this yandere fic blog is currently under construction (❁´◡`❁)
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Delusional-angel - Earth Angel, Will You Be Mine? - Tumblr Blog
Servant's birthday was January 1st but there's still time send them your questions. They are eager to reply...
Want to learn more about Servant? Then check out Save the Villainess, our upcoming mystery/horror/romance villainess otomei isekai roleplaying game, on Itch.io!
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Credits: Character art by Somate Studio; Background by Son Huynh; GUI/Item art by @arodude
This holiday season, please accept a gift from Ben Buren, your Childhood Friend!
Want to learn more about Ben? Then check out Save the Villainess, our upcoming mystery/horror/romance villainess otomei isekai roleplaying game, on Itch.io!
Want to test our beta demo this January? Join our mailing list!
Credits: Character art by Somate Studio; Background by Son Huynh; GUI/Item art by @arodude
tagged by @collinnmckinley (thanks! ♥️) on this picrew
tagging: @just-the-hands, @delusional-angel, @sorugao-bandgeek and @akumugan if you're up for it!!
so tiny~
(könig x gn! reader)
a/n: had a fever dream and I just HAD to write this 🤭
cw: dead dove do not eat, just filthy smut, mention of being fuckbuddies, possessive sex, size difference, tummy bulge, claiming, fucking while unconscious, cumming inside without permission, noncon near the end, mention of kidnapping
“S-So fuckin’ tiny~..” König never failed to choke out every time that he pushed inside of you. It was like a tradition now, praising how tight and small you were compared to the massive, hulking man on top of you.
You never failed to shed a tear every time he pushed in, his cock practically breaking you apart the first time. It luckily had gotten easier, but your hole still struggled to take him every time. He made you cum better than anyone else ever had, so it was all worth it in the end.
This time, he was too excited to wait for you to adjust before thrusting his hips, his dog tags jingling softly from his pace. Your moans made him growl, burying himself deep inside to watch your belly bulge from his massive cock. He loves doing that, your moans get so loud and cute!~
He suddenly presses your knees to your chest, making you squeal as he fucks into you over and over. König huffs, biting lovingly into your calf as he watches his big dick disappear into your hole and reappear again, his hips kissing yours every single time just to hit that spot that he knows makes your eyes roll back.
“Mmh… gonna cum in you this time- you’ll be mine-“ The giant man grunts, his grip on your thighs even tighter as he quickens his pace. Your veins run cold. He’s never done that before. You two agreed that this was just a hookup thing, not anything serious!! You try to pull yourself away from him, your legs pushing off of his broad and scarred shoulders.
“Ah ah!” He shouts, pausing his relentless thrusts to hold your down at your arms, his leg coming around and hooking his knee over your leg to keep you from kicking too much. Sweat dripped from his rough skin, mixing with yours as he descended onto you once again.
“M’ sorry… I jus’ need you so bad…” He slurs slightly, a telltale sign that he was close to cumming. He resumes the desperate thrusts of his hips, managing to pound against your sweet spot with every stroke. “Mine, mine, mine~” He chanted, punctuating every slap of his skin to yours with a claiming note. You couldn’t stop yourself from cumming all over him, gushing and shaking as he fucks you through it to reach his own high.
König’s end came quickly, his thick and hot cum spilling into you like a waterfall as his shaky hips press against yours to keep it all inside. “Alles meins…~” He whispers into your ear, his breath heavy from his orgasm. His grip stays, his fingers digging into your skin just to feel it under him. You belong here. Right here, under him. All pretty and full for him~
His eyes were blown wide, staring at your beautiful figure as he started to move again. He didn’t need long to cool down, he was so insatiable when it came to you! Orgasm upon orgasm wracked your little body, sending you into cockdrunk stupor with your eyes barely open; and even then, König refused to stop using your pretty hole. You were long unconscious, but he was still chasing that high of the crown of his cock catching on you and sinking in. He lived for that, his head falling back from how tight and perfect you are.
He planned to never let you leave. You are his, and you’ll be happy, he knows it.~
~i do not condone yandere behavior/noncon irl~
Yandere Captain Price Headcanons
Warnings: 18+, Career sabotage, age gap, virginity kink (?), smut, AFAB Reader, breeding kink, forced pregnancy, mention of power fantasies, Price is a top, sir kink, mentions of male masturbation, toxic behaviour, abhorent behaviour, SERIOUSLY TOXIC BEHAVIOUR!, mention of a gun, description of a wound/injury, mentions of injuries, mention of blood, brief speculation of medical issues, pet names, profanity, etc.
You'd ensnared Price with your dark wit and humour, mirroring much of his own; and the smile you often served him with.
It took a long time - an arduous process you didn't even know you were engaging in - but you had Price wrapped around your finger within a year.
And he suspected that his liking of you - merely brief flickers of fantasies to ease him off to sleep or to get himself off - ran much deeper than he initially suspected.
Sure, he liked you; he worked with you, saw you every day - he'd think something was amiss if he didn't like you.
Though, that initial companionable enjoyment he - and the rest of the 141 - got from your fresh perspectives and attentiveness caused something in Price to...change.
He felt the shift, knew its symptoms, yet never found himself falling victim to it.
Until now.
He brushed it off at first, keeping his chatter with you tame, dull, if anything, to slow the spread, to stop it.
But he couldn't deny, as the months went on, how you made him feel, regardless of how hard he tried to push you away.
You made him feel safe, truly safe, something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Sure, he was a big guy, more than perfectly capable of killing when necessary (and unnecessary), but that didn't mean he wasn't subject to the odd adrenaline rush here and there, a bullet wound to the thigh, a gouge to the shoulder.
And despite being younger than him, you were always there to patch him up, to see to him. It was your job. It was inevitable.
You knew that, Price knew that - yet something inside prevented him from believing that your stray touches, the tender look in your eyes, the soft tone of your voice, were merely a symptom of your profession.
They were evidence of your fancying of him, too.
And he decided to let you know that he knew.
It started off with looks - longer than usual. Longing.
In the common room, passing each other in the halls, during conversations.
He'd tease you from time to time, just to see your face break out in a flush of colour.
"Y'know what, (Y/N)?" he'd say, leaning in across the cafeteria table. "You have beautiful eyes."
If you managed to bypass your own embarrassment and shoot a compliment back, albeit sarcastic-- "Not as mysterious as yours, Captain,"-- he'd fall for you harder.
Btw, calling him "Captain," or "Sir," makes all the blood in his body rush straight to his cock.
Has jacked off to his power fantasies before now.
Man's a top, it's just in his nature to want authority over everyone else (you).
After that, he started being more physical with you.
