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#again i am aware that i am being pretentious

yumistr · 5 months

Text

( ﾒ𝟶. ) 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐄 : JJK UNIVERZE ◞ M.LIST

❥ : pairing. racer!gojo satoru x mechanic!fem!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄. ❞

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𐙚

❥ : synopsis. after winning yet another glorious victory against the other members on the track, satoru takes home two prizes; you, and the fat ass wad of cash he scored as well. though, that doesn’t stop you two from getting tailed by the police before ending your night by putting on a show for downtown Shibuya.

❥ : content. pwp. nsfw. criminal activity. car chase. drug mentions. intoxication influence. piv. handjob. car sεx. public sεx. overstimulation. profound love. ⟡ : wc. 1.7k.

❥ : juni’s jar. had a different draft in mind for the start of this series, but oh whale. also, fyi, there’s a slight age gap. reader is 21 & gojo (++ the others) are 25. it’s not much, but i just wanted to put a disclaimer. σ(￣、￣〃)

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ

“just like that, princess~, s’good.”

ACT ONE⠀|⠀1:06 AM

ᡴꪫ⠀𝓝ights with your boyfriend, the infamous Satoru “Speeddemon” Gojo, were an entire whirl wind of their own. there was no telling whether or not you’d end up propped atop his shoulders with the entirety of his team cheering both of you on for yet another one of his victories he scored in his pretentious Nissan Skyline GT-R R34. or, being high off your ass from hitting multiple blunts on Shoko’s tits that you could barely configure where you even were to begin with. and, in this case, you were caught in both scenarios.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀though, at first, your night started off like any other ordinary college students. you were propped up on your bed; laid on your stomach, with your lecture books all open scattered around you, your mind entirely focused on finishing the past due assignments you had. thanks to the fresh blunt you’d taken a few hits from prior, courtesy of the woman herself (Shoko).

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀her and the guys weren’t in college like you, they were a bit older. you being twenty-one, and them all being twenty-five. but they knew the struggles of studying ‘til one am just to barely pass the upcoming test. so, she offered you something to let off steam while you were being the diligently hard working student you were.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you’d been mid-reading when a box shot through your peeked open window, startling you near death all the while a slight yelp hurdled from your once sealed plump lips. a few chuckles from outside your window were followed by your actions, your body absentmindedly pushing yourself off the mattress to go see what exactly was thrown into your room. when you observed it, a snarky eye roll was seen dancing it’s way across your face prior to tossing the box onto your bed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you swore it was the frat boys attempting to mess with you again, much like they’ve been doing since forever, but the minute your eyes laid upon the familiar thin-laced piece of blue lingerie you were eyeballing while out with Satoru, you knew damn well who was laughing outside your third story window.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"fucking asshole! don’t scare me like that!" you whisper-yelled at your lover, a wink and kissy face being sent your way as he had an arm wrapped around Suguru’s shoulders; the one person who’d genuinely be your only competition for Satoru’s love.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"m’sorry, baby, just wanted to surprise you," a lighthearted chuckle seethed into his words, earning yet another eye roll from yours truly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the skimpy little pink blouse you wore as pajamas briskly blew with the wind that pierced through your window, Satoru narrowing his eyes at you to get back inside before Suguru saw something that was solely reserved for him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a leering grin shaped Suguru at the sight, you laughing at how it didn’t even take a second before Satoru took notice and burried his fist into Suguru’s chest. the man was well aware of the fact Suguru had absolutely no chance with you, you both saw one another as siblings. but that didn’t stop you from enjoying how protective Satoru was and fucking with him about it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀regardless, Suguru had a woman of his own that he’d destroy the world for, anyways. he had no interest in meddling with his best friends profound love for you when his dearest Yasmin awaited his arrival at the lot.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"get dressed, we got a D-R"

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"and what makes you think i’d wanna go?" you protested out of spite, knowing damn well you loved street races just as much as he did. maybe even more.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a deadpan stare was shot your way from Satoru, the man tilting his head at your persistence all the while Suguru stood idly; chuckles sounding their way into your altercation.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"don’t make me drag your ass to my car" he bickered, Suguru, much like always, entertained by your arguments.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀"ay dío- cálmate, maldito culo." ( oh my- calm down you fucking ass. )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀just to piss him off, you wore your cutest skin-tight outfit that flaunted each and every beautiful curve you had to offer. it was your signature style. the look that had Satoru turning in your direction in the first place. him, plus everyone else in the lot, including Shoko herself. but, that was a whole different story to unfold.

⠀

SHE’S BLOODY, SHE’S SWEET,

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𐚁֙

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SHE’S STRAWBABY JAM !

⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀your nights were always some form of a blur any time you accompanied Satoru at the lot. they seemingly consisted of being surrounded by Shoko and taking shots with her friends, joining Aoi and the other freshman at your school in a hot box session before alas finding yourself perkily propped along Satoru’s shoulders whilst he’s praised and cheered for winning yet another D-Race. it was bound to happen. he’s never lost a single competition. at least, not while you’ve been dating him. only people who’re even close to being on-par with him are Shoko and Suguru, yet they’ve never been able to beat him. only close enough.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and, much like every other eventful night with the man, he takes you home around three am. you can’t help but lay your head against the door, engulfed in the suffocating wind that blows past every fiber on your body. the intoxicating odor that’s melted into the breezes doesn’t help your semi-empty stomach either, the stench of fresh barbecue being roasted in the night markets you’re zipping by.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Satoru’s hand rests tediously along your exposed thigh, pinky pushing its limits and vaguely rubbing the thin layer of skin that resides beneath the brim of your shorts.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀however, this time around, the night officers were on-watch even more cautiously that before. they thought they’d be able to tail down the one man who had every department in the continent in shambles. they had balls, you had to give them that. it was humorous seeing them barely being able to keep up with Satoru meandering between lanes. you couldn’t help but let out a few slurred giggles, your noises being music to the man’s ears as he sped up his chase and started drifting corners to get away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you adored fast cars and Satoru knew that all too well. he always jumped at the opportunity to drive fast, so when he heard your murmured noises, he didn’t hesitate not one second to shoot from 100 to 180k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀the adrenaline rush you got from the small chase alone would kill a victorian child, but the actions that followed after you lost them in a crowd would massacre an entire bloodline.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Satoru had you sprawled out along the hood of his precious beauty, upper body hunched over to meet your face all the while you two ravaged each others mouths. sparks shot from the top layer of your lips, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the erotic tension that surged the air around you, or the mixture of drugs and alcohol that ran miles through your bloodstream.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀either way, you could care less because it made everything so much hotter. especially with how puttered stammers of whines extruded Satoru’s lips with each pump you dragged along the girth of his base. your savage and hunger-filled kisses were matched with slow and leisured strokes edging his pulsating erection. you couldn’t lie, his pathetic noises had every hair on your body standing like pin needles. you wanted more. you needed more. you craved to have him buried so deep in you that he’d get lost in undoubted rapture.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀so that’s exactly what he did.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he filled you up oh-so perfectly. like you were hand crafted by the gods just to be his cocksleeve. his own personal fleshlight that he could mold into the shape of his dick with every thrust. and you’d gladly let him do as he pleased. you wanted him just as much as he needed you. you loved being stuffed with his dick, like a pig at a carne asada on a breezy summer day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀you adored how he handled you with such care through his hands, fingertips breaking skin along your plump thighs all the while he abused your greedy cunt relentlessly. the only thing you could possibly do was interlock your slender fingers in his luscious curls, pleas and cries of mercy sputtering through every other hiccup that choked through. Satoru matched them with tender pecks along your jawline, fingers raking the delicate skin on his shoulder blades every time his hips kissed your own.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀missionary wasn’t typically your cup of tea, but whenever he spread your legs open so perfectly just so he had access to fuck you balls deep, your mind was too much of a mushed mess to protest otherwise. all you could do was obediently take all of it whilst your hazed eyes stared up at the starry-night sky that decorated the view above.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it never mattered how many rounds you went, Satoru wasn’t going to stop until you uttered the safe word you two had come up with. you could paint his dick an entire new shade of white, and he’d still meet your hips with his own to shove the juices back into your overwhelmed walls. he could go all day if he had the chance, just as long as you were in undeniable pleasure, he didn’t care. his end of the deal was how you whimpered his name so tenderly, so lovingly, it drove him mad. he wanted you to repeat it every time he rutted into you. if he could he’d fuck you senseless so that the only word you’d be able to utter was his name and his name alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he’d do anything to show you how much he need you like he needed oxygen. whether it be overwhelm your entire being with such pleasure that all you could possibly think about was how his thick erection dragged along your delicious walls, or spoil you in the finest materialistic items that you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “fuck~ you’re so damn perfect, love.”

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𑄽𑄺ྀ

#┆ഒ ָ࣪ ˖ 𝒶𝓂ℴ𝓇 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫 ❜#xoxo — golden trackz #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #anime smut #female reader

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 11 months

Text

With All That I Am

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 7 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series

Warnings: Hospitals, injury recovery, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), angst, hurt/comfort.

SIX MONTHS AGO

There's something about Dominic Saintclair that Billy had never liked.

He could never put his finger on it. Maybe it was the pretentiousness of his actions, the way he looked like he'd never had a hard day in his life, the lackadaisical way he treated things as if they were replaceable.

The way he didn't understand that the most valuable thing he had, was the one thing he was mistreating right now.

"I swear, she doesn't know when to leave me alone." Dominic says loudly in the opulent bar, a place that was more red velvet seats and accented gold ornaments than anything else. It was somewhere Billy brought the clients he could impress easily, ones that didn't understand what the best brand of gin for a negroni was, or that whiskey shouldn't be served with ice. It was simply a place that glittered, gorgeous on the surface with no real substance... or character... not unlike the man in question.

Billy looks down at Dominic's cloned phone. All you had said was that you hoped he was having fun.

"Maybe you're just not fucking her enough." One of his friends joke.

"Oh fuck off. I fuck her more than enough, maybe that's why she's so needy." It gets a round of laughter from his friends, and a disgusted frown from Billy.

At the bar, only a few tables away, Billy's hand tightens on his glass of whiskey, his back is to the group, and he's positioned in a dark enough corner to be unnoticed while still being able to hear the conversation.

"Anyways, enough about that, finish telling me about the red head." Dominic says, and Billy is forced to listen to him talk about other women when he has the best one.

Billy thinks about how stupidly simple it would be to kill your boyfriend, but doing it now would create more problems. You wouldn't know how much of an asshole he really was, for starters, you'd probably convince yourself that you'd been deeply in love with him before his untimely death. People tended to put dead loved ones on a pedestal, forgiving them unless their crimes were truly heinous.

No, you had to see Dominic for his true colours first. Then, and only then, he would wipe your stain of a boyfriend from the earth.

Billy listens to Dominic say some more vile things, fully understanding his hatred for the man now. Dominic was manipulative, showing you one face, and yet secretly thinking something else behind your back. With a frown, he scrolls through your older messages.

You always seemed to be reaching for him, supportive of the things he said. He never voiced his support for you in return.

What a fucking waste of space. To have someone as precious as you, and to take you for granted.

If he had you... he'd worship you. Without a doubt, Billy would kiss every inch of your skin, kneel at your feet if you asked, kiss you at every waking moment.

When another text comes in from you, he smiles.

As predicted, you text a second time after you've seen his read receipts and no response has come in from your idiot boyfriend.

'Are you alright?' You text.

The corner of Billy's mouth lifts, he wishes you were sending texts like this to him.

Dominic responds.

'Yes. I'm fine. Stop bothering me.'

Billy's smile drops.

You don't respond, but you see the message. He knows that you're hurt by it.

Billy's thoughts go violent again.

Anonymously, Billy has bought round after round of shots for the men, until they're wasted, and their lips are loose and he can soak in all the information possible. He plots while he listens, and he learns so much, until he could pick apart any man there in his sleep.

