#i am in a pretentious off every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jhuzen · 11 months

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what do you mean it’s been a whole week since i said i’d post this? pretty sure today is still tonight. anyway, this is based on this godly ask! this is… extra long. i’m sorry i got carried away 😭 it’s honestly going to be a lot longer if i didn’t cut out some scenarios. jadiksodc.

𖦹 nsfw, top reader, virgin haitham i literally have no idea what else to say.

“Have you ever even gotten laid?”

Alhaitham’s eyes stopped at the last sentence of another book he’s buried his nose into. The night was quiet — save for the sounds of the burning embers from the campfire as well as the snores of one tiny fairy that laid beside you. The nights are cold in the desert, but it sure was enough to keep him awake. He’s been searching for ways to solve the problem with the suspicious Grand Sage, and you were kind enough to help.

You were revered across all lands apparently — even reaching the isolated Inazuma before the vast Sumeru in the first place. And while Alhaitham has every confidence in his own knowledge and meticulously calculated strategies in solving problems, he wasn’t one to take away credit from you, who protected him and fended off any other Eremites that tried to cut off his plan.

He found you reserved, keeping to yourself while the tiny floating chatterbox spoke for you like she was your advisor. You did find yourself talking to him at times, but most of it was either your agreements in his plans, your little snide remarks when he did something that both you and your flying companion considered as remotely pretentious. And quite frankly, he did not want to expend any form of effort to defend himself. If that’s how he came across to you, then so be it.

However, even with the limited time that he’s known you, he never pegged you for someone this… sheer.

In fact, he never expected it so much that he even did his own version of a double take, looking up at you with eyes that brimmed with curiosity and slight surprise. And yet, there you were, casually polishing your sword so diligently, tongue sticking out in determination with your brows furrowed in concentration.

Like you never asked him such a… question.

The scribe had half a mind to ignore your sudden query — chalk it up into a auditory hallucination and continue on with his reading. But his mind knew better; that if he left it at that, he would be perturbed until the end of his days, and Alhaitham is a practical man, meaning he’d rather get the trouble you suddenly placed on him out of the way than go through such feelings.

“Pardon?”

“Hm?”

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes, were you now planning to pretend like you never asked the question in the first place? He cleared his throat, “You said something. And I think I misheard. Care to repeat?”

Your gaze met his before blinking, “Oh. I was just asking if you’ve even ever gotten laid in the first place,” you laughed while you turned back to your well-groomed sword, continuing to polish it with refined movements. “Sorry, it’s an out of the line question, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he curtly replied, but even he could not extinguish the sudden curiosity that rose from him. “Though why even ask me that question seeing that you’re fully aware the invasive nature of it in the first place? What spurred this on?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing much, really. It’s just that you’re good looking but you seem to be the type to not… invest your time in those activities.” Alhaitham wonders where all that cutthroat honesty goes every time you go radio silent within the last few days, barely letting out a peep to talk to anyone while Paimon did the talking for you.

Alhaitham scoffed nonetheless. It was such a shallow reason for you to ask that. Surely pure aesthetics is not a prerequisite to have sex. “Is it a requirement to engage in such activities if I am pleasing to look at?”

Your lips turned up in a cheeky smile as you tore your eyes away from your blade, looking up at the stoic scribe with a mischievous mirth glinting through your eyes, “Well. You eat with your eyes too, right?”

A laugh escapes from your system when Alhaitham instantly made a face. He’s not stupid (far from it really, and the entire Akademiya knows) — he knows the preconceived notions to these play of words. He reeled back at the innuendo, partly taken aback. Just what on earth have you been thinking despite your persistent silence to come up with something as crude as that?

He composed himself, eyes averting from yours and looking back down to resume his reading; but his mind was far from the focus he always maintained when occupied with books.

Alhaitham chewed on his bottom lip discreetly before giving an answer he deemed relatively satisfactory, “…I have no interest for such things. And don’t things like these need to have prior connection in the first place? I’d rather not have attachments to someone. It’s far too bothersome.”

“Oh so that’s why,” you hummed, this time your attention fixated in refining your sword handle. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt to experience new things. And I can even help you. No strings attached.” You offered in a light jest, followed by a chuckle after.

It was a joke offer, of course. You of all people knew that when Alhaitham didn’t want something, he will steer clear from it. However, you only found him remotely interesting because he was so bloody shady in the first place. He was supposed to be an honorable scribe, being held at such a high position, and yet he was dubious enough to even make you buy forbidden cans of knowledges, and even with the partnership you’ve got going on now, you’d find yourself unable to sleep so freely without so much as expecting him to suddenly jump on you.

You simply found him interesting. And true to your love language (that your little traveling companion is often the recipient of), you couldn’t help but tease him, a little prying at something as intimate and private as his sex life (which you now knew to be nonexistent). Just a little jest to mess with him for your entertainment. That’s all.

However Alhaitham had much different perception to your lighthearted teasing. You… were offering him something so intimate as sex with no strings attached. While anyone with a right mind could quickly brush it off as a mere joke with no promises — Alhaitham was quick to entertain the thought of doing it with you without having to suffer the consequences of being in a relationship with someone.

No strings attached, huh. He pursed his lips, eyebrows knitting a little as he mulled over what seems to be an option (though there never was as it was only a joke from your end).

The thought enticed him. Of course, he was doing this for academic purposes and to satisfy the now insatiable curiosity that you placed upon him like an irreversible curse with one specific cure.

He stole a glance from where you sat as he recalled the many times you’ve managed to smooth talk your way into certain situations back in Port Ormos. Exuding confidence and sharp wit, along with a charming face that no one can say no to — also with your… beliefs earlier, Alhaitham was quick to deduce that you are a man whose had plenty of experience in sex. You were most definitely the kind to frolic around with anyone that suits your fancy, especially with how easily you offered to help him like it’s a simple favor from a colleague and nothing more.

The silence that engulfed your group (again, subtracting the snores from Paimon) soon broke when Alhaitham decided to go head in for the kill.

“Okay.”

“What?”

There was a sense of satisfaction that flooded his system when you looked up with a confused look on your pretty face.

Alhaitham cooly brushed off the flustering feeling that slowly nestled into the pits of his stomach, his stomach knotting in anticipation at the thought of taking you up on your generous little offer, “I agree to what you’re offering,” he refused to look at you, continuing to read the words that were barely coherent in his mind now, trying to look as composed as possible. “Just to satisfy certain questions from this sort of activity of course.”

You tilted your head at him, cocking an eyebrow, “Right… so you want to have sex?”

He coughed, “For research purposes.”

“If I had a mora for every time I heard that excuse, I wouldn’t worry about Paimon’s endless appetite by now,” you laughed. “But knowing you, you’re probably telling the truth.”

You were met with a silence from the scribe. Make no mistake however, he was stewing in absolute embarrassment — only glad that his headphones were able to cover up his ears that are sure to be burning up a bright red hue.

“…Are we doing it now?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, “Absolutely not. We have a mission, traveler. And doing such a thing outside… is sure to provide a less than stellar experience.”

You huffed out a laugh before stabbing your blade on the ground, “Man, you really are a virgin. And you have no idea how many freaks are out there that can do it outside even in the midst of a thunderstorm.” It was an exaggeration, but the look of mortification that was plastered on Alhaitham’s usually unfazed face was all the more entertaining. “Anyway, if you’re really serious, then who am I to back out? We’ll finish up this mission quick and then you can ring me up any time.”

Alhaitham could only give a strained nod before finally finding the words on his pocketbook a little more understandable as his mind cleared.

The last grueling days was nothing short of eventful, to say the least. You were somehow able to pull off in fighting an all too big of a god’s body with the vengeful puppet inside. You freed Nahida too, kicked Azar off of his position and destroyed the beloved Akasha that the people of Sumeru found themselves completely dependent on. It was like a blur, with you constantly on the run to ensure that every plan works in your favor, though you weren’t one to take away from Cyno and the rest — with their dutiful cooperation.

And now, you were hailed as a hero in Sumeru much like your past adventures in the last three nations, awarded as Buer’s first Sage added in the roster of your many, many titles. You were celebrated around and all you’ve ever wanted was to go inside your beloved teapot and sleep.

And that you did.

The next days were spent in leisure around Sumeru, getting along with anyone in the vicinity, often offered goods for gratitude. Paimon accepted every single food and you soon found yourself in need to build another display bedside table to decorate with trinkets you’ve received. It was relatively normal for you at least.

And the same could be said for Alhaitham. He can finally do his job with little to no inconvenience now that Azar and his corrupted lackeys aren’t around, banished off to the forests to do whatever is needed to compensate for their misgivings. The boring but doable work on a high pay returned and Alhaitham was at peace.

Up until Lesser Lord Kusanali came to his office, and with the tiny pitter patter of her feet against the cold floors of Akademiya, she walked to his desk with an expectant smile plastered on her adorable face.

Suddenly, Alhaitham was the Acting Grand Sage.

Great. More work for a considerably smaller increase in pay. How… productive and worth it.

And perhaps, that’s how you landed yourself in the confines of Alhaitham’s home in the dead of the night — at his request. His roommate was off and a few days prior after suddenly getting dragged into assisting him in catching another unhinged research with far too much talent yet little intent in seeing the bigger picture, he had asked you to come meet him at night. And he made it very clear to you that you come alone.

You were already aware of the Acting Grand Sage’s insinuation at this point. You’ve been through enough worlds and mingled with enough people to know the universal sign that is “come here alone tonight”.

Well, either you get laid, or… you will be laid in a coffin the next day.

Now here you sat, smiling a little as you sipped some water, watching Alhaitham dry off the droplets of water from his hair after a late night shower. You opted to look over some files strewn across the table to entertain yourself, trying to make sense of any of his work. Judging from the complicated nature of said paperwork, you figured he was already raring for some release. Or at the very least, a change of pace in learning something new other than the onslaught of mad researchers from Akademiya causing trouble for him to fix.

“I have some terms,” Alhaitham suddenly voiced out, pulling you out of your trance as you looked at him inquisitively. You nodded, letting him go on. “Nobody gets to hear a word of what will transpire tonight.”

“…I don’t think I even want anyone to know in the first place.”

He nodded before walking back to some shelves, “Also,” he grabbed a book and tossed it on the table, perfectly sliding towards you with the cover face up. “I’ve done some reading just to know what to expect.”

You huffed out a breath, disguising a genuinely amused laughter. Couldn’t your one night stand get any cuter? He wasn’t even trying too. He was so earnest and so serious, it was hard not to devour him right then and there. You placed your glass of water down the table sauntering up to him, grabbing the lecherous book that he apparently used to come into the battle prepared.

Alhaitham’s eyes widened as you wasted no time in closing the gap. His ears effectively reddening in a split second when he could feel your crotch rub up against his from the sheer proximity that you and the scribe had. There was even barely any room to breathe in the first place. His lips quivered a little as he looked to the side, avoiding your piercing gaze.

You tapped the corner of the book’s spine on his lips, while yours turned up in a sly grin, “Cast aside any expectation that this book have taught you, smart guy. I believe there is merit in learning from experience.” You tossed the book back as your lips latched onto the skin of his neck. You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent of his body wash. You could feel and hear him shiver from just that action alone, spurring you on to be bolder.

Of course Alhaitham knows that experience is a far better teacher than anything else. But how could he learn anything when the experience itself is detrimental to his sanity as he tried to comprehend your ministrations, from the way your hands were quick to attach themselves onto his narrow waist, your lips slowly mapping and conquering every inch of the skin of his neck, abused with bites that left bruises darker than the decorative rugs in his home.

You pulled away and he was left completely red, you leaned back to admire the work you’ve done on his neck and his collarbone, adorned with splotches of red from the abuse of your mouth.

But before Alhaitham could even recover, you went back in, but this time with your lips on his, “Try to keep up, smart guy. Here’s a crash course on how to kiss someone.”

Alhaitham could barely breathe, but even in the sweet suffocation, he tried to keep up with your lips. You made a mess out of him, your mischievous tongue dragging from the inside of his mouth to his lips to wet them. His jaw hurt and he was out of sorts, with drool dripping down to his chin while you sucked on his tongue, your hands under around his chin to keep him in place. He could only grab onto your shoulders, fingers squeezing against your flesh so tight while he closed his eyes shut, his chest heaving from the breathlessness when you refused to let up on him.

It was already dizzying — he knew you were aggressive on the battlefield, but had he known that you would be like this too, a little warning would’ve been nice.

And before he knew it, still with your lips latched onto his, he started to respond to your advances. Miraculously even with his clouded mind with that lusty haze, he was able to learn from your little techniques, kissing back with need and urgency, and you gladly welcomed him, letting him bite your lip as a test, return the favor as he sloppily sucked your tongue off with the charm of an inexperienced kisser.

It was a mess as you and him stumbled over to the his bedroom, with poor Alhaitham barely noticing until his back landed on the soft mattress of his bed. His eyes were glossed over, clearly in a daze as you pulled away, chuckling at the sight of the infamous stoic scribe who normally looks so put together come undone and become a complete mess with just a simple make out session.

You swiped a thumb over his wet lips, dragging it across his cheek and watched in delight when he slowly gained a bit of clarity.

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet, ‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham only scoffed, “You kiss so aggressively. A warning would’ve sufficed.”

“Aw c’mon. It’s just a little warmup,” you tugged into the hem of his shirt and he quickly got the hint, helping you take them off. You only watched in fascination as his body came into view. That tight shirt that he always wore doesn’t do his body justice. He was sculpted so perfectly that even you had to pause for a second to take in his beauty.

The scribe wasn’t fond of your ogling however, “…What?”

“Nothing… it’s just…” you couldn’t even resist the way your hands immediately gravitated towards his chest, palms flat against his pecs before steadily moving them to yours, comparing your sizes. “…Wow. You’re bigger than I am.”

“Do I get a trophy for that then?” Alhaitham quipped without missing a beat.

Unfortunately for him, you were quick-witted, cruel, and knew how to show someone a good time. And you gladly indulged his little jest as you bent down, cupping a hand around one chest, thumbing at his hardening nipple while you gave soft kitten licks on his other swollen bud. An electric feeling jolts through Alhaitham’s system and he could feel himself twitch against the restricting fabric of his pants.

You smirked against his skin, teeth grazing his sensitive nipple, making him jolt and grab onto the back of your head. You raised yourself, watching unabashed while Alhaitham tried to cover up his reddening face. Either this situation was embarrassing enough on it’s own or perhaps he was embarrassed that he liked what you did.

“D-Don’t… look at me like that,” came Alhaitham’s weak protest, voice shaking as he tried to avert his gaze.

