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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months

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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, implied violence, implied emotional and physical abuse, implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 series.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor! This is a collaborative piece written with @isuckatwritingsobenice, whom I share a mutual adoration for Violet Evergarden, the anime and titular character who is in my humble opinion, one of the best written female protagonists I have seen in anime.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going for tonight's broadcast :)

Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment and chaos. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades!

When you had arrived at the hotel with nothing except the clothes on your back and a suitcase that protected your precious Remington typewriter, the Radio Demon would not deny that he was amused to see a sinner who actually saw his advertisement on the television. After all, no one was taking Charlie seriously, and who would? Apparently you did, but for a different reason: you were looking for a job, a purpose. You said so in the interview, and you were willing to learn. When Vagatha asked what would be considered a flaw in your work ethic, you took off your leather gloves and showed her and Charlie the alloy prosthetics that acted as your new limbs after losing them in the war.

Why you still had them and why your appearance was wholly human, you did not know. Would this be considered a flaw? You were not sure either. You are still learning about modern technology, especially the handheld devices called cell phones.

Although the staff was in dire need of someone who could advertise the Hazbin Hotel on the Internet, the princess found something you could do and might be adequate at: gardening. More specifically, being the hotel’s groundskeeper. Someone who can maintain the hotel’s outward appearance and make sure the hell-grass or weeds don’t get too out of control. You stood up from your seat, feet planted together and saluted Charlie, promising that you will do your best in a monotone voice.

The poor dear did get a little flustered from your actions, but Vagatha did not seem to mind, asking you to follow her upstairs so that she could show you your new room and give you the key. Your first day will be tomorrow.

Oh, this will be fun~! Alastor thought with a wide grin. Someone new to antagonize and watch fall into the fiery pits of failure! Husk was starting to bore him anyway.

And he was not disappointed.

He saw you struggle with holding a garden spade, laying down carpets of fresh grass neatly without trying to crush it between your prosthetic limbs, carrying fertilizer and what flowers to plant! These entertaining events happened within the first week of being here. Is he sorry that his shadows purposely swapped the fertilizer bags and replaced the seed bags to plant roses with rat bait? Absolutely not!

The more chaos that he created, the more entertained he will be. The anticipation to see you crumble from the pressure and expectations of dear Vagatha and Charlie is almost palpable, he couldn’t wait!

However, you were not someone who gave up as easily as he hoped you would.

You kept showing up every day at the exact time, and worked in the garden until Niffty had to drag you inside to have lunch. Then you stayed outside for a bit longer, making sure everything was ready for the following day. You even tried to help out in the kitchen, though you were still struggling to properly hold a knife and chop up vegetables for his jambalaya or cracking eggs in a bowl to help Niffty bake a cake at nine o’clock in the evening because she was bored and wanted something sweet.

You carried heavy crates of liquor for Husk and even massaged his temples when he complained of a headache. When you discreetly switched out the liquor in his booze for water one time he held a grudge against you for pulling that stunt for almost a week. He eventually forgave you by preparing a Shirley Temple on the house after you politely rejected a whiskey on the rocks because you did not drink alcohol.

Sir Pentious, the wannabe overlord, was utterly fascinated with your prosthetic limbs and had asked you to let him examine them. That comment earned him a low, menacing growl from Vagatha, spear in hand. The Egg Bois seemed to like you well enough that they tried to help you out in the garden when all they really did was make your job a bit harder. You still thanked them anyway.

Angel Dust tried to take you shopping for a new wardrobe since you always wore the same outfit every day, but his definition of fashion bordered on risque and flaunting his assets. You were not here to flaunt your appearance, you were here to work, but you thanked him anyway. When he came back to the hotel, staggering inside on wobbly legs and his face covered in black-blue bruises, you were the one who caught him and helped him settle on a table as Husk pulled out a first aid kit. You allowed Angel to put all four of his arms around you and cry on your shoulders, carefully placing your skeletal prosthetics around his back.

How is it that a single sinner could empathize with everyone here except him?

This singular thought, this curious idea, is what motivated Alastor to find out more about you. And there is no else in Hell who can spill the tea on someone as accurately as his dear friend Rosie.

A trip to Cannibal Colony was in order~! So he did go there, proclaiming he’ll be back before dinner and ignoring Vagatha’s cursing as well as the princess trying to calm down her short-tempered lover.

As it turned out, he had heard about you, it’s just that the topic in question did not interest him at the time. Rosie conjured up some old newspaper clippings, pointing at the image of you fighting against an exorcist in hand-to-hand combat during the Extermination. This article had been written five years ago, and the one before that? Three years ago. It seemed like you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you fought back because that is what your life had been before; surrounded by violence, vanquishing enemy forces when they crossed your path. Yet when you did make an appearance, everyone in Hell clamored for any scraps of information. Anything to find out who is the mysterious sinner who looked like a human and could rip off an exorcist’s head bare-handed.

Now, you were staying at the hotel trying to put whatever remained of your afterlife together. That is your true purpose and now the Radio Demon knew.

Alastor thanked Rosie for the information and the company, leaving Cannibal Colony in a merry mood. Everything was in place. Everything made perfect sense now.

If you were looking for a way to be useful in his newest project, he can make that happen. All he needs to do is nudge you in the right direction without Charlie and Vagatha around.

They are adorable when they are taking turns being a guard dog around you, you sweet little darling~.

Taglist

@chroniccorvus

@imperfectbloodmoon

@doc-tooth

@nixie-writes

@riddle-simp

@tired-of-life-86

@blackmageoffandoms

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ftmtoyboy · 5 months

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“You look so pretty like this” after beating me half to death >>>

#ftm ns/fw #ftm nsft #ftm sub #cnc k!nk #ftm cnc #r4p3 m3 #r4p3 kink #r4p3b4it #rough cnc #r4p3 fantasy #rough kink #abuse k1nk #r@petoy #r@pe kink #r@pe fantasy #cw rap3 #cw physical abuse

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an-idyllic-novelist · 3 months

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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way.

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around.

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you.

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it.

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago.

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others.

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much.

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk.

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess.

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do.

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day.

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out.

He saw you cook finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands.

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War.

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit.

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day.

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it.

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake whiny bitch.

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that.

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong.

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel.

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them.

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore.

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no.

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle.

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!”

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other.

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army. When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck.

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around scratching, kicking, and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off him and inhaling deep gulps of precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands.

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting.

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right.

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character.

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked.

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones.

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin.

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?”

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts.

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too.

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass.

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it.

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards.

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone.

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest.

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.”

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right. “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering.

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse.

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck.

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit.

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there?

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below, your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places.

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his.

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.”

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special.

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight.

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking.

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass.

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome."

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens.

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter.

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

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alastor-simp · 3 months

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Antidote☠️💉 - Angel Dust x Powerful Reader Part 1

⚠️Warning- This story contains mentions of abuse/sexual themes, so be warned if this makes you uncomfortable. This story is gonna contain some spoilers from Episode 4 of the series⚠️

Twirling the martini in your hand, you let out a sigh. You were sitting at the bar in the Hazbin Hotel, completely bored out of your mind. Your name was Y/N, or Morana, the frost demoness overlord that resided in Pride. Having arrived in Hell a few years ago, the power you wielded toppled over numerous overlords, causing you to be truly feared by those who attempted to threaten you. While you did possess unyielding power, you never used it for sadistic satisfaction, only in means to defend yourself. The true side of you was a compassionate demon, wanting to help those under dire circumstances, and also defend those you loved dearly. How you arrived at the hotel, was during one of your walks down Pride ring, and listened in to the 666 news. The broadcast was focused on Lucifers own daughter, Charlie Morningstar. She was going on about her hotel project that wanted to help rehabilitate demons, making them able to be forgiven to ascend to heaven. The sentiment touched you greatly, while the other demons around you, found it completely ridiculous and went on about their day. In fairness, redemption was not an easy thing to accomplish, and you had committed many sins in hell, that left you with no shot to go up to the golden gates. However, there were demons that either landed in hell for unknown reasons that didn't qualify as sin or wanted to make a change in their current life. Feeling for the kindhearted princess, you decided to head to the hotel, wanting to offer any services you could provide.

Charlie and Vaggie were shocked having seen you at the door, not expecting, not one but TWO overlords coming to the hotel. Charlie had heard the stories about you, but she saw purity in your eyes, and was ecstatic when you offered to help. Vagatha, immediately, pointed the spear to your throat, expected honesty, since you were almost on the same scale as Alastor. She saw no deception when you further explained yourself to her, resulting in her trusting you, but barely. Charlie then introduced you to everyone else that was residing in the lobby.