Their numbers dwindle, until it's just two men there, and he waits patiently for Dominic to stand on inebriated feet and head off to the bathroom.

Billy knows that Dominic is barely functional right now, having taken shot after shot, Billy is aware that Dominic will not remember any bit of whatever is happening right now.

With that information, he texts Dominic's companion from the cloned phone.

'Feeling better now, ordered an Uber, you can go ahead without me.'

Billy watches his friend read the text, finish his drink and then leave.

Too easy.

Dominic is so far gone that when he returns to his seat, he barely notices that his friend's things are gone, and Billy acts fast to stop Dominic from realising that anything is amiss.

"Saintclair." Billy greets, whiskey in hand, looking around to make sure that no one is looking, "Drinking all by yourself?"

Dominic looks up at Billy and squints.

"Mister Russo?"

Billy hums the affirmative.

"Got room for company?" The words are bitter in his mouth.

Billy doesn't wait for an answer, pushing the inebriated man deeper into the booth and sliding into the space next to him. He hates this place, literally just designed for showing off, he glances at Dominic, who's lost in his own head, staring at his drink.

Nothing this man was thinking could ever be worth your time.

He raises his hand to the bartender, calling for another round of shots.

Dominic only has time to adjust his body, from his slumped, hazy demeanour, to appear like someone with all their critical thinking skills functional.

Billy spikes the drink with a little bit of melatonin, it's more than enough at Dominic's current level of intoxication.

"Wasn't drinking by myself, but the rest of guys have already left." Dominic slurs, and Billy raises his eyebrows, extending the spiked shot to the already drunk man.

He gives Dominic the opportunity to decline the shot, doesn't force it into his hands, just holds it out expectantly and watches the younger man choose his own self-destruction.

He kind of delights in it, the anarchy he's capable of. Each person has a role to play and it's always nice when they do it as expected.

Dominic throws back the shot with him and internally, Billy begins his internal stopwatch.

"I hope the job's treating you well." Billy hums, uncaring of what the man next to him has to say. He just has to make small talk for fifteen minutes, before the drug kicks in.

Billy asks about some of his coworkers, and then his phone pings, alerting him to a message.

"Clingy." Is all Dominic has to say, looking at his phone when Billy inquires casually.

His eyebrows raise, watching his employee yawn, the drug beginning to take effect.

"If you don't like her that much, then why are you with her?" Billy asks, trying to keep the anger out of his tone.

"Why not?" Is the last thing Dominic says before he slumps over onto the table, asleep.

Billy blinks, an angry sneer growing on his face. What a careless piece of shit. He reaches for Dominic's phone, unlocks it and opens your messages the way he's done a hundred times before.

'At least tell me you're okay.' You'd texted.

"Prick." Billy swears, typing out a message to you on Dominic's phone.

'I'm alright sweetness, just getting ready to go home.' After a moment, he sends another message.

'I'm sorry about that last message, you don't bother me.'

He finds himself smiling when your text bubbles appear almost immediately.

'That's alright! I understand that you probably just wanted some time with your friends.' You say.

You were so quick to forgive, it made Billy's heart sour with the thought that Dominic didn't deserve your forgiveness.

'How was your night?' He asks, smiling fondly when he gets a picture of you wearing a fluffy robe and face mask.

'Very pretty, baby.' He replies, which earns a little '😳' face in response.

How sweet you were, saccharine and sticky, Billy could find himself eating you up quite easily.

'I mean it. I think you're fucking gorgeous.'

It takes a moment to get your response.

'How much have you had to drink exactly?'

Billy grits his teeth, looking over at the unconscious fuck. He barely ever tells you how pretty you are. It's why you think he's drunk now.

'A bit, but that doesn't make it any less true. You are beautiful.'

You don't respond immediately, Billy spends five minutes refreshing Dominic's phone until he gets a very shy 'Thank you,' in response.

He smiles, pockets Dominic's phone.

"Time to get you home, Saintclair." He says to the unconscious man.

He gets someone from the bar to help him get Dominic into the back seat of his car, uncaring of how he's placed, thanking the larger man with a hefty tip before getting into his car.

'You didn't tell me what you did today.' He sends before driving off.

He hears several different message notifications while he drives, and he can't help smiling, because for once, you were finally talking to him, and not as a stranger, but as someone familiar.

It was much harder to get Dominic to his apartment due to the lack of help he'd had from earlier, yet Billy made do with tossing the unconscious man over his shoulder, and then putting him down when they were in the elevator.

Billy really could have left Dominic anywhere, at the bar, or at the front steps to his apartment, or even at the door, with his keys in hand to have him wake up there in the morning horrified that he was so drunk he couldn't even make it inside.

But Billy drops Dominic on his bed instead, after accidentally bumping his head on a few door frames, he decides that he'd keep the drunk asshole safe this time...for you.

After, Billy sits in Dominic's living room, and opens up his phone once more.

'Okay, this doesn't mean anything but I went to a jewellery store today. I was looking at earrings and then I couldn't help looking at the engagement rings.'

Oh? Billy thinks.

'They were all shiny and even though I like shiny, they didn't feel like me you know? I feel like if we ever... uhhhh.... you know.... get married, I'd want something more unique you know?'

'Hello? Are you there? Did I scare you off? This isn't me asking for a wedding, I'm just saying.'

'Dominic?'

Billy sucks in a breath.

'I'm here, sorry, just got home.' he replies, tries to ignore the pain inside of him that worsens with the thought of you getting married to anyone other than him.

'Oh... Hi' you respond.

Billy smiles.

'Hi, do you have any ideas of what you think might be for you?'

He can almost see your excitement.

'Are you sure? If this is weird, you can say so.'

How cute, the way you care.

'I'd really like to see them.' He answers.

You send a link, and indeed, they're beautiful and unique and Billy can't help the thoughts of wearing it, and having you wear the other.

'These are the ones I've always dreamed of.' you add on with the attached pictures.

He bites down on his bottom lip, closes his eyes, and imagines how perfect your hands would look linked together, decorated with matching rings. The thought makes him hard.

'They have to be custom ordered though, really expensive, I'm sure we can find something cheaper.'

Absolutely not.

'They're beautiful. Tell me your ring size so that I can surprise you.'

He makes note of it when you send it.

'I can't wait to marry you.' He says.

'Well now I know you really are drunk.' You respond.

Billy has a quick moment of realisation when he remembers that you think you're talking to Dominic.

His smile drops.

'I am drunk. But you're still the most amazing person on the planet. I think you might be it for me.' And Billy means it. He means every word. He plans to marry this sweet girl that waltzed her way into his life and believed in him after two conversations.

'I love you.' Comes your reply.

Billy smiles.

'I love you too.'

He stays with you until you fall asleep, telling you all the sweet things he's ever wanted to say, dodging personal topics that he doesn't know the answers to. When you're finally asleep, he stands, checks the time, and goes back to Dominic's room, dropping his phone onto the bed beside his sleeping form.

Billy almost considers hitting him, enjoying the thought of giving him a black eye in the morning, but that had the possibility of scaring him into not drinking again, and Billy couldn't have that.

So he leaves, walks out of your boyfriend's apartment, and does not set it on fire like he wants to.

NOW

You stare calmly at the elevator doors. The smell of hospital filling the air around you. In a way, there was an ease to it, a comfort in the sterile cleanliness, a place designed to turn chaos into order.

You sip on your coffee, feeling refreshed after popping back home for a quick shower and supplies for Billy. You didn't want to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be able to stay while the nurses changed his bandages, the wound too fresh to introduce any foreign bacteria. So you'd decided to make yourself useful in the meantime.

Frank was still here somewhere, waiting for you to return so that he could leave. You'd both had tentatively agreed that Billy should not be left alone under any circumstance, surprised that you and his best friend had been on a similar wavelength when it came to caring for him.

Frank's in the waiting room taking a call when you see him. He gives you a little nod, and a gesture of his head that tells you it's okay to go see him.

You do exactly that, making your way to the nurses' station to sign in before heading to his room.

You stop short when at the door, you hear the sound of female laughter.

It's not laughter exactly, it's... giggling.

It's obviously flirtatious, in that pitch that's just too high to be normal.

You hear Billy's voice next, too far away to make out what he's saying but he sounds polite.

Followed by more giggling.

Pure jealousy rears its head.

You had only been gone for an hour and someone had taken the opportunity to begin flirting with your husband?

Something dark blooms inside you, and you take a deep breath, and walk through the doors with your head high.

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at you.

"I'm back." You say calmly, smiling.

Billy smiles at you, his hair askew in every direction as if he hasn't ever heard of a brush. It's adorable, makes him look so much more boyish than usual. Your eyes go to the young nurse, that's currently taking Billy's blood pressure, quietly sizing her up, deciding if she was worth any sort of trouble at all.

"Hey baby, did you get one of those for me?" He asks, referring to the cappuccino in your hands.

You look down at him, close enough to see the tiredness under his eyes although you know this is the most amount of sleep he's ever gotten.

"Sorry, doctor said no." You respond.

Billy lets out a pained groan, and you can't help it, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his temple.

He sighs, reaching up to take your hand in his, you watch his eyes linger on your wedding ring.

"I was just explaining to Becca here how easy it was to ignore the pain for so long."

Becca?

Your eyebrows raise in amused displeasure.

"Yeah," she adds in with a wistful smile, "If he didn't pass out from the pain he probably wouldn't have gotten help in time."

Great, a reminder that you weren't there when he'd almost died. You're pretty sure that the only expression you show her is one of disdain.

'Careful,' you think maliciously in her direction, 'If he likes you enough he'll cage you like a bird.'

"How are his vitals?" You ask blankly, trying to get her out of here as soon as possible, ignoring the way Billy looks up at you in confusion at your clipped tone.

"They're uh, they're good! But-" She begins to say, but stops short and presses the back of her hand to Billy's forehead. You blink, clenching your teeth together. You're pretty sure this wasn't medically professional, and you suck in a slow breath to stop yourself from smacking her hand away from your husband.

"Are you feeling okay Bil- Mister Russo? Your heart rate is a bit high." she continues.

You glance up at her monitor in question, and sure enough the little number on screen next to the pulsing heart symbol was just a little above one hundred.

You knew that his heart shouldn't be going at near a hundred beats per minute if he was mostly stationary in bed.

Billy lets out a nervous laugh. You look down at him in confusion.

"Yean, that's- I'm fine- It's just... well... her." He explains, glancing up at you for a second.

Me? You think incredulously, blinking.

His heart is beating fast because you were near him?

Your anger dissolves as fast as it had appeared, stomach fluttering, you try to fight the smile pulling at your face but you inevitably fail.

He doesn't look up at you, so you grip his jaw, tilting his head up.

Absentmindedly, you're aware of the nurse excusing herself from the room.

You press your lips to his swiftly, delight spreading down your body when he groans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss and he accepts it eagerly.

After a moment, you pause, turning your head to look at the little monitor, His heart rate having gone up to one hundred and twenty.

"Still jealous?" he asks, with a cheeky smile.

You don't answer, leaning in to kiss him softly once more.

"Please." Billy begs.

"No." You whisper, bumping your nose against his, adjusting your body under the sheets so that you're both fully covered.

"Just a little bit." He tries to bargain.

"You move, and I'll stop. You cum, and I'll stop."

He lets out a harsh breath.

"You're being really mean to me." He pouts.

"If you rip a stitch, I won't touch you until they come out."

He groans, frustrated.

Unable to resist, you clench around his cock.

"That's not fair." he gasps desperately.

"Sorry, this isn't entirely easy for me either."

Currently, you were both under his sheets, on your back, both legs draped over his hip, while he lies on his left side facing you. It was a position that had made it very easy for him to slip himself inside of you, allowing you to keep his cock warm.