He decided to teach you how to use a gun - "For your own safety," of course.
It was all (mostly) a ploy to have a plausible excuse to be pressed up behind you, arms around yours, head resting on your shoulder as he praised you for your aim.
And to hear you yelp, to feel you graze just the right parts of him whenever you recoiled after firing, into his chest and...elsewhere.
Sent him absolutely over the edge - used it as fuel for his increasingly frequent self-love sessions.
Though, he did actually want you to be able to protect yourself when it came down to it.
But, he always sees himself as your protector; your man on whom you can depend for anything.
One evening, disinfecting a wound on his abdomen as he sat on the edge of one of the operating tables, you and Price got to talking.
"Pretty nasty cut here, Captain," you said, wiping an antiseptic cotton pad across Price's wound.
He winced, though kept the light smile on his face.
"Ah well, all worth it to come and see you,"
You shot him a look of sarcasm, though smiled, finding the sincerity in his words.
"I hope you're not getting injured just for me!"
Your statement was jestful, but the sentiment was genuine.
Price's eyes squinted in a smile.
"What if I was?" he said, his hands sliding to his knees, ignoring the pulsing in his wound and coming eye level with you as you rose.
You were taken aback, though at least tried to look like you'd regained your composure.
You scoffed, discarding the bloodied cotton into a nearby bin.
"Ah yes, a big, strong man like you can't possibly be killed by a mere bullet just to come and see the medic."
Price felt something in him clench, tighten.
He gave a huff of a laugh.
"You'd be surprised the things a man'll do to see a pretty woman."
Your back was to Price, gathering his shirt and hat. You faltered, unsure as to whether you'd heard him correctly.
You shook your head, choosing to humour him. To not take him seriously.
Big mistake.
Price took your: "You know, you could always just come and see me without getting hurt," as gospel.
That night, he imagined you, pleased to see him (in more ways than one), begging to take him.
He could hear your voice chanting his name, moaning and panting as he had you bent over his desk, slamming into you.
After that, he took you up on your offer, visiting you on evenings he knew you weren't busy, where your greatest priority would be paperwork.
You'd talk, get to know each other more and more, you discovering his penchant for World War literature, and he of your interest in video games.
He often compared his tastes to yours, ruminating on how much he could teach you if you'd let him.
You were younger than him by a good margin, yet already so intelligent, so...independent.
Price wanted to change that.
He wanted you to depend on him, and only him, for everything.
One evening, he watched you at the bar with the rest of the Task Force.
Soap seemed rather pleased to see you, sidling up beside you and holding you by your waist, pulling you into his chest.
It all appeared as playful teasing - as many of the Task Force members often subjected you to - but to Price, it spelled a bigger picture.
That night, after you'd returned to Base, Price took his chance.
He knew you hadn't been drinking, so you were of sound mind.
He knew he had to act now.
"Y'know," he said, watching you fumble with your keycard, trying to re-enter the medical wing. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be alone on nights like these."
He took a drag of a cigar you'd just noticed he had: him always being equipped with one made you blind to when he was smoking so close to you.
"What do you mean?" you asked, looking up at him briefly before managing to swipe the right side of your card.
You entered the building, and held the door open for Price. He followed behind.
"Cold. Lonely." His voice was low, vibrating at such a frequency that had you feeling hot. You wondered how he could possibly have this effect on you.
"Who says I'm lonely?" you said, flashing him a smile. You continued walking to your sleeping quarters. Price knew; he'd memorised the layout of the medical wing. Your route.
"I have you."
You meant it more as a compliment to his character rather than an invitation. But Price saw it how he wanted to.
"Yeah," his voice was deeper now, somehow. Lower, as if trying to reach beneath your skirt. "You do."
Price was literally living the dream after that.
No, literally: he had you bent over the edge of your bed, ploughing into you, with you practically crying into the covers beneath him.
His grip on your hips was harsh, months of pent-up sexual frustration being pumped into you.
And that wasn't the only thing Price was planning on pumping into you.
He came to realise, through your months of friendship, that he loved you in a way he hadn't felt about anyone in a long time.
He felt...protective of you - of your innocence.
Despite the horrific injuries you'd had to deal with in your line of work, you maintained your somewhat carefree demeanour.
That, and Price knew you'd never taken anyone before.
Your years of studying, training and working wouldn't allow for it; both you and Price knew that.
And here he was, stretching you out on his thick cock, hitting crevices you'd never even felt before.
You were a doctor - a medic - you knew how sex worked.
And you knew, from your years of textbook study, that you were close. And that Price likely was, too.
"C-Captain- cu-- ah!" Price gripped your chin, forcing you to look back at him.
"That's it," he said, panting, sweating, twitching. "Say my name again."
"P-Price-"
Price landed a slap on your backside, harsh enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.
"Try again, Princess."
He felt you clench around him at the name. His lip twitched up in a smirk.
"Captain..." you breathed out. You knew what you wanted to say - needed to say.
"Don't cum inside me," you pleaded, eyes wide and hazy. "Please."
You didn't have birth control to-hand, and you'd heard too many miracle stories about women still getting pregnant regardless of the aid of a pill regardless to risk it.
Price gave no acknowledgement of your worry, instead continuing to slam into you.
He was relentless, forcing you to your end quicker than you could register it.
You cried out, voice obscured by the covers, as your orgasm tore through you, gripping the sheets as Price was gripping your hips.
He continued to pump into you, prolonging your orgasm, keeping the mist settling over your mind from dissipating. Keeping your judgement from telling him to pull out.
It didn't occur to you until it was too late.
Price groaned, guttural and primal, and something hot and thick filled you.
Price's grip slid up to your waist, one hand settling on the small of your back and the other settling on your stomach, rubbing it.
Both panting and coming down from your high, your mind cleared.
First came the shame - the crushing reality that you'd just had sex with your superior, the man who'd near enough employed you - then, the realisation of a bigger issue.
"You...you didn't pull out..." Your voice was soft, throat dry with incessant panting and moaning.
Between breaths, Price uttered: "Don't worry, Princess. Got the pill."
Relief washed over you, then logic. Of course, why on earth would your superior risk you getting pregnant? Then again, why would he have contraceptives to-hand? This was a military base.
Little did you know.
Price did end up giving you a pill soon afterwards. A placebo, nothing more. Not that you knew that.
You and Price went on with your...relationship?...after your encounter.
You were confused, to say the least; unsure of how to approach Captain Price now that you'd grown to know him so intimately.
Yet he almost acted as if you hadn't; as if the whole thing were nothing more than a dream.
Almost.
The longing gazes and half-smiles let you know that he was still very much aware of all that you'd done together, though instead of the room thickening with tension whenever he was around, you felt shame. Ashamed.
