Warnings: Infidelity, Adultery, Toxic friendship, toxic relationship, cheating gojo, and so much smut!
Reblogs are appreciated!
Masterlist | Chapter 1 → Chapter 2
Chapter 1 - Pure Evil ⁎
Bzz bzz bzz
It was constant. Your eyelashes fluttered as they opened. The light beamed in through the window, was it late-morning already? Vision glazed over before your hands left the edge of the blanket to rub them. One-two blinks before your gaze was finally clear.
You couldn't help but squint from the bright sky outside, the nicest its been in weeks. Looking around your room, your brain was finally starting to leave that dazed state and actually wake up. Your phone buzzed a few more times before you slowly turned your head like it owed you an apology for waking you up. A moment of a glare.
An irritated sleepy sigh leaves your lips, your hand ran along the fabric of the bedsheet before your fingers found the cold device. Yanking it, you pulled it off the charger. Clicking the power button, the device turns on.
"Shit-"
You were flashbanged by your own phone. Seemingly, your phone is now your opp. Swiping down aggressively before the menu finally pops up. Your brightness gets turned ALL the way down.
"Who the hell is bothering me before lunch?.." You mumbled to yourself.
Pouting at the world, you begrudgingly open your messages. Sayuri; your bestfriend since middle school. So your first thought was, "what happened now?" Because she was one of the wildest extroverted women you have ever met in your life.
Clubbing every other night, always wearing sinful clothes like she had zero things to worry about. She really did to be fair, you never fully understood it. However from what you grasped from her explanation years ago, her family is rich and she can see things only certain people can? Shes a schizophrenic in a fantasy world basically.
Evil. Pure evil.
She knows just how much you hate getting up early in the morning, you might just have to fight her for waking you up so early. Nonetheless, you pulled yourself out of bed to get ready for this nightmare of a meet up where you will be the grumpiest woman and she will be ever so ready to handle you with excitement and whatever new tea she wants to tell you.
Proceeding to the bathroom, your hair still partially wet from last night. You had gotten home from being her designated driver, and she had thrown up on you. So your only choice had been a 3 AM shower. Trailing your fingers up to your scalp to run through your tangled hair.
Eventually it pissed you off enough to reach for the brush. Today truly is a threat your soul.
Once you tamed your hair like the wild animal it was, you reached for your toothbrush. But it wasn't there, because it so happened to have fallen in the trash when you grabbed your brush without you having realized. Your eyes narrowed in disgust. "Fuck my life." You turned to the pantry in your bathroom, wrapping your hand around the knob. The door opened with a loud annoying creak.
You could feel your eye twitching from how irritating your morning has been, and its only been 8 fucking minutes.
Tapping around in the small dark pantry to find the thin box of toothbrushes, you found the casing and grabbed it. Opening it just to find none left. Today was going absolutely swell.
"Oh my GODDDD!.."
Mentally flipping the bird to the world and Sayuri. They were both to blame for your shit luck and this terrible day that had only just started. You turned back to the sink, having only two choices.
One, you use the trash toothbrush after washing it, but it still wouldn't really be clean or...
Your eyes found your finger before you mumbled a quick "fuck it." You turned on the sink, halfway on hot, halfway on cool so you get warm perfect water. You put your hand beneath the soap dispenser. Pumping 3 times before scrubbing your hands like your life depended on it.
When you were 1000000% sure that your hands were clean, your hand wrapped around the tube of toothpaste, your brain already noting to get more toothbrushes. Squeezing the container before it spilled the glob of toothpaste onto your hand.
You took in a shaky breath before you shoved your finger into your mouth. Gagging slightly before just focusing on the minty taste, scrubbing at your teeth with the toothpaste.
Spitting out the white frothy saliva into the running water. You brushed your teeth with your finger as fast as you could. You dipped your head under the faucet and gurgled water before spitting out the rest of the toothpaste. The hard part of today was finally over right?
Wrong.
It was 9:02, and you still weren't out of the house. You had thrown on a white t-shirt, a yellow headband to keep your hair out of your face, light blue jeans, ankle-socks, and black vans with yellow sunflowers on them. You had a sort of pep in your step as you made your way out of the house. You had one thing to look forward to, whatever tea that was about to be spilled by Sayuri!
Practically skipping your way to the corner cafe. Glancing through the glass of the cute little place, your eye caught onto your bestfriend. Pushing the door open, her eyes watched you come in with a glint of excitement that matched your own.
"This drama better be good, Sayuri, otherwise I'm beating you to death with my credit card."
She hummed before happily bursting out, "No tea! Exciting news though,"
News? You tilted your head, because what news could possibly have made her this eager to talk to yo-
"Are you pregnant?" You spoke out, it was a thought and it made sense. She went out clubbing a lot, what if she really was pregnant? Eyes wide and pupils dilated as if expecting her to drop the bombshell on you.
She froze and stared at you. Then her cheeks puffed up before she laughed loud enough to have the entire cafe turning to look at the loud lady sitting down as you stared at her. You plopped down onto the seat infront of her own and shoved your hands over her mouth.
"Pregnant? God no-" she muffled beneath your palm. Giggles a rhythm you've heard for as long as you could remember. You slowly removed your palms from her mouth, her gloss imprint on them. You rubbed them against your pants to remove the gloss. "Then what is so important I had to be woken up so early?
But this time, she really did have a bombshell.
"Im getting married!" She squealed and you dropped your phone onto the table, jaw dropping further than you thought it could.
"Excuse me?"
The disbelief in your voice was prominent to the point that she froze. Tilting her own head at your confusion. "Whats wrong?" Her fingers strummed against the table anxiously, like you had reacted way different from what she expected.. which was usually what happens anyway.
"You can't get married! Who? I haven't even met the guy, how do you know hes good for you?" You explained and interrogated like it was as simple as breathing or eating. Like she should've known you would want to know every detail and be the parental figure to decide if the guy was good for her.
She sighed before mumbling, "well its an arranged marriage.." which made you sit straight up.
