Jing Yuan the semi-retired army general who never took a wife… steadily approaching his silver years yet never once expressing interest in the debutantes thrown at him over the many seasons by mamas eager to snatch him up… you take a job at his townhouse. servants have always had nothing but good things to say about him, gushing about good pay and a respectful employer—that reputation, and nearly half a year’s employment confirming it, are precisely why you walk so easily into his trap.
When you stumble into his study during a rare ball he’s hosting, he gives you the same patient, understanding smile he did when his cat tripped you as you were serving tea and spilled the cup over his lap. It gives way to a furrowed brow, a concerned and then frantic call of your name as you drop to your knees. His hand is cool on your forehead, those gilded eyes all you can see when he mutters that you’re burning up. You’re so out of it that you hardly register the sound of the thick wooden door behind you heaving open—so out of it you don’t realize he’s moved you to the chaise, that your blouse is unbuttoned and your skirts have settled barely over your thighs. And by the time you come-to the following day, you certainly won’t remember the way his burning gaze draws down your body or how he loosens his tie before turning from you to the sudden visitors…
i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..
also, for your consideration:
Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...
Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...
this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)
I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.
Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.
The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino.
But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.”
Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.
When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.
“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all.
“Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.
He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.”
It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like.
The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)
“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…”
“No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.
So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.
“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond.
“Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”
Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.
-----
A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?
Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really.
------------
Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…
And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!
The Volo drugging thing BUT he does it more than once. Escalating every time he does it, until he finally decides to take you...except he's gonna make sure you're slightly awake to feel his mouth and cock~
Bonus if all this been an elaborate hate fuck->genuine obsession scheme. You're too fucking cute and it annoys him to no end.
notes: noncon, drugging
I love this idea!!
Maybe, as you said, it starts out of a mixture of genuine dislike and lust. You come into this world out of nowhere, and absolutely everything seems to go your way. Calming and 'befriending' guardians, taking control of a strong team of Pokémon, and becoming a treasured member of the Survey Corps. For once, Volo wants something to go wrong for you, albeit his methods for that are… Unconventional.
He'll travel with you for a bit, slip something into your food every night, and grope you in your sleep. It starts off just through your clothes, feeling the shape of your body and, as time goes on, slowly taking pieces of clothing off, one by one.
Turning to travel with you to facilitate his plans was his biggest mistake. Because despite himself, he is feeling somewhat charmed. You're cute, he begrudingly admits to himself, though none of this feelings are ever entirely unaccompied by a pang of bitterness. (Of jealousy, because you seem much more blessed by Arceus than he's been his entire life.)
The desire to touch you grows and grows, and has stopped being merely a twisted tool of revenge, a plan to taint the greatest gift Arceus gives all that walk the earth: a body. This night, he purpsefully lowers the dosage just a bit- Over the passing nights, he has had a lot of time to experiment.
Your body would be entirely frozen, and disoriented to the point whether you couldn't tell if you were awake or asleep. His hands on your body would feel flaming hot and disembodied, any pleasure a far away thrum. You don't even have the control over your body to quicken your breathing, your pupils darting around rapidly underneath cracked open eyelids- The only part of your body that you can actively move.
When, after a far too long time, you finally realise what's going on, Volo's cock is sliding down your forcefully relaxed throat, and tears spring to your eyes. When the tears in your eyes finally flow over and drip down your cheeks, his smile is sickeningly gentle as he wipes them away with his thumb.
(The next morning, you are tempted to think that it was just a dream. The alternative is too horrible to think on for too long, too nauseating. Volo acts so normal to you, even cheerier than usual, and you just cannot imagine him doing something like this without at least somewhat of a guilty conscience. But when you go to bathe, you find that your underwear is on backwards.)
DOTTORE DRUGS YOU UP AND HOLDS YOU SIDEWAYS.....PLUVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII....please i want him to be nice to me....very badly....and its okay if he drugs me as long as he's still nice to me....
