This is my reaction when I find a cool fanfic but don't look at the header. And then I realise it's unfinished and the last chapter came out several years ago.
Yandere! Older! Husband! Duke Seppra x chubby! Reincarnated! Young! Wife reader
Warning; mentions of edging, contract marriage, death , explicit content , sexual intercourse and imagery , mention of pregnancy
Authors note: It's been a while right??
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Because of your previous life, you had learned a bitter truth early. Love and romance was rarely kind to women who did not fit the shape it preferred.
You were clever. Creative. Chubby and soft by heart. But you never got to experience real love . But you have had stopped resenting it long ago. Resentment was tiring. You got into the hobby of writing... And not just anything, you were famous smut writer .... A virgin one...
So when you died... and woke again in a world of silk dresses, noble titles, and suffocating expectations, you did not panic.Reborn as the only daughter of a powerful high noble, you inherited wealth large enough to silence scandal and a family name strong enough to end arguments before they began. You were raised indulgently, often called spoiled, often dismissed as haughty.
None of it mattered. Your father loved you. Your wealth was unquestionable.
Marriage, however, waited like a quiet threat.
Men approached you with practiced smiles, voices polite, eyes never lingering on your face for long. They looked instead at your lineage, your dowry, your father’s influence. You noticed it every time.
You made friends with Camilla at the academy, soon she understood that your may have rude tongue but your were too soft for your own good at heart. To the people you stamped as yours, you were like open book, unfiltered ... You spent money on her and her family like water.... You were the epitome of spoiled but not rotten.
Then she came to know the secret... That you are the mysterious writer who writes and publishes the scandalous smut series that made the whole kingdom's women swoon. The graphics and the words that even the maids have bought and hidden the copies under their pillows.. the plots that even made the nobel women blush and faint just after reading.
You made promise with her that she would not tell anyone, she quite liked you that's why when you blurted out your master plan to escape from the relentless wooing of the scheming noble men to marry you she was shocked.
You wanted an old man who was rich and stable so that other nobles won't raise questions and who already have good name and enough heirs that he won't want more. Your would marry them for 5 years, enough for you to pass the right marriageable age and then divorce with the rumour that you were infertile . A nice slow cut and even better if somehow the husband died... That way no one would try to woo you again.
You looked like a little chipmunk while you told her about your plan while gobbling the cookies you bought for her. She had so many men in her mind... Her both father's, adoptive and biological both fits the criteria well and you would be able to stay with her under the same roof too. What would be better than this?? And about love... Both of her father's would eventually fall for you... But you rejected the proposal saying you don't want to be her mom.
She was sad, she wants to be a family with you.... But then another evil idea popped into her mind. It was evening and sixth time that Arsian had tried to beat a junior to death just cause they used Camilla's name. You were nagging him that how he is eventually tarnishing Camilla's name. When he suddenly said .
"Gods woman.... Stop it now... I understand.... What are you!? My mother??"
And you smirked and said “Maybe I am."
He studied her for a long moment. “Are you?”
She laughed. “No. But imagine how unfortunate that would be.”
Arisan visibly shuddered at the thought but this conversation got stuck in Camilla's mind.. you can't marry her father... But you can marry Arisan's can't you?? Plus it would be good you don't want to have kids but you would be having Arisan's adopted brother to look after for.
A kid to spoil , an ignorant husband, you happy and she can visit to meet you at any time!! She meet with Duke Seppra , before telling you. Not to say Duke Seppra was ok with it cause that only meant that due to you in his house Camilla marrying his son would be more easier. You were introduced to him by Camilla, you selected him.
You were quite pleased, you circled him, asked him even play chess with him.. then you presented the contract, you had promised Camila not to tell him about the divorce. Cause he had a small kid.. what if the kid thought it was because of him?? So with all the content with part that you would divorce him after 5 years effective immediately if you wouldn't be able to give him children that you haven't told him... You became his official wife.
Your father after so many threats to either kill himself. Or burn the royal family if they didn't stopped the marriage and giving you too much money as dowry, saying that the old man, your husband, seems poor; he accepted Duke Seppra as you husband.
You were too sweet for someone monotone and stoic as him. His oldest son barely talked to him the youngest son was soft and now a soft wife who barely talks. You spent your day in academy or shopping or spoiling his youngest or nagging his oldest. You do have tea times with him, but it was only when he worked.
It was a month since your marriage and neither he entered you bed chamber neither you tried to ask him. You don't have womanly hobbies as he had seen but you do wrote a lot . He never ask what the documents were, again he was never a good communicator. And recently he got two devices to make by and anonymous client through Camilla.
One was as it was told to him throught the letter sent by the person who commissioned it a sexual gratification toy for women named vibrator and the other was a voice message transmitter, that can be wore in ears. The detail for both devices provided were very professional and he was busy in the production on the sample .
This was the first time he thought of you as Camilla had asked him if you had ever talk to him about sleeping with him in same bed. He entered the room after knocking . You were outside in the garden he got to know after he entered the empty chamber and saw you through the window having tea with his youngest in the garden.
He opened the window to cool himself and get a better look at you, but the air blowed the paper that were on your table . Bent down to lift them up when the writting caught his eyes ... It was the same as the anonymous genius who sent commissions for the two mana products through Camilla.
But the paper were... Stories or entries?? He read one and his face went absolutely red.. throat dry. It were entries about him??? He read..
"God he looks like greek god made with care... How can girls swoon over young inexperienced men when you can definitely get a man as great as him...."
" His hair looks so soft and sexy... All i want us to pull at them as he fucked me roughly intonthe bed!!"
"I get wet every time he looks over at me even for a second."
"Oh my god! oh my god! He asked about the dress he sent me yesterday.... I wanna keep wearing the dress for the rest of my life!!!!"
"TT I can't even tell him how much I want him.... He is so cute when he can't converse!!"
"I've been so patience with him... I wanna ride him till he is dry.... "
He was hard as hell , you never showed that you liked him that much!! You never layed your eyes on him more that for a sec.. you always kept your eyes low as if he disgusted you. He was a setting the papers back on the table when he noticed the copy of the blueprint for the commissioned devices, by anonymous. He saw, smirked and left the room .
From that day on he started paying special attention on every thing you would do.. he started to notice the way her body would stiffen when he asks her something, then the way her ears would turn red when he comes closer to her.. or the time she stared at the meat he cut for her with adoration, with the goosebumps on her skin.
He tried to get more of her cute reactions out of her.. the way she shudders at his touch.. how soft she looked how she pouted at him.... Today he even took her out on a picnic date... She looked genuinely happy he was sitting near her snoozing form he lowered to look at her face closely, Arisan was playing with Rio.
You felt his warm breath and your eyes shot open . You pushed him away in a panic. Your soft hand didn't do much to hurt him. But the way you scurried to your feet and left. Arisan was staring and him with frown and disdain. He doesn't know what he did wrong to icked you out so much. He was still pondering on it when Rio came running to him.
"Mama said she would leave soon..... Where is she going papa?? Is she going because I'm adopted ??"
His mind had gotten numb suddenly, after listening to the small sob from Rio.... You are leaving?? Why??
It was a mistake you didn't know Rio was nearby. You were taking walk with Arsian when he asked you if his father is treating you better cause he was a bit sceptical after he saw you run from him at picnic.
"Ah it's ok... I'm guest here anyway... Five years and I'll be gone. No one would remember me anyway"
You have said it out too loud ... Rio who had came to have pastry with you heard you . He hugged your legs tightly. Where are you going?? Are you leaving daddy ?? Why are you leaving??
You were bombarded with all types of questions and the worst he was sobbing even listening your answers.. and then when you tried to lie that you were just joking he ran to his father. You didn't thought much of it... Well now that the contract was already signed.. there is nothing that can be done and it's not like the Duke is even interested in you.
