscuous activities, you also rivaled the spider demon in terms of flirting and innuendo! At breakfast or lunch with the rest of the Hotel occupants, you would let suggestive comments fly across the table or lobby to everyone- winking at Angel as you swirled your tongue around an ice cream cone; dropping your voice to a lower register when leaning across the bar to ask Husk for a drink; ‘jokingly’ asking the Princess and Vaggie if they were looking for another participant when they mentioned going to bed one night. You weren’t as persistent or forward as the spider used to be- when Vaggie had growled in response to your question you had immediately backed off and apologized profusely- but you were very generous with your compliments and comments with everyone in the Hotel, even Niffty, going so far as to make a pass at Lucifer himself one night that he joined the group.

That, at least, had been entertaining- watching the King seem to choke on his own tongue as he flushed and tried to stammer out a response to your invitation to your bedroom, away from the ears of his daughter.

But your attention was never turned to him.

You never turned shy or demure like one would expect, but you made no pass at Alastor. No innuendos or offers like you made to the others, like you clearly made to the seemingly never ending stream of creatures and sinners that you warmed the sheets of. You chatted with him and laughed and spoke about music and literature but you never complimented him or invited him to your room as he had seen you do with countless others. And normally he wouldn’t care in the slightest- normally he would prefer it this way. When he thinks of the comments he got from the porn star that were always dismissed, the fumbled passes that Vox had made at him during their partnership that had never interested him in the slightest, the various offers and invitations that he had received over the years since arriving in Hell, he feels nothing.

You, though…

Perhaps it's the nature of his sinner form; the buck in him distraught at the idea that such a pretty, fertile doe didn’t think he was acceptable as a sexual partner when you would take on anyone else, and do so blatantly, right in front of him. But the thought of it keeps him up at night, his trousers tight and his antlers large and itchy, scratching at the bark of the trees in his bayou when he risks dropping his wards around your bedroom one night and smells that same scent from before, what he had thought was distress and could now recognize as being arousal. He refuses to lower himself as far as touching his straining erection, but the fact of you not wanting him eats him alive.

To his credit, he resists for a decent amount of time. Alastor lets the thoughts stew and thinks of you- what you’re doing with others, the ways they might be touching you, the sounds you might be making during it. He doesn’t allow himself to follow you when you step out in the evenings, keeps his shadow close to his side when you leave and come back smelling of sex.

A man can only have so much self control.

He’s down in the kitchen late in the evening when the light switches on, and your soft gasp of surprise graces his ears. When he looks over at you he wishes you had kept the lights off- you stand there in a mere slip of a nightgown, black and silky and clinging to the lines of your body like a second skin. Indecent. Alluring. Far, far too tempting, and he keeps his distance across the room, willing his antlers to stay as they are and not branch out to crowd the space at the close proximity to a potential mate.

He feels an eyebrow quirk up at that- mate was new, the word dangerous as it curls through his brain while he watches you, ears dropped low against your head and a blush tinting your face.

“Good evening, dear,” he says cordially, and resumes his earlier actions of making an evening cup of tea- like everything is normal, like the mere presence of you isn’t sending blood rushing through his body.

You seem to breathe a sigh of relief before fully coming into the room, wrapping your arms around yourself, the motion pushing the mounds of your breasts up ever so slightly. He forces himself to look away, to stay busy as you approach and stand next to him. “Hi, Alastor. Think I could get one of those?” You gesture to the mug he holds in his hands.

“Why, of course! Allow me to-”

When your arm drops back down he catches the scent on the air that you displace- Frustration. Arousal. There’s a second of silence before the glass he holds drops to the floor as he abandons all notion of tea in favor of reaching for you, tugging you closer so that you’re fitted against his body, tucked under his chin as he drops it down to sniff at your hair, one hand clasped around your bicep and the other coming around the back to hold you to him.

You make an alarmed squeak but don’t pull away, tilting your head up to try and look at him. The noise you make is inquisitive but not scared as he turns the pair of you, pins you between his chest and the counter and just breathes in the intoxicating cocktail of scent that you give off. He recognizes that he’s overstepping his boundaries- his mother would skin his hide if she was anywhere near Hell and knew he was behaving in such a manner- but he’s held out admirably long, and the need to know why, why, why was beating insistently at his thoughts. And after this, who knew if you would ever let him so close to you again? If you would even stay in the Hotel? The mere idea of you being anywhere else, away from his watchful eye and protection, makes his antlers ache.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs into your scalp, as eager to explain his actions away as he was to get answers from you even if he can’t bring himself to release you yet. “It’s a… biological impulse, I presume, because of our-”

“Because we’re deer?” You ask softly, the whisper of your breath tickling the skin of his chest where it pokes out of his shirt, and his erection aches where it suddenly strains against his trousers. He angles his hips back subtly, resists the urge to shove forward instead.

“Right. I’m afraid I- I was not thinking, and not myself.” He feels a flush take over his face, glad that you can’t see it where you’re held against him. “I believe if I can just- take in your scent for a moment, that should appease the instinct.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you hum into his shirt and stay put, so he assumes it’s a passable excuse.

You stand there quietly with him for a moment before the traitorous words bubble out of his throat against his will, the curiosity overriding his logic. “Why do you show no interest in me like you do the others?”

You stiffen in his hold- and even at this sign of alarm he can’t bring himself to release you. “I don’t- I’m not sure what you mean, Alastor,” you stammer, but he can smell it on you, the nerves, the anxiety in the phrase.

“It’s not my intention to scare you- nor corner you like this,” he adds, nodding down at his arms that cage you against the counter. “Merely a curiosity, and unfortunate coincidence. You offer your compliments freely, you make advances, you have an endless stream of lovers, and yet you have never directed such attention my way. Even Niffty has been at the receiving end of your flirting, albeit in a joking manner.” You’re silent in his arms, muscles tense and face turned away from him, and he keeps his hands where they are instead of doing something stupid like brushing his fingers against your cheek and turning you to face him. “Have I offended you in some manner? Do you simply not find me to be appealing?”

“No!” Your eyes are wide when you meet his again, a sweet blush to your face as you deny. “No, I mean, you’re fine, you haven’t done anything wrong- and you’re hot, so that’s not- fuck. Fuck. It’s really nothing, Alastor-”

And there it was again- that scent that you carried with you, pheromones that broadcasted to him as clearly as a radio that you were aroused, a tinge of embarrassment tinting it now instead of the frustration from earlier and it’s simply not enough. He drops his face to your shoulder, ignoring your soft squeak of alarm in favor of inhaling deeply at the curve of your neck where it’s the strongest that he can reach. It’s heady and thick, almost feeling like it’s coating his airways as it travels through his body, cock leaking inside his trousers now. “Doesn’t smell like nothing,” he murmurs absently, and your hands come up from where they’ve been gripping the counter to fist into his shirt. An explanation, he tells himself as he meets your eyes again, dilated and wide. That’s all I need. That will sate this feeling. That will return me to normal. That will-

He’s taken off guard by your dragging him down to meet your lips, more a clash of teeth than anything else before you get the angle right, surprising him with your tongue against his teeth as you try to lick into his mouth. His noise of surprise is muffled into the kiss, and it gives you the opportunity you need to get your tongue in his mouth, stroke with the slick muscle along his own. The action makes his hips jolt forward, erection finally pressed against the warmth of your body for a blissful moment before he remembers himself and angles away again.

He tries to, anyway. Your hands leave his shirt to tug at his belt loops, bringing his hips back into alignment with yours and causing a moan to vibrate from your mouth and into his as you clumsily try to grind into him.

Alastor releases you- only for a moment, only to reposition his hands so he can hold you even closer, shift you up onto the counter to press harder against you so he can finally satisfy the instinctive craving that had been plaguing him for months- and before he can do anything further you tear away with a gasp, letting go of his hips to push at his chest and try to put distance between the two of you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, and were it not for the note of panic that now taints your delicious scent he would tease you for the calling of a being so far removed from Hell when he manages to settle his hands on your body again. “Fuck, I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, Alastor, I wasn’t thinking,” and through your stammering your face is darkening, ears laid flat against your head.

One can only guess what sort of foolish things you’re telling yourself- that he didn’t want this, that you shouldn’t have kissed him, that this would surely result in some kind of disaster. What he was more focused on was the huff of your breath against his chest, the thrum of your heartbeat under his fingertips, the twitch of your ears. The heat of your body pressed against his as you had attempted to grind down, such an obvious display of your attraction to him that he knows he needs to cease your rampant overthinking before you do something terrible, like flee from him.

“My dear,” he says softly, and your eyes dart up, wide, trembling like your fingers against his chest. Much more like a frightened bird than the doe you were. “If you explain your hesitation, we can sort out any confusion that might linger between us, and get back to the more important matters at hand.” He brings a hand up from your hip to trace along the curve of your jaw, and the exhale that escapes you is hot against his wrist when he pulls you back against him. “Tell me your concerns.”

“You don’t actually want this,” you stutter out, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips, and it’s all he can do not to reclaim your mouth. “It’s- you’re only reacting like this because we’re both deer, you wouldn’t normally-”

“Do you think,” he interrupts with a roll of his hips into you, “that you are the first deer demon I’ve ever come across in all my years in Hell?”

Your eyes widen. “You- but you just said-”

“Yes, in an effort to spare myself the embarrassment of clinging to a young lady that I thought had no interest in me.” He places his hands on your waist and lifts you with little effort to rest on the edge of the counter so he can step fully between your legs. “It seems that may not be the case.”

You whimper, low and broken as his thumb brushes the skin of your thighs. “It’s not,” you confess. “I’ve… it wasn’t the whole time. I mean, I like sex with other people but lately its been- killing me, wanting you. I didn’t think you would want anything.”

“You thought wrong.” He slides his hands under your nightgown, the feeling of your bare skin under his hands igniting the heat within him anew. “I want everything from you.” He clasps you to his body and grinds, his erection dragging deliciously against the soaked warmth between your legs. “You were touching yourself just moments before you entered the kitchen, weren’t you? You couldn’t reach satisfaction; that’s why you smell of frustration, or arousal. Your scent has been driving me mad, these… lovers you’ve been with have been intolerable.”

He can feel the swollen nub of your clit through your panties, wet with slick from your time spent pleasuring yourself and unable to find release. He can almost feel the folds of you molding to his shape, parting with ease to invite him in if he so wished.

He wouldn’t take you here. Alastor had craved you for too long to be satisfied with a fumbling romp in the kitchen in the dead of night- he was a gentleman, and would take you to bed and whisper the words of praise that you were so deserving of as he entered you for the first time. He would ensure that the evening was beautiful and worthy of how long you both had waited, unknowing of how easy it all could have been.

For now, though, you were both vibrating with the tension of months of pent up frustration, and he wouldn’t make you wait any longer, his own release be damned. He would show you that none of the others you had bedded were any sort of viable substitution for him.

