#Dion Agriche smut

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

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Chapter 1

Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

===

“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Agriche makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Agriche.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the terrace.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t argue with him, because it would only be one-sided. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decides to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Agriche was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argiche family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

[lynxxpoint]

Forgive me, for I am sinning again. I read Roxanna a while back, and honestly I cannot get over Dion. Couldn’t find enough stuff with him, so I drabbled one myself this morning.

Warning: definitely NSFW and a little sadistic (it’s Dion, we expect nothing less). Minors Do Not Interact.

“Dion, wait - hng - I can’t-”

You teared up, your dark lashes becoming damp and your vision hazy. The intense stimulation was too much. You wanted him to pause for a moment, to allow some reprieve so that you could catch your breath, but it seemed as though your pleas for mercy only excited him as his movements grew fiercer.

He fucked you as if his life depended on it. Each thrust penetrated you deeply, reaching all of your sensitive spots and making your toes curl. It felt amazing, but it was also overwhelming.

Dion’s hand stealthily slid up from your thighs to your waist, before reaching to your backside and lifting your hips with ease. Your eyes widened as you realized what his intentions were. One of your hands shot out to push against his chest in protest. “Wait-!”

The objection died on your tongue as he gave a particularly harsh trust, burying himself inside of you until his pubic bone was flush against yours. A mixture of a whimper and moan escaped your lips, your nails dug into the firm flesh of his pectoral. He barely even registered the pain, but he paused for a moment, ceasing his movements while keeping you stuffed full of him.

Dion’s red eyes flicked to your face, his breath coarse and heavy as he watched some saliva dribbled down your chin. You stared up at him, your eyes unfocused. Your tried to speak, probably an attempt to scold him, but your words came out as nonsensical gibberish. He couldn’t help the smug smirk that tugged at his lips.

How good it felt to see you powerless beneath him.

Dion leaned down, pausing briefly when his face was mere inches from yours so that he could ask, “you can take it, can’t you?” He cooed with encouragement, an undertone of mockery tainting his voice. You stared up at him, your eyes silently answering ‘no’. He nearly chuckled, his inner sadist satisfied, before he added, “For me?”

You hesitantly nodded, not wanting to disappoint your lover. Dion hummed in approval, pulling back slightly before giving another powerful thrust. Your entire body tensed, your back involuntarily arching as you exhaled a coquettish groan.

“Good girl,”he praised as he leaning in further, licking up your chin where the trail of your own spit resided before capturing your lips with his, purposefully silencing you from being able to protest any further as he continued to violate every part of you.

[liviavanrouge]

Twst x Manhwa AU: New World

Livia: Ugh, I can't wait to go home!

Minako: Hah! I can tell!

Livia: Mina...the mirror

Minako: *Perks up* NOT AGAIN!!

Livia: *Flaps her wings, and grabs Minako yelping when the mirror sucked them both in*

Crowley: Oh dear...

Malleus and Lilia: *Looks sharply at Crowley, their eyes glowing* YOU

~~~~~

Livia: *Screams, falling out of the air, her eyes wide when she found her animal features gone*

???: *Gasps as she crashed into him* WOAH!

Livia: Ouch...that is gonna hurt like hell...

???: Are you alright?

Livia: *Opens her eyes finding a blond haired male with green eyes staring at her* H-Huh...who are you?

???: *Blinks in surprise* Prince Isis of the Elmir Kingdom

Livia: *Blinks still confused*

Isis: *Stares at her now concerned*

~~~~~

Minako: *Looks around, finding herself in some creepy woods* Livia!? Liv!? FIREFLY!??

???: *Holds their sword to her throat*

Minako: *Whips around and kicks the figure right in their chest pushing them back*

???: A fighter, I see...

Minako: Hah, did you expect an easy target?

???: Not at all, but remember the name Dion Agriche when you die

Minako: *Grins* Fuck you.

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @writing-heiress @marrondrawsalot @abyssthing198 @zexal-club @teddymochi

[d10nsaint]

REWRITE THE STARS

Paring; Dion agriche x reader

I’d like to say this is sort of a 700 special, but I guess im pretty late. Special thanks to @acuriousmoon for not only drafting this, but always helping me get into the writing spirit when I help her with her works. Shes truly amazing, and i dont think i’d be able to progress without her.

The sounds of the flapping of the butterflies’ wings was extremely loud— the sound of thousands of poisonous butterflies echoed through the halls, along with the sudden ‘oong’ sound of the magic circle.

You’d frozen dead in your tracks. One second you’d been standing behind Dion while walking with Lant and Roxana, and the next, Lant had been coughing up blood while suffering in a magic circle while Roxana sat atop a gorgeous throne that only Lant sat on.

You felt a presence cling onto your cloak, tiny hands shaking and face hiding into your clothes.

Lant Agriche was a very simple and clear man—he believed in in the foreign concept of, ‘to kill or to be killed,’ and he lived by cruel terms; ‘Affection was a weakness’, as, ‘there is no need for it either’.All he wanted was the money and power there was to wield instead.

That very high and noble man was wheezing on the floor, screaming at Roxana and His son.

His son.

Your husband. The man who had given you the child that was clinging to you, afraid of what his father would do.Even you didnt know what he was going to do.

“Kill…her..”, Lant was coughing up blood after screaming so much, his eyes traveling to Dion. Your entire body shook. What would he do?You turned to Roxana, who watched Dion with amusement. Who would he choose? His wife and son, or His father?

“Erm..Dion, honey, come here.” You swallowed a lump in your throat with every pause. What if he decided he didnt need you anymore? What about your son?

“Dion, darling, please.” Contrary to your poker face earlier,you had shown your concern on your face.

He just stared at you, motionless. But instead of helping the head of Agriche who was angrily bawling for his help and sheathing his sword, he slowly walked across the hall towards you and your son. He ignored his father’s outcries as his gloved hand grabbed yours, placing a small kiss on the gloved dorsal side of your hand,His gaze and expression remained cold, but his words sent warmth down your spine.

“I am at your mercy.”

How an outsider as warm as you had the eldest son of the Agriche household wrapped around her finger point that he remained loyal is far beyond anyone’s comprehension, including Roxana’s.

[honestly-oceanie]

“Meet Me At Midnight”

Warnings(mention): Violence & murder (indirect), blood, sexual  themes, “Dion Agriche”

《Dion Agriche x reader》

{smut/thirst♤ | scenario▪︎imagine▪︎}

Imagine...

A random guy started flirting with you but you paid him no heed not even a glance. He obviously knew who you are, his next words goes to show and it infuriated you inside. “You should divorce your husband, he does not deserve a beauty like you at all.” You turn to glower at him but did not spare him a word instead you just walked away.

Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes were glaring daggers from afar.

After the sun had set, the random guy had an unexpected visitor on his manor. And to say the visit turned bloody hell would be an understatement. The visitor did not stop until he was finally satisfied with his work of ‘art’.

When your beloved husband, Dion, finally came home clothes all bloody, you immediately rush to him. Although you knew none of the blood belonged to him you were still worried and you didn’t like the sight at all.

You stare at Dion with worry evident in your eyes, while he just stare back at you as if he’s piercing through your soul. Without saying anything, he pull you towards him by the back of your neck, shortly after your lips touched he started kissing you hungrily. After what seemed like forever he finally pulled away.

