twi-liight

[hauntedhokage]

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑛'𝑠 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐵𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢

Sea God!Rafayel x Reader

summary: ever since you were a child, you’d always believed in the elder’s tales of a god who resided in the sea. when you finally meet him, this supposed tale you were now too old to believe in, you weren’t expecting to build a relationship with him. 

word count: 7.9k

warnings: a lot of god talk but ancient fake gods and not real world religion gods, death (technically) 

note: Reader is in her late twenties

ao3

A small fishing village rests on the coastline of a large island. Despite its size, the village itself was described as a wealthy trade hub; with its residents being the happiest on the island, welcoming of tourists and traders alike while gradually expanding into the forests to accommodate those who were relocating to share in the wealth of the village. The village was prosperous, thankful for their standing but unaware of the reason behind their good fortune - chalking it up to their location beside the sea and excellent weather. 

This village was all you’d known, and you remember when it hadn’t been so successful. You’d been a child then, helping your parents keep their failing inn clean for potential visitors. You were eight when you’d started visiting the ocean, finally old enough to be trusted to not be swept away with the tides but still young enough to believe in the stories of the Old Gods who once looked over the people of your island. You’d heard the elders talk of a time when the village had prospered, making offerings to the Gods daily to help maintain that prosperity until a storm had come through - nearly decimating the village and sweeping the faith in the Gods away with the debris of buildings destroyed and hope lost. 

You’d wanted to see if the village could prosper again if the Gods returned, not convinced that they’d left entirely. So you’d made a trip to the beach on a particularly gloomy morning, a seashell in hand with a wish carved into it as an offering to the God of the Sea. The elder had said his name was Rafayel, so that was the name you’d carved as you wished for a way to make your parents happy again. While young, you understood the struggles they were facing with the struggles of the village as a whole and wanted to ease that pain if you could. Anything would help - even just a new trader to purchase the fish that had been caught. Every day for a week, you’d take a shell with the same wish carved into it and say a prayer that you’d be heard by Rafayel. 

On the eighth day, a new ship arrived. The crew needed a place to dock after the storm, staying at your family's inn and spending plenty of their coin while offering other trade for their ship to be repaired by the village’s craftsmen. 

On the ninth day you’d sprinted to the beach to thank Rafayel, adding a small carving of a fish with a heart to really push the message across that you were grateful for his hearing you and blessing your family. 

After your one prayer had been heard, your wish clearly granted by the Gods, you continue to go to the beach with the small offerings you could muster as just a child. Shells you’d found, flowers picked from your mother’s garden, even letters you’d written while apologizing for potentially polluting the waters but you’d had nothing else to provide at that time. As you’d aged, the village continued to prosper but didn’t believe that this could be the work of a God. “Simply the change of time” is what your mother had said while cleaning the bar one morning, then requesting that you finish mopping the floors before heading off to do whatever it was you did during the daytime before the bar opened and people arrived for dinner. 

You’d spent your teen years searching the nearby forests for the temples dedicated to the Old Gods that had been lost to time. The elders had vague recollections from the stories that they’d been told while also greatly amused that you continued to believe in such tales despite your age. It wasn’t until well into your twenties that you’d found what you’re sure was a temple dedicated to one of them. A dream had led you there, but you’d never tell anybody that - or about the temple at all. 

The ivy and trees had overtaken the building, what you’re sure was once pristine and well maintained stonework now crumbling into ruin, the building left forgotten as the Old Gods had been. Perhaps that was why the village had fallen into its own ruin, the villagers inability to maintain their faith and the temple that had been a symbol of that faith convincing the God to leave them behind. You wouldn’t be able to restore a temple just on your own, and you doubted that anyone in the village would help what had become just a dream believed by a silly girl who never grew out of old tales, but maybe there could be someone who’d be willing to help just as a project. The potential for another tourist destination? 

The suggestion left your mind soon after you’d had it, knowing that the offerings left at the temple would simply be taken as profit since nobody believed in the Gods but you. Angering them was not something you would allow them to do, not after everything you’d done to appease them after all those years. So the temple was left to you and you alone, and it had taken you months just to clear away enough of the ivy to find a hole in the wall just large enough for you to slip through and finally gain entrance into the temple. Despite its age and state of ruin, there was still an energy resonating within the walls that made you feel warm inside - almost as if a light had enveloped your being just by entering. 

Upon approaching the altar you see paintings that depict the ocean; fish and whales, even depictions of fishermen and what you believed to be what the elders had called mermaids - creatures with the torsos of humans but tails of fish in place of legs. Among them all was a man, the center focal point floating above the water with a scepter in hand and the sun at his back - this man you assumed could only be the God of the Sea.

That evening you’d spent the sunset sitting on the beach, waiting until the moon rose to walk out into the water as the tide splashed around your ankles. The water ripples as you walk further, stopping when the water is at your waist. You’re old enough to understand the strength of the tides, strong enough to hold your ground as the water pushes and pulls around you. You don’t even know what you’re looking for, why you’re in the midnight ocean looking at the reflection of the moon on its surface, but you knew you were called there by something. You hadn’t felt anything like this before entering the temple; having always been called to admire the sea but never like this. Never walking out into the water, tempted to go further but knowing better than to do that or risk losing your life to the depths of the deep seas. 

“Rafayel,” you whisper, resting your hand on the surface of the water as you close your eyes. “The villagers may not believe, but I do. I believe in you, and thank you for the blessings you’ve brought to us and hope you continue to bless my people with your bounty.” 

That warmth pushes through you once more, and you swear you feel a presence at your back and hands on your shoulder as the wind caresses your ears - but you know you’re the only physical presence on this beach. Your eyes remain closed as you try to remember this feeling, even as the wind carries a message through to you. 

