yandere diluc is pathetic as hell omg😭😭 imagine his darling goes on hunger strike and he force feeds her and he’s just like “i knowwwww☹️☹️☹️just one more bite pls😔😔” whole time she’s screaming and crying
Y'all wanna hunger strike Diluc so fucking bad 😭 😭 this is my third ask about this same thing?? I'mma do it cause you whores are desperate though.
The sight of a full plate was one Diluc has grown scarily accustomed to in the passing weeks. Maybe a bite or two of food taken, just to sate him, and you'd sit in silence for the rest of the meal. The already quiet hour was even more deafeningly silent when it lacked the clatter of your cutlery, the sounds of your chewing. It was so quiet that even across the long, mahogany table, Diluc could hear the way the liquid slid down your throat with each big sip of the wine you took.
With your glass empty, you'd wipe your upper lip with a napkin, then remain stationary for the rest of the meal.
You, who seldom even spoke to the man, already made him walk in eggshells around you. Your temper was like a furnace, crackling and fuming, just waiting for the chance to burn him. So like a lot of flames, he kept his distance, and didn't speak when he noticed this new and terrifying habit blossoming.
Maybe you didn't like the food? He'd question himself. His muse, his desire, his flame, you were, you filled his thoughts even out of his line of sight. That fiery gaze of yours is why he loved you so damn much, the hatred in your eyes fueling a masochistic part of his brain. So that's why he was thinking of you now. Even though work was supposed to be the only thing keeping his attention, you still found a way to cloud his mind. The food wasn't up to your standards. That's why you weren't eating it. That had to be.
The next meal you were served was your favorite. Diluc watched with desperate eyes as yours stayed on your plate. He himself didn't even touch his own food, waiting for you to take the first bite. And you did. A sense of triumph and relief washed over him, he felt his shoulders finally relax as a weight lifted off of them, and even though you cared so little for his emotions, he felt a smile growing on his face.
But, soon enough your little mouse-like bites stopped. Your fork is placed back onto the table. You sipped down the wine in your glass until it ran empty. Your plate is still full.
From the looks of it, you'd only picked and eaten your favorite parts. A good start, but not nearly enough for you. Not nearly enough nourishment. Were you torturing him? You had to be. You didn't look smug at his sorrow, not happy, you didn't even look like you noticed his presence.
“Please…eat some more,” he hummed with a weak, pleading smile forcing its way onto his face. This was the first time he'd heard his voice bellowing through the dining room in…well, he couldn't remember.
It was clear that the unfamiliar sound startled you too. You met his gaze, something you hadn't truly done in months, and he felt his cheeks flush hot, like a schoolboy in front of his first crush. Just the sight of you was enough to make him almost forget what he's ordered you to do, until you spoke with that sweet, but venomous voice.
“I'm not hungry,”
Three words sending a stab of pain through his chest. Diluc felt his lips quiver at your statement. A lie if he'd ever heard one. You had to have been aware that Diluc constantly kept track of your meals. Even the ones you didn't share with him. How much you are, what you had for a snack, the amount of water you consumed. Diluc knew it all. As your husband, it was his job to know it all, and he knew that you should be starving.
“Just a few more bites,” he hummed, “It was made special for you,”
A shake of your head had him reeling, but he held his composure, though he could feel the metal fork squeezed tight in his fist growing noticeably warmer, almost burning hot.
“It's been days, you must be starving,” he sighed, exasperated.
“I'm not,”
Diluc loves you. He truly does. His heart, his soul, his eternal flame. And he knows that his love is there to keep you completely safe. You, how naive you are, to think that Diluc would ever let any harm come to you, even at the hands of yourself. His most precious person. The one he loves more than anything riches, more than himself.
It shouldn't be a surprise when he stands from the table and walks to your side. You know better than to run away, instead you sit stiffly in your chair, suddenly aware of how firm the wood of it is, like your mind is trying to focus on anything except the way you can feel his body heat as he kneels next to you. The way he smells like burnt cinnamon and you can hear his breathing, slightly heavier than normal.
When you finally do meet his gaze again, you watch his cheeks flush that red color once more, an affect you have on him that even you aren't aware of. Instead you notice the how his eyes are glossed over, like one blink will bring tears, and how his hand is gripping a fork ever so tightly. If you weren't acutely aware of how demented his obsession was with you, you'd think that he was planning to impale that fork right into your chest.
Diluc's shaking had used his utensils to pick up a scoop of your dinner, then holds it up to your lips. You can smell the savory scent hitting your nostrils, instinctively making your stomach rumble ferociously, practically proving his point, but you keep your lips sealed tight.