“Jump“ he said and you did. Wrapping your legs on his waist and your hands on his shoulder to keep stable, you started sucking and placing hickies on his neck whilst he lead you both to bed.

After laying you on the bed, he look down on you beneath him. You were wearing your simple nightwear and yet you just look so enticing and enchanting right now. Without second thoughts he rip your nightwear apart giving him the full view of you. Even though his hands were still covered from his last victim’s blood, he did not care he inserted his fingers inside of you nice and slowly at first. Hearing no moans from you put a frown on his face, thus he roughly starts thrusting his bloody fingers in and out of yo, because of the pace of his fingers you started moaning his name out “Dion, Dion, Dion.” 

Not daring to ask what had obviously transpired, you just indulge yourself in the pleasure your beloved husband could give you as he is almost always out for his missions sent by his father.

After you had given your release, Dion pulled his fingers out which are now covered with your cum and his last victim’s blood. After staring at it with satisfaction he turned to you with an indescribable emotion in his eyes. But despite that you still understood, as you’re the only one ever to understand him. 

He placed both of his arms on either side of your head to support his weight and avoid crushing you. In the dark, he says “your eyes...are like midnight.” You knew what he meant. It was going to be a long night...maybe till sunrise.

A/N: can’t believe how I managed to keep a straight face while writing this so no one would be suspicious of what I’m doing😂  Gonna write a fluff later, back to procrastinating now.

Credits: @d10nsaint , you’re the reason why I even started liking this psychopath man😅. @forbidden-sunlight , for your message😊. Sorry this had to be my first fic, I accidentally click post instead of save draft I didn’t properly check😓. @dxmoness​ , my fav💗 I originally planned to make my regis series fic but you’re doing one right now so I’m gonna sit back and wait.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

1  2  3  4  5  6 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Chapter 7

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: themes of obsession and maybe possessiveness, implied thought of suicide once (1), toxic relationship/marriage, slight themes of misogynistic society (??? Probably???), implied guilt and regret, ooc Dion. Please tell me if I missed anything.

NSFW warnings: sexual fantasies (Dion: implied unprotected sex, unprotected frottage, oral (fem receiving), clit stimulation, mention of fingering), one (1) dry hump, teasing, mention/implied masturbation, offers of oral (male receiving) and handjob, slightly sexually frustrated Dion (he might die if u don’t kiss him eventually), mention/implications of non-con twice (2) (no he does not non-con you), DUB-CON. Please tell me if I missed anything.

NOTE: I gave the Reader’s brother a name because I dislike writing (family member’s name) unless it’s like the parents. Probably. Also going to tag this as smut just in case.

Main story is slightly different from the drabbles for reasons.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS. 

= = =

Something throbs against your bottom.

Breath catching in your throat, your heartbeat speeds up. Your husband doesn’t make any attempt to move, still hovering above you. He’s so close that you could feel his chest against your back with each and every exhale. Despite his… bodily reaction, he doesn’t grind against you. Doesn’t nibble on your ear or slide his hands until they’re groping at your chest, lifting you enough to do so. 

No, he just stays and his breath makes your ear tingle. You need to get out of this.

“H-hey… mind getting off? I need to change…” You wiggle a bit, aiming to escape his one-sided ‘embrace,’ if you could even call it that. Only to immediately stop once he hisses through his teeth, one hand flying to hold your hips still. You cease all actions and breathing becomes difficult. 

All is silent. 

The air becomes heavy and awkward. You dare not move. The risk of rubbing against him is high and you’d rather avoid giving him the wrong idea. Ah, but how should you go about this situation? You can’t exactly move and begging would elicit a less than desirable response from him - he likes seeing you cry, so begging might give him the same thrill. 

Seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours. Dion doesn’t move against you nor away from you. However, his fingers dig into your hip, and you hold back the whimper from the sharp pain caused by his grasp. You’re stuck and don’t know how to escape. 

…but he is your husband. You don’t want to do that again, to be used as a fleshlight as he enjoys himself while you shake in his arms from the pain. It was humiliating. Awful. 

But your mother would tell you to go along with it. Lant would expect it. Your sister would comfort you, saying that it’s only natural, normal for married couples to engage in sexual intercourse. As for your father… he was always too awkward to discuss the subject. 

Besides, you already told him that you refuse to go through it again. That he could jack off and you would shove his sperm into your cunt so it could reach your fertile womb. 

You also don’t want to give birth to his child. However, you had no say so in that area - a child should be the result of any marriage. You scowl. While things were different in your old, modern world, things were vastly different here. A child was expected, needed in most cases. 

And this was one of them. 

His cock throbs again. 

… you could offer to jerk him off again. Maybe use your mouth if you’re feeling daring, suck on and twirl your tongue around the tip as your hands work the shaft. You’ll even swallow if it means he’ll stay far, far away from your cunt. It doesn’t matter if his cum is bitter and sour. 

When he throbs against you for the third time, you bring up your offer, your voice faltering with each word. When he takes a sharp breath, you know that you signed your death certificate. If accepted, you won’t be able to turn back.   

Wasn’t Dion Agriche supposed to be immune to sexual desires? From what you saw from spoilers, he was dense when it came to romance, so why was he acting this way? …then again, nothing about this was romantic. 

“I don’t need it.” was his response. In spite of that, he doesn’t move, voice husky and dripping with lust. You despise yourself for the shiver running down your body while your ear tingles as his breath hits it. It seems that you’re also weak to physical pleasure regardless of your wariness and fear. 

If only your body was more receptive last night. 

“Then why are you still on me? Holding my hip no less.” If your head wasn’t so fuzzy with sleep, if today had gone in a less confusing direction, would you still act the same? Or would you stay quiet as a mouse, waiting for Dion to take you while your stomach churns and you swallow bile down?

“To stop you from squirming,” he deadpans like his fingers weren’t digging into your poor hip. 

“And your hand around my throat?” 

“To see your reaction.” 

This isn’t going anywhere. You’re just running in circles as the man denies himself and keeps you in purgatory. Can’t somebody knock on the door, forcing him to get up and leave?

You think you should be more scared. You are, but it melts into something worse than annoyance. Why can’t he let you sleep? Leave you alone and pretend you don’t exist. 

“You didn’t tell me why you’re still on top of me,” pointing out as you lift your shoulder the slightest bit, silently telling him to get out of your personal space. After a pause he lets go of your neck, hoisting himself up a bit. It’s not much, but at least he isn’t as close. 

He throbs against you a fourth time. 

Please, please for the love of everything that is holy, let him calm down. No sane man would get horny after saying such awful things. 

You forgot he wasn’t sane. 

“Your reactions are interesting.” 

“... Well, you saw them - that should be enough, no?” You’re debating if you should headbut him. Tomorrow, you’re going to question your own sanity, wondering what gave you the bravery of becoming so bold. Chucking yourself into the nearest river won’t be enough. 

Time stops when your husband’s thumb starts rubbing circles into your hip. It’s gentle but suggestive all the same. No, no, no - you don’t want to fuck him again. You don’t want to bare yourself to him, to allow his fingers to rub at your clit as he thrusts in and out of your most sensitive area. You don’t want him to lick your twitching clit or tug his hair as he eats you out again. 

It was too much, too painful. 

