“You talk like a villain, but stare like a lover.”
Welcome to my little fanfic corner. I love villainous men who are soft for their lovers <33 (emotional support villainous men when??)
If you love evil men who plot all their evil deeds while you listen in awe, then you’ve come to the right place! (I do love when they practice their monologues while cuddling you)
What fandoms I write for;
- Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss
- Hatchetfeild (Lord in Black fans wya?)
- Zipped Up (strictly the Nova Alliance)
- LEGO Monkie Kid
- Amygdala/Satellite City
And more by request!
I will write fluff, angst, suggestive themes (closed door endings), but no nsfw! My audience is 16+
I do oneshots, headcanons, and long fics if people like the story enough :]
i have been lurking under the 'vox x reader' tag because I have fallen victim to the flat screens charm...and lemme tell you, that one post about how big his hands are??? It has not left my mind since I've read it. If you don't know what I'm talking about, this lovely person, @/mawsjaws, had written it and I am obsessed.
I'm thinking about that shit all the time cause w h a t. Why did I not notice it?? I need more?? At this point I just want to write my own smutfic on it. It's been eating up my brain like a parasite that won't leave. I NEED MORE VOX FICS CENTERED AROUND SIZE DIFFERENCE. PLEASE.
lemme hold it. please. fiddle with the claws. compare hand sizes. let him wrap it around my neck-
just one chance Vox😭🙏 that's all i ask.
in all honesty, i've never really had a favorite character from hazbin hotel(was kinda obsessed with luci but...) and now that I had rewatched it the few days after my move? i am beyond infatuated with this man. lemme at him😈
if you've been wondering why my alastor fic has been taking so long, it's because of vox corrupting me😔(plus I only have time to write for at most 3 hours because my dads dog is just a puppy and has a personal vendetta against everything we use i.e shoes, blankets, table, and even the cat tree)
EEHHE IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED MY LITTLE SELF INDULGENCE!!! I didn’t realize how many people would love his hands like me but,, glad to know theres a LOT of us
- Despite his hands being claws – sharp and metal – he knows how to handle them, especially when it comes to handling YOU. Whether it's hugs, cuddles, or just a hand on your thigh he's always gentle, treating you like glass.
- He is SO. CLINGY. His hands are always on you in one way or another. An arm around the waist, his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers interlocked with yours. If he can't be next to you for any reason, he'll cast his face on your phone split screen style, in a way reminiscent to tiktok subway surfers brainrot videos.
- As much as he puts on a macho man front and presents very much as a man who believes women should be in the kitchen, he cooks for you without hesitation. Sick? Expect a home made chicken noodle soup just how you like it. Tired? He doesn't let you lift a finger, making your favorite meal, no matter how complex it is. Having a bad day? He's already baking a little treat to brighten your day. When you're alone he's smitten.
- For date night, he absolutely puts on a shark documentary and explains everything in more detail than the documentary. If a fact is minorly inaccurate, he gets very frustrated, pauses the tv, and explains everything about that shark in detail before unpausing the documentary. Most of the time you end up asleep on his shoulder, he ends up carrying you back to your shared room where it's you, him, and his BLÅHAJ.
SUGGESTIVE:
- He LOVES leaving marks on you. Most of the time it's hickeys from his mouth around your collarbone, but the occasional time he feels more.. playful. You'll have a few marks from his wires, paticularly around your hips or thighs. He likes to say that it's a branding thing, wanting everyone to know what's his. Thats mostly true, the other half of it however is him being obsessed with the sounds you make under him.
- He's a sucker for praise. While he likes to boast about being a dominent top, that man melts like BUTTER if you call him handsome while you're getting intimate.
- He is an utter FREAK in the bedroom. You'd think he died in a 2010 BDSM club and not infront of a live studio audience with how horny and freaky he is. While he brags about missionary being the only way he engages in sex, that man is a LIARRR... He loves getting you in cowgirl or doggy style.
- He gives the BEST aftercare. Massaging your back gently, pressing into your back lazily. He often insists on getting you a warm bath, properly spoiling you. Once you're all dry he gets you in a pair of his boxers and a large tee. Spooning you in bed with a weighted blaket atop the pair of you until you pass up.
Yo, can I get a short fluffy story of Kester and reader cuddling on a cold, snowy winter’s day? Where he just wraps reader up in his big, comforting, and warm wings.
“Warmth” Kester x Gn!reader
A/N - Sorry this is so short!! But hope you like it hehehe (I feel like he’s one to tease a lot)
The wind whistled by the windows of the trailer as snow plummeted the land beyond, creating a white blanket on everything in sight.
You nuzzled into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest to find more warmth. You adored Kesters trailer—but there was only so much heat it could hold within it. The small heater in the corner hardly did much in the weather such as this—but you thanked him for turning the engine on to up the heat some more.
