#to love and to cherish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chahnniesroom · 2 months ago

Text

to love and to cherish

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: chan comforts you when you have a bad day and are struggling with insecurity.

word count: 1.6k

tags/warnings: sad, hurt/comfort, reader is depressed

a/n: this fic was inspired by this reel and this reel. portions of the dialogue were taken directly from them. i actually had a super cute lee know fic planned for this title in the collection, but never got around to writing it so here you go instead 😅 this is the last fic for this collection, thank you to everyone who has read it!

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Chan has resigned himself to a life that's the opposite of routine. Between comebacks, promotions, and tours, there's always something new to juggle.

He wouldn't have it any other way, but sometimes he craves an ordinary life.

That's one of the things he loves about you. How he can come home and get lost in the simplicity of cooking dinner, going grocery shopping, or folding laundry together. One of his favourite things is being able to spend a quiet night in with you.

As a regular office worker, your schedule is more predictable. You leave at the same time every morning and although you often have to work overtime, it’s a manageable amount.

In the beginning of your relationship, Chan often felt guilty about how chaotic his life was in comparison to yours and always felt that that it made him seem unreliable. It’s still something he worries about from time to time, but after a couple of years, the two of you have learned how to balance it all.

—

Chan knows something is wrong when he gets home and all the lights are off. He can tell that you’re home because he can see your shoes neatly lined up by the door and your work bag is hanging off one of the kitchen chairs.

He carefully takes his shoes off and makes his way further into the apartment, trying to stay quiet in case you’re sleeping. He feels his heart clench when he finds you awake instead, curled up in bed with tears running down your face. Even though you haven’t seen him yet, he can tell that you’re suppressing your cries, trying not to make a sound.

“Baby,” he says gently, kneeling on the floor beside you to get your attention without spooking you. “What's wrong?”

“Channie?” you look up at him with a sniffle. “How come you're home?”

“Nothing important, just tell me, what's got you so upset?”

You shake your head instead of responding, burrowing further into the makeshift nest that you’ve created by piling all the pillows and blankets into one side of the bed. Just the very top of your head is visible and even though he's concerned about how you're acting, Chan can’t help but think of how adorable you are. He extends a hand out and, when you don’t pull away, strokes through the bit of hair that’s still exposed.

“Did you have a hard time at work?” he asks.

“Mmm, no it was okay.” Your voice is faint, muffled by the blankets and hoarse from crying. Chan tries not to think of how long you must have been like this for your throat to be in such bad condition.

“Did you get any bad news? Is your family okay? DId something happen to one of your friends?”

The longer you stay silent, the more scared that Chan gets. He doesn't want to overwhelm you so he feels bad that he's practically bombarding you with questions. It's just that his mind is racing, thinking of every terrible thing that could have happened between when he had kissed you on your forehead as a goodbye this morning to now.

“Did I-” Chan asks tentatively. “Did I do something to make you upset?”

That’s what finally gets you to reply.

“I'm just having a bad day,” you say softly.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Chan asks, immediately in problem-solving mode. “Did you eat yet? I can make us something and we can watch a movie or-”

You interrupt the beginnings of Chan’s rambling by reaching out and wrapping a hand around Chan’s wrist, tugging him towards where you’re lying.

“Just stay with me.”

Chan is quick to obey. He strips off his hoodie and pants before settling in beside where you're curled up. When you rearrange the blankets and shift to lean against Chan, he gathers you into his arms and tucks your head under his chin.

Neither of you say anything for a while. Chan focuses on controlling this breathing and is relieved when you slowly match him.

Chan can tell that you need a bit more time to calm down and he knows that you'll talk when you're ready, if you want to talk at all. He feels a pang of regret for not realising earlier that you were struggling so much today.

“I'm sorry that I'm depressed,” you say all of a sudden.

“Why are you apologising?” Chan asks, genuinely confused. “You have nothing to apologise for, it's not like you chose to be depressed.”

“I just- Don't you ever wish that I was more normal?”

“What?”

