impuredeeplove

[impuredeeplove]

THE DAUGHTER OF EVIL

The princess's jewelry box X original female character

SUMMARY: Elara the blacksmith rises up against the tyranny of Empress Ariana, turning pain into revolution.

Meanwhile, Ariana, enveloped in luxury and arrogance, ignores the storm brewing in her kingdom.

As revolution comes, two women discover that power comes at a price—and it will be paid in blood.

PROLOGUE: NOBODY CRIES FOR TYRANTS

The morning sun bathed Sacremisa's central square in golden hues, a cruel contrast to the horror unfolding below. Elara's crimson armor blazed like living embers, each polished metal plate reflecting light almost painfully. The air reeked—a nauseating blend of fresh blood, rotting fruit in the heat, and the acrid sweat of the gathered mob. The sea wind carried salt that mingled with the rusted guillotine's metallic bite, creating a symphony of horrors that left a bitter taste in Elara's mouth.

Her gloved fingers clenched her sword's hilt tight enough to leave permanent marks in the leather. Each heartbeat thundered in her ears like war drums, nearly drowning out the furious crowd's roar. Elara stood at the eye of this storm, the imposing figure in scarlet armor that all watched with mingled awe and fear.

Ariana was dragged toward the scaffold, her bare feet leaving bloody prints on the wooden steps. The magestone shackles screeched like breaking bones, their anti-magic runes glowing faintly against her raw wrists. The wind tousled what remained of her once-silver hair, now crudely shorn and whitened by despair.

"Look how the mighty empress crawls!" a man spat, hurling rotten fruit that struck Ariana's cheek with a wet smack. Fermented juice dripped down her face like grotesque tears.

A woman with burn scars shook her fists: "Blood for blood!

"Let her burn in hell as she burned our granaries!"

A chill ran down Elara's spine despite her armor's heat. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as Ariana faltered on the scaffold steps. The executioner—a brute whose scarred face mapped a lifetime of violence—wrenched the former empress forward by her slender arms.

"Don't resist, Your Majesty," he sneered, forcing her to kneel before the guillotine. The dark wood, stained by generations of executions, reeked of old blood and terror. Ariana lifted her chin, her rose-pink eyes—once famed for enchanting nations—locked on Elara with an intensity that made the warrior swallow hard.

Then Elara stepped forward, her combat boots echoing across the platform. The crowd fell silent instantly, as if someone had slit their throats. Even the wind seemed to pause."TODAY," her voice cannoned, making her armor plates vibrate, "TYRANNY ENDS!" The sun turned her scarlet armor to liquid fire. "For eight long years, we suffered under this woman's heel. We watched children starve while her feasts lasted weeks! Saw fathers die in mines to feed her greed!"

Rhe square erupted in agreement. Elara raised her fist, light glinting off her commander's bracer.

"But today," she continued, softening her voice to a near-whisper that still carried across the square, "today we plant seeds for a new dawn. Where no child will cry from hunger! Where no man will be whipped over unpaid taxes!"

The crowd roared, but Elara wasn't finished. A gesture silenced them again.

"Let this death warn all tyrants!" She pointed at Ariana, who still knelt, still watched her with those damnably knowing eyes. "The age of oppression dies with her!"

The response shook the earth: "EQUALITY! FRATERNITY! LIBERTY!"

The brown-haired - an important and dangerous ally ally - chose that moment to step forward, his smile sharp as the blade itself. He inclined his head slightly, fingers elegantly laced behind his back as if at a palace ball rather than an execution.

"Last words, Ariana?" His voice dripped poisoned honey. "Any final advice for your subjects? One last lie to tell?"

For a heartbeat, the deposed empress's rose-pink eyes gleamed as they once had. "I was Ariana of Sacremisa," she said, raising her chin despite the chains weighing her down. "First and last empress of this realm." Her cracked lips curved in a ghostly smile. "And you... will all be forgotten."

The executioner pulled the lever.For one terrible instant, the rusted mechanism jammed—a metallic screech that made the crowd hold its breath. Ariana laughed, the sound jagged as broken glass.

"Even your machines know I shouldn't kneel."

The brown-haired ally laughed first—a shrill, black-humored sound. The executioner cursed, hammering the mechanism. With a metallic groan, the blade fell.

