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symbioticsimplicity · 3 months

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I have a theory that someone else has probably already put out but I haven't seen it so here we go.

I don't think Alastor is actually all that powerful.

Propaganda under the cut.

There are a lot of things that make me think this but we'll start with the first and frankly most obvious to me.

His methodology. Alastor's main thing is making contracts and deals. When we're first introduced to him in the pilot, its with a warning to never make a deal with him. While plenty of other Overlords obviously wheel and deal, I think Alastor's are different. They're more binding and more dangerous because they're his modus operandi.

Another thing is his seeming lack of territory. Every Overlord has actual terf that we see them in, except for Alastor. This could be from lack of interest, or due to having been gone so long, or what have you but it seemed like a strange thing to have not mentioned. In addition, Carmilla, who was leading a meeting on the property and interests of all the represented Overlords and how to protect it, was utterly dismissive of his sudden return. Which to me implies that whatever he controls is likely minimal at best. Meaning him being there is pretty inconsequential to the larger picture. Dude was able to disappear for seven years and it was mostly fine? So what does he actually have?? (My only thought honestly is that maybe the air is his space since radio waves and all. That would honestly be broke as hell but there's no real evidence for this, is would just be really cool.) As much as Vox as making a dig at him, he did have a good point that the reach of radio has certainly died down over the years. While that alone doesn't mean Alastor's power has waned, its not really a *good* sign for him. He still has speakers all over but that and one really rundown store front with a single radio are really the only traces we see of him outside of the hotel.

This bit is conjecture, but when talking about his past, not only does no one ever mention HOW he killed so many powerful Overlords, they don't go into detail about much at all. There's every chance that he could have contracted them the same way he did with Husk and either forced or waited for them to break their end of their deals and THEN used them as fodder to terrorize the masses. Most of his power comes from fear and word of mouth. Most people don't even bother fucking with him because they've heard the stories, or the broadcast.

Which brings me to my next point: The Broadcasts. There are a LOT of ways that Alastor and Vox parallel each other and I can't help but wonder if using their medium to deceive people isn't one of them. So far a lot of the magic we see Alastor use is largely illusionary. Phantoms and shadows and temporary changes of environment. So what if his broadcasts are the same? What if he DOESN'T kill the Overlords he claims to have and instead used his broadcast to simulate it instead. Like War of the Worlds, but on purpose. Honestly it would be smart of him, especially if he's NOT as strong as he seems. This is also conjecture but if he made deals with those Overlords instead, he could still have them stashed away somewhere and just be calling on them and their power as needed. (Also: Husk. This man is a constant pain in the ass and usually disrespectful at best. The only time he pops off on him about it though is when Husk mentions his deal which is really just a big No-No. But he still only *threatens him* which to me implies that he actually does need him. If not for his services, even if only for the power granted by his contract. In the same way that Val doesn't actually kill Angel or anything because he can't REALLY afford to, so he controls him in other ways. If Al isn't this super strong demon, he can't really afford to just go wasting the contracts hes got due to momentary irritation when he can bring them back to heel with some light terror.)

The next thing that makes me think he's probably not super powerful is his fight with Adam. Not because he lost (I firmly believe he only actually lost because he was fucking around most of the time/ wasn't fighting for loved ones) but because of the form he took to do it. He was in a life or death fight with an ostensibly high ranking angel, and yet he didn't pull out anything more than he would have used to fight other sinners. Sure, that could be him being prideful, but I just don't think so. Home boy was being recorded and presumably knew that, if he was being prideful shouldn't he have gone balls to the wall??

In relation to that, he also made a deal himself. Not that we know what it was for or who its with, but would someone as control oriented as Alastor really make a deal if he didn't HAVE to? Overlords don't just DO that, there had to have been a compelling reason and honestly assuming Alastor isn't as strong as he makes himself out to be gives a very good opening for it.

Smaller detail, but it still matters, the smiling. He very clearly uses it as both a shield and a tool to help him maintain control of a situation. Thats not really the kind of thing you think of and commit to if you're the strongest person in the room. Covering up weaknesses obsessively is the sort of thing someone who's fronting does so their secret stays exactly that.

In the same vein, the way he reacted to Lucifer. He was threatened, which is understandable given that Luci is leagues above even the strongest Overlords, but I think it was slightly more than that. Having Lucifer around would make it drastically obvious very quickly that Al isn't as strong as he claims. So of course he tries to unbalance the situation and put focus somewhere else, the same as he always does. (Its actually the same thing he does in his duet with Vox. I'm almost certain Vox IS actually stronger than Alastor but hes so wrapped up in Al's head games he might never notice.)

It's honestly unclear if this has always been the case with him, or if its a result of his deal or his time away or something else entirely, but to me it seems incredibly likely. Alastor mostly keeps order and power through fear, not through enormous shows of power. And even those when he does them are strategic and mostly against opponents he knows are weaker than him. He's clever as all fuck, and still very dangerous for it but I don't think hes actually all that physically powerful.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #the radio demon #i love him I really do but this has been bothering me since the pilot #hes a mover and a shaker and I'm pretty sure hes hustling all of hell #which is frankly fucking impressive #what i wouldn't give for his backstory to show his daddy being a conman #mama is respectable but black in 1920 something #and daddy is a pos conman #alastor the gentleman con artist just FEELS right #especially ESPECIALLY if he was a white passing mixed race man #like actually that would be amazing #and then he just kept up old habits when he died and learned he could FINALLY have the power he never had in life #except its still all a lie #I'd be fucking foaming at the mouth I'm telling you #also i didn't mention this but hommie is a fucking DEER #hes a PREY ANIMAL #that alone seems pRETTY FUCKING TELLING

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nellarw95 · 2 months

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Happy Birthday Ewan 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

March 31,1971

Buon Compleanno 🥳🎂🎈🎁🎉

31 Marzo 1971

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mcrololo · 2 months

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what's your opinion on birds?