Your continued faith will be rewarded, little fish. Return to the temple in three days.

It’s then that you turn around, expecting someone to be behind you only to be disappointed when there wasn’t anyone in the water but you. But you know in your heart that you had been chosen by Rafayel, that it was his voice reaching you from the depths of the ocean. He was rewarding you with his presence, his warmth encasing your spirit being what kept you warm as you walk through the village to your home.

Three days was a very specific timeframe, but you still made your offerings to the ocean despite the instruction given. If you felt that warmth just one more time you were sure you’d be on cloud nine for the rest of the year.

On the third day you kneel before the altar, setting down the offerings you’d accumulated over the day since you weren’t sure which would be appropriate for the Gods. Your parents were worried about you, watching as you shuffled about the house looking for things and etching into seashells you’d brought back from the beach. 

“She’s losing her mind,” your mother had said to your father in hushed whispers in the kitchen, before asking that he sit you down and talk you out of these childish beliefs you had. 

“It keeps her busy and makes her happy,” he’d argued back, which was the last you’d heard before telling them you would be leaving for the day and heading out into the forest to get to the temple. 

You aren’t sure what to do before the altar, so you clasp your hands and close your eyes tight while trying to summon this warmth. 

“O, God of the Sea, please hear me and accept the offerings I’ve placed before you. I, uh, I didn’t know what to bring so I brought a few different things and I hope they’re okay. If they’re bad please accept that I mean no disrespect.” 

The warmth encases your body once more, a light flooding the main room of the temple so bright you could see it behind your eyelids. When they open you see a necklace resting on the altar in place of your offerings, beads and jewels strung together in a way that was reminiscent of the ocean. One sits out of place, a bright crystalline jewel sitting in the center, clearly the centerpiece and focal point of the piece and meant to be admired.

“Where…?”

You hesitate to grab it at first, unsure if your hands were worthy of taking something like that into your hands. Was this the reward of your faith that had been mentioned? But this seemed like it wasn’t something that you were meant to keep. Not a test, but something more than that - an invitation. You assume it had probably belonged to a priest or priestess last responsible for leading worship to the God of the Sea, a belonging of that God, and you’d need to return it to him.

The temple is where you take refuge until after sundown, waiting until the moon has risen well into the sky until you make your way across the village again to head to the beach. You didn’t want to field any questions about your whereabouts or the necklace in your hand, needing to keep this secret to yourself. This necklace wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for the sea and you were going to return it to his home before someone suggested or demanded otherwise.

The beach is always quiet at this time, nobody dared go to the water when the moon was high due to a fear of the tides sweeping them away. Not you, though, you almost welcomed the tides sweeping you away from this village and the feeling that you weren't doing something right in the eyes of the people around you. So you walk into the water, watching as the surface ripples around your intruding presence until you're waist deep, hands skimming the surface until you find the spot that felt right to set the necklace down. The weight of the jewel pulls the necklace into the water, and the logical part of you knows that this jewel could provide great wealth to your family, but your spirit is calm in the fact that you knew this jewel was going back to its home. To be sold over and over again was not meant to be the fate of this jewel, and the light that emanates from below the surface tells you that you were right. Trusting in your faith had yet to lead you astray, and you’re grateful for this day you’d had as a true reward of that faith. 

The wind picks up around you, stronger gusts sending your hair flying around you and forcing you to close your eyes in the face of the gusts. Part of you, that logical part you never listen to, tells you to retreat to the shore lest you be swept out to sea. Your spirit, however, tells you to stand your ground and continue your trust in this God to keep you standing upright within his domain, even as the waves rise around you and your uncertainty rises. 

That familiar warmth rises within your body, comfort and safety washing over any negative feelings you might’ve had about standing waist-deep in the ocean. The Gods would protect you tonight, you trusted that. 

“Aren’t you precious?” That wasn’t at all a scary voice, the gentle poke to your nose wasn’t scary or painful either. “Open your eyes, little fish.”

Should you? Probably not, but you do anyway only to want to close them again because you’re not sure you should be seeing this. A man - no, a God - stands before you in the water, holding the necklace you’d just dropped and turns it over in his fingers as he says, “Somehow, I knew that you’d know exactly what to do with this.” 

Maybe you were crazy, but crazy felt better than anything else right now so you feel calm when you tell him, “It belongs to the sea.” 

“You’re right.” A squeeze of his hand breaks the jewel from the rest of the silver and beads connected to it, dust falling from it before he opens it again to reveal its new shape. “And I’m sure you’ll be right about who I am, too. Please keep this safe.”

The jewel glows bright as it’s transferred from his hand to yours, now shaped like the water lilies that resided in the small lake beside the temple. His larger hands close yours around it, holding them there as he leans in to kiss them before he mumbles what sounds like a blessing into your skin. 

“I am not the sea.”

He looks up at you with a pout, clearly confused at your apparent denial of his gift. “You are one with it, little fish.”

“But I’m not-“

“You have come to this shore every day since you were a child. Regardless of the weather or your own health; you presented offerings, confided your feelings, and always displayed your gratitude. To the ocean for providing its bounties and to me for watching over your village.”

One last press of your fingers to close around the jewel, then his hands are leaving yours and he steps away. Your can only look up at him, bringing your hands to your chest as you feel it’s humming against your skin. It did not have this feeling before, the jewel you’d dropped into the ocean was cold and unfeeling while the one he’d handed back to you had a warmth that resonated within you. As if it’s return and Rafayel’s touch awakened something within it. 

“So you feel it?”

“What is it?”

“Think about it, then give me your thoughts next time we meet.”

“When will that be?”

“Hm, not sure. There will be a pretty bad storm over the next couple of days, so I’m going to request you not come to the beach. I’ll continue to watch over you while you’re safe at home.”