He swallows, looking at you with warm eyes.

"You feel so good around me. You know that?"

How was he allowed to say things like that while literally stretching you open? God, you could feel the tip of his cock nestled snugly in the very deepest parts of you, every inch of your cunt sighing in relief at finally being so full of him.

You feel yourself get smaller under his gaze, soft, gentle, unnameable in its unfamiliarity.

"If it feels half as good as it does for me, then yeah, I know." you reply easily.

He smiles, it causes butterflies to flutter in gentle circles within you.

"You're beautiful." he murmurs softly.

It's your turn to swallow and look away.

Your eyes are drawn to his bare chest, and the snake tattoo that resides on his shoulder. He could not be real with the way he made you feel, like all the air in the room had simply vanished by his command, held even further out of reach by the thickness of his cock sitting still inside you.

"You really mean that?" You ask, your insecurity gaining a foothold in your head.

He reaches for your left hand, raises it up to his face so that he can lay a swift kiss onto your wedding ring.

"I do."

The door swinging open has your eyes widening from your shared spot under the sheets. Thankfully, you were still mostly clothed, where Billy was fully naked.

"Bill?" comes Frank's voice in question from his spot by the door.

Billy winks at you, before moving the sheet off your top halves to reveal you both to the open air.

"Hey Frank." Billy greets.

Frank takes one look at your positions and lets out a tired sigh.

"You two are fucking, aren't you?" The exasperated sound of his voice drawing a smile from you.

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, giving everything away.

Frank's disappointed expression makes Billy laugh too.

"Alright. I'm walking out this door, I'll be back in five minutes, your pants better be on, Russo."

"Make it ten!" Billy shouts just as Frank gives another disappointed shake of his head, and leaves the room.

Clothed now, in long blue linen pants, Billy kisses your temple, one arm wrapped securely around you as you lie beside him.

"Thanks for being here with me." He says softly, his hands gripping onto any available part of you he could reach, anything to pull you closer to him.

"What? Is Frank not good enough company?" You tease, beginning to laugh when you feel the scratch of his beard as he kisses your throat.

"Frank is usually in the bed beside me." he says into your neck, and you laugh at the imagery.

"Plus," he says in a softer, more serious tone as he pulls away for a moment. You turn to look at him curiously.

"I've never had someone worry about me the way you do."

"Ever?" You ask.

He shakes his head, looks down.

You're not sure what he's thinking, but it looks like guilt, all soft lines and sadness and you ache to make him feel better.

You lean forward, cupping his jaw. His eyes are so open for you that you think you can see his soul in them- a dark web of shadows, that glitters with vulnerability the more you look.

You wanted his vulnerability, you wanted him to open himself up to you, and share everything he was, everything he could be, until you were full of him.

Until you could taste him in your mouth, even when he wasn't around.

"I'm here now, and I'll worry. I'll fight anyone that stops me from getting to you. Including Frank Castle." You promise.

His frown grows into a smile.

"You're sure you don't wanna ride me? I'll stay really still."

You groan.

"No, no vigorous activity for at least four weeks."

"You riding me isn't vigorous."

"Yes, but I'd consider your orgasms vigorous." You reply, contemplating the way the muscles of his abdomen tended to tighten up when he came.

"Wait," Billy says in horror, "I can't come for four weeks?"

"You'll be fine." You huff.

"No I won't be." He protests.

"Just let me take care of you."

He couldn't argue with that.

"You hate me don't you?" Billy asks.

You try not to grin.

You turn to face him, clad in only your plainest underwear as you get ready for work. Somehow, he still saw beauty in you, even when you weren't trying. It was exhilarating.

Unfortunately you couldn't stay with him, a meeting had been scheduled that you didn't want to push back due to the difficulty in actually getting the meeting in the first place.

"Why? Is there something wrong with it?" You ask, turning playfully to show him the back and the front.

"Everything's fucking wrong with it," Billy grumbles from his spot in bed, head tilting back for a second in what looks like a plea to God himself.

"When I get these stitches out, you're gonna be in so much trouble." he says with a little grunt.

You hum, in thought.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I'll wear underwear today." You taunt.

Billy groans loudly.

Something delightful blooms within you.

Wrong.

This was supposed to be wrong.

The more you think that, the more you know that this is the most right feeling in the world.

There was nothing in your old life that could ever possibly compare to him.

Usually, people coerced into marriage were subjected to inhumane treatment, impossible and abusive environments, that sucked the very living soul out of them.

The most soul sucking being done to you was when you'd been forced to deny Billy the pleasure of tasting you last night.

The pleasure of tasting you... because to him... it really was a pleasure.

You swallow, sitting at his desk, tense in his comfortable chair. You'd become someone he'd wanted.

Or maybe you'd always been. When had he decided to marry you anyways?

You blink, shock spearing through you.

What if your feelings weren't real? But simply a defence response to your circumstances.

A tired sigh leaving your lips. A shake of your head.

Would you want him if you weren't trapped by him?

The question eats away at your sanity. You spin it around and around in your head and still you can't find an answer.

You're scared by it. By the notion of losing him.

You're also scared by the idea of staying with him, still not fully understanding what he was capable of.

Which fear was right?

And which one would break your heart?

Billy says your name in question when he hears a door slam shut.

"Just me, Bill." Is Frank's answering voice.

"Where is she?" He murmurs, throat dry, looking up at the ceiling. The pain meds held him in a state of mild confusion, spaced out so that he wasn't in any pain, but unable to truly focus on the things happening around him.

He hears the slow pour of water, peeks an eye open to find Frank beside him. He struggles to sit up, tucking a second and then third pillow behind him for support and gratefully accepting the glass of water from Frank.

"It's only two, her meeting just started so you'll see her a little later."

Billy nods, ignoring Frank's gaze as he sips the water.

"I've never seen you so down bad before."

Billy's laugh bubbles in the glass he's holding.

"What can I say? I'm a romantic." He answers flippantly.

Frank snorts loudly in knowing disbelief. Billy frowns.

"You don't think it's fast? Is she... does she have something on you?"

Anger spears itself through Billy, some at Frank, most at himself.

I'm a monster, he thinks.

He turns away, not wanting Frank to read the expression on his face, wondering if his look of guilt alone will put the pieces together in Frank's head.

"It's not like that." He says easily, thinking to himself what a sick fuck he must be to coerce someone so glorious, so awe-inspiring, into marriage against her will.

He thinks he hates himself for it.

"She told me you got accidentally married. I can't imagine a version of you, however drunk, that would accept marriage."

Frank was getting too close. Billy had to say something to appease him.

"I'd met her before, at... a company party or two. I liked her, but she had a boyfriend."

When Billy doesn't continue, Frank is forced to prompt.

"And?"

Billy stares down at the sheets. The very sheets you'd slept under last night.

"And when I met her in Vegas, they'd just broken up, and I wanted something with her, and I don't remember how, but the next day I woke up married to her and I was so happy."

It's mostly the truth, the best tale he can spin in his state.

"I know it doesn't make sense, Frankie, but when I'm with her... I'm the man I've always wanted to be."

Frank is quiet for too long now, and Billy is forced to turn his head and look up at his best friend curiously.

Both men stare at each other in silence for a moment.

"Alright, okay, I'm sold, bring her around to meet Maria and the kids." Frank says finally.

If anything, this was Frank Castle's ultimate seal of approval. Introducing strangers to his family was not an occasion to be taken lightly.

Billy grins up at Frank.

"I can't believe I had to lose my appendix to get her invited to a Castle family dinner. You're so gullible, Frank." Billy teases.

He's rewarded with a gentle smack to his shoulder.

You run your hands over the fabric of your dress, deep in thought.

Was it too much? You think you might be overdressed.

It was a lovely beige colour, maybe tan, knee length with a vintage design and little puff sleeves. You'd liked how it looked in the store. Now? You honestly felt like it was a little much.

Maybe Billy would be able to help you decide.

You call his name, walking out of your shared closet and toward the living room where you saw him last.

You spin the corner and find him already coming toward you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, dressed casually in a grey shirt and black pants.

You stumble over your words, your brain spinning too fast for you to keep up.

"W- yeah- I was coming to ask your opinion, but I am so clearly overdressed." You turn on your heel to go back into the bedroom.

"Oh no you don't." Billy says, and before you know it, he's grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his body.

You gasp, eyes widening on his face as he presses you against the wall of the hallway.

Your heart pounds in your chest at his proximity. Your need for him outweighs rational thought until you have to remind yourself that he's still recovering. If he touched you right now though, he'd find you already wet, and eager for him.

While you've been fighting your aching desire, he's taken the time to run the tips of his fingers across the apple of your cheek.

"God. You're so pretty." He whispers, warm eyes spilling euphoria into you.

He couldn't mean that. Could he?

You glance away, only to be forced into looking back at him when he grabs your jaw roughly.

The tension between you feels like an electric charge, that heightens as he gets closer.

It's like he's never touched you before, like the sensation is brand new, and not months old.

"I should change," You whisper, "This dress is too much."

He takes a deep breath, his hand glides from gripping your jaw to curl around your throat. Your breath stutters at the feeling. Something flutters low, an ache to be filled rears its head.

"You're gorgeous. In anything you wear. I'd want you in a ball gown or a potato sack."

Good lord.

When you smile, he brings his fingers up to press against your lips, exploring the shape of your smile, appreciating the softness.

"You mean that?" You ask, a little unsure.

His dark eyes devour you, unfocused as he looks at you, balancing on the precipice of admiring you and imagining just exactly what he wants to do to you.

"Why don't I show you?" He offers.

You reach to grip his elbows when it seems like he's going to kneel.

"No, we- you're still recovering and I don't think it's fair that I get to cum if you can't."

He lets out a low grunt, pressing his body roughly against yours, his palms against the wall on either side of your head, his forehead and nose pressed to yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you turn your head to look away, he's got the demeanour of a man starved, desperate, borderline unhinged.

He doesn't let you move far, fingers curling around the back of your neck to bring you back to face him.

"Little wife," he says so deeply that you're not sure if it's a promise or a threat.

"Lift your dress up for me, or I'll tie you up and lick your cunt anyway."

You gulp. The very thought of being helpless while he-

Fuck, but you didn't even have the time, Frank would be expecting you in an hour.

You let out a breath, feeling more than seeing the smile that forms on his face as you begin gathering the materials of your skirt into your fists.

"Good." he says finally, and you can only feel your body throb with heat in response.

There's the gentlest kiss to your mouth, something of a promise, a pledge that when he's done with you, you won't remember how to walk.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kneels, you know that when he reaches up to tug your underwear down the length of your legs, that he'll see the desperation he causes.

He swears when he sees it, drawing out the syllables as he witnesses the way your arousal clings to the little piece of fabric protecting your modesty.

You swallow, the materials bunched in your hands no doubt wrinkling with the force.

He takes his time, tracing coarse fingers over your calve, behind your knee and up your thigh, pulling gently to guide one of your legs over his shoulder.

He doesn't bother to touch your centre, circle your sweet bud with his thumb like he wants to, he uses his tongue right away.

You take in a sharp breath at the contact. The tip of his tongue meeting your clit affectionately, like old friends reuniting.

A shiver goes down your spine, you crush your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Billy." You whisper softly, tilting your head back as his tongue flattens on you.

He takes it slow, remarkably gentle on your hypersensitive body, having gone relatively long in recent times without an orgasm, you feel like just the right move will pull you apart at the seams.

You let out a little groan, sighing as his pace quickens, his tongue pushing deeper, so that he can get a taste of you directly from the source.

It's primal, soft, ritualistic in the way that his tongue worships you, your eyes rolling back in your head as he draws you close to your peak.

There's an obscene sucking sound, followed closely by a hum of pleasure from between your legs. You feel your body tense, coiled tight on the precipice of bliss, thighs trembling as he keeps his tongue focused on your clit, lapping gently, and then a little harsher, to be gentle again.