He ran off to do goodness-knows-what back in the circus. You wondered how he dealt with the weather and all the running back and fourth he did constantly. You guess it would build up some body heat—but then again, you weren’t so knowledged on the ways bat-bodied people work.
You tugged the blankets over your face as sudden cool air breezed into the trailer, invading the warmth you barely held onto. You were about to groan in annoyance until the familiar voice of Kester rung out.
“Sorry I took so long! Had to go fetch those waddya-call-it’s. I never remember what the name—oh!” He closed the door of the trailer, his eyes falling onto your huddled body across the trailer on the bed. He smiled, chuckling as he walked up to you.
You peeled the blankets just over your eyes, allowing your gaze to fall onto him. Snow lingered on his hat and attire, but with one shake and the snow fell away. You stifled a laugh, watching as he took his cap off and hung it up.
“I don’t know how you manage the cold, Kess.” You mumbled, once again trying to pull the blankets closer to you in search for more warmth. He turned to look back at you, his bat ears now on display.
“It’s so cold.” You said, voice muffled under the blankets—but he heard. He rested his hands on his hips, quirking a brow at you. “Oh quit lookin’ like a deflated ballon.” He walked up to the bed, smiling down at your figure that nested itself under the mass of blankets.
“You mock my suffering.” You groaned, turning away in the blankets. He chuckled, tilting his head. “Fine, fine. Allow me.”
While you couldn’t see it, you heard his wings expand out, the leathery sound distinguishable. He climbed onto the bed, taking you and the blanket in his grasp and pulling you close to his chest. While the initial contact was cold—due to him having just been back from the Winterland outside—quickly, you felt his warmth. Especially as he wrapped his large wings around you, overwhelming you with his presence. But you melted into him, your own arms finding their ways out of the blanket cocoon and around him. You exhaled a long breath, easing.
“Hm. Thank you.” You said, the warmth now basking you in a wave of exhaustion. You felt his body vibrate as he chuckled softy.
Can I pretty please rq a oneshot with Wiggly x reader, like reader just hanging out with him while Wigglys ruling over the Black and White?
Thanks pookie wookie dookie smookie
“My treasure” Wiggog Y’wrath x Gn!reader
A/n - it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything related to Hatchetfield so I am a bit rusty,, but hope this is enough to feed you pookie!!! :]
The depths of the black and white consisted of domains far beyond what any mortal mind could attempt to imagine. Lands so long they stretch for miles—skies that where a multitudes of portals and colours, buildings and cities turned upside down, fog so thick no one could ever navigate through. Eldritch horrors crept these lands, each having a respected and unique land for their own to rule. You resided in the domain of one of the most feared eldritch of all—the king, so to speak, of this otherworldly place. Sitting on his large throne was Wiggog y’wrath. A being of many forms, but took favour in his tentacled, eldritch, beastly form.
His eyes roamed the land before him—a clear view into the world of humans. One can not simply describe how such a portal works—but think if it as a large circle in the ground, and through that circle one can see a birds-eye view of a city, of a room, of a person. Wiggly can control whatever is seen through this portal—an eye that hides just behind the fiber of reality. And that eye is Wigglys to control.
Currently, he had a full view of a shopping mall during the infamous Black Friday. Greedy shoppers pushed past people, shoving and cursing—doing whatever they can to be the first to get their greedy hands on the best deals. Rude comments escalated into arguments, those arguments escalated into fights—and wiggly delighted in it all.
He’d bark out a laugh whenever petty arguments turned into physical fights. Humans were so easily offended that they felt so threatened over insignificant objects that will rot away in weeks to come. He found immense pleasure and amusement when it came to witnessing the affairs of humans—especially when said affairs contain the shameless nature of mankind. Oh how he loved being the one to cause such havoc at times, too.
Every man and eldritch you asked would say the same thing—the one thing that was sure of wiggog as an evil king—he despised mankind more than anything. More than words could ever express such hatred. But… that would be plainly incorrect. Not when a human sat on his shoulders, on his throne, as he watched the pain of humans below him.
You. You were his one and only exception. The one human that has ever made him feel weak. Not weak in the sense of power—but weak in the sense of his feelings. Your words were able to creep into his mind—tug at his heartstrings he never knew he had. How he hated it at first. No way would he, Wiggog y’wrath, the despiser of mankind, be fighting against the blush that wanted to creep onto him whenever you looked at him at a certain way—the way he felt perceived by your eyes he could get lost in. Or the way you caressed him in such a tender way.. it was so foreign and he hated it. But he never found himself able to push you away.