LOVE them. Adore them even. Watching the birds eat and chill in our backyard peacefully... well, I finally understand my grandparents. I especially appreciate it when the tiny ones wash themselves, weirdly enough, in the bits of sand. And there's now a nest of collared doves (I suspect at least) in one of our trees, since I see either one or both on either side of the fences in our yard. I love this dove the most because we call them lovebirds in our language, so to have them sit in our garden feels like a tiny blessing from nature!

I could go on and on... my birthname for example being a bird; how fascinating the predator birds are in flight; the freedom they represent while airborn. My best friend who unfortunately passed 10 years ago used to volunteer for animal rescue and she occasionally raised pigeons by hand. Tiny little ugly baby birds to adult. So now whenever I see pigeons, I carry her wherever I go.

Birds are magnificent! Chef's kiss to mother earth for their creation.

#i'm too afraid to actually make our yard more bird friendly...#while our cats stay indoors our neighbor's don't #and there's a lot of other cats roaming around too. i don't want to trap the poor creatures here while they fall prey #and regarding my name; it's why i'll never fully hate my birthname. an older gentleman who was a writer once complimented me on it #and well. what's a bigger mundane compliment from a writer than on your given name?#anyway!! i've rambled enough. thank you for indulging me friend!!#answered #jopilatje

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mis3rabl3m3lody · 2 years

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How did Layton and Sofiya meet each other? ^^

💕💘💕OOOH OKAY SO, basically Hershel gets called for help by a pastor of a small, heavily religious town in England called Straub Lane, as there were reports of a werewolf roaming the streets at night and allegedly attacking any residents who dared to cross its path.

So he goes there to figure out who this werewolf could be, and during the investigation he meets Sofiya Nightingale, who works as a secretary of Straub Lane's local church ministry. Hershel, of course, asks her if she has any information about this mysterious werewolf, and she tells him of a "story" she's heard about a young woman from many centuries ago who was born with an extraordinary power whom many believed to be a curse, "The Curse of the Wolf" they called it. This power allowed her to transform into a wolf based on her level of heightened emotions; whether it be excitement, rage, or lust. This power was not easy to control, however, and the girl's emotions would often get out of control which then leads to the Wolf destroying property and attacking citizens. She was considered a monster amongst her peers and was later put to death after giving birth to a child.

Sofiya explains that once a child is born from someone with "The Curse of the Wolf", that "curse" will be passed onto them, and so history will repeat itself. She also adds that she speculates the reason for the Wolf of Straub Lane to only attack at night to be, that it's much more efficient to only conceal yourself in plain sight, than it is to spend every waking hour trying desperately to conform when there's nobody around to notice.

After getting to know Ms. Nightingale a little more and noticing her peculiarly nervous body language when she speaks to him(especially when she had abruptly bid him 'good day' and left in a hurry, as she had to take care of some "urgent matters", as she put it), it finally clicked. Hershel finally knew who the Wolf of Straub Lane was, but he felt...almost guilty, knowing he was going to have to inform the pastor and the rest of the town about his discovery. Hershel thought about how devastated, and maybe even angry Ms. Nightingale would feel after he reveals her identity to her peers. He almost felt like a fool to admit this, but... even in the short time they've known each other, he felt himself growing quite attached to the soft spoken young lady, which is why it pained him to do this.

The time had come when Hershel finally reveals in his iconic dramatic fashion, the identity of the Wolf of Straub Lane. A part of Sofiya had already saw this coming; she had a sneaking suspicion when she was conversing with him the other day that the Professor had already figured out her secret. In fact, ever since they first met, the image of the Professor had never left her mind; everything about him was so...enticing. It was the reason why she hastily left early during their last meeting.

So hearing him reveal her biggest secret she had kept hidden for so long to everyone in town, felt like some sort of betrayal. Her vision started getting blurry but she could hear the townspeople yelling and cursing her name, with the Professor and a few officers trying to calm them down and reason with them. But she could barely focus on their words due to all the extreme emotions she was feeling, feelings that she had been forced to suppress for God knows how long. She felt... angry. Furious, even. She felt distraught, anxious... trapped. She felt like the whole world was against her, like she'll never be able to live her life and be at peace. She just couldn't handle living this way anymore, and now everyone was going to turn their backs on her with disdain for the rest of her life; all because he had to show up. This was it, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

And just like that, The Wolf was unleashed. Everyone ran for their lives except for Hershel, who was frozen in place. Perfect, the Wolf thought, he was the one she wanted, after all. She darted after the Professor with a growl, who immediately snapped back to his senses in time to dodge the Wolf's attack. The next few minutes was spent with Hershel retaliating against Sofiya's attempts to slice him into ribbons while desperately trying to reason with her and calm her down. It seriously hurt the poor man having to do this, and he knew it was hurting her just as much, if not more.

Eventually, Hershel gets through to Sofiya, who breaks down sobbing before him, choked apologies escaping her furry lips. Hershel slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her trembling body, whispering words of comfort and reassurance in her ear in an attempt to stabilize the Wolf. And miraculously, it works! The Professor's soothing voice helps calm her soul she feels her anger deteriorate and soon enough, her Wolf form fades away and her human form is back. Hershel reassures Sofiya that she is not, never was, and never will be a monster, not in his eyes.

#sorry this was way longer than i intended it to be dbrbrhrhge #but i want to try and make a full fanfic about sofiya's story and her meeting with hershel #and this was good practice i guess so thmks so much for the ask!!👍💕💕#a gentleman full of love🤎🧩 hershel layton #the wolf of straub lane🐺✝️ sofiya nightingale #the wolf and her prey🐺❤🎩 hershel x sofiya #self ship asks

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kelpiemomma · 2 years

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Friendly reminder that horses aren't dogs :) for instance, you can try to physically stop a panicking dog and get somewhere. If you try to physically stop a panicking horse you also get somewhere, but that somewhere is probably the hospital!