His beard scratches your thighs, and even that is an aphrodisiac by itself, reminding you constantly that it's his mouth on you, his tongue on your cunt, his head between your thighs.

A sharp whine of warning, your stomach tightens, your breath stutters.

A groan of approval from him, the soft twist of his fingers on your skin, as if to encourage you, to tell you how good you're being for him, and all you ever want to do now is be good for him.

Being deconstructed by his mouth should be a lot harder, and yet, Billy makes it look like a basic endeavour.

Your toes curl, head knocking the wall, you feel like you're coming apart, atom by atom, the force of your pleasure barely contained within your skin. You feel the walls of your cunt clamp down into a tight vise, as wave after wave of bliss fills every square inch of your body.

You barely make more than a quiet gasp- too inebriated on his tongue to even scream.

He keeps licking you gently, lazily, trembling shudders working through your system until you're forced to tap his shoulder for a reprieve.

Another obscene sound when he pulls away, looking up at you, his mouth and beard shiny with your release.

He puts you back on two feet, but your knees buckle once the full weight of you is on them.

He stands swiftly, arms wrapping around you to pull you to his body keeping you upright, a small grunt leaving him.

You blink, struggling to restart your brain.

You realise his grunt is one of pain, as he tries to hold you up, it's what kickstarts your brain into working.

You grip his biceps, straightening your legs under you and willing them to stay that way.

"Sorry." You whisper, trying to take a deep breath.

"It's alright. If I could, I would have picked you up myself." He whispers back, and you raise your head to look into his eyes.

Something unnameable passes between you, you can't put a finger on it- but it feels like quiet appreciation for each other.

He helps you to the couch, sitting you down before disappearing into the bathroom.

When he re-emerges, it's with a clean face and a damp washcloth.

He encourages you down to the car after cleaning you and redressing you. You try to tell him that you're capable- but he won't have it.

He slides into the back of the car beside you, and almost immediately tucks your body against his, pulling your legs over one of his for comfort.

You sag, still fatigued from such a powerful orgasm.

Jesus, was it always going to be like that? All mind-consuming and explosive?

You smile when he kisses your forehead, tilting your head up to let him kiss you softly on the mouth.

Delightful, consuming, everything about him was just so... tantalising, you wanted to spend hours learning him, take days to map every thought in his head, every idea in his heart.

He was a dangerous enigma, a slippery slope.

And you were falling.

When Frank pulls the door to his house open, he gives you both a very suspicious look.

After a moment, he lets out a long sigh of disappointment.

"You two better not fuck in my house." He threatens.

"How can you even tell?" Billy asks in disbelief, reading into the quiet accusations being made by Frank.

"Isn't it obvious?" Frank asks, opening the door wider to let you in.

"Hi Frank," you say in greeting as you walk past him. He says your name, with a small nod of acknowledgement.

You take a moment to appreciate their house, it's warm and cozy, with lots of baseball trophies lining the mantle over the fireplace. There's a lot of pinks and beiges, a cozy line of couches near the fire.

Before you can do more looking, you hear a woman's voice.

"Is that them?" She asks, spinning into the room.

This must be Maria, you think, as you watch her take Billy into an aggressive hug, giving him a kiss to the cheek before letting him go in a flourish, a look of violation comically painted on his face.

When she turns to you next, you gulp.

She's very pretty, with lovely auburn hair. You notice a large scar curving from the corner of her eye down to the edge of her chin.

You only get a second of awareness before she's taking you into a hold just as violent as the one she'd trapped Billy in.

You can't help but giggle at her blatant showing of affection.

She says your name in greeting.

"I hear you kneed Frank in the balls. Well done."

You splutter for an excuse.

"I'm sorry-"

"-Don't be," she interjects, "I wished I'd seen it myself."

You smile, looking over to Frank, who is mid-roll of his eyes.

"That'll cost you later, big boy. Come! Dinner is almost ready." Maria says quickly, turning away and you let out a little chuckle in response to Frank's apologetic face.

"Billyyyyyyyyy." You hear someone shout, and you watch in horror as a small blur begins racing to your husband.

Your mouth opens, subtly stepping in front of him, ready to catch said blur.

Frank beats you to it, grabbing his son under the arms and picking him up for a second before putting him back down.

"Woah there slugger, take it easy on Uncle Billy, he just had surgery."

You sigh, moving away from Billy so that he can hug his godson in peace. You catch Maria staring at you. You give her a smile of apology before looking away.

"Frank, I want you to meet my wife," Billy says, turning the younger Frank's body in your direction.

You can instantly see the suspicious look on his face.

You tell him your name, extending your hand politely in greeting.

He takes it, shaking your hand politely, it's the best you can hope for, being a stranger in their home.

"You're not a gold digger are you?" Frank Jr. says suddenly.

It's met with lots of scolding from his parents. You can't help laughing at everyone's shocked expressions.

"Where did you even learn that word?" Frank says, exasperated.

"In school." Younger Frank answers honestly.

Billy straightens, gives you an apologetic look.

"She's not with me for my money, junior, I'm with her cause she's sweet." He wraps a hand around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

You can't look at him, leaning in and accepting the comfort.

You meet Lisa next, Frank's older daughter, she's polite, but you can also see the accusation in her eyes.

You figure it's nice, that at least there are people looking out for Billy, though, you almost want to shout his crimes so that you stop being treated so abrasively.

Billy had warned you that the Castles could be protective, that they'd like you once they got to know you.

You'd hoped that were true.

When Maria asks how you and Billy met during dinner, you both pause in horror as the answer comes to mind.

You let out a long sigh.

"We met a couple of years ago, at a Christmas party, my boyfriend at the time was working at Anvil." You say with a smile.

Maria nods eagerly in understanding. You can see how bad it looks.

"Alright," you say, finally having enough. Your fork clatters onto your plate and you watch Billy turn his head to you in alarm.

"Cards on the table. No, I'm not with him for his money- and I'm not pregnant either if any of you are thinking it. I like him. I like his stupid face and his stupid laugh and I feel safe around him and I never really had that before." You pause for a second, taking a sip of water before continuing.

"Sure, how we met wasn't the best, and how we got married was even worse, but I like him."

Billy reaches over, taking your hand in his, you glance up at him, your stomach tying into knots as you meet his eyes.

"He's my best friend." You finish.

You feel his hand squeeze yours.

Billy leans forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and hiding your mouths from view as he kisses you softly.

The entire table erupts into groans, mostly from both Franks and you can't help laughing into his kiss.

It lightens the mood though, and there's less tension in the air by the time dinner is finished.

Everyone helps with cleaning up, and you find yourself drying dishes next to Maria while the rest of the family clear the table.

"He's not someone we'd ever thought could settle down." Maria murmurs.

You look up at her curiously.

She sees your confused expression and tries to explain.

"He's always just been so focused on himself, there were a lot of bad things about his childhood, and more in the military, and we just never thought he could be in a spot where he could live with someone. He tends to push people away after a while. Even us."

You look down, letting out a long sigh, wondering what you would do if he ever tried to push you away.

Accept it, you guess. What could you really do if he decided he didn’t want you anymore? Nothing.

“But don’t worry.” She interjects, you look up at her, eyes settling on her wicked scar for a second before you look down at your dish, “He likes you, he really does, maybe you did have a rough start, but I have faith in both of you.”

Your mouth pulls into a smile, you thank her for her kind words.

You play Jenga with them next, laughing and tickling Billy’s left side affectionately to distract him while he moves.

He grins, his hand remains remarkably steady while you torment him with your fingers. Everyone jeers, encouraging his loss, booing him when he manages to get the block on top of the tower without toppling it.

Your turn is next and you smile happily as you lean forward to make your move. You feel his hand on the small of your back, rubbing affectionately as you pick your piece. He doesn’t try to shake you or cheat like you did while you pull your piece out. The rest of the Castle family boo you in funny ways, and you have this moment of realisation that this is what family feels like.

When you get your wooden brick seated next to Billy’s, he kisses you on the temple, murmuring a ‘Good job, baby.’ into your ear in a low voice that has your body responding eagerly to him.

There’s a look that passes between you, something warm and electric, the silent guarantee that if you were alone right now, you’d be ripping at each other's clothes.

It’s Frank that drops the tower, after Maria whispers something into his ear quietly, and you smile at the way he looks at her in half betrayal and half adoration as everyone cheers for his loss.

You see it, you understand why these people are so important to him, the humanity inside each Castle is a unique thing, that makes the whole family unit just work so easily.

You’re glad to have met them, and you’re also sad when you have to bid them goodbye at the end of the night.

Maria hugs you both, Frank gives you an almost friendly pat on your shoulder. There’s a bittersweetness to it that you’ve barely felt before, a real family that you can be a part of, a promise to reunite soon that sparks hope inside of you.

You leave, hand in hand with Billy, a little bit happier than you were when you first arrived, feeling like you understood your husband just a little bit more.

In the car, he lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back. He’s in pain, you realise.

“My scar is starting to hurt.” he confesses, turning his head to look at you.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“We’ll get you home and get some medicine into you, okay?” You say softly, leaning into him, till your nose rubs affectionately against his.

He nods, eyes drooping as he feels your hand move to cup the healing area of his abdomen over his shirt gently. He leans into you, resting his head into the crook of your neck, your other hand moving up to play with his hair.

You feel him sigh in bliss.

You tug your heels off so that you have better balance to support him, encouraging him to lean into you a little so that he’s in a little less pain while you get him up to your apartment.

His pain has worsened by the time you sit him in bed and rummage through your cabinet for his medicine.

You get it to him first, making sure he finishes the glass of water you gave him before you begin taking his shoes off.

“You don’t have to-” He tries to sit up, “I can-” He grunts in pain when he curls forward too much.

You push him back gently, giving him a kiss to his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers while you wait for him to respond.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

You tug his shoes off, and then undo his pants, giggling slightly when he struggles to lift his hips to help you.

You can’t help touching him, feeling over his thick thighs as they’re exposed to you. You kiss his happy trail when you see it, giggling when he groans.

“Tease.” He pouts.

You kiss his pout too.

Only after you strip him down to his boxers and carefully check his scar, do you tuck him into bed, moving to dress down for the night too.

When you struggle for too long with the zipper, you sit on the edge of the bed beside Billy and ask him for help.

He kisses your exposed back when he gets the zip undone.

When you’re finally in your silky PJs, you slide into bed beside him, noticing that he’s still awake, but blinking slowly.

“Are you still in pain?” You ask, tilting your head to observe him.

“No pain.” He answers, “Groggy.”

You sigh in relief, sliding closer to him, till you’re pressed to his side. Your hand slides into his rough one, and you quietly enjoy the feeling of being next to him until he speaks.

“I’ve never had this.” Billy whispers. You raise your head to look at him, noticing how unfocused his eyes are, staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, as if to remind himself that he’s still awake.

“The old me would have never confessed to anyone that I was hurting.”

He turns his head, glassy eyes focusing on you.

“But you… The way you fight for me makes me want to trust you more and more each time.” He swallows, “It’s scary.”

He raises a hand, cups your cheek and you can’t help leaning into him, closing your eyes in hopes that it puts him at ease, that he doesn’t feel stared at while he opens himself up to you.

“No one has ever taken care of me before. Not like you have. You look at me- and I- I mean something. You know?”

You open your eyes then, staring at him for a long moment, finding that your throat has closed up from your abundance of emotion.

“You mean a lot.” You whisper, your hand raising to cup his.

His eyes are glassy, almost on the brink of tears.

“I didn’t know.”

You’re in the kitchen making coffee two days after, scarily deep in thought.

In the quiet of the morning you think about everything that’s happened. From Dominic dumping you to the despair you felt when your annulment request had been denied. You think about it all, and you think about your mother, whose call you had ignored yesterday after walking out of her house when you found out Billy was sick.