Wrong...
He had never entered your room without knocking, without any prior notice, not at night, not looking like a wreck....
"I heard... That you are leaving??? "
You looked away at the the door to balcony as if that door was going to answer his questions.
"Arsian told me about the 5 year plan and the thing you haven't told me about while signing the contract... It was your plan all along?? To leave?? "
"It was already in the contract you just didn't read them carefully.."
"Is Rio no one to you?? Was your affection fake?? Am I nothing to you???"
"We will talk later... You need to rest.."
"No i don't.. you doing to tell me everything or .."
"Or what??? Our marriage was only a contract from the start... It's not like you married me because you liked me..I don't know why are you acting like it was genuine..."
And suddenly your hands flew to your mouth to cover them.. you were shocked yourself... You were irritated...that your little scheme was caught you said something you should not have said... He left the room slamming the door shut..
You were not able to sleep that night.
Two days.... He didn't looked at you, or talked to you... He would leave the room as soon as you would enter.. you felt like a criminal.... Rio would hide being him... Everytime you would ask Rio something. You didn't have the strength to face him at the breakfast so you skipped them.. and Rio didn't come to your room anymore .
Today you took step out of you room to have dinner with them.. Duke pulled the chair for you. You sat there eating silently he cut meat for you . His eyes trained on your every move. You looked confused when he slided a beautifully crafted wooden box to you, Arsian and Rio both perked up . You opened the box eye flickering with recognition, and then your whole face turned red.
You sputtered slamming the box shut.. as you grabbed the box and ran out of the dinning hall. He smirked wipinh his lips with the handkerchief and slowly stood up. And walked out of the hall after you. You slammed the door in hurry not noticing as he entered and locked the door from inside...
"Are you insane?? What were you thinking when you gave me a adult toy in front of a kid!!!"
You screamed.. it was the vibrator that you commissioned thorough Camilla.
"You made me insane honey... I even asked Rio to pick the prettiest colour... That would look good on his mommy... Or if I say correctly... In his mommy...."
He pinned you on the bed swiftly... Loosening the tied of the dress softly you squirmed trying to get away... When he kissed you... You were panting after he pulled away .. already half naked.. as he threw your panty that he took off away on the floor.
"You know I was reviewing our contract for past two days... And I found a loop hole... You can only divorce after five years if you didn't got pregnant...but if you do get pregnant.... The contract is void.... Don't you think five years is a long time to try to get you swollen my love????"
You whimpered as he entered you... Softly... Your eyes spilling tears as he kissed them away... He waited, learnt your spots with patience. He fucked you whole night.. it wasn't even rough. It was slow sensual... Yet he had you claw his back like a little kitten..
You were not even able to register your surroundings next day leaning into him as he spoon fed you... Your stamina is too low.. maybe cause it was your first time..... But he has been so much pent up with sexual frustration after marrying that he would rather die than not being able to touch you again after having a taste.
He was playing chess with you... After so many days he got chance to be alone in his own house with his pretty wife. You were wreathing in his lap, your wet warmth squeezing around his cock as he turned the vibrator stuck on your clit on full. Head thrown back on his shoulder you whimpered sweetly.
He his one hand was binding both of your wrists together so that you won't touch yourself and other was on one of your knee to keep them apart. Nuzzling your neck as he watched at your reflection in the mirror in front of you too... He growled as he said..
"Love it's your turn... I've been going so easy on you ... I even gave you chance to get divorce.... You can leave if you win against me in chess honey....... But it seems like you don't want to leave now ...hmm??"
He chuckled and kissed the side of your head... You are going nowhere... if it needs a child to stop you from going he going to give you as many as you want.
synopsis: As an Agriche maid, it's a responsibility and expectation to follow and serve your master, even if that means indulging in the desires and whims of Dion Agriche.
Content. mdni afab + f! reader, master and maid relationship so power imbalance, ngl dubcon if you squint but only bcs it's dion, fingering (f! receiving), edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia (duh it's dion), pussy slapping, choking but it’s like one sentence, vaginal penetration, oral (m! receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, dion bites you and then licks your blood, reader is a little iffy abt dion bcs it's dion, no aftercare bcs dion is dion.
a/n: this is me going back to my roots for the small dion community since i never got over him, and he's the toxic ex i run back to. dw dion i love you though. i tried to do him justice.
Dion Agriche is a kind master.
Somewhat.
Dion Agriche is a kind master when he's not present. It's in your fortune that the coveted son you are assigned to is usually sent away on missions by his father; being Dion's maid is easy when your master, known for being ruthless and bloodthirsty, isn't home for weeks at a time.
It's no secret that Dion's family is, well, insane. The Agriches aren't exactly known for their hospitality or kindness, and it's a trait that Dion has taken in, raised in such an environment, with even harsher rules as the favored son. No warmth or kindness from the man you serve.
To you, Dion is the same way. Cold, ruthless, a predator to prey.
Which is why you don't even quite remember why exactly your little physical relationship with your master came to be. For months, you served as Dion’s maid (who knows why you were even assigned to him), mostly cleaning around the estate because he was never home to even tend to or go through the familiar routine of tidying up his untouched room. But you never would’ve expected Dion to take a sudden interest (if you could even call it that, for interest is far too kind a word) in you that particular day he came home months ago.
Perhaps it was because he came back from a longer mission or because Dion is your master who had the sudden realization that he could torment you all he wanted and you could never retaliate lest you meet your death (probably by his hand), but you distinctly recall that day, a few months ago, greeting him properly and primly as you always had.
Back then, months ago, his hair had grown longer, and his eyes somehow even deader than before, stared down hard at you, an insignificant little thing in his eyes, before he simply walked past you. Typical behavior for the man, as you have come to learn.
That day, diligently, you trailed after him to his room to prepare his bath as you had always done. And somehow, that very same day, you found yourself sat on your master's cock. His cold hands latching to your waist in an iron grip, bouncing your pliable body on top of him, and filling you up full. Hot, thick cock drilling into your gooey walls and your nails raked down his skin, red welts carved in its wake against pale skin.
You remember that evening clearly, since after that, Dion just... left you alone, returning to the normal relationship between master and servant. As if he wasn’t bucking his hips up to meet yours, sloshing water around in his ridiculously large tub, as if his hands didn’t leave bruises on your hips that stained for days, or that he didn’t shoot loads of his sticky cum over your stomach before looking at you expectantly to wash him off.
That day was months ago, and since then, you've found yourself tangled up in the devil's web that comes in the form of Dion Agriche too many times for it to be a fluke or a dream (rather a nightmare) like you once thought it was.
Somehow, your coupling almost becomes routine when he comes home. Undressing him while tension crackles through the dead air, a bath, in that very same tub months before, where your hands explore his scarred skin—feathery, light, almost too delicate to be considered a wash, yet too meek to push further—and then his bold look up and down your body when you dry him off in his room.
A look not even like property, but like a slab of prime meat, searing you alive with a smoldering gaze that injects hot and reluctant shocks of arousal and fear through your veins.
And now, you find yourself in the same position when he has, once again, returned from a successful mission.
Like every other evening, you cleanse the young lord of the iron scent that always seemed to cling to him, toweling him dry before robing him in dark silk as you attempt your best to shrivel into nothing beneath his scorching glare, looking away only to meet his pale and hardened torso that you’ve become quite acquainted with, scarred after years in battle. In his presence, your senses know only him.
“Bed.” He utters, raspy voice cleaving through the tension. Well, adding to it, really.