The impact shook the entire scaffold. The blade severed with a wet thunk, and blood arced crimson, spattering the revolution's banners hung nearby. Red droplets slid down the fabric like tears, staining freedom's symbols with vengeance's price.

Ariana's head rolled past the basket, spinning until her lifeless eyes fixed on Elara, lips still twisted in that final defiant smirk. Her body remained upright for a breathless moment—refusing to acknowledge its end—before collapsing forward with a sickening thud.

Blood seeped between the scaffold planks, dripping rhythmically like a clock marking an era's end.

"TO THE PYRES WITH HER!" someone shrieked, brandishing a torch. The mob became a sea of contorted faces—some ecstatic, others hollow with relief. Vinegar and cheap beer mixed with iron in the air, creating an intoxicating vapor of liberation.

The masked ally approached. He stopped half a pace from Elara, rigid as a statue. Behind his black leather mask, his rose-pink eyes—so like Ariana's—were fixed on the severed head, pupils blown inhumanly wide.

Elara reached out, almost touching his arm, but hesitated at the last moment. "Are you all right?" she murmured, low enough for only him to hear.

He didn't answer immediately. When he finally moved, it was with a sleepwalker's lethargy. He knelt in the gore, hands visibly trembling as he reached for the silver hairpin that had fallen from Ariana's hair.

Elara crouched beside him, her armor creaking softly. "Leave it," she whispered. "She has nothing left to give you.

"His fingers closed around it with sudden fierceness, clutching it like a lifeline. For a long moment, he remained frozen, the hairpin pressed white-knuckled against his chest.

Elara placed her gloved hand over his, feeling the tremors wracking his body. "It's over," she said, her voice softer than she'd ever used in battle.

When he finally stood, his movements were uncoordinated—nearly stumbling. Elara steadied him with a hand at his elbow for a brief moment. He examined the pin one last time before tucking it inside his coat, over his heart, with near-reverent care.

His whole body shook, but when his eyes met Elara's, she saw more than grief—a dark, profound satisfaction that made her shiver. He gave the barest nod, an almost imperceptible gesture of gratitude, before retreating into the square's shadows.

The wind shifted, bringing clean sea salt to briefly cleanse the stench of death. Elara looked at her gloved hands—clean, yet forever stained.

As the sun blazed on her scarlet armor and the blood now watering revolution's seeds, a terrible truth took root:

This wasn't the end. It was only the first act of a far darker play.

[impuredeeplove]

The Birth of the Beast. (pt2)

Pairing: Yandere Ryuk x female reader

Warnings: body horror, non-consensual pregnancy, non-consensual oral sex, forced impregnation, mention of childbirth, non-con, monster fucking, uterus penetration (let me know if I missed anything)

Your reflection in the mirror didn't lie, your belly was a demonic vision from hell that defied human nature. As big as a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy, your abdomen was swollen, making your skin so thin that you feared any sudden movement would tear it. The veins were bulging - pitch black instead of green and blue - beneath your now almost translucent skin, similar to the appearance of thin parchment about to tear.

The size is disproportionate and seems to have increased in size since you left the hospital, which should be impossible since that was only a few hours ago. Your balance point has been completely altered so that it seems that any breeze could knock you to the side. Your skin, once healthy, now looks cadaverous and is covered in red and purple spots and marks, possibly indicating internal bruising.

You dare to put a hand on the swelling and at that moment the “baby” moves, the movement so strong and agonizing that you fall to your knees on the bathroom floor, screaming in pain, dragging yourself out of the bathroom and onto the soft bed that seems much more comfortable than the cold floor. Lying down and looking again at the intruding swelling, you can see the outline of small hands with long, thin fingers, or the shape of a face or a foot. You fear that at any moment the thing inside you will tear its way out, leaving you open and bleeding, dead on the bed.

A burning sensation in your womb that exudes an unbearable heat, as if you were being cooked from the inside out. Inside your belly there are beatings that sound like cursed drums being played incessantly in your ears.

thump - thump - thump

The sound of what you assume is a heart - this thing has a heart; - drives you crazy, robbing you of any possibility of calm.

thump - thump - thump

It's so loud that it feels like you're going to die, while you groan in pain on the bed, something invisible to your eyes moves around the room, appreciating your desperate appearance. The creature decides to make itself present because something falls - NOT THROWN - on your bed right next to your head, a book... DEATH NOTE.