You knew you couldn't undo what had been done, but you could go on and pretend it never happened - the only way you could think to put it behind you.
In the meantime, Price seemed so occupied these days, having important meetings with people you didn't even know or care to ask about, so he had little opportunity to remind you of your experience with him.
Though, he reminded himself of it every day - the fact that he'd been your first, the first (and only) to claim you.
The thought crossed his mind whenever he was fortunate enough to see you in the hallways, whenever he came to you with a scuff or a scrape.
A month passed. And that's where it all ended for you.
The sickness began, your stomach turning more mornings than not, leaving you breathless and fatigued before the day even began.
Your energy seemed to drain quicker, too, leaving you a ghoul of yourself on some days.
The other 141 members seemed to take note, asking you if you were okay, if you were eating enough.
All except Price.
The way he looked at you now - when word of your health's sudden downturn spread - was masked, as if he knew something. Like he knew whatever forbidden knowledge he possessed hid in his eyes, which he kept cold and unreadable.
Eventually, you decided to get tested for...well, everything. You got blood tests, tracked your symptoms, tried to make sense of this sudden onset of sickness.
You considered it was something you'd been eating, but you ate more or less the same meals before the sickness began.
You considered every possibility - blood disorder, stomach bug, liver issues - all except that which you hadn't daned the most obvious.
And when your test results returned, you felt your world shatter.
On your report, in a box in a long table, was a sign. The only confirmation of any illness on that entire report.
Pregnant: Positive.
Your worst fear had been confirmed. And now, you had to confirm it to Price.
Skittering through the hall, you found his office.
Surprisingly, there were no voices on the other end now, usually emanating from this room, muffled and secretive. 'Associates of Price' was the only identification you gave them.
You knocked, was told to enter. You obeyed.
Entering the room, you noticed that Price wasn't smoking his signature cigar, the air of the room clear, unobstructed by smoke.
Price had his legs resting on the edge of his desk, a perfect image of laxity while you, an homage to stress.
Your breath shuttered, and you rubbed one hand with the other. Price remained motionless, as if poised for your answer. Poised for attack.
You couldn't think straight, instead saying the first thing that came into your mind.
"You're not smoking, Captain." You tried to smile, but the attempt was diluted by your fear. Price only gave a knowing smile.
"Mmh. Wouldn't be good for the baby, would it?" The casualty with which he said it almost disguised the statement itself. You smiled, looking down at your hands, then your gaze snapped up to meet his.
His smile broadened, as if he were hearing the news of your pregnancy for the first time.
He took his legs off the desk and stood, his figure's shadow almost reaching you.
"You've...read my report, then?" you tried, cautiously. You didn't want to entertain the hundred other possibilities you were considering.
"No." Price's answer was immediate, firm. He walked around his desk, hands behind his back, and stopped before you.
"Then...how could you possibly..."
The realisation had been there, nestled between your other speculations like a pea between mattresses, pricking you, making you uncomfortable.
Price brought a hand to the side of your face, holding it.
His large hands would have, at any other time, brought you great comfort. But now...
You took a step back, one hand over where your child was, the other ready to defend you.
Only now did Price's smile falter. His gaze became colder, serious.
"Now, now, (Y/N), this isn't all doom and gloo-"
"You gave me a fake pill, didn't you!" It wasn't a question, rather an accusation.
Price sighed, rubbing his beard.
You stepped back, inching towards the door.
"You- You knocked me up on purpose!"
"Now don't go throwing 'round accusations like that-"
"Why not? It's true!"
Price lunged at you, covering your mouth with his hand. With the other he pressed a button on the wall - a big red one that looked like it should never be pressed.
Two soldiers came in - makeshift security guards.
Price handed you to them.
"Put her in isolation; she'll be shipped back tomorrow."
And now, in your cell, rocking back and forth, you cried.
You truly believed this to just be a nightmare - nothing more.
And it only worsened when Price visited you.
He pulled up a chair, sitting before you in your cell.
He leaned forward on his thighs as he had done that evening on the operating table.
"It's for your own good-"
"Oh, fuck off."
You were in no mood to barter, to absolve him of his crimes.
Price's brow twitched, yet he remained composed.
"I'm trying to be reasonable here, (Y/N)."
You scoffed. "You're not reasonable. You act on impulse, on flights of fancy. And this is just another byproduct of that."
Price looked somewhat offended.
"You think this is a flight of fancy?" he said. "You think you are just a flight of fancy?"
He pulled his chair closer to your cell, and leaned in.
"I have put more thought and consideration into you than I have done any other person, any other operation-"
"And look where that's gotten us."
"(Y/N), let me speak-"
"Or what?" you challenged. You came up the the glass of the cell, close enough that your breath fogged against it.
"Or what? You're gonna kill me?"
Price shot you a look that made the doubt flicker in your mind - that he actually would.
Price sighed, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm doing this to keep you safe."
Despite the overwhelming urge to interrupt him, to scream bloody murder at him, you let him talk. For now.
Seeing you were finally letting him explain himself, Price continued, his features softening.
"The military's no place for a girl like you, (Y/N)."
"I'm a woman. Not some complacent little schoolgirl fawning over a teacher-"
"Then what would you call how you've been actin' around me, hm?"
A smug look crossed his face. You sought to correct that.
"What do you mean? You pursued me!"
"Then how do you account for all our time together?"
You racked your brain for what he could have possibly been talking about. The only times you'd spent time with him voluntarily felt - mostly - purely platonic. To you, at least.
"Those touches," he said, nigh whispered, his voice sibilant. "Those looks. Those conversations--"
"You mean me doing my job?"
"Oh, come now, don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout."
"Captain-"
"Call me John."
You took a deep breath, trying to compose both yourself and your response.
"John, listen, I don't know what I've done to you, but whatever it is, surely I didn't warrant...this."
"You--" John looked at you as if you'd shot him. "You think this is condemnation?"
You felt confusion bubble in your mind, dyeing your thoughts with the colour of uncertainty.
"You don't?"
John sighed deeply, rubbed his temple.
"This," he began, "is to protect you."
"From what?"
"Your job."
You threw your hands up in the air, feeling as if you'd gotten nowhere - that your questions still hadn't been answered.
"I love my job, John! I love taking care of people, I love the 141, I love-"
"Me?"
Your breath caught in your throat. The look in John's eye was serious as death.
You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn't believe that he mean it - that he loved you. After all, you didn't love him.
"I just don't see what you're trying to protect me from, John." You skirted around his question, folding your arms across your chest.
John acknowledged your answer by not acknowledging it at all.