Like routine, your footsteps are silent as you step away from him. Slow. Steady. Calculated. The air in the chilly room seems to heat and shift with every step that you force yourself to haul, taking utmost care not to trip or stumble. Even with the small distance between your two bodies, Dion’s eyes carefully track your movements, deliberately picking you apart piece by piece as he follows you to the silken bed you made just earlier that morning.
He makes it hard to breathe. Hard to stand still and relax as he presses up behind you, towering over your rigid frame. His breath beats hotly against the helix of your sensitive ear, and it makes you want to turn away. Rough hands easily find the curve of your stiff torso, trailing up and up until his large hands are cupping your breasts through your uniform, lithe and familiar fingers tweaking your nipples through the fabric, pulling and teasing whilst his crimson eyes stare intently down at your contorting features.
Dion Agriche has long decided that he likes watching you squirm.
Like a patient hunter, he enjoys watching your expression warp with the different pressures and textures of his hands. What touches will make you want to buckle and fold? Which sensations he dances onto your flesh will have pearly tears welling up in those eyes of yours until you let them fall? Dion wants to see it all, play the role of some twisted and magnificent conductor that can maestro the symphonies of your body and hear what sounds you can sing.
Now, you wouldn’t say you particularly like Dion Agriche. No, anyone in their right mind with any sense would keep far away from the Agriche lineage, polluted blood and pure venom in their souls, haunted by the dreadful actions of their forefathers and their present misdeeds. You only comply with the pleasure his body provides because he is your master—a collar on your honor and name, a shadow that gropes your future like a toy. You’ve fallen far too deep in his netting to leave now.
So no, you do not like Dion Agriche. Therefore, you should not like how he makes you feel. Which comes to your misfortune, the small, numbingly irritating fact that you do like how he makes you feel.
Some cruel and visceral part of you likes his touch.
The way his rough and calloused hands that've reaped souls glide over your skin, because no matter how high and mighty he reigns, the favored son and sword of his father, Dion Agriche chooses you.
Out of any servant in the estate, any noble or civilian, Dion chooses you to sear his touch into. It’s you he brands and touches. And in a ruthless world that you've been fighting in for the entirety of your seemingly insignificant existence, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel wanted by the untouchable man, riddled in blood and fury, and it numbs you to the reality of life.
While Dion is your collar, he is also your escape.
So, you let him slide his hands around your body, slowly popping the buttons of your dress off. Each button undone is like a sentence, a verdict hanging heavy on the weight of your soul. The articles of clothing slip flimsily off, bare skin exposed to the cold temperature. First, your shoulders, further down to your torso, until your dress bleeds into a pool of black and white at your feet, clad in nothing but undergarments that serve no purpose in hiding you from Dion’s gaze.
The moment is quiet and mechanical. It’s always quiet. You, too wary of making any sudden movements, like any breath too loud or shuddery, will morph you into more of a target than you already are. A mixture of heady fear and arousal settles in your veins because while you may not be pleased that it is Dion who makes you burst with euphoria, you cannot deny his attractiveness, nor can you deny how he makes you feel. And Dion, well, is always quiet.
He's quiet even as he motions you down on his soft sheets with surprising gentleness, the very ones you made this morning before he came back from his mission. It crinkles under your combined weights, his arm coming up beside your head, enclosing you within his presence while he peers down at you, his potent gaze running down your body in a way that makes goosebumps dance along your exposed skin, arousal simmering within your body, settling into the rushing web of blue and red underneath your skin.
His toned torso looms over you as he moves silently, too silently, sitting on his heels as his hands round the tops of your thighs and down under, hooking your legs atop his lap. Though his body is cold, his touch burns, and it makes you gasp, a sound that has his crimson eyes meeting yours. His robe has practically fallen from his body at this point, hanging precariously, one shoulder already exposed to the cold air’s touch whilst the other slipped dangerously yet covered him decently—a mock to your nude state. Tendrils of ebony hair curled lightly downwards with gravity’s embrace, catching the glints of moonlight.
You’ve seen him like this plenty of times, more than you would have liked. Some nights it would be in the bath, his skin glistening with rivulets of water that slither down every scar on his built body while he took you fiercely until the water ran cold and mixed with your tears. Or like now, towering over your supine form, red eyes gleaming with something you can’t pinpoint on his features as his hands meet your skin, calloused touches that slip you completely out of your undergarments.
Either way, it makes searing shocks of concentrated heat melt into your traitorous body like silky nectar.
In this way, Dion finds himself almost amused. Almost. It's a twisted satisfaction that finds gnawing within his chest whenever he has you in this vulnerable position, propped under him and so hesitant to move. He's not sure if you're even aware that you act this way. First, shy. Then, writhing, moaning, and crying from his touch. And while those reactions come as a familiar stranger from others, he finds it subtly different when he wrenches it out of your body.
He's had people quiver before him many times: his own family, his targets, monsters, and humans alike. But it's a distinct pleasure with you. He doesn't dwell on it. Dion Agriche never dwells on anything; he wants it, he takes it. The same way he takes you, because he wants you. He discovers some mangled beast in him when tears bead at your eyes, finds his lips curling upwards when those pearly tears of pained pleasure fall down ruddy cheeks.
"You've done this quite a lot," his voice breaks through your senses in a stoic murmur, "Yet, you quiver every time."
His words pull a grimace from you, shame oozing from every one of your pores when you look away.
His touch traverses down the planes of your body, cold hands slipping into the wet fabric of your panties, pulling the clothing off before his hardened glare finds your spread cunt. Soft, soaked, silky with arousal. You’re perched so meekly on his lap, legs stretched out and face flushed with that coyly shy expression he just can’t put a finger on. The contrast presents itself starkly, registering briefly in his mind. You, with your legs splayed on his in a lewdish manner, yet your expressions quiver and shake, unable to even look at him.
Not that he cares much. It's better for him, really. Makes it more enjoyable to see you lose yourself when buried in your contorted emotions wiggling inside you.
Dion lets his thumb glide along your slit, dragging his calloused digit slowly through, taking in the way your slick gathers on the finger, catching on your achy clit before he presses down, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves just to see how your back domes off his sheets. With his other hand, his lithe fingers tweak your nipple harshly, such contrasting pleasure has you crying out a meek noise—half mewl and half gasp.
The quiet sound sends a tremble of delight over his body, and it triggers him to repeat the action again and again. It pleases him immensely when you respond, gasping like a frail doe, eyes squinting shut when his thumb rolls your sensitive clit.
One body, writhing in the moonlight. Another, gazing down with such intensity, crimson eyes burning into squirming flesh.
His thumb eventually drops from your raw clit, earning a soft cry from you that trails into a desperate gasp as his middle finger prods at your tight heat, breaching the resistance. Slow. Slow. Slow. Almost gentle, even though it’s anything but. Slow enough that you can feel every thick inch that invades your sensitive walls, stretching you full. Slow enough so Dion can etch every contortion of your face into his memory.
He goes steadily, almost gently. Not for you, but for him. Gods, it almost makes you wish he’d go faster, just to get it over with, maybe it wouldn’t make you feel so good. But it does, it feels so horrendously good.
Your pussy is so wet for him. Silky and soft like you’ll melt in the watchful moonlight, ice under the blazing sun, he finds that he wants to grope and squeeze and knead your body until you’re disintegrated into nothing but a mess of tears and soft cries. Within his chest, a black pit of nothingness, he likes feeling you like this, molding you from the inside out. Vocal cords tightened with his title hung on your lips as he adds in yet another finger. Too full.
Just earlier, you were so hesitant to even look at him, tense like a doe caught in headlights. Now, you’re twitching with every smooth pump of his thick fingers in your gummy walls, thumb back on your sticky clit as he intently watches you convulse under his touch.