You nod your understanding, beginning to walk back to the shore while keeping your eyes on the God standing before you. He’s making his own way back into deeper waters, until finally he turns to dive into the waters below which was your own signal to turn your back to the sea to begin your walk home. You’re holding the jewel to your chest the entire walk home, then tuck it away beneath your pillow when you’re back in your bedroom. A gift from the God of the Sea, you couldn’t let anything happen to it. 

The answer to what made the jewel important had been answered during the storm. The humming that was once steady and warm had grown colder, the humming more erratic and leading you to believe that this was much more than just a jewel that was important to him. This was the Heart of the Sea, yet another fable turned to fact, but you were still curious as to why you were being trusted with it. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but stop making me run halfway across the island,” you whisper into the gem, eyes widening when it glows a little bit. 

Noted, little fish.

“Stop doing that.”

I don’t think I will. 

Should you be talking back to a God? Probably not, but he didn’t seem that serious of a God. But maybe that was being a God, you didn’t need to be serious when you were immortal. 

“So I can use this to talk to you?”

Not a lot, but yeah it’s an option. You don’t like me being in your head, remember?

You think you might hate him. Gods were apparently annoying, but you know you’re extremely lucky to be in contact with one. You’d seen one, held hands with one, a literal God. And everyone thought you were crazy, they still would without clear proof - meaning the man himself - so you’re keeping this one to yourself. Protecting him and yourself felt like the best option for you. 

But you now had to wait “a couple days” to see him again, to confirm your suspicions about the Heart and confirm that his name was actually Rafayel before you say it aloud and make a fool of yourself. How were you even supposed to talk to a God? Clearly this one wasn’t as pompous as the Old Gods had been made to seem in the tales, but treading lightly to ensure your village didn’t become part of the ocean was also pretty important. Doing what you’re told is difficult when it goes against a routine that you’d held for decades. But he’d been right about the storm, so you spent the day helping your parents board up the windows to protect the glass, then ensure the elders' homes are taken care of with your father before returning to the inn to help your mother with her cooking. 

The storm rages for four long days. As instructed, you stay away from the beach and busy yourself around the inn. Some travelers stuck in the storm had managed to dock safely, so you had some work to keep you busy as you helped your parents keep a tidy and efficient inn. You can only think about Rafayel during those four days, wondering why he’d bring such a horrid storm this way.

Was he trying to prove a point to your village? Show them that as easily as he’d granted them their bounty that he could disrupt their very way of life? That seemed awfully…low, for a God to stoop to such behavior, but you’d be sure to ask him when you next saw him. 

Five days after you’d first met the God, you finally got to go to the beach to try and meet with him again. The state of the shore is more pressing when you see it, debris and other scattered along the sand that needed to be cleaned up - so you set to it. You didn’t have any trash bags, but you’re able to create piles for wood, trash, and a third for other things that you weren’t sure what they were but were certain that they didn’t belong in the ocean. You'd get those items to their proper locations in the morning after handling your business with the God of the Sea.

“What’s this fourth pile, little fish?” The new voice on the once silent beach has you dropping the wood plank in your hand directly onto your foot, the cry of pain you let out stifled into a hiss pushed through grit teeth. “Did I scare you?”

You might’ve thrown the Heart at him if it wasn’t securely tucked into your pocket. Warm hands on your upper arms pull you closer to him until you’re eased into sitting on the sand so he can look at your foot. There’s some gentle scolding about how you should’ve been wearing shoes considering you didn’t know what was hiding in the sand after a storm like that, and you know he’s right but appreciate that he lets it slide when you tell him you don’t like taking an hour to wash the sand out of your shoes and then off your feet when you could just have to worry about one of those things. 

“Your name is Rafayel, right?” 

“It is, little fish.”

“I also have a name.”

He hums as his hand envelops your injured foot, sending a new warmth through it that immediately alleviates the pain you’d been feeling. “I’m well aware of what your name is, but I like little fish, my little fish.”

Hitting Gods wasn’t allowed, at least you didn’t think it was, but it should’ve been. The elders didn’t mention that they could be this annoying. 

“Why’d you hit us with that storm?”

“Oh that? Yeah that wasn’t me.” When you only blink and tilt your head he can only sigh, leaning back on his elbow in the sand as he tilts his own head. “Geez, your people really did lose all of the old teachings. I’m the God of the Sea, but there’s a God of Storms and he’s a little upset right now so everyone’s paying the price.”

You don’t know why that information surprises you, but all you’ve got in response to that is, “Oh.”

“Now, none of us know why he’s mad. Just that he’s mad. And I haven’t been getting good sleep because of it.”

Were you supposed to feel bad about that when people you knew had seen damage to their homes that landed them sleeping at your parents’ inn while they’re being reconstructed? Even if you were, you couldn’t feel bad for him - he was also a God, so matters of lost sleep didn’t feel so big compared to the problems of the people in your village. Yeah, they thought you were a silly girl - nuts, even - but you still cared for them and their health deeply as they also were concerned about yours. 

“Wait, a four day storm is just a little upset?”

“Could’ve sent a hurricane. Besides, I put in overtime trying to reduce the damage to your side of the island as a favor to my favorite worshiper.”

You were pretty confident that you were his only worshiper (if you even really did that), but you don’t want to burst his bubble verbally so you just let him have that one. In return he sits with you for a few hours, telling you more about the various Gods who were still in practice and how they all operated and took turns blessing or ruining peoples lives depending on how the people were behaving. But not your people, they didn’t even remember that there were Gods to upset, and were often left alone because the Gods thought it was cute that you believed so strongly in Rafayel. 

The faith of one person protecting an entire village - the thought didn't seem real despite the evidence sitting directly in front of you.