“Getting all shy now?” You tilted your head, looking at him with so much amusement. You did not have an ounce of regret for offering jokingly in the first place. To see the hardheaded scribe fold like a shy maiden was something you never knew you needed. “Come now, Alhaitham, it’s not something to be ashamed about. Focus up, buddy. You said this is for research.”

“Quit… i— ah~! Quit it—!” He moaned in between hisses as you shifted your position, with one knee pressing up against his erection with much pressure. It was as if the soft spoken yet courageous hero revered across the lands suddenly disappeared — replaced by this mischievous teasing deviant that toyed with him so shamelessly.

“You make it so easy to tease you,” your hands slowly dragged themselves to the waistband of his pants, tugging at the band and snapping it against his skin. “Is this why our scribe— oh, sorry, our Grand Sage has to keep that no nonsense facade? So they won’t know that you’re just an adorable little boy?”

He clutched onto your wrists that threatened to free his cock from its constraint, “It’s Acting Grand Sage… and it’s not a facade— are you always this chatty when having sex with someone?”

“I’m just trying to get to know you,” you flashed him a grin and his grip on you slowly loosened, a wordless green light to finally see all of him. You obliged his little permission, tugging down his pants and stripping them off of him with little effort. Alhaitham made a subconscious effort of trying to shield himself from your prying eyes — never had he felt this vulnerable before, he could feel his entire body heat up just from the way you looked at him.

Meanwhile you were admiring every groove and curve that sculpted itself into this man’s body. You would most definitely be the envy of the entire Sumeru City had they known that you were the first man to have ever seen Alhaitham this way. Suddenly, the Acting Grand Sage’s term of not wanting anyone else to know about this engagement seemed so tempting to break.

You positioned yourself in between his legs, keeping them apart when Alhaitham so much as tried to close his legs on instinct, you cupped a hand around the base of his cock and relished in the tiny little yelp that left Alhaitham’s mouth, his back arching up in surprise.

“Already so hard, you truly are enjoying this,” you taunt, as if you weren’t feeling the same uncomfortable feeling in your tightening pants. With one hand, you dug into the pocket of your trousers, bringing out a packet of slime condensate and tearing it open, squeezing a handful on your fingers. “I think you know what this is for.”

Alhaitham only nodded, suddenly meek as the insinuation made its presence known. He read a lot for the sake of satiating the gnawing anticipation within him the moment he agreed with your little offer. Alhaitham, after all, never did nurture the bad habit of coming into a situation completely clueless and in the dark. But there was something far more dizzying at the feeling of your touches that could make him feverish, overtaking his senses like a fever dream that he could feel the whole way.

He shivered as your fingers pressed against his rim, drenched in cold lubrication. He lifted his hips out of instinct, his body slowly being compliant to your actions, readily following your bold lead. You took note of his actions, watching the way his chest heaved up in a frantic pace, clearly overwhelmed in anticipation.

“Try to relax,” you ought to soothe his anxieties. Sex isn’t something to be afraid of, after all. It’s meant to be enjoyed by the parties involved. He only nodded, a little strained but it was enough.

An uncharacteristic wail leaves Alhaitham’s mouth as you plunged two fingers inside him. He was warm, his walls already clenching around your digits that were barely even halfway inside. He shifted, hips wriggling at the discomfort. You distracted him from the sensation and slowly worked your other hand around his erection, pumping at a gentle pace.

Alhaitham felt breathless, the haze in his mind continuing to muddle any form of coherent thought that he tried to make. He whimpered quietly as the embarrassment slowly flooded in. He could barely gather himself as you’re jerking him off while fucking him with your fingers, any sense of awareness leaving him bit by bit, replaced with the unencumbered lust that you were holding over him with your ministrations.

“Feels good?” Your words barely registered in his usually sharp mind. He nodded frantically, hands clutching the sheets underneath him. It felt all too good, with your precise hands, from the way you prod around his gummy walls to how you teasingly thumb at the slit of his cockhead, it was an overwhelming pleasure that Alhaitham was suddenly being exposed to.

You weren’t any better. Who knew Alhaitham could look so erotic, his body almost close into going in an autopilot as he responded to your touch with little to no shame. The whimpers and cries that echoed in the room were music to your ears, a blessing to indulge yourself in.

It was hard to hold yourself back from just fucking him into oblivion, and your sentiments wee shared as another cry left Alhaitham.

“M-More~” he whined, completely insatiable as he yearned for something bigger. Your fingers weren’t enough. He needs to feel full, something that could stretch him out until he could barely think. He opened his eyes, bleary with lust and carnal need in comparison to yours that were gleaming with concentration and hunger. “M-More please~” he parroted, unable to find any more words to beg you.

You could feel any form of restraint leaving you as his pleading reached you, already shooting straight down to your dick that twitched in anticipation and raw excitement. You immediately pulled your fingers away, shivering at the moan that you drew out of the man underneath you. Your hands quickly worked to free your own cock, hard and throbbing as it slapped against your stomach. There was a sense of satisfaction that washed over you at the way Alhaitham’s eyes grew wide when he saw you, like a cold water drenching him and pulling him back down to reality.

“Is… that even going to fit?” Alhaitham’s sudden reluctance was all the more endearing, making you laugh.

“I prepared you, didn’t I? But hey, the confidence solely lies on you. If you think you can’t handle it, best we quit ahead.”

He swallowed a lump down his throat before looking at you with a much more determined gaze, “I— N-No… I need to see it through.”

“You can hold my hand if you want,” you offered, lending out your own hand. Normally, Alhaitham would swat it away but did otherwise as he held yours, feeling feverish all of a sudden at the intimacy.

He could feel himself shrink as you positioned yourself in between his legs, towering over him with a reassuring smile. His thighs quivered around you while you lined yourself up in his entrance. He shuddered as your cockhead slowly rubbed up against his entrance, making him writhe in anticipation. Alhaitham met your gaze, suddenly considerate in contrast to your teasing self earlier.

“Don’t think too much of it,” you reassured him one last time. “Just ride out everything that you’re feeling.” You said and he nodded, soaking up every word of yours as he took a deep breath.

Alhaitham jolts at the sudden intrusive feeling once you ease yourself inside him inch by inch. He was quick to clench around your cock and you stopped, heaving a shaky sigh as the feeling of his warm walls around you bring you complete and utter bliss.

“Fuck… so tight, ‘Haitham,” you breathed out, a pleased hiss from your lips with every pulsating clench his walls made around your cock.

The scribe could barely process the feeling as he slowly took you in, his hole squeezing your length while you continued to push inside until you’re buried to the hilt. His hand squeezed around yours tightly as he tried to take in your words earlier and ride out any form of sensation that racked through his body. He could already feel the numbing pleasure rake in his system as the overwhelming sensation continued to eat away at his sensibilities.

You stilled yourself as you watched every expression Alhaitham’s pretty face contorted into. You only swept away his fringe away from his forehead that’s already dotted with beads of sweat and continued to observe him. You’ve never been this considerate when it comes to fucking someone, but given the fact that Alhaitham was just far too adorable, you made a conscious effort to be more gentle in his first time.

It didn’t take long before Alhaitham slowly rolled his hips, in terrible need for some more friction, “Y-You can move…” he stammered, still with his hand clutching onto yours so tightly.

You grinned a little before drawing your hips back and giving a testing thrust, pushing out a choked moan from the scribe, to which you greedily indulged in. Leaning in, you only gave a quick kiss on the shell of his ear before whispering;

“Don’t fall in love now.”

Alhaitham merely scoffed at your little taunt.

As if he would.

Miscalculations are rare in Alhaitham’s lifetime. Often times he’s mapped out every single action to consider to ensure a smooth sailing plan that he has to execute. Failure was a rare occurrence in the scribe— sorry, the Acting Grand Sage’s roster. He has yet to achieve a failure so spectacular that it puts his roommate to shame.

However, the way his eyes lingered on your form while you went about your day while you extended your stay in Sumeru was quick to tell him that the very idea of a miscalculation may not be so far-fetched in the first place.

And he absolutely loathed it.

It had been days since his… little research that you aided him in. Days since he felt the wonderful bliss of the mind numbing pleasure that only left his mind completely broken and incoherent. Days since he could feel the way your hands roamed around with such preciseness that every touch you left on him left him completely breathless. It had been days.

So then why? Why does he feel the same exhilaration whenever you were in the vicinity?

Why could he not push the thoughts of that night in the back of his mind? It was a skill he mastered that procured his unbothered persona. But the memories persisted like a parasite, latching onto his poor mind as it replayed the same night over and over again;

“H-Hah~! T-Too much already—!” Poor Alhaitham slurred, words barely able to convey while he held onto your hand for dear life, his eyes rolling at the back of his head while you pounded into him without an ounce of mercy. The bed creaked so violently under your movements, and his body shook in overstimulation.

“Just a little more, baby boy, one more, yeah?” You licked your lips hungrily, a predatory gaze flashing through your eyes as you devoured your prey.

Alhaitham winced as he slowly arched his back, suddenly feeling restless in his usual seat outside of Puspa café. Of all places, why couldn’t you have decided to chat with the nearby vendors. Where he can hear you and bury his mind into a delusion of bliss after hearing those sinful sounds from you when you bedded him that night. It was torture.

It was like a siren’s call, beckoning for him to give into his temptation. Except it was an excruciating thing to experience, drowning in that voice of yours that he could no longer hear normally.

“Oh! Isn’t that Alhaitham there?” He had to hide another grimace as the familiar shrill voice of your traveling companion echoed.

“So it is, let’s go say hi,” you smiled while you walked over to him, inviting yourself in without an ounce of embarrassment, like you didn’t make a mess out of him that particular night. “Been awhile.”

He could only stiffly nod before turning back to his book, “Mhm.”

“Yeesh! You’re just as cold as always! Hmph! Well, whatever. Paimon is going to get some food for herself.”

And just like that, there was silence in both of your company.

“Hey, you look really tense,” you frowned in concern and Alhaitham only continued to read into his book with an absent concentration that only served him to read the first lines of the paragraph over and over again. “I didn’t scare you now, did I?”

Alhaitham shuddered as the feeling of your touch slowly took over when your hands grazed by his shoulder in an attempt to console him. And the hauntingly addicting touches of yours continued to resurface in his mind.

A wanton squeal escapes Alhaitham as your fingers dug deep into the skin of his waist. He had little to no escape with the way you held him, hands completely sinking into his supple flesh to keep him in place. There was a rush of excitement that flooded Alhaitham’s system when you took hold of him in such a manner — possessive and almost desperate.

His already spent dick twitched at the notion, the very idea of you being all over him and wanting no one else but him. He wanted you to feel the same feeling that slowly poisoned his thoughts — that you would enjoy him just as much as he was enjoying you being so deep inside him.

He panted, short huffs leaving his wet lips that you vigorously licked, kissed, and bit until the both of you could taste his blood. He was a mess, from the marks on his collar down to the way even your fingertips made their bruising mark when you manhandled him.

Suddenly those touches burned through his skin, like you left them there just seconds ago. He was slowly feeling feverish. He could still remember which parts of him you touched, the way the uncomfortable feeling of your grip pressing against his soft skin was enough to get him on a state of frenzy.

You were far too intoxicating.

And without even an ounce of warning, he was suddenly met with your skeptic expression, clear as a day as you drew yourself nearer to his side, with your face a mere inch away from his. He could feel your even breathing, and could see those heavenly eyes of yours that peered through your thick lashes as you continued to put him on the spot with your own form of scrutiny.

“Tell me the truth, I didn’t scare you away from what happened nights ago, did I?”

He resisted the urge to swallow thickly — you may not be as smart as he is, but you were perceptive, already proven by the mere fact that you were quick to guess that his strange actions towards you did indeed stem from that amorous engagement you and him explored. Unable to focus on your minuscule concern, his gaze drifted down to your lips that formed into a frown, with your bottom lip jutting out a little in a very subtle pout.

Those lips. That mouth that often spoke of every proclamation and promise to aid whoever was in need of help, no matter how annoyingly minuscule the requests are.

His ears burned under his noise-cancelling headphones, finding himself completely unable to shut out the loud thrumming of his heart against his chest.

Who would’ve thought that mouth of yours were just as capable of delving into something incredibly lewd — that mouth that spoke valor suddenly speaking in the most flustering taunts that drove him over the edge.

Sobs spilled out from Alhaitham’s quivering lips, tears already flooding his ducts while you rutted into him like a dog in heat. The desperation in your thrusts were pushing up against his nearing release as your cock continued to abuse his prostate.

The overwhelming pleasure didn’t help as you busied yourself on his chest. You couldn’t leave it alone, your mouth already latching onto one of his sensitive and perky buds. Your tongue swirled against his swollen nipple and tore out another loud moan from the scribe. He was helpless against your ministrations. He could feel his stomach stir despite the fact that he was so sure he couldn’t cum anymore.

His hand shakily raked through the back of your head, biting his lip to keep himself composed.

You swiped your tongue against his nipple, looking up at him with a devious smirk, “Are you sure nothing’s coming out of these?”

“‘M… not a woman—” he protests in a weak voice, raspy from all the screams you drew out of him from coaxing orgasm after orgasm from him. “S-Stop saying that…”

“Getting embarrassed again?” You grinned, drawing your hips before snapping back into him, making him whine from the raw pleasure. “Aren’t you just the cutest~”

He isn’t. He’s far from such a description. Alhaitham knows that well. He was the intimidating figure of Akademiya, with his unbothered stoicism that could leave anyone scampering without the intention of screwing him over in the first place. But he hates how you’ve rendered him completely useless with just your words and subtle touches that quickly disarmed his guard that he put up several times already.

He loathes the mere fact that he couldn’t get you out of his head. Surely not all people that go through one night stands invoke such feelings of warm fondness towards someone they aren’t meant to be attached to. He’s not supposed to feel flustered just at the mere sight of you. He’s not supposed to feel vulnerable with your smiles. And he’s not supposed to feel the tempting submission with every touch you left on his body.

Alhaitham was quick to push your face away before running a hand through his own with a begrudging sigh, “…I am currently undergoing through a crisis. Please let me acquire some space for a good few minutes.”

He hates your dichotomy — from your ridiculously odious attitude when you fucked him, to your sudden gentleness when you were done and even the subsequent days after that.

You nodded in understanding (something he’d grown to fondly hate as well) with a patient smile, “Of course. How ‘bout I go get us some baklava? My treat.”

Your offer was oddly reminiscent of your aftercare too.

“Hope you can forgive the roughness. It’s your first time too,” he paid no heed to your apology. In fact, you’ve nothing to apologize for when you’ve granted him such a good fuck for his first time. He only relished in the feeling of your ghostly kisses against the bruises you made on him. “I’ll go get you some water. Need anything else?”