"You know the risks of my line of work - of our duty,"
He stared dead into your eyes and you couldn't look away.
"And I can't - won't - let you be a victim of it."
"A victim?" Your voice was airy, inflated with disbelief.
"I chose this profession, I have bled for it-"
"Which is exactly my point! I don't want you getting hurt anymore-"
"Why do you care?-"
"Because I love you!"
Price's voice thundered, making your very bones quiver.
The silence that followed was deafening.
You stepped back, more stumbled, the weight of Price's statement shooting past you like a javelin. Just missing you.
Too much ran through your mind after that, making you nigh-unresponsive to John.
Everything that occurred afterwards became a cesspool of moments and emotions, barely strung together by a thread of logic.
A caretaker came in shortly after, telling you, in a voice that was none of which you knew, yet possessing a sentiment you recognised immediately as Price's plan:
"We'll be excusing you from your medical obligations until a year after your child's birth, after which you'll be free to return to work--"
Even through the buzzing of your own anxiety, a flicker of hope lit within you.
"--given that your superior authorises your return."
Aaand it was snuffed out.
Your heart sank, nerves frying, mind going blank.
So this was his scheme, you thought.
24 hours later, an aircraft descended from the heavens to pluck you from reality. And Price was there, over your shoulder, providing little comfort.
He had a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it, squeezing it.
His breath was hot on your neck, unfazed by the cold breeze ushered your way by the blades of the helicopter.
"I'll be with you soon," he told you, uttering it into your ear. Even the cotton-eared effect of the crushing wind and metal couldn't mask his words, his voice.
It sent shivers down your spine. Unsettled you.
Once released from the grip and watchful eye of the Captain, you sprung into action, pleading with the attendee to get help, to do something - that Price was not the valiant hero everyone thought him to be--
And the attendee did nothing.
In fact, they seemed to be on his side, already knowledgeable of Price's misdeeds and not caring for how they affected his victims.
Though, they did admit, he'd never done anything like this before.
"Seems like you're special," they said, leaning back into their seat.
Mortified, and truly alone, you sank back, stomach heavy with the weight of your reality and the life growing inside you.
You were taken home after that, but you knew it was not truly your home.
Price had been here, one way or another; you could tell by how the house no longer felt like you - smelled like you.
And when you checked the crevices and corners, you knew why.
Cameras. Few and far between, but obvious if you knew where to look.
Either Price didn't know you as well as he thought, or he knew you too well; knew that you'd find the cameras, a reminder of your binding to him.
Now and forever. With a man you didn't think capable of such cruelty, nor such "love".
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)
Masterlist
Masterpost
I really like the word “smitten”. because at first glance you just think of sappy lovey-dovey stuff but also you have to remember this is a word that’s born of the word “smite.” a devastating word. a word that, summarized, means stricken. smitten means stricken as well — struck with devastating affection.
Fun question, if a yandere was the type to make a shrine dedicated to you as if you were a legit deity, what would they put on it from the stuff they would steal from you/take from your trash?
Like for me: Fair Trade chocolate wrappers, nigori sake bottles, old paper bookmarks too ripped and worn down to use, empty indie-business lip balm containers, and a metric ton of my hair since it falls out like crazy.
Oh, god. 18, 19, 26, 37. Dark asf. Character? Hmm. Ignis. Go wild.
Some dark as fuck yandere Iggy coming right up. I am always amazed at how quickly dark Iggy comes back to me.
18: “Cry for me, baby.” 19: “I know it hurts, honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do what I say.”
“Cry for me Kitten,” he purrs, voice absolute silk by your ear. “That’s it, get it all out.” The leather of his glove creaks and shifts as he brushes the tears from your cheeks with a soft touch. “I know it hurts, I know,” he coos, “but,” his voice turns suddenly bitter and sharp. He drags his hand down your back. You scream as he digs his tear stained fingers into the fresh welts that cross thickly across your skin. “Shush,” he snaps, “there is no one to blame but yourself.” He releases you from your binds, throwing you roughly onto the bed, thankfully you land on your front. You barely hear the jingle of metal, it sounds so far away, but then his hands are in your hair. He pulls you up, bowing out your back, opening up your wounds as you cry and whimper. “You knew this would happen if you didn’t listen to me,” he taunts, using his other hand to line his cock up with your entrance. He snaps his hips and pushes roughly inside, “this is all your fault.”
26: “I’ll lock you up and throw away the fucking key if you ever even think about doing anything like that again, do you hear me?”
Ignis is absolutely livid as he drags you to the bathroom. He throws you into a stall, backing you up against the wall. He towers over you, his hands gripping bruisingly tight against your arms. He glares down at you, his eyes are so dark, so terrifying, there’s no kindness left in those emerald depths. It just causes you to shrink back further into the wall.
“I just tried to get him to move out of the way,” you plead, your voice so damn pathetic.
His expression doesn’t even falter. “By touching him. By fawning all over him like the filthy whore that you are.”
“I touched his arm for a second.”
He tightens his grip on your arm until you cry out. “You are mine,” he growls through gritted teeth, barely able to restrain his anger. “I am so good to you,” he says, “and this is how you choose to repay me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He hums, pretending to ponder your words. He leans down, yanking at your shoulder to pull you up as you try to shrink down even further. He places his lips by your ear, and his voice is low and steady, unwavering, the intent in it terrifying. “I’ll lock you up and throw away the fucking key if you ever even think of doing anything like that again. Understand?”
All you can do is nod.
“If you don’t kiss me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
“Now let’s try that again Sweetheart,” he murmurs, yanking on your hair and forcing you to face him. It cricks your neck, forces you to strain against the tight bonds that hold you hostage. His face is so close to yours, you can feel the heat of his breath, taste the sickly sweet scent of it. “I’m going to kiss you now, and well if you don’t let me. Then I’ll just slit your damn throat.”
The Break
Pairing(s): Fem!MC/Yuu/Reader x TBD
Summary: MC finally shuts down from all of her acts of helping with overblots and the countless favors/demands that are asked of her. When the Prefect of Ramshackle is the one who needs help, who steps forward?
WARNINGS
I am not the best at labeling warnings or triggers but I can say that this story is laden with neglect, self-neglect, anxiety, possible depression and attempts to justify the above. There could be more labels that I can add but i’m unsure how to word them - so please exercise caution.
Quick Note: The reader in this story is largely based upon Cinderella, for multiple reasons (#1 being that I want to and #2 being that I absolutely love Cinderella and think she’s amazingヾ(•ω•`)o ) . If that type of character behavior annoys or offends you, I recommend skipping this!
Keep reading
The fallen angel
dream come true ♥ yan!succubus x reader pt. 1
This short fantasy series is inspired by and dedicated to the lovely @iingezo on one of my favorite holidays—their birthday!