“I mean, you could easily find someone else to date, someone better-”

“I'm going to have to stop you there,” Chan says firmly. “Yes, I could find someone else to date, you could too. But I don’t want to, you’re the one that’s best for me, you’re the one I want to be with. I chose you.”

“Yeah, but you chose the old me, the happy version of me. I- I’m not good to date right now.”

“I chose you and I will continue to choose you. You’re still you even if you’re depressed. Depression doesn’t decrease your worth or make you any less lovable than when I first met you.”

“But it sucks that you have to take care of me like this, that you have to deal with all my bad days.”

“I don’t like it when you have a bad day either, but it’s not because I don’t want to take care of you. A part of any close relationship is taking care of each other and I would do even more if it would help your depression. I just wish there was something I could do to make it so that you never have a bad day again. And it’s not like I’m always looking after you, you take care of me all the time too,” Chan reminds you.

“But that’s different,” you mumble, turning to hide your face in Chan’s shoulder.

“Is it?” Chan asks. Instead of trying to coax you into looking at him, he just wraps his arms around you tighter, rubbing slow circles onto your back. “You took on all the cooking and cleaning when I injured my wrist, even though the doctor said I could still do everyday tasks.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue. “You injured yourself and had to rest, otherwise you wouldn’t heal as quickly.”

“You help me when my insomnia is bad and I can’t sleep at night. I used to feel so bad because I knew that you would get scolded at work for showing up so tired after staying up with me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” you say quickly. “I wanted to, you didn’t make me stay up.”

“Just like how I want to help you,” Chan reminds you. “I know what you’re going through is difficult and I want to do anything I can to make it easier for you.”

“But what if I’m like this forever?” you ask in a small voice. “What if I’m always sad?”

“Listen, just because this is how things are now, does not mean things will always be this way, okay? I know it can be hard to think that way, but I’ll always be here to remind you.”

"It just feels like I'm never going to get better."

"What does getting better mean to you?"

"Being back to what I was like in the past, when I was happier."

"I think if you look at it that way, you won't be satisfied. But I see you, I see your progress. You've been seeing a therapist, and I know they have helped you a lot. You've told me that the medications you've been taking have improved how and what you feel."

"I guess," you say reluctantly.

"I see that you're trying. You won't always be happy. That's natural. The important thing is that you'll learn that you can experience disappointment or misfortune, that bad things will happen, but you will still survive. I know that it's hard, but I'll be here alongside you."

“Can you promise me something?” you ask tentatively, peeking out to look at Chan.

“Anything,” he agrees immediately.

“If you ever get tired of all this, of me, promise that you’ll tell me. Promise me that you’ll leave. I don’t want you to feel trapped in this relationship.”

“As long as you do the same to me,” Chan says.

“What? I wouldn’t ever have to-” you start to object.

“And I don’t think I will either.”

“I’m sorry that you have to always reassure me,” you say quietly.

“I told you, I don’t mind-”

“I think this is the worst version of me,” you say all of a sudden. You hold your breath, as if you’re bracing for Chan’s reply. He doesn’t even have to think to respond.

“I feel safe with the worst version of you.”

You’re quiet for so long that Chan starts to worry that he didn’t say the right thing. He shouldn’t have made it sound like he agrees that this is the worst version of you, he should have reassured you more he-

“I feel safe with you too,” you finally reply and Chan knows that everything is going to be alright.

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year ago

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To Love and To Cherish (I)

Part 9 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: Smut (18+), CNC Play, masturbation (f), practice of future CNC play.

A/N: Hoping to get To love and to cherish (II) out soon.

Something’s shifted.

It’s intoxicating being in the same room with him, you can barely think straight in his presence.

When he wakes up in the morning, to get dressed for work, you wake too, and you watch him.

It’s training day, and he has to go in extra early, but the time doesn’t stop you, you wake, and you watch him quietly, as he steps out of the shower with his torso bare, delicious snake tattoo on display for you.

He puts on a show for you, one towel snug around his hips and another smaller one for his hair. You don’t hesitate, propping your body on two pillows, tossing the covers off.

He pauses, glancing in the mirror to make eye contact with you when he sees the movement.