Diluc knows what's best for you, even if you yourself don't. He knows that he has to protect you, even if that means hurting you himself. The pain he brings you, is also to keep you safe. That's what he tells himself as he reaches upwards and squeezed your cheeks, his large hand nearly engulfing your face and still noticeably hot from the recent usage of his vision.
Your words are a muffled mess as you try to pull away and resist his touch, but you're nothing compared to his enormous strength. To the way the fingers sinking into the plump fat of your cheeks being pressed together so firmly forces your lips open despite your protest. He does his best to force the food past the entrance of your lips.
You want to spit, but it seems Diluc has already accounted for such actions. That same hand is now pressed over your mouth, sealing your lips shut…and the other closes your nose. Your eyes widen as you realize that you're unable to breath, thrashing in his hold that seems unwavering. You expect to see malice in his eyes, sadistic excitement watching you struggle and thrash. But all you see are tears. Cascading down his cheeks like a waterfall, salty wet tears drip down onto you. You'd be angry at the pitiful sight, if not for the lack of oxygen.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he whines over and over like a mantra. His meek apologies are a foil to the aggressive nature of his hands that you're clawing at with all your waning strength.
So you do as he wants. You chew. Then swallow. Noisily, so he can hear. Then he releases you, pulling his hands back like you're the one who's burned him. Sputtering and coughing, you glare at him, still apologizing to the point where the expression has lost its meaning. Not that you ever took what he said seriously.
“Please, just finish your food,” he mutters. Using the back of his hand to wipe away a stray tear. But there's a look in his eyes, regret of course, but also the determination that shows that if you don't do as he says, he'll repeat the same actions again.
WARNINGS: Abusive + Sadism + large age gap (you’re 19 and he’s over 40) + Abuse of vulnerability + stalking + Stockholm syndrome.
SYNOPSIS: You started working for Steve Raglan at his pizzeria. It didn’t take long for you to become his “favorite”—the sweet, fragrant, beautiful employee. Anyone who saw you would want to ruin you, and Steve was more than willing to do it in the most pleasurable way possible.
1.3K Words.
Too sweet, too pretty. That was you, a ray of light in that pizzeria, helping the staff take care of the kids with an enchanting smile on your face, so beautiful and innocent that anyone would want to destroy you—including Steve… But who would’ve guessed? He’s so kind and sweet!
“Hehe! Hey! Calm down.” You teased the excited kids running around like little kittens. They held your soft hand and begged you to tell stories or join their games. You were their favorite, their little angel.
“You’re our mermaid!” one girl shouted while spinning around you, singing and giggling. You laughed and played along with the children, always drawing attention with your bright, adorable smile.
Always well-dressed and smelling amazing, you’re just too perfect—way too perfect for Steve, who watched you from the hallway. He could wrap his hand around your neck and snap it so easily. You looked like a doll, so beautiful and fragile. Too sweet for his poison.
You didn’t notice his stare. You were too distracted playing with the hyper kids. How could you not sense the danger right beside you?..
The hours flew by and you barely noticed. Only when some staff members were missing did it hit you. Where were the cleaners? You said goodbye to the kids and teens. The other employees were leaving, but a few were still unaccounted for. You had to close the pizzeria, so you decided to go look for them.
You didn’t scream—it wouldn’t help. The place is huge; by the time anyone heard you, it would be too late. You’d just waste your breath and end up hoarse. You were already lost. Had they already left? You hadn’t seen them since snack time… After wandering for hours, you went into the kitchen to get water. You were thirsty. You filled a glass and drank, lost in thought, not hearing the footsteps.
When you turned around, your boss was standing right in front of you. You almost screamed in fright. He looked startled by your presence. A tiny smile curved your lips, and just as you were about to speak, your eyes dropped to the knife in Steve’s hand.
The blade was dripping thick, sticky red drops—like blood—and his hand was stained too. Your body froze. Your hand shook so hard the glass slipped and shattered on the floor.
“W-what—” you stammered, stepping backward, heart pounding wildly. He stared at you seriously. The gentle look and sweet smile were gone. It was like looking at a completely different man.
“You shouldn’t be here… little bunny.” His words came out rough and raspy, almost like an insult. He was angry. Your breath caught, goosebumps rising all over. The man you admired so much was a killer.
Your instincts screamed at you to run, hide, escape! But your feet were glued to the floor in shock, hand trembling nonstop, anxiety kicking in hard. When he took a step closer, you backed up and hit your ass against the counter. His huge body intimidated you. His cold stare felt like the night outside. You had to get away.