You didn’t know how to approach her, or what you would say when she asked you the question she’d asked before.

Before you can think yourself into a downward spiral, an arm wraps itself around your waist. His hand is broad, spreading over your tummy and leaving warm tingles behind, his touch so comforting that you can’t help but smile and lean into him a little.

“Good morning, Mrs. Russo.” He grumbles softly, letting you know exactly what he thought of waking up alone in bed.

“What can I help you with, Mister Russo?” You tease, smiling as you both sway together.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only with the sounds of your shared breaths as you enjoy the presence of each other.

“I would like you to come back to bed. It’s a Saturday and you haven’t cuddled me for nearly long enough.”

You grin, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah? And what do I get if I come back to bed with you right now?”

He hums, nose pressing against your ear, one hand on your stomach and the other rising up to cup your jaw securely.

“I can think of many imaginative ways to thank you.” He murmurs, the heat of his breath tickling your ear gently.

It’s something you could never even think to dream of.

A/N: Sorry I've been so inactive... bad things have happened, just popping in to post this cause I don't want it to sit in my drafts for any longer.

#accidentally on purpose #accidentally on purpose married billy #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #frank castle #my writings #billy russo smut

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bellaxisworld · 23 days

Text

february 29, @jegulus-microfic prompt: address. word count: 1,019.

James checks and double-checks the star shaped silver tag, glancing out the car window at the street sign. “Are you sure this is the right address?” he asks Remus, running a gentle hand along the black cat’s fur. The cat, Lune, purrs and pushes her head into his palm. He smiles, warmth blooming in his chest from her unabashed affection. They’d only just picked her up an hour ago, finding her stranded but clawing gently at their door. James’ heart immediately latched onto her, melting everytime she nudged him with her paw.

“This is definitely the address from her collar,” Remus mutters, looking at the small flower beds lining the walkway. The home was rather lovely, looking strangely antique but well taken care of.

James had no clue how Lune managed to find herself halfway across the city.

He and Remus walk tentatively up to the green-painted door, and James already mourns the loss of Lune, aching with the thought of having to let her go. She’s curled up against his chest, eyes half lidded with sleepiness. James wants to hold on forever.

The door opens, and James thinks his world realigns itself, or maybe it falls apart and rebuilds into something new, something utterly wonderful.

The most lovely boy James has ever seen stands before them, pouting and adorable, with flushed cheeks and black curls ruffled against his forehead and around his ears. He looks rather disturbed that anyone dares bother him, and James thinks there should be art dedicated to the glory that is this man standing before him. James thinks he is the art itself.

His pretty gray eyes widen almost comically as he sees the cat in James’ arms.

James’s heart flips and turns and squeezes when he grumbles something unintelligible in French, and he’s silent, stuck staring at this beauty in awe.

Remus clears his throat. “We found her clawing at our door this afternoon. I’m not quite sure how she made it to our part of town, but—”

“My idiot brother, that’s how,” the man says, rolling his eyes and huffing. James wants to touch and feel him under his fingertips, completely enraptured by this downright angelic being. “He was babysitting her this weekend while I was out of town. Obviously, he cannot be trusted with babysitting.” He reaches forward with pale hands to scoop her from James’ chest, but James is transfixed, lips parted as he thinks about the French lilt to the man’s words. He might be falling in love.

Remus elbows him and he’s sharply brought back to reality, highly aware he was staring for a moment too long. He releases Lune to her owner’s arms, and she purrs again, nuzzling into the man’s neck. James is full of butterflies as he sees the man smile, hands lovingly cradling Lune. He feels less sorry for returning her, now that he sees the love she is returning to.

James also plans on infiltrating the man’s life, wiggling his way into his beautiful arms, so he knows he’ll see her again.

“Thank you both for bringing her home. It’s quite a ways from your home, I imagine, but your effort is very appreciated.” He speaks so formally, and James wants to dig his fingers into and tug and tug until something breaks. He’s feeling rather insane about this stunning stranger. “I’m Regulus, by the way. Your names are—?”

Remus chokes, coughing rather dramatically. “Regulus?” he croaks. “As in, Regulus Black?”

What a pretentious name, James thinks, again staring at him wistfully. Then— “Black? Like, Sirius—”

“I am Regulus Black, Sirius Black’s brother.” Regulus says, monotonously. Ah, the French makes sense. “Stupid bastard couldn’t even properly babysit my cat.” He huffs. “Are you all neighbors, then?”

Sirius Black is James’ enthusiastic French neighbor turned good friend. He was also blessed with unnaturally good looks, and James sees the resemblance now, looking at Regulus.

Beside James, Remus blushes and mumbles, “Not my neighbor—”

Sirius is James’ neighbor, and Remus’ current European conquest. How fitting, James thinks, for him and Remus both to fall for the Black brothers.

James is free-falling off the deep end, preparing for a brutal fall.

“I’m James,” he manages to say. Regulus’ rapt attention turns to him and he burns under it, feeling overwhelmed immediately. “Sirius’ neighbor.” He extends a hand and a smile, waiting for Regulus to take it.

Take my hand, he begs in his head. Free fall with me.

Their hands meet in the middle, and James swears he feels a spark ignite between them. He thinks he sees Regulus blush under his gaze.

Their hands fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. They both linger in the other’s touch, reluctant to pull away, brown eyes caught on gray ones, stuck in this charged moment.

“Thank you, James,” whispers Regulus, and James grins, soaking up every second of his attention, feeling a rush of affection towards him. His name spilling from Regulus’ lips feels like a form of worship.

James takes a leap of faith, free-falling off the very edge of which he was unprepared to fall from. “Can I get your number, Regulus?” Catch my fall, catch my fall, catch my—

“Yes,” he breathes, hastily running into his apartment and returning with a slip of paper. He’s blushing fiercely, and James wants nothing more than to kiss his pink cheeks. He’s beautiful and soft, worth being cherished.

James winks on his way down the steps, and when they make it into the car, Remus cackles. “Both of us! The Black brothers, James, both of them!” He’s wheezing.

They drive off, and James looks back to see a black head of curls peeking through a curtained window. James smiles, and Regulus waves back, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

If James is free-falling, so is Regulus—and that’s what love is all about, doing the scary things together. They’ll hold each other through the fall, and the crash might not hurt so bad. Maybe the pain will vanish with the first touch of a lover’s kiss. Either way—they’ll come out of it, together.

✩ part 29/29 of my microfic-fic on ao3: february, i'm yours.

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mint-yooxgi · 9 months

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Longing - Yandere!Dragon!Changbin

Yandere AU & Dragon AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Changbin X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,678

Warnings: Possessive thoughts, some smutty thoughts, and some minor violent thoughts. Mentions of potential kidnapping, but nothing comes of it. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Again, I feel like I definitely could have made this much more feral than it is, but I think it's good! Dragon Binnie is just a softie at heart, but maybe that's just me hehehe anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Ninth of The Feral Drabbles

That human… Why does he even bother? Doesn’t he know that you’re mine?

The only thing worse than seeing how desperate this imbecile is in getting your attention, is knowing that you fall for it. Every. Single. Time.

Why does somebody as pathetic as him get to love you, and why- why, why, why, why, do you love him back?

I’ve known you for longer, but perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve waited so long to insert myself into your life that you don’t realize what’s right in front of you. I have always been ready and willing to serve you, to love you at a moment’s notice. Yet, none of that seems to matter to you. It’s so frustrating.

No, you would rather be with a mortal who can’t even protect you properly against his friends. He doesn’t stick up for you. He doesn’t defend your honour when they make nasty, pretentious comments against you, right in front of both of your faces. He lets them walk all over you, and does nothing about it!

Believe me, My Jewel, there have been a few times where I’ve had to strongly resist the urge to tear his throat out for remaining silent when those comments clearly affect you so negatively. I see the way you retreat into that shell of yours, one which I long to break you out of. You never have to worry about being too much, or too loud when you’re around me. Anyone who says otherwise will be fried to a crisp.

You should be showered in praise, not hid in a corner and talked down to in order to please others.

Come to me, My Jewel. I will let you shine. I will make you shine.

I just wish you weren’t so guarded around me.

Did I come on too strong? Am I too boisterous?

I thought that’s what you liked…

It must be him. He is the one telling you to stay away from me. He is the one keeping us apart, after all.

Oh, how I long to tear that bastard limb from limb. Only, that would make you upset, wouldn’t it? I would hate to be the reason that My Jewel loses her sheen, even if you aren’t aware of it. The guilt alone would eat me alive. Besides, it’s not like you don’t love him.

I hate that. More than anything.

The fact that your love is wasted on someone so weak, someone so… undeserving makes me sick.

I have spent countless days and nights preparing for our life together, only for this bastard to steal you away from me. I cleaned my hoard. I rearranged the furniture. Hell, I even started decorating our nest with more things that I know you like. Only, my efforts were all in vain.

I wasn’t quick enough.

Do you not see the way I look at you? I know he does, and I know that he’s threatened by it. I am one of the strongest dragons in this territory, and I am not afraid to assert my dominance over him if need be.

I could take you by force. After all, dragons are notorious for stealing that which they desire most, especially when they wish to add such beauty to their collections. Only, I can’t bring myself to do that to you. I’m not like that, and I don’t want you to despise me. If you’re going to want me, it will be of your own free will, not because I’ve forced you to.

Which is why my situation frustrates me to no end. So badly do I want to tear you away from that no good, disgusting, vile - well, you get the point - man. However, I also know that it would devastate you. I need you to leave him of your own volition, not because I ate him in a fit of jealous rage.

Oh, how I’ve longed to torment him, too. He stole you away from me, and despite how I pride myself on how civil I can be, I have never wanted to lose control so badly before. It would be so easy, too. I could even make it look like an accident…

I won’t lie, I have thought about the various ways in which I could torment and torture him for what he’s done to us. Sometimes, those thoughts help me fall asleep, but then I picture you resting in my arms, and I manage to calm myself down.

You just have that affect on me. You make me want to be better - do better. I want to make you happy, and I will. I promise you that.

Eventually.

I’m working on a plan to help drive you into my arms, and after what I witnessed tonight, I’ll be putting it into motion much sooner, rather than later.

I almost lost my temper tonight, My Jewel. Something that has not happened to me in years. However, seeing that- that- that thing with his hands all over you drove me insane.

Doesn’t he know not to touch the art? Priceless artifacts are meant to be shown off and displayed, not for grimy hands to smear dirt all over their beauty.

Well, unless you’re a dragon like me. Then, it’s okay. At least I know how to take care of treasure, and that’s exactly what you are, Jewel. You are the finest treasure this world has ever seen, and I will spend every day of the rest of our lives proving that to you.

Though, please don’t think I view you as some kind of trophy. I may consider you to be the greatest Jewel in my collection, but that does not mean I see you as an object. I wouldn’t be going to such great lengths to have you if I did, and I never want you to think that. I don’t own you, but I will admit, long since have I desired to be able to call you mine. I desperately want you to call me yours, too.

I will protect you. I will provide for you. Anything and everything that you could ever dream of. I want to make all of your dreams come true, and then some. You honestly have no idea what you mean to me, what you do to me. So badly, I want to spend time with each other, getting to know every minuscule detail about the other’s interests and hobbies. Then, I want to partake in them all with you.

You, and you alone.

There is nothing I desire more than your happiness, and I know for a fact that you will find the greatest joy when you’re with me.

Honestly, My Jewel, when it comes down to it, I desperately long to please you. In any and every way I can. In every and any way imaginable.

I want to cook for you. I want to cook with you, and see you smile at me when I eventually fuck up the recipe because despite my best efforts, I am a horrible cook. They say it’s the thought that counts, though, right?