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Warnings: matriarchal world, bxg, mpreg, reader is A RED FLAG, incompetent, gaslighting, manipulation (by reader)
+++ Yes! The muscly person in pic is YOU, the reader. God, I love toxic readers--we need a hoard of em', well whether you are toxic or not or just tired of life, that's up for you to judge in this fic lmao
─ m.lists
Archie Bonetti. A TikTok, sensation. 5 million followers and still growing, with almost every video having million eyes watching it, is a pop culture icon. From GRWM + life tea and reviews in regards to food, makeup and dresses, he has a good range. He's the ultimate IT boy. He started his career from a YouTube channel and just being silly in his high school years, doing all sorts of goofy shit on the channel with his friends. The most important ones were his "How to become the man that gets chased" one in which he told his audience what kind of partner to be and what is the ideal woman to be with.
He never realized that life would reward him so much by just appearing in front of the camera and doing what he likes. But having fame has its own costs.
Heavy ones.
Being constantly judged. Having different opinions that revolves around you, some labeling you as the beautiful boy that give mean boy vibes to just a blunt reviewer, dome call you funny, some don't...yada yada, you know the drill. But with time one becomes content with their life. Engagement brings in money even if it's negative, money brings Archie happiness and the whole cycle keeps feeding his ego.
Where you do you come along? Well, you are a finance sis.
Yup.
His friends and him tried that.. going to certain restaurants in New York where big finance sisters with EVER BIGGER pockets come in thingy and it worked.
It wasn't like he wanted money, he had enough, but it was him wanting something that everyone was dying for...if that makes sense. Like introducing a girlfriend in finance just...sounded hot to him, just make sense of it yourself because that's how his brain works. also the fact that a girl that busy and focused might not be aware of him, proved true because you had no idea what influencers actually did except review products, do makeup and yap in front of a cam? Especially boys neither you had any interest (you zoned out at his babbling 15 minutes into the date). But he was hot and young. Perfect opportunity and you didn't have much time to play around. You wanted to settle and be done with this stupid responsibility. Maybe popping out a kid in a year or two sounds great.
Yeah, you were thinking all this when he was yapping about what camera lens is better.
Once, halfway through dinner, he stopped mid-sentence and stared.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing," he said, smiling. "You just look like someone who knows exactly what they want."
You did. A house. Stability. A partner who didn't need babysitting. He fit. He listened. He was young enough to mold and old enough to commit.
When he finally asked, awkwardly, nervously, if you were exclusive, you didn't dramatize it. "Yes," you said. "I don't date multiple people."
His face lit up like you'd proposed.
That night, when he kissed you for the first time, it was careful. Like he was afraid you'd change your mind if he moved too fast. You didn't kiss back immediately, just let him, and the way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know. Later, lying beside you, he talked again.
You stared at the ceiling, arm draped loosely over him.
He quieted on his own, curling closer like he belonged there.
You thought, distantly, this will work.
And when he fell asleep first, trusting, warm, utterly convinced , you didn't move him away.
You let him stay.
Because you didn't need love stories. You needed something steady.
And he needed someone to handle him. It was convenient like that.
And he soft launched you...accidentally that is.
He was filming a video , gorgeous lighting. Dewy makeup. Hair in soft waves. He's smiling too much for no reason. At the end, he turns the camera to show the outfit: oversized sweater, silver necklace, glossy lips. He adjusts the camera… and then a mysterious hand enters the frame, fixing his collar.
Just the hand. Just your hand.
He freezes , blush exploding across his cheeks.
"Um… thanks," he whispers. You walk out of frame. No face. No voice. Just presence.
Comments explode:
@ lalaland: WHO's HAND IS THAT?!?!? 👁️👁️👁️
@ kiwistan: Soft launch?!? Our boy is TAKEN???
@ yapper67: He looks so happy I'm crying
@ cumcumber: you mean our gf😊?
@ gaga'sshoelace: Her fingers look strong, omg he's whipped already
Archie replies to one comment:
":)"
────
But fast forward to now...his viewers hated you.
Like, hated you.
Not in a normal way. In a clip-compilation, unemployed-as-fuck, parasocial, forensic-analysis way. They stitched his videos frame by frame. Slowed them down. Zoomed in. You became a concept. A case study. A villain.
It started small.
A clip of Archie on live, smiling too much. "Yeah, my girlfriend's working late again. She's busy-no, like, actually busy." Says Archie, picking up a wet towel from bed.
The comments went-
@ glopy: does he always defend her? Like all this jus' cuz someone's hot and 6ft? Plz-
@ merekia: She doesn't even show up for him. LIKE IT'S OUR BOY ARCHIE WE TALKING BOUT?! How can you bag such a fine shyt and be such an asshole to them?
@ urpersonalnekomaid: Notice how he said "actually busy" like he's convincing himself.
Another clip.
He's filming a GRWM, applying concealer. "She says I don't need this but I like looking nice for her."
Comments immediately go:
@ jillex: WHY is he seeking her approval?
@ Haleop: She's definitely controlling his self-esteem. He ain't a boyboss I knew him to be anymore...@ gogoboi: This feels emotionally one-sided.
Then came the worst one.
A casual vlog. You’re off-camera. Barely audible.
Archie laughs and says, "No, she doesn't watch my videos. She doesn't even know what half of this means."Silence for half a second.
Then chaos.
@ kelio: SHE DOESN’T SUPPORT HIS CAREER???
@ jalepneo: That's actually insane.
@ hellokitty32: If my partner didn't watch my content, I'd cry.
@ getorade: She thinks she's better than him.
Someone made a compilation titled:
"Archie's Girlfriend Red Flags 🚩 (A THREAD)"
Clips included:
You not laughing at his jokes
You walking ahead of him once
Archie opening his own car door
You gaming while he talked in the background
Overlaid text:
"See how he always touches her first?"
"He constantly seeks reassurance.”
"This is classic emotional neglect. Women should just date women if they hate men so much."
"MEN DESERVE BETTER"
Archie tried to joke it off.
On live, smiling, eyes tired: "Guys, please relax. She's not mean. She's just… quiet and camera shy."
That sentence alone fueled weeks of discourse.
@ boardroombaddie: Why is he justifying her personality? ARCHIE PLZ THIS ISN'T YOU FFS!-
@ slevie: Quiet women are ALWAYS the scariest.
@ cuntgiver: She works in finance and still can't hang a towel? Be serious and stop fucking justifying and babying her behaviour. Such men don't even deserve sympathy imo.
You didn't watch any of it.
You found out because Archie showed you one night, hesitant, phone hovering between you. His face covered with face masks and red ight thingy that honestly icked you.