After a month you’re quite comfortable with being in constant contact with a literal God. Rafayel would visit you at the beach or the temple - wherever you felt like calling him to by using the Heart of the Sea that you’d been entrusted with. You had also been right about the necklace it had once been strung to being the possession of the priestess that managed the temple and led the daily worship to Rafayel. You were now the equivalent of a priestess, despite not having a flock following you in that worship - and that made you feel a sense of importance you’d never felt before in your life. 

Much more important than waiting tables at the inn and being placed in front of potential marriage candidates by your parents. 

Of course the obvious question of why remained. Heavy like the stones resting at the bottom of the sea, weighing down your heart as the question lingers in the back of your mind. A constant itch that you feared scratching because it could possibly leave a wound in its wake - a wound you weren’t sure would heal if the answer wasn’t what you hoped it would be. 

You don't even have to look at him to know what he's doing, the little amused hum was enough for you to know that he needed yet another reminder to respect your mental boundary. “Get out of my head!”

“You’re no fun!”

“You promised!”

“I agreed, an agreement isn’t a promise.” He pauses a moment after he says that, watching as you place your hands on your hips. “Wait, I said that wrong. My word is my bond, what I meant was that I said I’d try.”

You only huff, rolling your eyes as you look away from his own searching gaze. You knew that eye contact wasn’t how he managed to invade your mental privacy, but it made you feel better thinking that he couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in your head without the eye contact. What were words without true emotion to provide context - were eyes not the windows to the soul?

“The answer to your question isn’t as heartbreaking as you might think it would be.” Rafayel comments, coming to stand beside you and looking at the mural your eyes had been scanning for the last minute. “If you want to hear it. I’m not sure since you don’t want me listening to your thoughts.”

You only scoff then, leaning back against the altar and keeping your eyes fixed on the mural. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction of your attention, even if he was a God. If you were trusted with the Heart of the Sea, then you should be trusted to try to humble him every now and then. And he should stop reading your mind. 

“You know, for someone who sits in the presence of a God you sure are demanding.” Despite his pout, you know that he’s content to continue to be in your presence even if you were “demanding”. That’s why you’re comfortable with simply rolling your eyes as you lean back against the altar. “I’m serious, back in the day you people were much more grateful to me.”

“I’m the only person here who still believes you exist, be grateful to me.”

“One is all I need, and I am. You’re harboring the Heart of the Sea, like the priestesses of old. I’m very grateful for someone deserving of that honor.”

Being a priestess didn’t sound so bad, even if the only two people who acknowledged that responsibility were you and the God you attended to. But what happened when your time to pass on eventually came, who inherited the Heart of the Sea from you? How do you encourage others to reawaken their faith in Rafayel so you could have a successor? You’d been branded a silly girl and that had carried on into your adulthood - you’re sure not even the children of the village would listen to anything you had to say.

“You’re worrying about something very distant, little fish.”

“You have to stop reading my mind.”

He laughs as his arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you into his side and kissing your head. “I wouldn’t need that ability with you most of the time. You are always worrying about the distant future, it’s clear in your offerings and prayers.”

You can’t even be annoyed, he was too cute to be annoyed at. With his long lashes and expressive eyes that bore two colors, symbolic tattoos decorating his body and those pouty lips. If he wasn’t the God of the Sea, all of the girls in the village would be seeking him out as a suitor. Being mad at a face that pretty for knowing who you were felt silly. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Stay out of my head! I don’t care that you’re a God, reading my mind is rude!”

“But you didn’t say no…” He trails off, and you watch as his eyes search your face before they trail downwards a bit. “I also think you’re very pretty.”

He licks his lips before you question him, silencing your question as you can only sit still while he leans into you. Were you about to kiss a God? Were you pure enough for-

“Please stop thinking unless you’re asking me to stop.”

“Stop reading my-“

His kiss silences you, his much more experienced lips moving against your own in a way that you’d never experienced before. There were boys in the village you’d exchanged kisses with, a short affair with a guy who had been docked for repairs, but their kisses were nothing like this. Rafayel was warmth personified; his lips, his hands, his tongue, and you learned that his tattoos carried the same feeling that the Heart did when you held it. A strong hum against your fingers, projecting a warmth through your fingers that made your hands tingle as they explored the colorful markings that decorated his torso. His fingertips take advantage of the hot summer weather and your shorter attire to dance along your bare midriff, the gentle pitter patter causing tingles that ripple under your skin only to be smoothed down by firm palms that caressed you so tenderly. 

“What’s the answer to my question?” 

“Your timing is really something, little fish.” He chides, but he grins as he does before kissing you again. This one much more chaste, a feather light brush of his lips against yours as he speaks. “The answer to your question of ‘why you’ is that you’ve been chosen since your first offering. A true believer of the old faith, the Gods in general but me specifically after nearly a century of lost faith? But there’s also something extremely pure about your heart and your connection to the Sea - you were chosen by her just as much as you were by me.”

You don’t have words to match that, and he takes advantage of your silence to kiss you again - this time urging you to sit in his lap to save both of your necks some strain. His kiss was as strong as the waves at high tide, pulling you deeper into his arms but refusing to push you back. With every breath he stole you sunk deeper, thumbs tracing the tattoos under his eyes while keeping him as the anchor you chose to tie yourself to. At this stage you don’t know that you have the words to describe just what this was currently or had the potential to shape into. This certainly was much more than just two people simply passing the time, but he was still a God, after all. And you were just... you. Would a God take a human lover, or other romantic bond in a human?

“You really like me, huh?”

“You really want to tease a God?”

“Only you,” you murmur, pushing the purple hair back and away from his forehead so you could clearly see the dual toned eyes that always gazed upon you with equal parts adoration and amusement. “Only person I like this much. Only person I trust.”