He asks, “may I?” As he teases his fingers along the waist of your panties, and your breathy agreement is music to his ears as he simply vanishes them away and slips his fingers into your core. You’re wet for him, the smell of your arousal overwhelming now that you’re bare before him, open for his touch, and while he has little experience in this area he’s able to read the tremble of your body in his arms well enough, the whimpers and gasps that you let out into his ears. He searches, fingers gentle in their exploration as he aches in his slacks, grinding against the counter with what little leverage he has and watching your face for any sign of discomfort. He finds the answer to his questioning touch in a pliable spot of flesh that he crooks his fingers against, and your body trembles in his arms. He hardly needs your frantic whisper of “yes, there, please,” but the feedback is encouraging anyway as he presses hard, withdrawing and adding another finger at the encouraging thrust of your hips.

He wishes he could taste you, knows that you would be just as sweet on his tongue as you felt clenched around his digits. You’re both too wound for that now, as he would want to take his time in savoring you, and so he settles for letting you come undone around his fingers. He finds a promising angle by pushing up on the tips of his hooves, and that gives him the angle he needs to rut into your thigh, hot as the rest of your body and deliciously firm against his cock. Your cunt weeps with arousal, and he swipes his thumb through it for an effortless glide against your clit as he rocks his fingers in a steady rhythm.

“Please,” you whisper, and there’s a hand shoved against his belt buckle, clawing at the clasp in the little space that exists between your bodies. “I want to touch you- please, can I?” Your eyes are wet with pleasure, every inch of your visible skin flushed and your request sweet as honey in the air as you wait for his approval. He nods, and his head drops to your shoulder with a defeated groan at the first touch of your hands to his bare erection.

Your grip is firm, hot- experienced, he thinks with a distant throb of jealousy knowing how many others you had been with to have gained such knowledge. How many others had held you against a counter or wall like this with some part of their body inside of you, your delicate hand touching them in return? What was the exact number of Sinners he would have to hunt down that became familiar with the flavor of your moans before he had been given the chance to sample you?

“Fuck, Alastor,” you cry out, and he grins sharp and dangerous into the crook of your neck at the realization that none of your previous lovers mattered now- all that existed to you in this moment was him, his fingers buried in the tight clench of your body, his cock leaking in your hand, his name on your soft lips. You were pliant and warm and perfect, and he would ensure that you never needed anyone else to satisfy you for the rest of your afterlife.

His orgasm catches him nearly by surprise, hips jerking as he spills hard and messy over your fingers. His voice catches on a desperate moan of your name, and somehow this- staticky and rough and broken- is what takes you over the edge as well, your inner walls fluttering hard around his fingers and even more slick gushing from you to coat him in the evidence of your satisfaction.

You take a moment to simply breathe, bringing a hand up to rest on his shoulder before you start laughing.

Alastor is almost offended, but when he pulls back from your shoulder your smile is fond and pleased. “To think we could have been doing this all along,” you tease, and run your thumb through the mess of his orgasm and lightly against his tip before withdrawing from his pants. You roll your hips against his fingers as he pulls them from you, and the small action is enough to have his spent cock twitching once again.

“Not all along,” he says, bringing his fingers up to inspect, delighting in your renewed blush when he pops one into his mouth for a taste and is rewarded with it being every bit as delicious as he had hoped. “I’m sure with your expertise we would have graduated to more adventurous endeavors by now.”

“My expertise?” You feign offense, your tone exaggerated and your smile genuine as you look up at him. “Why, Alastor, are you implying I’m some sort of tart?”

His eyes are dark as he growls, “not anymore, you aren’t,” and scoops you into his arms to retreat to his bedroom with the ghost of your laughter echoing in the kitchen when you’re gone.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #hellsgreatestinternationalwomensday #hgiwd2025 #lilith fund #hazbin hotel fanfiction #helluvacommunity #FanCreatorsForACause #alastor x reader #alastor smut #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #GDUDHDDJDJDJNDJDJHD THIS IS SO FUCKING G O O D

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

Text

This is... THIS IS YOUR F I R S T CHAGGIE PIECE??? MINKY, YOU KINKY-- YOU GUCKIING-- I CANT TYPE

Aaa

AAAAAA

obsidian

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“baby

i’ve been waiting

my whole life

for

you and i”

Charlie x Vaggie; Chaggie ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: vaggie worship (at 👏🏼 the 👏🏼 top 👏🏼✨ just in case y’all forgot i love love), demon charlie, fluff, adoration, touching/petting, kissing, smut: praise and vaginal fingering (yes you read ‘fluff’ right above this so what?)

word count: 2.4k

find out more on how you can still donate here

author’s note: it was such an honor to join in on this incredible event created and hosted by my dearest friends @hellsgreatestevents! if you haven’t seen the main post, please check it out and share if you are unable to donate — while the event was yesterday, there’s still time to help raise awareness for this extremely important cause! this is my personal contribution and my first foray into writing for chaggie; something i’ve been wanting to do for a long time but felt absolute NEED when @notherpuppet posted this breathtaking art back in january. many, many thanks to mare for giving me her blessing to use this piece as inspo. i hope it does them justice and that you all enjoy it! quote is from ii hands ii heaven by beyoncé 🙏🏼✨

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Eternity had its perks, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days that felt like eons.

It had been a tumultuous one for Vaggie and Charlie, stress racketing up bit-by-bit as they navigated the chaos of the day. They could barely manage to lock eyes with each other to exchange a silent what the fuck before another problem fell into their lap. Alastor had been noticeably absent, leaving them alone to handle mangled pep talks, patching walls, and cleaning up ambiguous fluids in the parlor. So when the aforementioned Overlord finally decided to waltz back into the lobby, there was only a split second of relief before he opened his mouth.

“The hotel seems especially shabby today! Was there a hurricane I didn’t hear about? I didn’t think we had those.”

It didn’t take much for Charlie to bite her tongue, not when she could tell that Vaggie was seeing red — Alastor’s silhouette all she could find in the reflection of her girlfriend’s eye.

“Aaaand I think it’s time for a break!” Charlie said, her voice flirting with mania as she quickly wrapped an arm around Vaggie’s waist to direct her towards the stairs. Turning to give the Hotelier a pointed look before adding, “I’m sure Alastor is more than capable of managing things for a while.”

All she got in return was a slow blink and ambiguous smile, which didn’t leave her with much confidence that Alastor would actually stick around to do his job. Something she might have lectured him over if she wasn’t just as desperate to escape upstairs for a bit.

Charlie did her best to deflate Vaggie’s anger, gently smoothing out her hair as Vaggie muttered to herself in Spanish. They had barely managed to close the bedroom door before crashing into each other, pent up frustration escaping in a steaming hiss of relief as lava meets the ocean.

Vaggie groaned as they clung to each other, with Charlie merely sighing in agreement. Both of them slowly began to relax as their hands mindlessly roamed and petted the other in an effort to soothe. Vaggie shivered as Charlie removed the bow from her hair, the tingle in her scalp traveling all the way down to her toes.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, the exhaustion of the day so evident in both of their faces. But there was softness in their eyes, sprinkled with a glimmer of pride, and they both let out a soft chuckle before Charlie leaned down to rub her nose against Vaggie’s.

“You did a great job today,” she said, bringing a hand up to cup the angel’s face. “No matter what the problem is, you always know what to do. I really couldn’t do this without you, you know.”

Before her mind could even catch up with the action, Charlie kissed Vaggie’s face; her pace heated but intentional as she eagerly made her way to Vaggie’s jaw. She couldn’t help but nip her teeth at the soft skin, humming as felt the angel relax more in her arms; a heady sigh leaving her lungs through her lovely, open mouth.

The Princess really couldn’t help but admire the view. Pride scorched through her veins to see the stoic face she adored melting away into one of pleasure. Vaggie’s eye was closed, her thick eyelashes fluttering against her cheekbones. Showcasing the delicate angles of her face in a way that made Charlie’s heart ache, and she couldn’t help but continue to show her appreciation with each kiss.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Charlie purred, baring her fangs again to gently scrape at Vaggie’s throat, right over her black choker.

She felt her horns begin to sprout as Vaggie cursed in response, relishing the transformation as her eyes glowed gold and sclera went red. Charlie always felt so at ease in this form — her now wild, flowing hair nearly a manifestation of the feeling. Vaggie liked it too, if the sudden roll of her hips was any indication. Charlie took this as her cue to shrug off her jacket, tossing it to the side before she pulled at the bow at her neck. The black slip of fabric and her button up shirt quickly joined their red counterpart on the floor.

“You’re one to talk,” Vaggie chastised, what little edge there was in her tone softened by the timid look on her face before she turned away. The sight of Charlie’s half-naked body making her bashful, despite how much she knew Vaggie admired it.

Charlie loved that she was still shy like this. This sweet vulnerability that no one else got to see but her. Outside of these doors, Vaggie was constantly on high alert. Never allowing herself to be fully relaxed when anything could go wrong in an instant. To those who didn’t know her well, she must seem very stern. And while they may catch glimpses of the softness that hides underneath, it was only Charlie who got to bear witness to this side of her.

No walls, no threats, no guests. Here, it was just the two of them, safe and sound. Where they could completely let go and focus just on each other.

It was only too easy to get lost.

Charlie’s hands never felt like they were touching enough — her desire to caress and grab and hold easily outweighing her physical capability to satisfy her need. But she managed, reminding herself that they had all the time in the world as she pulled away just long enough to take Vaggie’s shirt off. She would pet her pretty angel for eons if that’s what it took, never tiring of how it felt to have Vaggie’s soft skin under her fingers. Unable to resist giving a testing squeeze to feel the lean muscle underneath.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

No matter how many scratches or bruises, bites or kisses Charlie gave, her hunger seemed bottomless. She needed more. More shaking, more heat, more goosebumps, more heaving breaths. More of those beautiful whines and moans, echoing off the walls of their room with the resonance of a bell tower. The fruit of her efforts ringing in her ears was nothing short of devious; a wicked symphony of cursing gasps as Charlie’s hand dipped under the hem of Vaggie’s skirt to palm over her panties.

Charlie chuckled and gave Vaggie a gentle rub, unsurprised to find that she was already wet. “My perfect girl… Have I really made you feel this good already?”

All Vaggie could do was hum and nod, the golden flush under her lavender skin renewing with force. Her eye opened just slightly, and Charlie was thrilled to see that her pupil was blown; a small yellow ring glowing against the surrounding pink. A hot wave of affection coursed through Charlie, dumbstruck again over how ethereal her girlfriend was.

While she hated what Vaggie was subjected to to end up here in Hell, she couldn’t help but be grateful for the twist of fate. God may have created her, but Vaggie was wasted on Heaven. She was always meant to be here with her. And though Charlie wouldn’t consider herself possessive, she was definitely proud.

There were very few things that made Charlie feel confident. A true, albeit sad, admission. And though that list was gradually beginning to grow there was one thing in particular that Charlie could easily say she was truly talented at. Being an excellent lover was an innate gift, a trait that was likely unavoidable given her parentage, and one that so many had to strive for success in, and even then struggled to maintain.

