#hazbin x reader

[voxslays]

[mrskarma]

im gonna be honest with y'all

i want to fuck him as tv more than the human version

"ohh he's so hot as a human omg omggggg"

BORINGGGGGGGGG

let me sit my ass on that tv screen and ride until he short circuits

i want that evil ipad

[the-undeadwriter]

Au where Alastor's soul is owned by reader who is his wife and he gave it to her willingly

And the hotel find out Alastor is on a leash but he likes it and then they find out he gave it willingly to his wife. Que them being shocked that he's even married

Oooooh anon I am shaking you rapidly /pos

Warnings: possibly ooc— haven’t written Alastor in a very long time, reader is gender neutral but the word wife is used once so if you want to click off, no worries! Reader is incredibly morally grey— they were aware of the murders but didn’t say anything, are an overlord, etc… also cannibalism. It’s vague if the reader knowingly or willingly ate human flesh, but there’s a few lines in there so be warned. No appearance is described, nor is the readers domain/powers as an overlord explained :P

Wordcount: 825

Ask box is currently open, don’t be shy to say hi if you’ve got an idea to share :P

Part two is out btw :)

The Hazbin Hotel— run and managed by hells most charming princess, Charlie Morningstar— had interested you for quite some time now.

You had first heard about it through an awful interview on 666 news— only in passing, and you hadn’t paid it much mind.

But now.

They had fought off heaven and won.

But that wasn’t what drew you here, in the end. It was heart, your… sentimentality, as it were. Beyond these doors, was the man you had sworn your heart to. And he, his soul to you.

You pushed the doors open, sliding into the warm entryway with barely a whisper of noise. No one noticed you, not yet, so you took a moment to observe.

Various sinners roamed the ground floor— you could see the princess herself, her paramour… you recognised the cat sinner behind the bar, as well as the delightful little menace tearing through the space after a roach.

There was an unfamiliar spider demon— unfamiliar in the sense that you had never met him, you had certainly seen his face, amongst other things, plastered on every billboard around pentagram city.

Before your gaze could find the man you came here for, the young princess had finally taken not of you, gasping dramatically and dashing forward, hands clutching your own. “Omigosh— hi! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!! Are you here for redemption?!”

You chuckle fondly, carefully pulling your hands from hers. “Hello, dear, I’m afraid my reasons for coming here are not so… holy, as it were.” You smile, tilting your head with a quiet buzz of power. “I’m looking for my husband.”

The princess— Charlie, seems confused. There are very few guests in the hotel and if they had a wife they never mentioned it— you can guess the thought going through her head easily.

Finally, it seems that Husk has noticed you— alerted by the sudden silence emanating from the entry way. His ears drop as he sees you, tail wiping behind him. “Oh, shit-“ he curses, setting his glass down suddenly. “Y/N, you—“

“Hello, Husker!” You greet cheerfully, stepping out of the shadowed entry towards the bar. He remains tense, eyes watching you as you approach. “Tell me, is my beloved in at the moment?”

He watches you for a moment before nodding with a sigh. “Nifty, go get him,” he waves a hand, reaching for a glass to make you a drink. He knows what you like, after all. You hear Nifty giggle before wind whips past your legs and she’s gone.

The spider demon, Angel something-or-other, leans against the bar beside you, very obviously looking you up and down with a grin. “So, who’s the lucky son of a bitch who chained you down?”

You grin, taking the offered drink from husk with a hum. “It was the other way around, actually,” you murmur through a sip of your drink of choice, smiling at the snort of laughter from the spider.

The princess’s partner— Maggie?— storms over, looking significantly less pleased. “Why are you here, overlord?” She hisses, hand slamming against the bar top suddenly. You hear the spider choke on his drink, sputtering behind you.

You grin, taking another long sip of your drink. “I told that delightful partner of yours, I’m here to see my husband.”

Her brows furrows, gaze hardening. “There’s no one here—“

“Oh, Darling!”

You turn with a grin, sliding off your seat to walk towards your darling husband— “Alastor, dear, you didn’t visit!” You laugh, letting him sweep you up into a hug. He hums against your hair, the comforting buzz of static enveloping the two of you.

“I’ve been so busy with my duties here, I haven’t had the time!” He soothes, stepping back to face the other sinners— keeping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve been making conversation with my acquaintances— I hope they haven’t been to terribly rude?”

You laugh, hitting his arm gently. “No, not at all! Delightful conversationalists, the lot of them,” you tease, stepping away to grab your drink once more.

There’s a moment of silence, as you sip your drink and Alastor settles in beside you, before the entire room screeches in near synchronised shock, “WHAT?”

Angel leans towards you, jaw dropped, to ramble frantically. “That’s your husband? Holy shit, toots, what kinda psycho are ya?!”

You grin, shrugging. “Oh, what’s life without a few murders? Makes things more interesting, I say!”

Alastor chuckles, leaning against you as he murmurs, playful. “Mm, you never complained about any of my secret ingredients, either. A match made in hell, we were!”

