gentledomcas

[secretly-a-catamount]

Opps, I accidentally on purpose wrote body horror | Malcabel WIP

   Wearing laughter, complacency, and lies, drawn tight around her like a cloak or a shield: Annabel Blackthorn was dead.

  White hair and purple eyes and a whisper of her name as the last words on his lips, she had died months ago when they had looped a noose around Malcolm’s neck.

  She had died, but her body still wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She had died, but her body did not rot in the grave, did not decompose under the crust of the earth. She had died, but she had not swung — they would not let her. Her family had been ruined from when she had tried to flee with her beloved, a suicide would be inconsolable to their reputation.

  So they had arranged for her to be married to her cousin and shut away in one of their houses far away from Cornwall, far away from even Idris, as if she were mad, as if she was dangerous, as if she was deadly.

  They were right, of course, one of the few things they were ever right about. And they didn’t even know that they were right, they underestimated her, they always had, that would get them all killed.

  She was the mad girl — and she was a girl, barely past eighteen — who shattered a looking glass with her coiled fists and used the jagged-edged shards to cut lines and whorls into her skin. They took away everything sharp after that — at least away from her, a Shadowhunter family never being able to not have weapons on hand.

  She was the dangerous girl who mixed rat poison in her sister’s wine. This sister, youthful and kind as she was, had been the one to sell out Malcolm and Annabel to their parents, had been the one to release the wolves who tracked them down, had been the one to physically restrain her when they executed Malcolm. They fired the rat catcher after that — wrongly thinking he had committed the killing as a product of jealousy from being born a Mundane.

  She was the deadly girl who, when the party was over, when the sky was as black-and-blue as the the bruises her cousin left on her thighs and hips and arms, straddled her husband, fitted her hands to the curve of his throat, his pulse beating beneath her fingertips, and squeezed, a Strength Rune etched on the deceptively delicate-looking wrist hidden underneath one of her billowing sleeves. She did not know what they would do when they found out — she did not intend to live that long.

  Thrashing like a netted fish, he clawed at her fingers and her hands and her arms. His cries for help were silenced into choking wheezing gasps as he blindly drowned in her blood.

  He fought. Annabel fought harder.

  She lingered for a moment, a ghost tiring of the weight of its own flesh, before slipping to the floor. Billows of dust rose from where her bare feet had struck the floorboards.

  Caught in the flat pane of glass that shone silver in the moonlight, her reflection belonged to something that was certainly not human, but was certainly her.

  Accentuated by the nearly translucent quality of her skin, greenish-blue eyes perched on jutting cheekbones and peered out of an almost mask-like face sitting atop a sylphlike body with starkly cut hollows and lines. Her black hair clung to her form like a funeral shroud, twisting around her in the same way that the roots of a tree would twine around a skeleton buried at its feet, the slender tracery of veins was visible at her wrists, neck, and the corner of her lips like blue cobwebs, and the angelic brands of the people she was born into and never choose seemed to float above the surface of her skin — Marks that were deeper than black on something that wasn’t quite white.

  Lowering her hand, she slowly brushed her bloodied fingers with their torn quicks against the gaudy fabric painstakingly embroidered with Runes and wolves and wheels of flaming eye — the dress was ruined, tattered, torn, a skin that she had never been able to make fit quite right any more than the supposed superiority over Mundanes and Downworlders she had been born with — and crossed soundlessly over to the window, her bones aching with the familiar desire to split through her skin and clatter to the ground like dice in a fortuneteller’s cup.

  Her uneven breath fogging the already cold surface, she pressed her forehead and scarred palms against the glass, and closed her eyes.

  Something more akin to the snarl of a wolf than the smile of a young girl on her wedding day, she pulled her colorless lips back from each other, revealing far too many teeth and too-long a tongue that got cut on sharpened points and jagged edges whenever she spoke.

  Blood blossomed in her mouth as she asked a question.

Once it was answered, it was easy enough to leave her room and stalk down the hallway, with a Night Vision Rune carved onto the side of her neck and a Stealth Rune carved onto her shoulder, two more shades of red staining her body and dripping to the marble floor.

[toxic-potions-productions]

How does Zakiko have a descendent? Let's talk about it

So, I thought about this last night & figured I got nothing better to do since I started blood week & I'm too lazy to draw. So, let's do some ✨lore dumping!✨

Grab a snack, cuz this is gonna be a ride

I'm just gonna put some disclaimers & TWs here now! There's mentions of arranged & forced marriages, death, abandonment, light manga spoilers, violence, & just overall not the weak of heart. You have been warned -----------------------------------------------------

The late Sengoku era was here. Zakiko was already a half-demon, Michikatsu was missing & presumably dead from the demon slayer mark, & Yoriichi had died from "a demon attack" when he was old & brittle & "helpless". Zakiko was the only one still around. & she HATED it. She missed them so much, & all she wanted was to be left alone.

People were getting wed off & arranged by this time, & Zakiko was in no mood to be wed off. She outlived her parents by this point, so there's no way they can sell her off anymore. But, she can still be picked by others. & that would be horrible. So, that basically means she avoided every proposal & offer like the plague. They were all men, & Zakiko was not one for a man to be wed off to. None of the girls at this time really caught her eye, either. Guess she was really independent, or just really picky. Either way, Zakiko kept to herself knowing this was all going on around her.

But, eventually, her nightmare happened.

She was chosen to be married to the current emperor's son after taking the throne, & birth a precautionary heir. Zakiko was livid & chewed out EVERYONE involved, including the son, but she was still forced into this life she didn't want. The son wasn't exactly the most horrible person, perse, but Zakiko still despised him for letting this happen. He really tried to make her comfortable, but she dismissed him every single time, knowing she was angry at everything for this happening. But, despite knowing this wouldn't be the happiest of marriages, he still wanted to at least give her a chance.

So, a marriage later, Zakiko eventually had something growing in her. Something that was absolute HELL. She wanted to get rid of this baby by any means. She's good with kids, but being forced into a life she didn't want, a husband she didn't want or love, along with a new life growing she didn't like already was killing her. To make things worse, she was worried if people would know she's a half-demon this way when the baby comes. She didn't even know this could happen to her at all now that she's a half-demon.

Her "husband" tried to pamper her, care for her, & tend to anything she needed, but she continued to berate & belittle him just for her own protection & putting this responsibility on her. He grew to love her by this point. Zakiko only grew darker & hated these royals even more. Wishing death on them every single time.

She tried to get rid of this every time, but it was all in vain, as they eventually made it into the world. A healthy baby boy, completely human.

While Zakiko was relieved to see no signs of being a half-demon from this infant, she still resented him & her "husband" for this. This isn't what she wanted, this isn't what she needed. She just wanted to be with her actual loved ones again. Yoriichi & Michikatsu never would've let this happen if they were alive.

A few days went by, & Zakiko was exhausted from everything. From the delivery to the current events. She continued to stay there, purely due to how exhausted she was. But, knowing this was essentially her life, she knew she had one thing left to do.

She needed to get out.

She hates the fact she pulled the same stunt Michikatsu did, but it was all for her sanity. She had to leave. She needed to leave.

So.....She abandoned them. Her newborn, her "husband", her royal title, every single part of her life.

Her husband really begged her to stay, but it all went on deaf ears. This was around the time where she was finally perfecting Michikatsu's moon breathing, too. Guess being his Tsuguko was alot more helpful than she realizes.

When guards tried to stop her, she had already snapped & was too far gone. So, if they wouldn't let her leave, she'll force them to make her leave. & that's what she did when she had a stolen wooden sword in hand.

When they charged at her, she finally broke. & did an outward slash to try & shove them off. But, it ended in blood.

"Moon breathing! 1st form! Dark moon evening palace!"

The first moon breathing form she ever truly perfected. & she was actually delighted despite the accidental massacre. This is when she concluded to using his breathing style much more & perfecting it immensely. & with that, she was gone. & her "husband" & son never saw her again.

Her husband continued to raise his son without Zakiko, but he was so heartbroken from not only her absence, but from not a single ounce of reciprocation from how he really felt of her. Nothing.

He eventually died from esophageal cancer. Leaving his son to dismiss his new title & just live peacefully as a commoner. He still occasionally visits his old royal temple, but after knowing what his mother did, he didn't want to live there anymore. Since it reminded him too much of her. He never met her. But, he also somewhat glad he didn't. When your mother leaves everything behind when you're only a few days old, that really tells you alot.

But, Zakiko was just gone. Vanished into thin air. When in reality, she was finally at peace, genuinely a bit happy despite Yoriichi & Michikatsu not being here anymore, & dove herself in head first to moon breathing & practicing it constantly. & eventually, she forgot all about her old life.