#Kelp tracks #Judging tonight was Eventful!#One rider's tack broke and their horse was in a full panic with a saddle under its belly #Slammed an older gentleman (judge) into the fence when it realized it couldn't get thru the open gate #(two horses standing in front of it) (the judge tried to avoid it but as I said. Older gentleman.)#He was able to sit up but he said he had an old spine injury and couldn't stand. Currently in the hospital.#Rider and horse were both thankfully unharmed. I was afraid the horse would get a leg caught in the saddle and #Break a leg or its neck. Worst case scenario. But all will be well (hopefully)#And unfortunately that's not really something you can train your horse for. Freak accidents happen and horses are still prey animals #Which is why I'm intentionally throwing stuff onto and off of malik's back because he's already super reactive!#I do NOT want to fall off and get a leg caught in my stirrup and have him drag me #Genuinely one of my nightmare scenarios #Anyway I need to take my contacts out and sleep so I can try to actually get breakfast tomorrow am #Byyeeee 👋🏻

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adnauseum11 · 9 days

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youtube

#the devil is a gentleman #merci raines #you ain't nothing but his prey #Youtube

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ridingthatd · 5 months

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𝄞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤

`• sukunaxfem!reader, nanamixfem!reader, gojoxfem!reader, getoxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, bdsm, multiple orgasm, over simulation, brain fucked, kinky, filthy •`

𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧. sukuna wasn't someone you can mess with easily. he wasn't amused by anything. the only thing that he was obsessed with were his weapons. his guns. his bullets. his bombs. his knifes. but his other obsession happens to be you. he was so fucked up. he was into a lot of fucked up shit. using the handle of his knife to fuck your ass. while he pound his fat cock into your tight cunt. he would go to as much as slicing his palm with the knife that was up your tight little hole. just to grab it and push it deeper inside of you. not caring about the blood that was dripping down his hand. spreading your ass cheeks with his bloody hands. while shoving his pierced tongue deep inside your throat. mixing his spit with yours. after all he was a maniac.

a maniac for you.

𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨. nanami was the type of guy. who would give of gentleman vibes. when you first meet him. he doesn't speak much. only grunts and nodes. but his actions spoke a lot. gently holding your cold hand into his rough huge ones. carrying you in his masculine arms. that were coated with tattoos. you would never tell how rough nanami was while fucking you. placing you on his face. sitting directly on his big nose. making you ride it. while roughly slapping your ass. abusing it till it's barely recognizable. and he wont let you stop. slamming you into his big nose. till your liquid is gushing all over his face.

nanami didn't speak a lot. but he touched a lot.

𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮. gojo didn't give a fuck. he didn't care about people's eyes. he didn't care about what people thought. because he knew they were under his feets. he didn't care about fucking you in public. having you sit on his lap with your tiny little skirt on at the club. just to unzip his pants. and grab his ragging tattooed cock. yes he had a tattoo on his long cock. it was the a symbol of your name. and his. he would shove it up your already drenched cunt. that was already filled with his cum. that he fucked into you in the car on the way here. bouncing you on his cock. not caring that everyone knows. sneaking his hand under your bra. just to grope your tits. pinching your nipples between his fingers. over simulating you. till you make a mess all over his suit pants. all over the seats you sat on. all over his cock.

and he was also a mess for you.

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮. geto was a soft men. an emotional men. that wasn't ashamed of showing his emotions. whenever he's sad or anxious. he would cuddle you all day. slowly slipping his cock inside of you. not moving. just keeping it warm. while you sleep together. pushing your shirt over your head just to suckle on your lips while he keep his cock warm inside of you. but he also got another mood. whenever he's angry. he would fuck you. till you're crying. pushing you hard against the showers wall. just to shove his angry pierced tip inside of you. not caring if you had time to adjust. tearing his cock through your pussy. just to slip out. and have you on your knees. taking him deep down your throat. feeling his pierced tip. hit the back of your throat. he liked it this way.

and he liked you this way.

and this how you got here. chained up their meeting desk. both of yours legs forcibly spread apart by a chain. just like your hands. you were completely naked under their gaze. they were eyeing you just like a prey.

two small nipple clumps sucker were placed on your breast. pumping on your red sensitive nipples. it was to much. to much. it's like your nipples were being sucked by an inhuman force. they for sure put the pumpers on full speed.

you can hear wet sloppy sounds. sounds from them stroking their fat cocks at the sight of you. it made you even more horny. knowing they're standing their. cocks out. pumping it with their huge vieny hands just like the pumper is pumping your nipples.

you sway your hips, trying to get away from the cold metal that was being slowly shoved up your ass. whimpering, throat dry from how much you have been screaming.

"shh it's okay you filthy slut, you're going to like what daddy is about to feed your tight little ass" sukuna coo at you. in awe at the way your tight ass eagerly sucked in the cold plug that he gave you. his cock was so fucking hard. pants down- still in his suit. but his cock was out, hitting his abdomen. leaking on his abs.

you twitch taking it all in, you can feel inside it your tummy- so filled. and what had you in tears was that they didn't touch your pussy. they're tutoring you. simulating everything but your pussy. letting the cold air hit your wet cunt, but not filling it with their cocks that you were so desperate for. no. they were just stroking them in front of your body- your face.

sukuna place another cold metal. and another and another one follows. your eyes widen as your realise it was bullets- he was shoving bullets up your ass without mercy. your eyes roll back as hot arousal drips down your pussy. your empty pussy.

your eyes catch nanami. as he makes his way toward your face. you stick your tongue out. droll spilling down yours red puffy lips. that had nanami groaning. his hair messly place on his heated face. precum leaking down his pinkish red huge tip. tripped blondish hair was placed on his heavy balls.