Your cries and moans fill the air, thighs threatening to shut around his hands, back arching off the bed; into his hand, away from his hand—you can’t even tell anymore. Anything to stop the overwhelming pleasure that suspends you in the hazy mist of want and need. God, it’s just too much. It’s too much, too fast, too stimulating, and you can’t do anything but take it. His fingers are long and thick, filling you up so well. Cunt weeping in obscene squelches every time his digits go in knuckles deep, erotic webs of slick cling to the heel of his palm as it meets your clit in wet plaps.
"You're crying," Dion states with the slightest curl of his lips, his words barely audible over the filthy sound of flesh on flesh. "You're crying, but you’re enjoying it. Enjoying it so much that you’re about to cum, no?”
An enigma, Dion thinks. He knows you’re feeling good, really good. With the slick dripping down his wrist and the tips of his digits repeatedly kissing that spongy spot in you that makes you keen, he knows well what he’s doing. Velvety walls flutter sensitively around his fingers; he knows you’re close. Mouth open in pleasured cries, body tensing and twitching under his onslaught of pleasure, it’s like you’re trying to run away, yet your own hips pump sloppily over his fingers. And your tears… pretty rivulets of ecstasy slipping down ruddy cheeks.
It makes his cock hard, bobbing free against his toned stomach, leaking. More. He wants more from you.
His fingers curl just right, pressing against that sensitive spot in your pussy. It hurls you towards your orgasm, pressure building and coiling deep in your lower organs. Dion’s digits thread you right on the precipice of delight that simmers in your rushing veins. You're close. So, so devastatingly close with your features scrunched, droplets of pleasure dripping from your pretty eyes and onto the pillow, his title falling from your lips in hoarse, broken pants.
Until you’re not.
His hand suddenly retreats from your core with a sob from you. The loss of the satiety sensation of his fingers leaves behind an agonizing emptiness that futility claws your orgasm back. It tears a cry from your throat, barely recognizable to even yourself. You're left pathetically yearning, aching for more, and you’ve been mercilessly cut from the mesh of pleasure by a man with too much power over you, extinguishing the flames of ecstasy rushing in your ears.
"M-my lord...” You hear yourself whimper out, hips jerking in retaliation of the sudden denial, thighs attempting to flutter shut around his hand (though you don't prevail). "Please... Why?"
Amidst your helpless babbles, you brave a look at the man whose palm your pleasure resides in.
And illuminated by the aching gleam of the silver, watchful moon, crimson eyes shining with what you can only identify as amusement, he answers with a smile. Dion Agriche’s lips curl into a damned smile, blessed by divine sin incarnated into whatever soul harbors his body.
Bastard. The thought runs briefly through your mind at his expression. Beautiful bastard.
"You give reactions such as these," he muses quietly, swiping a wet thumb past the rivulet of pleasure slipping from your lachrymose eyes, thumb no doubt slick with your arousal, "it puts me in a good mood."
His words do nothing to soothe the raging plea in your body. As if such condescending speech could comfort something so cruelly stolen.
You can only haphazardly imagine what goes through his mind, how you must look to him. You feel ruined, and you’re sure you must look it too. Clit throbbing, pussy clenching around the gaping emptiness of your core, and the orgasm that was so close, slipping away. Your cheeks feel wet, whether with sweat or tears, you can't tell.
What you don't expect, though, is for Dion to lean in, pushing even deeper into your space, his tongue simultaneously darting out to lave at the streaks of salty tears, adding to the dampness pooled on the apples of your cheeks. It’s sudden. Hot and warm and smooth is the sensation of Dion’s tongue on the corners of your eyes, how they mop up the wetness of pleasure and frustration like he isn’t the one inflicting such onto you.
And it’d be almost comforting, almost gentle. Almost. If he weren’t doing it for himself. Cleaning you up only to ruin you again.
Dion’s smile remains on his lips as his middle finger taps gently against your honeyed folds, eliciting a light whine from your lips, swollen from your own incisors. His large hands easily part your cunt once more, index finger tapping lightly against your clit, feeling the little pulse in your hypersensitive bundle of nerves respond to him. His eyes never leave your face. Ever watchful, ever overbearing. Just the slightest touch and he can tell how your climax trembles through your bones again, rising steadily through frayed nerves.
Your pulse races under his palm. So alive, so very alive with a heartbeat that jumps and quivers in time with the jerk of your desperate hips, eagerly meeting his fingers that dance along your clit. Open-mouthed moans that trail into a surprised gasp when he suddenly delivers consecutive smacks on the soaking folds of your sex.
A sharp yelp leaves your lips at the stinging contact, simmering into pleasure when the sensation seeps deep into your pounding veins. Despite your whimpering cries, Dion doesn't let up. He spanks your pussy again, once, twice, a third time for good measure as you sob. Tears stream down your face, merging into fat globs and flowing in heavy currents, distorting your vision while you tuck your head away into his ruined pillows (you’ll have to wash them tomorrow). From the overwhelming sensations, the denial, Dion’s piercing gaze and amused smile… it all hurls your traitorous body back to the precipice of pleasure.
“Please…” You sob, “Please, please, please… give it to me, please.”
Mind muddled into a tensed pool of desire and need, body taut with the promise of release, you barely make out the widening of Dion’s smile. Only his presence invades your muddled perception of the world, narrowed down to only him, a hot overindulgence of a man enjoying your misery. You feel his slick tongue sliding up your cheeks, hand wrapping around your throat with the lightest squeeze to make your whimper dwindle in hoarse, broken whines. Thankfully, he doesn't stop.
It’s one sloppy slap to your raw clit that sends you hurling over the edge. The impact makes the tight knot in your belly coil and crease over itself, winding tight until your body quakes and folds with exaltation. Helplessly, you wither away from Dion’s touch, scampering to the pillow to bury yourself from the euphoria, which he, surprisingly, lets you do with a riveted grin. The intense climax blurs with what you think registers as over-sensitive pain, crawling in a haze of ecstasy and into the void of hot shocks of pleasure which linger through frazzled neurons.
Your limbs fall lax as the seconds, or minutes, or hours pass by; honestly, you can't even tell. Time seems to stand frozen as your body recovers as best as it can, but it's Dion nudging your legs apart once more that brings you back to reality.
“Wa-wait, my lord—”
“Don’t.” His cold voice suddenly slices off your sentence, no words for anything else. “We both know what you want, and we know how this ends. No need to delay.”
His quip words are sharp, rendering you hushed as he makes himself at home between your thighs once more. His hands find your knees, and there’s a quick passing thought pressing into your head to instinctively squirm away despite knowing it’ll do nothing. You fight the urge, choosing to lie compliant as he opens your legs, encasing himself between the empty space, and allowing the cool air to kiss the dripping folds of your pussy as well as the drying tears on your cheeks.
Your eyes follow his other hand, watching it wander down his body until his lithe fingers fold around the thick girth of his cock. You've seen it before, had it inside you on multiple occasions, but, as always, there's a biting anxiety eating at your mind. Just the sheer size and look makes you think it’ll break you. It’s heavy in his hand and dribbling more beads of pre that roll down the course of veins along the underside with every slow drag of his large palm.
“Stay still.” He murmurs, hands in an iron grip on your hips as he pulls you closer.
Your breath hitches when his leaky tip notches against the rim of your entrance.
He doesn't give you time to process the swiftness of his movements, pulling your legs over his shoulder, and swaying his length into your heat in a single snap of his hips. The sudden stretch makes you hiss and squirm, nails digging into the poor pillow's flesh as your velvety walls part way for the burning intrusion, body coiling up as he sinks his cock all the way down to the hilt.