Laying on one of the couches appeared to be an 8 ft spider-like demon, sporting a semi-revealing outfit with pink gloves and black heels. Based on how he presented himself, he was very confident in his looks. His response to seeing you was a toothy smirk, along with a wink. It caused a bit of pink tinge to your cheeks. You responded back with a smile and wave, as Charlie kept dragging you by the hand. Simply adorable was your thoughts when you saw the little bundle of excitement, speed towards you, smiling wide and hopping with enthusiasm. She commented how pretty you were, before darting to catch the bugs with a needle. Catching a flash of red in the corner, your irises spotted Alastor the radio demon. You had come across him during your time in Hell. The both of you had no beef thankfully. You knew the power he wielded and treated him with respect, despite not enjoying his methods, but he was a gentleman, and that earned points in your book. Alastor assumed you were a power hungry overlord when he saw you near his turf, and couldn't wait to broadcast your screams in Hell. That idea diminished quickly, after learning how charming of a demon you were, and showed no fear when meeting him, acting very cordial with him. "Highly unusual" he thought since many demons feared him on sight, fleeing like cockroaches. He now considered you a very good companion, which wasn't easy to accomplish, so consider yourself VERY LUCKY being in Alastors good books. The last demon, was a anthropomorphic cat demon, standing near the hotel bar. He was guzzling cheep booze, before stopping when you introduced yourself. A head nod was his response to you, as he went back to drinking. Vaggie was able to tell you his name was Husk, and he was a bit of a grump.

Your arrival occurred a few months ago, and you had managed well in the Hotel. True, it was a bit difficult to get new demons to come, but like Charlie, you had many inspiring ideas to help, which Charlie greatly appreciated. Sir Pentious was the new addition to the group. He was very fearful of you since you had roughed him up a bit in the past when he was going around blowing up everything with his blimp. You appeased him, saying that you were here to help and that you would not fight him again. Well, he was very grateful for that. He was a bit of a dork, but he had a soft heart underneath that "wannabe overlord" persona. The relationships you built with everyone only grew over time, and you considered them all family, despite being very dysfunctional. Back to the present at the hotel bar, you were observing Charlie and the others, minus Alastor, watching one of Angels most popular films. It was obvious it was highly inappropriate so you decided to skip seeing it, but you felt rude to just leave the room, so you stayed around.

"Haha! What do you think you f✪✪✪✪? Starting to appreciate how good my skills are yet? I told ya let me do the next advertisement for this place, and there will be a line out the door!" Angel dust exclaimed this, laughing while laying on the couch. Charlie was flushed to her ears, but she was able to clear her throat and said that while she appreciated Angel wanting to help, she didn't want to exploit him like that. Rolling his eyes, Angel just said "whatever toots" and crossed his arms. A loud ringing penetrated the room, causing everyone to jump. It was Angel Dusts phone, giving how quick he got up to answer it. He was quick to walk away from the group, but you knew something was off, as you tried to listen to the conversation. "B-boss, You need me right now?! But I- No no, I'm not- Sigh, okay Valentino." That did not sound good. Your eyes gazed at Angel's face, and you saw the fear plastered all over it. That face was quick to disappear, and Angel put on a wide smile. "Welp. Time to head to work. Sayonara Bit✪✪✪✪" Flashing everyone four middle fingers, he bolted out the door. "Wait Angel" Charlie extended her hand out to stop Angel, but it was too late. Getting up from the bar, you placed your hand on Charlie's back, asking what was wrong. Charlie went on to explain that she wanted to finish the exercise with Angel, but now he got called away from his boss." Charlie insisted that she wanted Angel to spend more time at the hotel, but she knew he had a job to do with his current boss. Thinking of a way to help, your thoughts dissipated when Charlie came up with an idea. She would go to his workplace and talk to Angel's boss. "Charlie, I understand you want to do this, but it might not be so easy to reason with Valentino." Warning Charlie, you tried to make her change her mind but she was determined to do it. Heaving a sigh, you let Charlie go through with the plan, but you were coming along, since you figured she might need some help dealing with the moth man.

"Ah! Angel-cakes~! You made it right on time." Valentino swayed his way over to Angel, who was wearing a large fake smile, as he didn't want to upset him. "Of course, boss!" Angel winked at Val, as his body was getting dragged by him. "Wanted to do a spicy session today~. Couldn't decide on BDSM or doing 20 guys, but I figured why not both. You can handle it right, baby~!" Valentino leaned down towards Angel, exposing his golden tooth, as red saliva dripped from his mouth. Chills rain down Angels back, and he wanted to pull away, but he stopped himself. "Of course Val. You know me. I can go on forever without stopping" Angel smiled through the pain. "Excellent Angel-cakes. Now run along and get ready, and be quick about it" His sweet laced words then turned venomous, as he smacked Angels behind causing him to yelp, as he went into his dressing room. Angel was standing in the center of the shooting room, getting touched up by the makeup crew. Cameras were scattered around the room and stage lights were aiming at Angel. Valentino was sitting in the directors chair, gazing at Angel with glowing red eyes. "Now ACTION!!" The clapperboard snapped, signaling Angel to start. Heaving a deep sigh, Angel put on a smile and started doing what he does best.

youtube

(This song is such a bop and extremely heartbreaking. Credit to Blake Roman and Vivziepop for making this amazing song)

🎶I'm not above a love to cash in Another lover underneath those flashin' lights Another one of those ruthless nights Yeah, yeah, yeah I shoulda' guessed that this would happen I shoulda' known it when I looked in your red-hot eyes Spewin' all your red-hot lies Yeah, yeah, yeah What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself 'Cause I know you're poison You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm livin' like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear Yeah, yeah, yeah So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp Yeah, I know it's poison You're feedin' me poison I'm chokin' from the taste and I can't help but swallow Up your poison I made my choice, and Every night I'm wasted like there's no tomorrow Oh-oh, oh-oh Any way you want me, baby That's the way you got me, I'll be yours My story's gonna end with me dead from your poison Poison, I'm drownin' in poison I'm fillin' up my glass but it's always hollow Full of poison, I'm sick of the poison Wish I had something to live for tomorrow…🎶

Laying on the floor in his dressing room, Angel was curled up into a ball. Tears were raining down his cheeks, staining it with black mascara. He was in pain, it was clear, but he had to pull through with it, unless he wanted to suffer Valentino's wrath. A knocking was heard from the other side of the door. It was one of the crew members telling Angel it was time for the next session. Collecting himself off of the ground, he walked over to his mirror. Wiping off the stains of ruined makeup, he applied it back on. Staring at himself in the mirror, it took everything in him not to punch his reflection. Taking a deep breath, Angel put on his mask, and headed to the next session. As he made his way over to the shooting spot again, Angel heard voices from the right side of the room. Looking towards them, he gasped in shock, seeing both you and Charlie entering inside the room. "WTH were they doing here?!" he thought as he rushed over towards them. "Oh excuse me, sorry, sorry." Charlie was bumping into everyone, despite blushing as she still wasn't use to this stuff. Following behind her, you tried to look for Angel, until your eyes spotted him walking towards the both of you. "Charlie!! Y/N!! What the f✪✪✪ are you doing here?!" Charlie smiled up at Angel, saying they wanted to see him and if they could talk with his boss. "Now is not a good time! Come on, get out of here before he sees you!" Warning them to leave, Angel tried to push the both of you back outside.

"Well Well, Angel-cakes! You didn't tell me you brought guests to my fine establishment~." A seductive voice came from behind the three of you. Valentino was making his way over, swaying his hips as he walked. "Why if it isn't the Princess of Hell? Such a pleasure to meet you." Valentino bent down, while grabbing her arm, giving it a lick. "Umm hello (no thank you)" Charlie gave an uncomfortable smile, not enjoying what Valentino did. Feelings of disgust began to build up inside you at his actions. His red piercing eyes then locked on you. "Oh what a beauty! Who might you be, darling~?" Valentino had leaned closer to your face, placing his hands around areas that were a major red flag. "My name is Y/N and I prefer if you would remove your hands from me." Your eyes glowed a neon blue, as you had grabbed his arms and push them back towards himself. His eyes widen at that, and a glare flashed towards you before his signature smirk came back. "Oh feisty~. I like that in a lady." Standing back to his regular height, he moved back a little bit and gazed at the both of you. "Now what are you fine specimens doing in a place like this~?" His crimson eyes were piercing the both of you. Angel had moved to the side, gazing down at the ground. He was petrified in fear, you could see it. "Yes, sorry. I was wondering if we could talk to you about Angel." Charlie chirped up, not reading the mood clearly. Valentino placed his hands on his hips, wondering what they wanted with his number one star. "Angel is staying at the Hazbin Hotel, and we had some rehabilitation activities we wanted to do with him. We understand he works for you, but we wanted to know if it was possible if he was able to get a break for today." Charlie's smile was so angelic. You knew she was being very sincere with what she was saying. Gazing at Valentino, you saw the slight twitch in his smirk as Charlie continued to talk.