Little did she know that this would ultimately lead to a chain reaction of events. & X-amount of years later, her descendent would be born. A shinobi with pink hair, living out in the entertainment district in Yoshiwara, who willingly chose to be arranged to the best kunoichi of this time. The second one arranged after another man with fluffy yellow hair & before the last one with black hair escaping his own wealthy lifestyle.

A split copy of her personality wise, in more ways than one.

Senko Matsumoto.

-----------------------------------------------------

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN

Okay, sorry for cooking too hard. I had alot of fun writing this Told you the triggers would be there for a reason, I'm not responsible for anything!

I'll put mature things on this in a few hours, so read this while you still can

[cheesecakethots]

geto having a cute little non-sorcerer wife that he swears he hates.

he only marries you for your father’s riches, and so when you arrive on his doorstep he leaves the maids to tell you where you’ll be staying; the room furthest from his own.

you’ve been instructed not to so much as look at him, but he finds that he hardly sees you, anyway. you’re more like a ghost that haunts the manor than his wife.

most of the time he’ll happen to pass you sat alone in the garden, dressed in pretty kimonos that have most definitely been suited to his tastes. he hardly speaks to you, the only time he has was when the two of you had accidentally bumped into each other when turning a corner.

“watch it, monkey,” he had hissed, before continuing on with his day. he later found himself thinking on the nervous expression and faint embarrassed blush that had adorned your face. he had been tempted to smash his head against the wall to rid himself of the memory, as it plagued him the entire evening.

your father starts visiting and he has the basic decency to at least pretend as though he loves you. it results in awkward proximity and unloving kisses to your forehead, at least until your father leaves.

for some time, geto’s not entirely sure as to why you play along. you could go to your father and ask to leave this loveless marriage, could you not? then it dawns on him; your father doesn’t care, and you already know that. geto doesn’t like how a tiny part of his chest aches when he thinks too hard about that fact.

it’s not as though he leaves you locked up in some basement, withering away. you’re allowed to explore most of the manor, most of your needs can be met by asking the maids and very rarely he will permit you to visit the nearby town marketplace with some guards.

he starts seeing you more. he’ll sometimes find himself out in the garden, pretending that he has any business outside other than to keep an eye on you. he’ll never admit it, but it can sometimes calm him down, just watching you go about your day. to him it’s like watching a pet trot about, not realising their owner is watching with keen eyes. you’re still just a useless monkey, of course.

one day he discovers you crying in the garden you love so much. he’s never seen you cry before, hell, he’s hardly seen any emotions on you.

“what happened?” he finds himself asking before he can stop. you jump in your seat, not having expected him to be beside you.

“nothing, really,” you say, your voice still shaky and your hand wiping away at drying tears, “i’m sorry to have bothered you.”

he frowns, his patience quickly wearing thin. “tell me, now. what happened?”

you sigh, and some part of him can’t help but note how pretty your eyes look, despite the redness around them. he pushes the thought out before it can properly settle.

“my father sent me a letter,” you confess. “he’s… not happy with me.”

he steps closer to you. “why?”

you hesitate, your mouth opening and closing, but the expression he wears has you telling the truth.

“he wishes that i was pregnant with your child. i have told him that i am not, and never will be, and he… well, he’s not happy.”

suguru raises an eyebrow. “never will be… ?”

you blush, looking to the floor. “i know that you hate me. it may be easier for you to have a child with another.”

he scoffs.

“i don’t-“ geto pauses himself. “do you really think i’m the type of man to have a bastard with some whore?”

“w-well, no, but-“

“do you wish to stay married to me?”

you gulp. “no. i don’t.”

he pauses for a moment, seemingly considering something.

“if you give me a child, i’ll allow you to leave. you’ll still be married to me in name, but you won’t have to stay here, and you won’t be tethered to your father.”

your jaw drops for a moment, and then you collect yourself. “will i be able to see the child after i give birth?”

“sometimes,” he tells you. in reality, he doubt he’d ever let you near them, but you don’t need to know that.

“… okay.”

he finds it harder to convince himself that he hates everything about you when he has you beneath him, your ankles on his broad shoulders and your hands pressing against his back. he can’t help but fuck you even faster when hearing you whine and mewl. he wants to lick the expression you have off of your face, but refuses to indulge in the idea.

“su-su-suguru!” you cry. he stills inside you for just a moment. it’s the first time he’s ever heard you say his name. he was beginning to think you had forgotten it.

he grabs onto your wrists with one hand, pressing them above your head and manhandling you into another position, one in which he can somehow go even deeper than before.

he chuckles, low and raspy, “stupid fucking monkey…”

he’s starting to wonder if maybe he needs two kids. maybe four? hm. maybe you do have your usefulness. maybe he shouldn’t let you go, after all.

[getodrools]

warnings. yan! true form sukuna, implied non/dub con: ( forced marriage and pregnancy ), kidnapping.

All of them looked at you.

You recognized those faces. And you tried to hide from them behind the mighty stature built of an abundance of muscles and cursed energy…

But, all of those familiar faces contorted differently, some not knowing how to react; some gaped wide as others felt pity when you were shoved in front of the king by those large hands you grew to loathe.

That cruel and selfish thing held a wide wry smirk as your body — so frail, yet heavy with a large bump wobbled embarrassingly and tired ahead… You couldn't bear to lift your crown to confront them, too mortified. Yet, they couldn't see that attempt, you only looked too weak to try in their eyes…

You felt it in your heart, deep down they had a sense — they knew what was going to happen soon as he left with you.

As much as they forever wished for your safety and honored your valor of vengeance, carrying on your name as the savior when Sukuna swore he'd seize havoc if he got what he wanted — to marry you and earn an heir, he'd settle with leaving all merciful. Leaving behind the chaos he caused and settling far from their territory with the only promise of you.

You remember that very doomsday when he held you with two bloodstained arms — blood of your own comrades who fought with all their might… weak legs dangling in the smokey air as flames erupted from buildings and screams begrudged through the entire city, you remember scraping at the tough skin, seemingly unbreakable, but in hopes he'd release you, you tried unduly before you could end up with no head… But fighting with the last of your might, you swear to this day you could still feel that very cruel squeeze to your sides as he stalked the others with ease, cursing a promise out you had never expected to hear, truthfully.

Almost all warfare seized. They all looked just as disgusted as they do now, just how they were watching the way you shivered when Sukuna’s leather-like tongue lapped over your neck to the whole side of your face as he panted out those very words you toss and turn from every night,

“Take too long to give an answer, I’ll kill another. Or, I will set ablaze to everyone if you don't.”

There was no winning.

Leaving with you far beyond the horizon and years to come, the people you once called family and friends were never to be seen again.

Sukuna wasn't as surprised as they were once they found his concealed empire plagued with cursed energy. He didn't even care, he already got what he wanted and they couldn't do a single thing about it. They knew that very well too.

Especially seeing how you lived now.

They tried to prepare themselves though, knowing his ruthless acts were to be brought upon you once you agreed — you didn't need to, but for the sake of countless lives and for the ones you cherished, you sacrificed yourself, a single life, to him without thought, and now you harbor a dreadful wedlock and bear a child.

Yuji’s face was the worst. He felt disgust and outrage – you poor thing. He couldn't imagine what you've gone through, especially now as you carried a half-being inside of you. Something mixed with the King of curses genes brewing into something undoubtedly revolting, something he couldn't conjecture how you had to submit to such monstrosity to get this far…

Megumi steps back, “Y/n…” You flinch. You haven't heard your name in years, only the title of being Sukuna’s wife dug a deep scar into the tissue of your brain.

Even the other members flinch.

But now, they had their eyes on you for long enough and Sukuna grabs your shoulder to reer you behind him again, right where you belonged.

“Interesting seeing you all.” The king stood tall; a pair of strong arms crossed over his chest as the others waved around smugly.

They knew his strength and didn't want to erase all the disarray you've went through to save them once, so they stepped back, cursing themselves as they did. Crossing boundaries they never thought they'd see, Sukuna knew it would be idiotic for them to waste your life if they dared to overstep it.

They couldn't do that to you.

Waving them off, “She's expected soon,” Ryōmen smacks his lips, keeping his chin up high and all eyes low as if he wasn't already towering over them, “Once that's out, she’ll be busy on the next – as promised.” You shiver, huddling behind the only thing you grew to get used to — so to speak, forced to.

Clinging to his side, you barely peek through his arms to catch their faces once again, but oh, how much you've missed them… Too repentant, weary eyes only tremble at the floor they creaked on, and the further they got, the longing to run alongside them and to be free worsened…

You squeeze your belly.

Shoving your ridden face into his naked back as your husband continued threatening them with your life, you remind yourself this was worth saving them�� even if…

… You still needed to give him five more.

PINNED ・ JJK MASTERLIST ・ RYŌMEN SUKUNA

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Diluc x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Diluc’s need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.

MDNI.

Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*

—————————

“Just one kiss. Please, darling.”