You already told him as such. 

“D-D-Dion.” You hate how your voice shakes, choking on his name. You hate how loud your gulp is. You hate how you’re going to offer your mouth and hands to him again. You hate the fact that you’re going to sit back and act how your mother and sister told you to. 

He hums, hand moving from your hip to your back, tracing your spine again. You fail in holding back the small gasp that slips through. How is it possible for him to get harder just from that!? 

Your toes curl as he gives a small hump, only to harshly stiffen. Did he not mean to do that? 

“A-as long as we don’t… do it, then I’ll be happy to help you.” His hips struggle to stay still at your words, your husband clearly getting excited. He shouldn’t be like this. He should have left you alone and obsess over Roxana. 

But your gut is telling you that you switched places with her. That can’t be true though - he’s just playing with you for now. Raising your hopes up that he’ll be a ‘decent’ husband only to shatter the illusion once he gets tired of you. Honestly, after giving it some thought, you’re not sure which one is worse. 

“You have a lot of trouble with saying the word ‘sex’. It’s cute.” Dion muses, deciding to break his promise of not touching you further by ghosting his lips along the back of your neck, stopping between your shoulder blades. 

“M-mmh… You promised not to touch,” you shakily breath out, ignoring how he called you ‘cute.’ Your toes curl again, chest heaving a bit as you force your breathing to stay steady. Fingers digging into the sheets, your head starts to feel dizzy - he’s being much more intimate, choosing to be teasing and lover-like. 

How long has it been since you tingle down there? You hate it, hate how his touches are starting to set the mood. It’s despicable.

“You also said you didn’t come here for this.” 

“People are allowed to change their minds.” Your husband doesn’t go further than this. You wonder what his expression is. What he’s thinking while scared of the reality of everything. Should you be direct with your refusal? Would he even care? Bother to listen? 

Breathing in, you decide to test your luck. 

“But I haven’t.” Again, he stays practically glued to you. “So, please.” Unable to finish, you only shut your eyes tight, praying to whatever God that would listen. After what seems like hours he completely removes himself from you. Relief fills you as you’re freed, air easier to take in. 

It slightly irks you when he doesn’t apologize. The moment you wake up tomorrow, dawn breaking and memories fresh, you might consider killing yourself. To avoid any possible harsh and inhuman punishment Dion may give you for rejecting him. But tonight, right now as your head is fuzzy and your body falling victim to sleep, you couldn’t care less. 

You’re just happy and grateful he listened. 

Now only your body would do the same. 

“You should change and sleep.” No emotion in his voice. Remorse, guilt, annoyance, hatred - nonexistent. You are a bit worried about it but you can only close your eyes. Thinking is becoming hard.

How can you talk to him so freely? Minutes ago you were scared that the man would rape you. Yet now you’re back to being fine? Madness really is contagious. 

“I don’t think I can… that’s not an invitation.” Making your thoughts and expectations clear, you think you can faintly hear the scolding of your mother. You’ll fret over tonight later.

The world ceases to exist around you, falling into the abyss before you could hear him sigh.  

- - -

He was hoping you would change your mind. The most painful part was over with - as long as he took his time with you, it shouldn’t hurt as much. 

He would have played with your clit until you were whining for his fingers.  To flick the nub back and forth with his tongue until you complain, saying he was being unfair. To rub the tip of his cock against both your entrance and clit until your hips were bucking against him, trying to slip him in. 

But dreams don't always come true. 

Dion accepted as such, realizing that it was far too early to have sex again anytime soon. He could live without it. For a while. Hopefully the same goes for you, otherwise…

Well, his left arm would suffer a lot. 

… this isn’t like him. It’s strange and confuses him. You confuse him. But the questions could be saved for later, when his own eyes aren’t becoming heavy with sleep deprivation, the eye bags getting worse. 

He looks at your sleeping figure, halfway undone dress and corset still on. He considers stripping and changing you into the silk nightgown that he threw onto your back earlier. But seeing how the interaction from earlier went, he decides against it. 

He should call for Hana. 

Scarlet eyes stare hard at you. You look so comfortable, so peaceful - he wants to ruin it. Yet, at the same time, he wants to leave you be, to have a moment of peace in this hell. Your husband settles for the latter. Consideration sometimes overwrites sadistic pleasures. 

… something really is wrong with him. He wasn’t raised with consideration in mind yet here he is. 

Walking to the closet, opening the doors and picking nightclothes at random, Dion wonders how bad you’ll freak out tomorrow. If you’ll cry and beg for forgiveness once you’re able to talk and think. Or if you’ll play pretend and give him a nervous smile once the shock wears off. 

Maybe when he closes his eyes and slips into the dreamworld, he’ll be blessed with a dream of where you’ll accept him as is, faults and all. But as Dion slips his shirt on, he knows it’s next to impossible. 

For tomorrow, when you wake up to his sleeping face, you’ll find an isolated corner to hide in. Tonight will only be looked back on with regret filling your mind. 

That’s how it always starts. 

- - -

“Is it too early to write to sister?” a boyish voice asks. Your father looks up from his paperwork, heavy bags under his eyes. Standing in front of his desk in his office stands your brother - (e/c) eyes filled with impatience and worry. His hands are behind his back, nails digging into skin. 

The twelve-year-old boy has to physically stop himself from grabbing your father by the shoulders and shake him, demanding answers. Out of every man to marry you to, every family to give you to… why did he choose the worst of the worst? 

Weren’t there any better options? 

Your father goes back to his paperwork, pen gliding across the sheets. “It’s not, but be mindful of your words. No need to give your sister more stress. God knows she’s already tipping on the verge of insanity.” 

He doesn’t see the point in lying. Everyone with a brain knows he basically sent you to your early grave - it was only a matter of time until the Agriche family drives you crazy. And that’s putting it lightly. 

His reputation as a man and father has been ruined beyond belief. In spite of that, many still pitied him, rumors going around that he was forced to give you away. Others say that he wanted a bit of the power your new in-laws would lend him after the marriage. However, no-one would dare to ask him directly. 

“... am I supposed to wish her luck on her new happy marriage? Or should I tell her how lucky she is to get sold into such a wealthy and warm family?” 

Slam!

“Zachary (Last name)! Enough. This is a political matter; you won’t understand until you get older.” Your father slammed his palms against the surface of the desk, papers flying and pen dropping to the floor. It rolls under the desk. 

“Understand…? What is there to understand? Anyone with a brain cell knows that she won’t last long. Maybe a month if she’s lucky.” Zachary argues back, stomping towards the desk. A staring contest breaks out between the two males - your father is the first to look away. 

Running a hand through his greying hair, he heavily breathes out. “Everything will… work out.” 

“Work out? What do you mean by that? This isn’t some experiment -” 

“Listen,” your father leaves his position to walk towards your brother, grabbing his shoulders. “Your sister is strong. There is no need to worry.” 

“She’s as strong as a single match.” 

“That’s just rude. But yes, she won’t go crazy… immediately.” 

“You just said she’s tipping on the verge of insanity.” 

“It’s a figure of speech.” 

The argument goes nowhere, both males refusing to back down. Your brother was always hard headed - this wasn’t the first argument that has broken out between father and son, nor will it be the last. However, the context of this one is grave. It involves you. 