"Oh I see~ Let me discuss this with Angel-cakes privately~." Angel grimaced at that statement, as he felt an arm loop around his neck, and moving him towards his dressing room. Charlie looked at the both of them with a frown, sensing something wrong. Your emotions were rising as you knew something was very wrong given how Angel was acting when his boss was near. Pushed into the room, Angel turned back towards Valentino. "Wait Val! I didn't know they were gonna show up her-" Angels words were cut off with a backhand to his face. "You pequeña mierda! What gives you the right to bring those sluts to my club?!" Valentino kicked Angel, sending him flying across the room. "AGH" Angel exclaimed in pain, as he hugged himself, shaking in fear. Valentino marched towards him, glaring down at him. Picking him up off the ground, he slammed Angel against the wall. "Do you not remember who owns you?! I'm the one that controls you. I have your soul, or did you forget that?" Choking him, Angel gasped for breath, as the life was squeezed out of him. Valentino smirked down, extending his head next to Angel's ear. "Those little putas can't save you Angel. Besides that hotel is not your home, this is, here with me~. Now, you are going to tell those little c✪✪✪✪ to leave. Understand~" Angel was trying to pull Val's hands off, crying tremendously.

"ENOUGH!!"

TO BE CONTINUED

Tagging:

@forbidden-sunlight

@pinkcrystal44

@veethewriter

@danveration

@sarahwasbeforeee

@cookiekyo

@iiotic

@delectableworm

@91062854-ka

@lovesomemha

@luujjvi

Part 2 Here

Epilogue Here - Warning Smut

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waystarresourceco · 7 months

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Jesse explaining that although all three boys generally experienced the same physical abuse, Roman has internalized his experience as a victim in a different way than Kendall and Connor.

“I would suggest Logan would have cuffed and hit all the boys at different times in their lives. I think the difference for Roman maybe is that he feels like he was bullied in the domestic environment and so we can all react to things in different ways. I think Connor and Kendall probably have experienced that and have managed to accommodate it without it being a big part of their psychology whereas I think Roman being that beaten dog and being - there’s often a dynamic isn’t there with bullied people as sort of needing the feeling of negative attention that you get from that and I think he’s become, not addicted to it, but related to it.”

Excerpt from Firecrotch and Normcore: They Like to Watch (recorded at Edinburgh Fringe Festival) – Aug. 29, 2023

#I haven’t seen it circulate tumblr so I’m not sure how popular this take is here #but I think it fits when you think about Austerlitz and the scripts from The Disruptor and Honeymoon States #I really do wonder so much about Connor’s childhood though #like what on Earth went on in that house while Logan was on his way up #I can see it being both worse and better because on the one hand there’s no one watching but on the other hand…there’s no one watching #Man I wish we had more Connor lore #also endlessly fascinated by Roman’s victim complex #roman roy #kendall roy #logan roy #connor roy #hbo succession #jesse armstrong #cw abuse #cw parental abuse #cw physical abuse

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greenteaandtattoos · 1 year

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TO EVERYONE WHO HASN’T SEEN RWBY VOLUME 9 EPISODE 8, IT IS BRUTAL. BY FAR THE DARKEST RWBY HAS EVER GONE. MIND THESE TRIGGER WARNINGS:

SUICIDE

TORTURE

ANIMAL DEATH

PHYSICAL ABUSE

EMOTIONAL ABUSE

PLEASE WATCH AT YOUR OWN RISK. THERE IS A CONTENT WARNING AT THE START OF THE EPISODE, BUT IT DOES NOT SPECIFY WHAT FOR.

#rwby #rwby9 #orringinal warnings #cw suicide #cw torture #cw animal death #cw physical abuse #cw emotional abuse

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gabessquishytum · 26 days

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Oh OG Warprize Hob Anon wherefore art thou..... I just thought it was time to show thanks and appreciation for one of the best AUs (imo) to come out of the Dreamling ship. Not a week goes by where I don't think about their writing, and spin headcanons and scenarios of my own in my head. One of the most underrated aspects of their writing I think is Dream's ruthlessness and cruelty in that AU, it's so rare to see Dream just be a toppy asshole all the way through, fellow fans seem to prefer to see him as an emotional bottom twink 😭. One of the rare AUs where Hob is allowed to be the sensitive wanton bottom all throughout 🤤🤤 Ohh OG Warprize Hob Anon, I miss your writing so much, I hope to see your writing grace this dashboard once more, especially with more dark Dream moments. For my fellow fans, I thought I'd do a small thing and compile all their asks here. I'm so sorry if this is sloppy, but I just copy-pasted these here.

Warprize Hob AU

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know where this came from?? Dubcon/noncon cw, or it’s kinky roleplay if you prefer that. But...

Hob fought bravely, a solider in the war of greater men. He even crossed blades with terror in all black, the Nightmare King himself once. They said it was better for a solider like him to die with honor than to be taken alive. But when the tide turned and Hob’s own sworn sovereign fell, all he wanted was to live. He laid down his blade, expecting to be taken into chains. But not chains like these.

He kneels, blindfolded, on the bed, naked other than pure gold bondage, thin chains that truss him everywhere. Gold binds his hands at his back. Gold cuffs secure his ankles, connected by a flimsy thread only put there so it could be snapped apart. Gold laces around his tits, catching in his chest hair. Gold threads between new ruby piercings in his nipples—still so sensitive that even the touch of silk sends bolts of pure heat through his body. Every time he twitches, he sees stars. Gold loops like garters around his thighs, connected to the glimmering chain around his hips. And gold ribbon cages his achingly hard cock and full balls.

Hob is so, so hard. He has been since they fed him sweet candied fruits laced with a magic that heated his blood until he was begging those faceless servants to please, please let him come. They didn’t. Instead, he was bathed and perfumed with jasmine oil brushed through his hair (everywhere). He was opened with gentle touches and generous oil, a marble plug nestled inside him, blessedly cool against his burning skin. He was left on the bed with a final chain connecting his collar to the bedframe.

His prick so hard in its confines, and the plug is not enough. He still feels terribly empty. Against his own will, he finds himself rocking back and forth, rubbing his thighs together, desperate for anything that might help him get pleasure where he needs it most.

Until with no warning, a hand touches his head. He stills. He thought he was alone. Strong, thin fingers brush down his face, linger on his lips. A gentle thumb pushes inside his mouth. Hob moans, body thrumming like a harp just to be touched so simply.

“Peace, my prize,” a deep voice, peaceful as slumber, murmurs. The blindfold is pulled down and Hob blinks blearily into the face of the Nightmare King himself. He smiles, confident and regal, and slim fingers caress his side, down to his ass, and push against the plug until it finally presses where Hob needs it. "I will give you what you crave.”

Gabe:

Mmmm yes!!!! I love this.

Hob as Dream’s chosen prize after his victory in battle? Oh yes, excellent. I particularly adore the idea of Hob being unknowingly fed some kind of aphrodisiac to make him needy - Dream wants him to be willing, so he will simply make sure that he has no choice but to be.

Also, the preparation... Hob would usually be utterly humiliated by such an act. It's so impersonal and degrading. But all he can think about is how much he wants to cum, so he spends the whole time whining and begging for more. By the time Dream gets to him, Hob is spreading his legs like a well trained whore who's never known anything different. He's nearly forgotten the battle and his instincts as a warrior, he just wants to be fucked. Anyone could come into the room and have him and Hob would just be grateful.

But he isn't for just anyone, oh no. He's the king’s prize, his spoils of war. He suckles desperately on Dream’s thumb, sticks his arse out temptingly and generally tries to make himself as tempting as possible. He aches, and his brain is fuzzy, the king is absolutely the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen right now.

Not to mention his cock is perfect - the most perfect Hob has ever had inside him. It's as though his body has been molded perfectly for the king’s cock. He's not sure if he's ever cum so many times in his life.

When he comes back to himself several hours later, sweating and sticky and aching... he knows that he should be angry and hurt. He should get up from the beautiful bed and find some way to escape. But. He's tired, and hungry. The bed is comfortable, and the king is staring at him with sparkling black eyes.

He rolls over. Cum trickles gently down his thighs. The king holds out his hand, one of those candied fruits held between his long pale fingers.

Hob opens his mouth.

Anonymous asked:

Hiii I’m the originally war prize hob anon, lured back because I was blown away by how you and everyone else responded to the idea! Amazing work, go team.

Here’s more. (It’s so long. I’m sorry)

At first, Hob was confined to the bed chamber, a decoration, a pretty thing—and so rarely has Hob ever considered himself pretty. Pretty was for swallow-boned young men and women with smooth thighs. Pretty was not him, full bodied and furred. He has always pleased his lovers, they have found him handsome. But most have expected him to take charge and take care of them, not to—to—

Submit with spread legs and open mouth. To tempt. To eat sweet aphrodisiacs from those long, pale fingers until he’s begging to feel them for inside him. Sweet humiliation.