“No-“

Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didn’t mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.

You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.

Diluc’s arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didn’t like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.

Today though, today was different. You didn’t mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.

Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.

Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your “stay” you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.

Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.

You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.

…Clearly your touch was not unwelcome.

Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.

You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.

You suddenly felt very nervous. Diluc’s blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.

A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.

Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.

You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Diluc’s mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.

What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.

You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.

“Diluc?” You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.

“Hot,” was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.

You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.

Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it had previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in.

Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.

You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.

—————————

[konigsblog]

more arranged marriage between reader and farmer!könig, please? 🌝❤️

tw: arranged marriage au, rape/non-con, forced impregnation and breeding. dead dove: do not eat. 18+ tell me if i missed anything. 🔞

your parents knew it was harsh to arrange a marriage with the farmer of the village, although, they cared more about his money and wealth and status around the village, how you'd be viewed as his pretty, little wife, respected and admired by those around you.

that's what they want you to believe — that it's for your own sake — but, a part of you is aware that they're doing this for könig's money, as he pays them to keep you by his side. for könig, this is everything he's wanted, whilst you avoid him like the plague and dismiss every attempt when he tries having sex with you.

farmer-könig spends ages on the field, harvesting the fruits and vegetables whilst you hide inside, ignoring your arranged husband. könig attempts to please you, to make you happy, but eventually, he's left without a choice but to take the old-fashioned route and have his way with you regardless...

he'd drug you, get you intoxicated enough where your mind is easily shaped and you're a pliant plaything for him to use for an hour or so, his obedient wife waiting on him, to be torn apart and pierced with his hung, musky cock. the smell of his sweat and musk was a scent you were all too familiar with, smelling it on him after he'd arrived home from the farm, sweat running down his forehead. you could smell it against his neck as he lowered himself onto you, his weight holding you down and the scent of alcohol coming from your breath.

his large and calloused hands began moving as he wasted no time at getting what he pleased and yearned for. könig's fingers ran up your back, unclasping your bra and removing it to see what he craved, the essence of your sweet arousal leaving könig insatiable and hungry. he couldn't wait any longer, as he gripped your breast firmly and began to suckle at your hardened nub, your nipple perky, hardening as he rolled his tongue around it. you mewled and moaned drunkenly, cunt leaving your panties wet, huffing and puffing with confusion, and your drunkenness leaving you exhausted and weak.

his other hand began to sink into your panties, and into your sopping wet hole. he could already feel how slick you were, along with how tight you were — he almost felt guilty for doing this, knowing you'd be aching and in agony the entire time — but, his dick weeped and twitched inside his boxers as he rolled his bulge against your clothed cunt. his lips popped off from your nipple, your eyes wide as the cold air against your sore nipple, causing goosebumps to spread along your body, and the wet sounds of your pleasure audible as he thrusted his calloused, thick fingers inside your cunt.

his fingers began to pull your panties down, revealing that glossy cunt that he longed for — that he dreamed and fantasised about. the slickness looked delicious to könig, who couldn't help but free his large cock from his boxers, springing out and hitting his lower, muscular abdomen as he began to push inside, one hand gripping his base and the other spreading your slit open for easy access. your folds latched onto him almost instantly, eyes wide with shock at the ache and pleasure between your thighs, the force of his meaty girth leaving tears rolling down your cheeks.

your chest rose and fell quickly, back arched at the throbbing sensation of his thick dick pushing deep inside of you. könig couldn't control himself as he felt himself grow and drool inside of you, tip leaking with pearly, milky beads of arousal, your eyes glistening with tears at the painful stretch and uneasiness. something was nagging you that this wasn't what you wanted, that something was wrong — yet, you ignored these messages and signals running through you, his hands on your wrist restraining you as he fucked himself hard into your hole, thrusts becoming merciless and sore, the tip nuzzling against your cervix.

tears ran down your face at the sight of your cunny swollen and stuffed with his hot, bulbous cock, heaving and looking around dizzily, feeling the sudden sensation of his tip spurting into you, weeping hot loads of his milky arousal into your pussy, with the hopes of impregnating you.

it's not as if you could stay away from him whilst pregnant; you would need guidance, support... everything was working the way he wanted it to go, and poor you, left defenceless, with his potent seed filling your cunt ‘til a bulge formed in your stomach. :(

[morikasan]

His Little Wife

Summary: The thought of losing his beautiful student makes him realize his plan sooner… To marry you. With or without your consent, you are his.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — Yandere Gojo, fem! Student reader, nicknames, size kink, age gap, forced marriage, Gojo is obsessed, teacher x student

He could not bear it.

You were with Megumi all the time, at recess, in class, even after school. Seeing you with him was unbearably painful. Why didn't you look at him the way you looked at Megumi?

Why didn't you see his feelings? Because he was your teacher? Oh no, he didn't care.

Morality was not in his rules. He didn't care that you were his student.

He cared about you so much that he never sent you on challenging missions; he followed you home to ensure you got home safely. With all that, why are you doing this to him?

You were laughing with Megumi in front of him in class; were you trying to make him suffer?

He can't take it anymore.

He can't stand you ignoring him.

There must be a solution.

Oh yeah, he was going to marry you. And since you're his beautiful wife, you won't go to that school.

After all, he's the strongest and can always protect you.

He knows you are too young for marriage, but he doesn't care. He can't bear to see you with the Megumi any longer. And when you finish school, what if you become lovers with him? Worse, what if you marry him?

No, no, no, no.

He can't take that risk.

He'll arrange an engagement as soon as possible, followed by a wedding. The higher-ups will know.

And as for you. He doesn't care what you want.

School was already over, and you were walking home sweetly. Ah, you were too cute even walking.

Unfortunately, it was very dangerous for a pretty and lovely girl like you to walk alone at this time of the evening.

That's why he was following you, to protect you from anything that might happen to you.

He's a very thoughtful teacher, isn't he?

But you still didn't like him, and he still didn't understand why. He was young, handsome, rich, and the kind of man many women chased after and longed to marry.

But you still didn't love him.

Maybe that's why he was in love with you; you were hard to get.

Finally, you got home, went inside, and closed the door slowly. And he was in front of your house.

Yes, he was.

This day would make everything clear.

He walked slowly towards your house, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. After one minute, you opened the door, and a smile spread across your face when you saw him.

"Ah, welcome, Sensei!

he smiled

''Greetings, Y/N-chan! I wanted to talk to you about something if you don't mind…''

His heart raced as he saw your smile. God, you were so cute for your own good. Your beautiful smile melted his heart.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Of course, Sensei." You replied, stepping aside to let him in.

When you entered the living room, Gojo sat on the couch and looked at you. His look was very different from a normal one, but you didn't mind—after all, he was your teacher.

"What did you want to talk to me about, sensei?

He smiled, took a deep breath and started talking

''Y/N-chan, you know I love you, right? Sensei always wants the best for you.''

You tilted your head to the side. Did he love you? Of course, he did. He was your teacher, after all, and every teacher loves their students, right?

''Y-yeah... Sensei always takes care of me."

A grin appeared on his face. He gently tapped his hand on his knee and gestured for you to sit on his lap.

''Of course, Y/N-chan. Now, come here''

The look in his eyes darkened, did he want you to sit on his lap? But that would be inappropriate... You started to get scared

Your heart raced, your mind conflicted as he gestured for you to sit on his lap. You hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"Umm... Sensei, I... I don't think that's a good idea." You stumbled over your words, your embarrassment and fear clear in your voice.

''Come. Y/N-chan.'' he was like a completely different person, he was smiling, but his gaze was frightening.

You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat as you looked into Gojo's now fierce gaze. Your body trembled, scared of his sudden change, but something about him made your heart race even more.

"Y-yes, Sensei." You hesitantly moved closer, slowly climbing onto his lap. Once settled, you looked down, keeping your gaze from meeting his.

"Good girl. Now let's get to the point. In a little while you'll be my wife.'' he said with a wry smile on his face as you sit nervously on his lap

Gojo's words caught you completely off guard.

"What? Wife?" You exclaimed in shock, your eyes wide with surprise.

You started to panic inside as you realized the situation you were in, his strong arms quickly wrapped around your waist, keeping you secure on his lap.

"Be calm, Y/N-chan. I can't have anyone else near you, and the best way to protect you is to marry you. Is it so hard to understand?" Gojo's voice was now stern, demanding obedience.

"I-I don't... I don't unde-"

You were cut off by Gojo's lips pressing against yours.

His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like you were drowning.

He was kissing you passionately, his grip on your waist tightening further.

You tried to push his head away, but his strength was too much for you to handle.

You tried to scream, to resist, but his lips were too firm.

You felt like you were trapped.

When he broke the kiss you tried to get off his lap in a panic, your body tingling, you were scared. You didn't want to get married yet, especially not to your teacher. It was so wrong.

