#also i think she and i are on a break. gone from life wife to complicated situationship. so to speak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamincreampie · 27 days ago

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Omgomgomg hiiiii 🥹🥹🥹🩷🩷🌷🌷🌷🌷 can I request an instance where Sukuna’s pregnant wife visits him at his job and he’s the CEO.

Context:

So like no one in the office knows what his wife looks like. He’s insanely private about his life. (Also cause he’s involved in shady stuff and doesn’t want anyone to know the identity of his wife. He meets with a lot of crooked business men on and off the clock.)

But yea the office only know he’s married because of the ring he wears.

So when his gorgeous, thick and very pregnant wife goes to the reception saying “Hi, is Ryomen busy? I’m his wife. I brought muffins for everyone I ate a couple I hope that’s okay.” in the sweetest voice with the biggest smile, the entire floor is in shock. (They know she’s not lying because of the ginormous light pink rock of a wedding ring that’s on her finger. It’s identical to his hair obvi hehe)

But like yeah! She comes to the office for the first time and all the workers just fall in love with how sweet she is. So they scramble to help her and hold her bag and offer her food from the break room and tell her how pretty she is and maybe Sukuna’s personal assistant even gets pulled away and that’s when he notices that everybody’s nearly gone and he finally finds her surrounded by everyone in the break room and maybe he takes her to his office and his mind is reeling thinking something’s wrong with the baby but it just ended up her being like “I’m sorry I know I could have called but look! The baby’s kicking!” And he falls in love with her all over again.

I think it’d be so cute 😭🩷 he seems like the type of hubby to call his wife “flower” or “petal”. Smut is totally up to you I won’t be opposed to it. But eeee!!! I thought it’d be a cute fluffy little fic

One Sukuna fic with a side of Sunshine and a Pregnant Wife coming right up!!! <3

Sukuna x Black pregnant reader

The bustling office of Sukuna Enterprises was alive with its usual energy phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations about deadlines. Ryomen Sukuna, the enigmatic and ruthlessly efficient CEO, was in the middle of one of his intense back-to-back meetings. His presence cast a long shadow over the entire floor. Everyone knew to tread carefully; Sukuna tolerated no mistakes.

The only personal detail anyone knew about him was that he was married, courtesy of the massive, rose-pink diamond ring he wore on his left hand. But beyond that? Nothing. Sukuna was intensely private, and no one had dared to ask for more. Speculation abounded, but without any concrete details, his wife remained a mystery.

Until today.

The receptionist was the first to spot her: a stunning woman in a flowing maternity dress that hugged her very pregnant belly. Her curls framed her glowing face, and she carried a basket of muffins in one hand and a slightly overstuffed purse in the other.

“Hi there!” she greeted with a bright smile, her voice warm and melodic. “Is Mr. Sukuna in? I’d like to see him, please.”

The receptionist blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual tone. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her professional instincts kicking in.

“Oh, no, no appointment,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The receptionist hesitated. No one—no one—saw Sukuna without an appointment. “And you are?”

“Oh, just a friend,” the woman said coyly, her warm smile never faltering. “I brought muffins for everyone, too! I… might have eaten a couple on the way. They smelled so good.”

Her charm was effortless, but the receptionist wasn’t entirely convinced. As she considered what to do, a curious junior associate walked past and froze at the sight of the woman. His gaze flicked between her and the receptionist.

“Who’s she?” he whispered, not quite quietly enough.

“I don’t know,” the receptionist whispered back.

Within minutes, whispers began to spread. A stunning, heavily pregnant woman had walked into Sukuna Enterprises asking for their untouchable boss. No one knew who she was, but the expensive jewelry on her hand, especially the light pink diamond, caught more than a few eyes. The resemblance to Sukuna’s wedding ring sparked theories.

Could it be… her?

The whispers grew louder as more employees found excuses to pass by the reception area, stealing glances at the mysterious woman.

Despite the growing attention, she remained perfectly at ease. When someone offered to carry her purse, she laughed softly and accepted, the basket of muffins still in her other hand.

“Oh, thank you so much! It’s a bit heavier than I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with gratitude.

Soon, the break room became her destination. Chairs were pulled out for her, snacks and drinks were offered, and she was surrounded by employees eager to accommodate her. Her gentle laughter filled the space as she chatted with everyone, thanking them for their kindness and answering their curious but polite questions in a way that revealed little.

Meanwhile, in his corner office, Sukuna noticed something strange. The usual buzz of activity on the floor had dwindled to near silence. His crimson eyes narrowed. Something was off.

Stepping out of his office, Sukuna’s gaze swept over the nearly deserted floor. His jaw tightened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, following the faint sound of laughter.

When he reached the break room, the scene before him made his steps falter.

Her.

His wife.

The woman no one in his office had ever seen, the woman he kept carefully hidden from the chaos of his professional life, sat there, glowing with happiness, her round belly resting comfortably as she laughed with his staff.

“What is going on here?” Sukuna’s deep, commanding voice sliced through the air.

The room went silent instantly. Employees scrambled to make space for him, their faces pale as they realized they’d been caught slacking.

Her head turned, and her smile brightened at the sight of him.

“Ryo!” she said warmly, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. She gestured for him to come closer. “Come here!”

He crossed the room in two long strides, his crimson eyes scanning her from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter but edged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression softened as she reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. “Nope! I just missed you. And look the baby’s kicking!”

For a moment, Sukuna’s icy demeanor cracked. His sharp features softened as he felt the gentle thump beneath his palm.

“You could’ve called, Petal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something uncharacteristically tender.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but then his sharp gaze flicked to the stunned employees still lingering near the door. “Get back to work. Now.”

They scattered like leaves in the wind, murmuring apologies as they fled the room.

Turning back to his wife, Sukuna wrapped a protective arm around her and guided her toward his office. Once inside, he helped her settle onto the plush couch, his eyes never leaving her.

“You’re going to cause chaos every time you visit, Flower,” he said, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “But I brought muffins to make up for it.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he sat beside her. Despite the whirlwind she’d caused, Sukuna found himself staring at her, utterly captivated. She always had a way of turning his world upside down in the best possible way.

And the chaos? Oh, it didn’t end there.

For the rest of the week, the entire office buzzed with stories about her surprise visit. Who could’ve imagined that the stoic, intimidating Ryomen Sukuna was married to such a sweet, cheerful woman? The way she smiled, the way she treated everyone with kindness, the way she looked the staff couldn’t stop talking about her.

Rumors swirled, theories were formed, and every detail was analyzed. But one thing was certain: Mrs. Sukuna had left an impression that no one would forget anytime soon.

Divider by : @bernardsbendystraws

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saccharinesatoru · 7 months ago

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Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by.

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that.

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally.

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru.

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong.

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle.

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth.

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this.

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through.

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother.

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain.

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance.

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose.

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck.

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room.

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.”

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand.

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly.

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt.

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back.

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by.

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out.

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-”

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place.

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now.

And that drove you nuts.

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?”

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers.

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question.

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did.

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer.

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself.

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful.

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal.

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up.

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation.

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity.

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top.

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer.

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away.

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was.

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now.

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance.

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds.

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done.

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you.

That can be for another time.

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts.

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.”

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter.

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on?

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released.

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you.

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point.

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel.

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

“Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars.

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway.

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch.

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat.

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences.

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit.

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain.

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly.

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane.

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding.

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point.

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well.

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless.

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going.

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place.

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches.

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

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anaconamor · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/anadiasmount/766146994146295808/could-you-write-something-about-jude-realising

I loved the only jude pov idea so could you write something about jude telling his (and/or your) parents that he wants to marry you and he’s been thinking about it for a while and that he’s convinced you’re the love of his life and he will do anything he can to prove it to you every single day

this might be a little rough but hubby jude has my heart… 😕😕

“here’s your morning juice and vitamins, don’t forget we have a dinner tonight,” you half understood jude as he spoke quickly, he was late for training like usual, but he never left without saying goodbye. whether you were awake or not, a kiss on your cheek and he was gone for the day. though today seemed different, felt different but you brushed it off.

jude was running late to his appointment, he had no training today but you didn’t have to know that. he went to a small yet very popular jewelry store in downtown madrid, where he had picked out your dream engagement ring. he needed your friends help and they were more than willing to make that trip and helping out a nervous jude.

the ring was set to pick up, and he would ask for your parents blessing tonight when you visited them. you were oblivious, they were oblivious. only your friends and him knew about this. yet all he wanted was the scream that he was closer to marrying you. he had no doubt that you’d say yes. jude knew you wanted to get married, with him. you had drunkenly confessed after a night out and reminded him weeks later when you said your first “i love you’s”.

so jude was ready. you were ready.

you had graduated and landed your dream job. he considered you as his wife already. you knew him from the back of your hand but with jude, he wouldn’t fail to answer any questions related to you. whether it was from your favorite foods, to a movie, to a makeup product, to a favorite memory, he knew all of you. inside and out.

your friends had gasped and covered their mouth, eyes tearing up when jude showed them the ring. they all were in awe, jude especially since it was getting real for him. he couldn’t deny that feeling in his chest, getting choked up with his own emotions, knowing you were his forever home. the only home he wanted to be in, in this life and the other. “it’s absolutely gorgeous jude!” one of you friends reclaimed.

“our y/n is going to love it!” replied your other friend to while jude let out a breath of fresh air. “when do you plan to pop the question?” they asked, “after international break, we have a couple days together and i want to take her on a small getaway. but i want to get her parents blessings first, which we’re doing today because we’re going over,” jude nodded, hearing them let out a small squeal of excitement.

“look mom…” jude whispered, his dad sitting down next to her as jude pulled out the red velvet box from his back pocket. “is this what i think it is?” she gushed, opening the box gently, her hand resting against her chest as she admired the ring. “having this around me is so tempting you don’t understand. all i want is to ask her to marry me,” jude smiled, immediately thinking of you.

“i don’t even have to ask if you’re sure, your eyes and smile say it all,” his dad said making jude look at them. “we’re happy for you both. there’s no doubt in my mind that the two of you are made for each other. while marriage can be hard, it’s also the most beautiful thing that’s ever been created. she’s your soulmate, protect that forever,” his dad continued, standing up to give jude a hug. where he couldn’t contain his emotions.

“thank you guys for everything…”

on the way back, jude had picked up a few groceries and snacks for you. along with his bouquet of flowers since it was time to get a refresh. making sure to stock up on waters and different beverages as well.

after a while jude had returned back to your house, immediately looking to see where you were. “y/n? darling?” he asked, “in here! i’m in the study!” you yelled, meeting jude by the doorway where he engulfed you into his arms. “god i missed you so so much,” he murmured, smelling the sweet scent of your hair. you tippy toed and pressed a small kiss on his lips.

jude laughed at the small state you were in, hair in rollers, and he was guessing setting powder beneath your eyes and nose. “i’m almost done getting ready, i just had to quickly take a call because they needed me to give authorization for something. do you know what you’ll wear?” you say as you walked into the kitchen and drank water.