"Oh, fuck..." You moan out loud, sounds of pleasure when the blunt crown of Dion's cock kisses that sweet spot inside you, flickers of white bursting behind your watery lids because you swear, you swear he tries to fuck a hole through you. All of a sudden, it's like your last orgasm comes creeping back through hypersensitive nerves and blends into an intoxicating puddle of lust, festering in your blood.
The full feeling of him sits deep in the well of your gut, earning a myriad of whines and pitiful babbles from you into the sizzling air. It's not the first time you've taken him in so deeply, hell, you've had him stretching the flesh of your mouth too, but he makes sure the sting of his bulging veins squishing into your cunt is one you never grow used to. His hips sit snug against your thigh's underside, balls resting on the curve of your ass. Filthy slick mixing with filthy slick, a low, raspy groan crawling from the depths of his throat when he looks down at the mixture of expressions flitting over your face, and he feels something deep unfurl and condense tight in his gut.
His hips begin moving before you can fully adjust, pushing somehow deeper before swiftly pulling back with a smooth sway of his hips, barely pulling out before he plunges right back in. The large bed underneath you two groans in protest, falling in time with every lunge of his cock as he fucks brutally into your sopping sex, intent on pulling out more tears, more cries, more of anything he can carve out. Skin on skin colliding in loud slaps of wet flesh that reverberate throughout the chambers, melding incomprehensibly with the loud moans and sobs of your own voice. Dion Agriches fucks mean.
"Look at you." He groans out, his low voice barely audible over the obscene sounds of your bodies mingling passionately. "You're crying again, for what?”
Just to prove a point, his hand snakes between your two bodies, swiping a finger over your sensitive clit, relishing in the way your stuffed pussy flutters in reply, and your eyes squeeze out more tears. How could he stop when you give him such responses? He's had many people cry before him—from pain, for mercy, love. But none quite so as you, who always seems to cry so pitifully when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, digits digging deep into the plush flesh of your thighs, mounting himself above your body and stuffing you so deeply that you can feel him fucking the air out of your lungs.
Gazing up at him from below, through teary eyes, Dion is… certainly a sight. Sweaty and flushed, the lightest pink on his pale skin.
For a man used to long endurance and stamina, he pants softly into the air, beads of sweat building on his dark, furrowed brows. Quiet and heavy groans fly from his throat to blend with the cacophony of wetness and heated pleasure. Ruby red eyes keep trained on your pinched features as he releases your straining legs from their throne atop his shoulders, letting you drop the aching muscles to his waist, where you curl your legs instinctively, pulling him impossibly closer.
Slick oozes out from the squelching seam of your pussy, coating his thick cock as he bends himself over your body. One strong arm serves as a pedestal beside your head to support him while he covers your sweaty torso with his, leaning down to run his hot tongue over the bands of briny tears. The proximity makes it so you feel his feverish body, though, he doesn’t touch you, only his slimy, scorching muscle licks up the pillar of your slickened neck that tears trickle down, tasting the evidence of pleasure whilst you turn and twist away from him, body wrecked with fiendish bliss.
And Dion doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really care that you seem so keen on trying to act like he isn’t the one making you feel good. Doesn’t really care that you try to squirm away, even though your body betrays you with fervid hips bucking to meet his and tears that sprout from euphoria blooming in your brain. It only makes him harder, makes him fuck you faster into the mattress until he can feel the familiar flutter of your walls mouthing and milking at his shaft. You’re close, really close.
His cock just feels so thick and filling in your walls, lewd and obscene and hot. God, you’re close, so close. So close and you can only hope he doesn’t deny you of it. Warm tears and syrupy thighs meeting sweaty flesh in loud, resonating claps of detached passion. You’re close, you want to come, bad. You need to come, desperately.
“Dion, please! I need it, don’t stop! Please, gods, please don’t stop!” You wail out, not caring any about propriety or titles at the moment of tipping release. Your nails carve into the muscle of his built forearm, drawing blood that neither you nor he seems to care about, both chasing after the rapid unraveling in your organs.
A sharp pain in your neck is what sends you over the edge. The piercing of his canines through the tender skin of your throat, pointed pain dissipating into bliss, and the roll of his tongue collecting orbs of your life’s essence make you shake. It’s all too much upon the onslaught of your body, and you come with a shuddering cry of his name. The pleasure ripples and expands across your body, the light flaring behind shut lids and the sound spewing forth, dunking your senses in an ocean of ecstasy.
In the midst of rolling waves of euphoria, you hear what sounds like Dion’s voice, muffled like cotton pushed into your ears. For a moment, you see Dion, smiling like the goddamned devil. You feel him still pistoning into you, the sudden overwhelming and prickly sense of over-sensitivity seizing your body when you realize he isn’t stopping. Determined to reach his own end and perhaps end you in the process.
Dion's rocking maintains its pace, pushing deep into you without slowing down. Your attempts to squirm and crawl and retreat from the overstimulation are pathetic, only causing the intensity to escalate as you catch a breathless whisper of what sounds like Dion’s remark about your pitiful sniffling. Pleasure seeps and swirls with the biting, sensitive ache of your spent body, voice hitched, caught in your throat and gasping out at the overtake of that delicious pressure. Caught in the torrent of his punishing hips, you can only sob his name and take what your uncaring master so generously gives.
In the overwhelming barrage of sensory overload, you cry out Dion’s name, mingling with whimpers and moans that are sure to leave your throat sore tomorrow. Unfazed by the flurry and babbling of your noises and sensitivity, Dion profusely continues with his deep strokes, sprinting for his own climax. His powerful strokes make you tremble furiously underneath him, silver drops of liquid pleasure and sensitivity slipping from your eyes and onto his pillows.
It’s not enough, not enough for him.
And in a single motion of his hips, Dion pulls out, leaving you gasping for air from the sudden loss of fullness. But you don’t have time to even think about the aching emptiness as his hand finds the nape of your neck, practically scruffing you and pulling your trembling, limp body onto your hands and knees, ultimately coming face to face with his raging cock. Still hard. Still aching. Still throbbing.
The man doesn’t think twice before pushing the head of his member past the barrier of your lips, groaning lowly when he slides into your warm cheeks, moist and slick, molding your throat to the ridges of his dick.
You taste yourself on his shaft, your arousal, your cum, and his all swirling together in the tightness of your throat, stretched wide to fit him all the way down to the thick base. His hand buries into the tendrils of your hair, pushing you down until your nose smushes against his pelvis and the blunt head of his cock tingles against the back of your throat. Too big, too wide for your poor mouth, that it makes you want to gag, choke at the sudden intrusion, despite having been in this position before. Though you try to accommodate its thick girth, letting your jaw fall slack as much as possible, there’s a familiar ache that forms when he begins to move, humping his hips against your slobbering mouth, thick webs of spittle connecting him to your swollen lips.
He pounds away at your raw, moaning throat, hot groans escaping him as fucks and fucks and fucks, sharp snaps of his hips like he’s fucking your pussy. For a moment, Dion turns his ruby gaze downward, cursing under his breath at the sight of your sloppy maw stretched wide and tears dripping down your stuffed cheeks, escaping down to the pillar of your bitten neck. Mouth full of cock and eyes full of tears; Dion doesn’t keep pets, but for a moment, he might just consider it now.
And Dion never loses control. But as the corners of his vision pulse a static white while he ruts into your mouth, he finds that his hips buck uncontrollably, veins pulsing frenziedly against the slope of your tongue, each sway of his hips pumping liquid bliss through his limbs as he chases to unfurl the tight gnarl sitting in the pit of his stomach.