You continue to meet with Rafayel for another six months. The first time you ever had sex was with the God of the Sea, seated upon the altar that was once used to pray and make offerings - he’d said that he prayed to you that afternoon as you offered yourself to him. Whether it was the temple during the day or the ocean when the moon was at its peak in the sky, you saw Rafayel at least four days out of the week unless the weather was poor. Taking risks with your health was not of interest to him - your faith was obvious enough, you didn’t need to take additional risks for him. 

Over those six months your parents had grown more concerned over your unwed status. Your mother in particular hated how much time you spent “playing around” in the forest or ocean, as your most fertile years would be over soon, paying no attention to the fact that you didn’t desire marriage or children at this time. This wasn’t a battle your father could win, so he only looked at you apologetically whenever you had to sit for a lecture about your wasted youth. Rafayel couldn’t fix that, he couldn’t make people change their minds or influence their actions, so you only sit through it while planning your eventual departure on a ship - or into the Sea as Rafayel had suggested that one morning all those months ago. 

“I hate it when you pout like that,” he comments one night, adjusting your legs around his waist as you bury your face into his neck. “You shouldn’t pout in my waters, little fish.”

“Just tired. Both physically and of my mom trying to marry me off.”

All you get from him is a concerned hum, his head resting against yours as the waves continue to roll sound your bodies. You don’t register that he’s sinking into the water until you’re neck deep, and you pull back to look at him just to see a smile on his face despite your concern. 

“Trust me.”

You trust him explicitly, which might be the problem, so you let him pull you under the surface completely. On reflex your eyes shut tight and you hold your breath until there’s a tickle to your side that has you releasing it and your eyes opening wide at the panic of losing your oxygen. 

“You can breathe, little fish. You’re with the God of the Sea.”

You’re not prepared for him to untangle your limbs from his body and let you go, but you relax at his urging and allow yourself to ride the current for a moment. You couldn’t go far, not in his ocean, so you close your eyes again as you appreciate this feeling. The ebb and flow of the water around you, the true weightlessness in this moment washing away the weight of your mother’s expectations that had been dragging you down. Maybe you could just stay here forever? You're sure this beat sailing away on some ship to an unknown land - here you had him. 

Your eyes open once more to see Rafayel watching you with a soft smile, and when you reach out he pulls you back into his body while pulling you deeper into the water. The fish aren’t bothered by your intrusion, nor are the creatures crawling along the sand at the bottom of the Sea when your feet finally touch down. There are creatures you’d never seen before, but Rafayel tells you about each one as if introducing you to his close relatives while leading you to what looked like a cavern. 

“This is where I live, basically. Not much on the outside but the inside is pretty great.”

It’s almost as if there was a wall of water at the entrance, because as soon as you’ve entered the cavern you feel as if you were back on land. Everything does feel drier, and that’s confirmed by Rafayel as he explains the magic of his home and that the God of the Sea didn’t necessarily love sleeping in water all the time so this was a necessary refuge from his Godly duties. It’s beautifully decorated; some things taken from the wreckage of ships who’d met their end at the bottom of the sea, others gifted from other immortals, and some things he’d gotten while posing as a human at various villages. But what surprises you most are the stacks of canvases and the art easel tucked away in the corner of his main room, and you can’t help but pull away from him and his tour to investigate them closer. 

They’re mostly landscapes and scenery: the forests, coastlines, and beach - and it was clear that he’d put a lot of time and effort into each piece. There were a few that were facing the wall rather than the room, clearly meant to be hidden from anyone’s gaze but you turn them around anyway. The first is still of the beach, but there’s a silhouette of what looks like a little girl crouched at the shoreline with her hands in the water with the sun high in the sky behind her. The second is of that same coastline, this time at night, with a silhouette of a woman kneeling at the coastline with her hands held in front of her and head bowed - you’d assume she was praying based on the positions. The third was of what looked like a couple waist deep in the water, the woman held up by the man as they looked at each other. 

“I’m not really good at people, which is why they’re more shadows than anything else. They feel unfinished, which is why I don’t really look at them.”

“These are all beautiful, even those three that you think aren’t finished. Every piece feels like the scenery is moving, it’s mesmerizing. You never told me you painted.”

“It’s a hobby, keeps me busy and gives me a reason to go to the surface more. Art traders love my work.”

“They should! I’m sure it gets you more fancy furniture.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He’s then guiding you towards his bedroom; where you lose track of the hours between your mutually wandering hands, lots of sex, and long conversations about Godhood and Rafayel’s artistic process. You learn upon your return home that you’d been missing for two days, your parents worried that you’d finally been swept away by the seas. Your excuse that you’d been taking time to reflect in the forest is accepted with a warning to leave a note so they don’t worry the village regarding their not-so-missing child. Worrying them had never been your intent, but your return to the surface solidified that you didn’t belong there anymore - you weren’t sure that you ever had. 

It’s two weeks before you see Rafayel again. You assume Titus, the God of Storms, was having another one of his fits due to the massive storm that had raged for four days followed by another ten days of heavy rain that nearly caused the village to flood - but you think you have Rafayel to thank for keeping the waters at bay to avoid that. 

The beach is quiet when you finally step onto the cool sand, the water deathly still and sky dark with the new moon in effect. Rafayel is already there, sitting in the sand with his knees pulled up to his chest and gaze fixed on the quiet waters. He doesn’t look at you as you sit beside him, gently patting your thigh in greeting but saying nothing else. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve just missed you and the crap weather has really messed with my sleep and my inspiration.”

“I missed you, too. I never got to really thank you for sharing your home with me.”

“It helped you relax and forget about those things that were upsetting you, I’m glad I could share that with you and see you so happy.” He doesn’t sound all that glad, which has you frowning as you fear that you’d upset him someone, or that whatever was weighing in his mind was singing related to you

“What’s wrong? Is there something I can do?”