He was already dozing off by then.

He waved you off, more than eager to get you out of the way as the realizations slowly linked themselves in his constantly running mind.

Alhaitham dragged a hand over his face, repressing the urge to groan when he remembered your little taunt before this all happened.

“Don’t fall in love now.”

And damn it did he fall hard.

#i am an idiot #but a simp #anyway #i am very late #but heeeeyyyy better late than never 😭#genshin impact x male reader #alhaitham x male reader #sub genshin impact #sub alhaitham #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #jhuzen’s shameless filth #there’s an hsr post i’m posting minutes after this #tall 2d husbands go brrrr in my gay little head

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atalienart · 4 months

Text

Does Al also make you paranoid?

Look at this picture. Is it art or is it an Al generated image? Look at this text. Is this useful piece of information or Al gibberish? Look at this video? Is this real or fake?

I stare at drawings, analysing every line, I go through people's social media to see if they're artists or thieves. I look for references and take a close look at every image because I don't want to reference distorted reality. I show someone a video of snow falling somewhere and instead of "look how beautiful" I go "do you think this exists?" and I read something and then give up recognising dry like a summer desert language of a robot. I hate it here.

Today's no different. I see a picture that looks kinda nice but I immediately notice there's something wrong with it. I go to the source and there's more. Every day the person adds a new fully finished piece. Under every piece people (because they can sense something's off) ask the owner of the account what medium he uses. The answer is: "I've been using the computer to create my art since 1980, and then I print it with a vintage ink on my epson printer". The fuck? Sounds like the printer does more work that he does on the computer. They guy's old, I give him the benefit of the doubt, his bio says he's a curator of art in some institute. One of the commenters says he posts regularly and his "style" didn't change much. I go through his feed. In fact his "style" changes a lot. But oh, most of the images he posts belong to other people who have their own exhibitions and no online presence, and it's all Al shit, clear as day. I scroll down and it turns out the guy used to be into abstract art, there's tons of it before Al started to ruin everything. In another life I'd scroll past that pretentious fuck without losing 12 minutes of my life. I hate it here. I see another artist and they seem legit but even when I see their art with all the human imperfections I can't shake the feeling they reference Al images. I see their process video but I cannot tell if they're just new to digital art and they use traditional methods or it's a bit shady. Am I paranoid or their video is just recorded that way, because I've already seen the erasing liars and pretending idiots.

It's exhausting. Constant vigilance! I don't want to waste my time on something people didn't bother to spend their time creating. They don't care about their thing, why should I?

#jabbernaty #before anyone attacks #no I don't think abstract art is pretentious #the guy who pretends he doesn't use Al and promotes other thieves calling himself a curator of art definitely is #with his antique ink and epson printer #am I too negative lately? perhaps #I need a hug or something idk

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suzukiblu · 6 months

Text

Day thirteen of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Tim gets to the Gotham mall Tim Drake is meeting Superboy at fifteen minutes early because on-time is late, and is entirely unsurprised to have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up. Actually, if anything he’s surprised to only have to wait twenty minutes for Kon to show up.

“Sorry I’m late. You will not believe this, but there was literally a cat stuck in a tree,” Kon says with a sheepish, guilty grin as he lands right next to him in full costume like that’s a perfectly normal thing to do, especially in Gotham. Tim is very glad he decided to wait in one of the security cameras’ more out-of-the-way blind spots.

“I’m surprised the cat let you save it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at him. It is Gotham, after all.

“He did not,” Kon says, making a face. “He tried to claw my eyes out and then jumped off my head and down into his owner’s arms, who proceeded to ask me why I thought I was too good to wear body armor.”

“Well, why do you?” Tim asks, feeling a bit of quiet pride on behalf of his city. Gothamites have priorities.

“Because anything that could hit me hard enough that I’d need body armor for it would trash the body armor anyway,” Kon replies matter-of-factly, gesturing illustratively at himself. “TTK only works on skintight clothes. Like, I did not go for Spandex as a fashion choice, it’s because anything else would shred right off me in an actual fight.”

Tim feels his own eyes glaze over.

“Uh-huh,” he manages vaguely.

“Also I don’t know where I’d get body armor stronger than I already am anyway,” Kon says. “Cadmus doesn’t have any and that’s pretty much my whole supply chain, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Tim manages again, still attempting to reboot his brain. “Shred right off, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kon says with a shrug. “It’s not exactly dignified, fighting crime naked.”

“. . . uh-huh.”

Tim blinks a few times. Blinks again. Then he shakes his head and forces the mental reboot.

“First things first, are you hungry?” he asks. “There’s a pretzel place and a smoothie shop right over there, or we could just hit the food court.”

“I could eat,” Kon says with another shrug. “I mean, who doesn’t appreciate a good smoothie?”

“Well, don’t get your hopes up, Gotham smoothies are fine but unfortunately use a lot more frozen fruit than Metropolis ones,” Tim says, which is the one and only thing he will ever hear said against Gotham.

“Isn’t frozen better anyway?” Kon asks, wrinkling his nose. “Fresh fruit makes it kinda watery sometimes. Frozen it comes out thicker and stuff.”

Okay, well, Tim is apparently talking to someone who knows a lot more about smoothie-making than he does. Note to self. Also, what an incredibly weird thing for Kon to know. Like, even weirder than the caffeine.

“Does it?” he says. “I just always hear fresh is better than frozen.”

“From pretentious snobs who can grocery shop every day, I bet,” Kon snorts, rolling his eyes. Which . . . is a fair and accurate assessment, admittedly. “And it’s a smoothie, not a juice bar. They’re supposed to be frozen, yeah?”

“Okay, well, in that case, guess we’re getting better-quality smoothies than I’d assumed,” Tim says.

“Spoiling me, huh, pretty boy?” Kon says with a smirk. Tim experiences every possible flavor of mortification under the sun and smirks back.

“If I wanted to spoil you, we’d be getting smoothies in California right now,” he says.

“I mean, we could,” Kon says with a snicker, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I appreciate the offer but that seems like a lot of travel time just for smoothies,” Tim says wryly. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”

“No, why?” Kon says, looking puzzled.

“. . . so we can hang out without anyone bothering you,” Tim says, wondering how that could've possibly not occurred to Kon. “Or interrupting the conversation every five minutes.”

Kon looks–odd, briefly. Tim isn't sure why.

“Hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly a scintillating conversationalist,” Kon says with a quick, forced smile. “You might want the interruptions.”

Tim thinks there might be a few more people to add to his supervillain vengeance hit list. Like, just possibly. Maybe.

“What's your size?” he asks.

“Beats me,” Kon says, looking a little odd again. “I don't wear civilian clothes like . . . ever, really. Like, swimsuits at the beach, sure, but that's about it.”

“What, never?” Tim asks, a little incredulous. Fucking–what is wrong with literally everyone Kon has ever known, for fuck's sake?

“I mean, I have,” Kon says with an awkward little shrug, keeping his hands in his pockets. “Just not all that often, so I dunno what my size or whatever is.”

“Okay,” Tim says, internally seething. Fucking Cadmus. Fucking Superman. Nobody ever even taught Kon how to fucking dress himself? How is that even a thing, for fuck's sake?! How is he supposed to ever get even five fucking minutes of being a normal person if he doesn't even own a goddamn pair of jeans?!

Maybe Tim could do the supervillain thing a little bit earlier than planned. Like. Possibly. As long as he keeps the majority of his villain-ing outside of Gotham, anyway. That'd work, right?

“Give me five minutes,” he says. “I'll be right back, just try to . . . uh, be . . . subtle, I guess.”

Kon looks at him. Looks down at his bright costume and striking leather jacket.

Tim despairs of his own capacity to do, like . . . anything. Ever.

“Just wait right here, okay?” he says.

“Okay?” Kon says skeptically. Tim takes the better part of valor and flees the scene. Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, he's back with a bag full of clothes that he eyeballed the sizes of that Kon hopefully won't hate, and that he also-hopefully eyeballed correctly enough. He's been learning how to do that more accurately, because you never know when you'll need to immediately get someone in new clothes in this line of work, but it's still a learning process.

Kon takes out the dark wash skinny jeans and bulky forest green turtleneck sweater that should cover his suit effectively enough, as long as he takes off his gloves and jacket and maybe a belt or two, and the outfit's maybe a little heavy for the weather, especially layered with his suit, but it is Gotham and their chances of getting randomly rained on are higher than zero, put it that way.

“You can get changed over there,” Tim says, pointing towards the nearest men's room.

“What is this?” Kon asks, puzzledly rubbing the sleeve of the sweater between his fingers.

“Cashmere,” Tim says, because obviously he sprung for cashmere. Kon wrinkles his nose, still looking puzzled.

“It’s really . . . soft,” he says, almost hesitant.

Tim doesn’t say “to be honest, I’ve always kind of assumed you’d appreciate nice textures more than most people, given the ‘tactle’ part of your telekinesis” and just shrugs.

“I’ll get you something else if you don’t like it,” he says, and Kon bites his lip. “Or if it doesn’t fit.”

“I mean–it’s just gonna get wrecked anyway. Like, I have a very developed history of wrecking things. Especially clothes,” he mutters, not looking up from the sweater. Which is, Tim cannot help but notice, not an “I don’t like it”. Actually, it’s just about the opposite of that, he can’t help but suspect.

“Then I’ll get you another one,” he says with a shrug. “It’s just a sweater. I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

“That’s very weird of you, man,” Kon says, rubbing the cashmere between his fingers again. “Like, you’re aware that buying superheroes sweaters is not a normal pastime, right?”

“I wasn’t really concerned with being not weird,” Tim replies reasonably.

“Uh,” Kon says, glancing at his face for a moment and then . . . pausing, briefly, before zipping off without actually saying whatever he was about to say.

Well, alright then.

Tim has several very weird reactions to the idea of Kon putting on clothes he picked out for him and immediately beats them all down because it is really not the time. Not even slightly is it the time.

But Kon is also currently putting on clothes he picked out for him.

Tim has possibly made a mistake or two here.

Or definitely. Definitely Tim has made a mistake here, now that he’s considering how soft and pettable that cashmere actually was and the fact that Kon is about to be wearing it and therefore also going to be very soft and pettable and–

Tim has made so many mistakes here.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #young just us #young justice #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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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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hey-kae · 2 years

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I am back! I haven’t been as active because of Uni work but your content has been keeping me going! Could I perhaps interest you in an idea of a wedding night fic with either Pierre or Charles? Sweet and smutty where they are just so obsessed with you and can’t believe they get to call you Mrs. Leclerc/Gasly? If youre too busy totally understand! Keep up your amazing content!!!

Princess Treatment

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x female reader

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, oral sex (female receiving and a hint male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, a hint of cockwarming.

a/n: i chose Pierre for this one cause i still haven’t written smut for him so there you go! I hope you like it. Feedback is always appreciated.

Your head was buzzing and your ears ringing as the day neared its end, a day that would forever be engraved in your memory and Pierre's, stored safely for the two of you to look back on years down the road as you grew old together.

Today, after years of dating, you got married to the love of your life and your best friend and you were over the moon about it. Similarly, Pierre was beaming, repeatedly calling you Mrs. Gasly because it "just sounds so fucking good."

The wedding turned out magical and all the stressing and planning seemed to have payed off since everything went perfectly smoothly. The reception afterwards was exactly what you and Pierre wanted, laid back and not pretentious but as the night progressed and somewhat formal guests left, it turned into a proper party with your close friends and family and the wild nature of things only escalated from that point on.

You knew that you were in for a long but perfect night when Pierre whispered to you not to get too drunk, his hand teasingly low on your back, picking softy at the delicate fabric of your white wedding dress.

Dancing with your now husband was also an experience since he continuously leaned in to speak to you right into your ear, his words alternating between sweet nothings and pure filth considering the amount of people surrounding you.

By the time he whisked you away to your hotel suite, you were already eager for some time alone with him so you happily bid all the remaining people goodbye and allowed him to carry you away, bridal style of course.

Pierre was practically skipping down the hallway, chuckling along with you out of pure joy, both of you high on life from the unforgettable day you had. Sure, it was tiring but it was perfect in every way.

Halfway to the room, he leaned down and captured your lips with his, the soft laughs getting lost in the contact but the smiles withstanding it. It seemed like those smiles would be everlasting.

He kissed you softly and delicately, moving his lips gently against yours, and while the angle wasn't exactly working in his favor, he still managed to build up a feeling of anticipation in you as your hold on him tightened and his steps slowed.

"We're married." He sighed contently into the kiss, and just like that, you pulled away, you eyes locking with his momentarily before the both of you erupted in laughter, purely out of happiness, just before he stopped in front of a door and put you down to unlock it.

Moving to get inside the room, you were interrupted by Pierre hands holding onto your waist firmly.

"Attends!" Wait! he protested, "I wanna do it like in the movies."

With a sheepish smile, he lifted you up again and carried you inside, straight to the bedroom where he sat you down on the bed and went for a better kiss than the one from a minute ago.

"Je t'aime." I love you. He reminded as his hand found its resting spot on the side of your neck.

"Je t'aime moi aussi." I love you too. You replied between kisses, feeling the way his lips were shifted from soft to firm against yours.

Taking the hint pretty quickly, you pushed him back by the shoulders and stood up, "Before, your first task as a husband. You gotta help me out of this dress." You smiled at him while he grinned, barely registering anything other than the word "husband". He happily nodded and waited for you to turn around.

You faced the other side and pulled your hair away but instead of Pierre's hands finding the zipper, his lips were on your neck and shoulders, kissing the soft skin there at a slow pace that was giving you goosebumps while his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him until his chest was flush against your back.

Instinctively, your head tilted to the side, allowing him more space, your hand reaching for him and resting on the side of his face, feeling his beard rubbing on your skin.

"My beautiful wife..." He sighed, the light blow of air messing with your mind but also making you chuckle because, in all honesty, that might just be the most satisfying phrase you've heard.

The way he was moving so delicately around you was making you impatient and to make things more frustrating, that was a rare occurrence, for him to be so slow with everything.

"Pierre..." You groaned and dropped your head back onto his shoulder, "The dress, i need it off. Please."

With a small laugh, he nodded and took a step back, "D'accord, chérie."

A frown made its way onto his face as he attempted figure out how exactly to unzip the dress, the contraption a bit more complicated than usual to ensure reliability but he was quick to make sense of things, undoing the little clasps and reaching for the zipper, sliding it down slowly, watching the goosebumps on your skin as his fingers traced along your back.