You hold his gaze, tugging your dress up to expose your lower half to the open air.

His eyes are dangerous, warning you not to push your luck.

But you want his anger, you want his rage, you want his darkness.

You slip your hand between your legs.

His throat bobs as he swallows, and after a moment, he resumes his routine while you massage your clit gently behind him.

You watch him easily, delicate fingers roaming over your swollen bud, gentle, featherlight, content to observe him and nothing more.

Your body burns, begging you to go faster to get yourself off, but you know, just like he knows, that it’s not going to happen until he can.

You watch him slide his boxers on, then his socks, pants next, and you hum delightfully at the way he looks, messy, with his white shirt open exposing a part of his chest and abdomen.

You want to lick the trail of hair below his navel, your fingers speeding up.

When you whine a second time, he turns his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye as you stare at him in the reflection of the floor length mirror.

You know what it means, you’re taking too many liberties, and you stop the motion of your fingers automatically.

He faces forward again, buttoning his shirt slowly.

When he’s done with that, he steps into his closet for a tie. He brings back two options, leaning against the bed as he holds them out for you. One is a dark mauve, and the other a slate grey, you tilt your head, observing the colour of his pants before you raise your hand, slick with the arousal from your cunt, and run your fingers on the back of the purple tie.

He drops the other tie on the bed beside you, sliding the tie you selected around his neck. Your fingers glide right back between your legs, tormenting your body for his pleasure.

He steps away again, grabs cufflinks and a watch, drops them on the bed and presents one wrist for your assistance.

You look him right in the eye when you reach for a cufflink, your fingers sticky with your arousal. Pressing them into his sleeve. They’re silver, and as you squint in the early hours of the morning, you notice a snake engraved onto it.

You look up at him, breath halting in your chest at his expression, his lips curled into a gentle smile, his eyes so dark you swear they take up all the light in the room.

You look down, reaching for the other cufflink, and then his watch.

His hands are… gorgeous, and you turn his palm upward so that you can press your cheek against it. A blissful sigh leaves your lips, his rough palm on your cheek and you delight in how whole you feel, your fingers going right back to that spot that craves him so desperately.

“Tell me something else that you know about me.” You beg, looking up at him.

His eyelids flutter for a moment.

“I've seen your porn preferences. I know what you touch yourself to the most.” Billy answers.

Your mouth parts in shock, but your fingers don't stop their glide on your clit, eager for the information.

When he reads your reaction, and determines it's not one of real fear, he decides to take it further.

He pulls his hand from your cheek, pushing you back until you hit the bed with a gasp, he hovers over you ominously, and the same hand that was just cupping your cheek gently, rises to grip your jaw firmly.

“You like hearing that? I know what dirty things you look at while you play with that little cunt. I know what no one else knows about you, I've read the porn you get wet to. Does that turn you on?”

You whine, fingers moving faster on your clit as you nod.

He releases your jaw, reaching down, he grabs your wrist to pull your fingers from between your thighs.

“Enough.” He growls lowly, and you feel a shiver of bliss traverse your spine.

After a few moments, you come to your senses just a little, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

You pant, watching his hands release your wrist, his fingers trailing down your forearm, and up to your shoulder.

He slips his fingers under the strap of your dress, sliding it down your shoulder, tugging at it, until your breast is almost exposed but not yet.

His hand presses to your shoulder next, thumb roving over the exposed skin.

“Do you like… bondage?” He whispers, the tips of his fingers dragging gently on your skin.

You shiver, tilting your head to the side to let his fingers explore you. You nod subtly.

His hand wraps around your throat.

“Words.”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper in a rush, “I like the idea of being tied up.”

“Why?” He pries.

“Helpless.” You stutter out, a little ashamed.

His eyes are dark, overwhelming in a way that makes you feel like you've been holding your breath. Your vision swims, hypnotized by him.

His mouth curves up into a devious smile.

“You wanna be helpless for your husband?”

Your body throbs as you whisper your affirmative.

Then he blinks, and the darkness in his eyes recede, he leans down, a quick kiss to your lips.