He hesitates, a pout on his face as he ponders his next words. But he finds his resolve after a moment, meeting your concerned gaze before he says, “I’d like for you to come with me.” 

“To where?”

“The Sea. Every God needs a Goddess, at least in my opinion.”

“Goddess of what, though?”

“There’s been an opening since the Goddess of Safe Harbor chose to join the humans a couple centuries ago. Nobody has truly been worthy of replacing her, until you. You’re my pick, and the others agree with me.”

“And my family?”

“Naturally you’d have to leave them behind, but a woman too foolish to stay out of the ocean is bound to be swept away by the tides one day.”

He makes it sound so simple. Leaving your parents, becoming immortal and serving as a Goddess, just being gone - as if it were nothing. Could it truly be that easy?

“Yes, it can be that easy.”

“You promised to stay out of my head!”

“I’m sorry, little fish! It’s hard to resist when you make that cute thinking face, I love knowing what goes on in there.”

Two fingers press to your forehead, and he grins when your hand grasps his wrist and brings those two fingers to rest over your heart. The Heart of the Ocean, he’d told you that he cherished you as if you were his own heart, and you knew that he loved you as you loved him. “I can give you time to consider?”

“No need. Can you conjure up some choppy waters and sweep me away?” 

“Three days, little fish. I’ll need you to do something to prepare, first.”

You nod as he smiles, leaning into him and listening as he explains what your rise to godhood would entail. Death would be terrifying, but he’d explained that he’d be with you the entire time to care for your body as it changed and accepted its new abilities. “The sex is going to be so incredible. It’s wonderful now but when you’ve got that extra stamina I’m sure we could go for days.” That was important information, at least to him, but you grin as you lean into his shoulder. Your fingers trace the tattoos on his forearms before your hand slides into his for him to squeeze gently in an effort to comfort you. 

“Will I keep the Heart?”

“You are The Heart;  my heart, my love, and my Goddess.”

The three days he’d needed were mostly for your own mental preparation. Dying was a terrifying concert to most humans despite it being part of life’s natural cycle - to live is to die, and most tried their best to prolong that life. 

Your own mental preparation is spent praying. Kneeling in Rafayel’s temple before the altar praying for safe passage into the Godhood that Rafayel was blessing you with. Thanking Tilde, the Goddess of Birth, for her blessing of life (and apologizing a little bit for choosing to end yours so early). Praying to anyone that was listening for your parents’ health and safety in your absence, and the continued stability of your village. It’s all you can do for them now.

On the third day you clean. Your bedroom is the cleanest you’ve ever managed and the floors of the inn are sparkling by dinnertime. You know your parents are curious, but grateful that they don’t ask because you can’t answer it truthfully and don’t want one of the last things you say to them to be a lie. Once they go up to bed you sit down and write a note telling them that you’d gone off to sea but loved them dearly - knowing it won't help them feel any better about your disappearance but giving them an explanation was better than disappearing entirely.

Then you go to the beach. 

The sun was finishing its descent into the horizon, the water before you painted in red, orange, and purple hues courtesy of the setting sun. It was reminiscent of the blanket you kept on your bed, woven by one of the elders as she was trying to teach you how to use the large loom - an attempt that was half successful but not enough that you could be considered capable of weaving for anybody. You can only really laugh at the fact that you were never truly interested or talented in the craftsmanship opportunities present in the village. You’d tried them all, spending many hours sitting with the various artisans as they taught you their craft, but you were always thinking heavily about the sea and supposed God of the Sea to truly listen and learn the craft being presented. A silly girl with silly dreams, spacey and living in her own world that she’d created in her head after listening to one too many old tales. 

But here you were; being carefully pulled to your feet by the fabled God of the Sea, greeted with a soft kiss and words of encouragement as he makes sure that you’re ready to do this. You nod, but the question lingers in the back of your mind: was anybody truly ready to ascend to Godhood? 

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he assures; kissing your forehead, then your nose, before finally settling on kissing you properly. “And then I’ll be with you forever.”

Forever sounded nice, with a finality that wasn’t quite final but comforting all the same. You had Rafayel, and would continue to have him until the end of time. Living in his cavern under the sea - you might even try to learn how to paint. 

“Ready?”

You weren’t. But, again, was anybody truly ready to end their life - even if it meant starting a new, greater existence? You were as ready as you could be, which is why you nod before giving him the verbal confirmation you knew he needed. “Let’s do it.”

The blade he manifests from his chest is large, glowing blue like the Heart did before it had been absorbed into your body. You don’t question if it’ll hurt, only hold onto his shoulders as you’d been instructed to. He speaks in a tongue you hadn’t heard before, and yet understand clearly, as the blade is dragged across your collarbone. 

May the light of the sea protect the Goddess, may she guide travelers to safe harbor once more and protect the Heart of the Sea. 

You don’t feel pain, only a unique emptiness you’d never felt before as your body is lifted to lie along the surface. The waves caress your skin as you float, Rafayel’s hands guiding your body until he’s pushing you down for the weight of the water to let you sink further. 

Drifting downwards and away from Rafayel’s warm smile grows blurry in your dimming eyesight. 

Sinking into the sea, the weight of your limbs now too heavy to even try to keep yourself upright. 

Drifting into nothing, your eyes finally falling closed as you let the waves do to you as they saw fit, your body grew numb and cold as you sank further and further into the cold depths of the sea with only the echoes of Rafayel’s warmth following you down until there was nothing. 

No warmth, no feeling, no vision. Just emptiness until finally you hear his voice once more. 

My love, the Sea has accepted you. 

And then you ascend.