Underneath the white fancy fabric, your bridesmaids had convinced you to wear a bridal lingerie set, their arguments sustained by the fact that the nature of the dress you had chosen didn't require any shape wear, making this a perfect opportunity, and as they showed you the delicate garments they had purchased for you, making you imagine Pierre's reaction to it, you couldn't help but agree. Therefore, that was all you could think of as your husband's hands snuck underneath your wedding dress, sliding along your waist to the front of your body before pushing the gown down, fully expecting it to fall to the ground but naturally, that wasn't the case and he ended up practically yanking on it, making you burst out in laughter as you called his name, offering some much needed help.

"Pierre!" You giggled, clasping your hand on top of his and repeating his name until he twirled you around to face him, smiling at your laughing face.

"It hates me." He pouted, moving closer until his lips brushed with yours.

"It doesn't." You continued chuckling, pushing him back so he was sat on the bed and handling the job on your own.

Suddenly, the dress was cooperating, pooling little by little by your feet until the sheer, lace bra came into view. Pierre was quick to groan, his head dropping back for a mere second before he brought his attention back to you, licking his lips as he leaned back a little and supported his weight on his arms.

You bent forward slightly to pull down to gown more efficiently, what caused your tits to spill out just as your white thong became exposed as well, doing barely anything to hide your pussy from your husband and by that point, Pierre was already getting hard and you could see it through his pants.

He couldn't keep his hands to himself any longer. He got back up and grabbed your hands, helping you step out of your dress, quickly pulling you with him to the bed where he guided you onto his lap to straddle him while he sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Tu me rends fou, princesse." You make me crazy, princess. He said, his tone low and husky now.

"Princesse?" You arched an eyebrow, moving your hand up his chest and starting to work on undoing his bowtie, "Ça c'est nouveau." That’s new. A smile spread onto your face after you pointed that out and moved to kiss his neck.

"You looked like a princess today." He shrugged, watching as you tossed away the bowtie and moved your hands into the shoulders of his suit jacket, sliding them down his arms before finally removing it off him.

"You had me planning all the different ways i want to make love to you all day long but you're wearing this," his hand moved from you waist to your chest where he slightly pinched a nipple through the fabric, "and it makes me wanna fuck you instead."

By now, you were already soaking through your underwear, trying to focus on unbuttoning his shirt but failing miserably. Somehow, you still managed to have him shirtless, even as you resisted the urge to squirm on his lap from just those words.

"Well, we've got all night, don't we? And all the days to come."

With your hands on his shoulder, you leaned forward and placed a kiss right between his collarbones, "We can do both, as many times as we want."

"Fuck, you're not gonna be able to walk by the end of the honeymoon." Pierre chuckled, grabbing onto your wrists and holding them behind your back with one hand, the other supporting you as he crashed his lips against yours with a heavy force, your lips immediately moving against each other messily, the burning need within the both of you growing stronger by the second, getting fueled by the way his teeth were teasing you lower lip and the way your tongue was struggling against his, clashing with Pierre's in a needy and demanding way that was reciprocated by him.

Before you knew it, you took notice of the way that you were grinding again his clothed crotch, your body looking to satisfy its needs without your mind's approval.

"Mrs. Gasly seems desperate." He smirked against your mouth, his hand looser against your wrists now.

"Pierre, please." You whined, "You looked so good all day and i need you."

You attempted pulling your hands free and he didn't resist so you immediately starting undoing his belt and unzipping his pants, brushing your hand over the outline of his hard cock as you did so. Meanwhile, he sat back and watched you with the ghost of a smile until you startled him by slipping your hand into his boxers rather quickly, immediately moving your thumb over his tip, you eyes drifting up to his face to see him as he let out a throaty groan, his eyes screwing shut.

Taking that as your sign, you moved off his lap for better access, kneeling down between his legs and getting rid of his pants and boxers, revealing his hard on, already dripping in precum and twitching like it's begging for attention.

You leaned down and licked a stripe up his length before moving back and wrapping your hand around him, sticking to that for now while he watched through hazy, hooded eyes.

You moved you hand up and down, your thumb twirling over his tip, the other hand wrapped around his base, your fingers moving slightly around his cock as well.

"Merde," Pierre sighed, taking a deep breath like was recomposing himself, "get up. Please."

You stopped your movements, trying to understand why did he want that.

Seeing your confused look, he was quick to explain. "You're getting the princess treatment tonight." He smiled, grabbing onto your arms and helping you up and back on his lap.

"You ask for anything and you'll get it. We just got married, i think there's better things to do than that." He said and didn't wait for an answer before his hands were on your tits, teasing your nipples from over the bra, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

He moved his fingers expertly, his thumbs flicking over the hard nub time and time again, making you arch into him just as his forefinger to join the party as he delivered gentle pinches that pulled erotic moans out of you.

You could feel his hard cock poking you, putting wild thoughts into your mind. You wanted it inside you already but you also wanted to do other things first, what you found slightly conflicting. However, you didn't have time to dwell on your contradictory thoughts because Pierre pulled down the material of the bra and leaned forward, capturing a nipple between his lips, this teeth grazing it with just enough force that it caused you to pull on his hair and squeal his name as his hand continued toying with the other nub.

"Fuck, Pierre. Please." You moaned, looking down onto him as he pulled away and locked his eyes with yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Fuck, you're actually Mrs. Gasly now." He said it like it just dawned upon him.

"Pierre..." A groan left your mouth, your hand reaching for his to guide him, "Look, baby. I'm so wet for you." You ended the sentence with a kiss as you got him to cup your pussy, "Please, do something."

He felt the wetness through the thong's front, his middle finger pushing a bit until he came in contact with your clit through the thin layer of fabric.

You gasped at the teasing contact, rolling your hips against his hand as longed for friction.

"Anything you want, chérie." With that, he pushed the thong aside and dipped two fingers into your pussy, earning an instant moan from you as your eyes screwed shut and all you could think of was the slight stretch you felt as he began moving his digits inside of you.

"Fuck." You groaned, dropping your head onto his shoulder, breathing heavily and gripping onto his bicep for support.

You started grinding your hips, the movements meeting halfway with his, increasing your pleasure and leaving you wanting more.

"Pierre," you sharply inhaled, "more. S'il te plaît." Please.

For once, he gave you what you wanted, not feeling like teasing you tonight. Instead, there was a need to satisfy your every need and pay attention to every detail that night. His thumb found your clit just as he pushed in a third finger.

Your reaction to that was intense. Your walls clenched as a loud moan made its way out, the feeling he was giving you becoming so strong so fast, it left you slacked against his chest, your face hidden in his neck, the small whines and whimpers you were letting out vibrating against his skin.

You couldn't help the moans that were repeatedly leaving your mouth in sync with the movements of his hand but Pierre didn't mind it one bit. He loved the sounds you were letting out.

Just as you started feeling your orgasm near, he started littering lazy kisses on your neck and shoulder, his tongue meeting your skin for mere instants with every peck he delivered until your thighs were shaking.

"Fuck-" you gasped, "i'm so close."

Pierre lifted your face a bit so he had access to your lips, kissing you deeply to divert your focus off the fact that he was already pulling his fingers out but there was almost nothing in this world that would distract you from that.

"Pierre..." you whined in annoyance.

"Relax, baby." He smiled, "I just want a taste." He sloppily kissed your lips again, "I want you to cum on my tongue. Can you do that for me, Mrs. Gasly?"

Before you had your chance to reply, he had you laid out on the bed, spread out for him just like he wanted, in the position he's been picturing you in all day long.

"Je suis si chanceux de t'épouser, mon amour." I am so lucky to marry you, my love. Pierre started by kissing up your thighs, "Si chanceux de t'avoir comme ça, m'attendant pour que je te fais jouir." So lucky to have you like this, waiting for me to make you cum.

With every word he said, he moved further up higher, you bit on your lip harder and your breathing became more erratic.

"Pierre, less talking. I'm begging."

He chuckled like the menace he is and hooked his fingers into the hem of the thong, dragging it down slowly until it was completely off.

"Tu veux que je te baise ou que je te fais de l'amour?" Do you want me to fuck you or make love to you? He asked as he pulled your legs apart and held them in position.

Rarely did you ever talk to him in french during sex but if that is what would it would take for him to actually do something, then you were more than willing to.

"Tout les deux, mais maintenant j'ai tellement besoin de ta bouche. S'il te plaît." Both, but now i really need your mouth. Please.

You barely finished speaking when you felt him thumb on your clit again and his tongue lapping at your entrance. It immediately made you want to arch your back as the bubbling feeling returned but Pierre held you down and focused entirely on tongue fucking you.

Having Pierre's tongue work its magic on your pussy never got old but over time, you learned that he found pleasure in eating you out as well, what efficiently explained how lost in it he gets.

Within seconds, he had turned your exhales into small whimpers. The pleasure was building up really fast and he was quick to take notice of the way your walls were contracting against his tongue.

"Pierre - oh my god, fuck." You moaned, digging your fingers into his hair for a bit of support, what caused him to groan against you, bringing you closer to your release.

"I'm gonna-" you were cut off by a loud moan leaving your mouth.

"Let go, princesse." Pierre reassured and picked up the pace in which his finger was moving on your clit while he continued moving his tongue at a mellow pace, taking his time to fully enjoy this.

The contrast of speeds clouded your mind, making you confused about what area he was stimulating to focus more on but if anything, that made you lose control faster and at an increased level. You ended up squirming under his touch when you came, his hands holding your thighs apart, rubbing soft circles on the skin while he kept lapping at your wetness until you stilled and your heavy breathing could be heard loud and clear.

His fingers intertwined with yours and he helped you into a sitting position that left you facing his grinning face.

"Madame Gasly, tout va bien?" Mrs. Gasly, is everything okay? He asked, still smiling widely.

"Tu vas m'appeler ça pour combien de temps, chéri?" How long are you gonna call me that, darling? You chuckled, freeing your hands from his and wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

"Forever." Pierre answered just as you brought your lips to his in a passionate kiss. He immediately started grazing your lips with his tongue while allowing his hands to roam around your body, making you shiver.

You were slightly ticklish by nature, especially when it came to light touches around your waist so when his hands trailed up your legs, tracing soft lines on your hips and moving further up to your that area, you couldn't help the little squeal that escaped into the kiss.

Pierre pulled back with an amused smile.

"Damn, i always forget this."

With that, he pushed you back to lay flat on the mattress and started tickling you with his face in the crook of your neck, allowing him to leave messy kisses there as you laughed and squirm.

The sound of the two of you giggling echoed through the room until a small, accidental friction made you moan and diverted your attention back to previous activities.

"Pierre-" you paused to give him a peck, "I need you, baby."

"Fuck." He let out a deep groan, "Anything you want. I wanna treat you like i princess tonight, i already told you."

As he was still speaking, one of his hands grabbed one of your legs and raised it up to his waist, making you instinctively wrap it around him.

"Je dois te débarrasser de ça en premier." I need to rid you of this first. He tugged at the bra you didn't realize you were still wearing.

Nodding, you arched your back and he unclipped the garment with ease and threw it away, leaving his hand to toy with you one of your nipples, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and teasing it in a way he knew would get a reaction out of you. His eyes remained locked with yours as he wrapped his lips around the second nub, the tip of his tongue poking you with the perfect amount of pressure. However, that didn't last long.

His lips were back on yours as his hand moved down to tease your clit again, and immediately your hips bucked against his.

"Please, Pierre." You struggled to speak against his mouth.

At your plea, he straightened up and you could now see his hand moving around your pussy. You couldn't take your eyes off the movement of his fingers, the feeling mixing so well with the sight, it almost made you cum on spot.

"If you keep this up-" you gasped as he traced a digit around your entrance and quickly resumed stimulating your clit, "i will cum."

He smiled at you, "And why is that a bad thing? You deserve this, baby especially after all those tiring months of planning. Je veux te voir perdre contrôle. Peux tu me faire ça?" I want to see you lose control. Can you do that for me?

His words barely registered in your mind before you were nodding, your eyes screwing shut and you lip trapped between your teeth at the pleasure of another orgasm creeping up.

Your back was arching, your head digging into the pillows behind you while soft moans that Pierre loved repeatedly escaped.

He started picking up the pace, moving his fingers in circles motions, his eyes alternating between looking at you and looking at the way his hand was moving but when it started being more and more obvious that you were close, his attention was fully diverted to your reactions. He watched with satisfaction and love as your lips parted in a breathless way, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes closed while your hand fisted the sheets beneath you, you knuckles turning white.

"Oh my god-" he heard you gasp seconds before you came and your body relaxed on the bed.

Pierre hovered over you with a smile and waited for you to open your eyes, one of his hands caressing your cheek until your gaze met his.

"I love you." You said with a peaceful grin that made Pierre's heart flutter.

"I love you too." He replied, placing a kiss on your head.

He allowed you to catch your breath for a few moments but soon enough, he felt your legs around his waist. He looked down at you with one eyebrow arched.

"Peux-je...?" Can i…? He asked with amusement.

"Oh, please do." You said with a chuckle.

That was the cue he needed.

His hand traveled down and wrapped around his cock. He was so hard that that contact alone made him groan so he immediately started guiding it to your entrance. Putting a bit of space between your bodies, he tilted his head down to watch as he sunk into you and you couldn't help but to do so as well.

Your gaze remained glued onto the way his hand was directing his cock to your pussy and you could feel the tip poking into you, making you part your lips in anticipation, eager to feel the stretch already.

He moved his hand away and started pushing in deeper at such a slow pace that left you feeling every inch and every vein, the feeling corresponding perfectly with the way you could see him disappear inside of you.

When he finally thrusted all the way in, your head dropped back into the pillows, a sharp gasp leaving your lips in sync with one that left his.

"Merde, you take my cock so good, princesse. It looks so good inside you." He said breathlessly and it made you look back to where your body connected with his while your senses were dominated by the feeling of being so full of him, your pulsating pussy stretched around him already feeling so good that you couldn't help repeatedly squeezing his cock repeatedly.

When he took notice that you were watching the way he fit inside you, Pierre diverted his gaze to your face just as he delivered the first thrust.

With hooded eyes, you looked at the way his cock moved slowly out, you wetness coating it now and the way it moved back inside.

"C'est un propre spectacle à voir, non?" That’s a sight to see, no? He teased and at this point, neither of you had any idea of how he was managing to stay so composed.

You didn't respond, mainly because the way you could feel him so deep was getting overwhelming when he wasn't moving, it had you squirming.

"I know i love watching my cock disappear into your pussy." He continued.

"Pierre, please move." Your arms were now around his neck, pulling him closer until a few centimeters were all that was left between your face and his, "Please." You whispered to him.

He moaned and gave you what you wanted, starting to thrust at a sensual pace. He pushed in then pulled out slowly and repeatedly, allowing the both of you to feel every last thing. After all, this wasn't just a regular night, it was your wedding night and he believed it needed to be special.