“yes i do…” jude couldn’t stop staring at you, that look he gave you full of love and respect. “i know i look funny but it’s just the powder,” you laughed, “stop! why are you looking at me like that!” you exclaimed walking over to where he sat. “because i love you, but you do look a little goofy with this on,” he joked feeling the playful slap on his shoulder. “go get ready! now before we catch traffic!” you said seriously while jude just nodded.

while jude anticipated to be nervous, he wasn’t. the sense of comfort yet worth filling his head. this was a huge deal, asking your parents for their blessing. but jude could radiate the answer from a mile away. the love you had together was so traditional and old school, the two of you loved that. it didn’t exist much these days, but the love you and jude had made everyone around you feel alive and happy.

as the night filled with laughs and talks of the past, you had taken over and helped your sister in law with the babies. jude knew this was his chance so he booked it, watching as you disappeared and went upstairs. “could i talk to you both?” he whispered seeing how their faces pulled into confusion but followed him either way. the three of them sat in the living room, jude pulling the ring back out from his back pocket.

“i’ve never in my life been so tempted to risk it all for a person. y/n is my person. my happiness. my home. my all in this world. i never knew if i’d find that. but with y/n it was a quick and undeniable feeling. i feel like i’ve known her my whole life. she knows me more than i know myself, and i knew she’s the one for me since she’s stood and sacrificed for our love…” jude said, your mother letting out a few tears as she looked at the ring.

“it would be an honor if i could have your blessing to marry your daughter. i promise you now i will take care of her forever. not just for marriage, but it’s because im giving you my word. because i love her with my entire heart…” jude asked shakily, knowing how much this meant to you and him. knowing this is just a step closer to finally having your happy ever after.

“you have my blessing jude,” your dad said, standing up and hugging him deeply, knowing there’s no hesitation because jude has never given them the reason. that he knows jude isn’t lying and will stick to his word. “yes you can marry my little girl,” your mother gushed going to jude and hugging him tighter, the two men laughing. “you did an amazing selection with the ring… she will love it,” she said.

“i’m willing to prove whatever it takes to show her how much i love her…” jude sealed. “what are you all doing without me,” you came back with a huge smile, joining your parents and boyfriend.

“i want in on whatever it is…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader

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carto0ncritter · 3 months ago

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Abusive fictional fathers - Robotnik vs. Stolas

I won't be talking about Coconuts here since he's not on screen that much, but know that I feel sorry for the stuff he's been through, poor guy

Robotnik ⮕ Scratch & Grounder

Like... he literally only created these two to use and abuse them and that's crystal clear

When I say Robotnik is an abusive pos, this is what I mean (and this is just some of the physical abuse, don't even get me started on the emotional):

...Okay, that last picture was the last straw. Robotnik's thrist for power has officially outweighted Scratch and Grounder's "value." He felt 0 remorse for throwing them into the lava. Keep in mind, he THOUGHT HE HAD KILLED THEM and DIDN'T CARE AT ALL. Thankfully they were fine. And no the fact that they're robots doesn't make it any less wrong

If you're willing to sacrifice your children for a powerful artefact, then I'm (NOT) sorry to say this, but you're a heartless pos and deserve to be held accountable for your actions. If I were in Scratch and Grounder's shoes, I would have ran the hell away right then and there and found home elsewhere

However, unlike with Stolas and Octavia, at least the narrative doesn't try to convince us that Robotnik loves his sons. Because if he did, he would have tried to change his behavior. Or better, he wouldn't have abused them IN THE FIRST PLACE! AT ALL! No matter what he had gone through! I'm not denying that his mom was a pos to him just like he's a pos to scratch and grounder, but i refuse to see this as an excuse. he should have tried his best to break the cycle of abuse

*sigh* Now I've gotta talk about that stupid bird man... let's just get this over with.

Stolas ⮕ Octavia

Stolas is shown to have been there for Via in her childhood. although we never see them bond over anything, connect emotionally with each other or spend quality time together, we've only got this one nightmare scene. this was the only time stolas was shown to care about octavia

He did his best to calm her down and make her feel safe, then proceeded to break his promise for a booty call. For a childhood "friend" that his father bought for him 25 years ago.

And you're telling me how Stolas didn't realize that bringing Blitzø along in Loo Loo Land is uh... a bad idea that will make his daughter feel even worse?

I HATE the excuse that Stolas was "just clueless." Because anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense would come to the same conclusion: flirting with your booty call in front of your daughter who is a minor and going through emotional hell that happened because you cheated on her mother makes you a horrible and selfish father.

Even worse is that Stolas doesn't learn his lesson and once again neglects Octavia. Stolas is too busy hating his ex wife and gushing over his abuse victim that he can't even be bothered to look for his daughter himself, and instead Loona has to be the one to go find her. And then she literally tells Via how her dad's trying his best and how she should cut him some slack. No. No she shouldn't. Octavia was right to think that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her because that's what his actions show.

He can hug her all he wants and promise to do better but he has done nothing to even TRY to be better for this poor girl.

Not to mention that Loona is a hypocrite. Blitzø has always been doing his best to be a good dad to her, and she thanks him for saving her life by being a complete bitch. It's been five. Fucking. Years. Of unconditional love and support from Blitzø's side. And what does he get in return? A kick in the balls. Blitzø also got beat up by her and hit with the "if I'm so terrible why don't you replace me" after he rightfully called her out and you're trying to tell me Blitzø was the one in the wrong and how this isn't abusive huh ok then whatever ya say

I won't talk about the upcoming episode much. I honestly just don't have the strength anymore. But to make it as short as possible, Stolas is gonna be treated like an uwu poor sad gay boi and once again choose Blitzø, the guy he r*ped, over his own child.

If you check out the leaked story boards for s2 ep12, you'll see how disgusting it is that Via is spitting nothing but facts and yet she'll be demonized by the writers, Stolas lovers and Stolitz shippers. Just...

Please stop lying, dude. Just stop. You shattered her entire life and neglected her for a guy you abused and never got to know on a level that's deeper than sex. No wonder Via thinks he doesn’t love her anymore. The line above gives me the same vibe as THIS line also they made Stolas not only ACT like a guy who victimizes himself but LOOK that way too

STOP LYING. JUST SHUT UP.

I hate this self-pitying hypocrite sm.

And yeah, I get it: he was put in an arranged marriage (this was clearly a retcon, but whatever floats viv's boat) despite being gay and was sheltered and never had friends, but those are explanations for his behavior, not excuses.

Oh and, to anyone who thinks otherwise: Emotional neglect is a form of abuse.

Closing Thoughts

One important thing that I noticed with both Scratch and Grounder and Octavia, is how none of them feel at home with their fathers. A reliable way to know whether you've failed as a parent or not is to see how your behavior affects your kid(s). How does your behavior make them feel?

Let's see here... *checks notes*

Octavia says how Stolas ruined their family, not Stella and in ep12 she's finally gonna call him out on his bullshit thank god. but unfortunately the toxic gay ship will once again be a priority because it's gay

Scratch and Grounder are terrified of Robotnik's wrath, he constantly makes them feel useless and unwanted, but at the same time, they have no problem betraying him both of them always come back to him, just like how Blitzø doesn't leave his abuser because he wants to feel "loved" and "needed" for once even though Stolas treats him like shit

So yeah, if you made your kid(s) feel this way, you've officially failed as a father.

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liahaslosthermind · 4 months ago

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~ 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 4 of Betrayal Summary: What becomes of a family so fractured? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Attempted murder of family, Hurt/No Comfort, Death of a loved one, Grief, Cheating, Betrayal.

Shadows cover his vision, taking away the pleasure of seeing Rhysand's face as Azriel wrapped his hands around his brother's neck, intending to not let go till he is long gone.

Azriel couldn't even think at the moment, nothing on his mind but the sheer hatred he felt for his oldest friend. Nothing on his mind but Rhysand's continued betrayal to Adelaide, even as her body lays still in its eternal resting place.

If she couldn't get revenge for the betrayals right now, Azriel would be her warhorse, having gotten good at the art of revenge over his long life.

So filled with anger, Azriel forgets to leave the walls around his mind locked up tight. It usually wouldn't have been a problem, even at their weakest, breaking into Azriel's mind was no easy feat. But the fear Feyre felt for her mate was enough to fuel her abilities. Suddely, Azriel went slack on top of Rhysand, having been knocked out by Feyre's daemati powers. She hadn't meant to fully knock him out, but she was far too worried about her mate to care all that much right now.

Cassian grabbed Azriel, restricting his arms and wings so he wouldn't be able to attack his brother if he woke up, but not tight enough to hurt him.

The room was silent apart from Rhysand's heavy panting as he caught his breath and Feyre's cooing as she tried to comfort him.

"Are you stupid, boy?" Amren asked, but everyone knew it was rhetorical. "In what court would it be a good idea to tell your grieving and suicidal brother that you made the woman you left his best friend for, the dead best friend he is grieving still, your wife and High Lady?"

Again, it was posed as a question, but Rhysand knew better than to try and answer it.

"We had talked about this, brother. Until we saw that he was better, we couldn't tell him. You may have had more reasons that just wanting to make Feyre your High Lady, but Azriel won't care for the politics of it."

"He was going to kill himself, Cassian! He isn't going to get better. I didn't mean to tell him like that, gods know I can't blame him for what he just tried to do, but we all need to get it into our heads that he is not who he was, that he won't ever be. We lost him the day we lost her." Rhys' voice broke at the end as he said the quiet part out loud.

Truly, as well as he could, Rhysand did see Azriel's side. Love had made him stupid and blind and he knew he did things that the man Rhysand was a few years ago would have also killed him over, but love had changed Azriel too.

Not wanting to partake in the difficult conversation, everyone seemed to disappear, leaving the High Lord alone with his brothers. One unconscious and the other wishing he was so he wouldn't have to talk about what they were certainly about to talk about.

"You had told Addie time and time again that you had no wish for marriage, no wish to tie her to all the responsibilities you had, no wish to put a target on her back. Had I been in slightly worse state of mind when you first told us, I would have tried to kill you too over your hypocrisy, so would most of us."

It was true, the entire family, sans the Archeron sisters, wanted to kill their High Lord for his stupidity, for his continued betrayal. Once Nesta had been filled in on the details behind why it was brutal for him to make Feyre his High Lady, Nesta ran to her sisters to tell her, disgusted that he would continue to hurt his late lover like this.

Only her sisters didn't bat an eye. They knew. They didn't care.

They had their own reasons for their dislike for Adelaide. In Feyre's mind, Adelaide stood between her and her mate, playing the role of the evil mistress trying to break the happy couple apart, even if Feyre easily fit the description too.

For Elaine, it was more skewed. She blamed Adelaide for taking Azriel from her. While the girl had been alive, she had tried to bring the two together after Elaine confided in her about her feelings for Addie's best friend. When Adelaide gushed about how happy she was to hear that, how she had noticed the way the Shadowsinger looked at the youngest sister, Elaine felt as though a boulder had been taken off her chest. Addie never mentioned Elaine's mate, never made her feel bad for not having feelings for him, for wanting another man.