The two of you laugh, leaning against eachother like you’re both seated at a speakeasy and not a bar in hell, surrounded by shocked sinners and royalty.

You take another sip of your drink, chest warm. The questions will come, you’re sure, but they can wait a moment. It has been so very long since you could enjoy your husband’s company.

Okay this got super long so there’s not a lot here about the owning his soul but but uh

Hope this was good :P

Edit: it’s been seven hours how did this get so popular what

Edit 2: it’s been a day I think and we’re at a thousand notes, this is definitely getting a part two

[kikiisuppose]

So uhh… how we feeling Vox nation..?

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐩 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 "𝐕𝐨𝐱" 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧

Age Gap Romance, version 2

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ You're too young for him. That's the first thing folks would say if they knew. Fresh into the studio world and still carrying hope. Vincent Whitman loves that. With a single sweep of his eyes, he's already decided what role you'll play in his orbit. He covets you.

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ You trail after him and gush to your friends about what a joy he is to work with. He's a legend, after all. A modern icon, if you will. “New kid,” he says one night when you bring him his coffee just how he likes it. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He knows you fluster easy and gets off on it. The age gap only adds to the thrill. It's a power play, and he's all in. He cracks up over your naivety. “Young people,” he murmurs, leaning close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Always looking for somebody to worship. Lucky you found the right man.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ He calls you to his dressing room more often than necessary. Sometimes you get work done, but most times you don't. He likes to stand in front of the mirror while you stand behind him, fixing his tie. His hands clasp behind his back. “You’re shaking,” he says softly when he catches your reflection. “You don’t have to. I’ll only bite if you ask.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ The first time he kisses you, it’s in the empty studio room. The lights are muted after the show, but you're feeling electric. “Careful,” he mutters against your lips. “People will talk if they see you come out looking like that.” When you quirk a brow, he chuckles and wipes a smudge from your cheek. “I’m a star, sweetheart. They expect me to be a scandal. You don't have that luxury.”

⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Publicly, he keeps a polished appearance. Privately, he lets himself unravel. He guides your hands and murmurs praise. “You keep up better than I expected,” he tells you. “Don't let that change. It's why I keep you around.”

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

@bakerstreethound you did this.

[stantengenandhisflashywives]

Once I learn how to write fanfics everyone will be SICK of me.

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ " let me be your fool "

Waking up next to them

Characters : lucifer, vox, alastor

Warnings : slightly suggestive. MINORS DNI. 18+.

A/n : Alastor's part is not sexual for obvious reasons, that man is an ace in the hole. I've been listening to a capitalism playlist when writing these idk why the songs are always so catchy despite the depressing messages behind them lol

▢ lucifer ⚝

you wake up to the sensation of someone drumming their claws against your bare ribs like they were testing a new instrument. A very smug, self-satisfied someone.

"Goooood morning, love," Lucifer purrs directly into your ear, far too awake for someone who didn't get a single wink of sleep," You ready for some breakfast? I was thinking a pancake stack with some-"

You interrupt him with a groan, pulling the blanket over your head. It's quickly yanked away by your pouting partner, however.

"Okay that was very rude, first of all." He murmured before giving you a shit-eating grin," second of all, you don't get to hide after last night." his grin was all sharp teeth, sharp enough to cut class probably. No wonder your shoulder was hurting from the amount of times he bit into your skin the night before.

"Lu, it's too early." You grumbled, blinking up at him grouchily.

"Honey, I'm owed my morning gloating, alright?"

He doesn't wait for permission - he draped himself half across your torso like a cat with boundary issues. His hands slide up your sides and he presses a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. The one to your shoulder, this one more of an apologetic kiss as he got a good glimpse of the interesting artwork he left on your skin.

"You know-" He began with a soft grin curled to his lips, eyes full of warmth as he just admired you below him," For someone who kept insisting they were 'not that flexible', you certainly proved yourself wrong-"

you slap a hand over his mouth, glaring up at him with burning cheeks," Don't fuckin' finish that sentence."

He laughs against your palm, wicked and delighted, before pulling your hand away gently so he could kiss your knuckles," Fine. I'll save it for breakfast conversation."

You deadpan," Lu."

"Fiiiine." He groaned dramatically as he stretches, sprawling over your more, smiling with content," It can be an in-bed conversation, then."

Your fingers ran through his softly tousled hair," I'd prefer, y'know, not to talk about it."

"Stop treating me like a one night stand. We're literally engaged."

You pinch a strand of his hair," Blah, blah, blah."

▢ vox ᯤ

You wake to the gentle hum of cooling fans and the faint static-purr of your partner’s chest. Vox has already powered on... well, barely.

His screen glows a sleepy blue beside you, brightness dialed down to a soft dim so he doesn’t “flashbang your ass into next week,” as he once put it.

An arm made of warm, humming circuitry tightens around your waist the moment you try to shift.

“Don’t even think about it,” he mutters, voice still glitching with sleep. “You move, and m' gonna electrocute you.”