Charlie didn’t take it for granted, though it had been a long and bumpy road in terms of receiving as well as she gave. Awkward and disappointing memories of past relationships flashed through her mind, but she would never regret her efforts. Whether it was giving extravagant presents out of the blue, or rendering her partner speechless in bliss, Charlie was happy to do it. And when the returns began to feel like too much of a deficit she would walk away, left to wonder if she was to be forever burdened with an uneven scale of affection.

Her partnership with Vaggie was recompense.

Charlie was resolved to show her gratitude and slowly sank to her knees, kissing down Vaggie’s neck, an appreciative moan caught in her throat as she reached the top of Vaggie’s breasts. She brought her hand out from between Vaggie’s legs to teasingly rub and pinch at the softness of her thigh; her other hand kneading Vaggie’s left breast as she kissed the right. A wicked smile spread across her face as Charlie felt the angel’s nipple perk up, giving it a hungry lick over the lace of her bra. The roughness of the fabric against her tongue was a pleasure in itself, but nothing could compete with the way Vaggie’s chest heaved, her heart pounding just below.

She couldn’t bring herself to detach her mouth from Vaggie’s skin for even an instant, relishing the taste of it as she made her way to Vaggie’s other breast. Angels didn’t sweat, but seemed to be imbued with a sweetness she couldn’t place — somewhere between amber and honey that only the Divine could have conjured. Charlie swallowed a rush of saliva just thinking of what awaited her a little further down, using the opportunity to take Vaggie’s breast into her mouth. Her left hand massaging the other, while her free hand snuck behind Vaggie to run a mischievous claw down her spine before coming back up to unclasp her bra with ease.

With the give of the garment, Vaggie’s breast settled further into the heat of Charlie’s mouth, and she hummed as she suckled the sensitive flesh. Vaggie’s head fell back, a strangled whine leaving her as Charlie let the bra fall away. The warmth of their bare skin finally making contact, while Charlie’s forked tongue teased at Vaggie’s pert nipple.

“You always take things slow,” Vaggie pouted, writhing under Charlie’s touch in a silent plea for more. “Please, amor, I can’t wait… Not today.”

Charlie cursed around the flesh that was still in her mouth, Vaggie’s words igniting the kerosene in her veins. Her whole body was suddenly hot, the ache of her own need screaming to be sated as she tugged Vaggie’s skirt and panties down. Vaggie moaned at the show of force, quickly stepping out of the garments and peeling off her gloves before resting her hands behind Charlie’s neck.

Vaggie was a vision standing in only her stockings, and Charlie made no secret of her appreciation as her hands roamed the expanse of naked skin. Charlie squeezed Vaggie’s full hips as she pulled the angel closer, straightening herself up enough so that their mouths could find each other to indulge in a deep and languid kiss. Her hands now gliding over Vaggie’s thighs, ass, and waist — kneading and rubbing the suppleness of her body as she drank in every sound and twitch from her love. Vaggie’s impatient grinding against her torso too much to ignore as Charlie’s left hand made its long awaited return to Vaggie’s core, lightly rubbing against her folds before spreading them open to coat her fingers in the ambrosial slick she took such pleasure in inspiring.

“Is this better, Angel?” Charlie teased, licking the underside of Vaggie’s chin as she took in the ruined look on her girlfriend’s face. She couldn’t help the proud smile that tugged at her mouth as Vaggie’s hips rocked against her hand, begging for the fingers that had yet to enter her.

“Charlie,” Vaggie growled, her nails biting into the thin skin of Charlie’s neck in warning. “You know it’s — ah!”

Vaggie’s complaint was cut short with a swipe of Charlie’s thumb over her swollen nub, her hand finally applying a generous force as she massaged Vaggie’s sex. Charlie placed a kiss over Vaggie’s heart as she finally pressed in, unsurprised that she could glide two of her fingers into her core with ease. And while Vaggie had asked for a quicker pace, what good would it do to hurt the one she cherished over all others? Charlie knew the relief of being filled was enough to quell her impatience for now as she slowly worked Vaggie open, allowing her some freedom to grind into the base of Charlie’s hand.

As they found a rhythm, a string of barely-coherent curses tumbled from Vaggie’s mouth, her breath coming in hot puffs of steam against Charlie’s face that refused to look away. Charlie crooked her fingers and angled her hand so that she was passing over the spongy bundle with each motion, her pace fueled by the eager desperation of Vaggie’s body pulling her in. The room was a symphony of moans and heavy breath, underscored by the lewd wetness between Vaggie’s thighs.

Charlie always knew when Vaggie was close. It always started with a flex of her abdomen, a bite to her lip. Her walls squeezed around Charlie’s fingers as if wishing to commit them to memory, arousal pouring down her hand and landing in warm droplets that soaked into Charlie’s pants. If she had been feeling truly devious, Charlie would have pulled her hand away. Leave Vaggie to whine and bemoan the loss and draw out their fun for a while longer.

But it had been such a long day… Vaggie faced every challenge head-on and determined as she always did. And deep down Charlie wanted nothing more than to give back as much of the love and security that Vaggie gave to her, by whatever means were bestowed upon her to do so.

“Let go, baby… Cum for me, please, I’ve got you.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could even register that she had said them, with Vaggie’s orgasm quick to follow. She cried as her muscles and body spasmed while Charlie worked her through it, fingers pressing more than pumping as Vaggie’s hips rocked against her soaked palm. After a moment, Charlie withdrew her hand and brought it to her mouth, their eyes locked on each other as she lapped at the sweet arousal that was too precious to waste. She finished with a salacious grin, and hooked her arms under Vaggie’s thighs before rising off the floor.

Vaggie wrapped herself around Charlie, taking refuge in her strength as she placed soft and reverent kisses wherever Vaggie’s lips could touch as Charlie brought them to the bathroom. All their worries forgotten by the promise of a hot bath and another evening of finding refuge in their loving bed.

Meant to be, like ocean waves against volcanic shores.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear, @hazelfoureyes, @sugoi-writes, @fraugwinska, @macabr3-barbi3, @synamartia, @kewpikayo, @reinthechaosdeer

#chaggie #chaggie smut #chaggie fluff #chaggie fan fiction #hazbin hotel fan fiction #HGIWD2025 #lilith fund #helluvacommunity #hellsgreatestinternatinalwomensday #im so horny i cant think at all ahahah #and im about to read another friends fic #LORD HELP ME

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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GASPING AND PANTING LIKE A DAMN M U T T, UUUUUUGTYHHHHDHDVDHDHDHDHDHDHSJSJS

Hazel, how did you crank out this fucking BANGER so quickly 😩💦

The Big Part (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

A huge thank you to @darling-dovey for their donation to the Lillith Fund in honor of making today Hell’s Greatest International Women’s Day! @hellsgreatestevents 💖 I wouldn’t have written this otherwise

Alastor x Recently deflowered fem reader

You thought maybe you could find some relief outside of the Hotelier’s arms, but couldn’t bring yourself to go very far. Luckily Alastor has the mind, mouth, and tentacles to bring you anywhere.

「warnings/promises: SMUT, pussy is food and friend, I am not beating the food kink allegations omg, Alastor eats pussy like an ice cream, voyeurism, slight hint of maybe danger, heights are scary but pussy goes brrrrr, weird tongue, Alastor politely tells you to stfu and let him COOK, kinda territorial Alastor, biting, scratching, stupid title is a reminder I don’t take myself too seriously」

The Big Part: The Wettening

MDNI or I will institute a bed time

smut starts at this divider

You’d tried and failed to avoid asking Alastor for another night together. Sincerely tried, and spectacularly failed. Somewhere in pentagram city a very sweet aquatic sinner named Samael texted your phone worried, having not heard back since you left the bar ‘Tease’. Angel had kindly recommended it when you asked about places to meet new people. He saw through the euphemism.

But when you and Samael made out in a dark hallway, you found your mind stuck on Alastor.

When their hand slid up your skirt, you went still. They weren’t as soft as Alastor’s. They weren’t as warm. When Samael’s touch retreated to your hips, you felt another set materialize.

Alastor’s larger hands seemed to ghost over theirs as if he were in the wall behind you and pulling you back into his broad chest. A burning bright image of him flipping you onto your stomach in your bed appeared behind your clenched eyes.

Your tongue slowed in the sinner’s mouth. You could feel Alastor. You could sense him. Like hearing a sound that reminded you of a long lost feeling, every move made by your would-be new lover was mirrored with a triggered memory of the radio demon.

Their hands slipped up your shirt, fingers reaching your bra. Alastor had never touched you there.

“Little Doe,” echoed down the hall, your hands shooting up and pushing away the other sinner.

And you ran. Ran back to the hotel.

Where now you sat, perched on the mezzanine balcony of the lobby with your skirt around your waist and Alastor’s mouth on your inner thigh.

To see him on his knees outside of your bed was a fever dream. Maybe the liquor finally hit your bloodstream, maybe it was the warmth of his tongue, but you felt weightless at the sight. Did he know you were committing the scene to memory?

Dark red eyes watched your face intently. Every twitch of your brow was his to take in.

But a loud buzz made Alastor stop sucking purple marks along your skin.

Your phone vibrated its way out of your scrunched up skirt pocket and tipped out. Your gasp was sharp and you immediately turned to the sleeping Husk on the bar. But the crashing of your phone didn’t come.

Alastor’s shadow tentacle had caught it. Tenderly his appendage tilted the phone up so he could read the display.

Incoming Call

Unknown Number

Foolishly, you sighed the sinner's name, ‘Samael.’

And with that, Alastor dropped the phone and it hit the lobby floor with an echoing crack.

Your head tipped back to see Husk stir from his place on the bar, but your body kept moving. Your precarious spot atop the thin banister was lost as your body weight shifted too far in the wrong direction.

But much like the phone, you found your body cradled in several writhing appendages. Alastor was holding you safely above the lobby. As you caught your breath you peeked down at your phone. Shattered. Your heart fell a little with it, but bounced back and caught in your throat. Was he feeling jealous?

Territorial would be the better word, if you’d asked him. It was rude to offer yourself to someone and then seek out others.

The air cooled your kiss marked skin as the loss of his mouth started to settle in. Alastor was pulling his hair into a small pony tail and adjusting your position when you turned to see what his next steps were.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You croaked, a little braver now.

“I’m not very nice.” His tone was darker than his usual way of speaking. There was a threat in the lilt of his voice that made a shiver creep up your spine.

“Do you want to go to my room?” Your bravery waned as your suggestion came out a question.

On his knees, back straight, he brought your body upright. Through upsettingly long lashes, he stared up at you with an expression he hadn’t given before. A cutting edge to the gaze, a low level of agitation.

The conversation from when you made it back to the hotel floated to the forefront of your mind.

“If you wanted your next first taken, you should have asked. I thought we had a deal. They’re mine.” He’d hissed against your hair when you’d returned home, having stopped you on your way to the elevators.

“We never said tha-,” he didn’t let you finish.