The king wants this. They pass long nights pounding Hob’s pride to shreds. He learns to beg under the king’s cock, his cruel mouth, and the touch of those inhuman eyes. Even sober, he only has to think of the king and his body floods with hot want. But still. Hob doesn’t understand.

“Why me?” He dared ask the first week, the king with a hand fisted in his hair, thrusting into him so deep and slow, Hob could feel it in his throat.

The king paused. A cool hand trailed down Hob’s back. Gathered the chains that pooled at his back, the ones he hadn’t yet snapped in his fervor. “I am interested.”

Hob meant to press him, even at the risk of his own peril, but the king slammed back into him and every thought vanished.

And then Hob is brought out of the bed and taken to kneel at the throne during the days too, chained to the king’s hand. At first, Hob assumes he is meant to be a symbol of the king’s power. Or a toy to warm the king’s cock when the duties of court grow dull. (Hob is both.)

But then comes a night when the king ponders battle plans for his next great war. And he turns to Hob.

“My general suggested we surge ahead and meet the enemy at their own gate. You rolled your eyes.” The king looks at Hob as if he is peeling the layers of muscle and bone away, finding the heart of him. And Hob realizes that all day, the king had noticed him listening. Not always—sometimes the king prefers to see him squirm, prefers to press the heavy gold plug into his hole and watch Hob strain for hours to keep it in, only to fail. During those hours, Hob had not heard a thing.

But when the king had allowed Hob to rest his head against his solid thigh, Hob had listened. And he had been seen doing it.

“Your enemy will expect a frontal attack. A show of strength. For you are a strong king. Respectfully, that’s a brave way to kill many of your own men.”

“Hmm.” The king says nothing else. He beckons until Hob kneels again at his side, the bowl of candied fruits, as always, sitting on the table. The king plucks one up and offers it to Hob.

“My lord,” Hob breathes. “Why do you care what I think?”

Hands brush through his hair. “Eat,” the king murmurs.

This king wants something. He waits for something. Hob cannot work out what. Yet.

He eats.

Gabe:

Assfggjkl og warprize anon!!!!!!

I am so taken with Hob’s thoughtfulness, his curiosity. His fearlessness. And I think that Dream is rapidly becoming besotted with these things too.

Hob isn't scared of him. No matter how ruthless and harsh he is, no matter which way Dream forces Hob to bend, he always springs back up with those curious eyes, wanting to know what's next. Dream suspects that he doesn't need the aphrodisiacs at all - that Hob would be willing to spread himself out in any arrangement of Dream’s choosing. But Dream is afraid of rejection, and Hob enjoys the lustful oblivion just a little bit too much to ask for a change.

Hob is clever and capable and good with his hands. When Dream comes to him wounded from some accident or skirmish, Hob knows exactly how to bind the flesh carefully but firmly. He rests his head in Dream’s lap after, like a beloved pet hound. His breathing is so soothing, Dream even manages to fall asleep. He wakes up and Hob is already between his legs, ready and waiting to be choked on the king’s cock as usual.

Dream fucks him instead, as ferocious as ever but this time with a purpose. Hob is his prize and the world ought to know about it. From now on, he'll have Hob smelling of his cum, always. He'll have him littered with bite marks and bruises. He'll keep Hob close, make sure the end of his gold leash is always within reach. He'll bring Hob to the battlefield, if he must.

A creature as magnificent as Hob must be treated as he deserves. And Dream alone can give him what he needs.

Anonymous asked:

War prize hob anon, here!!! I am loving the responses to this idea! So many amazing brilliant takes, love to see it.

The talk of whether Hob would escape or stay and be spoiled inspired me (glorious takes on both sides) so I drabbled on the subject…

It takes time. Trust. And a letter opener left unattended.

That night, Hob slides quietly as he can out of the silk sheets. He sits astride the sleeping king, his face turned toward the moon, his neck a deceptive swan’s curve. And Hob raises the blade to it.

One slice. And he is free.

It does not matter, he tells himself, that he has never been fucked so well. That the king is kind to him, relatively. He could take Hob with violence and pain or share him. Instead he feeds Hob fruits to heat his blood so that every time he plunders his body, with fingers, tongue and cock, Hob welcomes him.

Even the humiliations and hurts of his new service are given a sweet edge. The way he was spanked for misbehaving, hard and brutal, until his skin was red and tender. Followed by a hot tongue in his ass. The way he was made to kneel for hours and hold the king’s cock in his mouth. Followed by servants massaging the aches from his body and tending to his bad knee. (Yet another reason Hob is a poor choice for a prize.) In the king’s service, Hob might hurt. But he rewards him with such care…lavishes attention on him until Hob cannot come any more.

No. Hob has to do this. He must escape. He has his pride. This is just pleasure. Nothing more.

“Well?” The king’s voice interrupts his turmoil. Oh gods. He is awake. He surges up, knocking the blade from his grip. A hand clamps on his thigh, another on his wrist and he is rolled on his back, away from the blade. The chain between his wrists, once wide to allow him movement, slithers shorter until the cuffs kiss, and the collar tightens just enough to threaten his breathing. For all his battle prowess, struggling it gets him nowhere but squirming and pinned. The nightmare king settles over Hob like a dragon on top of its hoard. He stares unblinkingly down at him.

“You could not do it,” comes that deep whisper. Hob stills. “You are a well-trained solider yet for nearly five minutes you sat with a blade at my neck and did not make your move. Why?”

Hob swallows. A hot open mouthed kiss blooms just under his jaw, followed by the press of teeth. Even without the candied fruit his body sings for this man. What is happening to him?

“My pet. My prize. You must already face great consequences for this disobedience,” the king says. “I may not let you come for weeks. Answer me or it will be months.”

“I had to try. I had to—I don’t understand.” It isn’t the first time he has asked, pled, begged to know. “I’m at my wits end. Please. Why me?”

Fingers slip between them to tease at his hole and Hob resists the powerful, heady urge to submit and grind against him. For as long as he can before his resolve crumbles into lust. It will not be long. It never is.

The king gives the same maddening answer he always gives. The only one, whispered against his lips. “I am interested.”

Gabe:

Hnnnnng.

Og warprize hob anon…… i hope you know that you’ve created a beautiful monster and we’re all horny about it. i hope you also know that your words are beautiful and your prose is delightful. it’s a pleasure to read.

Oh but the turmoil Hob goes through. There’s nothing that the king can do to soothe the way his mind is twisting and turning, bouncing between loyalty to himself and some mad, misplaced loyalty to this nightmare of man. What does Hob owe Dream, really? His life? What kind of life is this?

He could set himself free. He thinks he’s almost worked it out. He could take away the one think the king seems to want. He could make himself… dull. Boring, predictable. Uninteresting.

But.

He thinks about long, thin fingers running down his spine and soothing the perpetual ache at the small of his back. Warm salve on his knee, applied at the king’s own orders. His body rigid and sweating in the night from some bad dream, suddenly embraced by cool arms. A kiss on his brow in the early morning. He’s been so greedy for those things, has coveted them and gloried in them. How can he live without them now?

Worse: what would the nightmare king do with a broken toy? Hob doesn’t want to find out.

He bounces in Dream’s lap with renewed fervor when he’s finally allowed the privilege of taking the king’s cock again. But there’s a heat behind his eyes, a kind of determination that he’d thought long dead and gone. He’ll find some way to win this game, this strange warped little battle. His own feelings be damned, Hob will not be broken. Even a king must have some chink in his armor, somewhere.

Dream raises a delicate eyebrow and almost, almost smiles. Pulls his prize closer by his golden leash.

“Interesting.”

Anonymous asked:

Hiiii warprize anon here! Glad to see people are still warprizing hob, I think it’s good for him. Truly, anons, you are doing glorious work with that AU.

I wanted to write dark obsessive dream next in all his dubcon glory next but no one cooperated? Have some less porny character introspection instead ig…

It’s amazing how little it takes for a grown man to become used to being a pet. As weeks stretch into months, Hob revels, just a little. In the lustful linger of eyes on his body. In the quirk of that cruel mouth when Hob pleases the king. The eager stirring of his cock even before he eats aphrodisiacs. Even his punishments—even the hot lash of the whip—begins to feel like sacrilegious worship. Gasping for breath, holding his thighs spread as the king buries himself in his body certainly is. In the blackest and most honest hours of the night, Hob knows the truth. He is starting to like it.

That’s the danger of the king’s service.

Hour by orgasmic hour, the king is twisting himself into Hob’s mind and body like a key carving out its own lock. He demands Hob’s submission, his pleasure and his desire for his own. But how many people had the king had in such a way? How many prizes have knelt, and learned to live at his pleasure? And where are they now? Abandoned surely, replaced. Hob is the chalice the king sips from now but he is one of dozens, maybe even hundreds. The king might have taken a prize from every battle won.

