Goober Central

I promise whatever little kick this is, its almost out of my system. Hopefully... please.

He turns rejection into spectacle

He’s powerful and still emotionally losing (that’s the good poison)

His control is a cover for wounded pride

Alastor is the perfect trigger (composed, unreadable, untouchable)

Unreciprocated love becomes monstrous (Vox doesn’t process rejection quietly. He escalates. His desire turns into obsession, possession, cruelty, rivalry, and revenge)

He externalizes ugly (and all other) feelings. (He's sooo expressionable with his stupid lil TV-Head ❤)

He becomes bigger than the wound. (He built the V's, right?)

He’s dangerous and pathetic at the same time. (DELICIOUS)

Vox isn’t over Alastor. He built an empire on not being over Alastor.

𝐂𝐖: Nothing worth worrying about, just soft, fluffy headcanons that involve the way Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, and Abel touch you, embrace you, kiss you — you know, all that fun, domestic kind of stuff

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫:

• He grabs your cheeks with his thumb and his forefinger to give your face a light, playful shake.

• He embraces you with one hand cradling the top of your head, the other on the small of your back, cheek pressed to your temple.

• He bumps his nose against yours, moving it back and forth, eliciting a giggle out of you.

• He allows you to gently play with his ears, or his tail, if you beg nicely, feigning indifference to your touches, radio filter softly crackling.

• He links his arm with yours, encouraging your hand to hold onto his bicep during a stroll.

• He rarely sleeps, but when he finds that it’s a necessity, he sits next to you and relaxes into your side, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

• He glides his lips against yours, slow, tender, and a bit ghost-like, tongue tentatively grazing yours.

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Genre: Fluff, love, romance.

Summary: short stories, fluffy, romantic and sweet.Can be read as Woman reader, GN reader, Male reader.

Hazbin hotel characters x reader

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★ VOX

Vox doesn’t get flustered. He makes people flustered.

Or so he thinks.

The moment your lips brush his, the screens on his body glitch so violently the lights in the room flicker. His smirk shatters—literally. His entire body goes pixel-bright like a TV losing signal.

He freezes.

Then slowly, he leans back in, fingers gripping your waist a little too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Do that again,” he murmurs, voice modulating with static.
“Please.”

He kisses you a second time—far deeper, far hungrier, far more possessive—and afterward he touches his lips like he can’t believe he felt something he didn’t control.

His processors run hot for hours.
He replays the kiss in his mind like a rerun he never wants to end.

★ ALASTOR

The Radio Demon does not kiss people.

He charms, he laughs, he manipulates—
but kissing is intimacy, and intimacy is dangerous.

So when you lean in and press your lips to his cheek—softly, gently—
his usual grin freezes.

And then cracks.

For the first time in decades, his smile drops into a startled, flustered half-smirk.
A faint blush dusts his cheeks, almost undetectable.

“My, my… how bold,” he whispers.

He doesn’t kiss you back at first—he’s too stunned.
But later, when he walks you home, he stops under a quiet streetlamp.

“May I… return the gesture?”

The kiss is old-fashioned, warm, reverent.
And afterward, there’s a tremor of emotion in his voice he can’t hide.

“Darling… you are going to be the ruin of me.”

★ LUCIFER

He kisses like someone who’s had centuries to practice charm.

But the moment before the kiss?
That’s where the truth is.

He hesitates.
His voice softens.
His eyes lose their usual smug shine.

When you finally kiss him, he inhales sharply—
like you just pulled him back to life.

His wings flare behind him in a burst of involuntary motion.

He kisses you again immediately, deeper this time, his hands sliding around your waist like he’s waited ages for this.

When you pull back, breathless, he whispers:

“You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

And for once, the King of Hell sounds mortal.

★ CHARLIE

Charlie’s first kiss with you is pure emotion.

She doesn’t plan it.
She doesn’t prepare.
It just happens—

She’s rambling excitedly about something, you laugh, she looks at you with big sparkling eyes, and suddenly she blurts—

“Can I kiss you?”

You barely say “yes” before she leans in.