"They think you hate me babe," he said softly. Almost apologetic.
You glanced at the screen for three seconds. Handed the phone back not even making an effort to see if they were right about you, were you really such a shit girlfriend that so many people hold this opinion?
"They're strangers. And with a lot of time in their hands."
That was it. Archie smiled like you'd just said something profound. The next day, he posted:
"Reminder: my relationship isn't content. Please stop projecting🌟"
Which, naturally, made it worse.
But he didn't stop dating you. Didn't stop smiling. Didn't stop orbiting. If anything, he leaned in harder. He left social media altogether. Like gone. No podcasts, no celebrity interviews or collabs.
A year later, he soft-launched again, quieter this time, almost careful. It was just one photo on his feed, no long caption, no storytime. Him in a soft knit, hair pulled back, hand resting low on his stomach where the bump was unmistakable if you looked twice, and your hand in the frame too, not holding his face, not performative, just there, fingers hooked into his belt, a ring glinting on yours and a thinner one on his. The caption was simple to the point of cruelty: "Some updates." No emojis. No explanations. The internet stalled for a full minute before exploding. Pregnancy speculation turned into certainty, engagement theories turned into breakdowns, and timelines were drawn up like crime boards. People zoomed in on the ring, on the way he was leaning slightly into you, on how relaxed he looked, too relaxed for someone supposedly trapped. Comments split violently between disbelief and grief. "HE'S PREGNANT??" "ENGAGED???" "WITH (Y/N)????" "This feels like a hostage photo, but why does he look so happy?" Some were genuinely happy for him too, and scolding the ones who were spouting negative shit on such an occasion.
He didn't reply to anything. Didn't post for three days after. When he finally did, it was a story of him drinking tea on the couch, your leg stretched across his lap, his hand rubbing absent circles over his stomach, his voice soft and offhand as he said, "Yeah, everything's good."
────
It's not like you didn't show him affection, you did. However, his cameras won't capture all the private moments.
Sometimes, you'd appear behind him while he was making coffee, leaning over just enough to brush your lips against his ear and whisper, "This one's for me," and he'd nearly drop the mug, laughing nervously while his heart did somersaults. Other times, while he was scrolling through his phone, you'd snatch it out of his hand without warning and slide it across the table, deadpan, "Not today," and he'd sit there frozen, grinning, entirely unable to argue. You had a way of touching him that didn't ask permission, running a thumb over his cheek while he slept on the couch, or gripping his wrist mid-gesture and holding him there like you'd claimed him physically, and he melted quietly under your hand.
Then there were the playful ones: you'd tug his hair lightly while he was cooking, making him stumble backward, or pinch his side when he was laughing too loudly, turning a normal giggle into a breathless stammer. Sometimes, you'd drop him into your lap suddenly while he was editing a TikTok, arms wrapping around him in a tight, possessive hug, murmuring, "You're mine," and he'd freeze, staring at you like you'd just rewritten reality. Even a casual touch,like brushing crumbs off his shoulder or flicking a stray speck of makeup from his hand, could make him shiver, heart pounding, entirely undone by the simplest gesture.
And the quiet, domestic ones were just as deadly. While he folded laundry, you'd lean over his back and press your chest against him, cheek brushing his shoulder, sighing softly. When he cooked, you'd hover near the stove, deliberately letting your hand graze his forearm, watching him fumble without speaking. You didn't have to say anything; the smallest touch, the tiniest glance, or a barely audible hum of your approval could send him into a spiral of adoration.
────
Beginning of 2026 is a trainwreck with women getting exposed left and right for either literally robbing a cradle or setting up a cradle with someone who isn't their husband ( an: chat did i cook with this line? ☠) and well Archie's followers--- frenemies at this point- are like digging so fucking deep to just find some kinda dirt on your bitcoin ass.
And they ...well worked hard for a while before an influencer by the name of Bailey Crown stepped forward with a reel with a teasing caption "I also have receipts on this influencer's gf, should I expose?" and people went wild, betting on whom it could be, no like, literally, a poll was done. Your name being there too, along with some other NBA players...
What a load of unemployed freak shi-
Anyway, guess what?
"My dating experience with that finance sis."
Boom. The video gets viral on tiktok. Bailey being a MUA spills tea doing his makeup and starts.
"So," he starts, dabbing primer onto his cheekbones, voice way too calm for what he’s about to say. " Yes I am talking about the bitcoin girl. The 6'2, and whose name starts with a (Your first alph). We dated for about a month. Not a hookup. Not a one-off. A month. Consistent texts. Weekly dinners. Sleepovers. And I fucking kid you not I met her assistant before I met her friends."
He blends concealer, unblinking.
"She loves control. And I don't mean in a cute 'I'lll order for the table' way. I mean- she'd decide when we saw each other. When I was allowed to be upset. When things were 'too emotional.'"
A painful pause with a cringed and disgusted impression.
"She once rescheduled our date because her stocks were 'in a bad mood'"
He raises an eyebrow. "And I waited. Because, you know, women, they make you think maybe you're the problem. I was immature at that point in my life, guys, okay? Don't judge." Bailey sighs, switches brushes.
"She hated it when I wore anything too soft. Said it made me look 'impressionable.' Told me I should stop using heart emojis because they made people think I was 'available.' CAN. YOU. FUCKING. BELIEVE THE AUDACITY. OF THESE WOMEN?. Like---God, I don't even know why I date women in the first place, like fucking makes me want to question EVERYTHING."
He chuckles once, humorless.
"Movin on my boys, she didn't like that I posted. Didn't like when my audience flirted. But had no issue reminding me- constantly- that I was replaceable. And why would you go on a date with and continue dating an influencer if you have a problem with me being a public figure?"
He leans closer to the camera, voice dropping. "And don't get me wrong. She never raised her voice. That's the thing. She'd just… fucking smile. Say, 'You're overthinking.' Or, 'That's not how it happened, darling." LIKE AHHH! Looking back at it now? That's so scary. And so classic." He picks up his phone.
"Now. Receipts. Cuz' of course. I am not making this shit up. Anyway, I asked her if we were exclusive. She said yes."
Screenshot flashes on the screen, showing the texts.