While he kept up the same pace, he leaned forward and started kissing almost every inch of skin accessible to him while you lost your self in the pleasure.

A few words slipped out of his mouth as mumblings between kisses and if anything, they heightened the pressure in your stomach.

Back at the alter, you exchanged vows that meant the world to both of you but the things he was saying right now felt like a personal, raw version of these vows. You couldn't help all the feelings these words were giving you.

"T'es beaucoup trop parfaite." You’re far too perfect. He spoke just before his lips met your collarbone, "And i want to spend every day loving you in every way i can."

After that, he pulled your leg up by the thigh, allowing him to hit a deeper spot that immediately left you breathless as your body arched, pressing against his now.

"La façon que ton corps correspond si parfaitement au mien est sacré pour moi." The way your body corresponds so perfectly to mine is sacred to me. He exhaled those words once he felt you skin against his, and at that, a loud moan resonated in the room.

Pierre's lips met yours as he picked up the pace, each of you swallowing the other's moans until you felt the burning sensation again.

"Pierre-"

"I know, chérie." He reassured, keeping the same pattern and going back to kissing you, the way your walls were closing around him making him want to lose all control.

A moment later, he left you cum around him so he gave you a few seconds to readjust, during which he watched your face adoringly. During that brief moment, he had a whole rerealization of how much he loves you. It made him heart swell and beat faster.

"Putain, je suis si amoureux de toi." Fuck, i’m so in love with you.

Your eyes fluttered back open to meet his glistening ones and the expression on his face left you speechless so you pulled him back into yet another kiss that did wonders in conveying your feelings.

He resumed thrusting, his moans now the only ones in the room and you loved hearing him. It was an insane confidence boost that your body was what was making his feel that way.

One hand moved up and down his back as he continued moving, the other in his hair, scratching softly at his roots until you felt him twitch inside of you, signaling that he was cumming.

He collapsed onto your chest, trying to catch his breath while you hugged him for a while.

Eventually, he flipped you over with his cock still deep inside of you so he was half-sat against the wooden headboard, his fingers brushing through your hair as he thought back on the day while you laid on his chest, dangerously close to falling asleep, a slight astonishment in your mind concerning how tiring the wedding turned out to be.

"Baby..." you heard Pierre softly whisper.

"Mhm...?"

"Donne moi la main un peu." Give me your hand a bit.

You rolled your eyes as you knew where this was going but you lifted your hand towards him nonetheless, tilting your head up to look at him too.

His eyes immediately found the ring and he was now grinning and sighing in what seemed to relief and content.

"Ma belle Madame Gasly." My beautiful Mrs. Gasly. He chuckled with his eyes closed and his head against the headboard, exposing his throat. You couldn't resist kissing his neck then while you too grinned as well.

"Je t'aime." I love you. You beamed and he said it right back.

A few moments passed in silence before he spoke up again.

"Can i stay inside of you? Easier access in the morning." He smirked.

You playfully slapped his chest.

"What?" He acted offended.

"Fine, i guess." You groaned, knowing full damn well that you weren't gonna ask him to pull out in the first place, "I can wake you up by riding you." You teased him back.

"Not if i wake up first and wake you up by fucking you." Pierre challenged.

"Fine then. Whoever wakes up first gets the privileges, Mr. Gasly."

"Fine then, Mrs. Gasly."

That was supposed to be when the two of you fell asleep but seconds later you heard Pierre laughing.

"What is it?" You asked.

He shrugged and smiled, "I absolutely love married life so far."

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly oneshots #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x you #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x you #f1 x reader #pierre gasly imagines

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

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can you do hcs of dating grayson hawthorne?

grayson hawthorne x fem! reader

hcs about meeting & dating the heir apparent of the hawthorne family.

a/n: ofc!! thx sm for the request & sorry for the wait!! i just got a new one also requesting grayson so this one goes out to you too anon!! grayson hawthorne is one of the lomls🫶 i am so indecisive between him & jameson fr (but for avery i think jameson is better suited for her). hope u enjoy!! i'm a sucker for the poor x rich trope sorry & i love tobias lowkey playing match maker in these LOL & this follows some of the main story but then kinda trails off

word count: 6.8k

warnings: almost drowning (LOL), minor mature language, few spoliers for final gambit i guess?,

before you were dating the second oldest hawthorne, you were just a girl working part-time at a diner as a waitress, trying to make enough money to buy a car. you were relentlessly getting picked up/dropped off everywhere by either one of your parent's vehicles.

being a waitress wasn't ideal when dealing with rude customers, pretentious managers, and occasional annoying co-workers, but you had decent pay, and tips weren't too bad.

most of the time you were running the show on your own. serving tables, acting as hostess, dealing with unsatisfied customers, etc. it wasn’t even the lack of staff, it was lazy behaviors of your co-workers and manager - who got the job because her dad owns the business.

one peculiar afternoon you were doing your usual job of serving tables and taking orders when an older gentleman walked in, way classier than your usual customers. you seated him, gave him a menu, and then returned to the kitchen to serve your other tables.

the diner staff seemed to be murmuring words and glancing back at the man, but you didn't pay any mind to it. it wasn't unusual for you to catch staff gossiping about customers.

going back to the table, you gave him the complimentary water and then asked for his beverage of choice - he chose a simple black coffee. you went to the kitchen and returned with his drink. you were on the verge of asking for his meal order, but he looked preoccupied with a crossword puzzle.

you peaked over, and noticed he looked possibly stuck, so you offered your help because you often did crosswords when you were bored. "do you mind if i take a look?"

he said nothing, only gesturing his head toward his little crossword booklet and pen beside it. even his pen looked fancy.

you looked over the one he was one, and after reading the hint and the number of boxes for the word, you could figure it out.

"tatersall."

the old man peered at you as if you spoke a different language.

"it's fabric with checks and lines, the phrase is a bit old-fashioned. i only know it 'cause that's what my dad refers to his shirts as." you explained.

he looked intrigued by your words, as if you'd given him an idea. he thanked you, then went on to fill out the boxes.

words were said much after that. he drank his coffee and left sometime while you were busy serving other tables. when you returned to ask him if he wanted anything else, he was already gone. but not before leaving $200 dollar tip next to his finished coffee.

you thoroughly checked if it was real, not believing anyone would purposely leave such a tip for a cup of black coffee. but in fact, it was very real. and you even bought yourself a very cute dress to commemorate. just to double check it was legit, of course.

the older man with silver-blue eyes continued to come into the diner every few days, never ordering anything other than a black coffee and always being generous with the tip.

you two had polite conversations and odd ones rooted questions he dropped on you. you noticed a lot of them pertained to money and contributions. but you never passed on answering.

they were questions like "what jobs have you worked?", "what are your parents' occupations?", "are you interested in charities and donations?", and "what do you do with the money you earn?"

thru these visits, he finally gave you his name, tobias. it shouldn't had surprised you he had a unique name to match his unique personality.

you didn't get much information about tobias. all he revealed to you was he enjoyed games, was obviously wealthy, and has 2 daughters, one son, and 4 grandsons - who weren't too off from your age.

he liked to talk about a certain one, the second oldest, grayson. you created an image he was a closed-off, goal-driven, cunning, and loyal guy. you didn’t wanna jump to conclusions, but one could say he was slyly trying to set you up with him.

it wasn’t uncommon for grandparents to come in the diner and rave about their grandsons. at times they would even show you a multitude of photos saying how handsome they are and well-raised gentlemen who would be a great match for you.

you never had the heart to straight up tell them ‘not interested’, so you listened to their praises and then fabricated a lie as to why you were unable to date their grandson.

if tobias ever were to ever try and do that you would use the same methods. you were sure his grandson was an acceptable man, but you had no interest in going on a blind date with anytime soon.

however, the conversation didn't maneuver that direction; instead, he went on to talk about how grayson was in charge of a foundation he owns and basically manages everything.

you found that rather impressive, considering he was only eight-teen. then you thought, 'just how rich is this guy?'

this arrangement continued for a few more weeks and then it turns into a constant routine for months. still never ordering anything order than a coffee, and leaving after.

one day, tobias abruptly stopped coming into the diner. and after a two-week hiatus, you figured he was likely not returning again.

you didn't realize how tedious work was without the old man's presence, you were still as busy as ever doing everyone's job, but now you didn't have the levity from your conversations.

it stayed like that for the following three months, no word from tobias. you wanted to contact him somewhere, but you began to realize how little you knew of him, hell you didn't even know his last name. he knew all the basics of what comprised you, but you couldn't even say his favorite color. and you’d known this man for almost a year.

but as it turned out, you didn't need to contact him yourself because a man came into the diner asking for you.

at first, you thought it was an unsatisfied customer here to berate you some more; it wouldn't be the first time. but you were more than relieved it was a guy you'd never seen before, a particularly handsome and well-fitted one.

you went up to the man and politely greeted him, asking how you could help him. he took you presence in when you appeared, looking up and down. it wasn't in a 'checking-you-out' type way, it was of an 'i'm judging what type of person you are' way. you felt scrutinized in your lousy diner girl uniform. it didn't help he was dressed pristinely from head to toe.

he finally spoke, "it's pertaining to my grandfather, tobias hawthorne."

you were piqued up at the mention of tobias, this was the first time you'd heard of his last name, but you didn't know any other tobias's so it must be him.

the man in front of you was one of his infamous grandsons he loved to chat about, although you weren't sure which one. but based on his stern and disciplined attitude, you'd place your bets on grayson. but just to be sure you asked.

"right, my name is grayson hawthorne." you called it. "unfortunately, my grandfather has recently passed. my family is in the middle of gathering everyone for the matter of the will, but all parties must be preset. my grandfather's law firm has informed me you are also mentioned in it."

your heart broke at the reveal of tobias passing. you knew him less than a year, but you still had formed a connection with him.

then the other portion of his statement dawned on you, he mentioned you in his will. why?

grayson seemed to have wanted to know this too. he said tobias mentioned you in passing but didn't offer details about your relationship. he didn't hide how he was suspecting and untrusting of you.

you filled him in on details of how you met, your meetings, and the last time you conversed with him. grayson was still wary of you, but he didn't have any reason yet to say you were lying.

he then urged you to gather your belongings because the two of you had to head over to his family's residence as soon as possible. he has already informed your boss of your leave of absence.

it was all so sudden, you were still processing all this information. grayson's insistence made it nearly impossible to do anything but listen.

so, grayson took you home to change and pack a few items. you left a note for your parents, letting them know you'd be spending a night or two at a friend's house. you knew if you explained what was really going on they would not let you go; they'd probably even scold you for befriending a random old man at work, calling you naive.

although, that had merit because you were currently off with a man you knew for like five seconds because you believed he was the grandson of a man who you also didn't know for too long.

you thought the chance of getting kidnapped was better than overworking at the diner.

you were astounded when grayson casually took you to the destination of his private jet. you'd never flown first class, let alone a private freaking jet.

you two took off, and a few hours later, arrived in texas. the moment you stepped off, a bodyguard guided the two of you into a limousine. from there, you sought off to the mansion.

when you arrived, you thought you'd been driven to some sort of fancy hotel, but not it was where grayson and the rest of the hawthorne lived. you'd likely get lost trying to go from the kitchen to your bedroom.

grayson had to physically drag you away from your jaw-dropped stare at the property.

when you entered the entrance hall , another girl was already there, an older girl with her as well.

she turned her attention toward you when she noticed you entering, she seemed to have recognized grayson, but had a questioning gaze toward you.

the older girl was the one to speak to you first. “and here i thought we’d already met everyone affiliated with this crazy rich family. hi, i’m libby and this is my sister avery. are you grayson’s girlfriend?”

you could’ve died from awkwardness right there. you didn’t even wanna take a glance at grayson’s reaction, you imagined he would have a look of discontent.

“er, no. we just met today actually. he came into my work saying i’m needed for a will reading, and next thing i know im off in a private jet and in this mansion.”

this time avery spoke up, “sorry about libby’s assumption. it was just because you guys came in together and he’s carrying your bag.”

grayson was in fact hold your small luggage bag. he taken the liberty of taking it out of the trunk of the limo and carried it since.

you didn’t say anything, you just snatched your bag out of grayson’s hands, mumbling a quiet thanks.

grayson let out a laugh, but covered it up as a cough.

avery talked about her situation being similar to yours, except she’s never met tobias hawthorne before. it made you feel better there was someone else who felt like an outsider.

you were led away by grayson, guiding you to the room the will was being read. but you ran into a numerous amount of people on the way.

first, it was xander, the youngest hawthorne grandson. he appeared out of secret passage, jump scaring you. then he introduced himself.

nash, who had a country accent, followed a bit after walking in with his mother skye. she asked you a few invading questions about yourself, and you replied cordially. very relieved when grayson excused you both.

finally, you’d met jameson on accident. you were on the way to the bathroom, using directions given to you, and that’s when you bumped into him. he was very obviously drunk. he slurred a few words, but you quickly excused yourself, not wanting to deal with whatever was going on with him.

once you were finally in the room, you took a seat next to avery since she and her sister were the best options.

finally the will reading began, and the lawyers started reciting its words and designated belongs and money to different family members. all the families were stunned that the grandsons, especially grayson, hadn't gotten the entire fortune. yours and averys names had yet to be mentioned.

"to my newfound friend y/n l/n, i leave conservatorship to the hawthorne foundation. the remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, i leave it to be shared upon y/n l/n and avery kylie grambs."

nothing could have you prepared for that. you thought it was a prank at first, some sick joke rich people do that get less-than-fortunate people's hopes up. but no, the lawyer did indeed confirm it to be true.

avery and yourself turned toward each other wide-eyed, completely flabbergasted. then the whole room erupted into chaos, everyone standing up to demand an explanation, accusing you both of having done something.

you had just met these people, and you couldn't for sure say they were capable of murder, but you'd seen enough movies about the rich to know it's definitely a possibility.

luckily, oren, tobias' (now ex) bodyguard, stood in front of you girls, preventing the hawthornes from stepping any closer. he claimed he worked for you both now, so it was his job to protect you.

"should we trust this guy? what if he's just playing us to get the inheritance." avery whispered to you.

"a bodyguard with ulterior motives is better than being left to the wolves."