Hob is…not special.

He kneels on his cushion, waiting for the king who has stepped from the throne room, and reminds himself.

Footsteps approach and stop just behind him. Always, when the king is away, a guard is assigned to keep a close eye for Hob’s protection, though none are allowed to take his chains in their grip. Not unless Hob runs. Daring, the guard plucks at the chain between his nipples until it swings against Hob’s chest. He holds his breath.

“How’s it going?” A voice drawls. “Knees a little tired?”

Hob glances at the door for the absent king before raising his head. The guard above him smirks like he knows a joke and Hob is the punchline.

“Yes, rather,” Hob replies. “Even with the cushion.”

“His majesty seems to like that,” he muses.

Corinthian. That is his name. He’d heard the king give him orders with iron in his voice. The way one talked to a guard dog who wasn’t trusted. A creature who couldn’t be taught to fear the whip.

“You’d know better than me.” Hob meets his eye as best he can through the man’s dark glasses. He is very handsome, golden and strong. Perhaps this is the answer. Perhaps prizes who lose their luster are given other ways to serve.

Corinthian tilts his head. Hob feels his eyes trace down the marks the king left. Lurid love bites at his throat and faint fingertip bruises on his hips. “I really don’t. Suppose I’m not his type.”

“Surely you’ve seen the others then.” Hob replies. He keeps his hands folded where they’re bound at the small of his back.

“Other … prizes?” Corinthian’s grin only grows. “Sweetheart, no. You’re the first.”

Hon stares but senses no lie. “Can’t be.“

“Picking a prize always been his right but he’s never felt the need to use it until now. Until you.” The man leans closer, dangerously into his space. Hob feels him breathing, he’s so close. “I’ve heard the sounds he pulls from you at night. He must have years of pent up energy.”

Hob’s throat is dry. Something fragile, winged and stupid flutters in his chest. But before he has to think of a reply, Corinthian snaps back to a respectful distance an instant before the doors swing open, and the king sweeps in. He climbs the stairs, slinks back to claim his throne. Hob is still reeling when his cool hand finds his chin and tilts his head up.

“You did not move,” the king says. It is not a question but an expectation.

Hob shakes his head. For a long moment his eyes glitter down on him, simply watching. Then fingers card through his hair and he is guided to rest his head against his king’s knee.

Gabe:

Lying face down on the floor after reading this tbh. Like. What can I say? What can I add?

Knowing that he's the only one is a further kind of beautiful torture for Hob, because once again he's asking himself over and over again: why? Why him, above anyone else? There's a part of him in agony over his imprisonment, the curtailing of his freedoms, the fact that his mind and body are no longer his own. Then there's the part of him who wants to know why, so he can be good. He needs to know how he can keep the favour that he has miraculously obtained.

And Dream? He never gives answers. If Hob even dared to ask more than a small, sobbed "why me?" in the midst of some blissful torture, Dream wouldn't bother to answer. Hob thinks that the king likes him kept ignorant and confused. It's another way to keep him in line. He's always dancing on a knife's edge, wondering whether the king will eventually toss him aside - never knowing if he's truly safe.

So he'd better be as good as he can. Never give Dream a reason to throw him away. But he will slip up eventually - its only a matter of time...

Anonymous asked:

As requested, here’s some warprize!hob being punished by dark!dream for bad behavior. Also… thanks panickingstudent2’s last ask for some very specific inspo!

The king chains him up by his wrists. No gold cuffs with velvet interiors here. Not for this. This is punishment, work fit for dungeons, cold and deep as his king’s displeasure. Hob is already delirious from too much candied fruit. The cage has been cruelly clenched around his hot, aching cock for days now but he needs to be fucked, he needs it, he needs it.

“Mercy,” he begs but it won’t do him any good. He’s been begging for days, his cock and balls hot and aching.

Fury is divine on the nightmare king’s face. Other kings would simply kill him. Leave his body for the ravens. But Hob’s king will not let him go.

“I would have you obey me,” the king says. Fingers brush against his hole and don’t even push in where Hob yearns for them despite himself. He cants his hips back weakly, but the fingers go away. “But if I must bring you low again and again, I will. And I will enjoy it every time.”

He steps back. And the whip snaps through the air and white-hot fire flashes across Hob’s back.

Wet agony blooms across his shoulders and bloodred welts.

“You know why I must do this,” the king says. “You know why it is my pleasure to do this.”

The whip lashes again and again, fire licking across his skin. It doesn’t stop when Hob screams. Or when he sobs. When it’s done, his entire back glows like an ember. The king faces him, eyes black holes in his pale, sharp face. He places a cool hand on Hob’s back and he presses into the soothing touch, whining like a newborn babe.

“Please, I’m sorry, please, pleasepleaseplase,” he breathes. The king twists him around until the cuffs pull tight. He drags the plug from his hole, and finally buries himself to the hilt in his ass. Hob wails. Hands tangle in his chest hair and pull him flush against his king, as he plunges in and out at a ruinous pace. Being finally filled is sweeter relief than when the whip stopped.

“Say you are mine,” the king says. Once he was quiet, and constrained whenever he touched Hob and this is why—the need in his voice is barely bridled. Hob is not the only desperate one. “Say it.” The king bites, sudden and sharp at Hob’s earlobe.

“I’m yours—Morpheus!” His head snaps back as his body thunders through a cruel, dry orgasm. He doesn’t hear the king’s soft gasp against his ear, or register the name he’s cried. He’s in pain, from his cock to his shoulders—yet Hob floats. Perhaps he could fly.

Love, Warprize Anon

Gabe:

Hnnnggg. I am. Deeply obsessed with this. I love it when you drop these beautiful snippets for us!!! Hob calling the king by his name in the middle of a punishment/orgasm? Talk about a mind-fuck. Poor thing, he's truly terrified.

But it isn't just fear, is it? It would be so much simpler if he could say that he's scared and be done with it. So much easier to handle that emotion. What he feels is more that fear. He's grown attached to the king, longs for him when they're apart and fears him when they're together. When he tries to imagine a life away from his capture, he can't even manage it anymore. It's impossible to see beyond the king, who looms so large in Hob’s thoughts all the time. He's obsessed, addicted, terrified, longing to be taken and horrified by the idea all the same.

All he knows is that his king has power over him that he will probably never comprehend. Perhaps its time to surrender and acknowledge that he's lost. He no longer belongs to himself. He belongs to Morpheus.

-Love Yan Anon <3

Aww, hey Yan Anon!!! It's nice to hear from you. And thank you for highlighting OG Warprize Anon and their incredible work (you're a trooper for scrolling through and copy/pasting everything, seriously). Warprize au has definitely been a big hit, as it rightly should be, and it's great to look back on how it all started. Hopefully OG Warprize Anon is out there doing great and knowing that they inspired many, many people.

Hopefully we'll see more content for the Dark Dream enjoyers out there. I certainly lean towards a mean toppy Dream myself, although I'm not immune to Obliterating That Twink either. There's room for everyone in the fandom - and don't forget to leave comments for your favourite authors as Yan Anon has here. It's a great way to encourage your faves to write more of the stuff that you love!

#yan anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #warprize hob #cw dubcon #cw drugging #cw intox #cw pain #cw physical abuse

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bonefall · 1 month

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I genuinely have no clue how someone can think "getting hit on the ear doesn't hurt"

Getting hit ANYWHERE on the head fucking hurts. I've got plenty of experience with it (various sources) for me personally, top of the head hurts worst (I have a gnarly scar there from a dog bite, very sensitive), but ear is pretty high on the list. Bonus Points for how the sensation made my tinnitus act up

The head is like a thin layer of watermelon rhine wrapped around the most precious organ in your body, and to discourage you from bashing it open, it was wrapped in meat that screams when it gets too close to a dangerous object.

I'm also having a hard time understanding how a person can come to that conclusion. It's... it's right there. You can touch and pull and smack your own ear. You will feel it hurt more than most other parts of your body.

I can only conclude that the anon has never had their ear physically abused, and quite frankly, I hope they never do. I hope they know their lack of personal experience is enviable.

#Anyone who hasn't been clobbered on the ear also probably doesn't understand how LOUD it feels #If you get hit at the wrong angle on the ear canal it feels like the air compresses down into it. It is extremely painful #And it rings afterwards #Cw physical abuse #Tw physical abuse #Physical abuse #Cw child abuse #Tw child abuse #Child abuse #And thats blunt force; i think one of the most painful incidents i went through was getting dragged across a floor by the ear #I've had black eyes. Been slapped in the face. Had a door hit me and been bonked with a car trunk #None of those hurt as much

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eway · 4 months

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Ok so anyone who has read my fic Nightmares knows I headcanon that Blaise was physically abusive to Sebastian. Besides personality of Blaise I didn't think it had much ground in canon, until I saw this sequence again

Maybe I'm looking too deep into it, but I feel the fact that Sebastian instinctively shields himself when his father approaches is very telling.