“Oh? How odd! To think I missed the opportunity to offer my help formally.” He slipped past you, turning on his toes to lean down and present his hand. “I’ll continue to be your literal bedfellow, but all first experiences are mine to take.”

And you took it. You shook his hand and saw the terrifying true face of the radio demon in the flesh.

“Now, I believe I left off,” his hand slipped from yours and grazed your hip, “down here.”

“I was under the impression you liked open spaces like balconies, hallways.” His nails raked down the underside of your thighs. There was no pain, the scratch left unseen red lines behind that had a surprising reaction. Your pussy clenched at the stimulation.

The comment slipped past you, mind focused on his nose sliding up your inner thigh and now slowing. You didn’t need to ask him what the next lesson would be.

When his face met your center he opened his mouth and licked at your panties from the bottom swell of your ass to the top seam. His soft, wet muscle pressed in causing the now damp fabric to cling against your lower lips.

Another swipe, harder and slower, of his inhuman tongue.

Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth. If you tried to breath through your mouth you’d begin panting at the anticipation.

While you struggled to keep your composure, Alastor mused on how much he enjoyed eating. He found every piece of his meals delicious; every bite and every drop.

That precious breath you tried to conserve was squeezed out of your lungs when your whole body tensed. Alastor’s open mouth was planted around your entire cunt, tongue rolling over the thin cloth between him and you.

Your next breath was a gasp, followed by a moan against your clenched teeth. Husk was still downstairs. Still asleep. Still present.

Mercifully, Alastor rolled your panties down, slipping one foot out and letting them fall to the floor.

His eyes stayed on your now exposed quim as he spoke, “All this mess just for me?”

As you squirmed, you heard the barely audible canned studio audience laugh track coming from thin air around you. He’d seen you naked twice now but every time it seemed he lingered more and more. You couldn’t call his gaze loving or aroused though. The dimly lit balcony allowed his eyes to glow a little more, the soft red illuminating your lap like a fierce blush. Alastor looked reverent, you dared to think.

Alastor hadn’t considered sex that day, but this was something different. Some things were just enjoyable as they were, no pesky context or connotations. In life and in death he found himself always quite content to devour.

He’d hoped to elicit more from his virginal friend, to make you suffer and wiggle for a bit longer. But the sight before him, glistening and clenching pussy he knew only he’d touched before made him salivate. No one had eaten you out yet. No one knew your taste so directly. You’d yet to feel what a nimble tongue and fingers could do.

No, he couldn’t wait anymore.

Your thighs instinctively closed around his head when his tongue licked up your slit. No barrier anymore. Flattened and not too strong, Alastor ran his spit covered tongue over and over your pussy.

You felt like an ice cream. And you felt like you were melting just the same.

With slow and deep breaths you focused on keeping quiet. It wasn’t that anything was particularly intense. It was the novelty of someone’s mouth on the previously unseen part of yourself. In less than a week you had gone from asking a near stranger to aid in losing your virginity to getting eaten out suspended above the hotel lobby.

Everyone tasted a little different, everyone’s scent informing their particular flavor. He paused and buried his nose against the top of your clit and partially into your bush and inhaled deeply. He could sense the blood rushing beneath your skin. He could feel the faintest heartbeat in your now perky hooded bud of nerves. He could smell the sweat forming at the junction of your inner thighs and hips.

You watched his eyes roll back and shut as he took in your scent. His thin brows knit together and the faintest groan reached you.

Without opening his eyes, his lips slid apart and his long tongue followed after. Gently, as the appendage was soft and malleable unlike fingers, it slipped effortlessly inside you.

Small and thin, it seemed to push in for so much longer than made sense. You couldn’t tell if it was the new sensation being indecipherable for your brain or if his tongue was truly that extended.

His mouth lowered to bottom out into you, that pointy nose nudging the underside of your clit as he made small thrusts of the base of his tongue.

Weird. It felt weird. Not bad, just like something had slithered inside of you and was rolling around against your delicate walls.

A vulnerable moan from Alastor brought your attention back to the man behind the muscle. Your thighs were pressing in around him tighter with every push of his tongue against your internal g-spot. You’d found that button of sorts to be much more important than you’d known before Alastor’s lessons.

He pulled away, your legs parting with his sudden loss of contact.

“You’re too tense still.”

You huffed, eyes rolling, “How can I relax with your face on my… self.”

“I can feel it here.” A finger entered you, turned, and pressed up into the g-spot he’d just been licking. He pushed and you folded a little inward.

“This should be softer. Maybe I rushed in a little head long.” It sounded like he was thinking aloud rather than talking to you.

Large hands crept up your outer thighs and yanked you back onto his face, tentacles cushioning your back against the harsh wooden railing now digging into your spine.

They were more solid than you’d imagined, but you’d only seen them on static interference laden TV broadcasts. Scrolling headlines, ‘THE RADIO DEMON RAMPAGES’ ‘CANNIBAL OVERLORD DESTROYS CITY BLOCK’

Looking over your own body at the sinner whose mouth was returning to you core, a new chyron was proposed, ‘HOTELIER EATS RESIDENT’.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to relax like this.” His finger languidly pumped in and out of you, not making the kind of friction you had gotten used to from Alastor.

“You’re misunderstanding the use of the word here.” A gentle scolding spoken low and heady into your mound before a shockingly soft kiss to your pussy proper. Another, and then another. His mouth parted and again his tongue passed over your clit.

It reminded you of making out with Samael in the bar hallway earlier that night. Alastor had never kissed you, but why would he? This was purely a matter of checking off boxes for him.

He withdrew his finger, without removing his mouth, and pushed back in with two. Again he maintained a very slow, almost teasing pace.

“I didn’t think you’d want to— have sex again.” You felt the tightening in your lower abdomen. His fingers were rigid and when you writhed under the slurping and wide tongue caresses of his mouth they pushed and pulled at your entrance.

“I don’t. Not particularly.” When he looked at you over your own mons with hazy eyes, the neediness grew in you. His smirk widened, your cunt spasming around his digits.

“Then what is this?”

He shrugged, “For me? A snack.”

A pause to his snacking as he sensed your focus shift from his ministrations to the topic. With a sigh he again unlatched, “It’s your body. You decide what this is.”

The idea rolled around in your quickly emptying skull. Did you want to call it sex? Technically you were pretty sure it was… you briefly wondered what people considered it during Alastor’s lifetime.

A gentle suck to the top half of your pussy, overly sensitive clit only touched by the slick insides of his mouth, banished verbal thoughts. You gasped at the tender touch and let your eyes close. The warmth was inviting, and if you weren’t so precariously situated you’d maybe chase that heat with your hips.

He huffed through his nose, unhappy with something. Alastor liked the visual of hanging you over the banister, and the challenge of making you forget the very real danger of falling with just his mouth. But you still seemed distracted. His hair fluffed in agitation.

His forgotten claws gripped the flesh of your thighs, the slight tingle of the previous scratches was forgotten. Sharp pins of pain brought clarity to your loosening thoughts.

Alastor reluctantly lowered you to the carpet, head just shy of touching the banister. His shadow appendages, if anything so tactile can be called that, withdrew with a pop of static.

Relief flooded your busy nervous system and you genuinely found your body easing into the ground. Which softened beneath you, almost coming up to hug the curves of your body.

Your eyes opened to find the room darker than it had been. And when Alastor’s fingers crooked up with an exploratory hit to your g-spot your hands reached out and tried to grab the carpet. Instead you gripped and bundled blankets.

It was dark, but as your eyes adjusted you realized it was your room. The only light was the eerie sanguine color of his radiant eyes faintly seen between your legs.

And then they disappeared, and that flattened tongue style of licking like you were a quickly vanishing dessert returned in time with the fingers pulsing up and down inside you.

The mess of Alastor’s saliva mixed with your own lubrication was carrying the lightning shocks of pleasure like water with a live current. As he suspected, you weren’t giving in to the sensations properly in the lobby.

And he found it difficult to enjoy his meal when his dinner mate wasn’t comfortable with the venue.

In the lightnessless of your room, the absence of Husk’s snoring now a deafening silence that covered you and then dissipated like vapor, you could feel your body surrendering.

A wet noise rose to your senses, loud and sharp as Alastor’s tongue slipped up between your folds to gather and softly suck your juices off your skin. Another hungry moan from the deer demon and your hips rolled into his face for more.

It felt good, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how to finish. The normal pressure of an orgasm wasn’t building. A very literal ache echoed in your guts for penetration, to feel your insides jostled with the fervent slap of Alastor’s hips.

“I need more.” You whispered, “I don’t know how long I’ll… need, like this.”

His mouth came to your thigh and kissed the slick flesh there. You could feel how wet his chin was.

“Sex isn't all about the finish, you need to learn to just enjoy pleasure as it is.” That usual tone of his made the topic seem carefree and casual despite your twitching cunt just inches from his kiss-swollen lips.

You huffed a laugh, “I thought this wasn't sex.”

A quick bite to your thigh, “Hush. Do you want to continue?”

You nodded.

“Oh, yeah. Yes please. Sorry.”

“Little doe, leave your busy mind and let me enjoy myself.” He slid you down further on the bed and let his breath sink over your dripping sex. “Unless it’s praise or a boundary, stop talking.”

Another nod in the dark, you unsure if he could see or feel it, before his tongue returned.

Alastor lapped at your hole, his fingers not slowing as he traced your entrance around them with the tip of his tongue. He prodded lightly, briefly considering fucking you with all three, before he came home to his place at the top.

Every few minutes he would stop the somewhat erratic paced movements against your folds and clit to lick at the slick his fingers fucked out of you. The rewards of his tongue's labor. You were sweet. Not in the sense of a fruit, but in the way you made his taste buds rise and his saliva pool in his cheeks to taste more.

A taste only he knew. His hand lifted your legs and pushed them back, your pussy was squished between your thighs as they were a little closer together than they could be when his head was between them.

Soft. Your flesh was so soft as his face pressed in to get as much of his mouth as possible into contact with your body. His chin rested on his palm as his fingers bent and bullied your g-spot. It was squishy and gave away much easier, his sign you were unwinding beneath him.

Unlike the other times, Alastor found himself completely drifting away. A small trance set in as he found a deep pleasure in eating you out. Your gasps and pleas of where and how hard to lick were a drifting song. When your thighs began to shake in his palm, pussy tightening around his fingers, he opened his eyes to watch you in the darkness.

Your face was screwed up in focus, blanket fisted and pulled taut. He watched, enjoying your full body shakes as a small orgasm rolled through you. He knew one would bubble up if you just gave in. Alastor’s head moved side to side in small movements to let his lax tongue jostle your clit as you finished and began to unclench around him.

A sigh into your muff, his fingers pulling out slowly. He lowered his face and let your legs go slack before entering you one more time with his tongue to gather and suck what precious sweetness he earned.

You felt him adjust himself on the bed, the weight shifting on the mattress as he moved towards you, and wondered if he’d suddenly disappear again.

But instead you felt your face gripped in his hand, lips brushing against your. A flutter in your chest if you’d get a real kiss from him.