But a few months before she died, Azriel stopped with all the flirtation. He closed himself off from Elaine, remained only by Adelaide's side, and Elaine had assumed it had been her doing. That Addie had gotten jealous when they almost kissed and commanded her best friend forget about Elaine. It made her so mad she wished the stupid girl was dead.

Then when she did die, Azriel was a ghost. No matter what Elaine tried, he just wouldn't get over his misery and grief. So she blamed Adelaide for dying, for closing any opportunities she would have had to get the Spy Master back.

Rhysand didn't reply to what Cassian had said, didn't even give any indication that he had heard the male. Standing up and brushing himself off, he spoke as much as he could with the damage Azriel did to his vocal cords, "Put him in her room. Not his, he doesn't sleep there anymore. I'll call Madja to check on me, and then him. Maybe its time we keep a closer eye on him and if we must, get him help that isn't us."

Cassian was surprised at Rhysand's command. Despite the High Lord knowing he was fully to blame for most of this, Cassian hadn't expected his brother to be so forgiving of his other brother's suicide and murder attempt. But he did as the High Lord said.

It was the first time the General got a good look at Azriel in a while. He had spent the day before with him, but even then Azriel was closed off, hiding his emotions. When he was asleep, Cassian could take in his gaunt face, his pronounced eye bags, and the wrinkle lines that had yet to smooth down from his constant frowns.

He was still beautiful, nothing could take away the Shadowsinger's unnecessary handsomeness, but he wasn't the same as he had been the past 500 years. Cassian had seen him through some of his hardest moments, seen most of his brother's scars form, but he had never looked like this. He looked more lifeless than Adelaide did in her casket.

Gods, what a mess this already dysfunctional family had become.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar angst #azriel #rhysand angst #rhysand #azriel angst #acotar fic #~ lia's betrayal series ~

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stormhearty · 1 year ago

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Pairings: Rhysand x Reader, Feysand

Word Count: 5.5k+

Triggers: mentions of torture, blood, rape (all nothing explicit), insecurities, depression, PTSD

Summary: When Rhysand had gone Under the Mountain, you, his wife, followed him. However, neither of you knew it had been a trap set by Amarantha. And so, for forty-nine, while being trapped Under the Mountain, you had been his support, his pillar, his reason for living while he had been tortured and used by Amarantha. You had suffered along with him, helplessly watching from the sidelines as Rhysand had to whore his way in protecting his city, his family… and you. But little did you know that things would change when Feyre came to save the High Lord of Spring. Little did you know, that yours and Rhysand’s life would change forever. And how your husband’s bond with you would slowly unravel and wrap around the newly Made High Fae.

Note: I was sobbing while writing this. I have no idea where this came from, but I love it. I originally was thinking of basing this off a song from Phantom of the Opera, but it gotten so astray that it became this mess of emotions. This will also be some mini spoilers from ACOTAR through ACOMAF, so just an FYI. I legit thought of this while I was driving home from my 12-hour night shift nursing job. And I wrote this in a couple of hours because of how much inspiration I had! LMAO. I love Rhysand and I love Feysand so much, but I wanted to see write a story that told was so heart wrenching that it ended up being this. I have read a few fics here on Tumblr about Rhysand having a lover before Feyre ever existed. I loved reading and I wanted to have my own little spin to it. I hope you guys enjoy it!

It had been nothing but a trap.

You and Rhysand had gone to the masquerade party Under the Mountain blindly.

The echoes of Mor and Cassian’s begging for either of you to go to the party still ring in your head. The smile that you had given your family and your last words, We’ll be home before you know it, made regret ache in your chest.

It had been a long forty-nine years and the worst forty-nine years of your immortal life.

The first time that Rhysand had decided to become Amarantha’s lover, you all but begged. Begged the High Queen to spare your husband. To have him do anything besides share her bed, you had begged to have yourself tortured by the Attor — anything to save your husband from such a life.

However, Amarantha was ruthless. She wanted to have the High Lord of Night share her bed, a way to torture not only him but you as well.

Throughout the nights, for forty-nine years, you watched and waited every night, for your husband to return to your bed and cry himself to sleep. To have shivers and sobs echo through your dark bedroom. To watch him sit in the tub, trying to scrub away the indecent touches and kisses of the High Queen. You had held him, comforted him. Prayed to the Mother that both of you would be able to return home to your family with an ounce of your sanity left.

And for you, you had to stay strong, for Rhysand — for your home, for your family that was waiting for you beyond the walls of the mountain.

You held back all the tears, the heartache, the pain that racked your body every single night — so you could pick up the pieces of Rhysand that Amarantha would place in your awaiting arms every single night.

Every night you slowly placed Rhysand together, putting him back as whole as possible with all the love you can muster. Focusing on caring for him, focusing on his pain rather than your own. He was so traumatized, hating every inch of himself because of what he did when he was with Amaramtha. You watched as he was slowly breaking and you couldn’t let that happen.

You couldn’t tell him the amount of pain you were having, not when he had done everything he could to protect Velaris and you along with it.

Because while he was being used by Amarantha, you were tortured by the Attor.

That horrid creature that served the High Queen all but relished in torturing your body, mind, and soul. You had bled, unbled, and been tortured all over again — the Attor putting you back together like a child’s block and dumped back into Rhysand’s arms. And every single time, there was no evidence of your pain — no scarred skin, no broken bones. Nothing to show your suffering and anguish — nothing to show you were broken and touched by darkness.

And only you knew that your mind and soul were slowly being ripped apart.

For forty-nine years that was your fate.

For forty-nine years you were Rhysand’s pillar, his support — the one to pick up the pieces to put him together.

But for forty-nine years you were breaking, slowly but surely. And no one was there to put you back together.

And so, when that time limit was slowly ticking away, little did you know your fate was about to change — for the worse.

You watched on the sidelines, with Rhysand by your side, as Feyre Archeron, the fae-hating human, declared her love for the High Lord of Spring, realizing it was too late to save him.

You watched from the sidelines as Rhysand — being the savior that he was — secretly helped the human through her trials and tribulations against Amarantha. You watched as the bargain to keep her alive was made — watched Rhysand’s determination for the human. You couldn’t say anything, didn’t want to say anything… for you knew it would get you and your husband back home and end this long nightmare.

When Amarantha had speculations on Feyre’s winnings against her tests, she decided to use the Attor to torture you for information. In the dead of the night when everyone was high on fae wine, Amarantha had dragged you down and allowed the Attor to break you, and torture you for the information she wanted.

But you never gave up, you never let the truth slip from your lips. Even when your bones were breaking, the nails of the Attor breaking through skin to make you bleed, or when it tried to break through your mental shields to hunt for information — you held on. Fighting tooth and nail against the pain and agony — to protect your husband and the fate of Prythian. You bit down every strain, every struggle, every yell that scratched your throat — worried that anything that may come out of you would reveal the coup that was brewing under Amarantha’s very nose.

And every time Amarantha was done with your torture, the Attor would put you back together — only your mind shattered to pieces. And every night you would crawl back into bed, biting back tears and screams, as you allowed your husband to hold you throughout the night — unknowing of what had happened to you hours before.

You would feel him slip away at night at times, and you’d follow through caverns of rock only illuminated by fae light to the dungeons below, to the prison that held the human — watched as he slipped through the metal gates, all to heal Feyre from the inflicted wounds from her battles against Amarantha. You would watch as she would fight against him, spit at him, as he did everything to ensure her safety and healing. All you wanted to do was scream, but you didn’t… you couldn’t. You would slip away, returning to your bed, pretending you were asleep as Rhysand would return into your awaiting bed. And every single time, you bit your lower lip, to prevent the aching sobs that wracked your entire body.

When the final trial had come, and Feyre had completed the third trial and therefore tortured and killed by Amarantha, you watched as both Rhysand and Tamlin rushed to her aid, eventually ending the High Queen’s life and reign. You watched as all of the High Lords of Prythian stepped forward and gave that kernel of life — a bit of their lifeforce to the human and watched her transform into one of you, a Made-High Fae.

You were happy that Feyre was brought back — the Savior of Prythian, the Defeater of Amarantha’s Reign — she deserves the happy ending, after everything she had gone through.

And you had hoped that would be the same for you and Rhysand once you returned to Valeris. You stood by his side when he had greeted Feyre, and watched when Rhysand had stiffened at the sight of her. Feeling his arm wrap around your waist in a tight grip before winnowing away, watching her face shift into confusion.

Both of you landed in the Townhouse, Mor giving a screech of surprise, wide eyes as she took in the both of you.

“…Rhys… (Y/N)…” she breathed out in shock before wrapping the two of you in a death hug.

The familiar warmth of Mor had you breaking down, your own hands grasping onto her shoulders as forty-nine years of tears racked through you. The three of you fall into the wooden floors in a heap.

But the thing that ripped your soul the most — to the point that it was unrepairable— was the heartbreaking whisper from your husband.

“She’s my mate…”

It was as if your world tilted on its axis and you didn't know what was up or down, right or wrong. Your body froze, and slowly pulled away from Mor’s embrace and looked at your husband with wide eyes.

“What…?”

Rhysand looked at you, violet hues brimming with tears, agony shown through the usual twinkling stars, “Feyre’s my mate…” was all he can muster out.

Your head pounded, your blood ran cold, and all you could feel was your body scrambling away from the embrace, hands and feet clawing at the wooden floors.

Your chest heaved, as you stared at Rhysand.

How fate was so cruel to you.

You need to support him, you are his pillar, you reminded yourself as a strained smile tugged at your lips.

“That's great, my love…” you whispered, voice shaking as you tried to find the words of happiness. But it was so difficult to find — for you knew that his new-found mate, was in love with someone else; was in a whole different Court. And that echo of half of a mating bond would slowly break your husband.

You maintained your composure, scrambling over to gently wrap your arms around Rhysand, running your fingers through darkened hair, “You will be fine…” you whispered as you felt him quiver in your arms, wetness soaking your shoulder, “You will get through this…”

Both of us will get through this… was all you could wish the Mother for.

The first three months after the events of Under the Mountain were the hardest. Every night Rhysand would still wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, screaming. Every night you'd wake up right beside him as he vomited his guts out thinking he was still Under the Mountain, still under the hands of Amarantha. Every night you would hold him in your arms whispering how much you love him and that he was safe with you, that he was back with you in the City of Starlight — back with his family.

You would hold him until he was back asleep, the nightmares kept at bay with you at his side.

But little did he know you were also fighting your own nightmares.

You'd wake up, a hand over your mouth as you held back screams, your nails digging into your skin to stop from waking your sleeping husband with the fear that crippled your body. You would slip from your large bed, down the stairs to the cool breeze of Valeris, kneeling on the ground as you held back every vomit, every groan, every nightmare that shook your body.

You couldn't be weak, not when your family had relied so much on you to keep them together. You were the glue that kept them sane, that kept them from shattering.

But who was going to pick up your pieces when you finally break? You didn't know, and you didn't have the luxury to ask.