Curious and eager to distract yourself from the internal pulsations of your body, you touch the notebook. It is exactly after this act that your eyes see a grotesque creature in front of you staring at you. The name comes naturally to your mind.

RYUK RYUK RYUK RYUK RYUK RYUK

"Finally," came a voice from behind, it was a hoarse and frankly disturbing voice, similar to the high-pitched noise of a broken radio, the voice triggered all your survival instincts - which asked you to run - which uselessly paralyzed you. Your heart dropped from your chest when you felt a pair of long, thin arms wrap around your waist, skeletal hands with cold, bony fingers spreading across your belly. “I found you, sweet apple, that’s how it is, right? That’s how humans address other humans they’re attracted to, with terms of endearment, right?” Your breath caught in your throat when you felt him lean in to inhale your scent, his pointed, curved nose dragging along the fragile skin of your neck, a possibly useless barrier between Ryuk’s teeth and your veins and arteries, nothing would stop him if he wanted to bite you hard enough to rip a piece off, it would be an interesting death to say the least, dead after being torn apart - devoured - by a shinigami, how would that look to the autopsy teams?

And a few seconds after this reunion came the memories, the memories of that night.

Closing your eyes, you hoped it was a nightmare - a hallucination caused by sleepless nights and poor diet - from which you would wake up soon. Closing your eyes, you begged God - anyone who existed and was kind enough to show a shred of mercy for your insignificant soul - that this wasn't real.

You ran through the streets with the desperation of a possessed woman, the devil was chasing you and you would do anything to escape him, luck seemed to be on your side when you saw the door of an old warehouse. Entering and quickly closing the door, you sat in the farthest, darkest corner and prayed not to be found. Sitting on the dirty floor, you thought and silently begged for many things.

You silently begged for shinigamis not to be real, for your childhood friend not to be Kira, for death notes to never be real, for the long, slender monster behind you not to exist; but as always, your prayers were ignored. When you dared to look at the door, you saw nothing and sighed in relief, only to scream in fear when you realized that the creature had been hovering over you the entire time, looking at you with amused and paternal eyes, as if your attempt to escape was nothing more than a childish tantrum.

Forced to face the demon - or god of death - who had descended from the air above you and held you in a bastardized parody of a lovers' embrace, holding you with a strength that hovered somewhere between enough to render you completely immobile and enough not to break your bones or tear your skin.

He didn't give you time to think about begging, your body was suddenly turned and you were forced to face him, your hands tried uselessly to push him away without success, his hands went down from your belly to your thighs squeezing them as if he wanted to feel the softness of your mortal flesh that contrasted completely with whatever existed beneath the rigid cadaverous blue-white tissue that Ryuk called skin. Deciding that your clothes were too much of a hindrance, he dug his nails into them, pulling you due to the force, and you screamed as he ripped them and tore them from your body body, causing painful scratches and friction on your skin. Blood from your shallow cuts stains the floor and you groan in pain as you fall to the ground, now naked.

You curl up in a fetal position on the cold floor of the abandoned warehouse as the creature removes the last piece of clothing that protects your dignity. His hands, cold as the hands of a corpse, seem to leave an icy burn as they grab your thighs to turn you onto your stomach. His silence was the worst part, his curious and almost innocent eyes staring at the most intimate part of you were agonizing, the way he lightly ran his claw over your flesh made you tremble in fear at the possibility of him tearing the most vulnerable part of you, that's when he lowered himself even lower until he was lying on the floor on his stomach with one hand on each of your thighs to keep them open and his face glued directly to your center, staring at your sex.

From your precarious position, lying on the floor with your legs spread, you could see his mouth opening and his huge, monstrous tongue rising towards your pussy. You involuntarily tried to close your thighs around the shinigami's head in a useless reflex, a scream of terror and revulsion echoed from you, echoing off the walls of the warehouse. The texture of the god of death's tongue was unlike anything you could imagine, somewhat similar to a cat's tongue, it was rough, yet soft and too wet at the same time. The strange texture made you hyperaware of every movement of the wet organ inside you, it was as if with every movement Ryuk aimed to reach the deepest point of you. Subconsciously, you wondered if he would stop to take a breath or, better yet, you wondered if shinigamis needed to breathe. If he didn't, the one who could die choking and without air - due to overstimulation - would be you.

