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âšïžRequest Rules: The more detailed, the better. Requests accepted for Tom Hiddleston, Marvel (Loki, Clint, Steve) or Hazbin Hotel (Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Adam). Requests are typically written oldest to newest unless one snags my inspiration sooner. Turn around time is... long. I reserve the right to reject a request.âšïž
đŠGood Girl (Mystery x Manager Reader smut)
đŠ On stage (Jinu x Manager Reader smut)
đŠ Lollipop (Jinu x Reader smut)
đŠ 7/15/25 - updated this page for the first time in months
đŠ7/2/25 - Launched Summer Smash event
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: Thee months. It feels like it's been hardly any time
CW: Pork measuring contests..
Prev__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 6
Alastorâs fingers drummed against the dark wooden top of his desk, each thump seemingly coming slightly faster than the last in an ever increasing rhythm. Sitting leaned back in the comfortable chair with his eyes closed, Alastor watched and listened as if he was there.
In many ways, he was.
Alastor was not bound totally to the confines of his body.
He watched as you moved through the party he had no desire to attend from the shadows, eyes that glowed just the slightest green, form made of darkness just a hair too deep. He listened through the speakers to the words spoke, jokes shared between you and another man.
Alastor wasnât a possessive man⊠at least not in the ways that made you feel trapped. You were his to love and to own, though he wasnât so sure there wasnât much difference between those two things. He would ensure that you never had doubt of your love for him, or of his for you.
If he somehow failed at that, he would let you leave should you wish to do so.
You wouldnât though. Alastor had learned from what your ill fated late husband had done and knew the quickest way to lose you was to make you feel trapped. You could leave and travel within his territory without him questioning you. He hardly took notice when you crossed out of his and into Rosieâs.
Alastor couldnât help the way having you outside of his sphere of influence made his skin crawl. He wouldnât tell you that you couldnât go but he would make sure you were safe while you did and ensure you felt the need to leave his area as rarely as possible.
Hopefully after this little outing and a few more with Rosie, you would feel settled again.
There was a sense of pride that grew in Alastorâs chest as he watched the way you fluttered between groups of people, networking, making connections that Alastor wouldnât have been able to make himself but that heâd be able to exploit through you.
Though you were your own being, you could and would, in time, function as an extension of him intentionally. For now, it was perfectly fine that you needed to be supervised when out. It was perfectly fine that you couldnât defend yourself, that you relied on him.
It was better for Alastor if you did. As long as you needed him, you couldnât think of leaving him.
Not that you would.
Would you?
Alastor watched as a rather round pig sinner approached you, eyes in the shadows narrowing as your conversation with the man stretched on. You laughed with him, clearly finding him easy to talk to.
You kept talking to him, not fluttering to the next person. Minutes stretched on while Alastor watched. The ears atop his head twitched with annoyance, flicking back as he watched you laugh at something the pig man said.
And then air around you shifted. Alastorâs ear twitched before shooting forward as he opened his eyes. The chair scratched lightly against the wooded floor as he pushed back from his desk and stood.
His teeth clenched together as he slipped his long coat over his arms. The shadows at his feet writhed and rose up before he stepped through the shadows, stepping out into the dark shadows around Voxâs latest upgraded broadcasting center.
The glass and metal glittered with the latest cutting edge style, promising the top of the line quality in picture and audio. Typical Vox, always striving to be better without any real understanding of what better actually was.
Alastor took a moment to straighten his jacket. His ear twitched again before standing up straight. He took one last moment to get himself collected before stepping through the glass doors and into the lobby. After a sweeping glance over the gathering, more for show than anything, Alastor wasted no time making his way to where he expected to find you standing with Rosie.
Except, you were missing.
That had his smile fighting to turn down. Static flickered around him, expressing the irritation that was missing from his face. You should have been there, lighting up the room and yet you were not.
Where were you?