The first time Rhysand had winnowed to retrieve Feyre for their “bargain”, all you could do was smile. Gently handling Feyre like a newborn lamb. You cared for her, as she tried to figure out her way through her new body. You watched from the sidelines as Rhysand interacted with the new High Fae, seeing a new light in him that was sparking — one that wasn't there when he was with you.

The second time Feyre was brought to Valeris, you watched as Rhysand pushed her to try to get better, pushed her to feel something rather than the emptiness she was radiating.

“She’s killing herself, (Y/N)…” he had told you one day as the two of you walked through the streets of Valeris, “I need to help her through this…”

Your chest ached with an unpleasant feeling, your whole body screaming that it should have been you that he was saving. But you shook that unpleasant feeling and gave him a small smile, “… You're right…”

Breaking… Your husband was breaking you… bit by bit.

When you had heard the echoes of Tamlin locking Feyre in Spring Court, the anger that Rhysand seeped was enormous. He had ordered Mor to save the poor girl from Tamlin’s clutches and whisked her away back to Night Court.

The look that Rhysand had given you when Feyre all but locked herself away, withering away in that room made you break even more.

You took it upon yourself to slowly help the female, caring for her — and building her confidence and health.

You were the pillar of this family, you had reminded yourself over and over again, all the while being chipped away slowly, No one gets left behind.

You watched as Feyre gained her health, became that girl that you saw Under the Mountain — regained that spark that was put out by Tamlin for all those months. You helped Feyre find herself in this new world, but little did you know you were slowly losing yourself too.

You had given up so much of yourself for your family, for your Court, for your husband that you didn’t know yourself anymore. You questioned your self-worth — wondering if what you have done for the past few centuries was all worth it.

What had you contributed to the Night Court for all these centuries? What had you done to earn your spot next to Rhysand? You were nothing special, the dark thoughts whispered into your ears — insecurities rising from the depths of the shadows. You weren't gifted the powers of the seven High Lords like Feyre, you weren't beautiful or frightening like Mor or Armen, and you didn’t know how to fight like Azriel or Cassian — weren’t trained on the ways of Illyrian fighting. You had nothing to contribute. You had no idea why Rhysand had kept you beside him all these years.

But you continued to give and give for the people you loved. You continued to give little of yourself each time someone from your family broke down — still healing from the effects of Amarantha’s rein. You gave a bit of yourself up to Feyre, your husband’s mate, so she can heal herself from the traumatic experience of her first love. You gave a bit of yourself up for Rhysand, as he slowly healed from his trauma from Under the Mountain.

You became the crumbling pillar in their lives.

Crack, crack …you were like glass, being slowly chipped away by the people you love. Those who you had tried to protect Under the Mountain. The very people that had taken advantage of your love and care without them even knowing.

“She’s in the cabin in the mountains… The Suriel told her that she and Rhysand were mates and that the bond finally snapped in her. And Rhys’ up there too… with her.” Mor had told you over a glass of wine.

Your body froze, which seems to be a common occurrence these days, as the glass of wine slipped from your fingers, shattering on the wooden floors. Your chest burned as you stared down at the shards of glass that covered the floor, your eyes dimming as Mor’s words echoed in your head.

The bond finally snapped in her… And Rhys’ up there too… with her.

Panic filled your senses as you stood up from your chair, shards of glass digging into the bottom of your feet as you fled the room, not sure where your bleeding feet were taking you.

“Shit, (Y/N)! What’s wrong? What happened?” Mor panicked, running after you, a hand reached out to gently grab your shoulder and stop you in your tracks.

It took a moment for you to react, dull eyes blinking, as you pulled your mind from such a muddled state. You turned to look at the blonde, who stared at you with a worried gaze, eyes glancing from your face to your feet, “…I… I don’t know. I’m sorry…” you whispered, not sure why you were apologizing in the first place.

You had looked down, your naked feet oozing out bright red blood, and dulling eyes tracked your footsteps behind you. You couldn’t feel it… the pain. There was nothing… no dull or stabbing pain. You had just felt the cool red liquid on your skin beneath your feet.

“… (Y/N)… (Y/N)!!!”

Head snapped up to look at Mor who shook your form gently, “Hey… What’s going on? Why aren’t you crying, screaming in pain? You stepped on so much glass… Let’s get you to Madja, okay?”

Brows furrowed and you tilted your head at the blonde, “…But it doesn’t hurt…” you all but whispered to her, “… I… I can’t feel the pain…”

Mor blinked in disbelief before shaking her head, “…I’m taking you to Madja… We need to get you seen and healed up…”

Mor gently held both of your hands, giving you a tiny smile before she had winnowed you away to the healer.

“… We’re losing her… mind, body and soul, Rhysand…”

You don’t even remember falling asleep.

“She hasn’t slept, nor ate… She has gotten so thin and so weak over the last couple of months… Has no one in the House noticed?”

You hear filters of conversations as you weave in and out of consciousness.

“Have you been really that busy to not pay attention to your wife, High Lord?”

You recognized voices but were unsure what they were talking about. Was it about you? What was going on?

“I don’t know Madja… She always looked okay. (Y/N) was just busy with her duties… ”

That was Rhysand. Had he really not been paying attention to you lately?

“It doesn’t seem like she’s okay, boy…Why is she like this? Like an empty shell that barely is walking this Earth?”

That was Armen’s voice. She sounded angry.

“… I — I… don’t know.”

“She stepped on glass and didn’t even flinch, Rhys. What’s going on?”

That was Azriel, the steel in his voice was unmistakable.

“We won’t get answers unless we look into her mind, she should be unconscious enough that you could break through her walls.”

You could feel the hesitance in the room before you felt warm hands run through your hair.

“I’m sorry (Y/N)…”

Claws of darkness tore through your mental walls and everything sprung out.

Your memories of the Attor and Amarantha torturing you when you were Under the Mountain. The feeling of your bones breaking, skin bleeding, tears, and screams ripping through your very body every night you were tortured. The feeling of emptiness every time they had put you back together to do it again and again. The emotions of anguish and fear crippled your very soul every time Rhysand was taken away from you each night. The constant worry about your family, fear that if Amarantha found them everything would be all for naught. You had to put on a brave face for not only yourself but for Rhysand to get through this ordeal — to help him heal and push on. Because if you didn’t, you would have failed to keep your family safe.

Everything was revealed, on how broken your soul had become while Under the Mountain. And how broken you were when you realized that your husband was mated to someone else. On how little of you was left when you heard that your husband had completed the mating bond.

On how little of you was left as you gave yourself for your family.

Get out of my head…!!! you pushed Rhysand out of your mind, blockading your memories and pain with metal walls and darkness — impenetrable to the Daemati abilities of your husband.

A gasp escaped your body, back arching as eyes opened wide. Your body sitting up as you pushed hands away, scrambling away as you pressed your back against the headboard, panting as you clutched the fabric of your nightgown against your chest, eyes wide as you stared at your family.

“How dare you rip my mental shields, Rhysand??” you whispered in disbelief, your voice shaking with every word, eyes blurring with tears that threatened your vision.

Chip, chip… crack. The glass has finally broken.

“How could you do that? You had promised all those centuries ago, that you would never do that… And yet here you are… breaking that very promise!!”

You watched as the High Lord flinched, violet eyes diverting away.

Bloodshot eyes stared at the people in the room — your family surrounding the large bed that you had laid on.

“… Are you all just noticing my pain now? Was this the only way you would have ever realized the pain I had to endure for you? On the nightmares that have plagued my dreams for years on end? Have I hidden my pain so well that none of you would have seen it? Without ripping my sanity apart?!

“I’ve given so much of myself for all of you. I have fought tooth and nail to ensure that this family would continue to prosper after Amarantha’s rein… Became that pillar all of you had so wrongfully placed on me… That expectation… was a burden. I realized I couldn’t show any weakness, that I couldn’t break down and show my own nightmares because all of you were still trying to heal.”

“We never expected you to do any of that…” Rhysand started.

“Yes, you have! Who would keep this Court afloat when you were still healing? Every damn night you woke up feeling disgusted under your own skin due to everything that woman had done to you. How could I have asked you to move on and rule over your Court? I couldn’t. I needed you to heal for your own health, for your own sanity. For your family’s sanity and well-being. How could I ask any of you to move on after not having your brother for the past forty-nine years while he was being raped Under the Mountain by that woman? I couldn’t! Everyone was healing! But all of you saw how strong I still was and presumed I was alright… that it hadn’t affected me. That these past forty-nine years didn’t cause me to break… But guess what, it has! More than you have ever believed.”

You took a deep breath, tears spilling over as you fought the panic that threatened to take over your whole body.

“I was tortured, every night for the past forty-nine years by the Attor. To be ripped apart, mentally and physically… every damn night and then put back together as if nothing happened. And I would go back into the dark room with you, Rhys… to watch you break apart after what Amarantha had put you through. I watched you claw your skin at the very thought of her touching you… That her very scent seeped so deep into your skin that you wanted nothing but to claw your very soul out…”

Rhys’ gaze snapped back to yours, agony in its very depths.

A broken laugh escaped you, “How could I have told you what had happened to me when you were so broken… You cried, every night, wondering if you were still yourself… Wondering if you were enough still. How could I tell you of my pain, when you were wallowing in so much of it?

“I had to be strong… for the both of us. So that both of us could return home to our family and heal together. I became strong so that you can heal… and get us out from Under the Mountain… Together. But… I realized… after all these months… You were the only one that was able to make it out… You and Feyre…”

Your gaze drifted to the Made-Fae behind Rhysand.

“While I am stuck… Under the Mountain, with the claws of the Attor and that woman still rooted in my nightmares. And when we got out, back home… I thought that was when I could tell you of my pains, my nightmares… but, I still couldn’t. Not only did that woman still plague your dreams, but your connection to your mate haunted you as well. You felt everything that Feyre felt while she was in the horrors in Spring Court.”

A shiver broke through your fragile body, you felt as if your whole body could just shatter into millions of pieces at that point. And at that point, you wish it did. You wish you didn’t have to expose your soul to the people who broke you apart.

“You prioritized the safety of your mate, one who didn’t know of the bond, who hated your entire being… over the person who had gone through the torture and pain with you Under the Mountain. You chose your mate…”

A smile tugged at the edge of your lips, one that did not reach your eyes, one that did not twinkle as it usually did.

“And I can’t fault you for that… I want to… with every being in my body… every cell of my immortal life. But I can’t..” you whispered, your head shaking in disbelief, “I want to fault you for not choosing me. But I just can’t…Your other half, the part of your soul with breaking, dying… And I couldn’t hate you for it. I stayed strong… so that she could heal… so that both of you could heal so you can make it out of that darkness…”

And yet I brought both of you together… by healing the both of you and breaking me at the same time… You thought to yourself, your brows furrowed with pain.

A shaky sigh escaped you as you opened your eyes, and found yourself staring into violet hues. Rhysand kneeling in front of you on that bed. Shaky hands coming up to cup your face, only to have you turn away, averting his touch.

“…Please don’t touch me, Rhysand…”

You watched from the corner of your eye how the High Lord’s body stiffened at the sound of his name escaping your lips like that. You never had called him his full name, not in the centuries you have been together. It had always been Rhys… with the laugh that would accompany it, the smile that would tug at the edge of your lips when you called out to him.