“Please do remember our deal. You’re not too cute to devour whole.” He tilted your head back and took a tiny nip at your jawline, “Next time you're wanting, come to my room.”

His body slid away from yours and made its way to the door. A pause in the sound of his steps as he considered something.

Alastor was a fair man. He gave warnings before he gave punishments.

“I don’t share.”

And as if entirely for the dramatic effect, he used the bedroom door to exit and shut it a little too hard behind him.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #fanfiction #alastor #hazbin alastor #hgiwd2025

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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My requests are officially open to raise money for the Lilith Fund!

I WILL BE WRITING FOR THE NEXT 24 HOURS STARTING NOW ♡

If you're not caught up, here's a bit about what's going on.

@hellsgreatestevents are hosting a charity event to raise money for the Lilith Fund. They are an American charity that supports people in being able to access abortions and reproductive health care.

This is a lengthy post, but I'm copying across everything so people know exactly what I'm doing.

Since I'm a multifandom blog, you're welcome to ask for any fandom I have written for. I can also provide an extensive list of all my fandoms if anyone would like.

If you send me a recipet as proof of your donation, I will:

Write headcanons/imagines or a 750 word oneshot for a donation of £5-£10. Write a 1.5k word oneshot for a donation of £10-£20.

What am I happy to write?

I will be doing SFW and NSFW stories. NSFW requesters MUST PROVIDE ID TO PROVE THEIR AGE by sending me a message on Discord: thelittlestlamb I will turn down NSFW requests if you have not provided me proof of age even if you have given me proof of a receipt. x Readers, ships, and stories not focused on a romantic pairing are all fine to request. Please check out these posts for more info on what I do and don't write: SFW/NSFW

What happens if I am not able to complete your request in the time frame?

I will still honour your request, and I will continue writing any leftover requests after the event (once I've had some sleep)! I will add you in some extra words too as a huge thanks!

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DONATE AND REQUEST, THE LINKS TO THE CHARITY ARE BELOW. None of the money goes to me, it all goes directly to the Lilith Fund. Let's raise some money ♡

How can I donate to the Lilith Fund?

Direct donations can be done through the Lilith Fund’s Homepage (credit card required) on https://www.lilithfund.org/donate

Donations can also be made through the Lilith Fund’s charity Paypal (Paypal account required).

US based supporters should use this link: https://www.paypal.com/fundraiser/charity/1747713

EU based members should use this link: https://www.paypal.com/US/fundraiser/charity/1747713

Please Note: Please use this exact link as the ‘normal’ US link won’t work for international donors! If you are a creator taking requests, please be sure to share this with your followers.

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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Me, at the fucking double doors of the church, burning at the first contact with Holy Water: Lemme in... LEMME IIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

(in all seriousness though, this has fucked me up in the BEST of ways and is so fucking inspiring. What the fuck. How can I be normal about this?)

To quote: "I will be a good creature," you promise.

AND THIS MOTHERFUCKER SAYS

"The best their ever was" (so gender affirming, BTW!!!!)

RAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHDHDHDHDBDHDBAHAHAHAHAHDHSJDBUSJSJSJ

(I also learned so many words reading this, how the fuck do y'all get so fucking LITERATE. SHARE YOUR SECRETS)

Confessional

Human Priest Alastor has a particularly committed parishioner with an unholy request. NOT APPROPRIATE FOR THOSE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Tags: SO MANY CHURCH REFERENCES, light voyeurism, temptation, bloodletting, church AU I guess if you wanna get technical, way too many big words for plotless smut

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

You kneel before a shadow, crossing yourself. You know the shadow's face, having spent countless Sundays smiling from your lips and weeping from between your legs during his service. You know that he can see you, perhaps even recognizes you. You're aware of the purpose of confessional, the supposed tenants guiding the practice, but you are not here to absolve yourself. You seek indulgence, not purification.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been eleven months since my last confession. These are my sins. I harbor impure thoughts, thoughts that I know have been given to me by the Lord. He is guiding us towards a union, perhaps to conceive, but for some holy purpose, regardless. There can be no other reason why you'd occupy my every waking thought, why my maiden's bed feels so cold and empty, as though incomplete without your body next to mine. Each and every night, I sin in that bed, allowing my own hand to guide me to an incomplete release. It never gives me any feeling of blessing, only of deeper desire to blaspheme. My soul is forever lost without your faithful shepherding, Father."

The shadow moves, clears its throat, no trace of emotion to be gleaned from his intonation.

"My dear child, you seem lost, confused. As a man I am flattered, perhaps even humbled, by this confession. But you must hold steady against these impure delusions, for God has placed me on a different path."

His rebuke only serves to hasten your desire. You feel yourself laden with honeyed need, leaking against the inside of your thighs through your underwear. You know he can see you kneeling, prostrating yourself before the judgment of your holy superior. Still on your knees, you lean back, hiking up the fabric of your skirt, pushing your hips up to present your ruined panties. "Holy Father, you are a servant of the Lord, are you not? Would you deny that one of your flock is in need? Would you leave them to temptation in solitude, with only their hands, the devil's playthings, for companionship?"

His voice betrays the first sign of will being tested. "This could just as easily be a test, a bit of trickery from the Devil himself."

"Who better to rid me of devilish desire than one who speaks on God's behalf? Who baptizes the young, unifies lovers, grants last rites to the condemned? Serve your Lord and banish this Devil from my loins, if you be pious, if you be merciful."

His voice is trembling now, thick with an intent you had hoped to provoke. You are intriguing him, winning him over. Summoning your courage, you draw your underwear down to your ankles, clumsily preening your sex the same way you have been whenever the heat between your legs burns like Hellfire. "See for yourself how the Lord makes me a conduit. Would you call this the will of the Devil? The need of a woman for a man?"

"I have taken an oath..." he stutters, choking on his own words.

"An oath to serve your parishioners... Would you bear witness to sin, knowing you can make it holy?" you bleat, the lamb on the altar, bound by ropes fastened to your soul. The Priest stands, and you can see his shadow making the mark of the cross, muttering a prayer to himself. Your self-defilement doesn't even slow, the low, wet sounds of hungry flesh accepting your phallic substitute the only sound in the confessional. In another moment, you hear the door opening, and your savior stands framed in the light of the jamb.

"Bless you, Father," you moan. He shuts the door, and in the dimness, you capture the full depth of his radiance. His brown hair drapes in front of his eyes, standing as a buffer between those nearly-black irises and the small circular frames that grace the bridge of his nose. A nervous sweat shimmers on his dark skin. His cassock is disheveled, his silver cross hung up on one of the higher buttons, collar greyed at the edges from sweat.

"We must make haste to rid you of this curse," he breathes, tugging at his collar. Thinking on its symbolism, he detaches it entirely, leaving it hanging on the doorknob. With rough strength, he brings you to the chair one could use to confess face-to-face, bringing your arousal level with him when he drops to his knees. He inhales, something within that bouquet seeming to pique his interest. "You reek of unholy desire."

"It has tormented me, Father."

"I can see now what you mean. It would be irresponsible to leave you in such a state. I shall grant you this mercy, my child. God will heal you through me."

With a slight tilt of his head, he partakes in your communion, his lips brushing over the outermost of your folds, murmuring a prayer against the electrified nerves. You can feel every syllable evoked against your body, sending ripples of heaven cascading through your system. You are certain that God's holy presence is being imparted from the teasing edges of his lips into your body. His tongue parts from between his pursed, muttering lips, lapping at the inside of your sex, searching for something buried deeper still. Your hands dare to caress his head, guiding him towards the spot he seeks. Charting into fresh territory, he stakes claim to it, his eager tongue seeking out places you've yet to even map yourself. Each press of it is a blessing, the burning ache in your flesh the doubtless throes of a demon being flayed from your soul.

"My dear, I'm beginning to wonder if I misjudged. Your taste is divine."

Your fingers dig into his thick locks, pressing him to persist even further, to reach past the purgatory of your desire. You feel his nose grinding against your most sensitive spot, something you have never had a name for, feeling every time he inhales and exhales, his mouth far too preoccupied with more concerning matters. You are fighting to keep your carnal affectations from becoming any louder than a whining wail you smother in the small of your throat, lest it be loosed completely unrestrained.

"You're doing well to keep your voice lowered," he praises you. "You are a true servant of your Lord."

"I-I am in his service," you affirm, your words snaring every time his tongue darts against your walls.

"Your dedication deserves to be rewarded," and he pushes himself as far as the limitations of flesh permit, lodging his lapping extremity so firmly within that you startle nearly upright, sharp nails that bite against the fabric of your clothes urging you back down. "He says 'be still and know that I am God.'"

You groan against the scripture being branded on your innards, a new sensation creeping across the tensed muscles of your legs. With a muffled moan, he is baptized in your release, and he offers a satisfied sound of approval. Your legs quake against the ceaseless undulating of his attentions, finally extricating himself when he's had his fill of you. He runs the long, thin thing that just concluded making a mess of your insides over his glistening grin, still slick from your consecration. Your focus drifts downward, to the crook that will shepherd you to salvation tenting the fabric of his soutane.

"Traces of habitation still remain, my child. We must take measures to save your spirit." He undoes the lower buttons of his robe, exposing himself to you, as he would have been in Eden. You can feel it against you, afire with purifying heat, sliding against your sopping entrance with anticipation. "Accept these rites."

"Bless me, Father," you whine, grinding yourself against him.

"Please, dear, call me Alastor." It's not permission; it's a demand. He waits, poised against you.

"Please give me your blessing, Alastor."

His lips curl into a grin, his canines so jagged and long that they're the first teeth you see. "God answers all prayers in good time." With a shove, he enters you, your teeth clenching, your breath shorting at the feeling of this union. He can't help but let a pleasured grunt leave his lips, and he catches your eyes as the last inch of him slips inside, brushing an errant strand of hair from your eyes. You feel cold, flushed at the overwhelming relief of finally being face-to-face with what you'd thought could only be in a fantasy. He gives a thrust, testing the waters, shaking your faith. You whimper against the force of it, still growing accustomed to the sensation of being taken. "Do you feel the sin drying up? The demonic need being purged?" Alastor wonders, driving himself into you with ever-increasing force, his restraint abandoned. "In its place will be holy admiration, a want to submit, as all of God's good creatures must possess."

"I will be a good creature," you promise.

"The best their ever was," Alastor croons, his jagged incisors hunting for the soft of your neck, carving runes against the submissive skin, seas of red pooling in the canyons. "Will your blood run black, as a demon's, or red, like the dust of the Earth? You have the allure of a succubus, but the taste of a virgin." His nails ribbon your collarbone, leaving oozing trails like spilled wine. He partakes of this communion with the same vigor as before, drinking it like an elixir. Your nervous hands grasp against his back, enfeebled fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing. Through all of this, his rutting has never slowed, increasing in desperation when he samples your blood. When he pulls away, you can see it trickling against his teeth, his tongue dragging over the surface to crudely clean them.