"Two weeks later? She cancels on me because she's 'working late." This time, it's screenshots of Instagram posts. "Same fucking night, guess what guys? She's liking thirst traps of three different men. One of whom-"
He smirks. "-was already married." Bailey exhales through his nose. " We had an argument about it and she of course was making excuses like no those posts are old and blah blah--LIKE HOW? They just posted it. How can they be old? Like that's how patronizing she was thinking that I carry nothing but air in my head and like for real, women go around ACTUALL believing this fact. That we men--we are just floating balloons." He looks straight into the camera.
"Did I mention she laughed? Imma mention again anyway."
A long pause. Mascara wand frozen mid-air. With this look on his face 👁👄👁
"And then she said, ‘You're sweet, Bailey. But you get attached too fast.' and we are not 'that official', whatever the fuck that means when you are literally with someone for over two weeks. Why are you texting me daily then? Why are you deciding dates on your own and picking me up from literally my workplace? Legit." He finishes the mascara stroke. "So yeah. That's my experience. No baby-trapping. No cradle-robbing. Just a woman who likes power a little too much and men who don't ask questions."
He sets the wand down. "I'm not attacking anyone, I am exposing, helping, man to man. I'm saying- if you date her? Know what you’re signing up for. And since young men follow you, you don't wanna set an example that dating such a walking douchebag is like---romantic. People have been watching you since 2018. And my boy Archie deserves better. Every man on this fucking planet deserves better, you hear me?"
Then, softer. Almost sincere.
"And if you're happy now? Good. Genuinely. But don't act surprised when people talk."
He smiles at the camera, polished, devastating and does a twirl. Anyway. That's it. I'm late for brunch. Bye bye my fairies, MUAH" And the comments? On fire.
@ emotionalroi: she treated him like a depreciating asset 💀
@ lipglosslaw: "my stocks were in a bad mood" I'M SCREAMING
@ meninsoftknit: he survived but at what cost
@ receiptsorban: WAIT IS THIS ARCHIE'S GIRLFRIEND
@ softlaunchpolice: so THIS is why he never tags her
@ chronicallyinvested: oh archie babe stand UP
@ sheeos: y'all calling this toxic, but if a man did it, you'd call him confident, smh.
@ cheetobiixh: IT IS FUCKING (Y/N) (L/N), OML , GUYS!
@ fx88ceo: maybe he just couldn't keep up 😌
@ istandforbelttreatmentforwomen: Bailey: You liked 3 men's posts?!
(Y/N) be like: HA💸HA💸HA💸HA💸
────
Archie doesn't stitch Bailey's video.
That alone gets people nervous. Instead, he posts a mukbang.
Camera angled slightly too close, hoodie stretched over a very visible four-month bump, a spread of fire noodles, tteokbokki, and a slice of cheesecake sitting innocently to the side like it didn’t just witness violence. His cheeks are already pink, eyes a little glassy, half spice, half pregnancy hormones.
The caption is simple, "Some thoughts."
No hashtags. He slurps noodles first. Loud and aggressive.
Then he looks at the camera. "Hi," Archie says, mouth still a little full. "I wasn't gonna say anything. My doctor actually told me to avoid unnecessary stress."
He wipes his mouth carefully.
"But y'all are annoying." He reaches for water, wincing.
"First of all--Bailey." He nods once. "I watched your video. Twice. Once on my For You page, once because my aunt sent it to me."
A pause.
"That's where we're at." He takes another bite of spicy rice cake like he's punishing himself. 'You're not lying about dating her. I knew that. She told me. Like an adult. Early. With context."
He shrugs.
"And yeah. She can be… a lot." A small smile tugs at his mouth despite himself. "She's decisive. She's blunt. She doesn't baby people. That's kind of her whole thing."
He sets his chopsticks down, suddenly serious.
"But let's not rewrite history like she was dangling you on a leash for sport."
Archie leans forward.
'You're grown. You stayed because you wanted to. You liked the attention. You liked dating someone powerful. And when it stopped feeling good, you left. That's not abuse. That's dating."
He exhales, rubs his stomach absentmindedly.
"And the screenshots?" A soft laugh. "Liking posts isn't cheating. If it is, half of TikTok needs jail time."
He reaches for the cheesecake now, stabbing it dramatically with his fork. "As for the 'replaceable' comment-" he grimaces. "Yeah. That one sucked. I won't defend that. She's apologized. To you. To me. Privately."
He takes a bite of cheesecake, eyes closing.
"Oh my god. That's damn good. She bought this from my fave store before I even woke up." Then, quieter, "But here's what you didn't say."
Archie looks straight into the camera now. No joking. "She's never lied to me. Never hidden me. Never made me feel small."
A hand settles over his bump, protective, instinctive.
"She comes to my appointments. She makes spreadsheets for the baby budget. She learned how to cook for pregnancy cravings she doesn't even have. Buying gifts left and right, setting up everything for the baby's arrival since the day we found out we were expecting. There isn't a fucking day that I am not grateful. Grateful for such a wonderful woman in my life. And yeah. She's intense, some just are. She's straightforward. She's not soft in the way people expect women to be. But she's soft with me. So if you didn't feel loved by her? I'm sorry. Genuinely. You just weren't for her then."
He nods toward the camera. "But don't turn my partner into a villain because the relationship didn't work for you." Archie sighs, tired now.
"And to everyone else, stop projecting your failed situationships onto my family." He picks up another noodle, then adds as an afterthought: "Also, I'm pregnant, spicy food makes me cry, and I still filmed this. So show some respect."
And that was the day the internet collectively decided: this man is hopeless. No matter what we fucking say, he isn’t going to listen. What a tragic downfall.
Except… it isn't one. Because people don't unfollow Archie the way they're supposed to.
Some do, obviously. The loud ones. The mature lads. The moral high-ground brigade who announce their departure like it's an airport. But a surprising number stay. Quietly entertained and curious.
And then there are the boys. Young, soft-voiced, freshly verified men in Archie's comments, suddenly inspired. Ones with ring lights and clean bedrooms and comments that start with "no offense but--" They flood his inbox left and right, as if he discovered the solution to stop global warming.
"How do I bag a finance baddie?😭😭"
"Father, drop the tutorial fr."
"Is there a class or do I just suffer?"
"Does letting her control my calendar help or hurt?"
Some are joking. Some are absolutely not.