''Let me go sensei, please let me go! A-And a-family won't let you—''

''Your family? Haha, how sweet of you, Y/N-chan.''

while you were trembling in his lap, one hand went to your soft, silky hair, stroking it as if soothing a dog and he said with a amusement smile on his face

"Your parents have already given up on you. They just threw you away in exchange for some money. Do you think they really love you? Do they care about you, hmm?''

You were shocked, you froze. with one hand in your soft hair, he leaned down slowly and whispered in your ear

''I'll tell you, they didn't give a shit about you. They gave you up for money and fame. I'm sure they're like, "Oh, our sweet going to marry Gojo Satoru, the most powerful sorcerer in the world, the leader of Gojo clan''

lie. lie lie lie lie lie

Your parents couldn't have given up on you. You didn't want to believe it

''If they really loved you, you would be with them right now. You're a high school student, but why do you live in a rented apartment instead of with your parents? Have they ever supported you, hmm?''

A torrent of tears flowed from your eyes, and your heart ached with the thought of your parents willingly giving you up.

"N-no… that's not true. My parents would never do that… t-they love me-" You argued weakly, your voice cracking with the force of your emotions.

you rested your head on his chest, you couldn't stand it. you started sobbing like a child. And he was stroking your hair.

"shhh, don't cry, pretty girl. From now on you don't need anyone but me.''

He kissed the top of your head, your body still shaking from crying.

''The higher-ups reacted positively to this marriage. Thanks to our technique, they think you and I will create a lineage of tremendous power. Ah, as usual, the old geezers only care about lineage.''

Your tears soaked through his clothes, and he continued to dote on you, his hand now caressing your backside in a way that made you uncomfortable.

Your delicate body tensed as his lips touched the top of your head, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

"I-I don't want to marry you."

Your voice shook, the fear and helplessness you felt oozing through your words. ''Please, Sensei, let me go.''

"I don't want to get married to you." You mumbled into his chest, your voice muffled by his jacket.

With these words, the smug grin on his face disappeared, and a dull expression took its place. With the hand that had been stroking your hair, he took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.

''How much do you think I care about your consent, Y/N-Chan? You'd better stop this spoiled behavior, or I might not be so nice next time. Do you understand?'

You were scared; the way he looked at you was so cold. You missed your old sensei, the one who looked at you with soft eyes and that warm smile when he explained something you didn't understand.

You nodded quickly, swallowing hard to stop your sobs.

"I-I'm s-sorry."

The fear in your eyes was palpable, and you nervously clung to his clothes, your body shivering.

''Sensei... I promise I won't resist anymore.'' You whispered, your voice quivering with fear and sadness.

Gojo released his grip on your hair, and you fell forward, your face buried in his chest again. You could hear his heartbeat, rapid and robust.

''Good girl.'' He murmured, his voice softer now

''Now, we're going to the mansion. I can't wait to show my beautiful wife her new room!''

The cold man who was looking at you with dull anger just a second ago has returned to his cheerful demeanor.

He grabbed your small hand and dragged you out excitedly.

W-wait, sensei!" You called out, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"I-I need to pack my clothes!"

 he just waved his hand dismissively and continued walking.

"Oh, those old stuff? Forget about them. I'll buy you new ones. My wife deserves the best." Gojo said, his voice was cheerful

You were silent as you followed behind Gojo, your mind racing with the implications of what was happening.

You couldn't believe it.

You couldn't believe that your sensei, your teacher, your idol, would make you his wife.

You didn't know what to do.

You didn't know what to say.

You were completely lost.

A week had passed since you were taken from your school and your life, and you were still struggling to adjust. Your room, though luxurious, felt like a cage, a place where you were confined.

The thought of your former life made your heart ache, the memories of your school and dreams of becoming a wizard now shattered.

You wondered why Megumi hadn't contacted you, a flicker of sadness burning in your chest.

Why didn't he come looking for you? We were friends, wasn't he worried?

You were supposed to get married after hours…

The time of your marriage loomed, and you sat on the bed, your eyes drawn to the exquisite wedding dress. It was the epitome of elegance and grace, but it represented something you never wanted.

Your hand reached out to touch the silken fabric, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

Tears welled in your eyes as you recalled everything that had happened. The betrayal from your parents, the inaction of Megumi, and the forceful marriage to Gojo Satoru, a man you looked up to as a teacher.

But it wasn't what you wanted.

Everything hurt; your parents throwing you away like garbage, Megumi not looking for you, and… the teacher you admired forcing you to marry him.

But there was nothing you could do

This was your new life, and you had to get used to it…

You inhaled deeply, steeling your resolve as you took hold of the wedding dress and began to put it on. It clung to your body, the fabric smooth and sensual against your skin.

Before long, you were fully dressed, the gown cascading around your feet like a cloud of snow.

Gojo entered the room, his gaze fixing on you. A smile curved his lips as he admired your appearance.

"You look stunning, Y/N-chan." He complimented, his voice a seductive purr.

He wrapped his hands around your waist, pulled you closer, capturing your mouth in a soft, deep kiss.

The sensation of his lips against yours sent shivers down your spine. His nose brushed against yours, and he whispered, 

"God, you look so beautiful, Y/N-chan... I can hardly keep myself from taking you here and now."  He whispered against your cheek, the hunger in his voice unmistakable.

You flinched at his words, your body stiffening.

Gojo's hand slid down your side, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"P-please, sensei—" you stammered, your voice barely audible. "We still have the marriage ceremony."

Gojo chuckled softly, the sound filled with a mixture of lust and amusement.

"Okay, okay, pretty girl." He soothed, releasing your waist to take your hands in his.

A warm, affectionate smile softened his features as he met your eyes, love clearly etched in his gaze.

"Then, let's not keep our guests waiting any longer, shall we?"

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

You followed Gojo, your hand tightly gripped in his, as you left your room and went to the ceremony.

The wedding ceremony had been long and draining, leaving you physically and emotionally exhausted. You stepped into your room, the door closing behind you, and your heart began to race

This was the part you feared the most.

''I love you so much, my wifey...''

Gojo's large hands slipped to your thin waist, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he began to unzip the wedding dress. It fell to the floor, the silken fabric pooling at your feet, revealing your lingerie.

His eyes lingered on your exposed breasts, his gaze hot and hungry.

''You're more beautiful than I ever imagined...''

Gojo removed his jacket and shirt, revealing his well-built chest. He let the jacket drop to the ground with a heavy thud. He then guided you to the bed, gently pushing you down onto it.

His mouth found the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and kissing as his fingers worked to take off your lingerie.

His voice was low and seductive, the words sending chills down your spine. "You don't know how long I've dreamed of this moment, Y/N. Touching your beautiful body, feeling your soft lips, and being able to call you my wife..."

His breath was hot against your skin, and the anticipation of what was to come quickly became overwhelming.

You squirmed beneath him, your innocence and inexperience leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. Your heart raced, a whirlwind of fear and confusion churning within you.

"Sensei..." You whispered softly

Gojo's hands paused in their task, his head tilting slightly as he gave you a confused look.

His smirk deepened, his laugh echoing through the room. "Now now, No more formalities. Don't be shy, I'm your husband now. Call me by my name~"

Gojo's words were confusing, but his tone was insistent, coaxing.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat.

"S-Satoru..." you whispered, barely audible.

Gojo's smirk turned into a smug grin. "That's my girl~"

Gojo moved even closer to you, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"Now, kiss your hubby."

His breath mingled with yours, and you could feel his warm, minty breath against your lips.

You felt a shiver run through your body as you anticipated his kiss.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss rough and hungry, his hands moving to your breasts as if discovering new treasures.

His mouth claimed yours again and again as the kiss deepened, his fingers expertly playing with your sensitive nipples, the pleasure making you squirm under him.

"You taste so good, Y/N-chan," he purred as he broke the kiss ''Ah, if Megumi touched those soft lips, I'd probably kill him. No one can touch what's mine.''

He trailed a finger along your jawline, his touch lingering, his eyes dark with desire.

"I'm going to make you scream my name, Y/N-chan."

He kissed you again, the kiss growing rougher, more desperate.

"Right now." he growled.

His fingers left your breasts, trailing down to your belly, feeling the soft curves beneath the fabric still adorning your body.

He gripped the waistband of your underwear, tugging it down with a feral grin.

"Spread your legs for me, Y/N-chan. Let me see that sweet, pink pussy of yours."

The raw lust in Gojo's eyes left you trembling, unsure of what to do. He wanted you to expose yourself to him, to submit to his desires.

His free hand slid between your legs, his fingers trailing over your wetness.

"You're already wet for me, aren't you, Y/N-chan?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

You let out a soft, uncertain moan, your legs trembling as Gojo positioned himself at your entrance.

"Sen—...Satoru... P-please be kind, I-I've never done this before."