Not anymore. That person had died Under the Mountain — forty-nine years ago.

“…Please don’t touch me when you have held your mate…” you pleaded, wrapping your arms around yourself — wanting to crawl into yourself and disappear, rather than have Rhys touch you, and comfort you.

“—- I…”

“—-Don’t say you’re sorry…. Just don’t. If you were truly sorry, this wouldn’t have happened…” you looked and turned to the healer, “Madja, please escort them out… I don’t want to see them right now…”

The pleas from your family went deaf to your ears, you closed your eyes hearing the yells and cries as Madja removed them from the room, the doors finally shutting, leaving you in silence.

And when you were finally alone, you finally broke, a scream so excruciating that it echoed throughout all of Prythian.

“You’re going to become a statue at this point, (Y/N)…” murmured the Captain as he placed a light shawl over your shoulders.

It had been almost a decade since Madja had gently handed you over to the High Lord of Dawn Court.

The Night Court healer realized that you had been too broken — too fragile to be glued together by her ancient, old healer hands. Madja knew you’d continue to suffer underneath the skies of Valeris, to be so close to those who had ripped small pieces of you away, leaving nothing but the raw edges.

You needed somewhere to heal, and Thesan had willingly opened his doors up for you after hearing what had happened. The High Lord remembered you from Under the Mountain, a figure that had always stood by Rhysand's side — a figure of support for the High Lord of Night Court.

And yet when things fell apart, they had left you… pieces on the ground — shattered. He couldn't leave you that way, not after everything that you went through.

So he took you in, healing your mind, soul, and heart.

It had been a tough few years. You were an empty shell of your former self. You never ate, never slept, didn’t even say a word to anyone — just stared into the golden light of Dawn Court skies. It took a lot of coaxing from both Thesan and his lover to get you to start healing.

It was slow, excruciatingly slow. But Thesan knew that it would take years, centuries even for the amount of pain and trauma to minimize.

When you felt the light shawl drape over your shoulders, you looked up at the Captain and gave him a small smile, nodding your head to thank him.

The Captain of the Peregryn hummed out a stood next to you while you sat in your chair, awaiting his lover to join the two of you. You knew that the High Lord had a meeting with one of the Seasonal Courts that day and it would have been a long meeting and Thesan didn’t want to leave you alone too much due to your delicate condition; and thus having his lover stay by your side.

You heard the door open, but it sounded distant as you just stared absentmindedly outside, allowing the cool breeze of Dawn Court to wrack a shiver through your body.

“I told you to watch over her, my love…” Thesan’s voice echoed through your room.

What you didn’t expect was another pair of footsteps to follow Thesan’s. Your body stiffened, an unknown person entering the sanctuary of your bedroom. Feeling a familiar weight on your shoulder, you looked up to gaze up at the High Lord of Dawn who gave you a gentle smile, “You will get a cold, my child…” he murmured.

“That’s why I gave her a shawl…” you heard the Captain murmured. And the light battering between lovers caused you to tug a tiny smile on your features.

Your eyes moved from the couple to the person that had occupied Thesan’s side. You recognized him — the High Lord of Summer, Tarquin. You met him briefly Under the Mountain, but never spoke to him. Turquoise eyes met yours and he bowed his head, and you just tilted yours in question.

Thesan watched your movement and glanced at the Summer High Lord.

“My child… I think it’s time that you make new friends…”

Tarquin stepped towards you and set out his hand. You stared at it for a few moments before you raised your own to place on top of his palm, “It’s an honor to meet you, (Y/N)…” he hummed out, pressing a kiss on top of your hand, “My name is Tarquin — -”

“… I know who you are High Lord of Summer…” your voice weak, a whisp of sound in the Dawn wind, “Why are you here? Why are you willing to see me?”

Tarquin’s brows scrunched together before he relaxed his features, “… I want to help you heal… A decade in Dawn Court sounds boring…”

Thesan’s quip on the side caused a quirk in your lip as you focused on Tarquin.

“Come with me to the Summer Court, hopefully the warmth there will heal you a bit more…”

You stared at Tarquin, hesitance in your every feature, a hesitant nod causing Tarquin to smile before winnowing you away, landing in Summer soil, greeted by the warm sun.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhys acotar #( .one shot : breaking like glass )

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imblueeforyuu · 3 months ago

Text

Yandere monster x male reader

part two

Imagine, you're a new dad of a precious pair of twins. You have a beautiful wife, she stays at home with the kids while you work. You love your life, and the people in it. love your wife, and you love your kids. Your life is going perfectly, absolutely nothing could ruin it.

“Have a great day at work sweetheart,” your wife said, kissing your cheek. You blush it’s been five years since you started dating but you still feel like that schoolboy who couldn’t look at her without blushing.

Honestly you didn’t know how you pulled her. You were such a nerd in high school, your nose in a book, and not to mention your obsession with monsters. But she was the queen bee type. You kiss your baby's goodbye and head off to work, not before stealing another kiss from your wife. You smile big, this is life.

You came home to a silent home, Instantly you could tell something was wrong. Normally you’d come home to the smell of dinner cooking, normally you would hear your wife humming along to whatever song she was listening to. But no, it was quiet. You walk towards your room, maybe she was taking a nap? It was dark so you turned on the lights as you passed by them. Walking into the master bedroom you saw nothing. Wait, the kids, you walked into the nursery. Nothing was wrong, thankfully.

You hear the door close behind you. You pause. Turning around you see nothing. Was something here? You get closer to your kids. Wait, maybe it’s your wife pranking you, yeah that works. She was never that type but maybe she was just feeling playful.

“Hun,” you chuckle. “I love the prank but you're starting to creep me out.”

You feel something grab your waist, but it wasn’t the small hands of your dear wife. They were big and cold. Definitely not her.

Imagine someone, or something coming close, Studying you.

“This is who she chose over me,” the thing scoffed. You still haven’t gotten a good look at the figure that grabbed you. He seemed mad at you, or you assumed it was a he.

“You're a twig,” it demeaned you. It seemed proud of itself so you weren’t going to break the news to him that his insult sucked.

“Well, doesn’t matter anymore I’m here to take back my kid,” he let you go and stalked off towards the crib. Your eyes widened. What does it mean by his kid?

Imagine the fear when this thing goes towards your kids. Your babys, barely even a year old, could die because of this strange man you can’t even see. Which was honestly starting to freak you out, I mean wouldn’t your eyes adjust by now?

You were so freaked out that your mind goes blank. The only thought is to save your kids, but how?

‘Light‘ You hear a voice whisper in your head‘. The light switch! But what is that going to do? Whatever, no time to think. You quickly turn on the light.

“Argh!” The monster yowled. It slapped his hands to his eyes. It worked! It was weak to light, but now what? The monster was writhing in pain. You kinda felt bad. Brushing that thought away you grab your twins and book it out of the house.

Days pass and you finally decide to go back to your house. Thankfully everything seemed ok. Still no wife but at least the monster was gone, well that’s what you thought. Walking into the twins shared room you saw the monster again you pause. It was still rocking back and forth covering its eyes but it seemed ok enough. The monster heard you come in. It bolted towards your feet, it started to beg.

“Oh please great lord turn the lights off,” it cried out, kissing your feet. You do. The monster laughs maniacally and goes to attack you. You turn on the lights. immediately it went back to begging. You smirk. Now you have a puppy demon monster thing you can force to do your bidding (getting groceries you hate getting groceries) your electric bill did go up But it was all worth it. Your twins also seem oddly ok with the monster for some reason. maybe they have a connection you don’t know about? He did mention one being his kid Well doesn’t matter, now you have twin infants and a seven foot puppy to take care of. You hardly have time to think of such minuscule things like that. Right?

#male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x male darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere thoughts #yandere drabble #yandere monster #monster fucker

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thesecretwriter · 1 year ago

Text

how each moon boy would react to an argument with you (sfw) – part 1.

summary: what the title says!

warning: angsty angst.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: I’m feeling angsty lately, so here you gooo! ALSO, there’s more context to the situation of these headcanons, but they’ll be revealed in part 2. So don’t go hating on the moon boys just yet.

minors/ageless blogs dni.

Masterlists

part 2

Steven Grant:

“Are you really gonna bring this up now?”

His tone had you looking at him as if he grew another head.

“When else would be a good time to bring this up, hmm? Because I think now is the most appropriate time,”

Steven rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and sat on the couch facing you.

He had come home from significantly late with no explanation. You found out through social media that he went to an event celebrating Layla without informing you.

“Its late and I’m tired,” he said as he rubbed his face and sighed heavily.

Oh, he is tired?

“You don’t think I’m tired? I understand you have a past with Layla, but the way you go about doing things is exhausting me. All you ever do is talk about her. Everything is Layla this and Layla that,”

You explain to him out of frustration.

“She was right about you,” he says with a hint of sass.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked with furrowed brows.

“I mean that maybe Layla was right about you being controlling. Why do you think I never told you where I’m going. You would’ve tagged along and dampened the mood.

Wow, wow. So, Layla and he talk about you.

“I can’t believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. If you have an issue with the way I am then you should address it to me. Not go and talk to your EX-WIFE about it,” your voice had increased towards the end as you glared at him.

“Its not my problem if you’re insecure,” he said with a shrug.

Each word from him added more cracks to your already breaking heart.

You shook your head at him wordlessly and began to look for your bag and jacket around his apartment.

He sat upright on the couch and watched you with confused furrowed brows.

“What’re you doing?”

Once you gathered your things, you walked towards the door with him now trailing behind you.

“I asked you a question,” he said firmer.

You looked at him with unshed tears and saw his expression soften.

“Leaving,” was all you said before unlocking the door and walking away from him.

Steven cursed under his breath and walked after you.

“Y/n, its late. Stop being ridiculous,”

That ticked your off even further. You abruptly turn around to face him.

“I don’t expect you to be concerned about me anymore. Go ahead and worry about your precious Layla and her thoughts on our relationship,”

You left him standing their speechless as you exited his apartment building. Steven was left feeling an ache in his chest and the weight of his actions and words.

Marc Spector:

“Look at the state of you,”

Were the first words Marc heard upon returning to the apartment. He had been gone for days and you had no way of contacting him.

“Y/n, please. I just want silence,” he said tiredly and sat lethargically on the bed.

“You can’t expect me to not be panicked when you come home with a gunshot wound. Did you even go to a hospital?” you ask in disbelief.

“I can take care of these things on my own,” he groaned and moved to face you.

“Marc, I can’t keep seeing you like this,” you admit to him.

Each time he left that door you would say a silent prayer to ensure he would come back to you.

“You knew what this relationship was going to be like-“

“Yes, but I didn’t expect you to be coming home like this,” you motion to his form.

Marc was growing annoyed.

“This is my life y/n, what do you want me to do?”

Your eyes searched his tired ones as he spoke.

“Exactly Marc, this is your life. I want you to take care of it,”

He scoffed at your words.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life,” he said bitterly.