At this point, Blaise can't really hurt him because there are witnesses around. So this is on instinct.

Also, I do think that if Sebastian had gone with Blaise back home like Blaise suggested, Sebastian would have "disappeared".

Yeah I hate Blaise Debeste.

#cw child abuse #tw child abuse #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #Ace Attorney #ace attorney spoilers #Ace Attorney Investigations 2 #Yumihiko Ichiyanagi #Sebastian Debeste #Bansai Ichiyanagi #Blaise Debeste #Gyakuten Kenji #Gyakuten Kenji 2 #Ace Attorney Investigations #eway talks

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artofrhues · 2 years

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SHATTERING

Please heed the content/trigger warnings below

CW - Domestic abuse, spousal abuse, emotional abuse, aftermath of physical abuse,strong language

#cw abuse #helluva boss fanart #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss octavia #artofrhues #emotional abuse #physical abuse #cw emotional abuse #cw physical abuse #helluva boss stella

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cyphyree · 1 year

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A very small innocuous detail I noticed was that Gio's step-dad was always depicted wearing a cross, like it's very deliberately shown even when his step-dad's body was turned away from us in the manga. When Polpo asks Giorno if he's religious, Giorno just replies he isn't devote.

I kinda wonder how that plays into his view of the world. His step-dad is his parent and a follower of Christ, and he's supposed to be Giorno's positive role model, but obviously that wasn't the case. (Maybe his step-dad used his religion as an excuse to beat Giorno, but either way It's EUGHHHHH >:C )

I feel like Gio detected that dissonance of how these authority figures are supposed to protect and stand for good, but instead caused or enabled harm.

And then the mafia, a system that normally caused harm (well i mean it does regardless), somehow produced a man who gave Giorno some of that protection and dignity he needed to grow into a righteous person.

On a related note, Diavolo and Doppio were raised by a priest who actually seemed like a very caring and loving father, and that did squat for their moral compass.

So I guess it all plays into the theme of how people can come from different places, but they're not necessarily bound to their upbringing-- they forge their own person. A good person can come from the worst places, a bad person can come from the best of places. Even Giorno, during the lowest point of his life, *chose* to save that gangster, even tho the narrator tells us he's destined to become a twisted person at the time.

Authority figures that are supposed to stand for good can be corrupt and they don't guarantee to create good people. It's up to the individuals themselves, and guidance to a better path can come from anywhere.

#jojo thoughts #jjba #jojo's bizzare adventure #vento aureo #giorno giovanna #diavolo #vinegar doppio #not art #cw domistic violence #cw abuse #golden wind spoilers #cw physical abuse #analysis

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forbidden-sunlight · 3 months

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yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario: A Wendigo's Violent Love

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], violence, spoilers for episodes 7 and 8 in the first season of the 2024 show, possessive and obsessive behavior, Alastor is in denial, physical abuse, implication of friends to enemies.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your phone or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

Hey guys, welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fic! I know I had said that I was going to be on a break until the 8th or 14th in my last post, but I had gotten a burst of inspiration after watching the season finale and wrote this after discussing the idea with @riddle-simp and collaborated with @witch-of-the-writing-desk. It's because of these two that I managed to write 2k in a single day, so please give a big round of applause to these amazing individuals.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on in tonight's broadcast with Hell's one and only Radio Demon!

Part Two

Alastor could not believe what had happened on the rooftop. No, he refused to believe that he was nearly killed by a hair. To almost die for his friends, a fucking altruist of all things. Sorry to disappoint, but this is not how his story will end here. He thought viciously, tugging at his hair as memories rushed through his mind. He needed more. He needed his freedom. Yet this deal is restricting his powers from reaching their fullest potential, and it almost killed him. Yes, there has to be another way to get out of it. But more importantly….he needed to stop these feelings bubbling inside of him. These feelings he felt towards you.

You, a simple groundskeeper who had forgotten what it meant to be a human and served as a weapon in war. You, who did not use technology like him yet still found a way to connect with the rest of the hotel’s wayward souls.

He hates it and he wants you gone, out of sight and out of mind, because these feelings have put him in more danger than necessary. When he finds the backdoor of his deal, how to unclip his wings, he will be the one pulling all of the strings and claim the power that he rightfully deserves. He is the Radio Demon, the Great Alastor! Nothing else matters to him!

He made his decision right in the dilapidated radio station to never get attached to you or anyone else again. To only focus on himself and no one else. He is in Hell for a reason, after all. He cackled, feeling the thrum of his power rising in unison with his conviction. Yes. He thought. Yes, he’s Alastor! The cold, ruthless overlord who always has room for more voices on his broadcast. Not some soft-hearted twit who would die for someone!

But what he did not realize at the time, just right underneath the hatch, you had heard everything.

Despite your injuries and losing both of your arms to angelic steel, you had used your strength to trek through the debris and look for him. Now knowing that he despised you, knowing that he sees you as nothing more than a weapon to use for his convenience….well, you could not blame him. You were a weapon when you were alive. You were feared, you were hated, and you did not care at the time. So why did it hurt so much when he said that? You did not know, except it was better to keep your distance from him.

So you left the Radio Demon alone, staggering away to join the others.

Vaggie was somehow able to find Sir Pentious’ blueprints for your prosthetics in a fireproof trunk beneath the rubble, and put in a call to Carmilla Carmine to see if she could make them with angelic steel instead of adamantine. Of course, the angelic arms dealer took a look at them first before agreeing to it, but not before telling Vaggie she must ask for your consent to do the procedure and what you wanted to add or remove. You gave your input, and the procedure was scheduled for the following week. Although you could not help with the construction of the hotel, you did assist Charlie by putting together an eulogy and memorial service for Sir Pentious. The princess was not sure when it would be held, hopefully when the hotel was finished.

You understood, softly promising to be by her side for support, even if you had to be pushed in a wheelchair. Sir Pentious had been a good person, an inventor and a gentleman who was nothing but kind and respectful to you. Even though you offered to pay him for doing repairs on your arms in the past, he brushed it off and instead asked you to join him for tea. He…you hoped he found peace.

On the day of your procedure, you asked the overlord a question that had been plaguing your mind since the war. “Madam Carmilla, I am a weapon. I was raised to be one, to be used and tossed aside when my usefulness had expired. So…why is it that I am bothered by what Alastor said…on that day?” You did not dare to elaborate on what he exactly said to her, just that he said that he did not want to see you anymore. Be gone from his sight and mind.

She stared at you for a long moment before she replied coolly, “So I have heard from Vaggie. But I do not share her thoughts. A weapon is lifeless. You are a person. An emotionally stunted one, but someone is living, breathing, and who can still be hurt by what others say about them even if they can’t see it. You are upset because of what Alastor said….and in my humble opinion, whatever you feel towards him, discard it. There is nothing to gain by being close to him.” She then turned away, pulling on a pair of gloves over her hands as one of her daughters placed a mask over her face. “Are you ready to begin? This is your last chance, and I cannot promise it won’t hurt.”

“I am.” You said. “Thank you for answering my question.”

Carmilla nodded, and proceeded to give out instructions to you and the rest of the staff in the operating room. You complied, not wanting any more time to be wasted on your behalf. At least now you knew why you were upset. It was because you cared about Alastor. Cared….yes, that is the appropriate word. You had to distance yourself from him. It is what he wanted, so you must respect his decision as the manager of the Hazbin Hotel.

Yes, it is better this way.

That was the last thought that crossed your mind before a mask was placed over your face, and everything fell into darkness.

Alastor did not understand. You were doing what he wanted you to do. He did not want to see or talk to you unless it was necessary. So why was it making him angry? When he congratulated you on a successful recovery from your procedure, complimented your progress in physical therapy per Carmilla’s instructions, or how lovely the eulogy you wrote for Sir Pentious' memorial service, you showed no reaction. You simply stared at him with a hollow expression before thanking him, excusing yourself with a bow of your head.

He should be elated. No, he is pleased. He is satisfied that his relationship with you has not gone by being professional. Why, you even pull away as soon as he lays a finger on you~! So why does it bother him that you recoil from his touch? No. He…cannot accept it. He cannot accept this. He needed to speak to you. Discreetly.

However, now that this new and improved Hazbin Hotel stood in place of the old one, everything is much bigger with the additional square footage; meaning there would be more ground to cover if Alastor is to ever find you, even if you do not wish to see him.

Niffty, bless her little deranged mind, pointed him in the direction of the greenhouse. Of course, it was much bigger than the old one. But he still saw the old stained glass windows of the Moriningstar family crest lined up on the south side, allowing red light to come through and shine down on seedling trays with new shoots poking out of the inky soil. The clean, fragrant scent of herbs permeated the air as he walked through the rows of berries, juicy melons, and other culinary delights. He did not think this place would already be thriving when you were the only one who tended to it, as the hotel’s groundskeeper. However…this is you. You, who is able to accomplish anything once you put your mind to it.