"good point." libby chimed in.

it didn't end there; there were conditions for the will, saying you and avery must remain at the hawthorne estate for a full year to receive the inheritance.

so not only did you become enemy number one toward most hawthornes, but now you had to live with all of them. lovely.

that jump-started your now future of being involved with the hawthornes (and the grambs sisters)

after the will fiasco, the grayson made it his mission to unmask whatever game you played to get the inheritance, but he always came up empty-handed because you, as you insisted to multiple hawthornes, did not manipulate tobias. you didn't even know the guy's last name until you had met grayson.

if you had a talent for taking advantage of rich men, you would not be wasting time being a waitress for a shitty diner.

however, you tried to look on the very bright side of things, living in a gorgeous mansion. your bedroom was the size of your home's first floor. you;'d never slept on a comfier or larger bed.

one thing that set you apart from avery in the will was that you had complete ownership in the hawthorne foundation and his involvement with different charities. alissa had informed you that you'd need to learn to manage it- designating which associations to donate to, how much, how often, etc.

it was overwhelming to think about; if you failed to be a conservator, it would be given to the grandsons. you also knew having authority over it bothered zara hawthorne, since she'd spent basically her whole life running it. you knew it you were to make a wrong move, she'd be quick to call it out you.

alissa had arranged for you to go to the foundation and meet with someone who'd help you navigate the ropes. a part of you assumed it'd be zara meeting you there, maybe forced by alissa to help you. but instead, it was grayson, who still thought you were some master con woman.

he was the only grandson that had an issue with you and avery, but for some reason, you were more suspicious to him. xander, jameson, and nash seemed to have adjusted to events and were now somewhat friends with you. it was pretty infuriating how grayson would not listen to reason, no matter how much you tried to make amends.

grayson remained professional, not wanting his personal feud to hinder the foundation's work. he started giving you a tour and explaining an overview of how things ran. it became easier for you to imagine yourself running it.

you stopped when you passed by various black and white photos hung up in midair. they'd been hung since the beginning of your tour, but you'd only truly taken notice just now.

"who took these? they're beautiful."

"i did."

'of course, you did' you thought. he seemed to be good at everything.

"can i have a copy of this one?" you pointed toward a photo to your left; it was of a couple dancing together in the rain, in front of the eiffel tower.

"why?"

"i'd always wanted to see the eiffel tower. plus, i just really like it." it was true. the photo was captured exquisitely, and going to paris had always been a goal of yours, along with traveling to different places in the world.

he didn't respond. grayson went up to the photograph and carefully unlatched it. he then turned to you and gestured for you to take it, "here, you can have it."

you were a little shocked he just gave it to you, but hundreds of photos were decorated throughout the building, so it probably didn't mean much just giving you one.

you took it in your hands gently and thanked him. you both then continued your tour into the conference room to discuss further management of the hawthorne foundation.

but unbeknownst to you, the photo you now owned was one of his favorites.

it became easier to get to know and warm up to grayson the more you visited the foundation, which you did quite often because you now that you had (or will have) conservatorship to the foundation, you wanted to ensure you knew everything involving it to ensure you'd continue its success.

you could now say the two of you were somewhat friends, but there still seemed to be a wall - built by grayson, between the two of you. likely from the lack of trust he still has toward you.

at times he'd look at you as if you were the enemy, and other times he'd treat you courteously. his constant mood changes were driving you crazy.

you had been staying up later than usual since your stay at the manor began. it didn't help that there was possibly a secret passage in your room like avery's has.

but your leading cause of distress stemmed from the mystery of the whole will situation. you'd gotten a small letter like everyone else, but it failed to offer any closure.

in fact, all it said was, "good luck". you'd never had the urge to strangle a dead old man til now.

however, this night you decided to walk outside. you'd been hesitant to wander around the mansion, but then again, you technically half owned it now, and nobody could really stop you. so you decided to go to the pool area, carefully avoiding alerting your new bodyguard of your movement.

when you got there, it was empty as you had hoped. the pool was illuminated with the lights, the area surrounding it was dimly lit.

you settled for solely dipping your feet in the pool and gazing at the stars upon the sky.

half an hour in, you heard the faint sound of someone possibly approaching. you took it as a sign to get back to your room before oren noticed, if he hadn't already.

you got up a bit too quickly, causing an imbalance in your step - leading you to stumble backward into the pool.

most people would simply swim back up to the top and pull themselves out, but you couldn't do that for one big reason. you never learned to swim.

panic began to seep into you as you flailed your arms all over the place, attempting to float to the top, but it only made you sink further. it didn't help drowning was on the top of your list of 'ways i would hate to die'.

you were midway through choking on the water when someone jumped into the pool and carried you back onto the pavement.

after coughing the water out of your lungs, you looked at the face your your savior kneeled in front of your; low and below there was grayson hawthorne - wearing nothing but swim shorts.

the sight of him shirtless made it harder to steady your breathing.

"are you alright?" you nodded in confirmation.

"what were you thinking getting into the pool so carelessly?"

"well, i just to test out my new waterproof mascara." you said sarcastically. "obviously i didn't end up in the stupid pool purposely!"

he rolled his eyes. “god, were you born a horrendous swimmer or just taught by an imbecile.”

you stayed silent, looking away from him, not wanting to admit the embarrassing truth.

“do you…do you not know how to swim?”

"….. define knowing to swim.”

he gave you an incredulous look, “seriously? even most 5-year-olds know how to swim, better yet, they wouldn’t almost drown in the 7ft part of the pool.”

“okay i get it! it’s pathetic i don’t know the basics of swimming. you don't have to be an asshole about it.” you stood up angrily in your soggy clothes and attempted to walk away - but grayson grabbed your wrist.

“wait. alright, i apologize for being quick to judge. if you want..i’ll teach you to swim.”

you were taken aback by the gesture, not quite sure what to think. on the one hand, it could be a plan to embarrass you further, but on the other hand - you really didn’t want to live your life not being able to swim any longer.

“alright.”

the following night he made good of his word when you went out to meet him. (oren being aware this time, after he warned you he'd lock you in your room if you snuck out without him again.)

this time you had proper swim attire, a 2 piece bikini alissa had purchased for you, along with others.

grayson was already in the pool when you arrived, swimming laps. once he noticed your arrival, he stepped out of the pool. you would've thought it was a scene from a movie from how smoothly & dreamy he moved.

you averted your eyes before you stared at his form too long.

you weren't sure if it was your imagination or you saw grayson do a double-take when he saw you.

all his attractiveness was shortly forgotten when he went to his bag to retrieve something, then handed you some plastic. it took you a moment, but then it clocked - these you arm floaties.

"you're joking right?"

"hey, after that near-drowning experience, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"it's like you want to humiliate me."

"don't worry i chose the ones with the flowers to enhance your matureness." he fought back a smile with his words.

he got a nasty glare in response.

still, you knocked down your pride on putting on the floaties before you and grayson submerged into the pool.

then grayson began reciting exercises and movements for you to do. after floating around for a bit, he instructed you to remove the floaties. you were obviously hesitant, the floaties were keeping you from drowning, but grayson insisted that you trust him.

he grabbed your waist with both hands and got behind you; that was enough to quicken your pulse.

his hands held you steady as you attempted to stay afloat by moving your arms and legs. it would get harder to focus when his hands moved up and down your back.

"okay, i'm gonna let you go now."

"ok. wait what-"

you were abruptly cut off because grayson immediately removed his hands, leaving you on your own. being caught off guard, you began a repeat of the night before, but this time attempting to swim correctly. regardless, you were still beginning to choke on water and sink down.

grayson swam back to your aid in an instant, holding you up above the water by the waist.

"shit- i'm sorry. i assumed your instincts would kick in if you had less reaction time."

"oh, because it worked so well yesterday."

"right, perhaps i should've given it more careful thought." he moved a hand to the side of your face, "are you sure you're okay?"

you nodded, unable to verbally respond. the tension in the air thickened as the two of you continued to stare to one another. for a brief moment, his gaze wandered to your lips, and you stopped breathing.

his face slowly leaned into yours. you didn't know what you'd do if he was going to kiss you - a big part of you was ready to kiss back and the other part told you i'd be a mistake if you did.

but the moment was interrupted by alissa, who was calling your name because she wanted to ho over tomorrow’s events with you.

you also knew, based on alissa's critical gaze, she'd seen what was about to possibly happen. she has already given you a fair amount of warning about getting involved with hawthornes.

grayson then pulled away, awkwardly bidding you farewell, saying he'd see you later before he made his way out of the pool.

since then, the brewing tension between the two of you grew. it didn't help you already see him quite a bit during the day, then alone at night. apparently, it was evident to everyone there was something happening because thea calligaris cornered you.

"the last girl who was with grayson ended up dead."

you were unsure what to believe after that, you really didn't trust thea, but didn't mean it couldn't be true. 'don't rich people always have some murderous secret?'

you couldn't help it, and brought up the topic to grayson, who went very still at the mention. he lashed out at you before walking away. you suppose that confirmed it.

he avoided you for a few days, even skipped out on swimming lessons, so you kept yourself busy with school and hanging with avery and xander; solving the still ongoing mystery of the will. which you'd lowkey given up on because riddles were not your forte.

you felt bad your question, but he didn’t need to act so harshly toward you. so, you weren’t going to talk to him until he approached you first.

a knock sounded in your room when you were getting ready for bed. however, it didn't come from the door but from behind a large painting.

'i swear if this house is haunted, i'm running back home'

you tried to remove the painting, but it was stuck to the wall. then you discover a small button hidden on its frame. against better judgment, you press it, making the painting and the wall behind it move forward and slide to the left.

you knew there were various passages, but having one in your own room kind of freaked you out.

behind the moving wall stood grayson. you screamed at first, only seeing a figure in the dark. but then grayson quickly stepped into the light and closer to you to put a hand over your mouth. you were relieved to see him and not someone who would possibly murder you.

he didn’t remove his hand, you gave him an expectant look.

“just hear me out, before you demand i leave. i came to apologize.”

you nodded, allowing him to continue. he sighed and pulled his hand away. then he opened up to you for the first time, telling you about a girl name emily laughlin.

he explained her condition, how both hom and jameson were involved with her, and how she died.

the more the story went on the more you felt bad for both brothers, especially grayson since it seemed it was still affecting him. you even felt for emily, obviously, she lacked something in her life to play 2 brothers.

“i'm not complaining, but why did you decide to tell me all this” the two of you at some point made your way onto your bed, sitting side by side each other

he humorlessly laughs, and looks directly at you. “to be honest, i’m not even sure. all i know is when i look into your eyes, i have this urge to tell bare my soul to you.”

deja vu to the pool incident, you both didn’t say anything, just looked at each other, slowly leaning your face closer.

you were ready to be interrupted again, stopping the act before it can happen. but there was none, and your lips were now an inch apart, and your heart was beating like you just ran a marathon.

“tell me to stop right now, or i’m afraid i won’t be able to hold myself back.”

you said nothing.

wasn't like he gave you much reaction time anyway because he kissed you a second later - like you were the last person he was ever going to kiss.

and oh boy, was it a good kiss.

even when he left your room later that night, after much kissing you were still reeling from the shock of it all.

you didn't know what it meant for the two of you - did he like you?, was it a one-time thing?, or did he kiss you as a way to forget emily?

you were only sure of one thing right now - you felt something toward grayson that crossed the friend zone.

the kiss was never brought up over the days; grayson and you continued to work together and swim at night together almost every other day. you weren't sure if you were relieved or offended he never mentioned it.

you swore he got flirter since the kiss - his hand brushing against yours, standing very close behind you when reviewing something for the foundation, hands wandering when helping you swim, even a subtle flirty remark here and there.

you confided in avery about the events. she was insistent on the fact grayson liked you, and that he didn't seem like the type of have a fling nor rebound.

you wanted to believe he liked you, but then you would hear thea's voice in your head, reminding you of emily, and how he isn't over her.

it was driving you mad, so you convinced yourself you were simply reading into things. you weren't.

it all came to a head at a charity event the both of you helped plan for the foundation. you'd wore a beautiful namebrand designer custom-made gown, the fanciest dress you ever adorned.

however, the whole night grayson ignored you and made it clear he was avoiding you. anytime you approached him he gave an excuse to the person he was talking to that he had to go somewhere. or if you tried making eye contact, he was quick to turn his head the other direction. you didn't know what his deal was.

when you took to the outside for a breather, you sensed the arrival of his presence.

you scoff, "so now you wanna talk to me or what?"

he didn't respond, which upset you more. so you opted to walk back into the ballroom, but grayson stopped you.

"anytime i look at you too long, i think of our kiss that night. then i have to hold myself back from doing it another time. and if i kiss you, i thin- no. i know i won't be able to help but fall for you."

you were again dumbfounded by such confession. a habit that seemed to always happen in the presence of grayson hawthrone.

"i don't mind."

"neither do i."

he crashed your lips together with his in a flash.

unlike the first one, the kiss was messy, and messy was never a way you thought you'd describe the pristine grayson hawthorne.

his hands made their way to your face keeping you close while his mouth was almost devouring your lips. you steadied yourself by holding onto his shoulders because you did not trust your wobbly knees to stand on their own.

you pulled away first, heavily breathing like the night you almost drowned. your mind was still hazy, unable to properly form a sentence to speak.

grayson hands stayed, caressing your face gently,

"you can have my entire being if it means i get to kiss you like that whenever."

you both didn't end up returning to the charity that night. not while your makeup was smudged and all your lipstick was transferred on grayson's face.

though it was never verbally official, the two of you were evidently more than friends at that point.

you didn't even need to tell anyone of your newfound relationship because you'd come to find out jameson had seen the two of you that night, and he would could never resist a gossip about grayson. so the information easily made its way throughout the entire hawthorne manor.

in relation, grayson fought jameson. unfortunately, you weren't allowed to watch the fight because grayson didn't want you to witness any violence. you were lowkey disappointed because you and avery were ready to place bets.

alissa also made sure to have a talk with you both regarding public appearances. she advised it was better to keep it private because everyone was still reeling from yours and avery's newfound inheritance, and this news could possibly do damage to your media reputation. plus, it was better if grayson was advertised as single.

you personally didn't mind, you weren't the biggest fan of pda when you had a thousand new eyes on you. and alissa's advice was wise since you were new to the whole being a public figure thing. and well, you both lived together anyway.

grayson was more hesitant to agree, but mostly for your benefit he listened to alissa.

it was fun in a way, acting platonic in public then kissing when you got to the mansion or even the limousine. it was like having a secret relationship.

whenever interviews tried to insinuate something, you learned how to shut it down after much lessons on pr. but grayson liked to leave sly comments; only the two of you could understand.

"yeah, y/n's quite well at exploring the mouth of new things."

"y/n and i have become very acquainted with each other."