The moment he lunged, you darted under his arms, almost falling. Your heels clacked loudly as you ran. Your heart stopped every time you heard his footsteps right behind you. In desperation, you grabbed a vase with a rose in it and hurled it at his head with all your strength. His forehead bled; he roared in pain and dropped the knife. That was your chance.
You reached the door, small hands grabbing the handle—but it was locked. Only you and Steve had keys, and the one you’d left in the door was gone. He’d locked you in with him. Your whole body shivered. The only option left was to hide and grab your bag from the game room—you’d left it there earlier while playing with the kids. It was your only shot, and hope was fading fast.
To move quietly, you kicked off your heels and tossed them down the hallway, then ran silently through the corridors. You were lost—you barely knew the place, and it was massive. You’d need a map to find the rooms you wanted, but now all you had was luck.
While running, you started feeling sick. You needed to catch your breath, so you hid in a room full of tables, crouched down, and peeked into the hallway. It was too quiet—unnervingly quiet. All you could hear was your racing heart. Fear of death pumped through your veins, making you cry. You covered your mouth to muffle the sobs, eyes blurry with tears falling like rain. You crept through the hallway, terrified by the eerie silence. You needed your bag. You needed your phone!
You crawled along the cold floor, tears dripping onto the hand pressed over your reddened lips. You tried to stay calm, but panic was eating you alive.
Even alone, you felt watched—and it was driving you insane. You kept glancing side to side in fear, body prickling as if you were exposed.
When you finally found the game room, hope flickered. You ran to the corner—there was a little table where lots of moms left their things. But you cried harder. Your bag wasn’t there. He’d taken it before you could. Of course—he knew this place like the back of his hand.
Then you heard footsteps—close. So close your stomach flipped. You ran for your life. Hands shaking, soft sobs escaping your lips, you slipped into a room, opened the door, crouched behind it, hugged your knees, and tried to control your breathing. You closed your eyes and prayed your mom would call the police to find you.
“Little bunny…” You heard Steve’s deep voice echoing down the hall. “I know you’re here… When I find you, I’m gonna split you open.”
That made you cry even harder, tears streaming like rivers, panic making your small body shake, hand soaked from so many tears.
“If you think your mom’s gonna call the cops, you’re wrong, my sweet girl. I told them you wanted to help your boss with the kids… and that you might be leaving really late. Too bad you’re never going home…” He laughed—a sick, diabolical laugh.
“I’ve always wanted to ruin you, little bunny.” He stepped into the room where you were hiding. You did everything to keep your sobs silent. The quiet hurt your body with agony. Your eyes stayed glued to the door, praying he wouldn’t find you.
“I love seeing you like this… fragile, scared…” His voice was closer now. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block him out, but your gut screamed to open them.
“You look so adorable like this.” His voice was right there. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling watched. The door was still in place—but you still felt eyes on you. Your skin crawled. Something told you to look up.
There they were—his eyes and that crooked smile. It was over.
No escape left. You just stared at him, hoping for mercy. He grabbed the door and slammed it shut. Now you were completely trapped. No way out. No chance. Just you and your sweet boss. How could he be a murderer? How could the man who helped and welcomed you be a killer?
He grabbed you by the hair, making you whimper in pain. You tried to fight, to struggle, but it was useless. He was merciless—unlike you. He threw you to the floor; your body curled up, fear written all over your face. He smiled. He was turned on by all of this. His forehead was crusted with dried blood, and the metallic smell made you nauseous.
He knelt over you. You sobbed, too weak to fight anymore. It was over—you’d been caught. He lifted your legs, hooking them around his hips, expression cold and serious. Your vision blurred from crying so much.
“Let’s play a little game,” he said, pressing the knife to your throat. You froze, legs trembling. He leaned in, grinding his hips against you, his hard cock rubbing your panties.
“Please… d-don’t kill me,” you whimpered, fresh tears falling, the cold, bloody blade pressing into your skin. “I’ll do anything.”
“I’m not gonna kill you… yet. Cooperate with me, and I won’t.” He slid the knife down your chest, forcing it through the fabric of your dress, nearly slicing your skin. The center of your breasts was exposed.
“I’m gonna fuck you. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll cut your head off. Got it?” You nodded frantically—not caring about sleeping with your boss anymore. Anything was better than dying. But let’s be honest—who were you kidding? From the first day you saw him, something ignited inside you. You just always thought he was way too old for you, and you were just an inexperienced girl.
Steve started tearing your pretty dress apart, revealing your pink panties with the little bow. Lucky for him—you weren’t wearing a bra. He set the knife aside, leaned down, and licked your adorable breasts. You gasped. You shouldn’t be enjoying this—he was going to kill you! Why were you getting turned on? His beard tickled your soft skin; you trembled beneath him.