âAlastor, dear!â Rosieâs face lit up when she saw heâd graced the gathering with his presence even after stating he wouldnât be doing so. The fact that he wasnât invited by Vox didnât cross either of their minds. Neither respected the up and coming overlord enough to care. âWhat a pleasant surprise!â
âI figured what harm was it in gracing the picture boxâs event with my presence. I canât let my darling have all the fun, now can I?â Alastor laughed easily, though he could feel the shadows crawling over him, eager to go out and find you. âAnd where is my darling girl?â
âStepped away for the powder room,â Rosie answered, resting a hand on Alastorâs arm. âSheâll be back before long, Iâm sure.â
Static crackled in Alastorâs ears as his smile strained. âAnd you didnât escort her?â
âOh, Alastor. Sheâs perfectly safe, you know that. I wouldnât bring here anywhere where sheâd be in danger.â
Alastor hummed, eyes scanning the crowd for a sign of you. If he couldnât put eyes on you, he wanted to get eyes on the pig of a man that had you growing uneasy after capturing your attention for far too long.
Ah, there he is.
Alastor met the manâs eyes in challenge. He didnât care if the man knew why Alastorâs eyes burned holes into his pork roast, all that mattered was that he feel the threat.
Rather than retiring with an oink and a squeal, the man swirled the amber liquid in his glass, keeping eye contact with Alastor, who wrinkled his nose at the tacky move of drinking liqueur at a party such as this.
Instead of backing down, the swine pushed off the wall he was propping up and sauntered over to Alastor. A slimy smile spread across his face as he approached.
âNameâs Lonnie,â the pig said, buttons of his vest straining as he puffed out his chest.
Alastorâs hands were free, allowing him to pick from which he would offer the other man. After a second of consideration, Alastor offered his left hand to shake, smile growing wider.
âThe nameâs Alastor, dear fellow. The one and only!â The pig man, Lonnie, had no choice but to quickly switch the hand he held his drink in, dropping his smoke in the process before thrusting his left hand out. âA pleasure to meet you,â Alastor said, taking charge of Lonnieâs clumsy shake, âQuite a pleasure.â
âYes,â Lonnie said, drink sloshing slightly as Alastor pumped his fist up and down with more force than was really called for. âIt is.â
Alastor took his hand back, wrinkling his nose at the underlying smell of rot that clung to the other man. He wiped the sweat from the palm of his hand on his jacket, not bothering to hide the disgust on his face. Once free of moisture, Alastor thumped the base of his microphone tipped cane in front of him, resting both hands atop it.
He looked at Lonnie expectantly, waiting for the other man to speak again.
Lonnie stood, squirming as Alastorâs easy, unbothered gaze before he lost the silent game of chicken.
âI just was speaking with your partner,â Lonnie offered.
âIs that so?â Alastor hummed. âShe is a delight, isnât she?â
âIndeed,â Lonnie took a long drink from his glass. âSheâs very adaptable. A good partner for a steady, stable man.â
Alastor hummed, not offering the man any more acknowledgment beyond the slight rise in static.
âShe left an impression on me,â Lonnie laughed lightly, seemingly unsure how to direct the conversation further.
âAh, yes. My partner has always had a talent for leaving impressions.â Alastor turned as you swept through the crowed, rushing to Alastorâs side with a bright smile on your face.
He welcomed you to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you toward him.
âWhat brought you here?â You were more than happy to see Alastor, taking refuge in him as a way to banish the uncomfortable feeling that lingered after the conversation with Lonnie.
âI finished the scripts a bit early,â Alastor said, his answer having been so close to what youâd expect to hear in life. Perhaps life and death were not that different, after all. âI thought you could use something handsome on your arm.â
A soft, musical laugh flowed from your lips as you looked up at him. Warmth washed over you, from the flush in your cheeks to the love in your heart.
Alastor was thankful that even after years in hell, your laugh was unchanged from the sound he knew in life. âWhat?â Alastorâs chuckle was honest, intended just for her though he remained aware of Lonnieâs eyes, watching them.
âI love you,â you said, standing on the tops of your toes to kiss Alastor on the cheek. It was a simple act, a small display that was still a bold display of affection.
Static crackled around Alastor. It buzzed in the air and over the speakers, distorting the music Vox pumped into the lobby.