Your voice was small and shaky, betraying your nerves and innocence.

Gojo looked down at you, his eyes softening briefly before he shrugged. "I can't promise, little one. I need you so bad.''

He pressed forward, his cock sliding into your tight, wet entrance in one swift motion, your hymen popping, accompanied by a pained moan from your lips.

"Ah~" you cried out, tears glistening in your eyes.

Gojo's hands tightened on your hips, his face twisted with a mixture of ecstasy and concern.

"Fuck, Y/N-chan. You're so tight."

He waited for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his invasion before he began to thrust deeper into you, drawing loud, primal moans from his lips.

"I'm going to take you, Y/N-chan. I'm going to take you and make you mine," he gritted, his pace quickening.

His thrusts became more urgent, his eyes dark with need, your cries of pain and pleasure mingling in the room.

He bit his lip hard, his hips bucking, driving himself in and out of your tight, quivering body.

"Y/N-chan, look at me," he demanded, his voice guttural, "Look at me, and scream for your husband"

His fingers gripped your hips painfully, and he rammed into you, his cock pulsing, filling you with his essence as he came inside you.

You caught up in the raw intensity of the act and opened your eyes, staring up at him. Your expression was a mix of pain and surprise as he claimed your innocence.

His thrusts became more urgent, his eyes dark with need, your cries of pain and pleasure mingling in the room.

He bit his lip hard, his hips bucking, driving himself in and out of your tight, quivering body.

Gojo felt your tense body begin to quiver under him, your cries intensifying as your cunt stretched to accommodate his throbbing cock.

"Ah~!" you cried out, your voice tinged with pain, your eyes pleading with him as he ravaged your body. "Slow~ please slow~ it hurts."

"fuck, Y/N-chan," he groaned, pulling out of you slightly before thrusting back in harder.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice strained. But I can't... Nh~! Just hang in there, okay, sweetie? Your husband will make it up to you."

He continued to thrust into you relentlessly, his hips slamming against yours with a primal force.

"That's it, little girl, you're taking me so well," he praised softly, his voice laced with appreciation.

After minutes of pain, pleasure flooded your body, your beautiful pussy getting used to his cock, and the painful moans were replaced by small moans of pleasure.

Your back arched, your tiny body undulating beneath his, a newfound sweetness in the way his cock filled you completely.

"Who do you belong to, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock stretching you with each powerful stroke.

"S-Satoru~" you gasped, the words tumbling from your lips, your petite body bucking, the pleasure radiating from your core.

You were his, in body and soul, your virginity claimed by the sorcerer who loved you.

His pace didn't falter, his hips slamming into yours, his cock pulsing inside you, his own pleasure building, his gasps and curses mixing with the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing your neck, his teeth grazing your tender skin, their possession marking you as his.

"Mine." he growled, his hips bucking, feeling his release approaching, a primal need to claim you in every way bursting within him.

Your petite body trembled, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your pleasure building with every thrust.

Gojo's hand cupped your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple, pulling it as he guck you deeper and deeper.

"Y/N-chan, Come for me." he demanded, his voice rough with the need to feel you break for him.

The pleasure building until it crested and crashed, your body convulsing, your eyes wide and glassy as your climax took hold.

His own release followed hot on your heels, his body shuddering, his seed filling you, the insides of your quivering pussy embracing him

Gojo fell beside you, his breathing slowing as he took your tiny body in his arms. You were visibly exhausted, the intensity of the experience weighing heavily on your fragile form.

He gazed down at you, his eyes softening as he ran a finger along your soft, pink cheek.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N-chan," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to make it up to you. We'll go shopping, buy you all the cute clothes you want. We'll have fun."

He knew it was all too sudden for you, all these changes. This marriage and the others... But he couldn't bear to spend another day without you.

The need to make you his, to possess and cherish you, had consumed him.

And the moment he saw you with someone else, that desire increased tenfold.

He held you close, your soft breathing a sweet sound against his ears, and vowed to himself that he would protect you.

He'll do anything to make you fall in love with him. You will get used to him, to this new life, to being his wife, and you will love him as he loves you.

After all, he is Gojo Satoru

Fumi: like, write comments, and reblog if you liked this writing, sweetheart ♥

[lapisdeiii]

"your desires,my darling?" Are you serious 😃😵‍💫🫠😳😇 AnyWAY. Your first Zhongli HC was... intense. Would you like making a second part for.. the general public 🤭 Im sure everyone would appreciate it

𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗔𝗥 𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗬 𝗭𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗜 𝗣𝗧 𝗜𝗜

SYNOPSIS : y'all asked and i am delivering again!! since you lovely gems liked my first sugar daddy zhongli headcanons, i'll just give you some more <3. these will have the same tags !! 

WARNINGS : dub-con , manipulation , isolation , forced dependency , financial abuse , gn reader used, daddy kink. forced marriage. nsfw themes

A/N : i do not condone irl yanderes . if you are ever in a situation like this, talk to someone immediately .  goods underneath lol

zhongli loves you, desperately so. he wants to keep you by his side, perhaps even marry you. he finds that he cannot even dream of a life without you.

but, of course, a silly little thing like you wouldn't want to stay with him for long, and move on to the next thing. what's this? you seem to have taken an interest in a boy at your college? well, that simply won't do! daddy will just have to remind you of why he is the best option!

every night he spoils you, not with just the amazing times you have in bed, but to the perfumes or cologne he purchases. everything he buys you is meant for you and you alone

he'll take you at times to a fancy dinner, but they always end up a little steamy as zhongli takes good care of you under the table, playing with you and mumbling the nastiest things as his gloved hand grips your thigh to keep it from shaking as you cum for the nth time by his hand, and close to the final climax, he pulls away his hands and he whispers that when you both get home, he'll make you a crying and whining mess on the bed. a little treat for being so well behaved and good!

he keeps you in his penthouse. you understand, don't you darling? a man like himself always gets lonely without his little gem to hold and spoil every chance he gets.

you find that at your college, nasty rumors have spread around about yourself, that you are a no good gold digger. your room was trashed, and the door to your dorm was spray painted with nasty words! you run to daddy afterwards and he consoles you, his poor baby. you have no idea it was him that spread those nasty rumors about you, daddy just wanted to make sure no one got too close to you, especially those nasty frat boys and sorority girls!

he'll try to slowly coax you out of college, you seriously don't need that degree darling, daddy will just take care of you for the rest of your life. you worry about getting older and him not loving you anymore? oh sweet thing, he loves you more than life itself, no matter how old you get, daddy will always spoil you rotten.

he'll tell you in that deep velvety rich tone, how much he loves you as he finds purchase in your hips, deeply thrusting into you as you whine and beg for him to stop, your protests muddled with whines of pleasure and need

"daddy! oh daddy hng~! stop, i can't take it any more" you whine out softly, clenching bed sheets as zhongli thrusts hard and fast into you "oh my little gem, you'll let daddy have more right? yes darling you will, mm daddy is addicted to the way you feel" zhongli's hand slides under your chest and his thumb lightly traces your nipple. at this, you let out a sweet moan. "now, daddy wants you to cum a couple more times for me, oh yes.. such a good little gem"

zhongli is a traditional man, and of course like said before, he wants to marry you. he'll pick the perfect month, the perfect day. you won't mind that daddy is an auspicious man right? he wants to marry you at the perfect time, with or without you always agreeing!

he says your relationship is special, not like the other sugar babies before! to him, they are just play things.. but you.. you are his special little gem, the only one of his sugar babies to ever catch his attention and snare him down.

his dream is to have a child with you, move you to his mansion in liyue and keep you as his cute housespouse. you'll be happy with him, he's sure of it!

these headcanons are more popular than i thought lolol!! i hope you enjoyed my gems!!

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Daddy's Girl

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Tangerine can’t stand his little girl’s tears, especially when you’re the reason behind them.

WARNING: Forced/Abusive Marriage; Implied Kidnapping context; NONCON. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Make sure to imagine that lovely British accent of his, hehe. Also I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, but I wanna share this so bad :) enjoy!

--

The loud noise from the television travels to the kitchen, muffling down the sounds of the knife violently cutting down a carrot. Tangerine has a tight grip on the knife, a pissed off scowl on his face as he spits an unhealthy amount of curses. 

He’s so caught up that he misses the small quiet steps that run towards the kitchen and it’s only when there is a hesitant tug on his sleeve that he looks down, finding a small female miniature of himself, standing in her tippy toes in front of him as she raises her arms, her brown curls bouncing. 

He smiles at her, immediately picking her up, pushing the knife far away. Delighted giggles fill the kitchen as he tickles her. 

“What you doin’ here, princess? Are you hungry, sweetheart, cause lunch ain’t ready yet.” he kisses her cheek, his eyes glinting with pure amazement as he looks at Claire. 

His little angel. 