Archie responds in a reels, because of course he does. One video is just him folding baby clothes on the couch, very pregnant, very serene. Text on screen: "I wasn't asking."
tag: @bintangbiru @enchantingkitty (tagged you as well cuz i thought u be waiting for a long time kitty, hope u didn't mind)
you, pissed off and with a gun in your hand: you asshole
you try to shoot him, he grabs your wrist and the bullet flies right next to his cheek, leaving a scratch that starts to bleed almost immediately, meanwhile he groans and angrily pulls you closer to make out with you
A misty memory
A haunting face
Is she a lost embrace?
𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧!: This work contains nuances of emotional incest, if the subject makes you uncomfortable I recommend skipping this post for your comfort.
Fandom: DC
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The world works in specific ways.
There must be roles to follow, labels you can never shake off, appearances you have to play up whether you like it or not. There are protectors and victims, good and bad, one side or the other.
But what happens when you're in the middle of the line?
When your role is to be ambiguous, your label is to shine but your role is to disappear, you're neither a protector nor a victim, you're neither strong enough to protect nor weak enough to need protection, you're neither good nor bad, you're a zero, a smudge on the paint.
You're not memorable.
And you use that to your advantage.
Your family never loved you, that's the truth; Dad's a liar. Bruce Wayne can act so well it's ridiculous, but he never bothered to act with you. He didn't pretend to love you, but he didn't pretend to hate you either. You were a limbo between the two, solved by acting like you weren't even there, easy and simple. Anyway, that's what he did with your mother after having sex with her and discarded her the next morning, coming back only because…Why did he come back? You could have gone back to your maternal family, with whom you still have contact; living in the system is better than Wayne.
Your brothers? As many as there are days in the year, it almost seems like collecting them is a hobby (or his therapy, something he tries to remedy himself by using others—who said that?!), but no matter how many there are, you don't connect with any of them. Maybe because you arrived late, or because you're not a Robin, or an Oracle, or whatever exotic bird and mythological name they use to fight crime.
Your sisters? They're…there, far away, not bothering to get close, and to their credit, you don't either, not anymore anyway, it's not worth it.
Alfred tries, it's sweet of him to do so, but you'll never be a priority for the old butler; you don't need bandages in the middle of the night, or coordinates for a cross-city chase, and God forbid you need empathetic comfort because someone else needs it more.
There are orphans, murderers, revived, a metahuman! Doesn't Bruce hate those?!
It would be funny if it weren't so sad, that your own father loves others more than you, how depressing; but it's not all bad, really, no, the lack of parental supervision gives you time to do many other things; you allow yourself to try everything, after all, Dad pays without a second thought.
So far, you're a singer, painter, dancer, soccer player, basketball player, gymnast, national champion in marine sciences and aerodynamic engineering, archer, model, diva, and all at no more than twenty years old, Take that, Barbie!
That's what negligence, free time, and a billion-dollar legacy combined do.
Another result of this is attention; you crave attention like a moth to a flame. It's a need, your air, your most primal desire. Being adored has become your mission, your purpose. Being envied is what motivates you to wake up every morning at four o'clock to start your beauty and exfoliation routine. Being desired is literally what makes you endure every magazine photo and every clothing ad that appears in store windows all over Gotham.
But through all of that, the smallest, most hidden part of your psyche still yearns for his attention, his desires, his flattery, his adoration, his envy, his need.
𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.
That makes you hate him—hate him and his children, who are part of his world, who don't have to fight for even a glance from him, much less his voice. Dick doesn't have to do a million things at once to be his pride and joy, Jason doesn't have to lose sleep over a compliment on his looks, Tim doesn't rack his brains to be considered a genius, Damian never needed to prove anything to be considered his equal in his eyes, Duke received everything as soon as he arrived, Barbara didn't have to beg for the mantle of Batgirl, Stephanie doesn't have to excel at everything to be recognized as one of his own, and Cassandra is his daughter, 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧.
They're all something to him, they're all on that damn wall, in the family portrait he commissioned as a gift for them, one where you're not included, like in everything else. You don't even remember what the excuse was this time, or if it was Alfred who said it or your head made it up, but that painting is the rock that broke the glass.
And, ironically, the painting next to it is your perfect revenge.
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The changes began slowly, although if they had happened suddenly, they wouldn't have noticed.
An extra charge at a beauty salon, a clothing store, a jewelry store—nothing Bruce cared about or Alfred told him about.
Then the glances began.
A familiar figure passing at the end of the hallway as Bruce crossed, a nostalgic laugh that made Alfred nervous, a smell that made Bruce remember his past, details that made both men alert.
The alerts turned into paranoia when the images started coming in.
Bruce knew you were doing things outside the family: events, galas, parties, charity events, anything considered extravagant and spectacular. He always used that as a distraction, hiring anyone who looked like him from afar to appear on the covers and facilitating his double life as Bruce Wayne and Batman.
He's heartless, but he's useful, you're useful, from afar and without interfering in his vigilante life; at least one of his children will be free from the Bat curse.
And in he excuses, he never thought the curse would be any crueler.
Because the next time she sees you, the only gala he attends that you organized as a charity event, the only time he steps into the same space as you and sees you as the very image of her.
That he ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.
Her bearing, her brightness, her smile and laugh, her presence—damn, you even seem to use the same style with a modern touch—it's like having her among the guests who aged like she might have.
And when you see him…
- Father!- your voice echoes in his head, and for a second he hears hers too - Bruce Wayne has arrived! -
He's a scared little boy.
◣◥◣◥◤◢◤◢◣◥◣◥◤◢◤◢◣◥◣◥◤◢◤◢◣◥◣◥◤◢◤◢◣◥◣◥◤◢
The world works in specific ways.
And when your role shifts from being a spectator to being a perpetrator, it feels good.
It shouldn't, morally, you shouldn't enjoy seeing him so disturbed, afraid to be around you but seeking you out more often. It should make you feel sorry to hear him cry every time you dress a certain way that you've seen in photos and he saw in person, you should stop when you noticed how he began to harass you more and more until you could feel him breathing down your neck.
But you couldn't.
And the final straw was when he approached you first.
The encounter was strange, an awkward, tense atmosphere; you playing the piano in a living room far from the house, and he standing awkwardly in the living room doorway, listening without hearing and looking at you as if recalling a memory.