“Three more days.” He promises, before he straightens his body, leaving you in the next moment, dishevelled, and barely breathing.

He pulls your hands behind your back, keeping them locked together in his grip while he pushes your shoulder, forcing you to bend over his desk until your cheek presses against the cool wood.

You stay there for a second, trying to breathe through your arousal, your panties already ruined from a few minutes ago when he was asking your permission to do this.

“How was that?” He asks softly, loosening his grip on your wrists.

You make a little shake of your head.

“Harder.” You whisper.

“Sure?” He checks.

“Please.”

He grips your wrists once more, pulling you up, his other hand gripping the back of your hair to manipulate your body better, walks you over to his floor length windows, his movements a little more forceful, and doesn’t stop until your cheek is pressed securely to it.

“Better?” He asks.

“Uh-huh,” You mewl, cheekbone aching a little with the pressure, “Hit the glass.”

His hand slips from your hair, he spins you around, so easily manhandling you in a way that has your legs wobbling while you try to keep up.

You’re looking right into his eyes when his palm slams against the glass right beside your head. It makes a deep sound, you can feel the vibration of it against the glass. It makes you press your thighs together tightly in response, something tugging harshly inside of you.

He leans in, a stern expression on his face as he gets close.

“Did my little plaything like that?”

You close your eyes, nodding your head frantically.

“Two days.” He promises, a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

“One more day.” He whispers into your ear, standing behind you, he pulls your hair away so that he can place soft kisses on the nape of your neck.

You giggle, tilting your neck to give him better access.

“Someone is going to see us.” You warn him, as you stand in Anvil's rooftop restaurant, looking out the window at the skyline.

“I love how you think that would stop me.” He teases between kisses, “Anyway, what's one more day? I'm sure I'm well enough now. We can go back to my office and get rid of all this… frustration.”

You glance around to make sure that no one’s around, the late time of day helps with that.

“I wanna see a signed note from your doctor before you’re allowed to do anything. Besides,” You turn, wrapping your hands around his neck, watching his smile as he looks at you, “Wouldn’t it be a little sad if we waited this long, only for our first time to be in your office?”

“Oh, suddenly you don’t like my office? I can recall a lot of times you begged for me there.”

You scoff in amusement.

“I’m just saying, we should make the next time special.”

“It’s going to be.” He promises, with no elaboration.

His face takes on a serious expression, glancing away for a moment, deep in thought. You study him, waiting patiently for what you can see he’s building up the courage to say.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, softly.

Of course you did, more than anything, Billy knew you in a way that no one else did, he understood you, on levels that no other person could. Of course you trusted him.

Whether you should, was a different debate.

“I trust you.” You confirm.

“Sure? You know, we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know. I promise you I know that.”

“Mrs. Russo?” The barista interrupts, “Your order is ready.”

“I love when people call you that.” Billy murmurs when you pull your hands from around his neck to step away.

You loved it too.

Billy holds your body tightly to his as you finish up lunch. His arms are wound around you as you lean against him.

You sigh, tucked against his body, feeling so safe and cared for, his arm resting easily on your shoulder, your eyes slip shut to help you relax.

“So, I kind of have a question for you.” Billy hums, his voice close to your ear.

“Hmm?” You ask, reaching up to link your hand with his.

“Can I have your wedding ring back?”

Your eyes spring open.

Before you can even ask for clarification, he’s speaking again.

“Only temporarily, I want to add something to it.” He explains.

You raise your other hand, examining the ring, you feel him press closer.

“It’s beautiful on your hand.” He murmurs.

You smile, because you know he can’t see it, you let your emotions show on your face. His left hand moves, reaching so that your fingers can interlock. Your rings glitter together beside each other.

You love the way they look, the little star etchings, the small sapphires, the way your rings look like extensions of each other.

“You can’t leave my finger bare, I’ll miss the ring too much.”

He makes a little chuckle.

“So I should have bought a replacement?”

“Not necessarily, you just have to put something there to keep the spot warm- like a rubber band or something.”