You feel it before you can rationalize it (if you could rationalize anything now). Thick and hot torrent of salty bitterness floods your throat, gooey ropes of cum sliding down your esophagus that makes your watery eyes squeeze shut, trying your best to breathe through your nose while your master’s hand collars you down to the base of his throbbing length. You want to gag, to cough up at the globs of semen and the pulsing veins that match the cadence in his heart, thumping on your wet muscle (much too slow, almost inhuman, for someone who was panting and shooting ribbons of semen down your throat, but it’s Dion, so you don’t question).
His voice is strangled from above you, a series of curses leaving as the last few spasms of bliss tear through him, and it feels as if the moment stretches out indefinitely, his body winded like a taut string and heaving, release seemingly endless, shuddering gasps rattling his ribcage.
He keeps you against his cock for a few seconds longer, just watching you from above. It’s always his preferred sight of you, even more than when he has you bent over yourself or crying from his touch. He observes you intently, vermillion eyes trained on your mouth and clumped lashes before he speaks, voice raw and strained.
“Look at me.”
You do.
You look up at him through blurry eyes, making out his tall figure and familiar crimson irises, light-headed, half from exhaustion and half from a lack of oxygen. Your sore throat milks his cock as a reflex of trying to force out the thick appendage in vain before he finally, finally releases you with a slick ‘pop’, granting sweet permission to pull your mouth off, salacious strings of saliva, cum, and everything else still attaching your lips to the shaft.
Your lungs expand in your ribs, intaking heaps of needed oxygen, eyes fluttering shut as your hands wipe the mix of slimy liquid off your mouth. It’s sore, everything is sore and wet and sticky. Your body trembles, jaw aching, and cunt spent. The sensation of his rough thumb swiping the last stray ribbons of tears down your cheek is felt before he backs off completely, letting you sit back limply on his bed.
Dion spares you a final look beneath the sweaty mop of raven hair, deep pools of crimson blood bear into you, another devilishly stoic yet ethereal smile of condescending amusement, akin to a predator full from prey, standing to reach for his discarded robe and speaking as he slips it on like he hadn’t just fucked you within an inch of your life.
“Draw another bath.” He murmurs, walking away into the deeper shadows of his chambers.
Indeed, you think, tuckered and shriveled on his bed, your eyes trailing after his blurry figure, Dion Agriche is a cruel master.
can i ask a yandere (reaction) ofcalisto regulus,dion agriche,Claude de obelia with a reader who look and act like miesa esquilir of beneath the surviving princess joyful facade:
Context:when reader learn that she will be married with (dion/claude/calisto) and learn that they are already obssesed with her,reader decided to act like miesa esquilir,à crazy and uncotroled girl ,so she think that (calisto/claude/dion) will divorced of her and lost their obsesion with her but...IT'S QUITE THE OPPOSITE!
(I don't know Miesa Esquilir, so I'm not sure how to write for her. So I just wrote for a reader who acts almost irrational and far too possessive, almost red flag, hoping they'd end the engagement.)
(Warnings: red-flag!reader? But that's a façade, so.. Uhh, mentions of cheating, accusations, killing, etc. OOC Claude..? reader being a bitch to Penelope, but it's out of desperation and Siyeon understands but also Penelope dies, decapitated head, implications of yandere! Athy? If you squint, that is..)
Claude sighed softly, as you sat across from him, sipping tea silently as he watched you scoff, arms crossed and attempting to ignore him. He wondered what he did wrong now—
He softly spoke up, his voice cut off, "Dea-", "You dare talk to me after spending your time flirting with those wretched concubines of yours!? What type of fiancée are you!?" you cut him off, anger visible on your face and very much irrational and a demand to annoy your to-be-husband.
Your behaviour wasn't something Claude had initially expected, you were sweet. Sure, yes..But you also assume he was constantly flirting with other women, leaving few exceptions such as Lily, the maid who you just couldn't bare to be a nightmare to internally.
You had genuinely hoped he would be annoyed enough to annul the engagement if you kept being irrationally upset and mad and jealous. You didn't want this, not really.
You had learned the emperor had his eyes on you or something, the main reason why he got this engagement established in the first place..But also, it ruined with what assumptions those ladies put you under.
"Do you have ANY idea how horrible it is to watch you just..just-just EYE-FUCK women you walk around?!" you said, channeling your inner toxic side. Words falling alongside nervousness, hoping you weren't crossing boundaries,
"It's like I cannot be with the emperor because he's such a sleaze, always looking at women who aren't his to-be-wife! Am I THAT disgusting!? Tell me!" you said, banging your tea-cup down and spilling some of the tea as Claude looked at you with his stoic face, eyes slightly wide.
"My concubines..? They're whats making you mad?" he asked, voice firm as you inwardly grinned. Your face was burning with rage, but inside you hoped this would cause him to annul the engagement, like-
What type of man would like a woman who just called him a sleaze and womaniser even though he wasn't doing anything?!
"Of-course, your concubines make me mad. Aren't they solely your fuck toys? What use do you have of them? You have a fiancée" you said, even if you felt apologetic for throwing those women under the bus, they lived in the palace in the eastern wing, fair few atleast, meant for his personal pleasure since he was yet to have a wife.
But you barred Claude from seeing them too from your first meeting itself. Hoping it would make him hesitate in marrying you.
"And do you seriously believe I like them? i haven't visited them in ages." Claude said silently, but also trying to console your irrational outrage—
"What do I know?! For all i care, you may as well be going behind my back and rendezvousing with one of them!" you said, disgust and filth adorning your words more than it should have.
"Alright then. I'm sorry...I-I promise. I haven't been doing anything with anyone. What can I do to make you less mad?" he asked, slightly exasperated which you could tell, but also desperation to please. He clearly thought you were going a bit too far, but he couldn't happen to leave.
"Maybe LEAVE. You clearly have no idea how to treat your to-be-wife." you said, unusually harsh that even you yourself seemed surprised by your outburst, and started to regret it hoping it wouldn't offend him. You wanted him to annul the engagement, but you did not want to be executed.
But you hoped none of it showed on your face as Claude put his own cup down, nodding silently and standing up and walking out without a word, but with a final look.
That conversation passed with a few days and limited contact with Claude, which you were all too glad for. You seriously were already packing because you had an idea on what was coming, when he called for you to talk to him.
As you sat down, smile soft but polite enough and you hoped to hear the words you wanted, "Dear..first of all, I-I'm sorry. Okay? I'm so sorry you think I'm..to say the least, eye-fucking those women. I'm not." he said, his hands holding one of yours, cradling it reverently.
You scoffed, but a smile was there "Of-course you are." as Claude nodded silently. "I am..I'm so sorry." he mumbled as you silently preened, waiting for those words—
"The concubines have been moved to another palace on the eastern outskirts."
..What? You looked up at him, eyes widened in surprise, mouth open as if to say something but nothing came out except, "What?" you asked as he sighed,
"I know..I'm sorry, I shouldn't have concubines if you're to be here. I want the empress to settle down comfortably. Athy..she suggested this, so I moved them all." he said, looking down, still holding your hand and stroking your knuckles, admiring your hand as if it was art.
"I-I didn'-..huh?" you paused, voice stuttering as Claude silently took a sip of his tea, legs crossed as he looked at you, his blue crystalline eyes admiring you like you were a god. And a soft smile graces his stoic face, a rare one—
"You should settle in well if you're going to settle in." he said simply, shifting to be closer to you and gently kissing the back of your hand. Seemingly, your demands were answered, but not in the way you wanted.
Dion Agriche
Dion sighed, gently rubbing your back as your eyes glared at some woman. Gods, she was some noble's girl, Lant Agriche liked her somewhat and had initially gotten his marriage done to her before breaking it and letting him take you in.
And Dion seemed to somewhat tolerate her company at most, and you wondered if you got upset at her, made her mad, etc. Would Dion let Lant break your engagement..?