On the fringe of your most indulgent fantasies hides a seductive shade biding her time until she could wait no longer. The lines between fantasy and reality blur in just the right way when you wake up in a dream come true. Can you escape or will you give in to a woman too good to be true? Close your eyes and drift away. Let her take your hands and your heart.
Elegant fingers massaged your scalp with tender care. The scent of Chinese roses and tree peonies was in the air, and you could hear a low melodious voice. Your head rested on something soft and every now and then you would feel something akin to a feather brush against the tip of your nose. You could lay there forever, more relaxed than you had ever felt in your life, but you chanced a peak anyways. A long tendril of deep blue hair was the cause of the feather light touch. Navy tresses framed her heart shaped face, soft waves spilling over her shoulders. Thickly lashed eyes dark as obsidian gazed upon you as her glossy violet lips opened into a small ‘o’ of surprise. Pearl white teeth flashed for a moment, once sharp and alarming but then, normal and squared before you could react. The only things that nearly obscured your view of her enchanting visage was an ample chest clothed in an antique lace negligee reminiscent of something worn on a honeymoon. She was something out of your wildest dreams and you smiled slightly, sure that this was one.
“Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty.” The true beauty crooned. Her fingers gently caressed your cheeks as she gazed down at you with something akin to adoration. How you deserved such a thing was lost on you, but you wouldn’t deny it if she was offering. You weren’t an idiot. Her voice was music to your ears and as much as you wouldn’t mind laying in her lap this was a dream, and you would surely be well rested in the morning. You rolled over and out of her lap, not noticing how her sharp nails as black as pitch lightly grazed your skin as if she was trying to pull you back in place. Sitting up, you could fully take in the striking stranger. She threw her nearly navy locks behind her shoulder, exposing the full contours of her bust and waist. With lightly toned arms and the legs of a dancer, she was both admirable and enviable.
Finding your words, you tried to take charge of this dream. “Wh-who are you?” You tilted your head as you gazed into her eyes meaningfully. They were like the depths of the ocean—something unfathomable and worthy of both fear and wonder. She smiled as she extended her legs in front of you and crossed one over the other in your lap. The short skirt of her negligee drifted upward as she did, but you didn’t take the chance to peek which she noticed this with mild disappointment. “I’m yours,” she extended the back of her hand towards you, “But if you must, you may call me Aurora. A pleasure.”
Feeling lighthearted in this dream, you took her hand in yours, “Y/n. The pleasure’s all mine.” You placed a chaste kiss on the back of it and she giggled coquettishly.
“You learn fast.”
You took it as a compliment and looked all around you. You both sat on a plush bed with comforters made of the finest threads and scattered with Chinese rose petals. It was a canopy that floated with no strings, and you realized light pink clouds drifted all around you. The skies were streaked in peach, lavender, and canary yellow casting a warm glow that backlit Aurora’s hair and gave her a halo. “Where are we?” You looked around incredulously. You had always imagined something like this but to be here and aware was a whole new thing. A bright smile nearly split your face in two and she gazed at you lovingly.
“We’re wherever I want us to be.”
She extended her arms and suddenly you both were in a cave with glowing stalactites with colors that flowed like those within a lava lamp. Green, yellow and orange fireflies lazily drifted around you both, and you could see a crystalline spring not too far off and surrounded by glowing moss and candles. Stalagmites of white and rose gold ensconced the bed you both now sat on, and you didn’t have much time to enjoy the scenery before you were somewhere else. You now drifted in an ornate boat across a vast emerald ocean. You could see islands of lush foliage and white sands in the distance, and cute sea creatures brushed up against your floating vessel wanting to be petted. Aurora sat across from you, your legs intertwined, as she held an exotic drink in one hand. When you caught her eye, she giggled again and splashed you with the other. “Seriously?” You splashed back and her giggle became a full laugh. Her white negligee was plastered to her skin more than ever as she tossed the drink away and splashed you with full force. You couldn’t let her get away with that and continued the assault. One thing led to another, and you both were clasping hands and throwing each other over the edge.
You landed in a grassy plain beneath a baby blue sky. The scent of tulips and sweet grasses tickled your senses. You looked over at her and she tossed onto her side, one head resting on open palm. As you chuckled, she continued to gaze at you lovingly, training her eyes to not miss a single detail.
You wiped some tears and finally turned to look at her, catching her intense gaze. “I don’t know if this is rude or not…”
Her teeth were sharpened and sparkling in the light. “Anything, darling.”
You couldn’t sugarcoat what you meant. This was a dream, sure, but this woman felt more real than anyone you had met in a long time. She was an enigma and you needed to know more.
“What are you...?”
I just had a thought… working at the bakery within walking distance of the yandere art school. Freshly graduated from the culinary arts program, you are the store’s sweet heart with a sweet smile and chipper disposition. Who’s spending way too much on pastries to see you every day?
i've thought about putting a culinary arts program - but im not sure if it actually counts as art...and my only reasoning for this is because of an anime (Magic-Kyun Renaissance) bc it's an anime about a magic art school and one of the characters becomes a master at pastries and cooking...it's a good show tho-
Narancia came with Guido, who wouldn't stop raving about this new sweets shop, and decided to see if the bakery had anything he'd like. He liked sweets and he was free at the moment. Just the display window had Narancia's mouth watering, all of the beautifully decorated cakes, light and fluffy cream puffs, crispy and golden tarts and pies, and so on. And then he met you - you were so...pretty. You smiled like an angel, you talked with a voice of silk, and you were so kind to everyone you helped. You even helped him pick out something he might like, settling on an orange tart. It was so delicious, he could of cried. You decided to chat with him since the bakery was kinda empty at the moment - you looked at him with such bright eyes when he talked about his different woodwork projects and his major. You just graduated the culinary section of the school and loved the neighborhood and general area so much that you made your shop here - and that you were pretty much making everything he saw in front of him. Oh, he would definitely be coming back - he wanted try the orange pound cake and he wanted to keep talking to you. Narancia comes by everyday to order some orange dessert and talk to you - you even give him samples of secret creations since he came by everyday. Don't be surprised when you're given a brand new wooden rolling pin, with such detailed carvings to make an imprint on the pastry dough. Narancia couldn't help but let his mind wander off...Taking you out of that cramped kitchen and into his house, baking and smiling for just him.