âAnd I, you, cher.â
Across the room, Rosie watched, pretending to listen to the way Voxâs writers told her of the classic love stories they hoped to write, the way they wanted to branch out into classical writing and no longer be constrained by the limits of television.
She was too busy watching the way Alastor and Lonnie were interacting, the way they shifted when you returned. Alastorâs attendance of the party was a wrinkle in her plan. He wasnât supposed to be in attendance.
But he was.
And as you smiled up at him, adoration clear on your face, she felt the power flare through the chain.
It was rather interesting.
It should be that none but Rosie could impact the chain between her and Alastor. There was no reason at all the chain should be fluctuating in power and yet it was.
âExcuse me,â Rosie said, excusing herself from the conversation she wasnât really participating in in the first place. âAlastor?â she called out. âOh, Alastor, deer!â
His ear flicked, a sure sign that Alastor heard her calls but he didnât turn to face her. Rosieâs smile turned slightly sour at that.
âAlastor!â Rosie called again, draping am arm around Alastorâs shoulders. The sharp points of her nails dug slightly into the points of his jacket in warning. âYouâve simply got to meet these up and coming new writers. Perhaps you can expand your broadcasts, add some new voices when you yourself are not on the air?â
âIâm not sure Iâm interested in expanding the line up as of yet, Rosie Dear.â
âOh!â She laughed, hiding her smile behind a delicate hand. âBe a good deer and remember to whom you belong.â The words were whispered and sugary sweet but a clear warning lay just under.
Alastor hummed in acknowledgment. âIf you insist,â Alastor smiled wider, eyes not leaving Lonnie.
âGo on,â Lonnie said. âIf you need someone to entertain your sweet while youâre busy, Iâll be more than willing. Itâs the least I could do.â
Alastorâs eyes slit slightly before he turned away, following Rosie reluctantly.
There was something about Lonnie that made Alastor want to crush him. He felt familiar, though Alastor was sure he hadnât met the pig man before. Could it be that they knew each other in life?
He did kill a few Lonnies over the years. Hell, the body he was dragging that cursed last morning belonged to a Lonnie.
It didnât matter really who the pig was, in the end, Alastor would have his screams just for the way he talked to you. That was what really mattered. The rest was just excuses.
Alastor didnât need excuses anymore.
All he really needed was want.
And he wanted to make Lonnie suffer.
And for Rosieâs part? For the leash she clipped around his neck? He would find a way to make her suffer too.
Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!
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My collaboration to The Vees Behind The Scenes Zine @veeszine
It is titled All-nighter. I imagine our favorite villains do have to go through some work-related all-nighters here and there to resolve company stuff.
I headcanon they always meet at Valâs part of the penthouse (cuz it is the comfiest) and they always order take out. Falling asleep on Val is a common occurrence too.
It was an honor to participate in this Zine working alongside so many talented artists who truly love this villainous trio đ±đșđŠ
LOL Nobody likes your stupid Vox series. The header doesn't even look like Vincent for fuck sake! Go back to writing Alastor full time. At least you're good at that!
Wait, I don't give a shit. VoxNews is written with a target audience of like three and to vent my own frustrations.
Also, the banner character design is addressed in chapter one and the banner release post. Learn to fucking read.
LOL Nobody likes your stupid Vox series. The header doesn't even look like Vincent for fuck sake! Go back to writing Alastor full time. At least you're good at that!
Wait, I don't give a shit. VoxNews is written with a target audience of like three and to vent my own frustrations.
Also, the banner character design is addressed in chapter one and the banner release post. Learn to fucking read.
CW: Walk of shame
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 3
Morning came aggressively, pounding at temples. Sleep was the one think you felt like you couldnât get enough of. It felt like sand was caked under your eyes and down your throat.
What the actual fuck had you gotten up to last night?
And more importantly, where the fuck were your clothes?
Your naked body was tangled in a soft sheet. You were far from picky about the sheets you purchased, you couldnât afford to be picky, so even without opening your eyes you knew two things were true: this was not your bed and the sheet had a higher thread count than you could ever afford.