“Zac,” your father affectionately refers to him by his nickname, “it’s good that you’re worried about your sister. I’m worried too; but now is not the time to think the worst. Right now, you should offer her support…  cheer her up.” 

What a lousy way of pushing aside the pressing issue. 

Zac doesn’t say anything. In the end, he sighs before nodding his head. “Alright. I understand, father.” 

Your father accepts his answer. “Good. Now, like I said, do be mindful of what you write. Right now is a sensitive time.” 

‘Which means that the Agriche family is going to read through the letter first before giving it to her,’ Zac thinks. Alright, fine. That’s fine. 

Not like he practiced writing sugary words with hidden meanings the moment he heard of your engagement. With a teacher he hates but still followed regardless. The results of his teaching better yield positive results. For everyone’s safety - especially your brother’s. 

“I’ll tell her how you cried for two hours straight.” 

“...Zachary.” 

[mysticmeena]

( PART 3!!! i'll admit it's more of a filler chapter with just wedding night details happening. since i cannot write smut to save my life, the content is more indirect rather than explicit. as always, it's unedited so pls ignore my typos and incorrect grammar. hope you enjoy it tho! )

it's universal knowledge that wedding night should be a couple's highlight of their marriage, their union, or luckily enough, their love for each other. it simply meant the couple had finally intimately bonded with each other. and it was usually witnessed by the couple's family, friends, or even their neighbors back then. though that certain tradition has been out of practice nowadays which did soothe your nerves a bit.

if you haven't witnessed your husband killing someone in front of you, perhaps it would've been easier to settle the anxiety knotting in your stomach. those cold crimson eyes, the bloodied sword, and the fear trapping you in one place had certainly given you a lesson to learn and a harsh wake of reality. in which you believed that reliving this life must be been some sort of fantasy and that you truly had gone crazy. but it's not and you really are here.

at the agriche mansion once again. in your personal bathroom, taking a much needed bath before you're escorted to dion's room. after the unannounced beheading, the dark-haired man only dragged you away from the mess and to the personal quarters where he and you will be residing. you had known the nooks and hallways so at least you won't get lost again. but the tightening hold on your wrist had you more concentrated on the pain rather than the gloomy scenery. and your husband, ever so kindly, didn't slow down his walking either before shoving to an open door where the maids were waiting for you.

it's more of a nightmare rather than a dream, you thought to yourself as you leaned your head on the back of the bathtub railings, eyes closed. perhaps you were still slumbering, unwilling to wake up? but then what? will you not wake up in your life again? failing to take your own life even? you would be back in your past life, constantly humiliated and your precious child gone...

quiet footsteps making your way quickly opened your eyes only to see your personal maid along with the two agriche maids trembling slightly before you. the young master believes you were taking too long, one of the maids explained as the others helped you out of the tub and into your attire. which now looked utterly ridiculous as you warily eyed the small piece of fabric. you could only scream at your past self for doing this to you. take that away, you shooed the outfit with a heavy sigh, i might as well wear the robe since clothing will be taken off anyway.

despite their initial protests you, you let the agriche servants out and kept your personal maid, iristyia, with you. all she had to do is make sure you look...desirable, you suppose with the scents, make up and all of that. at very least, you know iristyia wouldn't betray you since you both need up together. in fact, it was her who shared your pain and grief when the mistress appeared. and she was undoubtedly loyal in your last life till she was killed by the agriche monsters. you'll protect her this time. just before you left you whispered something to her and despite the shock on her face, she dutifully agreed. with that, you walked through the doors and stepped into the bedroom.

wedding night is unavoidable, you knew that. it's just that...you hoped it went quickly as possible. at least, you know what to do now as you head straight to the table and sat down on the chair. there was some wine on the table and you hoped to the higher beings it was enough that you would only remember this night as hazy as possible. you have not even glance at dion who has been eyeing you with a predatory graze since you walked into the room. you knew better than to talk right now.

in fact, you decided to take the scenery before you. the beams of moonlight had somehow made it's way in the candlelit room. the open balcony doors let the warm breeze in, gently swaying in the curtains. the rose petals on the bed, where your husband sat, were illuminated by the candles nearby. it was almost romantic the way the room was set in the mood. however, you knew better than to believe that.

so you went to drink instead. one glass filled, the second one filled once more, and then another and another and another until the bottle was nearly empty. till you felt yourself half drunk. your alcohol tolerance wasn't the strongest but it wasn't the weakest at least. and that's good enough for you.

let's get this over with, you mumbled and sauntered, albeit clumsy, up to dion who hadn't even moved from his initial spot in the bed. taking his face into your hands, your lips crashes onto his pale ones. it was just as you remembered it. despite not being with anyone before, he had much experience in this. before you were so shy and nervous, but whatever your lovesick mind created, you were led to believe it was dion who liked you in this way.

littering your neck with aggressive kisses, you know there were gonna be hickies and bruises. fiddling with the robe belt as dion was unable to take out the knot, his only solution was to rip up the robe as he hungrily took in your bare body. as he flipped you beneath him, you could tightening in his pants as it made itself known on your thighs. oh. you forgot to take note of dion's... stamina. quick as you wanted this to be over with, he had other plans it seems as he hastily took off his last piece of clothing.

and those plans took hours as you were certain it was past midnight. your body tired but he never stopped to give you rest. he was always the type to please himself, you thought to yourself as you held on to him. your throat was sore enough from the noises you made before so now you were reduced to the lewd moans and the sharp intakes of gasps that were let out. your poor legs wrapped around dion's waist he kept pounding you relentlessly, you were certain you wouldn't be able to walk properly tomorrow. and your arms holding on to his broad shoulders, to which your delight, you were able to scratch hard enough for him to bleed. petty it was but it gave you enough satisfaction that you made him bleed.

and just when dion thought he finally satisfied himself for the night, you pushed him down and settled right on top of him much to his shock. as you kept moving up and down despite your exhausted state, you found it to be worth it as you kept riding him. perhaps you were too tired to hold it back but you couldn't help but let the tears overflow as you reach closer to your final high. in his sick satisfaction, he reached to place his thumb over your cheek to wipe the tear away. but instead of wiping it, he licked it instead much to your disgust. your tears weren't even worth for him.

just before you could feel the knot come undone for you and him, you cupped his cheek with one hand while supporting yourself with the other hand. your glassy eyes meeting his intrigued crimson ones.

husband, you murmured leaning down for either pair of lips brushing against each other, let this be a reminder that i will never let you go. you'll forever stay within my grasp, unable to escape me.

[u1tr4vio1ence]

EYE OF THE STORM

CHAPTER I: WINDOW TO HELL

PAIRING(S) - Dion Agriche x (Fem.)Reader

DISCLAIMERS - English is not my first language, feel for to notify me of any grammatical or spelling errors. This work is canon-divergent and is a reader insert. There will be added lore but all of the original manwha/novel's plot lines will follow through.

CONTENT WARNINGS (CONTENT MAY CHANGE OVERTIME) - Slow burn, mentionings of infertility, misogyny, manipulation, arranged marriage, toxic families, mentionings of death, angst, blood/violence/gore, eating disorder, mentionings of sexual content (no smut), overall lack of morals.

BEFORE YOU READ - Here is the link to a post with some background information that may help you piece the story together easier.