“That’s not what I’m-“

“Save it, okay? I already deal with enough when it comes to Khonshu. I don’t want to deal with you as well,”

“Deal with me? What? Marc, what have I ever done to make you feel like this? Me being worried about whether your alive or not upsets you?” you asked a string of questions as endless thoughts ran through your mind.

“Just go,” is all he said as he turned his back to you and laid on the bed.

You watch his form, waiting for him to take back his words, apologise… do something – but he just lays there.

You nod to yourself and gather your belongings to leave. It was well into the night and significantly late, but you did as he said and walked out that front door.

He laid in bed with his thoughts, thinking whether pushing you away was the right choice.

Jake Lockley:

You walked into the bar to see him stood rather close to an unknown woman.

With anger running through your veins, you walk up to him and see his eyes slightly widen when he sees your approaching him.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked with a monotone.

“I’ve been waiting for you at home for the passed 3 hours,” you said as calmly as you could.

The woman standing close to him looked surprised at your words but made no move to walk away from the obvious situation.

“You should’ve kept waiting,” he said uninterested as he took a sip from his drink.

You watch him with narrowed eyes as he looked back to you.

“Is this how its going to be? You’re going to act like a total stranger in public and my boyfriend in private?” you asked feeling hurt.

He hummed at your words and sat up straight in his seat at the bar.

“You’re clingy,” was all he said, knowing that those words would hit you harder than anything else.

Throughout your life, you always had someone to be around. Your parents, siblings, friends and now in a foreign country you found solace with Jake spent every waking moment with him when you could. It was normal for you, and he didn’t seem to mind it.

“Clingy?” you asked as you choked back tears.

Jake clenched his jaw slightly before relaxing and putting his arm around the shoulders of the woman next to him.

“You heard me,” he said with a chuckle.

You took in a deep breath to compose yourself. Clearly you were not wanted nor needed here.

“Okay, if that’s what you think. You can have all the space you want from now on,” you said and turned to walk away.

“Is she actually you girlfriend?” asked the unnamed woman.

“One of many, hermosa,” he said under his breath.

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slytherinshua · 7 months ago

Text

MRS. SCROOGE VS KIM DONGHYUN

genre. comfort. warnings. implied that reader has depression and depressive thoughts throughout the fic. reader uses humour to make their depression seem lighthearted. not proofread. pairing. leehan x reader. wc. 762. request. requested by anon for #39: "don't listen to the voices in your head, listen to mine." a/n. i love leehan :( the way hes the best in bonedo at emotions and like the therapist ugh i love him so much!!! also this was very inspired by personal experience. net. @onedoornet

Donghyun knew something was up with you when he found you sitting in front of the fish tank instead of in your room. As the co-parent of the fishies, of course it was normal for you to check up on them. But zoning out in front of them? That was a Donghyun thing.

“What’s up?” He asked, pulling up a chair beside you, mirroring the position you were sitting in with your arms wrapped around your knees.

“The sky.” You mumbled, giving your boyfriend a mere glance before your gaze moved back to the shrimp at the bottom of the tank.

Donghyun sighed, “I know you’ve been stressed out lately. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it.” He told you, also looking at the tank, knowing eye contact might have the opposite effect of the one he wanted.

You huffed, “The voices, Donghyun.”

Donghyun raised an eyebrow, “The voices?”

You bit the inside of your cheek and turned to him, “The ones that tell me I’m useless and that nobody cares about me. You know the ones— annoying little devils, but they’re so convincing.”

Donghyun hummed in understanding, a sad smile on his face. He adored you and the way you described things, even the little depression dementors that tormented you. You were so full of life despite how much you suffered. From the moment he first saw you until now, you amazed Kim Donghyun.

“Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine.” He said, reaching for your hand. You met his eyes skeptically, not sure what your boyfriend had up his sleeve. But you were sure it was something. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that Donghyun never failed to surprise you. He was always unexpected.

“I love you. I think you’re amazing, you know? No matter what, I’m always going to be here for you. Even when you don’t think you deserve it or when you wish you could just disappear. Trust me, if I wanted to leave— if I didn’t actually love you— I would’ve been long gone by now.” He told you, his voice confident, reassuring, loving.

And you wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling onto every word that left his mouth and believe them like they were gospel. You wanted to kiss him senseless and forget about the rotten world you were blessed enough to meet him in. But that voice inside your head said otherwise, fighting off the words your boyfriend told you, labelling them as lies, as promises that he would break just like everyone had before. You weren’t worth it. You weren’t worth anyone’s care or love. There was no way Donghyun actually—

“Y/n. What did I say? Don’t listen to the voice. What’s his name anyway?”

“Her name, actually. Mrs. Scrooge. She’s Scrooge’s grumpier wife. She’s insufferable.” You said, a little smile playing on your lips.

“Mrs. Scrooge? Must be tiring having to host that old lady in your pretty head.” Donghyun smiled, a mix of amusement and sadness in his voice. You just nodded, finally cracking a proper smile. “Well, tell Mrs. Scrooge that she’s not invited to this discussion.” Donghyun added, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Alright. I think she’ll go to bed for the night if I ask her.” You mumbled, staring back at the corydoras swimming around without a thought in the tank. They didn’t know how awful the world was— they only knew Donghyun and his perfectly caring nature. You wished you were a fish. But that would be impossible. At least you had Donghyun regardless.

“I love you. Thanks for getting her to go to sleep. She’s a real headache.” You mumbled, starting to stand up. Donghyun followed your movements, walking behind you to the kitchen.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked gently.

You hummed, “A lot better. Thank you.”

Donghyun smiled, heart now at ease. He opened his arms for you and you fell into them, letting Donghyun bury his nose in your hair, pressing occasional kisses to the top of your head.

The world was rarely kind to you, and some days it felt as if you were beaten so low to the ground that giving up and collapsing completely would be the better choice. But, no matter what, Donghyun always found you and offered you his hand, helping you up again with a reassuring smile and a promise to always be by your side.

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months ago

Text

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! -18

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Everything related to Celestial Enterprises has fallen to the ground. Once a conglomerate company, now it’s just a name.

You watch everything on the TV beside Cassandra's bed. She’s still weak since the incident. Reading the headlines about Celestial, you say, “We won, Grandma. Wish you could see it.”

Then the door opens, and Bucky comes in with flowers in his hand. He smiles at you, “How is she?”

You glance at Cassandra and sigh, “Every time I come by, she gets tired easily and falls asleep. But the nurse and doctor said she’s getting better.”

Bucky nods, understanding all too well. He went through the same phase—his trauma triggered, and he got drowned in his nightmares again.

“Give her a moment,” Bucky says gently.

He steps closer, placing the flowers in a vase on the bedside table. You notice the care in his actions, the way he adjusts the petals so they look just right. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world in a place like this.

“Have you eaten?” Bucky asks, turning his attention back to you.

“No,” you admit, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders.

“Then let’s get something to eat,” he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He offers his hand, and you take it, grateful for the support. You glance at his hand, noting the absence of gloves. The gesture strikes you—evidence that he’s moved past his trauma.

As both of you leave the room, you take one last look at Cassandra. The door closes softly behind you. Unseen by you, Cassandra’s eyes flutter open. She clenches the blanket with her hand, her grip strong and determined.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

At the Hospital

All the hard work that Jonathan has poured into Celestial Enterprises has come to nothing. Losing the company has shattered his soul more than losing Ophelia ever did. The company was his life, the reason why he breathed.

It doesn’t stop there. It turns out his wife, Genevieve, is related to a criminal mastermind who kidnapped Bucky. Not only is he bankrupt, but he also married a woman with a criminal past. Genevieve is on her knees, tears streaming down her face as she begs for his forgiveness.

“I had no part in it,” she sobs. “I didn’t know.”

Jonathan, still stuck in the hospital bed, looks at her with pure disdain. “You’re disgusting.”

Genevieve’s heart sinks. The only person in this world who could help her is him. She doesn’t understand why she’s connected to Bucky’s kidnapping. She wasn’t involved at all. Victoria is gone, and all their assets are frozen because of the bankruptcy.

She has no friends left to ask for help. The socialites who once fawned over her now shun her. Desperation clings to her like a second skin as she looks around the sterile hospital room, searching for a lifeline.

“You have to believe me,” Genevieve pleads, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know about Bucky. I never would have—”

Jonathan interrupts her, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “You’re nothing but a parasite. I should have seen it from the start. You latched onto me, thinking you could rise above your sordid past. But you’ve dragged me down into the mud with you.”

Genevieve’s eyes widen in shock and anger. “How dare you? After everything I’ve done for you, for this family?”

Jonathan sneers. “Done for me? You’ve done nothing but ruin everything you touch. You’re a cancer, Genevieve. And now, because of you, everything I’ve built is gone.”

Her hands shake with fury and desperation. “You think you’re so perfect? You think you’re blameless in all this? All of this happened because of your daughter!"

Jonathan’s eyes flash with anger. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Genevieve’s vision blurs with rage and hurt. In a moment of blind fury, she grabs a syringe from the nearby tray and stabs it into Jonathan’s chest. He gasps, eyes wide with shock and pain.

A nurse, who just entered to check on Jonathan, sees the attack and screams, “Security! Help!”

Genevieve looks at the horror-struck nurse, then at Jonathan, whose eyes are starting to glaze over. Panic takes over. She pulls the syringe out and drops it, her hands covered in blood.

Without thinking, she bolts from the room, running through the hospital corridors. Alarms blare, and footsteps echo as security personnel rush to intercept her.

Genevieve’s mind races as she runs, knowing she has nowhere to go and no one left to turn to. The life she once knew is in ruins, and now she’s on the run, a fugitive from the consequences of her own desperation and rage.

The news traveled fast, and you soon heard that Jonathan got hurt again, this time because of his own wife. “Wow, karma,” you muttered under your breath.

You touched your grandma's hand, still resting as she slept. “He got what he deserved. Now all that's left is that woman.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was a call from the hospital. Answering it, you heard the voice of Jonathan’s doctor on the other end.

“Your father is in a coma,” the doctor said gravely.

You felt a surge of emotions but quickly composed yourself. Before leaving, you kissed Cassandra’s forehead gently. “I’ll be back soon, Grandma,” you whispered.

Arriving at the hospital, you walked through the sterile corridors to Jonathan’s room. The sight of him, lifeless and hooked up to machines, brought a strange mix of satisfaction and pity.

You leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “All those years, you ignored me, abandoned me. Now look at you. Helpless. Everything you built is gone. Your wife betrayed you, your company is ruined, and your precious Victoria is gone. This is the end for you. You did this to yourself.”

You let the words sink in, hoping he could somehow hear the pain and anger you had been carrying for so long. After you finished, you straightened up, feeling a strange sense of closure.

Just then, your phone rang again. This time, it was the nurse from Cassandra’s care facility.

“Your grandmother is missing,” the nurse said, her voice frantic.

“What? How could she go missing?” you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

You hurried out of the hospital, trying to think where she could have gone. The streets seemed to blur as you drove, your mind racing with worry and fear.