âFuck,â you groaned as you forced open your eyes. There wasnât enough moisture in your throat to allow the word to come out in much more than a croak.
The room you found with your dry, exhausted eyes was too bright, too clean. It was modern to the point of excess. There was a flat screen TV across from the bed designed and styled to look as a painting when not in use.
Those fuckers were far from cheep.
There was no one else in the bed with you, though the clock showed that it wasnât yet seven. Warmth didnât even linger from the ghost of a body you had in theory shared the bed with.
âFuck,â you groaned, rolling over in the too comfortable bed before you forced yourself up on your hands and knees.
It took a few blinks to properly focus your eyes. As soon as the clean lines and modern touches of the room properly came into focus, you did what you always did when youâd wake up in some strange room. You looked around to see whoâs it was.
The man however was nowhere to be found, at least not in the large bedroom. There wasnât a note on either of the perfectly clean end tables like you expected. Usually, after a drunk hook up if the host of the night woke before you, theyâd leave you a note.
Sometimes itâd have their numbers. More often than not, it was a polite âthanks for the fuckâ while really asking for you to be gone before they got back to their place so they didnât have to face the awkward âwhat did this meanâ conversation that never really had to happen.
No note meant he was probably still somewhere in the condo, except it was silent. You could hear the traffic on the street below but only just so. The bed didnât offer so much as a creak as you slipped your feet onto the ground.
Your clothes sat, neatly folded and washed on the top of a black dresser topped with clear glass. There wasnât a note waiting for you on them either.
It didnât take you long at all to slip into yesterdayâs clothes.
Would it still count as a walk of shame if yesterdayâs clothes were clean but you were still wearing yesterdayâs makeup?
Probably.
You didnât want to believe you were so stupid as to not just get drunk with Vox but to go so far as go back to his place. It was worse though. The pleasant ache between your legs told you that you had sex.
At first you didnât remember it. You wanted to not remember it but as you stepped out of the bedroom, the memories returned to you.
Everything you wanted to say was true, wasnât. You couldnât run out of the condo and spread rumors of how poor of a lover Vox was. It simply wasnât true.
Last night was quite possibly the best drunk fuck youâd ever had, and that pissed you off even more.
âI hate him,â you grumbled, grabbing your discarded smart low heel from by the kitchen.
âThatâs not what it seemed like last night,â Voxâs smooth voice carried easily, startling you.
âI thought you left.â The words sounded more like an accusation than you wanted.
âBeen up for hours,â he shrugged, âbut Iâm not needed in the office for a few hours yet.â
âThen why are you up?â You resisted to ask him how after drinking so much the night before he could be up so early.
âI didnât get where I am by resting on my laurels,â Vox said, taking a drink of a steaming mug of black coffee.
âI should go,â you mumbled, feeling awkward with his disregard. How could he be sitting, drinking coffee in the morning silence?
âYes,â Vox said, looking at whatever report he was reading on his laptop, âyou should.â
Youâd expected him to call for a car for you but no offer was made. Maybe he would extend the offer at the last second.
He didnât. He didnât say another word to you while you walked ut of his door. He didnât even get up from his damn seat.
âGet over yourself.â You wanted to kick yourself for giving a shit.
What happened didnât mean a goddamn thing. You were used for sex and that was fine. You were using him for sex too. It wasnât a smart choice but it was as much yours as it was his.
âIt didnât mean anything. It was just fucking.â
âFuck,â You mumbled, yanking the tag off the shirt. âFuck, fuck, fuck.â
Youâd stopped and spent money you didnât have on a new outfit on your way to the office. The last thing you were going to do was show up to work late, in yesterdayâs makeup and wearing yesterdayâs clothes.
Everyone would know you didnât make it home the night before if you did.
You drop your purse on your desk, wake your computer and make haste to the bathroom, doing your best not to be seen by anyone.
âShit!â The word comes out in a hiss as youâre faced with the extent of your face. In hindsight, you should have taken the time to look at your face when you changed at the department store.
But you didnât, too focused on getting to the office.
âHot date last night?â Cherri said, though the words came out twisted by her accent. They where harsh and grating and yet you loved hearing her talk.