He approached awkwardly, slowly, as if each step were on a tightrope thousands of feet above the ground, and you were the solid floor on the other side. He didn't say much when he reached you. In his hands was a sheet of music that he held tightly; you could see the wrinkles in the old paper.
- Play it - he asks you, whispering, afraid of breaking whatever holds his sanity together.
That song, you learned from Alfred, who can no longer look you in the eye, was the first song Martha taught Bruce to play on the piano.
Martha Wayne, the grandmother you never met, the one you only saw in old portraits and hidden photos, the woman you bore an almost frightening resemblance to. You realized this on a day like today, a revelation that gave you the sickest idea you could have had, and despite everything morally correct, you went ahead with it.
Days at the salon to get her hair done, a manicure and pedicure elegant and classic, a new wardrobe with only clothes from the season she was alive, modernized enough to follow trends but still highlighting her style, jewelry she used to wear, the perfume she used (according to old newspapers in which she appears promoting it).
You became her in the present, the reincarnation of Martha Wayne.
Who would have thought that if you just dressed up a little more you'd look just like her?
The media adores you, those who lived during the Wayne matriarch's time desire you, women young and old envy you, and the spotlight always shines on you.
And as if fate were gifting him to you, as if rewarding you for years of neglect and hatred that rotted you as a person, destiny hands you Bruce Wayne as a constant in your life.
Encounters at galas, parties, and gatherings, superficial and tense conversations whenever you meet at the mansion, calls in the middle of the night when he thinks you think he can't sleep, when in reality he's just overwhelmed by the loneliness of the night and the memories his mind combines of his mother and you, hours and hours in the music room where he asks begs you to play him the same piano score or the same lullaby, outings everywhere, accompanying you like a shadow.
The lines that were never defined have blurred, vanished, lost in a limbo that no one bothers to recapture; for you are content to have your father's full attention without seeking it, to snap your fingers and know he will come at your call, to go from being nothing to being his everything, to becoming the most twisted and sick form of you in his sole thought.
And he is in a trance that no magic spell, or brainwashing, or catharsis, or anything like that can compare to; it is his never-healed trauma, the wound he sealed with fire opening again to raw, steaming, red flesh, which he uses to paint your lips the same shade his mother wore for social gatherings.
You want to know the most bizarre thing? That you've been referred to as "𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚊 𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎"
And you won't change any of that, because your hatred makes you pull on the chain that strangles Bruce, tightening it every time someone tries to intervene and pull him out of the emotional hole he's fallen into; your brothers and sisters have tried, you must admit. Family interventions, paid therapies, magical, intergalactic therapies—there's nothing they haven't done to return his father to normal.
They've all failed because Bruce doesn't want to go out, doesn't want to leave the last piece of his past, of the time when he was full and happy, where there wasn't night and revenge, he doesn't want to be an orphan again.
Bruce was a mama's boy; his previous partners have a bit of his mother in them, and now that he's found his mother in a woman, no force on Earth or beyond will make him let her go.
Even if that person is his forgotten child.
What does Alfred do? Nothing. The poor man has been swallowed up by guilt and remorse; that through his carelessness he let this grow and spiral out of control, that he knew the damage abandonment was doing to you and still left you in the toxic shadows of the house. And now? The family has fragmented.
This is your victory. You have everything you want, your life is complete; while you paint a portrait of a vase, humming a lullaby, with your father dozing behind you, hugging you by the waist.
You have won.
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Hello again! Happy to be writing again! I'm working on the sequel to A Human's Touch, so look out for it soon!
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hello there, I’m unsure if you’re taking requests, but if you are might I request a Kanato Sakamaki x reader?
Maybe like headcannons of him in a relationship with a very caring, nurturing reader, or you could do the complete opposite, and make reader judgmental and cruel (kind of like Kanato). If reader was cruel, I feel like that would be a great way to get revenge against all the trauma Kanato’s caused. (Either one is good and you don’t even have to do this, I just really like Kanato (because he’s so deceptively adorable, even if he absolutely despises me/yui/reader) He and Azusa are my favorite Diabolik characters.)
Of course, you don’t have to do that and if you don’t want to do Kanato you could replace with one of the other Diabolik Lover’s characters. (Like the Mukami family or one of the other family names I can’t remember).
—just another anon 🌟
IM SO SORRY I JUST SAW YOUR ASK!
Also those two are my favs too! Anyways here ya go.
Hot and cold
Kanato Sakamaki x reader head canons
Warning: unedited
~~~~~~~
As warm as fresh blood
He likes it when you play with his hair as he lays on your lap.
He loves when you praise him and beg for him.
You calm him with soft whispers and tender kisses to his cheeks and head.
When you let him play with you, dancing you around to no music but just his hums.
He loves it when he thinks he’s in control.
Loves when you love him and only him.
He loves that you only have eyes for him to only look at him and nobody else.
“I know you’re upset, Kanato, but you’re doing so well. Just hold it in a little longer, and we’ll go, ok?” You said holding the man’s shaking hand. “but they’re so loud can’t we just go home? I’m tired!” He whines, and you lay your head on him before speaking. “you can’t keep getting absences, you know~ I’m here with you anyways” you said, rubbing circles on his arm and giving him a quick kiss on the back of his palm. “Fine but only because Teddy agrees with you” he pouts, and you giggle “thank you, Teddy, sounding considerate of Kanato.” You said cheerfully.
As cold as a corpse
He can’t help but worry when you ignore him.
He begs for you just to look at him to give him his attention.
But all he gets is a violent shove or kick.
He lays his head on your lap just for you to swat him away in disgust.
He would rather you hit or cut at him than you ignore him.
His angerly yells, turning to begs when he gets tired, then soon to sobs of desperate pleading just for you to acknowledge him.
He offers you his teddy just to get any reaction, but nothing seems to work.
“Look at me, look at me damn it!” Kanato yelled at you, and you still don’t budge “are you deaf why are you ignoring me?!” He said, stomping closer to you “hey hey!” He said sitting on the floor putting his hands on you knees and you glare down at him grabbing his hand and pushing them away from you “ugh get off your like a pathetic dog get away from me” you said turning away from him and his eyes began to water. “I-I I’m not pathetic! What did I do? Was it because I yelled at you? It was an accident” he began to spiral “please just hold me again. I don’t know what I did I’m…. I’m sorry” he mumbled, and you shuffled to look at him “say that again…” You spat, and his eyes lit up “Im sorry!” He said quickly, and you smiled and sighed “well if you are… that’ll be it” you said, rubbing his head.