“Where could she be?” you whispered, hoping for a miracle.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Genevieve went to Valerie's studio to hide and to find the secret stash of money she had hidden there. She needed it to run away, to call in old favors for a new identity and passport. As she hurriedly prepared to leave, her hands shaking with a mix of fear and desperation, a pair of scissors fell, landing perilously close to her fingers.

“Oops. My hand slipped,” came a cold, calm voice.

Genevieve shrieked, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Cassandra standing in front of her, a chilling smile on her face.

“Hii!!!” Genevieve shrieked, shocked to the core.

Cassandra’s eyes were icy and piercing. “You’ve taken my daughter’s life, stolen the childhood of my granddaughter. Now it’s your turn to live in hell.”

Genevieve backed away, trembling. “You…you’re crazy!” she stammered.

Cassandra stepped closer, her voice steady and unyielding. “You ruined everything. Jonathan was a fool to fall for you, but you knew exactly what you were doing.”

Genevieve tried to muster some defiance. “Jonathan loved me!”

Cassandra laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You manipulated him, tore our family apart, and for what? Power? Money?”

Genevieve's face twisted in anger. “You can’t do this to me! I won’t let you!”

In a swift motion, Cassandra slapped Genevieve across the face. “Aww,” Genevieve whimpered, holding her stinging cheek. She couldn’t believe this old woman had the nerve to strike her, and the fact that Cassandra’s expression remained unchanged was even more unsettling.

Now Genevieve understood where your temperament came from. Not from Jonathan, or even from your late mother, but from Cassandra.

“You won’t get away with this,” Genevieve hissed, trying to sound brave.

Cassandra’s eyes bore into hers, unflinching. “Oh, but I already have. Your life as you know it is over. You have nowhere to run, no one to turn to. You’re alone, just like you made us feel.”

Genevieve's bravado crumbled, tears welling up in her eyes. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

Cassandra shook her head slowly. “It’s too late for apologies. You’ll pay for what you’ve done. Enjoy your hell, Genevieve.”

The fight between Genevieve and Cassandra continued to rage on, a chaotic blend of anger and desperation. The studio echoed with the sounds of their struggle—Genevieve's frantic, panicked shouts and Cassandra's fierce, unrelenting movements.

Genevieve, despite her earlier bravado, was struggling. She tried to fend off Cassandra’s relentless attacks, but the old woman was surprisingly strong.

Each time Genevieve attempted to counterattack, Cassandra met her with a forceful push or a sharp jab, her movements precise and driven by years of suppressed rage. Genevieve’s face was contorted in fear and disbelief as she realized Cassandra was far more formidable than she had anticipated.

Suddenly, the sound of sirens pierced through the air. The studio door burst open, and a flood of police officers, followed by you and Bucky, stormed in. The sight before them stopped everyone in their tracks.

You and Bucky exchanged stunned glances. Despite her age, Cassandra fought with a raw, unfiltered strength that defied her appearance. Her face was a mask of determined fury, each movement fueled by years of pent-up anger and pain.

Genevieve, on the other hand, was visibly shaken, her attempts at resistance growing increasingly desperate as Cassandra's relentless assault continued.

The police officers hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to intervene without escalating the situation further. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and stepped forward.

“Grandma! Stop!” you commanded, your voice echoing through the studio.

Cassandra paused, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and turned to face you. Her eyes, usually so calm and composed, were now blazing with the intensity of her emotions. For a moment, she seemed to waver, the anger in her eyes softening just slightly.

Bucky moved quickly, stepping between the two women, his presence commanding and authoritative. “Everyone, calm down,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re taking you both into custody.”

Genevieve, now visibly trembling, clutched her bleeding cheek, her bravado shattered. She looked at you with fear and resignation, realizing that her escape plan had crumbled.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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atleastpleasetelephone · 2 months ago

Text

Little Darling

Chapter 7 - I wanna be in love

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate class.

Word Count: 3.9K ish

TWs: Possessive kink, dollification if you squint, Elvis is a little dominant, praise kink, use of Daddy in a sexual context, fingering, p in v sex, erectile dysfunction, crying, self-esteem issues.

Elvis spends the rest of the week living in Tegan’s apartment, trying to do something to keep it tidy and also trying to cook them both dinner. He burns a lot of things and ends up ordering a lot of deliveries, but she finds the fact that he keeps trying to do things for her that he’s never had to do for himself incredibly endearing. Elvis likes being in the apartment. It’s harder to feel lonely in a place so much smaller than Graceland, and he looks forward to Tegan coming home from work every day. He buys her little gifts to make up for the terrible food and also for the time when he did a load of washing and somehow managed to dye all of her white clothes pale pink. He reads and sometimes he calls Jerry, who he’s been missing lately and who he wants to update on his relationship more than anyone, for some reason. Maybe he’s trying to give the other man hope for the future, as he goes through what sounds like a messy divorce. Elvis empathises, more than he thinks his friend really realises.

It’s Friday, and Elvis hears the clunk of the door and rushes to greet Tegan.

“Hey baby. Good day at work?”

He already has his arms around her and is kissing her neck before she’s even got her shoes off.

She giggles. “Yes, thanks. Tiring, but good.”

“Thought ya were never comin’ home.”

“Sorry, the session dragged on longer than expected.” She looks around the apartment. “What have you been up to?”

“Cleaning,” he replies, proudly. “Cleaned the kitchen. Mopped the floor.”

She turns her head and puts a hand up to stroke his cheek. “You’re getting to be such a good little house husband, ‘raur,�� she teases.

He growls in her ear, squeezing her and tickling her and making her squeal and laugh at the same time. “Don’tcha go tellin’ anyone about this. I’ve gotta reputation to live up ta.”

“I promise. I’ll tell them you just laze around all day, when you’re not having sex with supermodels.”

He sniggers. “It’s not lazin’, it’s post-coital recovery time.”

“Exactly.”

They look at one another for a moment and then he leans down and kisses her thoroughly.

“Gotcha a gift, baby.”

Letting her go, he walks over to the kitchen counter, picking up the fancy bag there and handing it to her.

“Of course you did, it’s a day with a y in it,” she replies. He pouts and plays at looking dejected, and she kisses him again. “I’m teasing. You know I love presents.”

“Presents,” he repeats, mimicking her accent. “Presents for Queenie.”

She puts the bag down and launches herself at him, telling him off for making fun of her whilst poking and tickling him. He laughs, easily fending her off for a while, but the more she tells him to stop taking the piss out of her accent the funnier he finds it, and he ends up giggling helplessly on the sofa, with her on top of him tickling him and making it worse.

“Please… please… ahhh... I surrender!”

She laughs and flops down onto his chest, both of them exhausted and breathing heavily.

“Ya gonna open them?” He asks, when he’s got his breath back.

She sits up, half on his lap and half on the sofa. “Depends. Are you going to keep taking the piss out of me?”

Elvis bites his lip, sniggering and trying really hard not to make a comment about what she’d just said. “N-no, honey. I uh… I’ll keep quiet.”

“You better.”

He grins as he watches her get up and walk over to the bag. She’s wearing one of her work outfits, a brightly patterned blouse and a form-fitting pencil skirt, and he can’t help wishing that the apartment was wider so that he could watch her walking away from him for a little longer.

“You looking at my arse, Mr. Presley?” She asks, walking back with the bag now.

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”

She snorts, sitting back down next to him and pulling two large boxes out of the bag. They’re both from a fancy clothes boutique, and she opens the first one to a sea of gold material. Finding spaghetti straps she decides it’s probably a dress, and lifts it up by them to get a better look at it.

“For ya to wear tomorrow,” he says as she stares at it.

“I thought it was just a casual barbeque?”

The dress looks like something a disney princess would wear, with an asymmetrical skirt made of layers of gauzy golden material.

“Yer my Queenie, so ya have to dress like one.” He smiles and kisses her. “Ya want a crown too? I bet I could get Lowell to make ya one.”

She giggles. “I don’t need a crown. Elvis, this is too much. This is something to wear to a fancy dinner, not a barbeque with Lisa and Maria and Sonny.”

He shakes his head. “I said yer wearin’ it, so yer wearin’ it.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she replies, a teasing smile on her lips.

His hand reaches for the necklace she’s wearing, holding the diamond-encrusted initials between his fingers. “Think ya know I am.”

She blushes, looking down at his fingers around the letters and squeezing her thighs together. He notices immediately and smirks, letting the necklace go and lightly slapping the side of her thigh.

“C’mon. Open the other one.”

Putting the first box to the side, she pulls the lid off the second one. A gold bikini. She should’ve known.

“Elvis it’s gorgeous, but…”

His hand, which had been resting on the outside of her thigh, shifts a little and gives her leg another firm slap.

“Uh-uh. No. Yer wearin’ it under that dress. No arguments.”

She looks up into his bright blue eyes as they stare back at her. He looks deadly serious, but she can’t help pushing him a little.

“I hope you’re going to be wearing something a bit nicer than this then.” She tugs at the sleeve of his tracksuit top.

“Oooh woman! Do not test me!” He’s laughing a little at first, as he grabs her and pushes her onto the sofa cushions, rolling himself on top and pinning her beneath him. But then his face changes to complete seriousness. “I will wear whatever I goddamn please, and you will wear whatever I tell ya.” Her heart thumps in her chest and blood rushes in her ears as she stares back at him.

The seriousness lasts for all of five seconds and then his mouth falls into that cute lopsided grin and his eyes shine with amusement. “I’m kiddin’, darlin’. But I think you’ll look damn good in that bikini and that dress. And I’ll wear somethin’ decent. Got my whole closet at home to choose from.”

She nods, her heart racing.

“You okay, baby?”

She blushes a deeper red and puts a hand over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mmmm.”

“So you’d like it if I told ya that ya had to wear those clothes? And I want yer nails painted to match?”

She nods, hand still over her eyes. “I kind of enjoyed the way you said it, too.” She bites her lip and cringes a little at her own words. He quite often played with being possessive in bed, telling her that her pussy belonged to him and he could have it whenever he wanted, but this was a bit different. This was something she didn’t know she liked.

Elvis smirks a little at how coy she’s being. He gently takes her hand off her face and gives her a reassuring kiss. Then he shifts so he can push her skirt up, briefly noticing her panties as he pushes them to the side and slides his fingers against her. She definitely had been enjoying it.

“You’re gonna wear what I tell you to,” he hisses, voice low and menacing in her ear. “No more arguments.”

His middle finger slides inside her, curling around and making her cry out. “Oh!”

“You’re gonna wear that goddamn dress tomorrow to the barbeque. I want you ta look good for me.”

His finger pumps in and out of her steadily. She whimpers.

“What’s ‘at?”

“Mmm. Yes. Yes I’m going to wear it.”

“Good girl.”

Tegan can hear her own breath coming out in little pants as she closes her eyes, feeling another finger pushing inside her alongside the first.

“I don’t like these panties.”

Her eyes spring open again and she looks at him, nervously. “S-sorry,” she mumbles, her head spinning, trying to remember which ones she put on this morning.

“Get rid of ‘em. I only want ya in matching sets.” His voice is low and even and his face is deadly serious, none of his usual smirking and joking and teasing. He’s enjoying himself though, watching the look on her face and feeling the way her body is reacting to him, her hips bucking into his hand.