âNo.â The denial came out too quick to be honest.
âBullshit.â Cherri laughed, stepping up to you. âI know what slept in make up looks like.â
âI just overslept.â
âUh-huh.â Cherri pulled at the hem of your shirt, sticking her pinky in a small rip. âAnd couldnât wear your own clothes because of it.â
Iâve had this.â
âWhatever you say, babe.â She slipped her finger out of the hole created by your careless rip of the tags and grabbed a paper towel and wet it down.
Any attempts to defend yourself just made you look more guilty and really, if anyone knew what post one night stand makeup looked like, it would be Cherri. Instead, you let her scrub at your face, pulling your chin this way and that while cleaning up the smudges.
âSo, who was the lucky one?â Cherri asked as she worked.
âWhat?â
âWho fucked you good? And donât try to tell me it wasnât good, youâre walking like a newborn fawn.â
âI am not!â You smacked her arm as she stepped away. âJust some guy I met in the press pool.â
âFriend or enemy?â Cherri asked and you cringed instead of answering.
Vox was the enemy. Hell, he was the king of enemies. Head of the enemy army.
But it was hard to forget the moments where he almost seemed normal. The times where he made sense or agreed with you. Or at least, didnât take the extreme stance he parroted on the air.
âFenemy?â
âThat so?â Cherry ran her fingers through your hair, straightening it. âAnd thatâs as good as itâs gonna get.â
The last thing you wanted was to dwell on Vox after you made it back to your desk but he kept finding his way back to the forefront of our mind. The strong grip of his hands and the soft caress of his lips haunted you.
By lunch, you had the article on the rally written up, approved and published to the website and you were no closer to being free from Vox.
âThis is getting ridiculous.â Your chair rolled behind you easily as you pushed back from your desk.
It had been ears since youâd been this hung up on a man and you hadnât even gone on a date with Vox. There was no damn reason for him to be under your skin.
But you know what they say: The best way t get over someone is to get under someone else. And while you shouldnât need to be âgetting overâ Vox, it was about time you put that saying into practice. While. you should be researching, brainstorming your next article or working on your other projects, instead you pulled out you phone and clicked on Vinder.
Of course, Vinder. The leading hook up and dating app, was operated by an offshoot of VoxTek, the parent company of VoxNews and Voxâs pride and joy. What better app to find someone to get under to get over the man himself?
Who the hell were you kidding. You and everyone used Vinder, though you all said if the ârightâ people made a competitive app you would all switch instead of supporting Voxâs creation.
You began flipping through profiles, swiping each one away with a glance.
Dud. Lame. Why was this guy holding a fish? Next.
And then you saw him. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tall.
Your finger hesitated before scrolling down instead of flicking him away. He was a business man, like Vox. He was looking for a traditional woman. Someone who enjoyed cooking and wanted to have a family.
He wasnât the right kind of man for you but you lingered.
The more you read, the more sure you were that he was at least two of the âistsâ. He was clearly sexist, though he wasntât out right saying it. He thought women had a role and that wasnât the kind of partner you needed or wanted.
Except you were not looking for a partner. You were looking for a fuck. Someone to get your mind off the fuck you had last night.
âFuck that.â You flicked him away and kept swiping.
You were determined until you found someone. The right someone. His profile said all the right things. His hair was long, colorful and he talked about how he did skincare and how rights mattered. All rights.
He wasnât attractive, not in the way you wanted right now but he would do.
âHey,â you sent after swiping, thus beginning the charade of âgetting to know youâ that any wise woman participated in before allowing herself the risk of being alone with a strange man.
After a few days of shooting messages back and forth, you set a date. Friday evening. Dinner. Drinks. Sex was implied, though he was far too progressive to do anything but assure you it wasnât required.
Except you found him on Vinder. And you both knew exactly what you both were on Vinder for.
It was all a part of the dance. Itâs important to be politically correct.
Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!
Want an exclusive sneak peek at my works? Join the Kofi membership for as little as $2 a month today! You'll see at least the first page of the next release and a peek at upcoming fics!