“I am not gonna wrap some shitty rubber band around your pretty finger.”

Glee fills you.

“So what then?”

“Umm..” He starts, pulling his hands away so that he can check his pockets for something, he glances at his desk, searching for ideas, before he tugs a little pocket knife out of his pants pocket and then tugs the small pocket square out of the breast pocket of his jacket that’s draped over the arm of the couch.

You sit up, watching him as he carefully slides the knife through the edge of the fabric and raises a small strip of silk cloth for you to see.

Your eyebrows lift in amusement, and you put your hand in his when he asks. His fingers wrap around the ring and you curl your fingers for a second, thinking about it for a moment, before relaxing.

He slips the ring from your finger so easily that you hate it. He makes it better by tying the strip of silk around your finger comfortably and cutting off the excess fabric.

It doesn't feel the same, your finger uncomfortably bare. You curl your hand into a fist, trying to force your familiarity.

He's studying you raptly when you look up at him, his head is tilted to the side in observation.

“What?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, a smile curling on his lips.

“I'm just admiring how sad you look without my ring.”

You give him a look of annoyance.

He grins.

“Come here.” He says, reaching for you, gripping your hips and tugging you onto his lap. You adjust your body accordingly so that you straddle his hips.

He grips the back of your head, pulling you down so that your lips meet.

He groans into your mouth, and you hum in response, your hands cupping his rough cheeks.

“My wife.” He hums between kisses, and you smile, deepening your kiss, Feeling his arms wrap tighter around you.

Your stomach tingles, hearing him say those words, you nod into your kiss, trying to tell him that yes, you were his wife, without having to say it.

More and more you were coming to understand how much you loved him, that every time you checked, you found it to be deeper than before.

He pulls back a little but you're not having it, kissing him harder, slipping your tongue past his lips.

Billy groans, feeling your urgency, responding to it with the tightening of his grip. He slides his hands over your body, admiring how good you feel above him.

He's hard, you can feel it, snug between your thighs and you don't hesitate to roll your hips against him.

He stiffens, gripping your hips to stop you. He laughs in the breath between kisses.

“Stop. Or I'll strip you bare and fuck you right here.”

Your fingers wrap around the knot of his tie, pulling him closer.

“Maybe your office wouldn't be so bad.”

“For what I have planned for you, I'll need more than an office.” He counters.

You sigh, releasing his tie and sliding off his lap. He lets you go easily, though his fingers still reach for you, twitching to hold himself back.

“Your loss.” You tease.

“Not at all, I'll make up for it later.” He responds, voice calm and casual.

You raise your eyebrows curiously.

“What exactly are you planning?”

He smirks in amusement.

“Just a little payback, Mrs. Russo, don't worry your pretty head.”

You’re holding his hand when you leave the building, but you draw up short when instead of one car waiting for you, there are two.

There’s a woman standing beside one car, a clipboard, or maybe a binder in hand. She stands straight, her bright red hair catching on the wind.

Billy says your name, and you turn to him curiously.

His eyes are on you, and he tilts his head, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

“You’re going to have to trust me now.” He says, his voice a little loud to compete with the din of New York.

You nod, trying to tell him that you understand without having to say it.

“Will I see you soon?” You ask, catching on to the idea that you'd be going to a different place than he was.

He smiles, nodding his head and leaning in to kiss the top of your head. As he lets you go, you reach for him, gripping his arm, a little afraid to be without him.

“Tell me something.” You plead, looking up at him.

He smiles in understanding, leaning down to press his lips to your ear.

“Sometimes, when you thought you were talking to Dominic, you were actually talking to me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your body going warm in the cold, New York air.

You let out a soft sigh, squinting down at the open binder in your hands.

The redhead from earlier, had introduced herself as Sam, eager to get you into the car so that you could begin your journey to wherever you were going. She wouldn’t tell you, only giving you a soft smile before informing you that it was kind of a surprise.

She’d opened the binder, explaining that she planned special events and that Billy had contacted her for something very special. You assumed, with the way she was speaking, that she thought this was something of a date, and not what you guessed it really was- Billy’s attempt at taking six weeks’ worth of sexual frustration out on you.