She closes her eyes, half-afraid of his serious expression, half turned on by it. She feels his fingers gripping her cheeks and opens them again.

“You listenin’ ta me?” His tone is harsh and she nods quickly.

“Y-yes. I won’t wear them again, I’ll throw them away.”

“Yes, what?” He asks, then presses his lips to her ear. “I know ya wanna call me somethin’, baby,” he murmurs, in an entirely softer tone.

She’d nearly slipped up a couple of times when they were in bed together, responding “yes, d…Elvis…” and even murmuring “daddy” once, so quietly that he’d almost missed it. Her husband had been a little older, and she’d liked to call him that in bed sometimes. But she wasn’t sure how Elvis would feel about it, especially not after all of the stuff that had been written in the paper about their respective ages. So she’d tried to hold back, sticking to her Welsh pet names for him. But he’d obviously figured it out and now it seems like he wants her to say it.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers.

He growls, pushing her legs back and thrusting his fingers in and out of her harder and faster. She throws her head back and moans. He feels his dick hard in his pants at the same time as she is soaking wet and ready for him, and he doesn’t want to miss his opportunity. They’d fooled around a few more times since the disastrous attempt at Graceland, but she was never quite relaxed or turned on enough and he usually ended up losing his erection mid-way through.

He hurriedly pulls his sweatpants down along with his boxer shorts, sliding his fingers back out of her as he pumps himself a few times with one hand. Her senses are still reeling, and so she doesn’t realise what’s happening until he starts to push inside her, stretching her so much it hurts a little.

“Ow. Elvis!”

He looks up quickly, just about managing to pause what he’s doing and praying it doesn’t mean he’s about to lose his erection again.

“Rub your dick on me, get it wetter.” Tegan knows she’s not really supposed to be telling him what to do right now, but that feels closer to penetration than anything that they’d done before, and she knows he just needs a little more lube.

He grunts, pulling the tip back out of her and continuing his silent prayers about staying hard. Pulling her panties off and throwing them across the room, he pushes her legs back again and exposes her pussy, groaning at the way it’s glistening with her wetness. They both moan at the sensation of him rubbing himself against her, his foreskin moving back and forth on her puffy clit, desperate for stimulation.

He huffs out a loud breath.

“That’s enough,” he says, half to himself but also in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Yer mine and I wanna fuck you.”

She whines at his words and then at his dick pushing inside her, this time making it past the head, the whole shaft sliding inside until his balls rest against her skin. She’s whimpering at how full she feels, and he just stays there for a moment, as the two of them stare at one another in something like disbelief.

She props herself up on her elbows so she can look him right in the eye.

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

The sofa is not the easiest place to have sex, and his knees slip every so often as he starts to thrust in and out of her. He grabs hold of the back of it for balance and although it’s deep he starts to worry a bit about falling off. Eventually she flops onto her back and holds her arms out for him, so he lays on top of her, kissing her needily as his hips jut into hers and her legs wrap around his waist.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, between kisses.

“Mmm. Yes. Really good. You?”

He nods, breathlessly. “Damn good.” His eyes close in pleasure and he buries his face in her neck.

He starts to try and speed up his thrusts but the sofa cushions start sliding out, unbalancing both of them.

“Ah, fuck.”

He pauses and they look at one another, both a little sweaty, their foreheads pressed together.

“You think we can move to the bedroom?” She asks.

“Think we’ll have ta try.”

They kiss a little more and then Elvis gets up, slowly pulling out, going back to his silent prayers. They shed their clothes as quickly as they can on their way to the bedroom, until they’re both naked in the bed. Elvis looks down and sighs.

“Think that was one step too far fer the little guy.”

Tegan bursts out laughing. She finds Elvis’ tendency to talk about his dick like it’s its own person absolutely hilarious.

“Well you laughin’ at him won’t help any, honey.” He frowns.

“I’m laughing at you, not your dick.”

“Hmmm.” He tries to look annoyed but he can barely hold in his own amusement.

“Let’s see if we can, er, perk him up a bit,” she says, wrapping her hand around Little Elvis and starting to work him up and down. “Think he liked it when you were kinda bossy to me, earlier.”

“Mmm.” Elvis’ hand strokes her side. “I think he did too.” He thinks for a moment. She’s naked now, so he can’t really say things about her clothes anymore, and he’s done her outfit for tomorrow. He always liked his girls to have nice hair and nails in the past though, and keep them done for him. Maybe that would work.

“Don’t think yer keepin’ yerself lookin’ good enough fer me, are ya?” He begins.

Her eyes go wide, wondering what he means. “I-I don’t know. I try to look nice…” she trails off, a little unsure.

He puts his hand in her hair and pulls it a little. “I want you in the salon every week so yer hair’s lookin’ real pretty for me at the weekend.”

She nods, rushing out a quick, “yes, Daddy,” when he looks stern. She feels him start to get harder in her hand again and pumps a little faster.

“An’ no chips in yer nails,” he continues. “Can’t have ya goin’ round, lookin’ a mess.”

She can hear herself whimpering again, knowing his words are making her wet even as she worries a little that he does think she’s a mess and she’s not really pretty enough to be on his arm.

His erection is back so he pulls her hand off his dick, knocking her onto her back and pushing her legs up. Continuing to grip her hand in his, he holds it up so he can examine her fingernails. He shakes his head, giving a low whistle and letting her hand drop back down onto the bed.

“Ya better get those fixed fer tomorrow.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside her again, this time in one movement, making her groan and her eyes roll back in her head.

“Ya hear me, little girl?”

She nods quickly. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll get them fixed. Ohhhh.”

He starts to move and now he’s on a mattress and not a sofa he goes hard and fast straight away. Holding onto her thigh with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other he pounds into her. Watching as her breasts bounce with every thrust and loving the feeling of her pussy hugging him tightly, he tries to pay attention to her movements, her breathing, her little tells. Wanting to know when she’s close.

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” He asks, panting, feeling his own release starting to build as he sees her hands grasping at the bedding and balling into fists.

“Yours, Daddy,” she moans back.

“Good girl. Cum for Daddy.”

His thumb rubs her clit more firmly as he carries on his assault on her pussy, his orgasm right at the base of his dick now. As she arches her back she feels him hit somewhere inside her that makes her want to scream, and the combination of that and the way he’s touching her with his thumb is finally enough to trigger waves of pleasure washing over her as she cums. Feeling herself let go completely, the noises that fall from her mouth may as well be screams as her walls squeeze and squeeze and tip Elvis over the edge too, making him cum hard and deep inside her. He cries out in ecstasy, falling on top of her, and the two of them lie there together, dizzy with pleasure.

When he finally feels like he can move again, he rolls off her and pulls her into his arms. She puts an arm and a leg around him too, cuddling up close.

“That was incredible. Baby, we did it!”

She buries her face in his chest. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbles into his skin.

“Ya had a good time?” He asks, suddenly worried that her response isn’t quite as enthusiastic as he was expecting.

“Mmm. Yeah, it was amazing.”

He strokes her back. “But?”

There’s a long pause, where she tries to work out what to say, how to phrase it so she doesn’t sound silly. Eventually she just looks up, shyly, and says, “do you think I look a mess?”

Elvis blinks, wondering why she’s asking, and then realises what he’d said to her earlier.

“Oh, no, honey. I think ya look beautiful, all the time,” he tells her, his hand on her face. “But I do kinda wanna show ya off…” he pauses, looking for her reaction. “I mean, I want people ta be blown away by ya.”

“Hmmmm.” She nibbles on her lower lip and digs her fingers into his chest hair. “So you meant what you said?”

He frowns. She’d definitely said she wanted him to talk like that to her, and now she seemed to be going back on it. “I’d never force ya ta do anythin’ ya didn’t want, honey. You don’t wanna wear that dress tomorrow, that’s up ta you. I was only playin’ coz ya said ya liked it. I don’t wanna upset ya.”

Tegan leans her head back down on his chest and sighs. She doesn’t know what she wants. She definitely enjoyed herself in the heat of the moment but now she’s scared again that he’s pretending she’s pretty.

“What’s a matter, honey?” Elvis’ voice is low and gentle, and he accompanies the question with patterns traced on her back by his fingertips.

She lets out a long breath that she didn’t realise she’d been holding in.

“You could be with someone much prettier than me. And… and now especially after…” she swallows and tries to collect herself and not cry. “...you… you’re going to find someone else.” Her shoulders shake and she finds herself crying anyway, the intensity of her orgasm and the feeling of closeness she’d shared with Elvis making her suddenly feel vulnerable and afraid.

Elvis’ eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Hang on a minute…” he tips her face back up towards him and sees it streaked with tears. “What makes ya think I want anyone else? Ya think I’m gonna do yer laundry, cook yer dinners and mop yer kitchen floor and then go find someone else? Why would I do that?”

Tegan wipes her face a little. “Well let’s be honest now, you didn’t really successfully make much dinner.”

He pulls her up his body so that their foreheads are pressed together again. “I’ve never even tried ta make a woman dinner before you.”

She looks at him for a moment and then starts to cry again.

“Oh baby,” he wraps both arms around her, holding her close. “What’s wrong?”

“Think you only wanted me because I didn’t care about your dick. And now we’ve had sex you’re just going to leave.”

She tries to roll off him again in embarrassment, but he holds onto her tightly, one hand on the back of her head and the other splayed across her back.

“Tegan bach,” he begins, firmly. “I wanted you before I knew ya didn’t care about it, and after I knew, and I still want ya now, more than ever. It’s not like ya magically fixed me and now I’m on my way to fuck a bunch of supermodels. We’ve got somethin’ special here. Don’tcha think?”

“Y-yes. That’s why I’m a-afraid to l-lose it,” she sniffs.

He kisses her gently on the mouth. “I’m sorry I ran away from ya so many times before, an’ fucked this up so many times, an’ ya had to wait fer me ta grow up and realise what I’ve got here. But I’m not goin’ anywhere now. I promise.”

She sniffs again and nods, although she’s still afraid.

“Let’s dry these tears on this pretty little face, hm? See if ya can gimme a smile.” She moves so he can wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. He kisses the end of her nose, making her smile slightly.

“I went ta the store earlier,” he pauses for a minute to reflect and then changes his sentence. “Well, that’s not exactly true. Mary went ta the store fer me, an’ I asked her ta get ingredients for cottage pie.”

“Oh did you?” Tegan is smiling a little more now. “And what are you planning on doing with those then?”

“I was plannin’ on makin’ my Queenie dinner.”

“Well that sounds nice.”

She can almost see him thinking, like he desperately wants to ask her to help him, so it doesn’t end up burnt with lumpy mash, but he also really wants to save face. She decides to put him out of his misery.

“Do you want a glamorous assistant?”

He breathes a sigh of relief at her suggestion. “Fuck yes.”

They both giggle together again and Elvis looks at her lovingly. How she could think he’d want anyone else is beyond him, but he thinks he’ll have to keep showing her how much she means to him. He sits up and looks around for his clothes. The first step of that is making her an edible dinner.

***

Part 8

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