Guido is quite the foodie, especially loving Dolce and different cakes. He saw that you just opened up and decided to swing by after buying some supplies for his newest project. His stomach rumbled with just the smell of freshly-baked cake wafting into the air. And then he sees the cutie who was running the place - he remembered seeing you around the cafeteria area but you mostly stayed in the culinary section of the school. He regretted not talking to you earlier - You were so sweet and kind, helping him pick out the most delectable strawberry cake and laughing and beaming with pride when Guido complemented your cake. Guido definitely comes by often - to either eat cake or a quick pastry or to just chat you up. He was gonna tell Pannacotta about this place...But decided not to. He just wanted to be in your eyes a little longer. Like seeing you press a strawberry past his lips and smiling and giggling like an innocent angel...Oh, how he wanted to protect this smile. Guido even finds excuses to go to your bakery, just to see his sweet little chef. He'll definitely try to sweeten you up and try to get you to go out with him, it'll ease his mind even when he sees you chatting with the other male customers or that person you work with - Squalo.
Ghiaccio is a secret sweet tooth, he doesn't wanna deal with the bullshit he'll get for liking such sugary sweets. So he goes in private to different bakeries and shops for his fix. He just happened to walk by a display window of rather delectable macarons and tarts and decided to stop in. He's rather cold and uninviting, going straight to the point and ordering what he wanted. Ghiaccio watched you run around in the back kitchen since it was just you tonight, chattering and asking Ghiaccio. Letting him know that you just graduated from the school and opened your shop because you liked the area so much. Ghiaccio found it odd that you were so eager to learn about him - asking if he went there, what his major was, what he planned to do afterwards. No one really ever asked him or was interested, since he was usually reprimanded from his family of lawyers that he wanted to be an artist. It was just weird to have someone genuinely interested in him. He'll come back, but he says its because they were really good macrons. You even see him light up at the taste. He swings by for his usual order and it's usually quiet, but he begins to warm up to you. His heart throbbing when you just smile at him or listen to him rant, or even when you told him you just made a fresh batch of the macrons he liked because you knew he was coming in today. Ghiaccio felt...Loved. Like he could be himself with you. He'd cuss himself out for thinking romantic thoughts of you and melt at the thought of even just kissing you and seeing you smile just for him. But...the unexplainable rage he felt when he found out you mostly had a staff of men. His teeth ground and anger filled his brain when he saw that man, Carne, dare to touch his filthy hands on you or to even talk to you. He didn't belong there, none of them did...In fact, none of these cretins deserve to even be around you. You were his special person.
Noriaki was tired, dealing with his pack of grade schoolers and teaching them how to paint, breaking up paint fights, and etc. He needed a pick me up. He was gonna get coffee, but saw the delectable sweets you had displayed in the window - maybe something sugary can help. He couldn't deny how charming and delightful you were, and the pastries you made were simply delicious - his favorites had to be the cherry tart and the cherry cheesecake. He was delighted to talk to you, and he had someone to talk about his rowdy kids to since you were so interested. Noriaki could tell you had it in for him as well, with how you looked at him and those sweet smiles - not to be a narcissist, but he had plenty of people look at him like that in the past when they were crushing hard. He'd order from you for his students when they were doing well or for events. But he mostly came by for himself, chatting with you and enjoying your presence. You must put something in these baked goods, because he felt like cupid struck and arrow into his heart...So much that you were in his mind 24/7...He could black out and realize he made such a beautiful panting of you, either with the sweet smile and looking all innocent...Or his mind wandering and painting more lewd things, something that looked like cream on your face as you smile and take it...Oh, how he wanted to break that sweet and delightful person...
Lesson 16.5: Obey Me Brothers x GN!MC
How I think Lesson 16 should’ve ended, with the MC returning to their original timeline.
Genre: Angst, fluff
Word Count: 3.1k
TW: Mentions of violence/death
It was jarring to see yourself die. It was even more jarring to experience it. Your body had no bruises but the crushing pressure of Belphegor’s grip was painfully squeezing your heart. It numbed your body, barely registering how you were led to the living room and sat down on a chair by the brothers. They were bickering about you, which was no new occurrence but the words went in one ear and out the other. Their piercing voices couldn’t knock you out of your daze. Only one voice did.
“There must have been so many things you’ve all wanted to do for Lillith over the years!”
It was an innocent comment from Diavolo who stood before you, waking you out of your stupor. Ah yes, Lilith. The one you’re descended from, the one who saved you. The one whose blood coursed through your veins.
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may I request a snippet of a vampire visiting his arch nemesis (vampire slayer) who’s terminally ill and taunting her that he could turn her if he wanted to and she wouldn’t be able to stop him? preferably 1800s setting. if you don’t have time or you just don’t want to that is completely fine!
"I haven't invited you in." Even now, despite everything, she didn't have to open her eyes to sense him there. To feel the chill of him like death itself had finally come.
"Your servant did," the vampire replied. "When I asked after you. I was most concerned for your welfare."
She cracked open her eyes, even if it would do no good, even when it took far more effort than it should have to fix her blurry vision upon him. She was too weak to fight. It was better to pretend to be careless than to confront the fact that she couldn't stop him even if she saw him coming. Her hand still fumbled for the wooden stake at her bedside - old instinct.
"You smell like death." His head tilted as he approached her bedside with uncanny grace, examining her. "Are you frightened?"
"I do not fear death."
"No." He sat down on the edge of mattress, and took her frail hand in his, preventing her from seizing the weapon with a damning ease. She tried to jerk away from the touch to no avail. He held her fist on his knee and patted it in an obscene parody of comfort. "You fear becoming like me. You fear living, and all that living will demand of you."
She swallowed, eyeing him. "You are not alive."
He looked it though. Certainly, out of the two of them, nobody could be blamed for thinking her the walking corpse rather than the reverse. He was as radiant and beautiful as he had been the day they met, when she had only been a foolish young girl, all those years ago. For a moment, just the briefest moment, she had thought him an angel.
No one knew, exactly, what was wrong with her. They only knew they couldn't help her. She only knew she did not have long left.
"Is that why you hid yourself?" he asked. "So I would not save you?"
"You are nobody's salvation either, least of all mine."
"You would not be able to stop me." He turned her hand over in his, exposing the startling blue of her veins. She had become pallid. Thin. A paper hunter, to be blown away with a breath. He traced a nail gently over the line, threatening to break skin. "I could turn you. You would despite that, wouldn't you, Miss Harper?"
Panic thundered in her chest, exhausted though her heart may have been. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
She could scream for help, but no one in the house would be able to stop him either. They didn't know him. She made another lunge for the stake.
He caught her other wrist, plucking it from the air and settling it back down at her side. He smiled.
She refused to beg. She refused to let tears prickle her eyes.
"If you damn me, you will die," she hissed, instead. "I will have all eternity to finish you-"
"Assuming you even want to."
"Of course I would want to!"