"I have dreamed of this, Alastor."

"Our lord works in mysterious ways," he assures you, clawed fingers still tracing thin rivulets across your skin. "I am nearly at my limit," he pants, burying himself against you. His thrusts finally slow, each push against you deliberate, purposeful. With his body laid against yours, his mouth is laid by your ear, and you can hear every facet of his breathing, every pant, moan, and inhale he makes broadcasting into your brain, the only sound you can hear. You are as close as he is, and you wrap yourself around him as he pumps into you one final time, his holy fire coating your insides, his assured breaths becoming high-pitched whines as he spasms against you, driving you to your own climax. It is nothing like what you've made yourself feel; it sends shockwaves through the taut fibers of your lower half, makes you cry out in uncontrollable lust, leaving your limbs clenched around Alastor as the last of his climax is left spilt within. You feel his chest heave with a deeply drawn breath, his sigh in your ear scattering chills across you. "Do you feel purified, dear?"

"I worry that I will have further need of your services, Alastor."

He pulls away from you, his smile sadistic yet sincere. "The clergy lives to serve, after all."

#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #radio demon x reader #the radio demon #Priest!Alastor #Human!Alastor #you have gained a loyal follower and a fellow kinky ass bitch #OMG #CHRIST #im sweating like a whore in church #BECAUSE I AM A WHORE #FUCK ME RUNNING

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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Absolutely obliterated by this. Barb, you managed to convert me

I'm fucking DECEASED, the positions and actions and imagery??? DELICIOUS

I'm late but Happy Valentine's Day y'all 💗 a huge huge huge thank you to my lovely @fraugwinska for this lovely banner she created for me for this fic bc I was struggling xD also a big thank you to my wives @hazelfoureyes @sugoi-writes @minkdelovely for the idea 👀

Vox has a very special outfit for you for Valentine's Day.

Tags: Vox in Lingerie; gratuitous descriptions of said lingerie; deepthroating; mirror sex; porn with Feelings™️

When Vox had shown up at your apartment door to take you out for an evening, he looked fantastic as he always did. You thought he looked great no matter what he wore- his usual business casual, the ‘dressed down’ version with his rolled up sleeves and just his vest, the shark adorned pajama pants you had gotten him as a joke that he slept in twice a week minimum. But this Vox was something you weren’t treated to often. That smooth, suave smile of his in place when he met you on the stoop; the dark blue of his complexion complimented by the smooth black fabric of his suit; a bright red flower perched in his breast pocket that matched the bowtie at his throat.

Perfection- he wore the brand of his company well.

He threw an arm around your shoulders confidently, only to nearly jump a mile when you threaded your arm around his back like you usually did. Eyebrow quirked, you smile when you see the blush that takes over his screen but allow him to guide you without comment into the back seat of the limo he had ordered for the two of you.

Setting into the comfortable leather, you go to rest your hand on his knee and he jerks out of your reach, scooting almost all the way across the seat. “You’re unusually jumpy today,” you remark, and the blush returns, tinted pixels across his screen that he probably doesn’t even realize are giving him away.

He waves you off. “It’s not every day I’m going on an honest-to-Satan date with a gorgeous Sinner on Valentine’s day,” he grins back, finally coming closer and wrapping an arm across your shoulders again, body angled slightly away. “Forgive a guy for being a little nervous- I don’t want to mess anything up tonight.” The smile he gives you is soft, downright adoring, and your own face flushes dark with heat as you look away.

The silence between you is never awkward. There had been times, when you were still just one of Velvette’s assistants, that moments that weren’t filled with talking or laughing or moaning felt stifling- as you had gotten to know each other that faded, and now you spent evenings in his penthouse seated at the bar together; looking over magazine spreads while he read emails in silence, hand clasped together resting on the countertop between you.

The restaurant he takes you to is fancy, expensive, and packed- like one would expect on a holiday like this one. But Vox, of course, had sprung for a VIP experience, seating you at a table on a balcony overlooking the crowd, soft candlelight filling the space and enough roses to choke a cupid. Ever the fashion enthusiast, you delighted in the opportunity to people-watch from above, eyes gliding appreciatively- and sometimes judgingly- across the outfits that the masses of Hell had worn out for the special occasion.

When Vox flags the waiter down, he catches his fingers on the edge of his collar and tugs gently- just enough to loosen the tightness of his bowtie a smidge. And as he does so you catch sight of it, a glimpse of bright color at his throat that contrasts beautifully against the dark navy of his skin.

Lace.

Your stomach turns with such a sharp bolt of arousal that you’re almost embarrassed by it. Your cheeks flood with heat while he speaks with the waiter, muttering as he gestured to the menu and complained about the wine choices that were available. His shirt has returned to it’s normal position; the sight you had caught was so brief that you could almost think that you had imagined the delicate scrap of red were it not for the conversation you had had with Vox months ago.

Tipsy on whiskey in his penthouse a few months into your entanglement, Valentino had swanned in to complain and strode out with the same sass he usually had about him, and your eyes had lingered as he spoke on the bright teal crisscrossed lines of the top he wore. They drew your eyes to specific places strategically- the arch of his collarbones, the V of his abdomen, the sharp angles of his hips. Val might have been an asshole most of the time, but you would concede that the moth knew what looked good; especially on himself.

Vox had caught the look on your face while his partner had been talking. “Got your eye on Val?” He had asked a little testily, eyes narrowed as his fingers settled a little more possessively onto your thigh where you sat next to him, legs draped sideways across his. “One powerful Vee not enough for you, doll? Trying to collect a set?”

You had rolled your eyes, scooting closer to fully perch yourself in his lap so you could run your fingers over his skin, trail them teasingly down the sides of his screen. “You’re the only one for me,” you assured him, and pretended you didn’t hear the little wheeze of relieved air from the fans on the back of his head. “I was just admiring Val’s outfit- pretty packaging is pretty packaging, regardless of the present underneath. He always looks good, especially when he wears stuff like that. I appreciate it when a man isn’t afraid of a little lace and color.”

He had chuckled, low and dark as he leaned in and trailed his tongue along the column of your neck. “I’m not afraid of anything,” he whispered, the heat of his screen warm and comforting against your cheek. “You wanna see me dolled up, is that it? Wrapped in some delicate, frilly nonsense like this?” He had slipped his hand up under your shirt then, his thumb brushing gently across the soft satin and lace that covered the underside of your breast, forcing a breathy moan from your lips to ghost across his screen. “I think it looks better on you, but… we could talk about it.”

“You- ahh, you would do that for me?” His claw had flicked across your nipple through the thin fabric, his other hand coming up to turn you so you were facing him properly in his lap and starting to divest you of your clothing, paying a little more attention than he normally did to properly taking your underthings off rather than just tearing them. “Really?”

You remembered how turned on you had been just at the implication- that he would dress up for you, put that ruthless businessman facade on the shelf for a bit so you could ogle him in pretty clothing, maybe even lingerie if his automatic pull to your own undergarments could be a hint at what he would be willing to do. He had agreed enthusiastically as he stripped you, but once your clothes were off the idea had taken a back seat to riding Vox until his screen glitched out.

You thought he had forgotten; something he had probably dismissed as drunken rambling on your part, and an unspoken promise he would never have to fulfill on his end. But now that the possibility of it was there- that he was wearing something soft and pretty under his suit, just for you- you couldn’t shake the consuming lust that now boiled low in your abdomen, a flutter of the walls of your cunt at the thought.

The thought of it was hot- confirmation would be devastating.

You had to know. You wait until the waiter leaves and then you toe off one of your impractical heels and reach across the scant distance under the table, and Vox jerks in his seat when you make contact with the clothed surface of his calf. His eyes are wide when he looks up at you, the blush back in place, and the fact that his usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found is the most damning evidence so far- this would hardly be the first time you had fooled around in public. Any other night he would be scooting his chair around to be closer to yours, sliding his fingers up under your dress to find you bare of any panties, casually unzipping his slacks under the cover of the tablecloth.

That he freezes like a deer is all the proof you need.

You brush your toe teasingly along the back of his muscle, leaning forward with your elbows on the table. “You look really good tonight,” you say, just loud enough for him to hear without having to enhance his audio processors.

He tries to play it off, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap as he chuckles. “That’s all part of the image, baby,” he tells you. “I can never look less than my best when I’m out- that’s why I keep you on my arm.”

He’s trying to deflect, you can tell- he knows something is up, that you suspect. But you didn’t end up a permanent fixture in Vox’s bed by playing coy about what you wanted, so you let your foot trail even higher, along the curve of his knee to rest on the firm muscle of his thigh. And there- Something firm under the fabric of his pants. You could feel the seam of something- a garter maybe, which made your breath catch and your panties damp. He hadn’t just thrown on a pretty top under his clothing and called it a day.

He had dressed up in a whole set for you.

You tug lightly at the strap that you feel under your foot, and Vox’s screen whites out for a moment. When his face blinks back on, an error message runs along the bottom: ohfuck.exe repeated in a rapidly blinking line. “Mmm, but I think you look extra good tonight. You know how I feel about good things in pretty packages.” You reach the final distance across the space between you, settling your foot directly in the gap between his thighs and pressing lightly. “Do you have something for me to unwrap later, Vox darling?”

And Sweet Satan, what a thrill it was to watch one of the most well spoken and influential men in Hell stutter over his words as he tried to speak. “I don’t- ahem, I’m not sure what you mean?” He stiffens his shoulders, grabs your foot between his legs in an effort to regain control of the situation. “And even if I did, something like that would be a surprise.”

You can feel the swell of his erection through his pants even as he tries to divert the location of your foot away from it. “I’m certainly surprised,” you concede, “and I can’t wait to see everything you have in store for me.” The waiter returns to pour you both a glass of some fancy wine that you can’t pronounce, and you take a sip while watching him over the rim of your glass through lowered lashes. After taking your orders he steps away again, and you admit defeat and remove your foot from Vox’s grasp.

That doesn’t mean that you’re giving up entirely though. “Why don’t you join me over here?” You offer, gesturing to the open space beside you while you use a toe to drag your heel close and slip it back on- you flutter your lashes deceptively. “I promise I’ll behave.”

You had no plans to do any such thing. And he doesn’t look like he believes you, but he scoots his chair closer anyway, careful not to disturb the table as he moves to sit in the most optimal position for you to misbehave under normal circumstances- on your right, with his back facing the thick curtain that blocked you from the rest of the restaurant. In a show of good faith, you keep your hands to yourself for the moment, pleased when he leans over to press a light kiss to your forehead before settling back into his chair.

You wait until he’s taken a sip of his own wine before reaching over to ghost your hand along his spine.

Vox chokes, quietly coughing under his breath while you touch him over his suit. And you can feel it; the thick strip of a bra where the hooks rest, the straps that reach up over his shoulder, some other pieces that you can’t identify but are dying to set your eyes on. You’ve hardly started to reach towards his waist to see what delights awaited you there when he finally regains his composure and grabs your arm. He intertwines his fingers with yours and sets them together firmly on the table.