I think he gets sooooooo doting and touchy and kinda clingy when he’s drugged u and knows u won’t remember or protest. Just likes to have u near him. Also I like to imagine it kinda giving u the munchies so he’ll hand feed u too 🫶🏻
YAN KAKU!!! i think you rewired my brain a little i need to lay down
I think abt this soooooo much but like having been his fiance back when he was undercover (unbeknownst to u ofc) that he had to leave behind when it all went down……. And he told himself it was all for the cover but esp during those rocky months when he’s on the run w the others he always finds himself thinking back to you………..
Truthfully I ping-pong between smthn nice and sweet where he’s Pining for forever, constantly dreaming about you but well aware that seeking you out now would only lead to you potentially being used as leverage against him by the world government so he has to stay away until he finally snaps out of it n disappears to potentially return to water 7 (which imo is genuinely possibly where his arc might end up in canon???) and then it’s a fun slow burn bc why on earth would u take him back immediately
But then also horrible yan kaku who returns regularly to keep tabs on you. And at first it’s just to watch from afar—but soon enough he’s slipping into your apartment to pilfer little trinkets and things to bring back with him, pushing the envelope more and more until he’s wandering around your room while you’re sleeping, and it’s only a matter of time before he succumbs to the urge to touch you again. And from there it’s an easy step to slipping a little something into your nighttime tea so he can bask in your glassy eyes and breathy sighs of his name. Clearly you’ve been dreaming of him all on your own, from how little you protest when he kisses you again at long last.
this is a commissioned work! thank you so much for your support!
notes: yandere, stalking, kidnapping, drugging
a continuation to this. cynthia x reader x volo
Volo will never meet his god. It’s the eternal punishment for his hubris; an inability to die. His energy shall never return to Arceus, and he’ll forever roam the earth itself. At first, he wanted to see a blessing in his curse. He had an eternity to figure out all the secrets of the world, an eternity to try again. An eternity to spend with you. (As Arceus’ angel, knew you couldn’t die.) But you disappeared without a trace and, as Volo aged, there was nothing left to interest them. The ruins left to discover for these days are places he saw turned to rubble before his very eyes.
He doesn’t believe you’re dead. Volo has never seen your body, has never seen the rot sinking into your skin, so you’re alive. Out there, somewhere. There are few things for him to study, even fewer places he has left to visit. You’re all he has left. When he has reached his limit once again and tries to die, it’s the thought of you that drags him back. (One time, he finds comfort in someone with your face. They looked so much like you that, for a moment, he lost himself in them. It’s the first thing in his life he truly regrets.) Pieces of his past self break and fall away from him. He no longer has the energy left to be charming, to approach anyone who isn’t of direct use to him.
After a century of aimless wandering, he sees you again. At the side of a woman who looks so much like himself, smiling like he remembers you always did. The resemblance between him and her is striking. Were you looking for him too, all this time, and is she the closest thing you could find? A cheap copy? He’ll take better care of you, like he always did. This Hisuian Sinnohan champion is a mere substitute for himself. (Even if she is who he thinks she is, that doesn’t change anything.)
Once Volo has finally found what he wants to live for again, there’s no stopping him. The woman is smart though, he’ll give her that. Constantly on the move, or having her Pokémon crawling about nearby. He himself hasn’t had a team in years, only Spiritomb remaining by his side. But Volo has no guilt or shame left, unable to care about your ‘friend’s’ privacy, and finds his way towards her home. It took him longer to find than he would care to admit.
He finds you laying in bed in the middle of the champion’s messy home. You’re… Out of it, clearly. Your pupils are blown wide open, and a bit of drool leaks from the corner of your mouth. You don’t seem to be able to move. Even when he prods your side, you don’t even twitch. You’re still somewhat aware, though. When he moves his hand in front of your eyes, your gaze follows it. Before he can give into his urges, no matter how badly he wants to devour you right here and now, he has to document your state. Take pictures and videos of you, including your current surroundings.
When he strokes your face, the groan you let out is almost inaudible. You’re still so pretty. Neither of you have aged much, despite the years flying past you. He still feels the same too. Being so close to you has his heart racing, his fingers twitching. They tremble when he cups your cheek. Without any hesitation, he kisses you. Your mouth doesn’t taste like it used to. Is she not feeding you your favourite foods? When he pulls away, buries his face into your hair and inhales, he can tell you don’t smell the same either. Your locks have been slathered in some shampoo you’d never used before. You’re different, you’ve changed. He’s not the same either. But all of your changes… They’re not your own doing, they’re hers.