Claire’s laughter slowly dies down and she plays with the rings on his fingers. Her lip wobbles and when she finally looks at him, her eyes shinny with tears. 

It breaks Tangerine’s heart to see her like that and he wants nothing but to slap the shit out of you for making your babygirl cry. 

“I… I miss mommy.” her voice breaks as she starts crying. Tangerine sighs, hole burning in his chest as he gently pushes her head to his shoulder, rocking her in an attempt to calm her down. His hand rubs her back, her small body shaking as she sobs.

“Daddy, I want m-mommy.” she begs. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. But mommy still needs some time.” he tries to console her but to no avail. 

Claire cries for what seems like forever and when she finally calms down, Tangerine's shirt is soaking wet, the lunch long forgotten. 

It takes several deep breaths for him to calm down and although he wants to go see you so badly, he puts Claire to sleep first.

He tucks her into her pink bed, placing her favorite teddy bear next to her. A peaceful expression rests on her face, exhausted from all the crying and Tangerine kisses her forehead before leaving the room.

“She fuckin’ cried herself to sleep.” Tangerine shouts to your face, your scalp stinging as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Do y’fuckin understand that? She fuckin’ cried because of you. Cause you’re a fuckin’ shitty mother, that’s what you are.”

Thick tears fall down from your red eyes and you stumble back when he releases your hair, falling back as you trip on the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 

You fall butt-down, pain alastrating on your back but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t even compare to the deep ache in your heart.

You also miss her. So much. It hurts that you haven’t seen your daughter in a week, kept in the basement as Tangerine lies about you being sick.  

“All she kept saying was how much she missed you. That she wanted you to feel better so she could finally see you. Fuck!”

“I…I’m so sorry.” you cry out. Tangerine only glares at you, nostrils flaring up. 

“This is all your fuckin’ fault. You just had to act smart, didn’t ya? Fucking’ hell.” his hand meets the wall with a loud bang and you wince, burying your face in your hands, frightened.

You’ve never seen him this angry before. Not even at the few times you tried to run away years ago. For once you’re actually glad that the basement is sound-proofed so that Claire doesn’t have to witness any of this. 

You messed up. Baldly. You should have known better than to plan an escape from Tangerine. 

But you were exhausted. Deeply tired of playing house with Tangerine. As much as you love your daughter but you want a better life. For yourself. For your sweet daughter. As much as you smile and laugh, pretending to be happy and in love with Tangerine for the sake of your daughter, you had reached your breaking point. 

“You're a selfish little’ bitch, only thinking ‘bout saving your own ass.” he snarls. 

You shake your head, desperate. 

“No! That’s not- She’s my daughter too.” 

Tangerine stares at you for what it seems forever and you hold your breath, watching him with a runny nose that you struggle to wipe with the back of your hand.

His hands on his hips as he considers you, neck veins bulging. He runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated as he exhales heavily.

“If you really love her, you gonna fuckin’ behave from now on. And I fuckin’ mean it. No more fuck up’s.” he warns you. 

Blinking away the tears, you nervously nod as he slowly walks towards you before stopping in front of you.

“Ya mean it, right? Then fuckin’ prove it cause you’re not leavin’ this basement without provin’ me that you can do better.” 

Confusion fills you until you see the look on Tangerine’s eyes. With shaky hands, you reach for his belt but he moves your hand towards his shirt and your heart drops. 

Not this. 

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. You’re barely wet enough yet uncomfortably stretched by your husband’s cock as he slowly thrusts into you.

Given how angry he was, you were expecting him to fully rail you so you were surprised as he went at a slow, calm pace. Good for you.

His head is buried in your neck, low groans coming from him. It’s feel like an eternity as he fucks you gentle and deep till you lose track of time.

You suddenly hiss when his cock rams deep inside you, the thin old mattress softly squeaking under your combined weights. 

He pulls himself on his forearms, facing you as he starts to speed up, quickly slamming his hips forwards with a renewed force and you cry out, hands bawling the sheets. 

“S’ fucking’ tight, darling.” he husked, his sweaty curls falling to your face as he presses your foreheads together. “Gonn’ cum soon, fuck.”

His breathing halts as he fucks you vigorously, urgency in his thrusts. He doesn’t last longer, your velvety walls tightly squeezing his cock just the right way for him to approach his orgasm.

“Fuck, oh, fuck.” with a final harsh thrust, his body tenses up before finally relaxing. Tangerine releases a loud grunt, reaching his high while being balls deep inside you, his hands coming to grab your face as he connects your lips into a needy kiss, the bitter taste of cigarettes on him. 

When he lets you go, you release a shaky breath, feeling gross and violated with his cum beginning to leak. 

His nose touches yours, skin shiny with sweat and his blue eyes half-closed as he exhales, the warm breath hitting your face. He doesn’t seem that angry anymore, men really think with their dicks. 

“That was fuckin’ nice.” he smiles, his knuckles sweetly fawning over your cheek. “Maybe we should consider giving Claire a sibling. I think she’d love a baby brother.”

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

I Do

TW: Blood, bruises, and some angst

Ya girl has some off-days from college, and she's decided to use em. Missed y'all < 3

The villain's gloved fingers drummed impatiently on the table, his dark shadow looming over the hero with a promise of danger.

"What's it going to be, Hero? I sell those codes to Supervillain? Or you comply with our little agreement?" His tone was perfectly calm, eerily so, his eyes impossible to read behind the domino mask, but he still emanated danger, his lips drawn together in a tight line.

It was cruel calling it 'their' agreement because the hero had no hand in this. The suggestion had left her more shocked than angry, still reeling from the villain's words.

"Marry me," he'd said in a commanding tone. Like any other choice would've been the wrong answer, tilting her chin upwards ever so subtly.

And the hero held his gaze, transfixed, gasping and laughing and hoping this was nothing but a fever dream.

"Wha-" the hero choked out incoherently.

The villain had let go of her face, his hands resting on the top of her chair. "I can repeat it as many times as you want me to," he stage-whispered against the shell of her ear, his tone gentle and dangerous all at once.

"But, I don't understand. What could you possibly gain from this of all things? You despise me, Villain." She truly couldn't process any of what she was told, the mere idea of being tethered so bindingly to her worst enemy leaving her mind an ineffective, nervous wreck.

The villain huffed out a rough laugh, very genuine and horribly cruel. "Oh, but I do despise you. Very much. I despise how defeated and humiliated you left me in front of half the city . Despised the fact that you got me locked up. Despised how for the very first time, I actually felt like I lost the game, and I'm a rather sore loser, you know." The villain's demeanour was eerily calm, his shoulders straight, his resting face showing nothing but a placid neutrality as he turned to stand in front of the hero, but it was arguably more terrifying, more unpredictable.

"I just want to see you as defeated as I've been, Hero. Bound so intimately to your worst enemy, your greatest nightmare. If you do this, it means admitting to me, and more importantly, to yourself, that the only option you have is bending to my whims," he crooned, his lips curling into a wicked smirk.

The hero wanted to scream, to kick the villain in the teeth and watch the blood trickle down his lips and the bruising dye his skin a grotesque purple. She wanted to think of a clever solution that left the man's face contorted with a strange mix of hatred and respect, to blow his plan up in his face. Anything that would spare her this hell.

"Did I mention you have exactly five minutes to decide?" he piped up casually, examining his nails.

The hero swore and the villain let out a half-snicker. This was madness. A death sentence that would last for the rest of her life. And it didn't matter if she said no, if she undid whatever she could of the havoc those codes would wreak in Supervillain's hands. The conviction so heavily saturated in the villain's tone, the way his jaw clenched and his fists tightened was more than enough proof that he would spread more chaos, spark more fights, destroy an endless array of things and lives until she gave in to him.

The villain loved control like he loved the air he breathed, even more so, like a drug that left him intoxicated and lusting for more.

If she didn't listen, she was sending everyone she cared about, sending the city, the whole world if the villain had it his way, to hell.

The hero sucked in a measured breath, reading the contract word for word, from the title to the fine print, scouring it for a loophole she could use, for any more tricks up the villain's sleeve, just to find nothing. She tried to relax her tensed shoulders, her grip merciless on the pen in her erratically shaking hands, every curve and line of the letters of her name feeling like a blade was slicing through her heartstrings like how one would rip a stalk; slowly, unevenly, time seeming to slow down and the world seeming to freeze for a moment that felt like a thousand years and then some.

The villain didn't smile or laugh or let any display of emotion etch itself onto the harsh lines of his features. He nodded curtly instead, snatching the paper and folding it into a square and tucking it in a well-concealed pocket of his suit. "The cruelty only ends here," he attested, his voice tight and no longer playful, the way it was whenever he promised something.

The hero nodded, swallowing the humiliation at the back of her throat, even though she wasn't inclined to believe him.