“What happened to behaving yourself?” He says lowly, and you reach across with your other hand to caress the edge of his casing.

“How can I behave myself when I know something so tantalizing is waiting for me when we get home?” You tilt your head to one side, giving him your most pleading look. “I’m more than half tempted to forgo dinner altogether to get what I want, but I know you put a lot of thought into the date.”

You’ll never tire of watching his screen go red with an artificial blush. “Actually most of the actual planning went into the- surprise,” he admits reluctantly. “Who knew custom-made items like this took so long to make? The reservation was a well placed phone call and a threat to drag their name through twelve different kinds of shit on every channel; I just thought you’d want- you know, a little more of that romantic shit than we usually go for.”

You can feel your seductive expression fade and go soft, and you squeeze his hand tightly in yours. “I am having a great time here,” you tell him, “but in truth, there’s very few things that I can think of that are more romantic than knowing you’ve stepped out of your comfort zone- clothing wise- to do something fantastic for me.” You reach out and tug at his bowtie, getting another hint of that red fabric under his collar before you lean in, whisper gently into his audio processors. “It’s incredibly sexy and I haven’t even seen it yet.”

“Fuck me,” he breathes out. His screen glitches again, a fleeting crackle of white across it before he coughs and straightens his shoulders. “Right then- if you’re okay with it, doll, I suggest we get the fuck out of here.” He stands and offers you a hand, the picture of a suave gentleman- anyone else would never think that he was rushing to leave so you could strip that suit off him to see the lingerie he wore underneath it.

“Perfectly okay with me.” You take his hand and let him lead you out of the balcony, swiping the bottle of wine on your way. Vox ignores the protest of the waiter as he pulls you along, and the certain ridiculousness of the sight- Hell’s most notorious CEO dragging his girlfriend out of a distinguished restaurant by the hand while she clings to a pilfered bottle of expensive wine- was enough to make you laugh, a loud sound that drew attention as the pair of you raced through the restaurant. Vox heard the sound and grinned over his shoulder at you, a text bubble in the bottom corner of his screen confirming that his driver was already waiting at the front.

You pile into the limo, careful not to spill the wine as Vox clambers in after you, pulling you in close to kiss at your throat. “I hope you know how fucking nerve-wracking this has been,” he mutters, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. “The things I do for you-”

“Are very much appreciated,” you say, “and definitely getting you laid tonight.” He groans into your ear, hot and low, and nearly sputters when you pull back. “But we’re not fucking in the limo. We’re waiting until we get home so I can peel that sexy fucking suit off you and see exactly what you have for me.”

He grumbles under his breath as you separate and take a long swig of the wine straight from the neck before passing it over to him.

The ride back to Vee tower feels too long, and your skin buzzes with anticipation, adrenaline and a simmering arousal that makes you feel as though your blood is on fire. You’ve hardly pulled into the parking garage before Vox reaches across the seat and pulls you into his chest, the door opening while the vehicle was still moving to zap the pair of you into the tower’s electrical system.

You’re deposited directly into the Penthouse bedroom; as reluctant as you are to pull away from him, the lights are completely out and the whole point of this was to see him. You mumble as much into his throat and he changes whatever setting he has to bring the room to brightness before you bite down and suck a dark bruise into the skin- one that would look lovely above that first bit of red lace you had seen.

He releases you and reaches for his buttons, nerves giving a barely noticeable tremor to his hands. “Just gonna sit back and enjoy the show?” He asks, and an eyebrow quirks when you still his fingers with your own and move them out of the way.

“Let me,” you say. “I want to be the one to do it- to unwrap you. You have no idea how much I need this.” And at your request his hands fall limply to his sides to let you have your way.

Inch by inch his suit was divested, revealing a vision so tantalizing you had to fight to keep your hands on his clothing instead of his skin. Vibrant red everywhere you looked- as you unbuttoned his shirt you were treated to a feast of silk and lace that clung to his skin like it had been painted on with a masterful, loving hand. What appears to be a fabric collar rested at his throat, the culprit of the first glimpse that you had gotten back at the restaurant- it sat pretty in the hollow of his throat, a strap bisecting his chest before it parted ways to wrap around his back, just above his waistline. The bra that covered his chest had nothing to truly fill it, but your mouth watered regardless when you tested your restraint and dipped your thumb beneath the cup to brush across one of his nipples- likely sensitive after wearing the unfamiliar material so long, Vox hissed at the sensation as you continued to undress him.

Reaching the buttons at his abdomen, a tight corset is hidden beneath the fabric, straps descending below the waistline of his pants to attach to the long socks that he had mentioned. The need to see him overwhelms you, your panties soaked beneath your own clothes that you hadn’t bothered to start removing yet, but the strip was part of the fun. You got to watch him lose his breath as you popped the button on his slacks, letting them simply pool high on his thighs where your leg was shoved between them while you positively drool at the tight cinch of his already thin waist. It doesn’t seem to be cutting into his skin, fitting like it was made for him- and knowing that he likely wouldn’t have gone to Velvette for this, you wonder distantly how he had gotten something so perfectly custom. You take a half step back, letting the fabric of his pants finally fall to his ankles without your thigh between his legs in the way.

Fuck.

Thigh high stockings, a sheer crimson, encase his legs, held in place by a simple snap that connects to the corset. And at the apex of his thighs, dainty panties that make the swell of Vox’s erection look obscene. You allow yourself a moment of contact, a hand placed gently on his arm to turn him so you could take a look from the back as well; he complies without protest, rotating on one stocking-clad heel. The back of his body is another landscape of beauty, dark navy interrupted only by the occasional light mark of a scar and the lingerie. Normally you didn’t pay much mind to his ass- he was obsessed with yours, but never gave you much of a chance to ogle his in return- but the thin strip of scarlet that peeked between his cheeks made it look pert, plush. The top of the panties rested enticingly on his hips, just below the bottom of the corset; the lines that the rest of the ensemble made were just as maddening, crisscrossed along his back and bringing your attention to the subtle musculature of his entire body, covered as it was in soft, sweet packaging. The femininity of the ensemble emphasized how toned he was, delicate frailty adorning his masculine form in such a way that you ached to press trembling lips to everything you could reach.

“Sweet Satan,” you finally mutter under your breath, the air leaving your lungs in the face of such awe-inspiring sensuality, and Vox stiffens up in front of you.

“Haah, finally gonna say something?” He asks, his hands clenching into fists at his side- you can tell he’s fighting the instinct to move them, to cover himself up. “Not as good as Val makes it look, I’m sure, but-”

“Shut up,” you interrupt him sternly, “and let me look at you.”

Your silence until now seems to have made him self conscious, like he didn’t just know somehow that your restraint was a mere thread of a tether keeping you from shoving him into the bed and clearing any thoughts from that boxy head of his. You turn him around again, this time allowing yourself to touch the bits of bare skin beneath your fingers until he’s facing you again, then stepping up on your tiptoes to kiss him with a shuddering breath.

He finally touches you back, pulling you closer as you slip your tongue into his mouth, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your soft stomach. This was always one of your favorite parts of spending time together- unhurried kissing, gentle touches, simply taking the time to drink your fill of one another. “How can someone so intelligent,” you ask him as you pull away from his screen, “be so blind?” You press your lips to his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of his heart where you’re connected, another physical reminder of the way that you affect him beyond making him hard. He’s nervous to be exposed in front of you like this, unaware of how desperately you need him, how fucking fantastic he looked doing this for you. How much you adored him in any state that he would offer himself to you.

You step away at last and give him a gentle nudge towards the bed; his knees simply give out, not so much sitting as falling onto the edge of the mattress, his hands coming out to the sides as a support to keep him upright. You settled yourself on your knees before him, reaching up to wipe a spot of red drool from his screen where it had fallen from his slack mouth.

“Stunning,” you said softly, running your hands up and down the warm skin of his thighs around the straps of the garters. His screen tints with the red of his blush, another color well complemented by the stark red of the lingerie he wore. His cock strains against the fabric of the panties, a dark spot at the tip where he’s been leaking since you started to undress him, and the sight makes your mouth water. You start at his knee, placing light kisses and gentle nips to the soft skin there before slowly moving upward, lips trailing the whole way.

When you reach the garter you hold it aside with a finger so you can slip your tongue underneath it, dragging the muscle across Vox’s heated flesh. “You’re so fucking sexy,” you tell him, and in your peripheral vision you can see the muscles of his abdomen clench, his cock jerking against the thin barrier of the panties. “I knew you would look so good in something like this- in anything really but fuck. I can’t decide if I want you to keep it on while you fuck me or if I want to tear it off with my fucking teeth.” You bare your sharp canines with a grin before pressing a kiss high on his upper thigh, close enough to the apex that you can feel the heat radiating off of him against your cheek. “You like that, right? Or at least, you like to be the one taking it off me. How does it feel to be on the other side of that?”

He groans low and deep in his throat, reaching a hand out to brush across your hair. “Fucking touch me already,” he demands, but his voice is thin and rife with a plea. ‘Come on, I got all dressed up for you- don’t I deserve a reward or something?”

“You deserve,” you tell him, finally coming closer to his cock and blowing a hot breath over the strain of fabric, “to be worshipped. Every fucking inch of you.” You ghost air along the length of him, finally leaning in far enough to place an open mouthed kiss along the shaft and suck lightly. You can feel the satin go damp under your lips as you work your way up, finally reaching the patch of fabric that was wet from his doing and savoring the salty taste of it under your tongue.

Vox groans above you, his voice rough with want and his cock spurting precum against the panties. It peters off into a whine when you bring your hands up to gently cup his balls, rolling and tugging them the way that you’ve learned he likes. “Fuck, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” he mutters. “I didn’t think you would like it this much, shit.”

You hum around what remains in your mouth, pressing a firm kiss to his covered cock as you pull back. “You underestimate how much I adore you,” you say, “and how good you look right now.” You slip a finger under the waist of the panties and pull them down slightly so you can take him fully into your mouth, the taste of him all musk and salt as you run your tongue along the underside. His fingers twist into your hair, firm and controlling, and his breath leaves him in a rough exhale when you suck hard. You bob your head, all suction and warm, wet heat around him, and the flex of his muscles under you is unbelievably sexy- you keep one hand running sensually up and down his calf, his thigh, wherever you can reach from your position between his legs.

The words that escape him are a litany of gibberish, phrases of “baby, fuck, please” that make your head buzz and your abdomen clench while you listen to him and drive him closer and closer to mindless pleasure. When you look up, his eyes are trained on you- his gaze is pleading molten heat, and he reaches another hand down to settle in your hair. “Please, sugar, fuck, please,” he’s begging, and knowing what he wants you let your throat relax so he can nudge you down further on his length. The head of his cock brushes the sensitive back of your throat and pushes further, muscles involuntarily convulsing at the intrusion.