I want to go for walks together, exploring places you could never have thought up even in your wildest dreams. I want to show you my hoard, and let you pick out the finest of gems so I can make you a crown, a necklace, a ring. Anything to have you shining like the Jewel I know you are.

More than all of that, though, I want everyone to know that you’re mine, and I’m yours.

I want to please you in every intimate, intricate way you’ll let me. I adore you, My Jewel, and I just wish that you could see that.

I certainly adore you more than he does.

Does he even know how to please another person? Fuck, I was getting so heated watching his pitiful attempts to bring you pleasure. Even I could tell you were faking it.

Don’t you know you’d never have to fake anything with me? I would kill to be able to touch you, My Jewel. I have long since desired to learn every aspect of your body so that only I can be able to bring you the utmost pleasure in the most intimate of ways.

Let me get lost in the heat that radiates from between your legs. Let me spend hours licking at every part of you, until the only thing you can think about is the way my tongue feels on your skin. I want my name to be the only thing you can utter from those sinful lips of your, moaning praises meant for me and me alone.

Let me roam my hands all over that delectable body of yours. Let me carve my marks into your skin, so that everyone will know who has loved you in the most fulfilling of ways. I long to know what your body feels like pressing against my own, your arms wrapped around my back as your hands pull me in closer. I want your nails carving your own marks into my skin, claiming me as your own.

I’d let you see my wings. Hell, I’d even let you touch them as I’m making love to you. Maybe I’ll even tease you with my fangs, and my claws. A little bit of danger which in the throws of passionate loving never hurt anyone. Besides, I believe it would make things a bit more thrilling, don’t you?

Please, My Jewel, let me fulfill our greatest desires as one. Let me claim you as my own, and mark you with the most sacred of intimacies I know how. I promise you’ll never know fear, you’ll never know doubt. Only happiness, and an unquestionable, unshakable loyalty and love from the one who has always been desperately devoted to you from the start. The one who has been longing for your embrace far before I even knew what this feeling bursting inside of my chest was.

Please, just let me love you.

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere changbin #changbin smut #changbin scenario #stray kids smut #yandere stray kids #yandere skz #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids scenario #kpop scenario #kpop smut #yandere kpop #kpop au #dragon au #chubby reader

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thatswhatsushesaid · 7 months

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i fell in love with jin guangyao when he threw his hands up (metaphorically) at nie mingjue during the stair debacle and went "wow you really Cannot understand me. fine. i tried. skill issue"!! i thought it was so cool how neatly he dual-wielded justified terror, justified snark, and a sincere attempt at making himself understood. i guess that's triple-wielding, actually, but you get it

you’re right, i do get it, i get it so much. 🤝🤝🤝 that moment turned me into the unhinged jgy stan i am today.

Jin GuangYao sighed, “Brother, it really was my father’s orders. I couldn’t refuse. Now, if you want me to take care of Xue Yang, what would I say to him?”

Nie MingJue, “There’s no need for explanations. Come back to me with Xue Yang’s head in your hand.”

Jin GuangYao still wanted to speak, but Nie MingJue had already lost all patience, “Meng Yao, don’t speak such pretentious words in front of me. Your whole thing stopped working on me since a long time ago!”

Within a second, a few degrees of unease flashed over Jin GuangYao’s face, as though someone with an unmentionable illness was suddenly exposed in the public. There was nowhere for him to hide.

He spoke, “My whole thing? Which whole thing? Brother, you’ve always yelled at me for calculating people and being too dishonorable. You say that you’re a proud, righteous person, that you aren’t afraid of anything, that propen men shouldn’t need to play with schemes. That’s fine. Your background is noble and your cultivation is high. But what about me? Am I the same as you? First, my cultivation isn’t as firm as yours. Ever since I was born, has anyone taught me? And second, I have no prominent background. Do you think that I’m in a steady position, here at the LanlingJin Sect? Do you think that I can rise into power the moment Jin ZiXuan dies? Jin GuangShan would rather bring another illegitimate child back than want me to succeed him! You think that I should be afraid of nothing? Well I’m afraid of everything, even other people! He whose stomach is full believes not him who is starving.”

EXR translation, pg 498 & 499

then comes the part of the text where imo jgy is 100% aware of the fact that nmj is going to hear his words and choose the worst faith interpretation of them. this feels like one last moment to give nmj a chance to prove him wrong about what he knows inevitably is about to happen, and it has been quoted and discussed so many times that i don’t think i need to do so again. but i will add this moment too, because i don’t think jgy gets enough credit for the brutal, savage humour in this line, after he gets kicked down the stairs:

Jin GuangYao only landed after rolling down more than fifty steps. He didn’t even stay on the ground for long before crawling up. With a wave of his hand, he sent away the servants and disciples who surrounded him. Dusting off his robes, he slowly raised his head to look at Nie MingJue. His eyes were quite calm, almost indifferent. Just as Nie MingJue unsheathed his saber, Lan XiChen happened to leave the palace to see what was going on, concerned after having waited for long. Seeing the situation before him, he unsheathed Shuoyue as well, “What happened, this time?”

Jin GuangYao, “Nothing. Brother, thank you for your advice.”

EXR translation, pg 500

rating: siiiiiiiiick

#asks answered #mdzs meta #jin guangyao #jgy positivity #also just in case it isn’t clear #the bolded line is HILARIOUS imo because nmj is specifically meant to be disciplining and guiding jgy towards a ‘better path’#in their sworn brotherhood #and so for him to do something so egregiously violent and in clear violation of the terms of their oath #and for jgy to dryly thank him for the diligent tutelage #is THE clearest ringing indictment of the futility of their arrangement #a savage burn tbh

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korcariiwitch · 5 months

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for all the fellow durge x astarion brainrotters out here.

Sooooooo I kind of wanted to throw this out there as an experiment/tentative prelude, but I’ve been considering for a good long while that I’d like to start posting some BG3 writing on here.

Specifically a dark urge x Astarion story that has been rolling around and banging against the bars of its enclosure inside my head. I think I could also make it a mixture of Astarion x reader/Tav and Astarion x OC!durge too. (And a sprinkling of durgetash too).

Please be aware if you read ahead and haven’t played the origin yet, there will be spoilers. So I’ll leave the rest under the cut!

Essentially I have begun to write about the dark urge origin and my character’s journey. Also about Astarion’s and various ways in which their stories parallel one another. Not that the game itself doesn’t already do an incredible job at this. I just have a lot of headcanons that I think could be fun to explore and flesh out and honestly the brain rot is so bad that if I do not put it somewhere, I will absolutely turn into a mindflayer.

I don’t really have anything linear in mind, closer to a cluster of a bunch of different ideas/moments that I just really want to get out of my brain and word vomit them somewhere. It would be a mixture of post-game adventures, moments during the game’s acts, and also quite a bit of pre-amnesia dark urge and some durgetash for good measure because I am a degenerate.

All that being said – I do absolutely want to be inclusive as much as I can. There will be moments where the story can be written in a more neutral way regarding gender and also not include appearance at all if people would like to imagine themselves/their Tavs/OCs instead. Not everything will be just my OC!durge specific and for those particular moments I will tag them as such (including things like content warnings, etc. so people are aware what they’re fulling getting into).

Don’t get me wrong, I still very much want to write about my durge and flesh our their story and really get into the nitty gritty of what I felt their journey was like. Also just their own personal character development in juxtaposition with their relationship with Astarion.

It has been a very very very long time since I’ve posted anything online and I know there’s always a risk with doing so, but I’ve just been honestly so genuinely inspired not only by the writing in the game but the incredible content other people have been creating because of this game and I just want to give a shot. To be a small part of it, even if it truly is just only for me (not to sound presumptuous) and no one notices.

At least, I don’t want to make that the main point but I know there’s a lot of you dark urge enjoyers out here and was essentially just wondering if people would be interested in a story like this?

It’d also most likely be 18+ so I was considering either just making a whole other blog or a side-blog to post there since this account is very very old and I wasn’t sure if it’d be safer and more comfortable for people who might want read this.

Again, I really REALLY don’t want to sound pretentious at all. Just thought it might be cool to share and honestly, I’d love to have people to talk about this game with. Especially about the dark urge, I just have so many feelings about it and I enjoy getting to read all the interesting and insightful meta/thoughts/headcanons people have come up.

To quote our favorite fanged boy, “Honestly, I have no idea what we’re I'm doing. Or what comes next.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 writing #durgetash #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #durge #astarion x durge

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beevean · 9 months

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Honestly, as someone who wasn't a huge fan of Frontiers from a gameplay or story perspective, I couldn't help but feel alienated from the fanbase for a while. People seem to praise it up the ass, and I honestly don't see what their seeing in the game. And often times when you point out criticism, you get responses like "It's a step in the right direction, we should praise it" or "You're not a real Sonic fan if you don't like this"

Are you me? :^)

After all the shit we endured with IDW and its endless, vitriolic discourse about its writing and take on Sonic and Eggman and its "deep" morality (which stopped being deep once Flynn got tired of the discourse, then it became "a book for kids")... Frontiers broke me. Again, I must stress: it's not about the game, because I haven't played it and videos don't make it justice. I can believe it's a fun experience. But the writing is honestly '06 level of bad, mostly for how boring and pretentious the story is.

Where are all these deep, emotional character moments? Where are all these compelling character arcs (that are totally not rehashes of past games)? Where is Sage's depth? Why are we praising Eggman sitting on his ass for 90% of the game and then suddenly developing fatherly feelings when past games made clear that he's only proud of his creations when they make him look good and he's more than willing to abuse them for the slightest transgressions (which Sage has made)?

Then you add the forced references (some of them straight up wrong, like the Neo Metal one), the meta jokes, the completely unnecessary lore that to this day I still don't understand, the underwhelming villain, the wasted conflict of Sonic getting corrupted, the lackluster finale, and the fact that literally nothing happens - which would be fine if this game had a tone more like Heroes or Generations, which were aware that story was their lowest priority, but no, this game wants to be DEEP, a step in the right direction after the EVIL PONTAFF! (I still find very... unprofessional? that Flynn wrote a jab at Baldy McNosehair in one of the Egg Memos. It's not even the first time he does that, he also did it in IDW. I get it man, you think your writing is so much better, "thanks for putting the chili back on my dog" :^) )

So anyway. It got to the point where the praise genuinely made me feel like there was something wrong with me. I don't like IDW, I don't like Frontiers, now I don't see anything promising in Prime - am I a bad Sonic fan? Am I being stripped of something that gave me joy since I was 8? I had to distance myself. I had to keep my few friends close and think about the parts I still enjoy.