NOTES - This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done. It's so niche, I'm not expecting a huge audience (hello to the two people who’s gonna read this long ass project) and I originally wasn't even planning on sharing this but a certain someone convinced me to. I don't even like Dion all that much, but I sure love exploring human nature and who's the most inhuman character in TWTPTFLOB? Ding ding ding! Anyways, ever since the manwha came out I looked everywhere and turned every single writing platform upside down to look for the slowest of burns/dark fantasy/character study fic but alas I was unable to find any; so as the saying goes– Fine. I'll do it myself.

Society’s upper echelon is loveless.

Most of the world’s population would call marriage the event of one’s lifetime; a celebration of love is what commoners would say, but in the world of aristocracy, your world, marriage is quite the vile thing. 

The daughters who do not meet the expectations of noble houses get exchanged by the heads like gambling chips. In reality, perhaps that’s what marriage among the nobles truly is. A gamble to see if a contract forged by blood that results in an heir is strong enough to prevent civil war. It is not uncommon throughout the centuries to see weaker noble houses sending their daughters to stronger houses to avoid invasion and removal of political power; treating their daughters like glorified breeding mares.

The situation that you are currently in might just be a fate worst. The eyes of all the guests sitting on the pristine benches do not calm your nerves.

While most of the population is thrilled about this so called historic event, a wedding between two of the big six ruling families, Agriche Black and Vespertine Green, the judgemental eyes that are staring down at your form on the alter knows better. It is no secret that Agriche and Vespertine have a long history of feuding, sharing a border with different goals can only lead to such conflicts. In theory this wedding is a blessing, generations of conflict finally resolved with two powerhouse families setting aside their differences; but if that were true, why were you the one getting married?

The man standing across from you, who you refuse to look at, is Dion Agriche. As a Vespertine and former enemy, you know plenty about the man, but even peasants should know enough about him– that he is dangerous, that he is nothing but a war dog. Your soon-to-be husband is someone who could most likely snap your spine with one hand. Your soon-to-be husband is someone who is on track to become the next head of Agriche. And you?

You were never one who had the talent for combat, nor was your affinity to magic strong. Academically, you were mediocre. Your beauty had always been your saving grace, turning heads everywhere you went and having men flush red with a mere smile. But that wasn’t enough. All due to one factor– your inability to bear an heir. Ever since you could remember, you never had a monthly cycle and your capabilities were nowhere near what it takes to be head of Vespertine. Your father had no clue what to do with you for most of your life, you were dead weight. 

This information should have been private, but the gossiping nobles with knowledge of your abysmal achievements pieced it together after you were still not wed two years after your coming of age ceremony. Rumors only grow; you were sure that everyone in the room watching the notary speak from between you and Dion Agriche knows, you were sure that Lante Agriche knows.

Then why is it that the groom of your wedding is one of the most vital members of the house of Agriche? This is not a solid contract, there is no benefit from it. Was it a temporary act of peace before Agriche and Vespertine start stabbing each other in the back? Was your father sick of you so he tied you down to Agriche, leaving you to die? You were going to die, weren’t you? You-

“I do.”

Your train of thought was broken by the deep lackluster voice of the man in front of you. For the first time in your life, you had a clear look at him. He was extremely pale, his hair was the color of a bouquet of deadly nightshades stained in ink, almost black but not quite. But the thing that made your mouth run dry was his eyes, so red and dead, it made you feel like you were staring at a window to hell. He reminded you of a sculpture, so beautifully crafted yet so lifeless. The moment your eyes met with his, your intuition tells you that your previous thoughts might be correct. You were going to die.

“...in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" 

You tuned out again and almost missed your cue to answer.

“I do.” 

Your voice turned out just as lackluster as his, but the reasoning was due to the thoughts running through your head at the speed of lightning. This wedding took months to plan yet you were still confused as to how it came to be, what is the motive?

For the third time at the alter, your train of thought was broken by the book slamming close in the notary's hand. The older man looked at your now husband.

"You may kiss the bride." 

Your husband leaned in, you can smell him. Cedarwood. Or was it sandalwood? Not unpleasant but it was mixed with a hint of something metallic, barely noticeable. You try not to think whether that metallic scent came from carrying weapons or spilled blood.

His lips touched yours.

–––––

–––––

–––––

–––––

–––––

You flopped down your new bed and looked up at the ceiling. The Agriche manor, aesthetically speaking, sure is… peculiar. You have to get used to the dark hues of the decor, something your old home lacks. 

The carriage ride after the ceremony had been dead silent. You sat next to your husband who seemed uninterested in your existence. You didn’t mind, you were far too busy with counting the trees that passed by to calm your nerves despite it being quite hard to see in the darkness. The moment you two arrived at the manor, Dion immediately walked away on a path leading somewhere you don’t know. The maids escorted you to your bedroom. A private chamber separate from Dion’s.

They knew.

The first night of a noble wedding is one of the most important parts of the ceremony– it seals the contract by conceiving an heir.

How long do you have here? You heard rumors about Lante Agriche’s third wife being fixated on beautiful people, only to turn them into walking corpses. Is that what your future entails? There had also been speculations of the Agriche manor housing a breeding ground of mutated beasts; are you destined to be dinner for them? 

Before you could continue the possibilities, you heard a knock on your bedroom doors.

“My lady, I am here to deliver you a present from your father.”

A wedding gift.

“Yes, come in,” you said with a sigh through your nose.

The servant placed a medium-sized box at a table near your room’s center and quickly left. You waited until you hear the footsteps fade away before getting up to open it. 

A necklace, one with gems that matches your eyes and compliment your skin tone. You’ve received plenty of jewelry over the years, but nothing compares to this. The extravagance and elegance of it outshine any other you have seen. Growing up with nothing but your beauty, your vain habits resurfaced. Immediately, you try on the necklace despite the unnerving situation. Perhaps this is a trick to let your guard down, but you don’t pay much mind at the moment. 

You gaze at yourself in the mirror with it on, no matter how stunning it looked you can’t ignore how it was oddly thick– it’s not noticeable at first glance but the more you look the more you realize that the pendant was somewhat strangely shaped. Your hands immediately start to fidget with it until it suddenly opens. It was a locket. And a folded note fell to the floor.

Your heart raced and your face lost all of its colors. You quickly pick up the paper, unfolding it while mentally preparing yourself for the worst. Your eyes flew across the small page, absorbing every word which left your mouth gaping in utter shock.

“Ah,” you finally muttered, “So that’s how it is.”

[aweirdsimp]

Hey everyone on this app! I just want to introduce myself. So, I am kind of new on here </3. And wants to start writing but idk how yet lol. So, I take request on discord so if you want to add me there or just do the normal way.

just a local simp 🥹

Introduction:

Name: Celestria or Celeste or Cece

Age: 15

Sexuality: Lesbian/Sometime Bi-curious (for fictional man)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: They/She

I am kind of shy and love to write and be in my own space without getting rudely yelled at or random loud noise happen. Since loud noise can cause me the worst panic attack since, I have childhood trauma getting involved with loud noises. And also, I sadly have very sensitive ears. :'D

Things I will write

Fluff

Angst

Siblings fighting

Yanderes types

male x male or female x female

any gender reader

kinks teasing or just kinks

mommy/daddy issues

little bit of smut not fully

Things I don't write

Parents x child

hating on lgbtq

drug abuse

any abuse

Insect

People I currently simping for

Roxana Agriche

Jermey Agriche

Dion Agriche

Notes: I don't own any character or picture I use for my pfp n these posts I am making. Make sure to drink and eat and take care of yourself! <3

"Your beauty Never really scares me".