You are completely helpless and, in an attempt to create some distance between the shinigami that is feasting between your legs, you try to throw yourself away, but because Ryuk's hands are still holding you, all that happens is that you lose your balance, ending up with your head down, with your waist and pelvis up. In this strange and embarrassing position, Ryuk's tongue goes deeper until...

Oh

OH

His tongue entered the deepest and most protected place of your body - your fertile and healthy uterus - your belly contracts with each movement of his tongue - which moved unnaturally, moving as if he wanted to lick all the most intimate parts of your uterus to taste it - and you felt your abdomen tighten. Oh, bloody hell.

Damn you.

A tired moan is torn from your throat dry and hoarse due to the several screams and moans before. The terror you were initially feeling had blinded you to the signs of pleasure your body was clearly signaling, which is why when you squeezed the wet, slender appendage during what was the most devastating orgasm of your life, you were completely taken by surprise.

Unable to form coherent words or move, due to all the strength in your body having deserted you, you could only watch in silence as Ryuk slowly pulled the offending appendage away from your pussy, all the while letting out a few laughs as if the sight of your open womb was hilarious. Sticky fluids were smearing the lower part of his face, and you could feel your ass getting cold as the fluids above it were cooling and dripping onto the floor below you. For a moment, you thought it was over… until he sat down next to your prone body and placed a large hand on top of your belly.

“You know when I was still with Light, before he got boring? We had a talk,” he rambled. You could almost see a glint of excitement in the depths of his eyes as he rambled on. “A conversation about human women and how they yearn to breed with the most attractive and successful candidate, well, that conversation got me thinking about something fun.” You could hear the manic glee in his voice.

At that moment, you felt a cold sensation, as if the entire temperature of the room had dropped several degrees. Your spine froze when you heard another voice - if you could call it a voice - join the warehouse.

“Who?” You couldn’t see, as your vision was plunged into darkness, because as soon as the temperature changed, Ryuk covered your eyes with the other hand that wasn’t on your belly. With only your auditory sense, you managed to make out a few words from the strange voice that sounded frankly like a fork scratching a blackboard.

“Ryuk… you… really this:… sounds fun… why not?” Whoever the other one was - presumably a shinigami - seemed to be older and more powerful than Ryuk, if the way Ryuk himself seemed to have to bargain was any indication. Naked on the floor of an abandoned warehouse, at the mercy of two creatures, you didn’t know what to expect. You could have imagined many things, but nothing prepared you for this.

Something - a mist or cold liquid - emerged from somewhere you couldn't imagine, moved through your body as if searching for an entrance, and it was in your blindfold that it found its way. Entering and swelling your vaginal canal, the liquid mist found shelter in your uterus, already open due to Ryuk's administrations. All you could do was moan as your uterus grew heavier and heavier, as if whatever was inside you was turning into something solid.

All you could do was moan, writhing uselessly as your body was changed from the inside out. When you stopped being invaded by that thing, Ryuk took his hand off your eyes. Fearfully, you looked at your belly and saw the result of the violation.

Your belly is large and swollen, like that of a pregnant woman. You see contortions under your skin, like a baby kicking.

Your mind, unable to process anything, went blank, but before the darkness enveloped you, Ryuk made you give up your Death Note.

Placing your hand on your belly, you watch in horror as the thing inside you moves as if recognizing the presence of the greater shinigami.

“We have a lot to talk about, but first we will receive the mini apple, be prepared, it will hurt.” He hummed and, after he said those words, pain exploded in your being.

[impuredeeplove]

The Birth of the Beast. (pt.1)

Pairing: Yandere Ryuk x female reader.

Warnings: body horror, non-consensual pregnancy, murder.

(If I forgot something, let me know)

Summary: You - a young woman - wake up in an abandoned hospital, your belly swollen and pulsing with something inhuman that with every movement steals a little more of your sanity. After escaping from the hospital staff who seemed a little too interested in the thing inside you, a certain shinigami comes to claim paternity of your child.