He licked and sucked, trailing kisses along your collarbone, up to your neck—sniffing, marking you with hickeys. Your hand gripped his strong arm; even trying to hold back, you let out approving moans. His other hand slid down, squeezing your hip, pressing your body against his. You felt the thick fabric of his pants grinding against your damp panties.
You shivered. He was rubbing himself on you in the most painfully good way. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to contain the arousal. It was wrong—but it felt so good.
He noticed you were into it and risked kissing you. His thin lips crashed against yours roughly, possessively. You moaned into the kiss, feeling forced. He slapped your face lightly to make you kiss back—and you did. He devoured your mouth like a starving animal, hands roaming every inch of your body as if claiming territory—squeezing, scratching. When he pulled away, your lips were slightly swollen, cheeks flushed.
You stared into those dangerous eyes full of malice. He gave a crooked smile and buried his face in your neck again, sniffing, beard grazing your skin, making you tremble. Soft, whiny moans escaped you. He trailed wet kisses down to your stomach, then to your soaked panties. He pressed his nose against them, inhaling like a perverted teenager. You moaned in surprise. He licked over the fabric, savoring your innocent taste.
“I could get addicted to you…” He hooked a finger under your panties, pushing them aside. His lips kissed and sucked your swollen clit; his hand gripped your thigh hard, making it spasm with every lick. Finally, his long tongue pushed inside you. You moaned loudly, grabbing his hair, forcing his face deeper. You rolled your hips against his mouth, arching your back.
“Awn, s-sir… Hmn~…” you whined needily, squeezing your thighs to keep him there.
He was amazing at it—his tongue exploring your walls. You bit your lip; it didn’t take long before you came undone in his mouth, screaming in pleasure, body spasming. He drank every drop, not wasting any. You breathed heavily, dizzy, brain not processing right. Steve pulled back and started unbuckling his pants. You watched nervously. When his thick, erect cock sprang free, you drew your legs up—it was huge. Your tiny entrance could never take that monster.
He laughed and forced your legs open again, ignoring your limits. “I promise it’ll feel good, little bunny.” He positioned himself, gripping your hips hard. His other hand guided his cock, forcing his way in. You whimpered at the discomfort between your legs. Your walls clenched around his pulsing length—it hurt, but being filled felt so good.
When he finally bottomed out, he groaned low. His hand squeezed your waist with bruising force, like he wanted to break you. You shivered as he started moving slowly—pulling almost all the way out, then slamming back in, making your bodies collide. You moaned loudly when he hit your cervix. His hands trembled; he thrust harder, hips slapping against your ass. You cried out, head thrown back.
He sped up, making you see stars. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure; your breasts bounced with each brutal thrust. Steve groaned low, watching you writhe. Tears fell from your eyes; sometimes you choked on your own moans. It was too much—you were probably going to come again.
You grabbed his forearm, nails digging in. “Ahw more! Please, Steve!” you screamed, climax so close, back arching in ecstasy, tiny muscle spasms everywhere. Steve watched hungrily—he loved seeing you like this, his little girl struggling with these overwhelming feelings.
He leaned down, burying his nose in your neck, sniffing and licking while letting out rough moans.
When you came again, your body went limp and exhausted. He kept pounding into you brutally; your walls squeezed him even tighter. You closed your eyes, crying. Your clit throbbed with every thrust. You wanted to rest so badly—but that would be selfish; only you had come so far.
He leaned in and licked your tears. You looked at his flushed, sweaty face—wasn’t he too old for this? You grabbed his shoulder as he pounded harder. He crashed his lips against yours, panting, tired, thrusts getting sloppy—he was close. You wrapped your arms around his neck, whimpering in pain during the kiss. His lips desperately searched for yours; the kiss felt good, made you want more—but you whined when he bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste mixed with saliva.
After a few clumsy thrusts, he finally came, filling you with his thick cum. He didn’t pull out right away—he stayed inside, catching his breath. For a man his age, he needed a few minutes to recover.
When he finally did, he looked at you with pure lust and satisfaction. He toyed with your nipple, then slowly pulled out, watching his cum leak thick from your reddened entrance.
His big body collapsed on top of yours, pinning you down. He grabbed your waist and buried his face in your neck, sniffing and biting.
“You’re mine now… I’m gonna keep you locked in my basement.” He panted, licking your neck like a creep. You had no strength left to fight. You were a mess. So you just closed your eyes, sighed, and accepted your fate. Now you’d be his favorite little toy.
I have a fansly! I post more explicit stuff (not consistently) and there's over 400 pics and 60 clips already up from before I paused it 3 years ago to enjoy :)
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