Help, I'm in Another World and All the Men Are Are So Dangerous! [BL]-Chapter 309: Deimos’s Possession

Just like Ares, when Deimos had taken over him.

Rocco’s breath hitched.

How had he not noticed that sooner?!

What a careless mistake!

"Laxus, I’m so sorry!" he thought to himself.

Angrily stomping his feet, Rocco huffed and glared at Deimos.

In response, Deimos again smirked and uttered the most infuriating words, "You really are a fool."

"Stop saying that while using Laxus’s face, dammit!"

"This is a vessel I finally obtained," Deimos continued, ignoring Rocco’s outburst. "Why would I ever give it up?"

Rocco gritted his teeth.

Damn it! Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

If Deimos had just gone, ’Oh, alright then!’ and left, that would have been even more terrifying.

No way he’d surrender that easily.

So... now what?

As Rocco wracked his brain for a solution, Deimos suddenly curved his lips into a sinister smile.

"If you want this vessel returned unharmed, then obey my orders. Otherwise, I will kill it right here and now."

With those words, he grabbed a fruit knife from a nearby table.

Before Rocco could react, the blade was already pressed against Laxus’s throat.

His blood ran cold.

This bastard!

This absolute scumbag!!

Rocco’s tiny hands clenched into fists.

"Mngh... F-Fine! I get it, I get it, so don’t you dare lay a hand on Laxus!"

He quickly motioned for Georgio and Ragar—who were practically radiating murderous intent—to stand down.

Then, standing firm, he turned back to Deimos.

"Alright! What’s your order?!"

His question made Deimos’s lips curl into a sickeningly amused grin.

"It’s simple," he said.

"I want you to bear my child. Now, strip naked and lie face-down."

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!"

Rocco shrieked.

This was beyond disgusting!

This guy was the worst!

Even though Deimos looked like Laxus, there wasn’t even a hint of the usual flustered embarrassment that Rocco would normally feel in situations like this.

All he felt was pure horror and disgust.

Usually, when Laxus teased him like this, his face would turn red, and, if he was being honest, he wouldn’t completely hate it.

But this?

This was just revolting.

His entire body shook with rage as his face burned crimson.

Seeing his reaction, Deimos tilted his head, looking genuinely confused.

"...? Why? Haven’t you already been doing intimate things with this vessel? Just do as you normally would."

Rocco pouted, puffing out his cheeks in frustration.

Trying to suppress the embarrassment bubbling inside, he shouted, "Y-you idiot! That’s only because it’s Laxus! If it’s not Laxus, then of course I don’t want it!"

Even if he took a thousand steps back—no, ten thousand steps back—he might have listened if Deimos had at least left Laxus’s body first and then tried to threaten him into having a child with Laxus.

If that was the only way to save Laxus’s life, then he wouldn’t have hesitated to accept.

But this?

No.

Absolutely not.

Even if the appearance was the same, it wasn’t Laxus.

And if it wasn’t Laxus, then it didn’t count.

"How troublesome," Deimos muttered. "The body is the same, so it shouldn’t matter. Hurry up and obey. If you resist, this vessel dies."

"Ggh... Nngh...!"

Deimos’s expression remained cold as he pressed the blade further against Laxus’s throat.

A thin trickle of red dripped down.

At the sight, Rocco’s body moved instinctively.

He obeyed.

Slowly, he shrugged off his robe and lowered himself onto his knees.

Following Deimos’s orders, he lay down on his stomach, his back facing him.

As he did, his eyes met those of his two loyal attendants, standing near the window with tense, grim expressions.

Wait!

That’s right!

They were still here!

"D-Deimos! At least let them leave the room!" he stammered. "I-I don’t want them to watch!"

"What a foolish request."

Deimos scoffed.

"If I let them leave, they might call for reinforcements. No, they will stay and silently watch as you are going to bear my child."

"Gwahh!! That’s way too twisted!!"

His desperate plan had been instantly shut down.

As Deimos loomed over him, Rocco felt his last sliver of hope begin to slip away.

He gave up.

"...It still looks like Laxus. It still looks like Laxus..."

He repeated the thought to himself, as if trying to trick his mind into making this even slightly bearable.

Then—

A sudden BANG!

The door flew open.

──"I heard a terrible noise... What’s going on h—huh?"

Standing in the doorway, his damp hair dripping from what must have been a recent bath, was Mr. Makarov.

His well-defined, muscular chest was bare, and his face...

His face was terrifying.

There was none of his usual gentle smile.

Instead, his cold, sharp eyes were locked onto Laxus—no, Deimos.

Rocco shuddered.

Makarov looked truly terrifying.

"...Laxus?"

His voice was dangerously low.

"What the hell are you doing?"

On one side, Rocco lay completely naked, pinned to the cold floor with tears in his eyes.

On the other, Laxus—no, Deimos— loomed over him like an abusive monster.

To an outsider, the scene must have been horrifyingly clear.

An overwhelming, murderous aura exploded from Makarov.

And then—

"You little shit. I’ll kill you."

Before anyone could react, Makarov’s merciless fist slammed into Laxus’s head.

──WHAM!

And just like that, it was over.

Now, instead of a horrifying nightmare, Rocco found himself in a new, much safer situation.

Swaddled like a burrito in an oversized, fluffy robe, Makarov held him tightly, rocking him back and forth.

It was warm.

Safe.

Comforting.

But...

Rocco glanced up at Makarov’s face.

His expression was still terrifyingly cold as he stared at Laxus’s unconscious form with utter disgust.

...Laxus isn’t the bad one here.

It’s Deimos inside him!

Yet, Makarov’s glare said it all—he didn’t care.

"There, there. It’s okay now," Makarov murmured. "Daddy’s here. You don’t have to be scared anymore."

...He had been doing this for a while now.

Soft pats on the head.

Squishing his cheeks.

Hugging him protectively.

It was almost soothing.

The scent—faintly similar to Laxus’s—was familiar and reassuring.

Instinctively, Rocco tightened his arms around Makarov’s shoulders, pressing his face into his neck.