"how can I deny my little baby?" nanami horsely mutters. as he shove his fat cock inside your mouth. hitting the back of your throat without any warning. his eyes rolling back at the squishy feeling of the your throat. he doesn't give you time to adjust either once he pull out and plugs his cock bain in. in full force. your chocking sounds full the room. as nanami grabs your hair, pushing your face harder into his fat cock. your lips brushing against his balls.

groans soon after fill the air. as the other three of his friends. place their cocks on your warm skin. sliding their wet cock on your warm skin. your body trembles. as you feel nanami whimpering before he spurt his boiling seeds deep down your throat. you felt like it will come out of your nose.

his friends soon follow, spilling hot shoots of their cum on your body. not finishing. till it was painted with their cum. you cry out as you squirt out finally after an hour of simulation. your body arch. the pumper is still sucking on your nipples. making your orgasm even harder. seeing black and white spots.

you didn't fully recover. but they didn't care. because you feel sukuna grabbing his huge cock that had a straight line of cold piercings starting from the tip of his shift. and ending at his heavy balls. the feeling of having his piercings caresses the tight walls of your pussy. you want it do bad.

"please- daddy please please" you whine. begging him to fuck you. begging to tear your desperate pussy. to feed it his fat cock.

"tch, someone need to plug her throat again. she's being a whiney bitch" he tsks at you. grinning from ear to ear. at your pathetic little state. before he shoves his pierced cock inside of you. hitting your womb directly. and you completely black out.

your eyes flutter open. pussy stuffed. it was teared. ripped with two fat cocks that were maniacally going in-out of your wet cunt. your ears were filled with squashy sounds that your pussy made. while your mouth was behind abused by also two cocks. reaching the back of your throat. rubbing on your tongue before fully going back in.

"looks like our sweet slut is finally awake" geto moans out as you feel the piercing that was on the tip of his cock, hit your throat. your eyes roll back making eyes contact with gojo. gojo who had his cock shoved deep your throat, next to his friends. his own cock rubbing against getos cock. mixing their precum together.

you glance down at your nipples. feeling a familiar tingly feeling. just to see them still being pumped.

even though your cunt was scratched out to the max with nanamis and sukunas cock. you still were sucking their cocks in. holding their cocks so tightly. it had them going animalistic. huffing and groaning. drooling into your skin.

the only thing that filled their mind. was the need to breed you. fill you so full of their seeds. "you fucking filthy." shove. "little". shove. " whore". shove.

sukuna growls out. going crazy. so drunk on your pussy that he completely lost his sense. he doesn't care if he dies like this. he doesn't care if he kills you like this. all he wants right now is to gush his hot cum inside your gready little pussy.

the harshness of sukunas cock also made nanami go crazy. with the way his fat cock was rubbing against his cock. it created to much simulation. your tight pussy sucked them together. he wanted to whine.he wanted to whimper. but he bit into your thighs instead. tasting your blood against his tongue from how hard his bite was.

"em going to fucking cum" gojo moans out. his hips were shaking. you can feel his cock twitching against your throat. tip leaking ready to spill. but nanami does it before him. a loud whimper left him as he pumps his fat cock one last time inside you before he gushing his white liquid out. your eyes crossed. enjoying the feeling of his cum. filling your tummy.

geto soon follows him. coating gojos cock that was next to his with cum. you didn't even realise you were drooling till now. as your spit hit gojos tattooed balls. and that seems to do it for him. because you feel another shoot of cum being gushed down your throat. feeling sweat salty taste of it.

your eyes cross as you feel nanami long fingers stroke your red puffy clit. throwing you to the edge as sukuna keep hitting your womb with his pierced cock. you body had never felt pleasure like this before. you scream, your cunt making an embarrassing loud wet sound before you squirt all your liquid out. the bullets that sukuna shoved up your tight ass, slipping out one by one in the process.

feeling your orgasm mixed with your pee being sprayed on sukunas abs seem to finally trigger him. causing him to let out the tiniest whine before he pulls his cock out and gush his white cum on your stomach. the same stomach he promise to put a baby in.

"I think I'm about to cum again" gojo groans out.

: ̗̀➛ for part 1 click 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

: ̗̀➛ for part 3 click 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

tag list: @miyaluvvsyou @gumitoru @lilharuchiiii-slit @evilbunny22 @silbersee @awhoreforfictionmen @d1cklethep1ckle @ivy-vivii @chxrryvibes @mysticprincessdonut @i88b0nten @man-eaterfr @apwing @callmekimjennie @sheeesh-life-sucks @kariatenoh @ebonysdark @marusatonanhin @suukunnnaaa @jadedsgsg @creolequeen11210 @charisthemaniac @lemonintrovert01 @rosemaydone321 @deadlikestorm

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etfrin · 6 months

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⤷❝Dimwits and Stupid Dolls | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, dom sub undertones, pussy slapping, degradation, ownership kink, dubcon if you squint (not really coz reader loves it), overstimulation, masterbation (f. receiving), voyeurism if you squint, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), mentions of torture and killing | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: He's tired of stupid people and then he sees you fucking yourself stupid on your fingers instead of waiting for your husband to fuck you as you deserve, of course he has to punish you

⇢☾A/N: this was inspired by that one ask of what happens when Coryo sees reader touching herself and by the fact I want to be absolutely railed by Snow when he's angry

< m. list > < arranged marriage m.list > < bc: @cafekitsune > < tag list >

Coriolanus Snow prided himself on his perfection, his wit, the power he had, and the utter self-control he had established with time. But, the lord often gives his hardest battles to his toughest soldiers, and Coryo was no exception to that matter. His toughest battles came in the form of dimwits he had to deal with during work.