He found you hiding just beyond the apple trees, kneeling beside a bush of glistening roses, armed with pruning shears and an apron over your clothes. A watering can sat on the grass by your side. Your back was facing him…which allowed him the element of surprise. Grinning, he leaned forward, stretching his gloved fingers to lightly caress the petals of the rose you were about to snip off.

“Oh, my apologies dear. My hand slipped!”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, emotionless [Eye Color] irises holding a steady gaze before turning away. “It’s all right. There are others that I can place at Sir Pentious’ memorial site.” You said, raising the shears to carefully cut another rose with a small snip. “Thank you for your concern.”

The static around him buzzed, swelling in synchronization with his boiling anger towards you. “I see.” He hissed. “I am terribly sorry to disturb you.”

“It is all right.” Snip. “If there is nothing else, please allow me to finish this so that I can go on break. Niffty will not be happy if I am not out of here within ten minutes.”

“I’m afraid we must discuss something, [First Name].” He pressed on, irritated at your uncharacteristic rudeness. “That is why I am here. So please turn around and look at me.”

You did. You placed the shears down, twisted your body around so that you looked at him straight in the eye. “Yes?” You said. “What do you need?”

He smiled, the static around him coming to a screeching halt and he was much calmer. Finally, He thought. You were looking at him, instead of avoiding his gaze. “I understand that since you have been cleared to return to work, you’ve been quite busy~! However! What I do not understand is why you have been ignoring me.” He leaned forward, feeling his eyes transform into radio dials. “You do not greet me as much as you have before, we haven’t had tea together, nor have we taken a stroll in Cannibal Colony~! So…why are you acting like I am a complete stranger to you?”

“Because I know the truth.”

Any and every thought he could have possibly said to her at this moment evaporated upon hearing your answer. “Pardon? I’m sorry but I didn’t catch that.” His voice leaked through the rising static. He felt his antlers grow, expanding past his ears with cr-crik, crick noises. Like the roots of a tree.

“I know the truth. I know that you are angry over what happened in the war, how everyone saw you flee from your battle against Adam. I know you wish to unclip your wings and that you utterly despise me. So I am doing what you wish for. To maintain a professional relationship as the groundskeeper and the manager of the Hazbin Hotel. Our goal is to redeem sinners. There’s nothing beyond business between us.” You said with a calm and expressionless composure. “I went there that day, to the radio station. I had gone there to look for you, to make sure you were all right when I heard your words. But know this,” A sudden sheen of ice glazed over your eyes. “If you bring harm to Charlie or anyone in this hotel, I will kill you where you stand.”

The last thread of patience in his psyche split in half. Before he could stop himself, Alastor pinned you against the ground, his hands on your shoulders and glaring at you, trying to intimate you with his true form, to scare you into silence as he had done with Husk…but you held your gaze.

“It’s terrible manners to eavesdrop on someone, my dear.”

“And it isn’t wise to attack someone when you are not even at your full strength.”

In a flash you immediately flipped him over, straddling his hips as you held down his wrists over his head with one hand. The other held a garden spade to his throat and he was burning. That was when he realized you weren’t wearing your gloves, thus the angelic steel is the reason why his skin is on fire.

“Calm yourself, Alastor.” You said. “There is no reason to be angry when I am doing what you want me to do. Nor to act as you are doing right now. I advise you to take slow, deep breaths and count to five backwards.”

“Release me.”

“Not until you have calmed down.” The way you replied so calmly, so…lifelessly, made Alastor angry. Angrier than he has felt in a long, long time. Not since his prey had escaped the forest and he did not get to eat them. Not since his mother died, leaving him alone in the world except for a drunken asshole who wasn’t worthy of being his father. Make these feelings stop NOW

“Come to my office in exactly twenty minutes for an evaluation about your conduct at work. Do not be late.”

That was the last thing he said to you before he sunk into the grass as an inky shadow, slithering back towards the greenhouse’s entrance towards his room. He couldn’t believe it. How could you have known everything? How could he not have sensed your presence? Was he that weak? No. No, he assumed he was alone and clearly he had not been. You were an anomaly. You were raised as a weapon; to spy, to kill, to search and destroy upon the command of your master.

So why does it still bother him? Why does his head feel like it is about to split in half as he goes over the conversation over and over in his mind? Why is his heart falling into the pit of his stomach at remembering your promise to kill him if he harmed anyone here in the hotel? Why does he have this urge to know how you truly feel towards him? Do you still care for him? Do you love him?

In twenty minutes, he needed to know the truth…or else he would go insane.

What Alastor did not realize though, as he holed up himself in his quarters until the allotted time to meet with you, Husk had seen the whole thing from the door.

He was going to drag you to lunch because Niffty had gotten pissed that you were skipping meals again…and thank fuck Alastor did not see him. Husk, the drunken gambler and former overlord, almost flew over to you with a worried look, grumbling under his breath. Once he saw that you were all right and did not have visible bruises or injuries courtesy of a certain someone, he grabbed you by the hand, leading out of the greenhouse. He was not going to let Alastor hurt you again.

He might be a dumbass, can’t fight worth shit…but you are important to him, and he’ll protect you even if it means putting himself in the line of fire again.

Taglist

@no1sillybilly

@faux-ecrivain

@faesdreaming

@sillypumpkins

@imperfectbloodmoon

@bones4thecats

@frompeach

@lunaramune

@sleepy-hutao

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@tired-of-life-86

@angelltheninth

@kanroji-san

@likesugarandcyanide

@yandere-dark-cupid

@trecllllllll

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@rebloglikeyouneedtoo

@oucx

@victheauthor

@navierkalani

@doc-tooth

@solandis-does-stuff

@anielly-2010

@theunknowntravel3r

@riddle-simp

@tonightwrites

@victoria1676

@likesugarandcyanide

@isuckatwritingsobenice

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #yandere x reader #forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #yandere #ns.fw #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #tw possessive behavior #cw possessiveness #hazbin hotel spoilers #violet evergarden!reader #character!reader

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pluralcultureis · 1 month

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//implied abuse ig plural culture is seeing a whip and being reminded of. things... pro tip: treating a child like some kind of animal that needs to be scared into submission isnt good parenting.

#endos dni #osdd #did #pdid #did system #pdid system #osddid #actually did #traumagenic #actually dissociative #plural culture is #tw abuse #cw abuse #tw child abuse #cw child abuse #tw physical abuse #cw physical abuse

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manicpixiedreamjop · 8 months

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oooohhhh 28 - "I know your friends" with either solittle or armitozer please! <333

(Putting this one under a cut bc it got a bit long!)

“What the fuck happened to you?”

It’s not as if Edward has any say in where Sol goes or what he does, as Sol had been kind enough to remind him on his way out the door earlier when Edward had asked where he was going (“None of your fuckin’ business Neddie, you’re not my boyfriend and you’re not my mum, so fuck off, yeah?”). He feels justified in asking now though, as Sol stumbles through the door just past one in the morning, lip split, brilliant black eye blooming on the right side of his face.

“Got in a fight, didn’t I?” says Sol, tugging open the fridge and leaning into it, pulling out a beer and immediately holding it up to the bruise on his eye. His eyes look slightly out of focus, and Edward doesn’t know if it’s from the injury or if he’s been drinking already too.

“With who?”

“Does it matter?”

“Your face is bleeding, Sol,” says Edward, shoving himself to his feet and walking across the kitchen towards him. “So yeah, I’d say it fucking matters.”

“A friend,” snaps Sol.

“What friend?”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know your friends.”

“Can we not with the third degree, right now?” asks Sol, and this time Edward is sure he’s drunk. Better that than concussed, he supposes. “My fuckin’ head is killing me.”

“Do you think it’s because you got punched in the face?” asks Edward, but he softens his voice, taking the beer out of Sol’s hand with one hand and turning his chin towards the light with the other. The bruise is nasty, but the cut on his lip isn’t as bad as it had looked when he’d walked in, only crusted with old blood, already mostly closed. “Come on, Sol,” he continues, even softer this time. “What’s going on with you?”

Sol lets out a long, slow breath through his nose, and finally looks at Edward properly, eyes big and far softer than Edward ever gets to see them when Sol’s sober. “Was seeing someone,” Sol says finally. “Didn’t work out.”

“They did—” Edward says, forcing himself to stay calm, to push down the anger rising in him, sure it’s the last thing Sol needs right now.

“I thought—” Sol starts, but he cuts himself off too, shrugging awkwardly. Edward realises all at once that his hand is still on Sol’s chin, but can’t bring himself to move it, especially not when Sol leans into the touch. “I don’t know what I thought,” he continues after a moment, and then, before Edward can say anything else, Sol leans forward and kisses him.