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best - Jungkook (part 3)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

After Y/n's words, Jungkook looked deeply in her eyes “why would you say you wish? Y/n you are still young and beatiful. You have a life ahead of you. Did someone hurt you? If the answer is yes then let me tell you he’s a piece of shit and you deserve way better. But... who? I mean you are always so busy with your shifts and manuscript and I never saw you with anyone or talking about someone special, so I never thought... Wait, I'm sorry, that was rude. Of course you have a life above that all. I just hope the guy who made feel like that realizes how dumb he is. Do you wanna talk about it?” he said concerned and curious at the same time 

Y/n looked at him and the only thing she wanted to do was to tell him how she really fel about him, but then she saw him again looking over to where Sewoon was. And with that she said “No Jungkook, it’s nothing. Nothing happened. I guess I've been single for so long I forgot how it feels like to have someone doing things for you, and you only. Why the fuck are we talking about sad stuff anyways?” she laughed but soon realized that he probably didn’t hear since he was looking at Sewoon, again. 

“Go talk to her Jungkook. I’ll be fine. Go” she said with teary eyes. Which Jungkook didn’t notice, not when he didn’t even flinch leaving her there alone grabbing Sewoon gently by the arm and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. And surprise? Sewoon actually kissed him back, opening her eyes and looking at you just to close them once again and surround his shoulders with her arms. 

Y/n was staring all the whole scene and suddenly started to feel her cheeks wet, turning around so no one would notice. But who would ? Everyone was entertained drinking, having fun and making out. She was the stupid one crying for someone who never loved her and had any interest in her. In the end she was responsible for this ache in her heart. Why create ilusions? Why put myself in this position only to be the one broken in pieces with absolutely no repair? She though.

How clould you think you'd be good enough for him

Trying to recompose herself she went to the bathroom, walking in there and cheking herself in the mirror saying “how ridiculous Y/n, congrats."

---------

Being there for a few minutes, when she was about to turn around she goes against someone. In panick, Y/n looks up to apologize but soon reconizes that face. 

“Oh! I’m so sor- Lisa? Oh my- I’m sorry I was so lost in thoughts I didn't hear anyone coming in. Did i hurt you?” 

“Y/N? Such a small world. I'm so happy to see you. No silly, I'm good. Was too distracted with my drink too. That and also trying to hide from this really annoying guy. How have you been? Lisa said, then stopped talking and slowly approached Y/n’s face “Hunny were you crying? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” Y/n looked at her, paused, took a deep breath, hugged her and sobbed so hard she thought she was gonna faint. 

She doesn’t know how much time she spent crying in Lisa’s arms or when she started throwing up and feeling dizzy. All she knew was that she was so tired of pretending and hidding, as if she wasn’t allowed to feel. She thanks God to find Lisa in this party and being her in the bathroom and not Sewoon. And then flashbacks come back and the memory of him grabbing Sewoon and kissing her so hard makes you want to throw up again. And how Sewoon looked her in the eyes before embrassing Jungkook closer to her. Oh how you wish it could be you instead.

“Y/n are you here with someone else? Lets call it a night, I’ll take you home. Or do I need to take you to the hospital? You’ve got me very worried.” At this point Lisa was talking so fast Y/n tried her best to understand what she was saying.  

“i’m good Liz, really. Got to much on my system i guess. And yes, I came with Sewoon but she’s a little busy right now and i don't want to bother her, but being home right now would feel so good”  

“Sewoon? You’re still friends with her?” Lisa’s eyebrows frowned and she made a funny face. “Wanna talk about what really happened here? Because I bet my two dimes it wasn't the drink for shit” 

Y/n looked at her, turned over to face the mirror to get herself together for the second time that night and said “Tell me again why weren’t we close in highschool?” she laughed. “ It’s a pretty long story, are you sure you have time?”  

“Ohh girl please. I’m so tired of this party that I'd use anything as an excuse to leave. Tell your little model friend that you’re going home. You have five minutes, more than that I’ll be the one getting you and it won’t be pretty. Meet me at the exit door. Times ticking” 

As Y/n started leaving the bathroom she deep breathed and tried to see where Sewoon and Jungkook were so she could inform them she was leaving. As she was about to reach the bar someone grabbed her arm a little too rough.

“Hey beautiful. Haven’t seen you around here before. Shall we dance or you’re the type to have a drink first?”  Y/n’s mouth dropped to the floor. She never been through this before. Usually would be Sewoon the target, not her, and for that she was feeling uneasy and the worst part was she didn't have anyone around to give her a hand. Fuck, could this night get any worse?  

“I’m sorry but I'm trying to find my friends. You seem very nice but I really am not in the mood to dance or drink” she tried to remain calm while saying this but became a little nervous when she saw the guys face change after getting rejected. All of the sudden there was someone else grabbing her avaiable arm and getting in the middle of her and the man in front. Took her a while to figure that in front of her was Jungkook, but not the one she was used to, no. This Jungkook seemed pissed, she could notice just by the way he was holding her. 

“Didn’t she tell you no? Are you deaf or the word respect is not in your vocabulary? Leave before things get ugly” Y/n never saw Jungkook like this. Maybe it was the drinks he had. Or did he fight with Sewoon after that kiss? You doubt it since they were so invested in it. The stranger raised both his hands in surrender while looking at them and started retreating. After he was gone Jungkook turned over to Y/n looking mad.