He wanted to shoot them all, melt their brains, perhaps even throw them into the games. He was seething by the time he had entered the manor. He hastily goes to his study, wondering if finishing the paperwork would make him feel better. It didn't. Of course, it fucking didn't.

He wanted to go to you, hear your laugh, have your arms around him, feel your lips against his. But a gentleman wouldn't show himself like this. His mind buzzed with hot red, his eyes in a glare he couldn't control.

It didn't even take him a second to change his mind when he saw you through the monitor of one of the cameras he had placed everywhere in the mansion. ‘Fuck it,’ he thinks as he sees you fucking your pussy with your fingers. Three fingers in, your hips bucking up to ride your digits. Your wrist was on your mouth, it was clear you were biting the flesh to stop whatever sound that was coming out, your eyes closed shut as your fingers continued to breach the entrance of your (his) pussy.

So not only he had to deal with dimwits all day, his slut of a wife couldn't even wait for him to fuck her into the mattress, you had to resort to your fingers instead of having patience. Coriolanus felt his pants tighten and his jaw clenched. He may not be able to kill those men, but a whore like you could certainly be punished for playing with what's his.

He went to the master bedroom, everyone averting his presence, knowing that they would be prey if they didn't. When he enters, you don't even realize his presence, too fucked with your fingers abusing your swollen clit. Your mess was all over the sheets. How many times have you cum like this? And yet you weren't satisfied. He's married to a slut indeed.

He walks up to the bed, in quiet steps so you don't become aware of his presence. Quickly enough, he got rid of his pants and boxers, not bothering with his shirt and vest. A gentleman would have taken everything, but you proved wrong to be worthy of that treatment right now.

Soon enough, he made aware of his presence by holding the wrist of the hand you were fucking yourself onto. You open your eyes, surprised by the touch. A whimper slips out of your mouth, the sound muffled as your lips are covered by your opposite hand. Your pussy squeezed your fingers, as you notice Coriolanus. His blue eyes were mad, feral even, his face a bit red but his lips had a smirk which indicated that he was going to enjoy this.

“Dolls should be played with,” he whispered, “but they shouldn't play with themselves, isn't that right, Dove? A good doll should wait for its owner to play.” You hastily remove the hand that was covering your sounds. “Coryo,” you whispered, your words broken with need.

“Wanted you so bad,” you said, “You were busy and… I missed you.” He felt guilt sprout in his mind, indeed with the games coming up, he hadn't spent much time with you. But both of you knew if you demanded it, he would have given his attention to you, even if it was only a minute he could spare.

“That doesn't excuse your action, pet,” he said, his hand pulling at your wrist making your fingers pop out of your slick cunt. “You were playing with what's mine. Fucking mine. Deal with the consequences.” He cups your pussy with his palm like it's the most precious thing, covering his hand in your juices. You closed your eyes, preparing for what was to come, your nerves at its most peak with sensitivity and anticipation. Smack, smack, smack.

You cried out of pain but mostly pleasure, a dizzying pleasure that filled your veins from the slaps Coryo was delivering onto your soaking wet cunt. Each slap was done with precision, the pleasure just high enough to gloss over the pain. The stings of the slaps make tears fall on your face. All the while he watches, he watches the way his hand hits your core, and the sheets get soaked with your essence. He watches as your body heats up more and more, your jaw slacked as you moan and whine, your eyes glazed but filled with love for him anyway.

Who knows how long after was he satisfied? Was it when you ended up sobbing into his chest, begging him to stop, that your pussy can't take it anymore, that it aches and you want to cum, cum, cum? You're so close and it's not enough, each slap hitting your clit perfectly, making your slit clench around nothing and gush more of your juices out. But he was satisfied as you sobbed and pleaded for him, his cock, and his forgiveness of your sins, that he had stopped his punishment for touching what's his. He tilts your head up and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“That's my girl. How many times did you cum before I caught you, dove?” You hesitate to answer but whisper, “Fo-four, Coryo. But it wasn't enough. I need you. I need you, goddamn it. My love, my Coryo.”

A filthy rough kiss was all you received in answer, his fingers sliding inside your gummy walls. “Eight times should it then,” he smirks against your lips. You can't even begin to fathom what would happen later. Not when his fingers curve up just right against your g-spot, making you spasm around his fingers.

The first orgasm by him for the night.

“Fucking take it,” he whispered against your ear, his teeth biting your ear lobe, his hot breath against your sweaty skin. He grunts, “You do it, my doll,” as he fucks into you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders as his balls slapped your ass with every thrust. Skin meeting skin and the sound of it much louder than your moans. You were by your seventh orgasm by now, the bed sheets soaked below his cum and yours.

Every time you begged that you can't, he fucked into you harder and faster. “I can't- not anymore- I swear Coryo-” you whimper. His response is shutting you by biting your lower lip hard enough that you bleed and he sucks it all up. He groans into your mouth as he tastes it on his tongue. Everything else is ignored, and no encouragement is given. This was your punishment.

Fucking take it.

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jack-the-nibbler · 1 year

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Currently having the urge to eat up a handsome gentleman...and also to be eaten up by one. Maybe both at the same time.

#vore talk #vore rambles #vore rambling #safe vore #soft vore #nonfatal vore #gentleman pred #gentleman prey #voreception

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sillyromance · 8 months

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Good day everyone!

Sometimes I just wanna see a pred who would be a half-giant old-stylish englishman from the end of the 19th century. The one who is perfectly dressed as a dandy, who seems to be arrogant, emotionally distant at the first glance, but has a heart of gold; who is a real gentleman, kind, but strong.

........