It was a worth a somewhat try, as you scoffed, gently pushing his hand off, "I told you— Either you choose me or her. How can you still own her gifts and all that?!" you demanded him to answer as he looked down at you with his stoic eyes.
His blood-red eyes stared back at you, his hand pulled back as others silently gossiped. The banquet Black Agriches were invited to, Lant was already off and Roxanna and Jeremy on the other side of the hall. You had to stick to the wall due your stupid fiancée—
"You keep going off about her without even realising with your actions, do you think I like being compared to her by your father or your mother or anyone!?" you said, crossing your arms and fanning your face with the lace fan.
"Is that it..? You don't like her?" he asked stoically, as always. Barely ANY emotions on this cold-hearted and jaded man's face and it seemed to just piss you off even more.
"Of-course, I don't! If she'd marry you..I would have to be here.. God, I just have rotten luck.. And now I'm here and it's all about her." You grumbled silently, removing your gloves as Dion gently took them, shoving them in his coat's pockets as you fanned your face.
Your anger placed upon the girl. Dion's obsession, it was horrendous, constantly treating you in ways, hoping to see emotions the way he wants to see them with Roxanna.
You hoped with desperation that if you acted wrong and badly, he might just let you go...But you also hoped you wouldn't die at his hands, the Black Agriche was obviously known for his bloodthirsty they all were, they killed their own kids if they weren't upto their mark.
But you just seemed to have wrong luck as you silently held Dion's hand so tight, you swear you'd leave bruises on his pale skin and leaned against him.
He swears, his days are gone with you complaining how everyone mistreated you by comparing you to his ex-fiancée or keeping him beside you when he duties to get to. He can never tell what mood he'd going to find you in, you're always nagging and complaining, like a little burden he just can't seem to let go of.
"Can't you be calm for once..? It's a banquet. Manners." It was all that Dion said as you scoffed, looking away as he hoped you wouldn't storm off or something. He didn't want to look for you in someone else's estate.
Dion sighs softly, holding your hand in his tightly as you kept muttering complaints about everything. And you still sleep better than anyone that night. Dion, on the contrary, didn't sleep, as usual.
By the next morning, you admired yourself in the mirror, looking at your cheeks and wiping anything weird form the banquet last night. Your maids silently working to remove your clothes, applying oils and whatnot when the door to your bath-house opened gently as the maids froze.
"..Hey." he called softly, as you turned to face him, freezing as your eyes widened, stomach lurching and bile rising in your throat. Dion was soaked in blood, that wasn't what scared you..No, he looked like that almost everyday..
That wasn't the troublesome or gruesome sight..It was the thing he held, a decapitated head spilling blood and bodily fluids alongside sticky flesh down onto the pristine tiled floor as the maids stood aside.
The head belonged to that innocent girl, Dion's ex fiancée, of-course it did.. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, you had a realisation that you'd never get your engagement annulled with Dion Agriche and it was an evidence to your face. Despite it, Dion extended the head to you as if offering a gift with a somewhat smile on his stoic face and expecting your dear and beloved praise on him.
Dion saw you being upset and he took it upon himself to make you happy again. You're his burden. His troublesome perfect burden. No one should compare to you, as is.
Callisto Regulus
You grumbled, you had no qualms on doing what you did to Penelope Eckhart. Your hand gripping her prior-pristine magenta hair, as you sighed. You inwardly apologised, not wanting her to face your wrath, not really, you weren't even mad at her. She had just said,
'My lady, the crown prince seems awfully invested in other ladies.'
She had not even throwing herself as an example of said ladies Callisto was interested in, yet you happened to order her to bend down to get your fallen bracelet and dropped wine on her hair..
You wanted to be seen as so irrational, people would mutiny that their crown prince wanted to marry you, so he'd have no choice but to annul your engagement with him. You felt bad for her and other women you treated like this on the daily basis, constant guilt inlaid in you.
But you will do whatever it took to get the blood-hound of a crown prince of Eorka off your back.
"Lady Eckhart, I see you still haven't learnt etiquette about how to treat other women's fiancée." you hummed, covering your mouth with your fan.
Penelope sighed, looking down from her position on her knees on you, wine dripping from her hair onto the floor and her clothes, dirties by shoes and dress stained by the fermented drink.
Siyeon read about you and your struggles to be away from the crown prince, she knew what you were doing was out of desperation, so she allowed it. Everyone watched silently, even Derrick, Duke and Reynold Eckhart watched you, the crown princess treating Penelope as if grime below your feet.
Penelope looked down, her hands clasped as your grip on her hair tightened, messing it up even more, "I apologise, my lady..I just-...I forgot my place." she mumbled, feebly and measly as Reynold and Duke Eckhart stepped forward right as you let go of her.
"Please forgive her, crown princess. We'll discipline this wild animal." The duke said sincerely, bowing to you as you sighed, nodding while Reynold gritted his teeth, not really appreciating your behaviour to Penelope.
"Of-course, I only do want the best for the young lady, she just debuted after all." you said, fanning your face, letting go of Penelope as Reynold helped her stand up as she nodded to your words, submissively and you felt guilt pool in your stomach again, but you simply fanned your face to make sure it didn't show on your face.
You were fine being painted as some cruel witch of a woman if it meant Callisto would leave you be. You WANTED people to demand you be rid of him..You NEEDED to be away from Callisto.
And as if speaking of him—
"My crown princess, what are you doing?!" Cedric asked, rushing over with Callisto in tow. Cedric seemed concerned, while Callisto had a look of indifference. Cedric bowed and apologised profusely for your actions to Duke and Derrick Eckhart, as Callisto wrapped his arm around your waist, making your back tense up before you attempted to relax—
"Just what was this? What made you take this course of action, princess?" Callisto asked, a small smile on your lips as you sighed, spreading open your fan and fanning your face.
"She just happened to speak out of line about your attention dwindling to other women, nothing more." you whispered back as Callisto raised an eyebrow as Cedric offered Penelope a maid to help her clean up, handing her a napkin.
"Did she..? Hm." Callisto smiled, "I apologise, Duke Eckhart." he said, guiding you by his hand on your back to your chambers in the imperial palace.
You couldn't even handle being around him these days, but you let him gently pick the front of your dress to help you walk, one hand tightly in his as he pressed a kiss to your jaw as you gritted your teeth, jaw subtly flexing.
You sighed, not wanting to play the cruel, bimbo, spoiled crown princess for longer than it's necessary as you sighed. The guilt pooled in you for treating Penelope the way you did when others already don't like her for not being the legitimate Eckhart daughter.
Days spent in your room, of-course people are STILL desperate to be close to you. Who wouldn't be? But unfortunately for you, you have to attend some of them, one being a particular tea party. You sat there silently, smiling and thanking the women around as you sipped the tea gotten specially for you.
You knew tricks people did to suck up to you, you always felt people wouldn't give two damns if you weren't Callisto's beloved fiancé–
"Did you hear..? Eckhart's wild animal, that Penelope. Found dead."
Your blood ran cold..—
"..What?-"
"Yes, your highness! Wasn't she the one who disrespected you!? Seems like people didn't approve of it. Apparently her father got very mad at her."
The lady speaking shook her head while another clicked her tongue in disapproval as panic and guilt alongside devastation pooled in you while you attempted desperately to keep your composure, to not break down crying.
"Well, then she was found dead...Who would have known..?"
When your arranged husband snaps and puts you in your ‘place’-
(18+, smut, bit of name-calling) (Part 2)
It was always a battle of wits with you two- and sometimes even fists.
You both abhorred each other, having been pushed into this marriage against both your wishes. The feeling of being trapped inflamed by incessant bickering. But even then neither of you could deny the undercurrent of tension and desire that simmered between you two.