"you could say i'm into women who sink instead of swim."

it made you wanna laugh and playfully hit him all the same.

what really made your relationship step into public light was when rumors about you and jameson dating started circling around.

a photo of the two of you had been taken getting out of a limo together then entering a building, where people rumored you had a 'date'. in reality, both of you were there to talk to skye hawthorne after she was removed from the hawthorne mansion.

grayson was less than happy about these rumors, and jameson not denying anything to the press to get a rise out of grayson, was making things worse.

so, in a grayson hawthorne manner - he took care of things himself. he bought out all of the press and made them debunk the stories.

then to be even more dramatic, the next time the two of you were out together, he made a whole show of kissing you. even going as far as dipping you down in his arms before the kiss - felt straight out of a cheesy romcom. you couldn't say you didn't enjoy it, though.

the paparazzi had a field day with those photos & the two of your the front page of gossip magazines for weeks. alissa was ready to explode after only finding out the two of you went public from the media.

being in a public relationship was harder than being in a secret one. there were somehow even more eyes on you, picking your relationship apart. they mostly targeted your flaws and even took digs at your old diner job. even a surge of online hate came at your direction.

even grayson couldn't buyout every magazine or person who had a negative thing to say about you, and trust that he very much tried to.

but being official in public also had great pros. now, grayson and you could go out on dates wherever without worrying about hiding and disguises.

you couldn't stay anywhere too far at first because of the 'stay in the house for a year' rule, but you had dates at all sorts of fancy places. even though you were technically a net-worth nigher than him,now, he always insisted on paying the bill. ever the gentleman.

grayson knew how to plan one himself. a personal favorite of yours had to be the picnic in a hot air balloon.

but once the year was up, the first place gray took you was to paris, which he knew was always your dream. paris now seemed like a mundane dream compared to all of the past year's events.

still, paris was absolutely incredible, and being there with your boyfriend made it better - and helpful because he was fluent in french while you barely passed the high school class with a B.

seeing the eiffel tower was the best part, it was even more amazing up close. standing there with grayson, the grays started to cloud, and small drizzles of water came down.

your bodyguard (one oren forcefully implanted) had advised you both to head to the car before it started pouring. you were ready to follow along, but gray tugged your sleeve, stopping your movement.

you gave him a questioning gaze, so he held out his hand, asking you to dance.

you laughed and accepted nonetheless, even when the rain started to pour in more. the two of you began a clumsy (on your part) waltz across the pavement. both of your faces filled with blissful smiles. to this day, it is a favorite memory of yours.

it was even better when grayson gifted you a photo of you two that day, one he asked the bodyguard to take. now, the picture was framed next to the one grayson had taken & grayson hung a copy of it at the hawthorne foundation.

since dating, grayson's insomnia has improved immensely. it mainly had to do with the fact you two frequently sleep in his bed together. he jokes your his personal nyquil.

it's true when they say he sleeps like a deadman, even has a tiny snore - though he keep denying it. but he has some sort of sixth sense that enables him to know when you leave the bed.

like for instance, you needed to use the bathroom one night, and the moment you got up from the bed - grayson is up and asking where you were going.

the swimming lessons were not forgotten - you two still had that nightly routine. but you weren't becoming a michael phelps anytime soon. not when most of your lessons involved more kissing than swimming.

but hey, at least you've moved past the need for floaties. because grayson just carries you himself if it's too deep for you to swim.

he loves to buy anything that reminds him of you. a jewelry piece that matches your eyes, a dress he thinks would look pretty on you, a shift from your favorite film/show/artist, or even an item you offhandedly mentioned you wanted. he'd have them wrapped and ready to give to you the next moment he saw you.

much to our surprise, grayson was also the clingy type. his love language was more gift-giving but doesn't mean he wasn't a bit touch-starved.

he revels in hugs, kisses, and intimate moments. he always wants to hold hands when you both are walking together. jameson and nash love to tease him on it.

he has as a domestic side to him. he helps you put on your coat or even sometimes makes you wear it, keeps you on the side of the sidewalk not near the street, carries your purse or shopping bags, and helping you slip on your heels and shoes.

overall, grayson hawthorne was nothing less of an amazing boyfriend. except when he sees eve for the first time.

you were in the office of the foundation looking over a few files when you saw tobias' name mentioned then initials at the bottom. 'T.T.H.'

"huh, i thought your grandfather didn't have middle name."

grayson looked over your shoulder, "oh, he didn't. at least not until had changed his legal name less than a year before his passing."

"what is it?"

"tatersall. quite peculiar right?"

you laughed to yourself. perhaps he was trying to set you up with her grandson after all.

@itzchanelx @marigold-morelli

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fic #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x female reader #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #x reader #reader imagine #reader insert #x female reader

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apollos-boyfriend · 1 year

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modern art can be stupid. it can be pretentious. but by god if i am not angered every time i see some stuck-up kid look at a piece and say “oh i can do that” or dismiss it as “easy” or “lazy” just on appearance alone.

every time i see a comment like that i think of barnett newman’s “who’s afraid of red, yellow, and blue III”. newman specified in abstract expressionism, which is the same field as artists such as jackson pollock.

this is the original piece. it was part of a collection of works, all utilizing just the three primary colors in different ratios and compositions. it may not look it, but this piece is huge.

anyways. when it first premiered, people were pissed. they hated it. it was an affront to art, it was so easy, it had no meaning, it made them sick. it was just a huge red slab of paint with barely any contrast. the museum it hung in got tons of hate mail weekly from people writing in about how much they hated the piece. and one day, all that hatred built up, as someone took a box cutter to the piece, ruining the work. and people LOVED him for it. some even wrote in saying he should be the new museum director for his creative vision.

the painting sat for a while, torn apart. people were afraid to touch it. as easy as it may have looked, newman was an expert of his craft. the paint was evenly distributed throughout the whole canvas, with not a single brushstroke to be seen. that’s no easy feat. accomplishing that on a normal piece would be hard, but even harder as a restoration, because any imperfection would be instantly spotted against newman’s expertise.

finally, someone took up the job . . . by further ruining the piece. you see, when doing art restoration, it’s imperative that anything you do can be undone. art restoration should not be permanent. the restoration should be able to be removed, in case it needs to be restored again, or returned to its original state. and the guy who took up newman’s work? he used house paint. acrylic, the same type you’d use on your living room’s accent wall. and to top it all off, he didn’t use a paintbrush, like newman. he used a roller. he didn’t even bother to attempt to recreate newsman’s skills, and instead took the easy way out, only ruining the painting further.

and to top it all off? when the painting was put back up in museums, people hated it. but not for the reason they had before. now, they hated it because it was different. the new paint had none of the shine of its original, now a dull counterfeit of its predecessor. all of its depth was gone. and people were mad! they wanted their old piece back, the one that made them sick with anger to look at. they hated the original, but now, they hated its recreation even more, because it failed to instill the same emotion the original once did.

some modern art is lazy. most is not, and it’s been shown time and time again that, if you just take a second to analyze it and look into the artist’s methods, it’s something that takes a very high level of skill to accomplish. stop shitting on it just because some pretentious assholes exist.

#icarus speaks #hi sorry art lesson time #this is partially a continuation from the notes i left on carson’s post #and partially because of a tiktok i saw shitting on modern art #where someone saw a piece and said ‘i could make a print of that in 10 seconds’#WELL THE PAINTING ISNT A FUCKING PRINT IS IT #sure you could make that digitally in the blink of an eye BUT ITS NOT FUCKING DIGITAL #TRY DOING IT TRADITIONALLY AND SEE HOW IT TURNS OUT

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worldsetfree · 3 months

Text

Stardust Crusaders × Reader: Motion Pictures

(+ bonus card at the bottom of the cereal box!)

Finally, you and your travelling band of troubadours have arrived at a hotel for the first time in days. It's early in the evening, everybody's exhausted, so you decide to retire to your rooms early and decompress. But you want to take some time, either with the group or your special someone and unwind with a movie.

(Trying to stay as canon-compliant as possible, so only movies that came out in or before 1988. Enjoy! Feedback welcome.)

I. THE MAGICIAN

Muhammad Avdol hasn't watched a lot of movies tbh. Down for most anything. Spending time with you is the true privilege.

Tbh I am struggling so much with picking a movie for him. His favourite movie canonically is Midnight Run, so maybe he'd recommend something like From Russia With Love?

I think he would let you pick if it was only the two of you and just be happy for the time together. He is the sweetest of men.

Respectfully tender. You want to share a blanket? You want snacks? You want to kiss? He's prepared and willing for anything.

Toasty warm if you want to cuddle. Leaves him delightly flustered.

V. THE HIEROPHANT

Omg this bean. 💕 Kakyoin Noriaki wants you to watch something that is of great personal significance to him but he's fearful of rejection.

He'll pick something a little bit artsy (and maybe pretentious), but something he holds dear to his heart. But it's Kakyoin, and he's also kind of a weirdo. He's gonna pick something a little out there like Blade Runner. The Princess Bride?

Please, bear with him. He's doing his best. Does the movie fit the vibe? Maybe not. But it's about being next to you.

Wants to cuddle, is too nervous to ask. You're gonna have to be the bold one here.

Watch his face flush to match his hair if you pull him in close and kiss his cheek. He's gonna want to do this every night from now on.

VII. THE CHARIOT

Oh Lord, Jean Pierre Polnareff has been waiting for this moment. He wants to fall in love. This is his chance to woo you, mademoiselle.

Already has a running list of appropriately romantic movies. Settles on Dirty Dancing (he is incorrigible). He doesn't actually care about the movie, this is all just a scheme to set the mood.

Chatty as fuck during the movie. Sweet nothings in your ear and distracted commentary on the movie. His stream of consciousness, really. Wants to see you blush.

Offers to let you sit/put your head in his lap. C'est magnifique if you take him up on that.

He is a gentleman, he won't try anything you don't want. He is going to ask to kiss you, though. Even if it's not the first time you've kissed today. He can't help himself.

IX. THE HERMIT

Joseph Joestar is either trying to inspire the group with some big moral lesson or he's leaning on his comfort films in private with you. No in-between.

"Comfort films" means Indiana Jones. That's it. There's a new one coming out next year, you know? You'll go see it with him, right? He's just as handsome as Sean Connery!

He's gonna try the ol' big yawn and stretch into holding you trick. Thinks he's slick.

Somehow he's already eaten the snacks. Pest. Will get more if you ask nicely.

The type of man who waits til you're very engrossed in the movie, then distracts you by kissing your neck. Success may vary. What do you mean Indiana Jones doesn't get you in the mood?

XVII. THE STAR

Good grief, why do you have to do this right now? Kujo Jotaro is tired and wants to sleep. You're so needy.

(He's thrilled by the idea and would love to turn his brain off for a night).

In front of the guys, he wants to watch some cool action movie. Top Gun? Yojimbo? More of a cinephile than he lets on. In private, he is more comfortable being the dork we know he is. Might suggest detective fiction or a documentary.

Adores these quiet moments of respite. Will play with your hair. Pamper him a little bit with soft affection and see his brows finally relax right before your eyes.

Will end up falling asleep on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you. Will beat up anybody that tries to tease him about it. RIP Joseph

0. THE FOOL

(He's a dog. Obviously platonic)

You're done. Fuck these guys. Fuck this whole trip. They have tried your patience for the last time today.

You and Iggy will cuddle up on a soft hotel bed and watch a Disney movie or something and have a self-care night.

Do a face mask. Realign your chakras. Enjoy strange flavours of gum. Live your best life.

Iggy is suprisingly okay with this turn of events. He lays in your lap and lets you pet him. Finally, he has found peace.

The men are distraught grumpy about missing out on this. Open the door, please. They're sorry, they promise they won't fuck up and do any stupid shit without listening to you again. Please!

Bonus Card:

IV. THE EMPORER

Baby, he's never wanted to do anything more in his life. He swears! Hol Horse loves taking time to unwind with you!

You already know this man is going to try to charm you with a spaghetti western. Fistful of Dollars it is.

THIS AIN'T HIS FIRST RODEO. He's already got all the pieces together to make this a proper romantic night. Popcorn? Check. Comfy seating? Check. Cologne? Check. Handsome smile? Baby, you're screwed.

Takes it slow, lets you make the first move. Will make you swoon.

Like a bandit, he is gone in the morning, with a note telling you he'll be back again soon and to keep him in your heart. ♡

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #part 3 #mohammed avdol #noriaki kakyoin #jotaro kujo #jean pierre polnareff #iggy jjba #hol horse #jean pierre polnareff x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #kakyoin noriaki × reader #joseph joestar x reader #old joseph joestar #muhammad avdol x reader #hol horse × reader #ramblingsfromzawarudo

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topguncortez · 1 year

Note

“You’re in denial.” “i am not in denial” giving all the idiot rooster vibes😂

also “friends kiss each other all the time, right?” is such a good one!

pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female!Reader genre: fluffy prompts list! | master prompts list Rooster Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Jake always thought it was slightly weird how you and Bradley interacted. Currently, you were sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped around your waist, hand resting on your thigh. The rest of the dagger squad were say around the fire that they had built on the beach. It was now fall in San Diego and it had started to get cooler at night.

You and Bradley were friends, the best of friends. You had met each other during your freshman year at UVA. Bradley had spotted you in a classroom full of NROTC students. He spotted you fairly quickly, seeing as you were one of two females in the class. He sat down next to you on the very first day, and the two of you hit it off right away. You were nearly four years younger than Bradley.

Jake’s eyes widened as you whispered something to Bradley, and then kissed him before getting off his lap. Bradley watched you walk away with his baby cow brown eyes. He could feel someone staring and turned his head to see Jake eyeing him down.

“What?”

“The fuck you mean ‘wHaT’? You just kissed her,” Jake said.

“Okay,” Bradley shrugged and drank his beer, “Friends kiss each other all the time, right?”

Jake rolled his eyes, “Yeah me and Bob swap spit every tuesday night.”

“Hey,” Bob interjected.

“Dude, you’re in love with her,” Jake said and Bradley laughed, “You are! How long you been banging her?”

“I’m not-“ Jake raised his eyebrows and Bradley sighed, “Like 8 ish years, i don’t know. Freshman year of college.”

"DUDE!" Jake exclaimed, and Bradley rolled his eyes.

"I'm not in love with her," Bradley sipped his beer, "We are best friends."

Jake shook his head, "You are in denial."

"I am not in denial-"

"Yes you are," Jake said, "Bob could take his glasses off and still see it. . . You're scared."

Bradley looked up at his friend, "Of course I'm fucking scared. She's my best friend. I can't lose her. She's the one constant in my life. She's never gone away. She's the one that I can count on to be there when I come home," Bradley shook his head, standing up, "So, if I have to pretend to like whatever pretentious fuckwad she brings home and listen when he breaks her heart and push my feelings away, than so be it. It means that I don't get to lose her cause she doesn't feel the same."

"So you'd let yourself be miserable for me?"

"Yes, because I love her," The voice the question came from didn't register at first, but when it did Bradley turned around to see you standing there, looking at him with tears in your eyes, "Wait- Y/N?"