"There's a ceremony. Nothing very insane, just you, me and an officiator. This is just a contract, not a marriage certificate, even if we both know which one of those is more binding. You'll show up today, if you know what's good for you, heroine."

The hero wasn't sure when she was up on her feet and slapping the villain harshly across the face, blood spurting from his mouth and staining his perfectly straight teeth, as he only grit them into a manic grin, shaking with a hoarse cackle as he wiped the blood of his face "Is that how you treat your husband, my dear? Do they forget to teach you manners at the hero agency?"

The hero was too dazed with rage to speak, trying to mar the villain's visage with another rough blow to it, until he caught her hand with an iron fist. "I said I'd never hurt you for nothing, but not that I'd let you do to me what you please without consequence. So play nice, darling." The villain let go of her arm slowly, the bruises he left in his wake more than enough of a warning.

The second he left, the hero didn't cry as she thought she would, she didn't scream, she didn't destroy everything around her or rip through her hair. Instead, she slid down against the wall, expressionless but breathing hard, her lungs hungry for air that seemed so unfairly little, her heart playing songs of anxiety and fury and sorrow every horrible emotion she'd ever known.

She was marrying the villain. Marrying the villain, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Marrying him and no one would come to save her.

Sometimes being a hero means saving the whole world except yourself.

✨️Timeskip✨️

Sure enough, the villain was there in a tailored suit, in front of his house her new prison, where he'd told her to show up, the officiator standing with a solemn expression on his face.

The villain wasn't supposed to be handsome, the dark brown hair she was normally used to seeing messy and caked with blood slightly damp with gel and mostly hanging in loose, luscious waves, his eyes a dazzling green-blue, long, dark lashes framing them in a way that put the best kinds of kohl to shame and his cheekbones sharp and high-set, the split on his lip hardly distracting from the rest of his appearance. It was so unbelievably stupid, so inconsequential, and yet the hero hated him even more for his tantalisingly beautiful features, for the way his grin would've fooled her into thinking he truly was in love, if she didn't notice how it didn't reach up to his eyes.

The hero hadn't paid any mind to whatever the officiator had said until it was her turn to say 'I do', flashing the villain a terribly fake smile that wasn't half as charming as his, but it would have to do as she slid a simple platinum ring on his finger, and he slid a diamond ring onto hers.

"Let's go," the villain said when they were finally done, gently taking the hero's gloved hand in his and leading her up the stairs and into the mansion.

The heroine was not one to admit defeat and snap in half in the fashion that a twig would. Many a battle would need to be lost for a victory in the war, many a sacrifice would have to be made for a greater reward. She would take the pain like stone would take a blunt pickaxe, just to twist a knife in the villain's chest when he least expected. Because history forgets everyone but those who laugh the last.

Tagging for this: @hufflepuffwritingstuff2

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[one-time-i-dreamt]

MrBeast kidnapped and married me.

[diejager]

Soooo, i have been thinking~~~ recall the stepdad!konig and dbf!horangi where they got reader pregnant and horangi took the responsibility for it? While i do know that they are tight knit buddy buddies and probably lives sharing reader with each other, what if horangi manages to trap reader into moving in with him and having a shotgun wedding? And because i’m a bit of a slut for angst - What if he becomes more possessive and decides that only he should have reader?. After all, konig already has his wife yet is still so greedy and going mad with jealousy

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, forced marriage, panic, possessive behaviour, implied kidnapping, marriage tradition, tell me if I missed any.

König drowned in anger, letting his vitriol consume him whole at the sheer audacity his best friend showed. How dare Horangi take and keep you for himself? Had he grown so comfortable that he could discard König like an old and rusted toy? He was a bumbling and raging mess throwing a tantrum in his office, ripping into the paperwork on his desk and throwing things around the room, screaming and physically pained. His heart throbbed at the betrayal, the agony Horangicaused him for taking your hand in marriage when he was left with a whore, unlovable and discardable —though you wouldn’t know, you didn’t know how little he felt for your mother. She was nothing but a stepping stone for him and Horangi to approach you without any suspicion. 

He attended the wedding, a traditional one, it would’ve been so beautiful if he wasn’t burning with envy. You were draped in silken cloths and fabrics, the bright and passionate red of your hanbok, sewn with flowery details and white and golden accents and Horangi’s navy blue, accentuated with golden strands and a impressive imagery at his front. Every part of it screamed traditional with it’s matching bride’s maids in white and lilac dresses, the tea table, the Jeonanyrye (a duck your mother received from Horangi), and the acts of Gyobaerye and Hapgeunrye that had bile rising in König’s throat. 

Truly, it was amazing to see you being wedded, dressed in beautiful garments, face powdered and cheeks flushed, you were angelic to look at, dripping allure and innocence that he wanted to corrupt and devour. He cornered Horangi after the first night, confronting him about his sudden act and decision to marry you. König wanted to know if this was Horangi’sfirst act of separation, to take things within his own hands to keep you to himself, but Horangi had reassured him that it was simply the first step to trap you for themselves. König wouldn’t believe it, his mind running miles and miles, without a single though in his mind that would help his or Horangi’s case. 

He knew he was increasingly more possessive than he used to, like the hold he had on Horangi when he tried making other friends, or the grip on you that he couldn’t let go. It was a monster that grew and grew in his body the longer he left it unattended, a vile creature with an insatiable thirst for things that he made his —his friend, his items, his mask and his little pet. Both he and Horangi were victims to it, their bloods running green and their eyes seeing red whenever another approached you, but König suffered much, much more than Horangi did. He felt like ripping into Horangi for binding you to him, but he’d regret it, killing off the sole being that understood him on a fundamental way.

“She’s ours, König,” Horangi promised, his course pads holding König’s face, the cool ring searing his cheek while he made König look into his dark eyes, “This is just to bind her to us, when her mother is gone, we can take her elsewhere, hmm?”

König blinked owlishly, his mind moving at a snail’s pace in this moment of frenzied fear, his breath caught the back of his throat when the vision of you in a white dress at his wedding with Horangi bringing you to the podium to marry him. It would seal your fate with them; albeit slowly.

“Ja,” König nodded, gazing into Horangi’s mesmerising browns, “Ja, you are right, Mein freund.”

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[oreolemur]

Useless Wife- Naoya Zenin Fanfic

Forced into marriage, you found it hard to bond with your new husband. His clan praised you for your beauty. You were the most beautiful trade a man could ask for. Your marriage with Naoya was forced, however, needed. Your clan and his, bumped heads for generations, and it was time to put an end to it.

The wedding was tense as your family and his, didn’t say a word. The honeymoon was awful, having been taunted by Naoya due to your lack of experience. “At least your pretty face makes up for your pathetic attempts to please me”, he said. He was always controlling, often forcing you to be subservient and quiet. As a woman, it was your job. As a wife, he made sure you were obedient. “Speak when spoken to”, he ingrained into your head. You’ve only been beaten twice, leaving you bloody and bruised. You tried to be brave and step up, but Naoya was stronger and bigger. He grew tired of you after a year. He no longer looked to you for sexual needs, only treating you as a special maid he shared a bed with, if you got lucky. 

Your servants’ cries filled the estate. They were your husband’s toys. It didn’t surprise you to walk into a room and see him rape their helpless souls. You didn’t dare to protect them, feeling useless and weak. Although he stopped fucking you, his hands still touched you. “What kind of woman are you? You’re a shit cook and can’t even suck a dick right”. Whenever you failed, he hit you. Whenever he saw you, your face became wet with his spit. He treated you like trash, not caring about your well being. 

Informing his father about his behavior was pointless. Naoya was just like Naobito, but less drunk. “He abuses me”, you said. “What are you doing wrong for him to act this way?”, he responded. As a father, he never scolded Naoya for neglecting you. Naobito only complained when an heir came into question. “Have you tried for children yet?”. Naoya’s response remained the same, “Her body refuses to bear a child”. He blamed you for the loss of your first child. You were 8 weeks in when you miscarried. Naoya saw that as a way to get back at him, so he beat you for it.

Your status as a wife was mocked. All the women in the clan made fun of you for allowing your husband to sleep with others. “A pretty face is all she’ll ever be”, they gossiped. You were alone. No one had your back, and you were sick of it. You wanted to prove to Naoya that you were worthy and can offer more. Hearing your servants cry was enough to make you upset. He was your husband and it was time he started seeing you as his wife again.

In your room, you waited. You spent the whole day preparing for your talk. You had a gut feeling he wasn’t going to listen, but you didn’t let that stop you from what you wanted. You constantly shifted from one spot to the other. “Breathe. Breathe”, you took deep breaths, hearing his footsteps get closer. You quickly sat on the edge of the bed, fixing your nightgown. Sliding the door open, Naoya entered, oblivious to your presence. He poured himself a glass of wine, chugging down shot after shot.