Edit One: English is not my first Native Tongue sorry guys </3. D:

[i-became-the-lady-of-the-blog]

I'm horny for Dion Agriche and I may have read a smut of him with Roxana

Well shet

Bruhhh

I’ve been in asoiaf fandom since I’m 15 and I’m a Jonerys shipper. Dion and Roxana ship is like “hmm whatever I’ve seen more morally fucked your things”

Here have a panel of him

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Dion Agriche x fem! Reader.

Arranged marriage. Reader is reincarnated. Part of "Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister-in-Law!" Universe

Out of character Dion, Maria being weird and lowkey a creep, implied yandere/slight yandere themes, toxic relationship/marriage, Dion is so fucking out of character here lmao, implied obsession and forming possessive thoughts, implied stalking, implied jealousy from Dion, thoughts of murder, the Reader is lowkey enjoying Dion's physical appearance.

Suggestive, sexual fantasies, implied creampie(?), literally everything that's sexual is just a fantasy, sexually frustrated Dion.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous behaviors and actions that may take place in this piece of FICTION. Such actions should not be romanticized nor normalized as they are both extremely toxic and dangerous.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT REBLOG FANFICTION/FAN ART DNI. DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

No tag list.

I had to edit the dni hahahaha

---

I think Dion is the type of person who prefers affection over fear.

Yes, he's a sadist. Yes, he's a horrible person and maybe even a monster. Any and all types of relationship he may have - be it platonic, familial or romantic, will absolutely be toxic due to how he is as a person. He's traumatized which explains his actions and psyche but doesn't justify it. He doesn't even attempt to.

He's fine with it. He's used to it. It was how he was raised and what he had to become in order to survive in this family. Eventually it just became the norm before he stopped caring about nearly everything, sadistic tendencies that formed as maybe a means to cope.

To be honest, he's not sure how he would have turned out if he had a loving and healthy family. He doesn't even ponder it. After all, why mull over it when he doesn't even know how families are supposed to work?

So, he cut himself off mentally from anyone and everyone.

But then you showed up.

Granted, it was an arranged marriage. Neither of you wanted it and from your behavior and actions, you dreaded being his wife. Was it because of him? His family? Both?

Dion doesn't question it, at first. He just knows that you hate it and that you fear him. Maybe not hate him, he doesn't sense that from you. Doesn't see it in your eyes whenever he's forced to interact with you or whenever you try to play the part of being a wife.

His wife.

Not a loving wife nor a spiteful one. A fearful one, an act done out of obligation lest his father decides to dispose of you. And you have enough common sense to know it won't be painless, that it'll be inhumane and have you wishing you killed yourself before the engagement party.

But Dion doesn't care. Knowing Lant, he'll just force another wife on him, wanting to shape his favorite son into another him, a younger him. He has the looks, just not the personality.

But he's not as cruel as him and you take notice of this. Of course, it's a very slow process. You stay in his presence for a few seconds longer, especially after dinner. Usually, in the beginning, you would take off immediately, excusing yourself, saying that you needed to tend to one thing or other. Obviously it was a lie but he didn't care.

You just needed to produce an heir.

"Make sure she enjoys it - it'll help with speeding up the process." His mother told him out of the blue one day, a smile on her face as her colorful parasol shields her from the sun.

He doesn't know what to say at first - this was the reason she called him out here, right after he just returned from a mission? To be told, by his own mother, to make sure his wife, you, enjoys sexual intercourse? Does it even matter if you do or don't? It's not like the either of you have a choice in the matter.

It was an obligation. A duty as a husband and a wife. Lant wanted Dion married, to have a child, preferably a son, and as Lant's child, he needed to do so. He was trained to listen and obey his father.

When Maria hears no answer, she looks at him curiously.

"Oh my... I've never seen that look on your face in quite some time..."

"... What do you mean, mother?"

What expression was he wearing?

"Hm... Nothing," she answers, smiling so innocently he could almost forget her fucked up personality. Not that he would comment on it.

"Regardless, make sure she enjoys it - it'll have her seeking you out for more. And the more you do it, the faster you'll have a child. Oh, we already performed a fertility test on the girl. She's... Extremely fertile."

Supposedly, she mentally adds.

Should he thank her? Question her? Get annoyed or feel grateful? He's not sure.

Then, he realized something -

Aside from your wedding night, he's never made a move to sleep with you.

No, rather, the most he would do is sleep in the same bed, with his back turned towards you. Maybe a brush of the shoulders if he ran into you at the hallway. Or a graze of the fingers if you handed him something - never nothing more, nothing less.

The conversation has him thinking.

He's never spared you more than a seconds glance - or at least, he thought so.

When he returns to his - your - room later that night, you're already in your nightgown reading a book. On your side of the bed, the lamp lit, your attention is drawn to him once he shuts the door. Strange. He doesn't even remember walking here.

Actually, everything became a blur after his conversation with Maria.

"Oh," you say, "you're back."

He doesn't reply. Doesn't say anything, really, only taking in the sight of you.

Hair loose, nightgown a pretty pastel pink, you look almost at home. There's still a small look of fear in those eyes of yours. You're still jumpy when instead of talking he walks over to you, stopping just an inch shy of the bed.

He knows he's imposing, a giant compares to you - you remind him of a rabbit. A cute, defenseless rabbit.

But rabbits have sex like there's no tomorrow. You don't even hold his hand.

No.

He doesn't hold your hand.

Hm. A rabbit.

How affectionate are they?

Less then you? More than you?

When his eyes travel downwards to your cleavage that peeks through the collar of your gown, he realizes he's a hungry wolf.

Strange.

He's never lusted after you.

Your skin is too bare - not enough marks. Your neck also looks so easy to strangle. What type of expression would you make if he were to wrap his hands around that neck of yours?

He's heard that some are into it. Are you?

Your lips also look lonely. And cold. Colder than his?

His attention drifts to your hands. So small compared to his. Your wrists, too. He could easily hold both in one hand, while the other could grip your waist. Or maybe your chin, if he was feeling romantic.

No.

This isn't like him.

Dion shakes his head before leaving you, walking towards the closet as he strips himself down, getting ready for bed.

It's only when he lays down does he realize he was unable to meet your eyes.

Maybe he didn't want to see the curiosity. Or the fear. Or maybe he was holding back the urge to make them full of tears, or have them full of lust as you look up at him, chest heaving and hair a mess, lips kiss swollen as he marks up your neck. He didn't finish inside on your wedding night - should he tonight? Would your cunt gape as you catch your breath, his seed leaking out and making a mess on his bed? Would you ask for more? Would he give you more?

When he takes off his shirt, the frabic almost rips from his rough treatment. He refuses to look or talk to you for the rest of the night.

Everything returned to normal after that. You didn't ask questions, rather, you looked relieved he didn't do anything. And there's a small part of him that hates it.