"You stupid, stupid man, Bradshaw," You shook your head and grabbed the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and brought him in for a kiss. He froze for a second, but his arms wrapped around your waist to bring you in close to his body.

"How much did you hear?" Bradley asked pulling away from you.

"Every last word," You said, "And here I was, thinking that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

"For two people who claim to be best friends, y'all don't have good communication skills," Jake piped up from behind Rooster, "Ow! What did you hit me for?"

"You're ruining a moment, Bagman," Bob spoke up. You laughed and rest your head against Rooster's chest.

"Bradshaw," You said and looked up at those puppy dog brown eyes that you loved so much.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Take me to bed or lose me forever."

A/N: IM OUT OF TUMBLR JAIL:)))

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sgiandubh · 6 months

Note

Hello how are you? I follow several shippers' blogs and I noticed that every now and then some bloggers publish hateful messages they received. My question is about mental health: how do you deal with it? I understand that your presence here is relatively recent, but have you ever regretted something?

Dear Mental Health Anon,

This is the kind of submissions I welcome with all my heart, because they are benevolent and witty. Forgive me already for what I suspect will be a long answer. It is not the pleasure of hearing me talk that prompts them, but the sincere intention to answer deserving asks as clearly, fully and honestly as I can.

The short answer is : I am fine, Fall is slowly coming and nights are starting to be really chilly. There's some light rain tapping on the roof of my flat and I will spend my week-end wandering around some of my favorite places on Earth. And now, onwards to the consistent and interesting ask of yours...

The worst trolling message I have ever seen in this fandom is the one I am immediately going to post below, because I think it should serve us all as warning and reminder. It was posted on a blog I have been reading from the beginning of my long lurking days on Tumblr: @cb4tb is one of the most balanced and articulate people in this corner of the Internet. I remember being shocked by its cold and very coherent violence. The feat of a casebook sociopath, who thinks her asks in Spanish (I am 200% certain about it) and who has an appalling command of English grammar. Written on Christmas' Eve and on purpose:

Compared to the alarming slander @cb4tb got (whatever for is a mystery, she is non conflictual and posts very witty business insights) on a day that should be completely taboo for every civilized human being (you don't need to believe in God to respect one of Christianity's most important celebrations), whatever hate I could get in here is definitely subpar. Most of it did not make it on my page and went straight to the bin. But it's not always easy: I am as human as you, Anon, and sometimes I feel personally insulted and revolted by the smugness and pettiness of it all. However, I must immediately add their hate never made me give up an inch of my convictions. They are the result of a long interval of watching and pondering, coupled with my own observations I gladly share with like-minded women all around the world. That often hits a nerve or bruises overinflated egos on the Other Side. So be it: I am not here to be meek and obedient, if I never was meek and obedient in real life. I am here to bring clarity and build trust, which incidentally resonates very closely to what I do for a living. That probably rates me as a moderate on the shipper spectrum, in the sense that by complete design I put aside some divisive topics I firmly chose not to discuss. I am not interested to bring attention on me, in here, and the least thing I'd like is to be a vector of discord. So that would also rate me as a peacemaker of sorts - and yes, that sounds perhaps pretentious, but I believe it is needed, especially now.

I only felt a clear intention to threaten me twice, both in DM. The first time it curiously came from one extreme fringe of the shipper community and I brushed it off, because it was an empty, almost ridiculous threat. I politely denied and that was it - two persons blocked me and there were no other consequences to it. The second time, an anti came to confront me on an irrelevant point, with a very aggressive undertone. I blocked and almost forgot about it. If you have it clear enough in your mind that such things cannot be avoided and, at the same time, you know that your own moral compass is not compromised, these details will not affect you. At all. I confidently promise you that. Last but not least: if you are not great with compartmentalizing, don't step in the arena. It can seriously ruffle your self-esteem and it's not worth it.

So this is how I deal with it: I focus on what I have to say (does it bring something new? interesting? positive? thought-provoking?), on the way of saying it (above all, be kind and gracious to every other shipper) and on the right moment to say it (only when I am honestly sure I can do it with no unwanted consequences). But I will stand in solidarity with any shipper (any single one of them) who is humiliated, belittled or disparaged, with not a single shred of fear in the world. And I would also fend for myself if necessary, if I am getting over-the-top slander: all the other yapping, I ignore. Sometimes (often, even) it's more interesting to watch.

And if anything else fails, I go for a long drive and have a coffee at the seaside or simply open a book or listen to some Bach or call Someone. Or take this little big guy out for a lazy walk in the park:

You ask me if I regret anything. Absolutely not. I have received more than I could ever give, in here. I have met spectacular women and men, I have grown very fond of and feel very close to. I have had the immense satisfaction of sharing their secrets, their worries, their plans and this means trust, in my book, for which I will never tire saying how grateful I am. I also strived to respond in kind and I mean to honor this unwritten contract. Last but not least, I have watched this community slowly dusting off months of sadness and perhaps starting to open up again.

And all of this makes me damn proud of who we are, Anon. Thank you for dropping by! You are always welcome on my page.

#Anon

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imtrashraccoon · 3 months

Text

He's here, he's here, he's here!!! I love this pretentious guy so much! This chapter is certainly a different one though...

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Nightmare - Sunset

Word Count: 2,296

You opened your eyes to find yourself laying in a field underneath a cloudless sky. Sitting up, you looked around and discovered the field seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

The grass was a blueish colour and rather soft to the touch but it was completely unlike anything you'd seen before. Some of the plants had small white flowers that kind of reminded you of cotton, otherwise it was just straight grass all around. Every now and then a warm gust of breeze would cause the grass to move in a wave like pattern and tease your own hair.

The sky was a shade of brilliant gold and you soon spotted the sun, that was just about to dip below the horizon. It felt comforting and you closed your eyes for a moment to just bask in the last of its warm rays.

A few birds darted across the sky overhead and your eyes followed them until they disappeared over the horizon. They looked like red wing blackbirds and you noticed there seemed to be both males and females flying together. Somewhere off in the distance, you heard an unknown animal make a yipping sound like they were play fighting with a sibling.

You stood up and looked around a bit more. It appeared that the terrain wasn't completely flat and while the grass seemed to only be about a foot tall, you could see places where it appeared to be taller. Most of the white flowers seemed to be taller than the blades of grass as well.

It was very peaceful here...wherever here was...

You couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved at how quiet it was. Were you even on Earth anymore? You didn't know of anywhere that looked like this but you hadn't been everywhere in the world yet.

"Hello human."

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end from the sound of the deep, almost velvety voice. They sounded calm at the moment and yet there was a layer of danger in their tone.

You slowly turned around to face the mysterious voice.

It was another skeleton but he didn't look at all like the others you'd met. While the boys were pretty similar to human skeletons, this guy's bones appeared to be either completely black or covered in a substance similar to what often seeped from Killer's eye sockets. He only appeared to have one cyan eyelight in his left socket while his right one was obscured by that inky substance. You didn't know if he was blind in that socket or not, and you weren't about to ask either. The most striking thing about him though, was the four black tentacles that protruded from his back.

He was dressed differently from your friends as well. Instead of a blue hoodie and shorts, he wore a rather fancy looking dark overcoat, a gold circlet with a black moon adorned his skull, and he had gold rings on his phalanges, which ended in claws.

He seemed to radiate a sort of intimidating aura and just by looking at him, you felt a wave of dread pass through you. His good eye socket was narrowed and he had a bit of a tight smile across his face. Unfortunately, you couldn't tell if he was upset or not right now.

You clenched your fists at your sides and took a deep breath to steady your nerves. At least you weren't at knife point or being pinned down, although you couldn't be sure how long that would last.

"Am I wrong to assume that you're Nightmare?" you asked.

His grin grew wider into more of a smirk. "Indeed. I see my reputation has proceeded me."

Some more blackbirds flew overhead and he glanced up at them in a thoughtful way. He folded his arms behind his back and if you didn't already know he was a god, you definitely knew now from the way he was holding himself. His tentacles slowly undulated in a restless sort of way and you found yourself wondering if he was doing that on purpose or if the tentacles had a mind of their own.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said.

You nodded and fiddled with your fingernails nervously. "I'd appreciate it... At this point, I've nearly been decapitated, pinned against walls, and threatened at knife point. So unless you're going to do something else, I've seen it all."

"So I've heard..."

You didn't like how casual he was being about this situation. The others had all threatened your life on multiple occasions and yet here he was acting all casual like you were an acquaintance. It made you feel like a pit had formed in your gut.

Nightmare took a few slow steps towards you and tilted his skull in a thoughtful way. Interestingly, he appeared to be between Dust and Killer in matters of height, yet he was still a couple inches taller than you were. His tentacles also added a few extra inches to his height but you didn't count them.

"I've known about you from the very beginning, long before you ever knew about any of my other henchmen."

You swallowed thickly but continued to stand your ground. "So then why didn't you do anything?" you asked in a small voice.

"Because, I wanted to see how things would play out. Now that all three of my boys have come to a consensus about you, I had to come meet you in person..."

He chuckled and motioned to the surrounding field before adding, "Well, not exactly in person. This is actually a dream I specifically crafted for you."

"Huh." You looked around at the grass before looking back at the sunset again. "That explains why the sun hasn't moved a bit since I woke up at least."

Turning back to Nightmare, you smiled slightly. "This is a really pretty place though. You do good work."

He seemed rather pleased by your compliment if the way he slightly puffed out his chest a bit more was any indication. He cleared his non-existent throat and his expression returned to a more neutral one moments later.

"I didn't just bring you here to show off," he said in a more serious voice. "There is something important that you need to know..."

"I didn't think so..." You sighed and crossed your arms. "So lay it on me. What's the real issue?"

He took a few steps closer until your bodies were practically touching and he could leer over you in an admittedly intimidating way. He stood there in silence for several long seconds studying you.

"You were never meant to meet any of them. You are what some would call a side character in another's story. You exist to be a cog in the machine that drives your world forward and nothing more."

His single cyan pinprick seemed to stare into the very depths of your soul as he paused to let this revelation sink in. "Despite this, you have proven to be...exceptional, even among humans. I am frankly impressed that you managed to befriend my henchmen, despite everything they put you through."

"I think I've shaved several years off my life just dealing with Killer alone..." you muttered under your breath.

Nightmare chuckled quietly and gave you a knowing look. "There is one problem though," he continued. "Their constant coming and going the way they have been has caused extensive damage to the code that makes up this world. It has gotten to the point where it could collapse in on itself without warning."

"What?"

"Just that, not even I could do anything to fix things." He paused for a moment and studied you while you tried to process it all.

"You've gotta be kidding..." you started to say although you trailed off when he shook his skull.

"I have no reason to lie to you, human. If I didn't tell you now, you wouldn't have any idea until it's too late."

You sighed and glanced around helplessly. "Why are you telling me this?" you finally asked. "What do you get out of telling me something so awful?"

He chuckled softly, the sound of which sent chills down your spine. "I love it when people can tell I want something from them," he hummed. "I'm telling you because I would like to offer you a deal."

You crossed your arms. "There it is...what do you want from me?"

His permanent grin widened. "You have two options, human. Either you can stay in this world with everyone you've ever known until it inevitably collapses or...you can join me and break free from the limits of your own code."

You couldn't help but stare at him. The way he'd phrased it sounded so simple and yet you were immediately suspicious. You hadn't exactly heard any nice things about him, so why was he acting so...nice?

"Wow..." you finally managed to say. "So let me get this straight, you show up and tell me my world is doomed. Then, you conveniently tell me you know how to make everything better. Yeah, no, what's the catch?"

"Let's just say that there's something about you that I find interesting. I know the benefits of making fair deals and I always, always keep my word." He subtly rubbed his phalanges on his coat and glanced down at his claws.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. If he really was telling the truth, you had an idea of what might have grabbed his attention about you. He seemed like a brick wall though and you couldn't tell if he was lying or not. You couldn't even sense any emotions from him either, save for that intense aura.

"I don't trust you..." you murmured.

He tilted his skull and smiled at you. "It's your decision at the end of the day. So, I'll give you some time to think about it, however..." His tone turned icy and his smile widened considerably before he added in a lower voice, "I only have so much patience, human..."

Two of his tentacles began to slowly snake around your back as he spoke. You tried to pull away but his grip was firm and you couldn't budge. You shuddered and had to look away from him, the sight of which only seemed to make him pleased.

"I will continue to visit you in your dreams until you come to a decision. Although, I'm afraid with the state of your world's code, I won't be letting my henchmen keep making these trips to see you for their safety. You understand I'm sure..."

You hated how he was appealing to your sense of reason. You'd probably do the same in his shoes to protect your friends, granted, he was their boss and not their friend. At least he wasn't making you choose right now...

He released you and stepped away, folding his arms behind his back again. "I'm confident you'll make the correct decision," he said with a tone that sounded like he was just about finished here.

Your eyes widened and without really thinking, you reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait! Don't go yet..."

You felt his body stiffen slightly and he glanced at your hand before his gaze flicked to you. He stayed quiet but there was an unamused look in his cyan eyelight. You'd better not say something stupid and risk making him upset right now...

"I can see that you care about your boys, in your own way at least, but how is this fair to them? Do they even know what you've just told me?" you asked.

He narrowed his eye socket but didn't pull away from you. "I elected to meet with you first, but I have every intention to tell them as soon as I take my leave. I am certain they won't like it any more than you do."

You were grasping at straws here but your mind was desperate for answers that may not even exist. He wanted you for your Intent, right? Apparently, you were different from other humans and he thought it was enough to offer a deal that would potentially save your life.

"What happens if I accept your deal?"

Nightmare chuckled and one of his tentacles curled around your wrist, so you couldn't let go of him now even if you wanted to. "Now that's a curious question, hm? It all depends on you though. No doubt you know what I do and what my henchmen do for me. What happens if you accept, depends on what you can bring to the table..."

That was a non-answer if you ever heard one. You opened your mouth to retort when he reached over and actually patted you on your head.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to actually empathize with me like you have the others. Though it is amusing to watch you try," he nearly purred in a tone that sounded a bit condescending. "It sort of comes with the mantle of being a god among mortals I'm afraid."

You narrowed your eyes at him and had to bite your tongue. The last thing you wanted to do right now was offend him. At least you were capable of restraining yourself compared to certain people.

He let go of you and flashed a smile that was anything but reassuring. "I will see you soon, human..."

The next thing you knew, you were in your own bed and no longer in that field. The gravity of what you'd learned was weighing down your mind but you were too tired to make an actual decision right now. There was something else on your mind though.

You were determined to befriend him.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dreamtale #nightmare sans #nightmare #nightmare x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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