It's not the first time I took a "break" from Sonic - the period from 2013 to 2017 was... bad. But everyone else agreed that it was! That's the thing. It's one thing to disagree that SA2 is a masterpiece, because fine, whatever, you can't always agree with the majority. But when it comes to modern material, the majority is so vitriolic and nasty, and I can't deal with it anymore. I'll make my own fandom :\

#sonic the hedgehog #also this is personal to me but i also watched nfcv during that time #another product praised up its ass when i genuinely think it's horrible under every aspect #so let's just say i lowkey felt gaslighted at the end of 2022

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lovenona · 2 years

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OMG idk if youve ever seen that 90s movie ‘The Swan Princess’ but i rewatched it and am deeply thinking of princess!reader and prince!sukuna who were introduced as kids with the intention of being in an arranged marriage once they become of age and spending every summer at each other’s kingdoms and just going back and forth fighting eachother, pulling pranks, and just being so bad to each other LOL and when they finally come of age they both feel that pressure of society and sukuna eventually gives in and realizes he truly loves reader, viewing her as the most beautiful of the land, but reader wants to know if he truly loves her for more than her looks AHH SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE

omg the swan princess i haven’t heard that name in years what a classic 😭 ugh childhood enemies/friends to lovers my beloved.....as kids you thought he was a mean stinky boy, and he thought you were pretentious and annoying ... and even though your parents had arranged the marriage from the moment you were born, you insisted that you would rather perish than ever do such a thing – after all, he used to put frogs in your study ! he once hid all of your books so you couldn’t read them ! who in their right mind would want to spend their lives with someone like him !

when you got older, though, you started to panic when things changed. for a few years you didn’t see him: you were finishing your studies, he was off doing princely things, and you didn’t find each other at the same ball again until long after you’d left the terrible awkwardness of your teen years behind you. it was possibly the worst moment of your life to realize that sukuna had gotten unbearably sexy. his arms were massive, his tits divine, his face always relaxed in that look of amused boredom whenever he talked to the other royal ladies. he could dance; he could recite poetry; he could paint, too, many of the portraits in the royal family hall having been done by his hand.

when you spoke to sukuna now, you could not help but be aware of these things, and while you still kept up your childhood banter, you wished he would understand that you were trying (key word trying) to flirt with him. after all, despite your arrangement, you’d heard rumors of prince sukuna entertaining scores of other girls throughout his travels. how were you to know whether sukuna still liked you? how could you discern whether he still wanted this marriage at all? what if you were holding him back, and then he’d come to hate you?

since, after all, you had opposed the marriage for years – and now, finally, you’re terrified to admit to anyone that you’re actually looking forward to it.

#ROYAL AU MY BELOVED.........#ARRANGED MARRIAGE MY BELOVED..........#FRIENDS TO LOVERS MY BELOVED.................#YEAH.#YEAH #[CRIES AND DIES]#princess diaries 2 with THEM #ryomen.sukuna #sukuna x reader

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transdib · 6 months

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every day i live in a passive limbo, waiting for the moment i suddenly feel better and can confront my anxiety, paranoia, and loneliness.

i feel like i have been shattered, and left in pieces with no glue to be put back together.

every day my existentialism and history of being gaslit dominates my brain and i can never make sense of my thoughts and feelings. i am constantly second-guessing myself, and implanting intentions that weren't previously there. i feel like i am required to have constant self-awareness, and to not have so means that i am Obviously Insane and Unsalvagable.

people on the outside would think im just a very holistic thinking person. which is true, and can be a good thing. but honestly? it's detrimental to how i perceive myself. i cannot unabashedly live in the moment of anything. i am, by default, viewing myself from a third person perspective in a hyper critical way. i feel afraid to fall into any category of people or labels, because to claim anything about myself is felt to either be a lie, a mockery of people who are "really" that thing, or it's attention seeking (which of course is the worst thing you could ever do right?)

even claiming to be existential causes a fear and anxiety that i am being pretentious or not self aware that it's a very human experience. my detachment from the world, my trauma, my existentialism, none of it is important or matters because others experience it too.

i cannot begin to describe what gaslighting does to the brain.

what it's done to me.

i dont even wanna claim ive become very isolated because others also experience it. id say the lockdowns from 2020-2021 triggered this, but i think more and more and realise that i wouldve done this when my mum died, or even earlier had i not had a confident person with friends take me under their wing.

i feel my whole life has come into question. i feel like my old home, my old life, my friends and pet and loved ones, dont exist anymore. i feel like im a dead person, looking back on their life and realising who i really was. all the mistakes and inconsiderate behaviours i ever done. it just fuels the fire of the gaslit brain.

everything i ever do or feel is a contradiction. i dont matter to others, but i also have more of an impact on others than i realise. the impact i have matters more than what im ever feeling, and for me to not be self aware of that clearly demonstrates how selfish and horrible i truly am.

maybe it's why people think im such a giving, non-judgemental, and sweet person. im not. im angry. im subjugated. im frightened. like a deer in the headlights, i have no choice. im easygoing and agreeable because i am scared of disagreeing or giving my thoughts through normal debate. because doing so in the past has caused assumptions about me, or intentions skewed or created. my words did not matter, but also they did.

i dont know how to just. start talking to people again. i have been given advice from people who have dealt with isolation but. i know the secret is to challenge yourself and do things even when you dont feel ready, because youll never feel ready, but how? i have lost so much. i dont have the support i need to do something so brave. because i am a coward who avoids and runs away. thats probably manipulative for me to do anyway. ive dug myself into a hole i cant climb out of. ive literally made it worse for myself for no reason. and now i cant even face the consequences of my own inaction.

but why would i wish for people to be there for me when i cant even be there for them? i know i would be there for them, in a heartbeat, but i cannot right now. thats selfish and manipulative to say i guess but. it's not fair that others dont get considered as a result of me not considering myself. mental illness makes you selfish. it makes you not a good friend.

i want to be a real friend.

dont wanna break when i bend.

.....

i have a therapist im gonna be seeing every 2 weeks. if this doesnt work out, then idk what i'll do. i have settled for the most part, and when life feels good, when my roots are grounding and growing in england, it feels good. i dont have many friends here, but i am happy with my partner and his friends, but it feels like i have so many loose ends and a life i have left behind that i cant face. and i am guilty when i experience happiness, let alone share it. because that doesnt align with my narrative that im suffering. which i am, but, i am also trying to survive and live in the life i currently have.

i guess that's what happens to the gaslit brain.

but i have to believe things will get better.

because if i don't

then what?

#life of doge #negative rtshrthrth #tw for abuse or gaslighting or whatever #idk why im posting this this is such a traumadump im sorry #its long and self pitying im sorry

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sometimesrosy · 8 months

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Hello! I don’t know if you’d be able to shed some light on this, but there’s a really famous fantasy book going around now called Fourth Wing. I read it, and I loved it. But, there’s basically nothing new about it. It’s a story full of cliches, with stereotypical characters, and an easy to predict plot. But, there’s not a dull moment in the book. From the beginning till the end, even all of the banter are important plot points. From a literacy point of view, what’s your take on it? Why does it work? What makes a story work? I assume it’s super famous from how easy it is to read, not only the accessible language in fantasy but also how smooth the entire story ties in, and maybe how familiar it feels.

Oh I’m dying to read that! From what I heard it’s kind of like a Pern book, and I grew up as a baby geek on the Pern books. And yes I heard it’s also derivative of another big series (I can’t remember which one.)

I actually love this question.

HOW can a cliche ridden, predictable, stereotype filled story engage readers????

My unpopular opinion?

Originality is over rated. Lol.

There are, what is it? Seven stories that humanity tells over and over again. Actually depending upon who you’re talking to, it could be 3, 5, 6, 7, 9 or 36. With different details and different characters and different settings and... that’s okay.

The human brain likes its stories. It likes them familiar so it can follow along. If we didn’t like familiar stories, then we wouldn’t keep telling the same stories. Boy meets Girl, Rags to Riches, The Fall of the Great Man, or whatever. Do we also like surprise? Why sure. Often we don’t know which format the story is until we get to the end, but our brain still gets to sort all that information and shape that story into something meaningful to us with resonance to all the stories that came before.

It’s one of the reasons that our stories tend to fall into regular formats. We’re familiar with the 3/5/7 act structure. We know the Hero’s Journey kind of by heart even if we’re not consciously aware of it. It’s one of the reasons a story like the original Star Wars is so satisfying. It feels ‘right.’ Complete. In order.

I no longer complain of stories being unoriginal. I no longer worry about them following conventions or formats. I no longer worry about stories using tropes. I actually love tropes. Once I realized understanding the tropes in a story could help guide me to the kind of stories I wanted to read and increase my enjoyment, I surrendered to the tropes.

But a good story is more than just good writing, or an original idea, or even a brilliant book. I realized this many years ago when I was reading Twilight-- which I HATED. I literally threw the book across the room. It was so poorly writen I couldn’t stand it. But then I ran after it and picked it up and kept reading because I HAD TO KEEP READING.

And that bothered me. Why was I compelled to keep reading? That’s when I realized that story telling and writing aren’t the same thing. A book can be trite and have shallow characters and be super stereotypical and predictable but if it tells a good story in a way that keeps you turning the pages and engaged in what happens next and the relationships.

And you know what? I think that IS about hooking into the collective unconscious, connecting to the stories you already love, following along with the beloved plots. Jerking on our heartstrings and saving the cat and all that.

Some books are experimental by nature and their point is to push what we expect. They can be l or they can be an incomprehensible pretentious mess. Some books are about lyrical language and poetic images. Some books are about the pain and suffering of meaningful events and the words carve themselves into your skin. You can totally be swept away in the mastery of the writing if that’s your thing. And maybe those are the books that are going to be nominated for awards and prizes. Maybe those are superlative books. I am not knocking that kind of literature.

But that’s not the only kind of literature there is. Genre stories-- fantasy, sci fi, romance, horror, mystery, comic books etc are also literature. I think it’s a con game based in classism and misogyny that says only literary fiction is worthy and genre fiction is a lesser form of literature. I don’t really agree with that. It might, however, have a different purpose for a different audience, and that’s okay.

SOME books tell a story you already know and love in a different way and YOU ARE DOWN FOR IT. You want to see two idiots fall in love. You want to see the underdog overcome their challenges and win the contest. You want to see that damaged found family come together and be better than they were alone. You want to see the end of the world and the scrappy band of survivors trying to live just another day. Maybe you’re looking for a HEA. Maybe you’re looking for gore and trauma and a catharsis. Maybe you just want to live with dragons for a while.

There is nothing wrong with that.

Genre stories for the win.

#genre fiction #literature #literary analysis #tropes #i am biased y'all i've loved sff since I was a kid but my literary education tried to beat it out of me #and the truth is i prefer genre fiction to literary fiction and no longer agree that lit fic is superior #and there is some political weirdness around writing workshops and MFA creative writing degrees that I no longer trust

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g-xix · 1 month

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i just want to make this clear as well, yes i am romantically interested in him, if he is towards me god knows but i just needed to reply to that one comment under ur post as well !! 🫶 i totally get where you’re coming from about a father figure and all that, but i’m 99% it’s not that. this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me, and i have had other father like figures in my life (step-dads that i no longer have much contact w) without actually, what i believe it is at least, falling in love (strong word, but didn’t wanna repeat every word every sentence)

for sure i know it’s a risk doing it if i actually do make a move. yes i’m 99% sure i’m interested in him (love is a real strong word so let’s just interested for now) but pursuing a relationship would be kind of scary, even if i know i want it. as i said, i don’t know if i’ll actually make a move or not as even though i am interested (how many times am i repeating myself holy shit) it’s still like ? i know the age gap is pretty big and even though out school doesn’t restrict teacher/student relationships, i think it’s pretty clear that it’s not exactly admired by the school …….

i don’t wanna get groomed either because of my silly feelings, that’s not a risk i wanna take ☹️

HI AGAIN STUDENT ANON!!!!!!!

Sorry i took my SWEEET time replying to u, man had a scholarship interview, allsorts of hwk, tryna plan an afterpartyyy... Yeah, it's been busy on my end. But WE'RE BACK TO TALKING!!

And yeah, myb for going on abt the father figure thing for so long when that wasn't the case atall 😭 It does seem kinda pretentious now that all that waffle ab father figures was j a missplaced assumption, sorry for that Student!Anon <3

And yeah, u already realise the risks n anti's for playing on that interest (great word choice there) + pursuing that relationship could be so different to what it feels like it would be.

It's like that big whole concept in dating: Do i actually like them, or do i just like the thought of them?

And yeah, clearly you can follow all the diff risks n possibilities of bad things happening which is good 4u, and im glad yk

In a weird way i feel like i sorta sympathise w u atp? Like, don't get me wrong - im sure u can tell from all the stuffs ive said that i don't support u 100% "u go girl" n allat - but smth ab the fact that you like someone but there's sm restrictions in your way...