"Why would you want to?" His smile grew. "You would be a soulless monster, as you claim me to be. What care would you have for my actions, then? You may even be grateful for the new existence I have granted you. Aren't you the first to preach that a vampire is not the same creature as they were in life?"
She was. She did.
"By that reckoning, you cannot guarantee that your salvation," she spat the word like it was poison, hoarse though her voice was, "will be the torment you wish it to be either. If I am so changed as to spare you then I imagine I would be so changed as to welcome your curse as a gift. And." She tried for a smile of her own, twisted though it was. "I cannot imagine you would want any happiness for me, let alone an eternal pleasure." She let the smile drop for contempt. "Your sly attempts at cruelty only reveal your own deception."
He laughed. "I see this ill health of yours has not yet clouded your mind, Miss Harper."
She heard the words only distantly; the impassioned speech had inflamed something in her ruined body, bringing about a sharp coughing fit that had her writhing and gasping wracked for air. The tears prickled to her eyes all the same as the seconds passed and she couldn't get it to stop.
His laughter stopped. He made a soothing murmur, nonsensical, and no less mocking for its pretence at easing her pain, easing her to sit up in his arms as if she weighed nothing. When she finally managed to catch her breath again, there was an odd expression on his unreadable countenance, if only for a mere heartbeat before it was gone.
She didn't think the two of them had ever been in this close proximity. She flinched back.
"How the mighty fall." He was cold now, disdainful of her mortality exposed in all its vulnerability. "This is quite pitiful."
Still, he did not let go of her hands, even as he set her back down upon the bed.
"You are correct," he said, more briskly. "Turning you would not be a satisfying victory if it did not torture you so exquisitely. What else, then?" He hummed, thoughtful, and his eyes, too, were cold. All the truths of him revealed. "Perhaps I will parade your servants and helpers before you? Spill their blood across your deathbed as a farewell gift?"
She shivered and glared. She could not stop him from that course of action either; not without dying, and fast, so as to take away all motivation.
"I will have to think on it, won't I? For now..." He let go of her hand, furthest from the stake, and bit down into his own wrist.
"Mmph." She didn't haven't opportunity to protest before he'd forced the spilled blood to her lips, with all of their terrible healing and awful promise.
"I think." He shifted position, looming over her like the illustrations in an old fairytale, and flashed her the same smile as when they first met. "I will give you a few more weeks. This is only too entertaining."
Her death, to him, had always been his to take.
I noticed there's no Garou on your masterlist soooo: Garou and “I know you don’t want this, but I’m going to continue until you need me.” or “I’m not doing this because I hate you, I do it because I love you.” Kinda similar wording but either could be wildly different.
(I think I've written for him once or twice, I'm just a lazy fuck who hasn't updated the masterlist lol)
Garou/Darling: "I know you don't want this, but I'm going to continue until you need me."
TW: noncon/dubcon
He knew it was stupid to take them, he knew it. But they never made it easy for him to think clearly. He had been wandering the streets, looking for any place he could sleep without drawing too much attention. The alleys didn't look comfortable, but it was better than nothing. And just by chance, ____ had spotted him on the sidewalk and--noting his scabbed-over wounds and bruises from a bout with a Hero--immediately dropped everything to ask if he needed help.
He'd never had anyone ask that before, and he didn't know what to say aside from the first thing that had come to mind: "I'm starving." Surprisingly ____ had just smiled and taken him to the nearby Don Quijote to buy him a ready-made meal, some snacks and drinks, and some bandages and disinfectant for his cuts. "There's a capsule hotel a few blocks from here," they'd said, motioning for Garou to follow them. "But I've only got enough spare cash to have you stay for a night or two. Hmm..." ____ looked him up and down. "You don't give off any creepy vibes...I've got a couch that turns into a futon, if you want to spend a few days in my apartment."
Garou's stomach was so full from the noodles they'd bought him, and he didn't want to spend any more time out in the cold if he didn't have to now that he had felt nice and warm over the hour they'd spent in the convenience store. Without thinking about if this was a trap or if it was a good idea to trust a stranger so much, he'd agreed and followed them to his temporary home.
Weeks had passed since then, and he'd just finished the last box of cookies that ____ had bought for him as he lay on the ruined couch of Takeo's "hideout." His primary focus was on survival, but he kept finding that his thoughts always led back to ____. They had cared for him without any reason to. Hell, they were the closest thing to a Hero he'd seen so far and they were a weak little thing. If he'd really wanted to, he could've torn them apart with just a flick of his fingers in their apartment.
That little realization quickly snowballed into a desire to keep an eye on ____, just to protect them from anyone who might take advantage of their kindness. Garou insisted that it was just so he could repay the debt he owed them, and that was all. Still, his mind couldn't help but wander more and more whenever he watched over them from afar. They were so blissfully unaware of Monsters, Heroes, just working their boring little job and coming home to their apartment with a tired smile. Every time he saw it he wished he was back on their couch to see them smile from a closer distance, hear them talk about their boring uneventful day and ask him again if he wanted green tea or black tea with his Cup Noodles. Feel them pat his back when they thought he was asleep. Feel their warmth against his skin. Against his tongue and teeth.
His eyes widened as he stared at them through the window. Where the fuck had THAT thought come from? He'd been so shocked and strangely flustered by it that he'd left to return to the hideout and tossed and turned on his couch until he eventually fell asleep. He'd never felt much interest in other people (romantic or otherwise) unless he was sparring or fighting someone worth his attention. But he didn't find himself wanting to fight ____; after all, it would be more of a slaughter than a fair bout. He was feeling...something. Something that made his face warm and his chest tight and his cock twitching whenever he imagined seeing their face.
The dream he'd had that night didn't help either. He had finally become the monster he'd always wanted to be, a terrifying mass of sharp fangs and claws with a menacing feral aura as he tore and slashed at everything that blocked his path. ____ was the only being that didn't run away in fear or tried in vain to attack him; instead, they'd walked slowly to him and carefully placed a hand on his snarling face before smiling sweetly. They discarded some of their clothes and then lay on the ground in front of them in only their underwear, beckoning him to come down and join them. Garou leaned down to pin them underneath him, tore their last bits of clothing with one of his claws, and licked a long stripe down their cheek before biting down on their neck. Just as he was about to mount them and fuck them senseless--
He'd woken up, sweating bullets with a hard-on straining against his pants. Fuck. Fuck, he needed to do something about this. He had started to pull down his pants and had only given his shaft a few pumps. Still, just fucking his hand and letting his imagination wander wasn't enough. He wanted ____'s warm body around him, to hear them whine and beg for him to fill them up and look at them panting underneath him while he pins their ankles over their head to mate with them like a fucking animal.