“Get away from her.” Cynthia’s voice trembles with suppressed rage. Volo hadn’t heard either of them approach, but now he has a Garchomp’s claw nestled against his throat. He doesn’t move. Why should he? He has nothing to lose, and the pain of another failed death is a price he’s willing to pay.
“Call your Pokémon back,” he says instead. “Unless you want pictures of your lover,” he laughs despite himself. “Sent to every news outlet you can imagine. Kill me, and they’ll be sent automatically within the hour.” Cynthia doesn’t comply with his demands either. Instead, Garchomp lifts him up, and holds him so tightly he can’t move.
Cynthia glares at him with an amount of hatred he hasn’t seen in a century. “What do you want? Money? Fame?”
Volo laughs. “None of that. I’d say my demands are very simple.”
He talks. In an attempt to show to this second choice how much he loves you, and the depth of the relationship you two shared. He talks about how you are an angel, something she wouldn’t be able to understand, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you, and how he is certain that you would prefer him. He recites parts of the letters he’d written for you in your absence, and the places he wanted to show you. After not having mentioned you in years, everything comes flowing out. Cynthia only allows it, because she’s stunned into silence. With every word he speaks, he reminds her more of a diary she knows by heart.
“Are you… Volo?”
The two of them don’t get along perfectly well, and disagree on who or what is best for you. But, in the end, they come to the agreement that they’d rather spend time looking after you, instead of constantly trying to take you away from the other. (Volo would never have folded so easily if Cynthia wasn’t a descendant of him, and Cynthia would’ve never allowed this if his diaries hadn’t been such an eye opener for her.) Because of her many responsibilities as the champion, Volo ends up spending the most time around you.
Now that someone is around looking after you, you’re not given nearly as many spores as before, only enough to have your mind remain a little hazy. Most days, Volo does everything for you. From feeding to dressing to cleaning you up, and talking to you about the memories you’ve lost. Whenever you seem to panic, he forces you to calm down. He does still talk to you about how he’s better than Cynthia, and tries to get you to protest against her as well. Cynthia, on the contrary, is likely to kick Volo out of her house when she finally has some free time to spend with you. He never goes far. She’s sure you prefer spending time with someone you actually remember, hm?
This is a little gift for a commissioner! Thank you for your continued support! (A little add on to their previous Cynthia commission here.)
notes: fem!reader, noncon, yandere, drugging, piss.
Your nose is so clogged with different spores that you can hardly breathe.
At first, it was a Stun Spore shot your way, cutting off your protests and leaving you frozen in your spot. It was like you were trapped inside your own body. Unable to struggle, no matter how much you tried. At most, your limbs twitched. When Cynthia commanded her Roserade to add a pinch of Sleep Powder, you knew you were done for. The powder, almost glittery in nature, was deceivingly pretty as it drifted towards you. You tried to hold your breath, but your own brain betrays you and forces you to inhale it in the end. The combination of the two wreaks havoc on your system: The spores force you to stay completely still, while the small amount of powder makes your muscles relax.
Cynthia smiles at you.
Your knees buckle, and you stumble forward. She catches you with a soft 'oof', immediately starting to pet your head. "Your home is with me. I don’t care where we go or what we do, as long as we’re together. You were sent my way across space and time- How could this not be a sign?” You can just barely keep your eyelids open, much less respond. A thin line of drool dribbles from your mouth. But that’s not what gets your heart to race. As your whole body goes limp and you lean all your weight on her, you feel a bit of piss starting to leak out. A garbed little noise of panic leaves the back of your throat. It starts off as only a few droplets, then a trickle, but it soon starts gushing out at such a pace that it soaks through your underwear and runs down your leg. The wet patch spreads to Cynthia’s pants, though largely invisible against the black fabric.