You are back to warm, back to giving him kisses on his eyelids and cupping his face, apologizing for your actions, giving him the illusion of affection.
Because while you do love him, you love him more when he is desperate you love when he is wrapped around your fingers.
——————————
N/A
I didn’t know what to choose to I chose both a x reader where reader is toxic loves to bring him up high only to crash him down then repeat! Isn’t that fun!
Anyways don do that to ppl cuz it’s like crazy
Also I feel the only way to be cruel to Kanato is not violence but to give and take from him he seems like the person who gets used to affection so if u keep giving and taking he will soon adapt and become desperate for it probably like when you ignorea child or something. Sense to me, he is very childish.
in which . . . chris heads out for a night with just him and his friends when he bumps into a familiar face in the bathroom.
smoke like fog filled the atmosphere of the night, drunk party-goers and house rattling rap music filled the silence between the crickets chirping and the owls hooting from tree branch to tree branch. chris hadn’t even planned to go out that night. his week and entire day was shit. but maybe going out with some friends and getting drunk could ease the absolute migraine of a week he was going through.
conversation between the two of you was never dry though. although, not enough for chris to muster up the courage to ask if you would be attending this party he was currently taking shot after shot at.
if he was being so god honest with himself, he found it difficult to talk to you. the way you acted with your confident but also humble attitude made him nervous. almost as if he wanted to impress you.
however, the night went on, and chris still hadn’t seen you. maybe every time he entered a room you had just left the room. maybe it was the universe only slowly bringing the two souls together and have them lock eyes at the perfect time.
alcohol and weed eventually caught up to chris, his legs not working with his mind and the loudness of the whole place not helping.
“hey, i’m gonna use the bathroom man.” he muttered to his friend who was currently bent over the pool table, too focused to mind where chris was stumbling off to. he fumbled his way to the bathroom, knocking on the door to make sure nobody wasn’t in there as the door wasn’t locked fully.
when chris opened the door he barely noticed you. basically half naked. and by half naked, no shirt, just a bra. “oh, hey. funny seeing you here.” he said, almost as if he didn’t see anything weird about the situation. “holy shit, chris!” you yelled, covering yourself up with your shirt.
he finally noticed your half-naked-ness after a brief moment of you scolding him, “oh my god, quit yellin’. you act like i’ve never seen your tits before.” he took a stride over to the toilet, lifting the lid up with his foot before unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, causing you to look away and finish changing your shirt.
“why the hell are you half naked in the bathroom?” he finally asked. mid piss. you rolled your eyes, fixing yourself again in the mirror, trying your hardest to ignore chris next to you. acting as if this was normal in any way. “some asshole spilled their drink on my shirt, had to come change.” you sighed.
the sound of the toilet flushing was heard throughout the bathroom. chris zipped up his pants and buckled his belt again, walking over to the sink where you stood and turned the water on. “now you know how i felt.” chris chuckled, squeezing some soap onto his hands as he spoke.
after chris finished washing his hands and dried them off, he walked over to you, he listened to you talk about how someone spilled their drink all over you. but at the same time mesmerized by the way you looked.
“he was so fucking rude about it too, i asked for an apology and—“ you rambled on and on, completely ignoring the way chris was staring straight into your eyes, then your lips, then your chest, back to your eyes once again.
suddenly in the midst of talking you feel the cool tile of the counter pressed up against your lower back. chris’ hands sliding up and down your hips, locking you between him and the counter.
“—so, uh, yeah, he didn’t even apologize for… it…” your words trailed off, completely getting lost in what you were saying when chris’ lips attached to your neck.
eventually gentle kisses led to small nips, little red marks left sporadically across your neck and lower chest. the little tank top you changed into was not much coverage over your chest.
chris could rip the damn thing off if he wanted to.
momentarily you stopped trying to talk for a moment, every movement chris made on you made you shiver and your mind blank. his hands moved to the belt loops of your jeans, tugging them, pulling you closer.
he groaned into your neck, muttering through kisses as your hands wandered up your back, scratching gently. “fuck, keep talking ma.” he groaned.
all his movements sent you into a spiral, the party still raving just outside the door.
it felt as if you blinked twice and your jeans were being tugged down eagerly by chris, whispering every praise in the book. lips still attached to your body. practically worshipping it.
before you had time to think chris turned you around, pushing you down over the counter. a muffled moan was earned. chris’ hands rubbed your back up and down, eventually pulling your panties down to just bellow your thighs.
and again, it seemed as if you blinked and he was unbuckling his belt. his cock hitting his belly button as he finally pushed his jeans off and to his lower thigh.
his chest hit your back, whispering softly into your ear, “you do shit to me,” he muttered, “i can’t fucking explain it.” as he spoke he grabbed a condom out of his pocket, tearing it open effortlessly with his teeth and rolling it on.
his words felt sharp, in a good way. it was a compliment in a way. his hands roamed your body as he talked, eventually making their way to your neck. and eventually traveling up to your jaw. he forced you to look in the mirror. your slightly open lips, your red neck. everything.
“look at you. so fucking gorgeous.” he said through groans.
“we met two months ago and i can’t get ya’ out of my damn head.” he admitted. his hand gripping your throat as you let out choked whines.
chris slowly teased the tip of his cock against your sopping cunt. your throat being squeezed gently. you watched your reaction in the mirror slowly slid inside of you. a smug and cocky grin on his face as he watched your face.
a moan threatened to escape, a loud one. his movements paused before whispering into your ear, “be quiet, don’t want nobody hearing huh?” you nodded, “yeah, just watch your pretty face while i fuck you, m’kay?”
“mm—m’kay…” you choked out, chris resuming his moments, slowly pushing into you from behind.
after some time, his movements picked up. you kept threatening to moan loudly, but chris pushed his finger into your mouth for you to bite.
chris kept picking up the pace, his tip pressing kisses against your cervix with every thrust. and you watched your face in the mirror, your hands gripping on the counter. choked whines and begs fell through your swollen lips.