“N-Naoya”, you whispered. “C-can I-”. “No”, he interrupted. With his back still facing you, you decided to try again. “We need to talk”. He slammed the bottle down, sighing. “I want us to be a couple. I am your wife, therefore, I should be the only woman you-”. Glass scattered on the floor, having been thrown by Naoya. His hands were bloody as he looked at you. “Are you telling me what to do?”. You gulped as you tried to keep your composure. “N-no, I just want to be more useful to you”. He titled his head, staring at you with annoyance. “Useful? How can something be useful when it’s already proven to be useless?”.

His words hurt, causing you to shed a tear,“But I-”. He broke another glass, making him bleed even more. “Shut up!”, he shouted. Naoya poured alcohol on his hand, tending to his wound. You saw where this conversation was going, however, you weren’t finished with what you had to say. “They mock me and it’s all your fault. You’re unfaithful, yet you blame me. It’s not my fault you’re a whore”. The room fell silent. Naoya slowly turned around. His gaze was sinful, his eyes dark, and his intentions impure. He approached you, staring into your eyes. 

“Stand up”. You got on your feet, eyes facing his chest. He undid his robe, keeping his attention on you. Letting his robe fall, he caressed your face. “You’re right. I haven’t been a good husband”. Leaning in, he kissed your lips. You were shocked by his actions, expecting something worse. “I want to make love to you”. He took your nightgown off, proceeding to rub his hands throughout your body. His touch made you flutter. “Lay down”. Getting on the bed, Naoya gestured for you to lay on your stomach.

He grabbed your ankles, pulling you closer to him. You gasped, feeling his cock graze against your bottom. He spat on his hand, lubing up his member. Spreading your cheeks, he placed himself near your anus. He pushed himself, failing the first time. “Why are you doing it back there?”, you asked. He shushed you, adding more spit. Trying again, he still wasn’t successful. “I don’t think you’ll-”, your mouth fell open, stopping mid-sentence. Naoya rammed himself inside, grunting at how tight you were. Blood leaked out, traveling down your inner thigh. The pain left you speechless, tears forming in your eyes. 

He took hold of your waist, making sure every inch of him was in you. He thrusted hard, pausing between each hit. “Not bad”, he began to keep a rhythmic pace. Small whimpers left your lips as you begged. “I-it hurts”, you whispered. “Please take it out”. He chuckled, “You wanted this, but can’t take me. How pathetic”. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head back. You reached for his wrist, pleading for him to let go. He pulled out, pushing you back down. Scooting you up, he got on top of you, putting himself back in. 

Naoya was sadistic, shoving your head into the pillow. He rested his head on your shoulder, lifting it up some to bite you. He heard you scream, sinking his teeth in harder. Marking you, he felt his orgasm coming. “Fuck!”, he grunted. He let go of your hair, arching your back. Digging his nails into your soft skin, he spilled his load into you.

Getting up, he smacked your ass in satisfaction. He poured himself another drink, looking back at you. “Aw, don’t look so down. At least you got what you wanted”, he smiled. Glancing over at a lit candle, he picked it up, walking back to the bed. He traced your figure with his eyes, admiring the patterns his teeth made. “Did you enjoy yourself?”. You stayed silent, not able to move your lips. Naoya clenched his jaw, dripping hot wax on your back. “Answer me when I’m talking to you”. Wincing, you moved away from him.

He put his drink down, drawing his attention back to you. “Did I say I was finished?”. Flipping you over, he pried your legs apart, rubbing his tip against your clit. You twitched at the sensation, accidently moaning. Naoya was surprised by your reaction, doing it more. “I’ll ask you again. Did you enjoy yourself?”. You looked at him and lied,”Yes”. He smirked, shoving himself into your pussy. Moaning again, you covered your face. Your husband grabbed your arms, pinning them above your head. “Your pretty face turns me on when I fuck you”.

He kissed your cheeks, then your lips, and down to your neck. He sucked the flesh, leaving bruises. Your bodies stuck together like glue, feeling more connected than ever. You questioned whether or not you enjoyed it. You knew it was wrong, knowing that you were raped, but you craved his touch for so long, you began to like it. “If you want to make yourself useful”, he paused, looking into your eyes. “Then give me a son”.

[cheesecakethots]

hiii I came across your blog and fell in love with your yandere illumi posts!! <3 can I ask how you think it’d be like if reader actually WAS pregnant and forced to carry the child to term?? if ur comfy ofc!!

ahhh thank you!!

tw// unwanted/forced pregnancy, implied noncon, reader depression, reader su1c1de attempts. this is SAD. just SAD. minimum comfort from this. also you have a baby and you don’t like it

this is the worst possible outcome

i try and kinda base reader off of how i would react in that situation, and my reaction would be BADDDD.

the second you realise that you’re pregnant you’re already making plans to throw yourself off the nearest balcony or down the steepest stairs in the manor. unfortunately, illumi is going to account for this. he’ll probably realise you’re pregnant before you even do, and soon enough the whole manor will be “baby proofed”.

there’s going to be butlers following you every step of the way, anything sharp is taken from bathrooms or your bedroom, even illumi has started to cut your food up for you. it’s extremely demeaning and only settles to make things worse.

you’ll start growing quiet as the pregnancy progresses, first out of spite and then out of genuine sadness. as far as you think, you’re truly just a womb to illumi and his family.

illumi will notice how depressed you’ve gotten, but he’s not exactly a comforting person. he’ll monotonously give you compliments, silently hand you bouquets of flowers, and tell the butlers to prepare your favourite foods as though any of those things are what you want.

occasionally, if his worry starts to grow, he’ll allow you outside into the garden for a couple of hours. he’ll even arrange a little allotment for you to plant your own. you might not even like flowers, or gardening, but the distraction is nice. if not, you can still wander the grounds, as though it can give you some illusion of freedom. it doesn’t.

illumi tells you that during your visits to the garden you’re truly on your own; no guards, no butlers, no maids, and none of his family watching. it’s not necessarily true. he’ll be behind you every step of the way, hidden in plain sight. he once believed you’d start appearing happy when no one was around, proving that it’s all a rouse and that you’re fine. he quickly discovered it wasn’t fake when the first time he watched you in the garden you found a bench and cried on it the entire time.

he starts to convince himself that when you give birth to his child you’ll recover, and you’ll love them and feel less lonely.

you don’t.

the birthing is messy, probably due to your stress, and it’s the first time anyone in the manor has seen illumi so nervous. it may not be obvious to you, but to those who have known him his entire life, it is.

you don’t love your baby. sometimes you can’t bring yourself to even look at it. you know that illumi and his family are going to be training it to be as bloodthirsty and murderous as them, so you tell yourself that there’s no point in even bothering trying to grow close with it.

in all honesty, you’re in for a fucking awful time. illumi might get irritated with your lack of love for your child. he might think another will make you feel less lonely. only when you stop talking and stop reacting entirely does he realise that he truly has broken you.

i don’t really enjoy writing about reader having kids because it would be my worst nightmare. literally horrifying. that’s why illumi is so damn scary, he’s having a child whether you like it or not.

if you do manage to get rid of it before you give birth, illumi is going to be fucking pissed. expect yourself to be taken into the basement for a week, at the minimum.

best case scenario for this is that reader can’t have kids. fuck this shit.

i could potentially see illumi turning away from his family and their insistence for him to have a bunch of kids, but only if your pregnancy was that bad. if you almost died during childbirth, i could imagine him being extremely shaken up about it, and may not want to see you that way again. that a very big if, though.

[king-of-mortar]

Hero regrets it now, that self-sacrificing idiocy.

Don’t blame them, they expected Villain to kill them. Grab them by the collar, put the gun to their head, and pull the trigger. They weren’t to know their arch-nemesis would hold them by their hair like a trophy and drag them home with them.

They hadn’t expected Villain to lean them against a wall, still too dazed and surprised to move, and get on their knee with a ring pulled off their own hand. They hadn’t expected Villain to say, without a hint of irony, “Will you marry me?”

And Hero had, of course, replied, “This is the shittest proposal ever.” Because it was. Villain’s foyer was dark and they’d not switched on the lights yet, and the night outside was ominous and eerily quiet. “The atmosphere’s off.”

Villain laughed at them, and then said, their voice assured, “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it! You have to. You insisted on martyring yourself, so see it through.” Villain smiled, all teeth.

“Yeah, I’ll marry you,” Hero had said, like Villain was asking to borrow their phone charger.

And so now they have to marry them, and for once in their life, Hero has no idea what to do. This is ridiculous, they’re confused, and worse, they’re afraid. But maybe Hero will get lucky. Maybe this is all a ploy, some creepy short-lived fantasy Villain is only orchestrating to plan Hero’s murder. Maybe they’ll be lucky, maybe they won't have to.

But Hero’s going to have to come up with something soon, because Villain seems like the kind of person to do things sooner rather than later.