“You don’t have to struggle. It’ll be okay. It’s easier if… Ah!” Her pants cling to her leg, and she can finally feel the wet heat. Tears have formed in your eyes, and you can’t even try to hold them back before they’re streaming down your cheeks. Your face is burning up, and you want to curl up and hide. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t know you had to go! Don’t be embarrassed, it’s not your fault at all. I guess Roserade helped out a bit too much, hm?” She laughs softly, and returns the Pokémon to her ball. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Cynthia supports your body as you stumble over your own feet. The messiness of her home stands out even more now that you keep almost slipping on scattered papers or tripping over cups. (Today had been supposed to be a 'goodbye' party at her place, one final sendoff between friends before you'd part ways for a while. That’s the only reason you travelled all the way to her home. You were planning on moving on to another region, for once, without her. You would have still been friends, you would've still been in contact. But it hadn't been enough, apparently.) She pushes you down onto her mattress.
Her bed is soft. Though she asked you to share and sleep there with her whenever you stayed the night, this is your first time actually doing so. You’d always thought she’d been joking, and you had returned her jests. Every time you rejected her, you must’ve pushed her a bit further. She’d saved you, helped you so much, shown you so many beautiful things… She’d been your one pillar in this world, your best friend. Where did it go wrong? Did you… Cause her to be this way? Was she always like this, or did you change her? Cynthia towers over you, but she’s kneeling in between your legs, hands placed on the mattress in front of her. Her gaze pierces into you, her face flushed as she pants a little.
“I’ve… I’ve imagined this for ages. Even before you came to me.” Her hands tremble as she lowers them towards your thighs, hesitating a moment before pressing them down. She jolts a little, as if shocked. “So soft… You really are perfect.” She kneads at the skin, her flush deepening more by the second. “I’ll show you… That I deserve you. That I can make you feel good.” She takes a shuddering breath, and shakes her head a bit, like shaking something off. “It has to be uncomfortable in those soaked clothes… I’ll get them off.”
The insides of your thighs are still wet with piss, and Cynthia first makes her way there. She kisses your knees in reverence, trailing kisses up your leg until she's lapping at the wet spots, cleaning you up. She's nothing if not soft, and in your spore-addled brain, all your feelings become hazy and muddled. You ... Don't want this. But you can't remember the last time someone touched you like this, like you're the centre of their world, or or- (For a moment, you remember. It's the same blonde hair and grey eyes gazing up at you, but their hair is pulled up in a bun, and they breathe out that you are their goddess.)
The memory slips out of your grasp again as soon as Cynthia presses her lips to your clit, the only thing separating her from your skin being your soaked underwear. Her lipstick has left a trail of kisses up the inside of your thighs. Arguably, you're dirtier than when you started.
"Hm, I can't tell if you're wet or not because of your little accident... Oh well. I know you are." Cynthia pulls your panties off by hooking two of her fingers underneath the fabric. She gasps at the sight of your pussy, looking like she has stars in her eyes. "You’re sooo cute! I'm so lucky." You used to think yourself lucky when you saw Cynthia gushing over something: It was a side of the Champion many didn’t know, and it made you feel closer to her. It was cute when it was about a new artefact she discovered… Not so much in this situation.
She continues her quest of ‘cleaning you up’, pressing the flat of her tongue near your hole and sliding it up until she has the tip pressed against your clit. For a few moments, she swirls her tongue around it. You tense up, uncontrollable twitches shooting through you as your insides clench around nothing. Then, she closes her lips around it and sucks.
Despite the forced relaxation of your body, your hips jerk up to meet her mouth, and a little squeak is wrenched out of your throat. You feel her lips curl as she hums around you, making your back lift off the mattress as your body struggles against the paralysis. The pleasure melts away any remaining thoughts you might have had, and any tension right alongside it. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth is oozing drool, dripping down your chin and down onto your throat.
Any pretence is lost in the favour of your pleasure as Cynthia slips a finger inside you, curling it and seeking that special little spot inside you. She grazes it, and you whine. You’re twitching and gushing and making the most incomprehensible guttural noises as pleasure overflows. Not passing out is taking the most tremendous amount of effort. You don’t even notice Cynthia is looming over you until you feel her breath brushing against your neck.
“You’re all messy here too. Let me help.” She kisses at your throat, licking at the spit that dripped down your lips. As you feel your pussy dripping, you vaguely think that she’ll have enough to ‘clean up’ for a few more rounds.