You come in the room where he's working. A lantern is shedding soft yellow light on his massive figure; papers are lying all around the table, two or three books are open and burried under the mess, an ink pen in his hand is drawing beautiful, curly letters on a somewhat document. He doesn't see you at first, but then he lifts his head and looks at you, slight smile playing on his lips."What's happened, dear?" - he asks. You smile back, but say nothing - just come closer and put your arms on his knee, sadly starring right in his warm eyes. He understands now; one quiet sigh escapes his chest. The man's big hands pick you up and guide you right to his face. He lovingly strokes your hair, gazing at you with mix of deep concern and adoration; then he confidently opens his mouth and put your head right in. You shiver as your cheeks touch the hot, slimy, pink toungle which starts eagerly, but carefully savoring your sour-sweet flavour. He is politely silent, although you don't need to hear anything from him to know that he enjoys every second as much as you do. However, he won't taste you for long - he knows what you are waiting for. The man slowly pushes you at the edge of his throat and swallows hard, titling his head just a bit, letting you slip deeper and deeper into his body's firm embrace with continuing tense gulps.

........

It's over. Exhausted, the man leans back and pat his belly, breathing heavily, still easily recalling the sensation of you jostling through his chest. He feels you actively moving around in his growling abdomen in attempt to get comfortable, beneath the layers of skin, silk and tweed; you're not big enough to stretch his stomach to the painful condition, his clothes don't rip off and all the buttons stay on their places. But he is definitely full - and he sits for some minutes, lying on the back of his chair, rubbing his middle, licking his teeth and enjoying the sensation of you leaning against his insides. Although, it's not only about him, but you as well; fondling his stomach, he fondles your tiny figure, curled up in the bed of plushie muscles which pulse tenderly, lulling you to sleep...

........

Soon he returns to his business; perhaps, he will go outside to meet some of his work companions - or just for a walk. There is a cold, drizzly evening: grey sky, grey streets, black people and animals, deem orange glowing from the windows; far-away bell of Big Ben. Grumpy pedestrians hide their noses in scarfs. Some stop and desperately look around, hoping for a cab. But your gentleman doesn't tremble of freezing air in the twilights; something more than a coat warms him up. It's your living heat, radiating all over his body. While in his thoughts, the pred unconsciously listens to your steady heartbeat and snoring within him - and he just feels good that you're with him, that you love him; that your trust in him is so unspeakably high. He stops and watches as boats scurry about Thames, sometimes secretly holding his middle when you accidentally kick too sharply - but this squirming doesn't annoy him; it brings happiness to his soul.

........

As far as he gets bored, the man returns home. Woods, lightened up by a thoughtful maid, peacefully crackle in the fireplace; the man thanks her, chooses a book in the library and sits down in his favourite armchair. There is a pleasant tiredness in his body, combined with equally pleasant weight on his waist. It ticklishly shifts from time to time, making the man flutter. He keeps a hand on a small bulge, caressing his "tiny treasure", and chuckles when you rub him back, making his stomach loudly announce of its satisfaction.

What can be better?..

P. S: Doctor Watson. Don't ask why.

#safe vore #soft vore #extreme cuddling #gentleman vore #willing prey #willing pred #size difference

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losersiren · 30 days

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𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

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altruisticalastor · 3 months

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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Three

☒ Summary: Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken. You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement.

☒ Warnings: wife!reader, she/her pronouns used, angst with slight comfort, strong hints of vox being in love with the reader, vox kisses reader on the forehead, alastor and the reader actually kiss and hug, lucifer is silly in this, jealous!alastor, reader expierencing a lot of conflicting emotions, lots of inner turmoil

☒ Word Count: 2,166

The ride back to Vox Tec Headquarters was quiet. However, Vox held onto you tightly the whole ride home.

Home? Is that what you consider this godforsaken place now?

You lost your way, and seeing your husband tonight after several years reminded you of what once was your home.

"Who" your home was; Alastor.

But that resentment you had for him still lingered in your heart.

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't gotten accustomed to Vox's company. Even now, he helped you out of the car. Holding your hand tightly all the way up to your bedroom. Vox was a gentleman when it came to you. He respected your privacy, turning his back while you changed into something more comfortable. But he was also possessive, and that struck fear within you.

He was soft-spoken while he tucked you into your bed. The same bed that Vox picked out specifically for you. He knew what colors, what patterns, and what textures you liked. Taking it all into account when he bought you your blankets and clothing and accessories.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Vox cooed, rubbing your arm softly. He sat at the side of your bed, eyes locked with yours. You tensed from his touch. The conflict between appreciating his gentle caress and knowing it was wrong to feel that way made guilt pool in your gut.

"I'm fine," You lied, averting your gaze from his. Vox's touch trailed lower, giving your hand a firm squeeze before he stood. "It's been a long day for you. Try to get some rest." He spoke calmly. Turning his back toward you before making his way to your bedroom door.

"V-Vox," You called out, stopping him in his tracks before he could take his leave. "Yes, sweetheart?" He turned to face you, offering you a welcoming smile. You balled the duvet up in your hand. The same one the man standing before you hand-picked for you. "Thank you for respecting my wishes today." You whispered before turning on your side. Not wanting to see Vox's expression to your earnest words.

The room was silent for a few beats. Making you feel as though Vox was seeing right through your lies. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you squeezed your eyes shut. Hoping that he would either reply or take his leave already. Your train of thought was cut off when you felt a set of lips press against your forehead. Vox's lips.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Before you could process the kiss Vox gave you, he was gone. You turned around the moment your bedroom door closed shut.

Fuck. You were in deep shit.

Vox was getting too attached to you. You should have noticed it sooner when he began treating you with more consideration than anyone else. But you assumed it was all an act. You were sorely mistaken.

You hoped that Alastor had a plan to get you out of this arrangement.