You breathe through your nose as well as you can, unwilling to even blink at the picture before you. Vox’s eyes are closed now, his screen flashing static on and off with every flutter of your throat around him. He doesn’t let you do this often even though you both fucking love it, too afraid of hurting you to let you indulge in literally choking on his cock more than a couple times in the months since you had started seeing each other and become official. You think in this case you might like it even more than he does- something about being so completely full of him, his words a rush of pleas and curses and your name, makes your body tremble with want for him. You would do anything for him, just as he was doing for you- the very least you could do in return for the lingerie was making him spill down your throat before moving on to other events.

You redouble your efforts, once again gently handling his balls as you try to swallow around his cock. He swears, his breath heavy and labored as he pants your name and pulls you back ever so slightly. Your airway no longer blocked, you hum and moan, so determined to please him it aches in your chest. “God, baby, I fucking can’t- can’t hold on, you’re so good,” he praises, and his grip in your hair is released in favor of petting lovingly over your head, cupping your cheek. His hips jump beneath you, trying to buck forward as much as he can, pushing towards the back of your throat again.

You allow the motion, knowing how close he is- wound tight like a string, his whole body- decorated in lace as it is for you- is tensed and shaking, sweat pooling in the hollow of his abdomen, coating his skin. You take him as far as you can again, and he nearly sobs as he spends himself, thick and hot in your mouth.

He collapses back onto the bed, one hand coming off your head to reach blindly towards you. You take it, intertwine your fingers as you swallow and pull back, licking him clean before resting your head on his thigh. “I fucking love you,” he mutters, and this sends another shock of pleasure through you. Not just a physical sensation, it lights up your brain in the best way, and you press a kiss to the bared skin before you. “Seriously, you have no idea-”

“I do,” you tell him, and keep your hand in his while you try to stand from your position on the floor. You back up as much as you can while still holding his hand to get a look at the picture he makes- wiped of any stress, still lovely in his lingerie, his not-entirely-spent cock hanging out of the panties and resting against his abdomen, ready for whatever comes next. He was never done after just round- you sometimes went three, four times in a night before you were both fully satisfied, and you hoped this was one of those occasions.

You would never have enough of him. You would spend the rest of your afterlife in awe of this man and the lengths he went to make you happy in any capacity.

You release his hand long enough to strip yourself, clothes flying in all directions as you undress as quickly as you can to join him on the bed. You settle next to him and prop up on one elbow, looking down at him with a smile until he senses your gaze and opens his eyes, a confident, satisfied smile on his screen. “Hi, gorgeous,” he tells you, and you bend down to kiss him while letting your fingers roam over the landscape of his lace covered body. He returns the favor, grazing the tips of his claws over your bare skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Does this mean it’s my turn?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, nuzzling into his throat, your nose tickled by the lace there. “I’m not done ravishing you yet.”

“I’m a very good multi-tasker,” he whispers, dipping his fingers between your thighs to find you slick and open when he presses into you. “Come on, sweetheart, I know you can think of at least one position that benefits us both.”

And damn him, you can- several, if you’re honest, but only a few of them give you what you want, which is being able to see him, letting him see himself. You think you’ll settle for your own view in the meantime, let him crawl between your legs and hook your knees over his strong arms and have his way with you. His cock was already hard again, leaking onto his abdomen under your attentive fingers trailing over his skin, and when you grip him lightly he grins, sated and cocky while he crooks his own fingers inside you the way that you like.

His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan at the sound of your breathy whine, pulling away from him to provide room for him to roll to his knees and hover over you. Perpendicular on the bed, you let your head fall back over the edge of the mattress, catching sight of the mirror that hangs off the closet door across the room as Vox positions himself and sinks into the soaked, silken heat of you. It’s perfect- if he looks up from where he’s currently watching himself slide slowly in and out of the tight grip of your body he’ll see what you see, the breathtaking view of him covered in fragile crimson that clings to the lines of his frame.

He sees it a moment after you do, redirecting his gaze from where he’s spearing you on his cock to your extended throat, finally to the mirror directly across from him. His smile goes dangerous, catching your eye in the reflection. “Clever,” he says appreciatively, watching himself bring a hand down to hold your hip as he jerks his own forward, a thrust that steals your breath and makes your body jolt. “Now we both get to watch, hm?”

He sets a steady rhythm, an even rocking of your bodies that sets a fire licking at your blood as he loses himself in it; every now and then his eyes drift closed or he glances away from the mirror, focusing instead on the sway of your tits as he fucks you or the grasp of your fingers on his where he has a hand planted for support. He’s drawn back time and time again though, finding his reflection and staring as if transfixed by what he sees, by what you’ve seen the whole time- beauty, plain and simple, in whatever he wore, all that he did.

“Looks good,” you manage over the slick noises of your sex, eyes trained on the strap of his bra that had slipped from his shoulders and now hung loosely by his bicep. You reach up and fix it for him, then wrap your fingers around the lace bit at his throat to pull him down to meet your lips. “Perfect,” you whisper into his mouth, and the desperate noise that he makes in response makes you clench hard around him, the walls of your cunt flooding with evidence of your arousal and fluttering over his cock. “Come on, say it.”

He lifts his head slightly, and you watch him look over his own form, screen to shoulders to where the sight fades to darkness where you’re connected. “Fuck, looks fucking good,” he agrees, “feels good.” He slows down, drags out his withdrawal from your core until just the head is left inside of you. He repositions the hand on your hip, slips it underneath you to grab your ass and pull you even harder into his thrusts when he resumes, watching the way his muscles flex and contract between the swatches of red. He was so fucking strong, and the lingerie only highlighted that rather than taking away from it in any way. You love the way he’s looking at himself, finally seeming to understand why you wanted this if the way he pants is any indication when his pace quickens, fingers digging into your supple flesh.

When you reach your free hand down to rub at your clit to race him to the finish line he swats your fingers out of the way, bringing his attention back to you. “Fuck, baby, let me do it,” he begs, pressing the pad of his thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves, untouched so far but electrifying when he makes contact. “Wanna make you come, you’re so fucking good to me-”

Ever the perfectionist, once he’s put his mind to something- he knows your body as well as his own, knows the exact pressure and speed that has you pushed over the edge with a hoarse cry of his name. Light explodes behind your eyelids, pleasure ripping through your limbs like a flash of electricity that starts and ends where you’re connected; Vox is still chasing his own end, his thrusts faltering as he keep his fingers working you through it, his voice a distorted stream of “yes, fuck, please” interspersed with your name and terms of endearment.

Static flashes across his screen as he tips over the precipice, his voice caught low in his throat as he grunts and pushes hard against you, claws digging dangerously into the skin of your ass and pulsing hard in the grip of your cunt. When he pulls out he slips his fingers in where his cock had been, open and messy, coating his fingers in your combined releases before bringing them up to wind his tongue around them, sending another devastating beat of pure want through you despite the fact that you’ve just finished.

He finally slides his knees back and collapses on top of you, the warmth of his screen comforting where he’s pressed against your clavicle, and you let your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and trace light trails along his back. The lace of his ensemble was a little itchy where it touched you, and your appreciation of the night increases tenfold as you realize he had put up with it for you, to give you this. You land a kiss on his casing and feel him smile against your skin, pressing one of his own to your sternum.

“You really know how to make a man feel like the most important guy in all of Hell,” he murmurs, the words ticklish and soft. “Even looking like this.”

You tip his head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll tell you my secret- it’s because you are. To me, anyway,” you add with an embarrassed flush. “Naked or decked out like this, your suits, your pajamas; you’ll always be the center of my attention for the simple fact of who you are and what you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you too, but come on,” he says with a chuckle, gathering you to his chest and flopping back into the silk sheets. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

You grin, your limbs relaxed and pleasantly tingly as you rest your head on his chest. “Can’t help it- you just look so good in red,” you tease, plucking at the strap of his bra, and your laugh is lost into his mouth when he pulls you in for a final searing kiss.

fun fact Vox's blush was purple until the very end of this fic and then I went back and changed it so I could use that last line LOL

another huge thank you to my beloved Frau for finding this GORGEOUS lingerie as inspo for what Vox is wearing, I owe you my life

so uhhh yeah 6.5k words of me thinking Vox would be extra hot in this. enjoy lol

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #x reader #vox fanfiction #vox smut #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU, KIND SOUL

Part 2 is gonna be amazing 😭❤️

Happy Valentine’s Day/Day Before Discounted Candy, especially to @dontfuckbutimfab

With his donation to the Lillith Fund, I am making the part 2 now for Fuck Joke Around and Find Out (Ace Alastor x Clueless Ace Reader) ! It will be released for Hell’s Greatest International Women’s Day. I never would have made a sequel but! They’ve kindly asked and donated so 🫡 and inspo has hit heheheh

donate and request something with this info for Hell’s Greatest International Women’s Day or share ! 💖

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sugoi-writes · 4 months ago

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Free face reveal, whores ❤️ (I'm in the middle Heheh)

Are you writing anything special for Valentine's Day💕💕💕

Not this year… I was going to post Loss of Decorum part 3 but instead I’m offering it up for private reading to $50+ donations to Lillith Fund for Hell’s Greatest International Women’s Day ! If you make a donation for $5+ I’ll write you a snippet of something juicy 👀 but as for Friday….

My Valentine’s Day is being spent with @sugoi-writes and @minkdelovely !! 🤯 ❤️ we’re going to Pensacon together! 😭

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Hazbin Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

#hazbin hotel #Lillith fund #Hell’s greatest international women’s day #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel smut #face reveal #itsa me

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sugoi-writes · 5 months ago

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✨💖✨ If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better ✨🌻✨

Hi, Anonie (And yes; anons are on for now)

Thanks for being a sweetheart. ❤️ I have a few of these that flow in every once in a while. Idk if it's all the same person, or someone new everytime... But I see them. ❤️ I see you! :3

I know I've been hardly posting at all. Kinktober and Life just absolutely took me out. Maybe I'll be back soon, and maybe I won't ❤️ but I'm trying, I promise

I hope you and the other lovelies out there have a great day 🌞❤️

#anon ask #anon #danny rambles #danny speaks

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sugoi-writes · 6 months ago

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Cosplan / Demand 2025

I hope y'all are ready for this 💋

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #adam first man #hazbin hotel cosplay #im so fucking EXCITED MAN #ive been dreaming about doing this for ages #if it doesnt look bad i promise to share #hahah #EEEEEEP

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sugoi-writes · 6 months ago

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Grrrrhhh... Nhhh...GRRRAGH!! RAGH!! BARK BARK BARK!!! BARK! AWOO!!!

(If I'm a rake, then I am Alastor's rake, forever and always)

GOTT DAMN HAZEL 😫💦

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHavingGN!Reader, casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor’s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike.

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it.

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful.

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.”

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon.

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate.

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so.

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté.

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body.

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him.

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting.

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was.

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you.

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before.

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in.

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in.

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced.

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you.

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time.

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off.

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost.

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold.

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked.

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance.

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous.

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now.

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way.

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard.

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise.

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all.

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing.

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips.

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why.

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward.

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure.

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.