Ugh, i do feel for u girlie

Altho that being said, u seem like such a lovely girlie, yk, acc self aware n can communicate rly well - regardless of teacher - u have such a pretty personality it wouldn't be hard to find someone who liked u back n would wanna date, fr

You seem like such a sweetie, student anon, acc love chatting w u atp

#WAFFLE!!#student anon

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infinitewarden · 2 years

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We Need to Talk About Falcon's Chase

I've been trying to figure out how to make this post for the past 3 weeks because oh boy. There's a lot of things here to unpack and I'm not entirely sure how I can even start unpacking! So I'll break it down paragraph by paragraph.

Darkness floods me like breath, expanding with each thought. For a time, it flowed out as often as in, giving me space to surface above the pressing sea and glimpse the cruel storm above, the distant hope of shore. But now there is only the sea, and nothing true remains…

This is interesting. A callback to Wolftone Draw, where Osiris recounts moments of clarity, where he can see what Savathun is doing, acting as him. Whatever connection Savathun had to him that allowed her to rake his mind for information and to copy his form allowed him to see through. Or, more accurately, resurfacing from the "water".

Darkness and water are often interchangeable within more poetical depictions of it. Such as the infamous line from Xol: "You shall drown in the deep." And later from Rhulk: "You will not rise from the deep, but drown in it."

There's a lot of emphasis around whatever Osiris is going through being that he's drowning.

As far as we know the reason he no longer resurfaces is because he no longer has that connection to Savathun. It being severed with her death (possibly sooner.)

I shut all three of my eyes; I curl in on myself, offering the world my exoskeleton as a shield. I—

So long was he under Savathun's influence he's started to lose his own sense of self.

No. I am Human. Soft and vulnerable, shell-less. And… Lightless. Waves crash over me: heavy, choking, inexorable. No choice but to drown, no point in swimming. Even the armored succumb to the depths; what chance have I?

Even then he still forces himself to not fall victim to that. To the thought and despair of being a hive. But even then it's becoming more and more difficult. He's starting to lose hope, and it's understandable why. We can only speculate on if or when he will be able to get any hope back.

I wash up on a shattered stone breakwater. I do not know my limbs. I want, I want, I WANT—what? This craving pit echoing deep within me, what does it seek? I would crawl inland if I owned myself, if only to make the hungering stop.

Again, that loss of sense of self is starting to consume him, and he laments that he does not own himself. He wants but he doesn't even know what he wants because he no longer knows himself.

The world erupts beneath me; stone becomes quicksand in an instant. I struggle, fear before thought, and it swallows me all the faster. I reach for aid—my hand is held— Saint?

This is where it becomes interesting. Osiris is briefly aware, if only for a moment, of what's happening outside. We know that this is happening at the same time as Hushed Syrinx because this happens in it:

"He looks at Osiris's hand, seemingly tiny, cradled within his own. There is so much fear in Saint's heart, so much doubt, and so much unspoken love. Too unspoken. Never again. Saint lifts Osiris's hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles." (Hushed Syrinx)

Another interesting note: a Syrinx is the vocal organ of birds. Now. Back to Falcon's Chase.

My fingers brush through open air, met instead by gripping claws. They tear at flesh and mind, wearing a grim intimacy, dripping in the sacrifice of thousands. I know these lie-sharpened talons. Would I could tear that understanding from the synaptic heart of me.

I've been trying to figure out what he means by this. Of course, "gripping claws" and "grim intimacy" and "lie-sharpened" could mean Savathun. It could be anything, really.

I'm also not entirely sure what he means in the last sentence. Osiris is very poetic, we know he is, and he doesn't choose words just to sound pretentious. So. Why this phrase? Synapses are of the brain, this could mean that he can't figure out his own thoughts. Can't understand what's happening with his mind. Or there may be more to it.

I am a hundred shards of myself, shimmering, broken in free fall, glimpsing my own infinite reflections. Some shine gold—some burn sickly green—and some fade as soon as they are witnessed. I cannot guess which one is real. Perhaps one is her. Perhaps I am her. My senses lie.

Another instance of Osiris being unable to differentiate himself from Savathun. However, this seems to show that his mind, his timeline in of itself, is fractured. A parallel to Immolant Part 2 in which he glimpsed as many timelines as he could while his Light was being drained, moments before Sagira's death.

There is something I just had occur to me, however. Savathun is in possession of the Altar of Reflections. This altar tapped into the Darkness' power of memory. And we know now that Savathun was in her throne world a few times, and Osiris was there with her. It could very possibly be his mind is the way it is because of that power.

Think about Mars: time is fractured there, temporal scarring covers the place. It could possibly be that a similar sort of temporal scarring affects Osiris' mind.

A familiar voice calls out, sonorous against the abyss, incomprehensible but sweet. I think I hear the fluttering of wings, but the hum of the Sundial gives no direction. How long has it been? (Falcon's Chase)

This... this however, is the most important part of this entire lore entry. A familiar voice that's incomprehensible but sweet? Sonorous against the abyss? The fluttering of wings? The Sundial? What could it all possibly mean!

I have but one hypothesis to offer: the Traveler is trying to speak to him. This isn't the first time Osiris has equated the Traveler, or one comparable to the Traveler, as being sweet.

Of course there is the term "sonorous against the abyss". Sonorous meaning deep, loud, so it could possibly mean the Witness. But that doesn't explain "familiar" nor "sweet". Saint perhaps? He did mention being able to feel Saint's hand, but in Hushed Lyrinx, Saint doesn't call out to him.

So. Who do we know uses familiar voices in visions to those that are dead or dreaming? The Traveler. When it spoke to Clovis it used Lusia's voice.

The voice of Clovis II’s mother came from her jaws. “You did the same thing someone always does. You saw that there was plenty, and gathered it to yourself, to make yourself one above all others. And when others threatened your plenty, you struck them down to keep your own station.” (Clovis Bray's Logbook — Missing Entries)

And what about sweet?

Osiris described the Speaker's voice as cloying.

"I am pleased to see you here. May I sit?" he spoke. Cloying noise. The stone garden is present. He is present. The Traveler, a monarch against bleak crepuscular ink. "You may." Osiris stands. "Stay." Osiris halts. He turns toward the Speaker; the Light of the Traveler washes against the bone-white hue of his mask. "Is something needed?" (Margins Part II)

And the Traveler has often been described as being incomprehensible with its visions to the Speakers. Of course, let's not forget that the Traveler is the only one of paracausal forces to choose and use bird imagery for humanity.

How could we forget the Traveler's vision from way back in the Red War? Of the Falcon that flew above a deep black ocean with countless drowning in it. (I'm not saying it was suggested way back then, no, just that I wouldn't be too shocked if they used familiar imagery.)

As for the Sundial? Honestly I have no idea. I can only speculate. This brings me back around to the idea of Osiris' mind suffering temporal scarring. We know Osiris used billions of echoes to try and find Saint, some of them are even still in there as far as we know (whether they dissipated once he lost Sagira is unknown.)

One Echo stays for years against Osiris’s orders. He has never lost control of one before; he didn’t think that was even possible. He and the Echoes are the same. (The Sundial.)

He described them as all being him so what they experienced he experienced. With the temporal scarring it could very well be that the "hum of the Sundial" is a product of those echoes and how his mind is fractured.

If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. It's just a matter of waiting, but for the time being I suggest keeping a closer eye on Osiris's lore in future seasons + expansions until he wakes up.

#osiris #destiny osiris #osiris destiny #destiny the game #destiny 2 #season of the haunted #WHEW

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katsukidynam1ght · 1 year

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hot take but if you’re going to argue with me and you don’t know basic spelling i’m going to automatically assume you don’t know what you’re saying

“kats people are dyslexic” yeah and my former dyslexic friend was better at spelling than like 90% of you

“kats english is not everyone’s first language” i make allowances for this but again plenty of people with english as a second language are better at spelling than 90% of native english speakers

“kats can you stop being a pretentious asshole” no. next question

“kats this is a really rude thing to say” i am aware. not my fault you never learned how to spell. if you’re embarrassed that’s not my problem just go teach yourself the correct forms of “your” and “you’re” for the love of fuck

#this is about everyone who tries to come up with a solid debate against me #and then uses the wrong form of a word #it automatically makes me go “okay you don’t know what you’re talking about” so y’know #kats rants #lol #if you’re offended by this i’d say i’m sorry but i’m not #yes everyone has different levels of whatever #no i don’t take that as an excuse #bye

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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I’m going to say this off anon, because fuck it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with disliking someone’s work. Like I fucking hated The Godfather and as such, I will never watch it again.

Does that mean that the work is bad? No. Does that mean it doesn’t deserve praise from people who do enjoy it? No, absolutely not.

People can like and dislike the stuff you write. I am fully aware that the stuff I write is not for everyone so someone on anon shouldn’t be villainized for not liking a popular writer. Now, if they had said “I routinely send hate messages to *insert writer* for fun and I like the attention” then you can freak out.

But they didn’t. They fully admitted that they don’t interact and try to keep their head down when that writer’s stuff comes around. As is their right because it isn’t something they like.

And. Leave Leah the fuck out of it. She opened up her anons for people to tell secrets that were weighing on them or just little things that they wanted to tell someone. Hell, even I put something in. She isn’t being petty for engaging or for having her own opinions, so sit the fuck down you pretentious motherfucker.

Some of y’all forget that you can dislike shit and be normal about it. I won’t be shy in saying that there are some people here who are absolutely amazing, but their works just aren’t my cup of tea. Does that mean I love them any less? Of course not. I support them in a different way.

Be nice to each other, jeez. Somehow it takes more work to be a cunt than it does to just be nice.

Okay lol I’m done now. Sorry for the long ass message Leah. I love you

- Fern 🌿

This is so spot on. I don’t have much to add to it. I think the actual ask definitely deserves the attention so I’m going to leave it at this:

You can dislike things/people and still be a good person.

#fern ✨

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skinnypaleangryperson · 5 months

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As thrilled as I am that they finally acknowledged to the whole Diane thing again, as a hopeless romantic and someone who is generally a pretentious romantic and likes storytelling in general and is only watching this show mainly for Rick's character, I will say that it felt a little bit spread out this episode to bring up Diane again without any actual progression in the aspect of her.

I know that my opinion doesn't count for s***, but I feel like going forward they probably shouldn't bring up the whole Diane thing again unless they're actually going to show her again (as a living character) or actually progress the "Rick grieving over his wife" thing beyond just that, unless it's just in small little hints or gags are things like that.

It's an absolutely incredible part of the show, and of Rick's character, but this is about the fourth episode (?) or so that we've had that has been playing and dangling around the whole "sad old misunderstood man who only wants his dead wife back" as the same concept of just being rolled around slightly differently every time. It's starting to feel a little bit overdone and spread out. I really love the way that they did the end monologue though with the music and Rick just staring around bleakly, that really paid off the whole episode (obviously).

But generally speaking, unless they're actually going to expand on the "Diane being dead thing", it's probably better to just put it to rest at this point, lol. Obviously just my own bitter opinion and I'm aware of that. But I think this show has a potential for a lot of really incredible and "fresh" storytelling for the episodes or seasons that it has left, and I feel like (and this is coming from someone that really really loves plots like this) the whole "Rick grieving over his dead wife thing" has kind of reached its stagnance at this point in the storytelling of Rick and Morty unless they're going to progression in some way, or add on new information or events or development, etc. Such as.... I don't know, Rick finding the device that wipped out Diane and managing to get her back somehow? 😘🤤😉

(and this is a coded statement that I would love if they did do that, but to keep doing callbacks about something that we already learned about literal years ago at this point-getting a little bit worn out 💕🤡)

#rick and morty #I'm not even sure why I'm making this post because I'm not usually the kind of person and that makes criticizing posts #The world is already negative and analytical without taking it over to something as innocent as art #I'm just extremely and excessively sad and bored and lonely tonight and looking for a distraction

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