Just like now, when he has you bent over on your stomach, skirts lifted up and legs spread open as he sheaths himself into your slick heat, the heavy mahogany desk creaking slightly with the force of his angry thrusts.
Your hands grip the desk, your whimpers muffled into the hand he holds over your mouth as he breathes down your neck. The room rings with the sounds of your lewd coupling and his deep groans as he keeps moving inside you.
Your legs shake and your mind is a hazy mess; it’s obscene and almost too much. But you both know that you won’t push him away even as you keep biting his hand. Despite all the differences, this was the one thing you two always agreed on: both of you liked it rough and heated.
“Fucking hell…ugh… acting like a cranky wench till I spread your legs open…hah…” he groans, his cock hitting deep “you’re just hungry for cock aren’t you?” He sneers in your ear “like a greedy bitch in heat”
You frown, biting at his fingers hard enough to draw blood but he just grins.
“Shhhh” he coos in your ear “we both know you wanted this, so why don’t you be a good girl and let me breed you, hmmm?” He thrusts deeper “I know it’s hard for an insolent wench like you, but you’ll try won’t you?” he smacks your bottom and picks up pace, chasing his own release, making you let out a muffled yelp and then a loud moan, your eyes rolling back.
“After all, you do have to carry my seed and birth me a heir…whether you like it or not” he taunts you as he hits a spot deep with you, earning a loud moan from the lips his hands have sealed shut.
“Look how hardworking your husband is…making sure his wife is stuffed full and satisfied.” He breathes into your ear “and yet my wife is still ungrateful.” You say something, but all that comes out is some angry muffling and another bite at his fingers.
And when he spills inside you with a deep groan, he, as was his routine for sometime now, says something that confuses you yet makes your nerve endings stand alert:
“I love you” his deep voice rings in your ear. Like a ritual, like a prayer.
You know he means it, even when you never say it back.
He slumps on top of you, planting a kiss behind your ear with a satisfied grin.
“Get off me, you mangy beast” you hiss, voice still hoarse from all the moans his hands muffled.
“Careful now. If you keep hissing like that you’ll just get me more excited” he smirks “and I’m sure your poor cunt can’t take that, now can it? I’m a gracious husband after all, unlike my wife.”
He slips out of you, his hand immediately moving to collect the dribble of thick semen and push it back in you “keep my seed inside, will you?” You whimper at the feel of his thick fingers plugging you up “How wasteful, letting it drip like that…” he holds you down as his fingers keep pushing his cum back inside, you knowing well that you were going to be trapped on this desk a long time.
Manhwa: Ursuline Ricaido (Under the Oak Tree), Jacob de Sevran (Marriage of Convenience), Callisto Regulus (Villains are destined to die), Izek Omertà (How to win my husband over), Jeremy Agriche (Roxana), Jeremy Neushwanstein (A Stepmother’s Marchen), Cesare de Como (I am the Queen in this life), Zhenya Bogdanov (Codename Anastasia), Caesar Sergeyev, Alexander Sergeyev (Roses and Champagne), Claude de Alger Obelia (Who made me a princess), Astair Lisrich Ebrach (Let’s hide my little Brother), Brandon Lee (Under the Greenlight), Laurence Rosan (The Villainess lives again)
hello! may i request yandere study group (gamin) with a smart but food-driven reader? ^^
like the only reason they even talked in the first place is because they got assigned as lab partners, then the second time they talked is when reader is offering tutoring services for food?
hopefully this isn't confusing ><
FOODIE. ( yandere! gamin yoon x tutor! reader )
summary : gamin likes everything about you, especially whenever you ate your food with such a gusto.
meeting you for the first time became the turning point of gamin's life.
as we all know, back when he was in middle school. he was labeled as "weird" and was practically ignored by all of his classmates. but then, he met you.
you were pretty different from all of your schoolmates. you were different from him- you were far more peculiar than he was.
you were the type of the person who ignores whatever people say about you. casually opening a bag of chips in the middle of classes, not caring even if there was a teacher in front (they didn't scold you since you were one of the most active students there). and more importantly, you were really smart.
gamin always wonder if you were the type of student that they called "lazy genius". because he never sees you opening your book or studying in school but still get a high score in every tests.
even before the two of you spoke to each other. gamin always wanted to befriend you, but he was too shy to talk to you first. besides, the only person you actually interested to talk to was those seniors who always barge into your classrooms with different types of breads (you always gave them study guides in exchange of those breads, but gamin wasn't aware of that.)
then, his chance came when the teacher assigned the two of you in an activity on your chemistry project.
that time, he tried to talk to you about the things that you like. but you were too focused on the experiment and on the lollipop inside your mouth. but still, gamin was happy about the fact that he was able to interact with you (even though your conversation only consists of you telling him what he should do during that activity) but he was still happy!
by the time that everyone was cleaning the science lab. you suddenly talked to him, making gamin- who was cleaning the area you two had used, surprised.
"hey, gamin. want me to tutor you?"
that offer was simple, straight to the point. but still, it made him both confuse and surprise.
then, you explained to him that you can teach him or make him some study guides for the subjects that he was bad with. but instead of money, you only accepts food as a payment.
then he asked you why? why are you giving him that kind of offer. but you just shrug, saying that you just liked the smile that he had earlier when the two of you got a perfect score in your activity.
hearing that, gamin couldn't help but to be flustered. he knew that you were straightforward- but not this straightforward! anyway, this guy ended up agreeing with your offer.
and not gonna lie, your teaching style is really fun. you made every subjects easy to understand with the way how you explained it as well as those study guides that you made for him.
the two of you usually spend your time during your session inside a coffeeshop. with gamin buying you the cake and drink that you wanted to try while you on the other hand, was excitedly standing next to him.
thanks to your efforts, gamin's grades improved so much that it made both his mom and hankyung surprised. while on the other hand- thanks to gamin, you are so close on conquering the menu of your favorite coffeeshops.
i can see gamin as a type of yandere who would take a very long time to realize that he was... a yandere.
this guy thought that his feelings were only pure and platonical. but, yep, it's not.
he loves the praises and the headpats that you gave him whenever he answers your questions correctly or whenever he passed the tests that he took. he also loves the sight of your face brightening as you enjoy your snacks.
he was the type of yandere who would do anything to please you. be it buying you snacks, (barely) passing the tests that he take. hanging with you after class. just name it because he will do everything for you.
timeskip, before graduating middle school. knowing you, gamin assumed that he won't be able to attend the same school as you. just by the thought of it already saddened him.
but then, when he asked you about it. you nonchalantly chewed your pizza, explaining to him that you got a scholarship to some famous school in busan. but since your parents, specifically your mom, doesn't want to send you to busan alone. you decided to enter the school near your house.
gamin immediately cheered up after hearing it. yes, the two of you can still hangout like usual.
now, now, the highschool gamin was very different to the middleschool one. like for real.
he isn't the same stuttering and blushing mess around you anymore. he became more bold- more touch starved. during your tutoring sessions, this guy who asked you to sit across him was now insisting for you to sit next to him so that it will become more easy for you to explain things. when the truth is he just want an excuse to be close to you.
you are aware that the yusong high was known to be a school for problematic children. and you know that there will be some times where gamin would get into trouble because of that.
that's why when you first saw gamin getting into a fight with some thugs on your way home. you were not really surprise- instead, you just waited for him to finish and casually handed him the study guides for the week and drag him to buy you some ice cream.
but seriously speaking. despite of the mess that was happening in his life right now. he would do anything to make sure that you won't get involve with it. because he rather die than seeing you getting hurt because of him.
￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣
"i'll make sure to get every single question right on this mock exam, so please promise you'll only look at me and give me those headpats as a reward, okay?"