As a matter of fact, he's starting to hate everything about you. Your presence is becoming a thorn in his side, useless and worthless. But he wants you to look his way all the same - he's always looking for you without your knowledge, or anyone else's. He refuses to acknowledge it, at first. It's just a coincidence, it happens by chance. He's a man with no need for affection, companionship, his goal to make Roxanna cry, not to pin after you, a stranger he was forced to marry.

Pinning wasn't in his dictionary.

But he starts to notice things about you that he never did before.

You liked pretty things, even if they were... Dangerous. Roxanna was a perfect example - with golden, soft wavy hair and ruby eyes that held both innocence and contempt, you looked on in awe whenever his sister would appear. But you kept your distance, knowing that no-one in this family could be trusted. Him included.

But it didn't stop you from interacting with her, despite your cautious behavior. Roxanna was never anything but nice to you. Maybe she pitted you and maybe she even planned on freeing you, if the opportunity arises.

The thought makes him upset.

But he also notices how you sneak glances at him, especially whenever his arms are showing. You prefer it when his sleeves are rolled up, showing off the muscle while teasing the rest. He does it to tease you sometimes, a habit that's out of character for him. But the fact you find him attractive eases some of this... Growing obsession with you.

You also liked the garden, spending most of your time in the hidden corners. You would sketch the butterflies, the flowers, research them and anything else they had in the library. That was another of your favorite spots. Also hidden in a corner, you would read romance stories if you weren't interested in a new plant you discovered.

Most of them was happy, fluffly with cliches you could see from miles away - he didn't even know they had those types of books. Someone probably snucked them in behind Lant's back and managed to keep them in the library. Then again, Lant was never one to visit it.

Barely anyone did.

You also liked sweets. The food in general, actually. You weren't a picky eater, and honestly, you only felt somewhat comfortable if it was only Dion or Roxanna in the dining room with you. Roxanna because she was nice to you, didn't threaten you.

And him because he left you alone. But again, you would still sneak a glance here and there and he would too, but was more subtle about it. You never noticed.

But that's all. He didn't speak to you on a regular basis.

But that started to change, without him realizing.

"I've notice your interest in the Foxgloves. It can be used in the medicine field but that doesn't mean you can eat them. " he doesn't know why he attempted to start a conversation, especially so late at night.

He also doesn't know why he can't turn around and face you, undressing himself as well.

He's seen you undress before, even seen you take a bath (in which you hid your chest with your arms the first time, despite the bubbles covering it. But the longer you were married the less guarded you became in terms of nudity - after all, he never made a move. But you didn't try to seduce him either, didn't wear the lingerie you were given by his own mother as a wedding gift. And truthfully, he'd rather you not, the fact that she was the one who had gifted it to you made his skin crawl. No, he'd rather you choose a pair by yourself or even asked him what he would like to see you in).

There's a pause before he resumes.

"However, one of my brothers is working on making an edible version... For what reason, I don't know."

Why is he even talking to you?

His ears perk when you reply and he doesn't know why. It makes him uncomfortable.

"Oh... I see. I mean, I have been wondering how they taste for a while now... Not that I would eat them, of course." You sounded awkward, stiff. Which makes sense, as your husband barely interacts with you. But you don't sound scared.

He's disgusted with himself once he realizes that he feels relieved by it.

Your nights continue on like that.

And he started to become desperate to hear your voice. He lied to himself, of course - this wasn't possible. This had to end. But it never did.

Small conversations he would start, short, brief and straight to the point. But you never ignored them, ignored him. Because you were his wife and as his wife, it was your duty to listen to him. Talk to him if he so wished for it. Or stay in the background if he commanded you to.

Then, one day, you started the conversation first.

"Would you like a bath?"

By now, it was routine to help him undress, taking his jacket or shirt and put it in the hamper. Attempt to carry his heavy sword only to struggle with placing it on its stand. Or bringing him a rag to wipe his face with.

Doing things that a servant should have.

He hates how he likes it. Your attention on him, caring for him, even if it was out of obligation. Fuck, he hates you so much. He should... Kill you.

Yes.

If you were out of the picture, then everything would return to normal. He glances at his sword resting on its stand. But then he focuses on undoing his pants.

"... Have you bathed?"

Of course you did - you're already in your night wear. Your hair was still slightly damp and out of the corner of his eye, he could see your maid look at him with both caution and curiosity.

And you did the same.

You don't react negatively.

"Ah... I did... But..." You meekly looked to the side, weighing whatever you're about to say.

"But what?" He knew what you were going to say before you could get the words out. It was obvious. However, he just hoped his true motive (as idiotic as it was - you were his wife, he didn't need your permission to see you naked be it for sexual reasons or otherwise. But he didn't want to force you and it makes him feel sick - he shouldn't care, in all honesty. He was trained not to, so why did he) wasn't as obvious.

But you weren't stupid. And he liked that about you.

... He should really, really kill you, and soon.

But... He supposes he could think about this later.

"If... If you wish, I could help."

If this was in the beginning of your marriage you would have apologized immediately for assuming he wanted anything to begin with. Instead, you seem meek, shy even. Maybe your cheeks were heating up.

You've seen him naked before, but never touched him. And he's never touched you since the wedding.

"... I'm sore, today."

What a stupid excuse. A stupid sentence. This wasn't like him, it was stupid. What was wrong with him? Was he a school boy? Was he an idiot? He was Dion Agriche, a man with no interest, a -

He can't help but enjoy the way your nails scratch his scalp as you wash his hair. Or how gently you wash his back and he hate it. He hates you. He despises you, especially when you look him like that, especially when you treat him so gently. He doesn't need affection.

There was no use nor need for it.

But when your thumbs dig into a sore spot between his shoulder blades, just this once, he falls into temptation for something so useless.

Yes.

He'll think of a way to kill you tomorrow. Since you've been so nice to him, maybe he'll make it painless, as a thanks.

He doesn't need you in his life.

You make him soft.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Dion Agriche/Argece

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

✭- dark content/yandere

♡- fluff

♥︎- nsfw

❥- suggestive

♢- angst

✽- crack

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

➳Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister-in-Law!: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14✭♥︎

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

[snailsgoingdowntown]

I gave in for Actor! Dio

Actor! Dion agriche x camera operator! Fem! Reader

Ig technically speaking Dion is out of character?

Wil I ever finish this? Dunno. I wrote more than this (a few paragraphs) but I wanted to show this off lmao

CW: implied vaginal sex

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Just wanted to write something real quick to distract myself from the extra double charge word document did to me. Switching to google docs after I move my shit.

Part of arranged marriage au I'll add the link to the series list here later.

Yan! Dion x fem! Reader

He's out of character here so fucking bad lmao but I couldn't get it out of my head.

Warnings: implied future murder, Yan themes here and there, obsessive and possessive behaviors, promises of violence, one sided love

Warnings #2: breeding (not really a kink here but servant thinks so), unprotected sex, creampie(s), mentioned of multiple rounds, slight choking, reader takes it from the back, he bites the reader and draws blood, servant guy watches not because he wants to but because he was kinda tricked and did not enjoy it.

I don't condone harmful actions and thoughts.

Minors/blank blogs/blogs that don't reblog fandom stuff dni

Written on mobile after a long talk with customer support for Microsoft that barely helped please help me before I pull my hair out. I am not having a good time.

===

Once, there was a servant who quietly pin after you.