The binder itself had contained pictures of a variety of different things. From dresses to food to flowers, she wanted an idea of the things you really liked.

You were stuck on dresses currently, flipping through, searching for something that really stood out. Sam had explained that these were already narrowed down by Billy, and whichever you chose would come along with you.

You were still curious about where you could possibly be going.

There was an obvious theme to the dresses, ball gown-esque in their design, not over the top because he knew you didn’t like that, but nothing overly simple as well. Some were covered in rhinestones, some were layered with delicate tulle fabrics, one had a keyhole neckline that could be seen as very inappropriate in a formal setting.

You scanned the pages, knowing that whatever dress you picked would most likely be torn from you before the night was over, and if you picked the right one- for example one with a high slit- you may have the opportunity to wear it just a little longer than the others.

When your eyes settle on one of the more shimmery materials, you blink, tilting your head. It wasn’t too extravagant, and yet something about the way the fabric looked kept drawing your eyes. The best part was the high slit, that you could assume would come up to the middle of your thigh, which would make it easier for you to run if necessary.

“This one.” You angle the book so that Sam can see. She nods eagerly, reassuring you of your selection.

“That one can be off shoulder, or with straps. What are you feeling?”

You hum, deep in thought for a moment.

“Off shoulder.” You decide, smiling at the thought of it.

“And, I also want something else, but you can’t ask any follow up questions.”

She tilts her head, and you explain it to her.

Your mouth drops open when the car comes to a stop, and there’s a jet waiting for you.

“Where on earth am I going?” You ask in disbelief, tuning to Sam in shock.

She smiles apologetically, shakes her head.

“You’re supposed to trust him, he said.”

Billy could be really outrageous at times.

The pilot introduces himself, and when you ask him about the plane’s destination, he angles his body to Sam, who simply shrugs.

By now, it’s well into the night, and as the plane takes off, the stewardess provides options for your dinner.

Billy’s methodology was madness, and you, equally mad for going along with it. Here you were, on a plane with people you didn’t know, going to an unknown place and all you had to go on was your trust in him, the man who’d trapped you in a marriage.

You didn’t even know where your passport was- how did you even get this far in the first place? You had no clothes, nothing to change into, not even a toothbrush-

Your thinking halts when Sam presents a small leather bag to you. You look up at her, taking it into your hands, the hum of the engine loud in your ears.

You look down, unzipping the top and peering inside.

Billy Russo, your magnificent husband, had packed you a bag of essentials.

You knew it was him, who else would know all your product preferences, you even find a pair of silk pyjamas, with your initials embroidered onto the breast pocket.

There was no one like him, and you knew, deep down, there’d never be another.

You smile to yourself, wanting to spill over with words of adoration, aching to grab the next person you could find and tell them how much you loved your husband.

“There's a bedroom in the back,” Sam says, “You can sleep there, we should arrive in the morning.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise that the flight would be that long.

You study Sam for a moment, she gives you a shy smile, and you roll your eyes, already knowing that she wasn't going to tell you where you were going.

Dinner is delicious, beans, potatoes, chicken, and you really enjoy it, though you find yourself missing the warmth of your husband at your side. You realise that you've been around him constantly for a long time, and although you're still on his plane with his staff, you've never been physically farther since you woke up married to him.

Halfway through dinner, you get a text from him. You smile as you open the message, seeing that it's just a single photo of a document clearing him for work and physical activity as well.

Your mind goes wild with your imagination of what you're going to get up to, so of course, after you've settled into bed later, you unbutton the shirt of your pyjama top a little to send him a tasteful photo of your chest, your embroidered initials just barely covering your nipple.

You see the read receipt activate and you grin, watching him begin typing and stop repeatedly for five minutes before a message actually comes though.

I was in a handover meeting with Frank when I opened that. I groaned out loud and he kicked me out of his office.

You giggle.

I hope you're happy, he adds.

Your only response is to send him another picture, this time, you have your breasts on full display for him.

You're in so much trouble, is his only reply.