You wake up - disoriented and confused - in a hospital room covered in spiders, the smell of freshly applied antiseptic did not cover the predominant musty smell, the combination of the two hurts your nostrils and the artificial lights of the cold blue lamps - your only source of light in a windowless room - make your eyes water with burning and sensitivity as you look at the peeling walls of the room.

It was not the sudden pain in your skull that put you on alert nor was it the fear of waking up in a supposedly abandoned hospital room, it was the great change in your center of gravity that chilled you to the bone. With trembling hands, you dare to touch the large and full curve of your stomach that seemed about to explode with the disturbingly stretched skin.

the thin hospital gown didn't do much to hide the supernatural appearance of swelling, it did even less to ease the sensation of burning cold and scorching heat that came from your belly, an unexpected movement that came from inside you was enough for the agony to explode through your senses, the thing - it couldn't be human, it was impossible to be human - inside you seemed to be tearing you apart from the inside with every movement, with every bastard attempt to imitate a movement similar to that of a baby.

At the moment the only thing clear in your mind is the primal fear that paralyzes you at the thought of this parasite that was struggling, not like a baby, but like a creature formed with sharp claws and teeth that scratch and tear your insides as if to ensure its own survival it was necessary to devour yours.

Your mind damaged by the agony goes in and out of consciousness, before everything goes dark, you hear hurried footsteps in the hallway - voices of perhaps doctors and nurses whispering - the shrill sounds of medical equipment beeping so loudly that your skull feels as if it is going to split in half.

The next time you regain consciousness you are fully strapped down and restrained on a stretcher, still disoriented you look up and the sight that greets you fills you with dread and lucidity in seconds - there are doctors all around you, doctors with crazy eyes holding scalpels and knives ready to disembowel you like you were a frog stuck with needles in a biology class. Your screams and shaking did nothing to ward off the madmen around you, death seemed inevitable until a grotesque sound came from the mouth of the doctor closest to you as he clutched his chest and fell, for a second there is silence before chaos reigns and like flies every man and woman in the room drops as if some god has personally ripped their souls from the prisons of flesh they inhabit.

As if by magic, the ropes that held you came loose - but as if they had been torn off, leaving you free, with your mind full of adrenaline and fear. You didn't stop to think about what had happened and quickly - as fast as a pregnant woman could - you dragged yourself out of bed.

As you got off the stretcher, stains of a viscous, dark liquid - not like blood, but like tar - ran down your legs, leaving a trail across the hospital floor. The agony of climbing the stairs made you sob, finally finding a door and discovering where you had escaped from: you had fled from a room in the basement of an abandoned hospital, you were in an abandoned hospital.

Or supposedly not so abandoned, if the footsteps and screams coming from the same direction you had just left were any indication.

Your belly distorted in a non-human way, alternating between sharp protrusions and soft contortions, as if the creature inside you was alternating shapes, choosing which would be the most suitable to be born, regardless of the shape you can feel teeth nibbling on your insides in a disturbing attempt to suckle

as if by a miracle or divine protection you manage to avoid your pursuers and hide in some room on the 3rd floor after dragging yourself up the stairs, not that you needed to hide anymore because from afar you could hear your pursuers choking before their bodies fell after a presumed heart attack, the back of your mind whispers information about a killer named Kira, but your survival instincts push this vague information back to the back of your mind

after confirming yourself alone you gather the courage to drag yourself back to the ground floor towards the exit in search of your home, the path through the streets of Tokyo is disturbingly deserted and without a living soul for the capital that is so alive even at night, mercifully there are no witnesses on the street to witness your state of frenzy and debauchery

cutting the path and avoiding the main streets you walk through empty alleys you drag yourself towards the building where you live, climbing the stairs in a weak imitation of the crawling of a worm you reach the door of your apartment, everything seems the same as if you had left a little later than the usual time for work

but nothing made sense because you had not left for long, a few days, and you returned with an empty mind and a disturbingly pregnant belly despite your virginity, driven by the desire for a little order you crawl to the bathroom and when you take off your hospital gown and dare to look in the mirror the sight that stares back at you in the mirror is worthy of a Hollywood production of a horror film.