You were like a goddess to him - so vastly different from the rest of ladies and masters he's served. You were like a lost rabbit on your arrival, force smiles and light giggles, uncomfortable yet adaptable.

You barely made the mark, though.

Not that it matters- you were the sun in this clouded, polluted mess known as a 'family.' You stayed away from the means ones and kept the 'nice' ones at arms length.

You even treated Dion that way. And he treated you the same.

Didn't look your way often, or made requests to bring you to his room. As a matter of fact, he barely left his room if there were no activities he needed to partake in.

And the servant barely, if ever, sees you step out of your room too. But whenever he did catch you outside, you were in the library or having an occasional tea with either Roxana or Sierra and Maria. Whenever you were with the latter two, however, your smiles were tight and replys formal. Understandable, since Maria wasn't known for her kindness, exactly.

With Roxana, however, you would smile sweetly at times and at others you would avoid her gaze. But your admiration of her was clear as day - bright eyes and beaming smiles as you held in dreamy sighs.

There were also times you would run into Jeremy. Neither cold nor warm, the young master would tilt his head in confusion whenever you left. Why, he wonders. Did you baffle him with your personality? With how you were still sane despite living in this hellhole, married to the most brutal of all siblings, who's obsession with his younger half-sister is questionable at best.

But... Lately he hasn't been hovering over her like flies to honey lately. Must be a coincidence.

He didn't even visit your room!

Hana was the one who was appointed to serve you. He would try to sneak in a question about you here and there but her lips stayed shut. If anything, she looked at him like he was a crazed man.

After all, why is asking about a married woman? Whose husband is one of the masters, no less. It was unprofessional and dangerous.

He knew he was acting out of line but you were just so sweet compared to everyone else. You held small and short conversations with him but never mocked or ordered him around like a mindless zombie. You didn't play mind games, you were gentle with your words and occasionally laughed at his horrible jokes.

You were patient. Understanding, forgiving over the little things. Even the few times you saw lady Roxana's toy, you only offered smiles and held very brief conversations if no one of importance was around. If the servants weren't snitches. Like him, turning a blind eye because it was you.

It was risky and idiotic in hindsight. But temptation was one hell of a drug. But addictions eventually bites you in the ass as he would find out one sunny morning.

He was assigned to help you with preparations for teatime with your mother-in-law - the energetic demon known as Maria Argece.

He kept his mouth shut to not offend her, especially since she had taken a liking to you. Her eyes would beam with amusement and awe at the sight of you, possibly because you were the exact opposite of her son. The daughter she always wanted.

"Thank you for helping." You tell him, dark circles under your eyes. He bites back a frown - the sight was unslightly and a sign of poor sleep. Poor sleep means you could come down sick or even pass out if its severe enough.

He wants to tell you this but doesn't - not when lady Maria is standing right behind you, giggling as she prepares the tea cakes for you and lady Sierra.

His head would roll of his shoulders in an instant.

Still, he stayed as he was ordered to, and took a glance at you here and there. Fast enough for not anyone to notice, but long enough to admire your features. But your choice in clothing didn't make sense today.

Your neck was covered along despite it being hot day - and you don't usually wear the same types of dresses as your mother-in-law during this type of weather. Nothing as 'revealing' as lady Roxana but nothing as closed as Lady Maria.

Strange, he thought. But who was he to question your attire? You looked pretty in anything.

But the longer the tea party went on, the more and more hot holes were being stared into his back. With murderous intent no less - maybe it was someone jealous he got to spend time with you. Or one of the siblings who wanted to 'play' with him. Regardless, it made his skin burn as sweat drips down his face and neck. He tries to ignore, at first.

The first time the sensation stopped, he relaxed. Whoever it was had left, probably busy with one thing or another. But it kept coming back.

They kept coming back.

That same very day, he was told to follow another servant. It was blur.

One moment be was standing outside of Master Dion's door, and the next he was pushed by accident and fell, somehow opening the doors.

That's when he saw it.

Ass up in the air as your face was buried into the pillow, being taken by your husband. Sweat running down his back, red lines scratched into his skin. Even his arms had smaller ones.

The servant could see from the door just how damp his master's hair was - your drool soaked into the pillow as you bit it, muffling your moans. Cum was dripping from your cunt yet your husband just kept going.

Like he was a beast.

Slow strokes of his hips like he was taking your comfort into account, his toned arms caging you against the bed. His fists threatening to rip the sheets near your head as your own hands were under neath the pillow.

Your moans were muffled by the pillow and your husband was quiet save for the heavy panting and occasional degrading or teasing remarks directed at you. Those remarks only made your ass wiggle against him and whines that couldn't be properly heard ripped from your throat.

Like you were enjoying it.

Then, he sees the marks engraved onto your skin.

Bite marks and love bites that marred nearly your entire neck - even your shoulders weren't safe. The servant watches as Dion lowers his head to lick up a stripe on your neck, tasting the salty skin.

Then, he sneaks a hand to your front to gently choke you, bringing your head up. Tears streaming down your face the servant assumes that you're being forced into this -

"D-Dion, you're gonna break me, fuck!" You choke out, quivering as he nibbles your ear. "S-seriously, fu-fuck! I-I-I'm tired of w-wearing those clothes a-a-and not getting sleep!"

"It's fine," Dion raps out, hair falling over his eyes. "You can handle one more round, can't you?" The servant has never seen Dion desperate or tired yet here he is, exhaustion clear on his face and in his voice yet he refuses to stop fucking you and breed you like an animal.

Almost like he cant stop.

"No, no y-you always say that!" You argue back, and the servant sees your eyed roll to the back of your head as your husband angles his hips just right.

The hand that was holding your neck travels down your front until Dion's hand starts rubbing something he can't see. And then, with a squeal and hips stuttering, he sees you cum, squirting onto the sheets, dirting them further.

Your husband follows soon after, biting your shoulder until he draws blood, one last strong and deep stroke until he fills your cunt with his cum. The servant watches as he pulls out, the sticky white liquid following, dripping.

You become boneless, collapsing onto the mattress, worn out while dazed out of your mind.

Then, he freezes, blood turning cold.

His master locks eyes with him, murderous towards him and possessive over you, his wife.

The servant had thought the relationship between you two was distance. But he realizes something - Dion never left his room because he was breeding you or just spending time with you away from preying eyes just like his. And you? You never had a separate room to begin with.

Like swans, you two were mated for life. Obsession confused for love and naive little you just accepted it. Were you scared? Or did you genuinely wanted to be with the second worst sibling?

Dion Agerce.

He never got his answer.

Not when later that night he was dragged into the dungeon by the hair by Dion Agrece himself, no one around.

A sword was held against his eye rather than his throat.

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"W-what?" The servant's blood turns cold as his eyes widen in fear. The look in his master's eyes is anything but indifference.

"I should gorge out your eyes before slicing off your head. Maybe I'll let you live for an hour or two after blinding you."

The servant realized something before Dion Agrece kept his promise -

The mad man was always obsessed with you. He was too caught up in you to notice.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Hi. Do you have a tag list for “Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!” If so I wanna be added please. My blog is @tiny-mimi ^^

Actually I'll just use this as one. I made a poll and the one that won was 'yes'. If anything wants to be tagged in it just interact/comment on this. I'll start tagging people from chapter 12 and on

Remember Minors dni