Oh how he wanted to kill you at first. But every second he spent with you, he was all the more fascinated. Ever since he had spotted you through the eye of his portal—he kept his eyes on you. Out of this unknown fascination, he watched you. And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He found himself thinking of you—your face, your voice. The way you navigated the world. It all intrigued him like nothing else has ever before.
That’s how he had you on his shoulder, laughing with him as the two of you watched the dismay through the portal. You were his prized possession. A gift suit enough for a king like him. He knew he wanted no harm upon you, no humans or eldritch alike could ever take you from him.
That’s why he had sent his sniggles on earth to protect you. You had wondered why you started seeing the same faces everywhere you went—but when they failed to protect you one day, he found himself materializing into the skin of a human. He found you, observed you. And when time was right, he introduced himself.
Ever since then, he was finally was able to take you into his domain. Sure, he could have taken you long before—but.. pride ate at him. Ego. He wanted you to willingly come to him. It made him feel powerful in the way of his charm. But little did he know he’d fall harder for you, and treasured you like the priceless beauty you were.
He lifted up his tentacled hand, tenderly caressing your side. You leaned into his touch, smiling that smile he always adored. His shifted his face, allowing his eye to catch the sight of you. “What a treasure you are.” He rasped out after chuckling lowly at your reaction. You looked away, his gaze too intense. With a sigh, you found courage to look back. leaning down closer to his face. Amusement etched his beastly expression. His tentacle wrapped more around you, sure to not allow you to fall. After a moments pause, you respond,
The first time Vox had placed his hands on you—be it your shoulders, arms, or whatever he could grasp for your attention—you had realized the obvious distinction that his hands were huge.
Not just normal, large hands of a man. No—they were beastly. Large claws that always threatened to cut—yet so skilled in the ways they caressed you, managing to hold you in the gentlest manner.
You have witnessed the shameless things his hands have done—the lives he took whenever someone stepped out of line. Although, his hands were always calculated. Never hesitating—precise and accurate.
You couldn’t help but often allow your eyes to wonder to his hands. Sometimes they were still, claws extended like a predator waiting to pounce on anything that tried to make a wrong move. The way he speaks with his hands—motioning them with every pronounced word. Or whenever he was in deep thought, his claws would sub-consciously tap on the desk he sat at. You’ve grown to be comforted by the noise.
Vox was fast to catch onto your small fascination with his hands. Whenever he caught you glancing at them, he’d purposefully make motions and flexes with his hands and fingers—subtle, but noticeable enough to you. You’ve forced yourself to look away, knowing you’ve been staring at them for far too long.
When the two of you become a couple, Vox couldn’t help but indulge more into your small liking towards his hands, whenever he could, he have your hands in his grasp, making sure you always saw how far larger his was to yours. When your hands where placed on a desk, his would be placed beside yours, showing the size difference between the two of you.
When it comes to more intimate aspects, you can’t help but secretly crave more action from his hands. The way they trailed your skin gently, sure as to not pierce your skin.
By pure curiosity, Vox had placed his hand around your neck. No presssure at all, just holding it there. You where not the same since
Now being open about your liking to his hands, he often allows you to fidget with his claws, admiring his hand in yours. He always has a hand placed somewhere on you—and you don’t mind it. On your shoulder, arm, waist—anyplace where you could feel the warmth of his hand on you was enough to make you melt.
co-anchor!y/n having to watch Vincent strut into the studio every morning wearing the exact same goddamn outfit your last two anchors were wearing the week they were murdered
CW- none! Maybe stalk-ish behaviour? But all in good heart!
• Being Vox’s partner means getting used to the connections he has to his tech.. and the perks of it all.
• You will just be walking through pentagram City, passing by all sorts of TV’s displaying the newest and hottest gossip of new and fallen overlords, some new and horrific inventions, terf wars and who was winning—similar, graphic news that everyone loved and devoured like starved dogs.
• An oncoming Tv changed its screen in a blur, displaying Voxs unmistakable face. He greets you with a grin as you pass by, barking out some flirtatious or sweet remark your way. You’ve learnt to scoff or laugh in return and continue walking by, no longer surprised by his random presence.
• Have your phone out? His face will occasionally appear, consuming your screen. He checks in on you, what you where up too, how you where doing. Were you doing something important? Well too bad, that can wait. Vox wants your attention!
• Sometimes in the corner of your eye you can spot one of the numerous screens littered within stores windows or broadcasting stations with his peering face on it, eyes watching you. Despite what he says otherwise, he worries for your safety and wants to keep an eye on your well being—even if he knows you’re more than capable of standing up for yourself. It gives him constant recurrence when he knows theres no trouble heading your way.
• This also means he will constantly gift you the newest versions of phones, headphones, laptops—thr list goes on. (No—it isn’t because he wants to make sure there’s always something he can check in up on you at all times)
• But despite his antics of over-protective behaviour through your devices, he does respect your privacy. Well… for the most part. He needs to make sure you never engage in any of Alastors broadcasts.