Alastor paced around his suite, wracking his brain on how to free you of your contract. Being on a leash himself kept him constricted in some ways, but there had to be a loophole. The Radio Demon tried to keep his composure, but knowing that his beloved wife had been confined by Vox, of all people, was unacceptable.

He never thought you would fall prey to someone as pitiful as Vox. But Alastor also knew that his vanishing without a word didn’t leave you with many options. He ached for you, truly. The Radio Demon loved you with everything he had. Even the parts of himself that never saw the light of day. Alastor’s deepest thoughts and emotions were all reserved for you.

“Hey Alastor, you in here?” The door swung open quicker than The Radio Demon could see. Alastor quickly straightened upright, clearing his throat before addressing The Princess of Hell. Who just so happened to barge into his room. “What is it?” Alastor beamed painfully wide as his patience wore thinner by the second. He didn’t have time for Hotel duties at the moment. You were his top priority.

“Sorry to barge in, but... my dad is here! Just wanted to keep you in the loop!” Charlie exited without another word. She sensed an air of malice and wanted no part of it. Alastor was a feared overlord, and she retained a handful of horror stories about The Radio Demon himself.

A lightbulb went off in his head. This was perfect- Lucifer was the answer to breaking your contract with Vox. All he would have to do was get on The King of Hell’s good side. Alastor let his shadows carry him to the foyer, being met by the sight of none other than Lucifer himself. “Uh, Charlie! Who is this?” The short man shot Alastor a pointed look. “Alastor! It’s a pleasure, quite a pleasure indeed!” The Radio Demon shook Lucifer’s hand firmly. Biting back the insults he wanted to utter due to The King of Hell’s stature. Opting to play nice for the sake of your soul.

“Yeah, uh- good to meet you. Anyway, Charlie mentioned something about a tour, so we must be going!” Lucifer’s tone was passive and short. Alastor knew it would take a bit more false kindness to get on his good side. “Oh, allow me! I am the executive producer of this lovely hotel, after all!” Charlie smiled widely, finding it flattering that Alastor cared enough about the hotel to offer his services. Little did she know that he had ulterior motives. “Aww, that’s a great idea! Thank you, Alastor. I’ll leave you both to it!”

Lucifer stuttered as he tried to find the words to protest. But it was too late. Charlie was already enamored in a conversation with Vaggie. “Come along!” Alastor’s smile grew wide as Lucifer treaded behind him. The moment they reached the second floor, Alastor spun around. Meeting Lucifer at eye level. “Let me cut to the chase! I have a favor to ask of you, Luci!” The Radio Demon quipped. “I knew there was something off about you. Well, cmon spit it out. I came here for my daughter! I don't wish to waste my precious time with common demons such as yourself.”

Alastor contemplated biting his tongue off at that moment because the words that threatened to tumble out of his mouth were way beyond foul. But instead, he took a breath, reminding himself of the greater good. “I’m glad you mentioned your darling daughter, Charlie! You see, she and I made a little deal of sorts! I would be willing to forfeit our contract in exchange for another contract being terminated!” The Radio Demon was bluffing, but he was sure the fool would buy it. Lucifer’s chest puffed up in defense. Alastor could see the wheels turning in his head as The King of Hell contemplated the trade. “Lemme guess, you got yourself in a bad contract and need some help getting out of it?” Alastor’s laughter filled the hallway from the remark. Not even Lucifer himself could get Alastor out of his deal, but that was beside the point.

“Oh heavens, no! This is about my wife. She sold her soul to one of the Vees. I need that deal to be reversed! So, do we have a deal?” Alastor outstretched his hand. Hoping that Lucifer would shake it without further delay. “The who now? The Bees? Fine, fine. I don’t really care as long as my Char Char is out of harm's way. You got yourself a deal, Malastor!” Alastor cringed at Lucifer’s lack of awareness. He was truly in his own world. But that worked to The Radio Demon’s advantage. So it didn’t really matter either which way. “Lovely!” With that, the two men shook on it. Sealing their deal. Alastor chuckled under his breath from how easy that had been. Lucifer was a common idiot. No wonder the state of hell was in shambles, he thought.

But with the King of Hell under contract with him, it was only a matter of time until you were back in Alastor’s arms. He would make sure of that.

A cool gust of wind stirred you awake. It was nearly three in the morning when you heard someone calling for you. The radio static laced Alastor's voice as he spoke your name. Surely you were still dreaming, right?

"Don't be alarmed, my dear! It's only me." Alastor sat atop your bed. The same way Vox had earlier. His long fingers played with a strand of your hair, pushing it out of your face as he gazed upon you. "How did you get in here?" You nervously whispered. Slowly, you sat upright, grabbing ahold of your husband's face. His cold flesh meshed well against your warm hands. He really was here.

"I have my ways!" Alastor quipped, leaning forward to capture your lips with his. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you melted against him. Oh, how you missed his touch. Seven years was far too long without him and hurt feelings aside, you loved this man with your entire being. "My love, if you get caught-" You whispered against his lips, but Alastor simply silenced you by stealing another kiss.

"Nonsense! It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry your pretty little head, I have an infallible plan to get you out of your contract with Vox." Excitement surged through you from the good news. "Really? That's amazing!" You beamed, wrapping your arms around Alastor's neck. Hugging him as tightly as possible. Your husband relaxed under your touch. Allowing himself to enjoy this long-awaited moment with you.

"I need you to hold out for a bit longer, my dear. Can you do that for me?" Alastor whispered into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back with the pads of his thumbs. You nodded fervently. Whatever it would take, you would endure. "Yes," You sighed a breath of relief. Freedom was nearly within your reach. It was only a matter of time. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts.

"Sweetheart? Are you awake?"

Fuck, it was Vox.