“gonna— gonna cum—“ you said, well, more-so moaned. pretty loudly. to which chris gripped your face. “not till i say so.” he said through groans as well.
it was a while before you actually came. when you did it was pretty messy.
A.N: Okay soooo i have no idea what I wanna write but I'm going to be writing a lot of one shots and experiment because I wanna try and get out of my writers block.
Warnings: mentions of blood, biting, needles, feral reader, a bit suggestive, reader might be toxic, If I miss any I apologise!
Poor old you, who knew at your time of need your calls would be answered by a simple human?
"Dokyeom, stay safe!" Vernon waved at Dokyeom, who was leaving the hospital to go home. Vernon was one of his colleagues but he worked as a receptionist while DK worked as a nurse. Some might say he should've gone and been a doctor but he was fine with his job, it really wasn't different in his eyes.
"I will!" Dokyeom replied back with a smile on his face. He loved his job regardless even if it was tiring.
The hospital is his second home. He's worked here for years now and he's comfortable, plus the pay is nice, the environment is perfect and the work load surprisingly isn't much. It's always been peaceful and it always stays that way, except today was the busiest day ever.
.
Tonight was exhausting, multiple deaths all because of one thing. Blood loss. Completely sucked dry patients who couldn't be saved even if they reached the hospital on time and all of them had bites marks on their necks. Police said it's connected to the house break-ins but some local aunties say it's a demon.
Dokyeom sighed as he sat down on the driver's seat of his car. The only thing he heard was ringing in his ears. Everything that happened, it wasn't easy to continue your day after seeing multiple people cry and go crazy. But he still had a life outside of work. After a few seconds of silence he decided to start up the car and get ready to drive back home, lay down on his comfortable bed and go on with his night.
God. Oh fucking god. This shit wasn't worth it. Nah ah, "Be a vampire it'll be so fun!" "Humans are easy to kill!" Bullshit!
You groaned as your stomach ached in hunger. This fucking sucked because you had expected to find a victim easily but ho ho ho, not a single human came in sight. The only people you saw were the police, you would go after them but they had guns and you were still a newly turned vampire.
"Hunt at night my ass." You scoffed as you remembered the suggestion that a certain vampire friend of yours, Mingyu, gave you. As a new vampire you asked Mingyu a lot of questions on how to hunt, how to stay fed, etc; because he's been a vamp longer than you. What you didn't realise is that the people here would notice and start a whole case. The worst part was finding a new place to hunt. It isn't easy not when a lot of vampires are territorial.
You clenched your jaw before wrapping your arms around your stomach to try and soothe the pain, but it was useless. Your legs were already giving up on you. You had to act fast, and without a second thought you rushed over to a nearby house.
You collapsed outside near the back door, it didn't take you long before you passed out. The last thing you heard was a cat parking near the house.
Dokyeom parked his car and quickly pulled the car keys out. It was already late now, he left around 12:00 am but since the hospital is a bit far he reached around 12:55 am.
He ran his fingers through his hair then moved his hands to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
"Home sweet home." He chuckled as he picked up his stuff and opened the car door. Everything looked fine, no sign of entry or damage. Maybe the criminal because of the police?
He didn't think much of it as he walked over to the front door and unlocked it. The house was quiet; it was always quiet at home. Dokyeom inspected the place for a bit just to make sure nothing really happened to the house while he was gone. When everything looked okay Dokyeom simply placed his bags down on the sofa and left to take a shower.
.
Some time later he came downstairs, his hair still wet from taking a shower and now he was wearing casual clothing; his uniform for work was thrown in the washing to clean later.
He went straight to the kitchen and quickly made a sandwich for himself before he would go to bed. But while cutting some tomatoes he heard something or someone from outside. No one in their right mind would be awake at this hour so what the hell was that noise from outside his backdoor?
"Is anyone there! Hello?" Dokyeom whispered shouted as he carefully took a few steps to his kitchen's back door. If he had to be honest, he was a bit scared right now.
He hesitated for a bit before he swung his backdoor open and froze.
[Thud]
Dokyeom looked down at his feet and his heart sank when he saw a lifeless(?) body on the concert floor.
You slowly opened your eyes and when you awoke you were reminded of the pain that had previously led you to pass out. "Ugh.." You heard a person groaning and then you felt a sharp sting in your arm, an injection, your eyes jolted open.
"Who are you?!" You sat up and immediately jumped on the random person. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to help!!" You growled as you looked down at the man.
Dokyeom was terrified, even more when you saw your fangs. What the fuck was happening right now?! He tried to push you off but you were too strong.
"I said, who are you."
Dokyeom felt his breath hitch when he felt your sharp nails on his adams apple. He stared at you with both fear and vulnerability. But all you could see was a victim, one that ended up pricing an injection into your body.
"My name is Dokyeom! I work as a nurse at the nearby hospital! Please let me go!" Dokyeom was only supposed to reveal his name but he revealed more information than needed. Though, a nurse, a hospital, this human had access to blood.
Your nails trailed down his adams apple to his chest as you pressed them down to slightly stab into him. "Why did you take me?" Your voice roared in the living room and it almost seemed like he whimpered before he stuttered a reply.
"You were unconscious next to my backdoor! I got worried.." He closed his eyes expecting you to hurt him or kill him, but you scoffed at him. "That must be a joke. Do you know what I am human? A vampire. A demon. A creation of Dracula."
Holy shit the aunties were right.
You snarled your fangs at him but groaned, the hunger was killing you. You needed blood and this human looked so delicious, handsome even, he smelled like..honey?
"If you stay still I might let you live." You held his face tightly, squeezing his cheeks as he nodded quickly. You could hear his heart racing and you could just feel the anxiety in him. In mere seconds you leaned his head back and sunk into his neck.
He gasped loudly, Dokyeom was shaking in fact as you drank his blood.
God, god it was delicious. It tasted better than you most humans oh they all tasted the same but this nurse, this sweet nurse tasted like honey and strawberries. The whole time you didn't realise that you were pressing your body against his. His blood brought you pure ecstasy and you licked up the blood that was slipping down his neck.
Dokyeom was going crazy, the pain was driving him crazy, how close your blood pressed against his, the licking, why was it getting so hot?
You chuckled as he leaned back from his neck and looked at him proudly and with excitement. "You might feel a few things. That happens to humans, happens to vampires as well. "Say, you're open to try new things right?"