You are an overlord in Hell. Having been one for centuries, you mainly focus in physical communitications; like letters! You're quite well known for being mostly harmless, mostly. Despite your general distain for violance, there have been a few moments in your time where you've truly had to defend yourself; after that, nobody really bothered you. Around the mid 70s, you noticed a sinner whom started to gain your attetnion. His whole 'thing' being more modern technology, rivalling your entire purpose. Eventually, you happend to bump into eachother. Most people expected there to be a large altercation, for you to crush him into nothing but dust in the ground. So, best believe the sinners of hell were suprised to see the two of you get along quite well– the two of you even go out for drinks quite often, just like you were currently!
"You humor me, Vincent"
You chuckle as you sip your wine, turning your face to look at his significantly more television shaped one. He's smiling almost shyly, his eyes not looking up to meet yours as his finger (claw?) drags across the rim of his cup.
"You humor yourself by keeping me around."
He looks up at you, his face a sort of embarased flush, taking a large gulp of his own drink.
"I have.. a proposal for you."
You smile and nod; listening as he stands and clears his thoat.
"You know, modern technology started with physical communication!"
He clears his throat.
"Let me get to the point. We've been close for a while now. People know us, love us! And with newer overlords popping up up so often, I think it's in your interest that with your reputation, and strength and my influence; we would be an unstoppable pair! I think we could rule hell, together!"
He sits back down and puts his hand beside yours, which lay flat on the bar, your pinkies just barely touching.
"As... partners."
He smiles, you do in return, placing your hand atop his. You look down at your hands than back up, the embarrassed flush on his face evolved to something more, something dangerously similar to a more romantic flush.
"I would be delighed to. Better partners than enemys, right?"
He nods frantically.
"Right!"
He smiles bright, you bring your hand slightly tighter around his, your fingers interlocking. He smiles wider and repeates to himself quitely.
Saw a video on TikTok where velvette was playing piano tiles on Vox’s screen so.. why not do x reader instead <33
CW- none! Just fluff. And also crack treated “serious” or however that saying goesss!!! 🩵
- - -
Cascading neon lights illuminated the dark room, seeping in through windows that stood from floor to ceiling. The buildings in the distance loomed tall, wide and narrow—yet none quite reached the height the Vee tower did. With its impressive size and architecture, it stood out amongst the sworm of buildings and their brightly-lit strobing signs. But you didn’t mind the overwhelming lights. At least, not anymore.
The plush sheets beneath you were soft and comforting, a rare comfort in a world of constant chaos. It was simple pleasures like this that reminded you of a distant life you once had. But that was long ago—now, you had a new one. One that you would have never guessed you’d live..
A life where the infamous TV-demon was lying on top of you, perched arms on your chest as you tampered with his screen. You, despite his impenetrable ego, had somehow managed to get Vox to indulge in your small, “incredulously stupid” needs, as he liked to call it. There was a game you came to miss that you played long ago on earth, and after hearing Voxtek could pirate certain stations and channels on earth—you wondered if it was the same for earths games.
Which, after a lot of back and fourth (mainly Vox being confused on why you’d find a game such as this entertaining), here you where. Vox in-between your legs, lazily lounging on you as you played the stupid piano tiled game that echoed obnoxious music. (Or so what Vox proclaimed at first)
Your fingers gently tapped at his screen—which would normally be his face—so you made sure not to rage when you miss-clicked a tile. You now came to appreciate the hours you’d waste playing this game. Who knew it would come in handy when your partner had a Tv (iPad functioning?) for a head.
You’d occasionally ask if he was alright due to his silence when you’d start a new song or round. He’d grumble or hum a response, allowing you to continue. What he wouldn’t admit to you (or at least tanyone else) is that he found your fingers on his screen rather.. therapeutic. The gentle tapping, the feel of your body under his. The way you’d do your best not to go too hard on him when you lost. He found the scrunch on your face endearing.
He was a busy man, with endless news to sprout and more tech to make. But when it was calm moments like this—all his business and tv-host responsibilities seemed to sink to the back of his mind. He hated to admit that he was a sucker for these moments.. don’t get him wrong; he loved the thrill and power he held when it came to his duties and responsibilities, lived and thrived on it in fact. But, with you—something human came alive in him.
You would go on to play a few more rounds (cursing under your breath whenever you messed up) and Vox silently allowing you as both himself and you basked in the comfort and stillness of the moment.
Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, allowing yourself to finally embrace sleep. Your finger trailed across the outer edges of his screen, mumbling, “I’m done now. Thank you..” but there was no response. Soon, the game frizzled away, displaying Vox’s sleeping expression with a quiet buzz.
