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đŠGood Girl (Mystery x Manager Reader smut)
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đŠ 7/15/25 - updated this page for the first time in months
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Alastor x Reader
A Misdemeanor Masterlist
In Contempt Of Love MasterlistLucifer x reader
Lucifer & His Fallen Angel Adam x Reader
Adam's Stalker (Adam x REaDer)
Valentino & Velvette fics
Home is where Vox's Heart is Vox x Reader
Flowers
Snack Shelf (short mini HH fics)
AN: Thank you for your patience while I've been sick! We're back to normal for a short while with a break for two weeks at the beginning of Aug
CW: Smut talk. Political SA accusations.
Welcome Post__AO3__KoFi Want a bonus chapter on Wednesday? Unlock it via KoFi updates! More information here(Paused for a few more weeks)
Chapter 5
Monday morning left you feeling no more settled than you had the morning after Adamâs rally. While you prepared for the day ahead, likely another day of monotonous writing, you tried to keep your mind off your moment of weakness the night before.
When you turned the TV to VoxNews, you told yourself it was in the name of research and thatâs what you had intended for it to be. You were going to learn more about what made him good at what he does and why his viewers believed the never ending piles of steaming bullshit the station spewed.
You didnât set out for what happened. Just as you hadnât set out the night of the rally to spend it with Voxâs cock buried deep inside you.
But it happened. As you sat on your bed, back against the wall, you watched as Vox highlighted the risks of vaccines. There was a grain of truth in what Vox was promoting on his station. There was always a grain of truth. Thatâs what made a lie good, made it believable. This was no different.
There had been a recent discovery that common vaccines given in childhood was associated with increased heart disease and wear on the heart muscles. While Vox and VoxNews were presenting this as a radical new discovery, it was a tenuous link between the condition at best with it hard to say if the condition was actually on the rise due to the vaccines or if it was a combination of people living longer and a greater ability to detect the minor damage in the heart that resulted from living a longer life.
Either way, you stopped listening to the words Vox was saying and focused in on the sound of his voice. He sounded so good. His words came out confident, smooth and dripping honey.
Your hand caressed where his hands once touched you. Before you knew it, you were slipping your simple red tentacle dildo between your slick folds and up into your opening.
It didnât feel like him as you pumped it in and out of your slick sex but that was a minor concern as your mind went to work. What mattered is that you were seeing him, watching him again. With your other hand you held your buzzing vibrator to your clit while Vox ranted about imaginary sins of good people who were just living their lives.
You came as he slammed his fist on the desk, listening t his rising voice but not the words, let alone the message they carried.
And then? You clicked off the TV and tossed your toys to the side of your bed, Youâd clean them later. You pulled your blankets back, slipped under and gave the cord hanging from your bedside lamp a single decisive pull, sending you into darkness and a sleep that was restful, if shameful.
Shame coiled in your stomach as you pulled your legs up, curling around yourself as your pussy twitched, still sensitive with the recent orgasm. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to tell yourself you hadnât done anything wrong.
It was natural. It had nothing to do with Vox. You were just trying to research.
But maybe thatâs how Vox got to people. His anchors were all attractive, just as he was. Did he get under peopleâs defenses with a pretty face? With a voice that made cocks hard and panties wet?
Was sex appeal really enough to make people forget their morals?
You didnât think so. You were above that. You wouldnât fall down that line.
Each step toward the office put distance between you and your latest sin.
It was one you were not going to repeat. Just like fucking Vox was a mistake you wouldnât repeat. Each were moments of weakness.
âHusk wants you,â Angle handed you a cup of coffee as soon as you walked into the office.
âOn a scale of one to âgo to the barâ?â You took the coffee eagerly and took a deep breath.
âLike, three,â Cherri offered from her desk. âKatieâs still out so it probably is some of her workload.â
âFuck,â you whispered, bringing the coffee with you to Huskâs office.
The door sat partially open, as it always did. Husk had the illusion of the open door policy he claimed to always have. Anyone whoâd worked for Hazbin News for more than a few weeks quickly learned that while Charlie Morningstar believed in all the latest management techniques, on the ground Husk kept things tried and true.
You knocked on the door, pushing it more open slightly in the process. âYou wanted to see me?â
Husk didnât answer. He didnât even look up from his papers as he waved you in.
Husk was an old school player in the Journalism business. He had retired and sank into the bottle but the bright promise of Charlieâs dream drew him back out and back into the business. At least, thatâs what you initially thought when you were hired on.
The bottle of scotch that lived in his desk drawer was the first lesson that all was not as it seems with Husk and Hazbin news. He didnât believe in the dream. He didnât even believe in the political platform.
Husk was as neutral as it comes.
He was only there because of his loyalty to Alastor, Charlie Morningstarâs financier. At least, thatâs what it looked like on the surface. The reality was, it seemed to be something deeper, darker that held him in place.
He may have always been drunk and cranky but there was no denial that he was damn good at what he did to keep the paper above water.