Garou growled in frustration and pulled up his underwater and the waistband of his pants, still half-hard. He wiped the precum off of his palm and headed out to break into ____'s apartment while they were at work. If he was going to do this for real, he'd need some time to prepare.
The first signs of guilt started to tug at the back of his mind when he entered their apartment once again. He had no idea if ____ wanted him like that or even felt anything outside of sympathy or pity for him after they'd found him wandering the streets. Was he really going to repay the person who'd been so kind to him by hurting them like this?
He sat on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep his thoughts from racing and think clearly. I want to be a monster, but this is...different, he thought. But monsters take what they want, don't they? They have the strength and power to do that, and then kill anyone who tries to get in the way. I want to do that. I want to BE that. He noticed a small framed photo of ____ with a friend on a nearby table and stared at it. Monsters don't fall in love though, assuming that's what I'm feeling right now. But I bet lots of them have mates. That's what I want. I want ____ to be my mate. I can still protect them and make them mine, even when I've finally become a monster.
He made his final decision and resolved himself, and headed to their bedroom to lie in wait for when they came home in an hour or so. If he was going to become the first human monster, then ____ would become the first human mate for him.
____ had only just locked their door before they got the feeling that something was off in their apartment. Nothing looked out of place, and they couldn't hear any signs of someone inside, but there was still something in the air that made their hair stand on end. They narrowed their eyes and reached for their phone to enter the emergency police number into the keypad, and as they cautiously walked through the house their finger hovered over the dial button.
Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the living room. Nothing in the bathroom. As they headed towards the only room left in the apartment, they held their breath and found themselves shaking slightly with every step forward. They had only gotten a few steps inside before a strong pair of arms grabbed them and quickly knocked the phone out of their hand. ____ tried to scream, but the intruder had already clapped a hand over their mouth before pinning them to the bed. ____'s eyes widened when they recognized the person looking down at them with shining golden eyes that made them shiver.
"Don't scream," Garou ordered quietly. "Or I'll have to make you quiet." He tightened his grip around their jaw and they whimpered. They reluctantly nodded and he moved his hand from their mouth to pin both of their arms above their head.
"Why?" ____'s voice was wobbly and thick with tears that were already threatening to spill. "I just wanted to help you. Please, Garou, don't do this. You don't have to--"
Garou's clothed cock brushed against their thighs as he started to rut against them. He had wanted to hold back long enough to explain why he was doing this, but after feeling their warm body squirming underneath his he couldn't take it any more. He tried to comfort them a bit by slightly loosening his grip on their wrists and caressing them with his thumb; when he leaned down to sloppily kiss them, he felt their tears as they wet both his and their cheeks.
He finally broke the kiss to pin their sides with his legs and hold them in place while he pulled their shirt off over their head and tugged their pants off. He was ready to pin their arms down the second he felt them try to escape or fight back, but all ____ did was cover their face now that their arms were free. He finally tore their panties off of them, leaving them completely naked and trembling before removing all of his own clothes as well. If he was going to claim ____ as a mate, he didn't want a single part of their bodies hidden from each other.
Garou clasped his hands around their wrists and slowly pushed them back to either side of their head so he could see their face again. As he rutted against their pressed-together thighs, smearing a thin layer of precum into their soft skin, he moaned and moved down to kiss and nip at their neck. "I know...you don't want this," he said haltingly, groaning when the head of his cock slipped between their plush thighs. "But I'm going to keep going until you need me, just as much as I need you." He used one free hand to pry their legs apart and pressed a thick index finger against their entrance; the two of them hissed as he explored their incredibly tight and velvety walls. He was unbearably warm before when he thought about touching them, but now he felt like his hand was melting inside of his mate's core.
Garou kissed their neck again as he continued to finger them, and when he bit down on their collarbone with his sharp canines they winced and cried out. He licked and gently kissed the wound as a small apology for getting to excited, but he also noted how their walls had clenched around his finger after he'd bitten them. Maybe he wasn't the only one that would enjoy him making his dreams come true.
Shameless monsterfucker anon. Garou breeding the hell out of darling on honeymoon.
He never really gave much thought to marriage, aside from how he'd like to see his Darling all dressed up. Monsters don't get married, but they do have mates; he thinks of it as declaring them his for life, and he gets the best of both worlds. The "wedding" probably wasn't even a legally binding thing, he just steals a pair of rings and the dress for them. He doesn't steal a tuxedo for himself, he just wears that nice turtleneck (he figures that if he's just gonna tear their clothes off, he doesn't really need to wear something so complicated)
The only intact piece of that wedding dress is MAYBE the veil, because once it's "honeymoon" time after he slips the ring on Darling's finger and they promise to stay with each other forever, that thing is getting torn the fuck OFF. His monster features would come out the moment he kisses his bride, growing some small lil claws and easily ripping the dress off of his mate as he litters their neck with kisses and bites.
His other features like the red hair and fucked-up eye come out later, since they seem tied to his level of emotions and/or stress. In this case it isn't negative stress, but that eagerness to breed his mate as soon as possible. He's already rock hard and his cock is shiny with precum when he rips off his trousers to line himself up with his Darling once he gets rid of the lacy underwear adorning their body. The monster in him feels so good tearing and ripping clothes that are so elegant and "pure" and pretty, and even if the dress isn't scraps by the end of the night it's torn and can't really be worn practically anymore.
He immediately pushes their legs up to put his mate into a mating press, and once he lines himself up with their entrance he immediately starts pounding them. Even if his Darling is begging him to slow down, he just...can't. He still wants them to feel good, so he'd use one of his hands to play with their clitoris and he'd use his tongue to spiral and suck on their nipples until they're stiff and sensitive to the slightest touch.
His stamina is ridiculously high, and he'd not able to stop until he's about to pass out. That sensation of his mate's tight cunt around him was so wonderful; why would he ever want to leave that warmth? He also cums a ridiculous amount, so his Darling is going to be literally stuffed with semen and he loves the lewd squelching sound of him fucking his cum into them while it trickles out of them and mixes with their own fluids.
He would fall asleep before even having the chance to pull out, and he'd have a blissful smile on his face while he drifts off to sleep. He and his mate are both radiating heat, and he'd wake up while instinctively nuzzling their neck and feeling his cock twitch inside of them.
MC:I don't need a prideful man, I need someone who's not afraid to cry in front of others while he speaks his thoughts out
Satan:Lucifer's out of the picture
Belphie:that means less competitio-
MC:I also don't need someone who killed me once.
Belphie:
Satan:pff-
Lucifer:what was that phrase again? Oh right, "sucks to be you"