You frantically pulled away from Alastor's embrace. Presenting him with a frightened look. "Go, now!" You nervously hushed, giving him one last kiss before he stood. Alastor's classic grin remained, but his eyes were full of remorse for you. He hated to leave you here like this, but there was no other way. Just a little bit longer. Alastor whispered a small "I love you" before his shadows enveloped him. Whisking The Radio Demon away right in the nick of time.

Moments later, your door swung open. Revealing a worrisome Vox. "Sweetheart, why didn't you answer me?" He quickly made his way to your side. His slender fingers grasped your chin. Vox tilted your head every which way, scanning for any abnormalities. "I-I'm sorry! I had a nightmare... so I was still pretty out of it when I heard your voice." You lied. Trying your hardest to force a smile his way. Vox's expression softened from your confession.

"You see, this is why I insisted on installing cameras in your room. I would be able to get here sooner at times like this." Vox sighed, pulling you into his chest. His arms enveloped your waist. "No cameras in here, you promised..." You mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his frame loosely. If you were entirely unresponsive, Vox would know you were being furtive. So you played your part. Whatever it would take, right?

"I did promise. You're right, sweetheart. But the offer still stands." Vox squeezed you tighter. The embrace bordered the lines of discomfort from how he held onto you. All you could do was nod against him, hoping he would release you sooner rather than later. "I-I know, thank you." It felt like pulling teeth, forcing out those words. Slowly, Vox pulled away. He gently pressed your shoulders down before tucking you back into bed.

"Try to get some more rest. It's still early, sweetheart. If you have another nightmare, just call out to me. I'll be here." Vox pressed another kiss to your forehead before standing up. He walked over to the chair that resided in the corner of your room. Vox made himself comfortable, gaze never once faltering from you. You squeezed your eyes closed. Forcing yourself to doze off despite the pressure you felt from his watchful gaze.

Alastor had remained outside your bedroom window. Overhearing your and Vox's entire conversation. His blood was boiling. Is this what you've had to endure for all these years? Alastor clawed at the side of the building right beside your window. His anger was only building the more he replayed the air of discomfort you illuded. Vox made a grave mistake thinking he could win you over.

You were his wife, and he would remind Vox of that fact. It was only a matter of time.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor angst #alastor hazbin hotel #vox x reader x alastor #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel vox

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nmakii · 3 months

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Yan!Alastor with a sweet little doe reader that loves to stay close to them and is rather clingy? Cuddles are a must, light kisses on the chin, wanting to walk together with held hands, physical contact is basically their love language! 🥰 even going for his fluffy ears cause who wouldn’t?? I love your writing btw! It makes me happy whenever you have something new for us ❤️

SAY YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE ME!

— yandere!alastor x clingy!reader

— AGH!! this made me scream thank you sm i love you!!! violence warning! pure yandere fluff 😲

is in love with how clingy you are! you refuse to leave his side, and he didn’t even need to force you! alastor loves a submissive darling who’d do what he desires without asking

not to mention how innocent you are! how did such a sweet little doe such as yourself get into hell? st. peter must have been mistaken!

because of your pure nature, alastor would only want the best things for his darling! just promise him to be his forever, and the rest of hell will be in the palm of your hand.

alastor himself isn’t one for physical touch though. he doesn’t mind keeping you at his side nor does he mind the kisses, don’t get it wrong, he adores your kisses! touching his ears though may be harder to adjust to.

he hates the reminder that he is a prey animal, he himself enjoys being the predator. your gentle touch against his fluffy ears and antlers as he twitches under your touch makes him quite uncomfortable to the fact you’re touching his weakest and most sensitive spot.

eventually, he grows to accept the fact that to be yours, he must make some sort of sacrifice. and if it’s this, so be it…

although, because of your clingy behavior, it only raises his possessiveness. seeing you even talking to someone else would make his blood boil.

especially if it is someone alastor has conflict with; seeing you even be approached by lucifer or vox would make him jealous; his smile would grow strained, his murderous intent thick in the air, enough to cut with a knife.

against lucifer or fellow overlords, alastor wouldn’t act upon it. despite his huge ego, he knows better than to pick a fight with demons who are more powerful than him.

to those who are lesser than him… unfortunately, they’re not as lucky.

of course though, being the gentleman he is, he refuses to taint your soul with all the carnage and bloodshed he commits to keep you as his sweet doe.

‘LIVE ON AIR’ the neon sign in alastor’s broadcast station lit up as the speakers across pentagram city came to life. a man begging for his life, screaming as various noises were heard. one could only assume the radio demon was tearing his soul to pieces.

the sound of flesh being ripped apart was gruesome as the sinner’s bloodcurdling screams grew weaker. the sound of his corpse being hit against the walls of the station at least 40 times until alastor threw the body onto the floor.

when the man screamed no more, alastor’s voice was heard, sighing deeply, as if all his pent-up stress had just been released before joyful music started playing in the background. “good evening, sinners! take this broadcast as a reminder not to mess with what belongs to me! lest you’d like me to feast on your screams.” alastor warned before he laughed maniacally. and then he was gone once more.

after releasing all of his fury, he returned back to your shared bedroom, his cute little doe in pretty jammies he bought for you. so comfy in bed while hugging a plushie of a manically-cute red kitty, the antlers on its’ head resembling alastor’s. “alastor, what took so long?” you pouted as he began to retire in his nightwear, first taking off his bowtie.

“forgive me, my doe. there were many things to cover tonight on my radio broadcast…” he smiled, pinching your plump cheeks; so yummy and jiggly under his touch. “could i make it up to you tonight?” he smiled widely.

“ugh, then hurry up, please?!” you hit the sheets in frustration. “ahaha… just be patient, my darling.” he patted your head, getting into bed with you. turning off the lights before he wrapped his lanky arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair and leaving a trail of light kisses over your head.

the next time you’d see alastor’s broadcast station, a peculiar skeleton is pinned, adding a grotesque look to the hotel

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor hc

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