You wake when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you,” She says through the door, “But you should get dressed, we’re landing soon.”

You glance at your phone to check the time, 10 am. You squint in confusion, knowing that you hadn’t been flying for that long.

You manage to pull yourself up, with a little grumble and get showered and dressed, Billy having supplied another item of clothing- a sundress- at the bottom of the bag.

You're seated and buckled in when the plane lands, and on the way out, the stewardess presents you with a cup of coffee and a breakfast bagel.

You take a look at your surroundings, studying the airplane hangar that you'd docked into, looking for any flags or language differences.

All the signs are in English, but you don't see any flags. You don't have a chance to look outside, being guided into an awaiting limo.

When you get settled, another text comes in.

Stop trying to figure out where you are, just go with it.

You roll your eyes in mild annoyance.

Did you just roll your eyes at me?

You blink in shock, raising your head and looking around. Sam pays you no mind as she studies the area outside while the limo drives. You figure there must be a concealed camera somewhere, allowing him to look at you.

Creep, you think affectionately.

Another message comes in, with an attached picture that makes your eyes widen and your core heat up.

It's a photo of his lap, fully clothed, Except he's gripping his cock through the fabric tight enough that you can see how hard he is.

You grit your teeth. Billy was such a fucking tease.

I'm going to have to apologize to that poor pussy for how hard she's about to be punished.

You clench, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to bite down, feeling the pain center you.

You take a moment, turning your phone down to let the emotions run through you. Your heart was pounding in your chest you could feel the buzz of anticipation in your veins. Soon he'd have you, manipulate you into submission, make you his very own plaything.

You could barely contain yourself, desperate for it, the thoughts of riding his cock till you couldn't breathe, the feeling of his hands on your skin, the way his tongue knew exactly how to glide across your clit.

You smile, turning your phone over, sending a message to him, a challenge.

You'll have to catch me first.

The shift in timezones makes you a little groggy, and you’re almost half asleep when you see it.

You blink, trying to wrap your head around what you're seeing through the window of the limousine.

With tall, pointed spires, soft beige brick, the castle stands at the centre of a large piece of land, extending out as far as you can see.

It's not obscenely large, a flair of something ancient and baroque in its style, spanning the size of maybe a football field, or perhaps, a little smaller.

However dark the castle seems, is offset by the brilliance of the surrounding gardens.

And it takes you, it spins your mind, weaves intricate webs of fantasy and lust, makes you consider, just for a moment, the things Billy would do with you here, the ways it could make you feel.

“Gorgeous.” You hum, deep in your own wonder.

“It is.” Sam agrees, “When Mister Russo told me he'd gotten it all to himself for a week- well it blew my mind. This castle is super exclusive, they only rent a few rooms, to get the entire place, I can't even imagine.”

You want to stop her so many times. He'd rented the entire place? For a whole week?

Your cunt was definitely in trouble.

“Hmmm.” Is the only thing you can say, heart tugging in your chest at the implications, stomach fluttering in excitement.

There's a small welcoming party at the entrance door where the car comes to a stop on a circular driveway. You step out first, smiling politely and shaking hands with the people that introduce themselves. There's a house manager and groundskeeper and so many titles get tossed your way that you almost forget them all.

The tour of the castle is thankfully brief, because despite your night of sleep, the travel has made you exhausted. You smile politely, amazed at the beautiful interior, eager to explore it more on your own time later. You do take note of the dining room, with its large windows and the throne room that holds an impressive chandelier. You try to remember one important detail about each room as they begin to blur together.

Your room is on the second floor, a magnificently large space with an obscenely decorated four poster bed. It's gorgeous with intricate wooden carvings on the walls and on the columns of the bed.

You feel like royalty when you flop onto the bed, simmering with excitement as you let the effect of your surroundings sink in.

Your stomach flutters, you gaze up at the soft pink canopy, studying the intricate designs on the ceiling, letting the looping patterns calm you.

As you relax, sleep takes over, the fatigues of travel finally taking its toll.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #my writings #accidentally on purpose #accidentally on purpose married billy #To love and to cherish

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