The kiss is soft, warm, and full of hope—
like she puts every bit of faith she has in you into that moment.

When she pulls back, she hides her face in her hands.

“Oh my gosh—I’m so sorry—I mean I’m not sorry—I just—wow—”

She shines for the rest of the day.
Literally.

★ VAGGIE

Vaggie tries to act like your first kiss doesn’t affect her.

She fails.

The moment you kiss her—quick, tender, careful—
her entire body stiffens like she’s been shot.

Then she melts.

Her hands grip your shirt, pulling you closer, kissing you again with unexpected passion, like she’s been holding back for months.

When it ends, she looks away, cheeks burning.

“I’m supposed to be the tough one here,” she mutters.
“Why’d you have to make it feel like that?”

She avoids eye contact for 30 minutes.
Then she takes your hand and refuses to let go.

★ ADAM

You kiss him first.

He literally doesn’t know what to do.

His wings snap open so hard they blow papers off tables.
He stares at you like you’ve violated the laws of God.

“I— that— you— YOU kissed ME?”

He’s flustered, embarrassed, and deeply, deeply affected.

He tries to pretend he didn’t like it.

He fails miserably.

Later that night, he’s alone in his room, touching his lips and whispering:

“…okay maybe it wasn’t terrible.”

The next time he sees you, he won’t look at you directly—
but he won’t stop staring either.

★ ABEL

Abel is sweet.
Abel is pure-hearted.
Abel is the kind who makes the first kiss feel like something sacred.

He asks permission in a soft whisper.

When you say yes, he cups your cheeks with trembling hands, brushing his thumbs along your skin before leaning in.

The kiss is tender.
Slow.
Full of gratitude and awe.

When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“That was… really nice,” he murmurs shyly.
“Can I… do it again?”

He becomes braver the second time.
And the third.

Hello, thank you for taking me up on that—I like the way you think... CRT!Vox was such a cutie!

CW/Tags: Smut, handjob, blowjob, Gentle-Dom!Reader, Sub Past!Vox, praise kink, some hurt/comfort

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Okay, So, for one, the very fascinating thing about this particular facet of Vox's personality is that it's really, by and far, the most him.

He's not hiding anything about himself, not acting with any ulterior motives the way he almost always does, but rather, just being himself! In love and sort and vulnerable.

And, well—you know how the story goes. He gets his heart stomped over the moment he bares it. Closes himself off, buries that vulnerability for good.

But... What if the story went a little differently? What if there was someone else he could just—be himself with?

That's where you come in.

Vox is just as willing to be his goofy, vulnerable self with you. You're... Different. Special.

So, when Alastor rejects him, the first person he turns to is you.

His worldview's been shaken up, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He's not even sure you're not going to just kick him out at the door.

But you let him in. You lend a listening ear. And then...

Not that any of this is your fault. He’s the one who decided to show up in that new Velvette-designed suit, all straps, buckles, and smugness. He looked like a warning label dressed as a sin.

What were you supposed to do, not climb into his lap?

His taste floods your tongue—metallic, electric, dizzying. It hits your brain like a drug, warm and overwhelming, and the kiss turns messy fast. Desperate, uncoordinated, addictive. You push deeper, feel him glitch under you—

BEEP-beep!

You freeze. Both of you part with a wet sound, a thin line of saliva stretching, breaking. In the top corner of his screen, a bright red alert blinks: ABNORMAL HEART RATE.

You stare at it. Then at him. Vox’s face glitches into a soft blue error overlay, embarrassment flickering pixel by pixel.

You start laughing.

“Fuck you— it’s not funny,” he snaps, voice clipping into static in a way that absolutely proves it is funny.

THUNK!

The desk shakes, You both whip around to see Shock.wav slam his snout into the reinforced glass again, water churning behind him

On Vox’s internal HUD, a bubble pops up in bold text: DADDY IS HURT.

“WAIT—WAIT, SHOCK.WAV! DADDY IS OKAY—HOLD ON—STOP—STOP!!”

if you'd rather buy a plushie - here's the shop he and his wife run!