âYou wanted to see me?â
âKatieâs going to be out for a while,â Husk said, ignoring any propriety. âYouâre her cover.â
âExcuse me?â
Katie Martin was one of the lead writers for the political beat. He was essentially asking you to step into your seniorâs role.
âYouâre not deaf.â
You decided to try another approach. âWhatâs going on with Katie?â
âSomething with her husband,â Husk shrugged, tossing a flashdrive toward you on his desk. âI stopped listening. Thereâs a townhall this afternoon. Youâre covering the write up for it. Should be boring, we wonât need cameras but you can have Angel if you want.â
It wasnât that you hadnât covered town halls before. It was just that you didnât usually cover the higher stakes ones. Things like animal control and property taxes were more your speed.
Things like if the senator was going to challenge President Adamâs calls or the fact that he slapped a female member of congressâ ass while on stage were far above what you were used to covering.
But you survived covering President Adamâs rally so this couldnât be too much worse than that. Right?
Right.
It was a two hour drive to get to the town hall. What you assumed was a local event was in the next county over and your afternoon trip turned out to be evening event requiring you to book a room.
Did Husk mention that? No. Did he send you with the company card? No.
Did he give a single flying fuck that you could hardly afford to get by?
Clearly he fucking did not.
Liberal values and living wages for all? Not high on Huskâs agenda. All he cared about was keeping his boss happy. Not Charlie. She was your boss. Everyone knew Husk worked for Alastor and Charlie was his boss in name only.
Youâre already over it by the time you pull in. People were already there, setting up their cameras in in the back of the room. It was standing room only for the press with citizens eager to voice their opinions already lined up outside.
âWhat time is it?â A man leaned over and asked you as you set the bag youâd been carrying for your camera guy, Anthony âAngel Dustâ Oârilly down. âMy phoneâs out of reach and this damn tripod will fall apart if I take my eyes off it, I swear to god.â
âToo late for this shit,â you answered with a laugh while pulling your phone out of your back pocket. âTen till seven.â
âDamn, you did cut it close.â He laughed and with that, you went about speed running the set up and preparing for what was surely going to be a boring event.
I mean, itâs not like the senator was going to actually show up? VoxNews wasnât here and they always seemed to be around if something good was going to go down.
Thatâs why you took notice of their absence. It had nothing to do with wanting to catch a peek at the man who cursed your mind with just one night of very drunk, very good sex. Fucking.
It was just fucking.
âOh holy shit, he showed up.â You stood next to Angel, Notepad in hand as you watched the chaos erupt throughout the room.
It should have at least started calm. They usually do, even the most exciting ones.
Not today. Today half of the people present had one thing on their mind and they were very fucking angry about it. Just seeing the face of their elected official was enough to rile them up.
âYou think someoneâs going to start throwing punches?â The other camera man asked, leaning toward you.
âIs it wrong that I hope so?â Angel laughed.
âYes,â you answered for them both.
âIt would make the drive out here worth it at least.â
âAnthony!â You scolded, breaking out his legal name.
âListen baby,â Your long and lankly camera man rested his hand on his cocked hip. âIf Iâm going to be behind the camera instead of in front of it, it may as well be entertaining!â
You rolled your eyes and returned your attention back to the so called town-hall just in time to hear someone yell from the crowed a question regarding the alleged sexual assaults the senator had been recently accused of.
Another added a question of if President Adam knew about the incidents beforehand. Surely he did.
Another asked if the penchant for sexual assault was why the party was apparently so fine with President Adamâs brazen sexist comments and long history of sexual assault accusations himself.
Those who were at the town hall in support of the senator, the party and the newly elected President himself were quick to offer defenses. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Due process? Where was the proof?!
Why should they just believe the words of someone who may have something to gain from the accusations.
âPeople have got to get a grip.â Unintentionally, you spoke loud enough that the person sitting in the last row of seats in front of you heard you. He turned, face getting redder when he took in your Hazbin logo.
âYou annoying libtards are who need to get a grip,â he started his tirade, not seeming to give two shits that he was doing so while being recorded.
More people turned toward you, people accused you of having said something you hadnât. You were quickly a distraction from the accusations, one the senator wasted no time in weaponizing. What little upset from those on his side that had been brewing was quickly forgotten.
Men in black suits made their way through the crowds, coming toward you. Youâd seen men like them before, throwing people out of rallies and events. They were far from gentle.
All the attention was on you, not Hazbin News. Not Angel. It was on you and you were scared.
Scared enough that when a large hand settled on your shoulder you about jumped out of your skin, expecting it to be one of the black suits coming to not so softly throw you out on your ass, maybe taking the time to break a bone or two in the process.
Instead, your eyes landed on bright blue eyes looking down at you. For a second those eyes calmed you, and you forgot to be aware of your surroundings.
Then the goading sound of Katie Killjoyâs voice egging people on entered your ears.
When had VoxNews arrived? Why was he of all people here?
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