He tastes like blood and whiskey, his several days of stubble scratching against Edward’s chin, and Edward is already opening his mouth and leaning back into the kiss before he quite processes what he’s doing. Because they don’t do this, him and Sol. They’re flatmates, they’re old friends, and maybe they’ve gotten off together a few times when they were drunk, and maybe Edward fantasises about getting down on his knees and sucking Sol off every time Sol comes home from the gym all flushed and sweaty and grinning, but they don’t do this. Edward has never even dared allow himself to want this.

“Sol,” he says, pulling away, forcing himself not to react to the small, disappointed noise that Sol makes. “You’re drunk.”

“And?” asks Sol. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you. That I haven’t wanted you for… for fuckin’ ever.”

“You’re drunk,” Edward says again, as much to himself as to Sol. “And bleeding, and… Let’s just get you cleaned up, alright? We can talk about this in the morning.”

Sol stares at him a moment longer, eyes still wide, before his face hardens again and he steps back, holding the beer can back up to his eye.

“I can deal with it,” he says tersely. “I’ve had worse.” Edward doesn’t know if he’s still talking about the black eye or not.

“Sure,” says Edward, taking a step back as well. “Yeah. I’ll just… leave you to it then.”

“Cheers,” says Sol, and then he’s stepping away, out of Edward’s orbit, and down the hall towards the bathroom.

#cw physical abuse #(happens offscreen)#ANYWAYS THEN THEY WAKE UP IN THE MORNING AND NED MAKES SOL BREAKFAST AND THEY KISS ON THE MOUTH #SORRY I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE SOMETHING ANYWHERE BETWEEN STRAIGHT UP ANGST AND STRAIGHT UP FLUFF #solittle #trantors #thank u for the prompt kiss kiss i adore u #my writing #little #tozer

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necros-writing-stuff · 4 months

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sorry if you've answered this before, im fairly new to your blog so I haven't checked his tag to the beginning...

what would happen if dare is in a bad mood bc of whatever and he ends up snapping at his wife for smth that's not their fault at all? like if he gets snippy with them which turns into him yelling something mean, making his wife storm out crying... would he give them space? maybe go after them and apologize OR tell them to get over it maybe? im very curious as to how he would handle a sensitive partner who cant handle being yelled at

It doesn't matter in the moment if you can handle it or not to Dare - he'll snap all the same. And he will grab you by the back of your neck so you can't run away from him as he yells at you. Maybe slaps you, depending on if he really blames you for his anger.

He'll coddle you as soon as he's done, though. He'll find you in whichever corner of the house you've ran off too, scoop you up in his arms and kiss your cheeks while muttering about how he didn't mean to hurt you. He just needed you to listen and know that he's serious when he's trying to talk to you, yeah? Don't run away from him, listen to what he has to say.

He'll yell either way, but he might not hit you if you do as he says. And he doesn't apologise even when he knows he's in the wrong.

#spill your guts #anonymous #not dol #darius radner #gn reader #cw abuse #cw emotional abuse #cw physical abuse

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suchafuckingriot · 2 months

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Wilbur Soot as an abuser

cw, physical abuse, graphic descriptions of physical abuse

this analysis seeks to break down the supposed type of abuser wilbur is for the purpose of showing people what abusers can look like and why they do it the way they do. especially in this instance, where it can feel ambiguous or exaggerative to call that person an abuser when you’re in a relationship with them. WARNING: this post will be uncomfortable and sad to read. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

first and foremost, go watch shelby’s stream. she said exactly what she wanted to say and she said it very well, and i’m not going to synthesize it. additionally, the only reason i feel comfortable writing this in the first place is because i’ve experienced the exact same thing, bites and all. because of that fact, some of this information might be biased towards my own experiences, but know that this essay is not about wilbur as much as it is about this one type of abuser. this is not drama or gossip like usual, it is meant to be educational and give awareness to a covert type of abuse that is often hard to recognize, a type of abuse that i know and understand. it is also meant to explain why it happens, as i’ve seen a LOT of questions about “why biting?”. remember, wilbur is just our poster boy in this instance. you could swap his name out with any other, he’s just who sparked the discussion this time. anyways,

How it Starts

remember my post from a while ago about wilbur and manic pixie dream girls? (if someone could send it to me i’d like to reblog it) there is a simple process to wilbur’s attraction to women:

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it fails -> spiral into self loathing bender -> (“update me on your life and now you’ve found the one, but i don’t like his eyes…”)

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it works -> oh wait she’s not special to me anymore -> she’s supposed to be special -> but she’s special i cant not like her she’s such a catch -> she loves me and i hate her -> i’m in love with the fact that she loves me -> (“you’re just so painfully punctual, i’m starting to get bored”)

and here we get to what happened with shelby.

she was his childhood crush. she is also petite, beautiful, very cutesy, giggles, is very sweet, has a distinct personal style, is SHUBBLE. to name a few things. she is a perfect dream girl for wilbur to chase.

wilbur catches her -> he loses interest -> the ego boost and additional benefits from dating shelby is so great that he values her status as his girlfriend above her as a person -> she is still a person with relationship needs -> he lashes out at her in seemingly innocent ways in attempt to satisfy both his ego and the needs of a relationship. which brings us to

Biting/“Playful” Injury

love bites are a fairly common form of affection. the important distinction to make is that they are usually gentle, and done by someone because they know it’s silly. it’s a human thing to do. a very common question i’ve seen: why did he bite her?

because when you are in a relationship with someone you resent (as shelby said) and you get the inclination to physically harm them, you know you can’t. this is obviously bad, and wilbur knows it’s bad, so he picks something that can be turned into a joke. wilbur is a known biter. this gives him a justification that shelby will take and so will everyone else that sees it happen, especially since his mom backed it up.

the bites serve to

-allow him to hurt her without feeling guilty

-affirm his ego that she’ll stay with him even if he treats her poorly

-provide a visible marker to other people that she is “his”, further affirming his ego

the bites being in her skin allowed people to see them and she’d be forced to explain that he was the one that did it, he could show them off himself if they were together, they could be passed off as a silly joke, and he got the satisfaction of hurting her under a “safe” pretense. especially because he set up a safeword, he got to justify in his head that he was not a bad guy or abusive for doing this. the bites are a mark of possession, like a brand. it’s gratifying that he’s the only person that gets to do this to her.

there is also something… attractive? romantic? about how much someone will endure for you. this type of abuser loves to stress test how much you’ll take from them before breaking. they feel validated that you’re willing to do that for them, so even if he had to stop doing it on her arms and move to her legs instead, it was still gratifying that she would take it.

one question i saw a lot: is it a sex thing? not necessarily. it could be, but in this case and in my own experience i don’t think it is. i don’t think it sexually gratifies them, just fuels their ego.

i would also like to add, biting is not the only way this can happen. here are a few more examples of covert physical abuse, from my own experiences because that’s the best way to word them:

my ex would “crack my knuckles”, meaning bend my fingers a dangerous amount until they forcefully popped, framed as an inside joke

"playfully" shove me, making sure to do it hard enough that i was knocked into a wall and would hit my head

pinch bruises into my ribs so they would hurt when i laughed

back to shelby/wilbur, her story of him pinning her down and asking her to try to push him off, then gloating when she couldn’t

i just think it’s worth noting: shelby wanting to be a bunny on origins smp, then wilbur modifying her lore saying she was a bunny until he killed her because he was lonely and wanted another ghost around. that shit was not normal

i would also like to add, often the person being hurt in this scenario does express that they are being hurt, that they do not like it, and that they don’t want it to keep happening. the abuser will dismiss it because the ways they harm you are “a joke”, or they may set up a safe word or fake apology or negotiation in attempt to placate you. or they will guilt trip you. know that almost never are any remedies they try to provide you genuine. you will not fix your relationship. they do not care about you, they care that you satisfy their ego. they want to harm you, and they will not stop.

if you suspect you may be in this situation, get out of it. nobody deserves to be hurt by their own partner or be made to feel resented by their own partner. research all of the different types of abuse, and figure out the best solution for your situation. like shelby said, she was the one that broke up with him, which is the case for a lot of these scenarios. i pulled the trigger in my own relationship. it might be scary, or not feel right, but if you can come to the conclusion that your situation isn’t right, you can leave it too.

wishing everyone happiness, health, and healing,

-riot

(p.s. in the tags)

#ps. i shared my own experiences purely for educational purposes lol pls don’t come say sorry to me in my askbox #i understand the feeling so if you’d like to express support or empathy leave a heart or a rose emoji :)#i just don’t want the focus of this to be the implications of my own experiences #i want this to be a guide of warning signs and red flags #and an explanation for those that need it #cw abuse #cw physical abuse #also GO WATCH HER STREAM. she speaks about her experiences much better than this post does #watch her stream #x3

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