You snort, trying to pry his hand off. “Vox, we have work. You especially.”

He buries his face in your neck... well, as much as a man with a screen for a head can. The speakers by his jaw emit a soft, low static that vibrates warmly against your skin. It's almost… affectionate.

“Work can eat shit,” he grumbles. “I’m busy.”

His screen fuzzes briefly, a little morning distortion, before settling again. You can feel the whir of his internal fans shift, the white noise deepening into a rhythmic lull that threatens to drag you right back to sleep.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” you mumble, eyes slipping half-closed.

“Maybe,” he says, smugness creeping into his tone. “Maybe I just naturally produce comforting and seductive audio frequencies. I’m a multi-talented man.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I'm fuckin' hot.”

You scrunch your nose at his egotistical answer, but didn't deny his claim.

He trails a hand lazily up your spine, fingertips buzzing with soft static that makes you shiver. “C’mon,” he coaxes, voice dropping to a warm hum. “What’s the point of being the most powerful overlord in the digital era if I can’t take a damn morning off?”

His claws buzz a little too much, making you flinch from the static shock he nipped to your side.

“Hey. behave.” you grumble, trying to bite back the grin threatening to break across your face.

“I am behaving,” he argues. “This is extremely well-behaved for me. I haven’t even tried to film us yet.”

You swat his arm. “Vox.”

“Kidding. Mostly.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth, each one a little more self-satisfied than the last. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just stay. Five more minutes.”

You blink tiredly before sighing and leaning your whole body back into his warmth.

He grinned crookedly before dragging you further into him, his chest pressing against your bare back," there we gooo..."

▢ alastor ⍋

You surface from sleep to the faint clink of porcelain and the warm scent of steeped tea. His favorite blend, and yours. Alastor hums lightly under his breath, that old-timey radio-tune warmth filling the room as he sets two cups on the bedside table with care bordering on ceremony.

“Ah, awake already, my dear?” he says, turning with one of his rare, soft smiles. It sits differently on him than the usual sharp grin; warmer, less rehearsed. He reaches out and lightly boops your nose with a claw-tipped finger. “Good morning!”

You mumble something that vaguely resembles “five more minutes,” and tug the blankets over your head.

He chuckles - quiet, sincere. “Come now. I did brew your favorite. At a frankly ungodly hour, I might add.”

“…Then get back in bed,” you manage, voice muffled. “Tea can wait.”

“Oh-ho! Can it?” he teases, hands folding neatly behind his back. “And here I thought you’d leap at the chance for a cup prepared by yours truly. How tragic.”

You peek out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Alastor.”

“Yes?” he says, far too pleased.

“Get in the bed.”

He tilts his head, giving that faux-pondering smirk he knows drives you insane.

You frown at him, eyes tired, you already knew what he wanted from you,"... Please?"

The word “please” does something to him. it softens him noticeably, like you’ve reached in and dimmed the dial on his performative energy.

He sighs, dramatically but fondly. He's always had a soft spot for good manners.

“Oh, very well. Twist my arm, why don’t you?” He climbs onto the bed with exaggerated delicacy, settling first on your side as you roll over. “Scoot, my dear. Scoot, scoot-"

“You’re the one invading my side,” you grumble, but you shift anyway.

“Semantics,” he says cheerfully as his long arms loop around you.

The moment you’re within reach, he pulls you back toward him, settling your head just beneath his chin. His cheek rests against the top of your head, warm and pleasantly squishy against your hair.

You mumble sleepily against him," you're warm... so stop gettin' out of the bed so early... I prefer you over tea..."

There's a long pause before you feel his claws brushing through your hair, his mouth pressing to the top of your head," duly noted, cher."

[hon3yyluvz]

Imagine Waking up to Alastor rubbing his scent all over you so you’ll smell like him.

The deep red of the early morning sun seeps through the closed curtains in his room, shielding you both from the outside world.

You rest in your shared bed, with your hair a mess and your jaw slack, lying on your stomach. Alastor rests on top of you, not sleeping; but nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck.

His ears are pinned back, and his little deer-like tail wags back and forth behind him in pleasure. His arms are wrapped around you in uncharacteristic affection.

Little fawn like noises emit from him with every brush of his cheek against your collarbone. Just something about the thought of you smelling like him brought a satisfaction to his chest he never once thought possible.

Then it all went awry.

When you first stir, Alastor jumps, and quickly scrambles to roll away, nearly falling off the bed in his attempt. He has to grip the bed stand and lie stiff as a board on the mattress, shortly after having to push himself back on it in the first place.

His face is flushed and ears are pinned, his grin is strained and obviously humiliated as you ask him if he woke you up.

Good thing he was turned away from you, lying on his side with the blanket so tight around him it may just kill him a second time.

— “Al?’.. Did you need something?”

— “No. Go back to sleep.”

You raise a brow.

— “But you-”

— “Rest woman!-”

As confused as you are, you roll back over to try and sleep. As pleased as Alastor would’ve been to continue, he couldn’t risk getting caught.

His pride would never recover.