“Are you okay? Where were you? You disappeared and none of us could get a hold of you. And now I see you up close with this guy? The fuck is the matter with you?” You looked at him perplexed. Never in the time you met him he had talked to you like that 

“I went to the bathroom and ended up talking to some girls there. Not that it concerns you since you left me all alone at your first chance so you could swallow Sewoon’s face infront of everyone. Seriously Jungkook, you’re the one who needs to get a grip. You didn’t have to meddle like that. I’m an adult, not a kid who needs to be told where she should be or who to talk to” 

Jungkook definitely wasn’t expecting this outburst of Y/n and let her go but still looking at her. For some reason he got hurt by her words. She never scolded anyone like that, even when he would annoy the shit out of her. While he was thinking about what had just happened, Y/n spoke  

“I’m actually glad to see you. I was looking for Sewoon but since you’re here can you tell her I'm going home? I’m tired and got a ride home. Can you pass her the message?” Jungkook was so surprised that Y/n was giving him an attitude that he was speechless. “Jungkook are you listening? Can you pass the message?”  

“Yes. Yes sorry. I dont know where she is, i mean.. After we kissed I- I kinda needed some air and was going back to the bar but you weren’t there anymore and i went looking for you and lost sight of her. I- “he took a deep breath “did I do something wrong? You're being so harsh with me. Is it -” 

“I’m tired Jungkook and I have someone waiting for me outside. Give her the message for me, don’t forget. Please” she started walking to the exit door but stopped, sighed and completed “Don’t get too drunk tonight and get home safe. Goodnight Kook. Take care.” And like that she was out of his sight, but not out of his mind. What was that? and why does he feel so bad?  

After watching you leave, he went to the bar and asked for the strongest drink. Never did he expect to end the night like this and he needed this night to be gone.

-----------------------

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp

[taissaswifelowkey]

farmhand reader and jackie WHEN???

a/n: farmhand characters will forever be my favourite trope. i think this one’s going to be read as afab, gender neutral reader

warnings: a few implications and suggestive themes. sort of like yearning. lots of yearning. gay jokes and gay.

like imagine she lives in a farmhouse with her parents. alright, cool. and they need help with the cattle and the land.

jackie is so bored out of her life. sure she has perfect parents, lives more than decently and has an amazing boyfriend (we’ll get into this more later once everything is properly organised) but it feels too perfect. all too perfect. like she wants to live for her and not for others

let’s say you’re in need of cash cause you have to repair your pickup truck. also your best friend, van chose to tag along cause she needed to buy a nice gift for taissa! such a gentleman. and it’s a great summer job that pays.

jackie’s parents just give you two the list of things that needs to be done. and when she’s told that ppl are going to help with the farm she wasn’t expecting you two. maybe older people. not someone who can make simple tank tops and flannel shirts look good (WHO SAID THAT?)

jackie watches you work. listens to the way you mutter curses, the sound of your laughter when you joke around with van and watches the way you tilt your head back against the apple tree when you’re on your lunch break.

she thinks she’s being slick watching you from the curtain of her windows but can catches on to her behaviour and nudges you

“dude, the taylors' daughter is staring at you.”

“huh?”

“like she has been ogling you for a good set of five minutes. i counted it, too. it would have been closer to another minute if i didn’t caught her.”

yeah it’s safe to say that after this embarrassing episode jackie stays at home everyday. goes out with friends when she can but ngl she wishes classes would come sooner. she still has the memory of you waving confusedly before she shut the curtains. now you must probably think she’s a creep. great.

but she gets herself together and tries to bake you cookies as an official “greeting” considering she has been ogling silent more than speaking. they’re a bit salty but it’s the thought that counts.

“i’m sorry for being weird. i was just looking at you because i was interested in what it’s like to be a farmer.”

van tries to stifle back a laugh under the disguise of a polite smile, already planning to tell everything to taissa but you understand what’s happening, silencing her with a glance before turning back to the nervous blonde. and instead of stopping to think of a proper sentence and tone structure, you ended up blurting words that will forever be registered in history of failed interactions.

“pretty girls like you want to get dirty?”

the words leave your mouth so quickly and van downright cries from laughter, having to step outside for some fresh air. you two are such awkward messes it’s insane. to be fair, it was the first time you’ve seen her face to face.

from then on you avoid contact for a week. just saying hi and bye when you can. sometimes she’d offer you lemonade and van would say somegthing like “you know what they say about cowgirls right. i think jackie’s got a thing for them.” or “damn i’m pretty sure if it were just me i’d get a glass of water. not that i’m complaining. keep on making more than heart eyes on who knows we might just be invited to dinner.” and you’re just too embarrassed to say anything, too stunned to tell her to shut up. and your reaction time is and bc jackie was not that far from you.

jackie who, eventually gathers her courage to watch you work up close. gets a bit bold though. and you’re too surprised to say anything but it’s pleasant to see her go from shy to confident. can go from brushing against your body when there’s clearly enough space between you to whispering bye as you leave. we love a versatile girlie

also, something about seeing you in a flannel shirt with suspenders when you have rare evening shifts drives her wild. like yeah the wind is chilly but forget about that. flannels and suspenders. you’re wearing a hat? van was probably on to something

and from there it’ll be a build up. trust i have ideas. :( sad ones yes with maybe a hopeful ending 😎‼️‼️

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, and he hurts her a little bit at the end with a pinch

michael kaiser is rough around the edges, rough all over actually. well, not quite. even the most violent of people have their softest most tender spots. he is no exception to the rule. kaiser is so dark, so disturbed, so ruined from everything. he’s really just the product of every bad thing to ever occur in his life. maybe that’s why there’s something so sweet inside of him too, just a fraction of sugar amongst all of the bitter tar. a gram of your sugar. the kindness you gave him. kaiser can be gentle when he wants to be, when you ease it out of him.

that’s why you’re brushing his hair so nicely, you almost look like a normal couple. standing behind your boyfriend, brushing out his golden hair, goldielocks kaiser. you could laugh at that thought. he looks so sweet like this. so sweet when he has his guard all the way down for once. it’s a deity for him to be so relaxed, so you should relish in it the few occasions it happens. the poor man never seems to let his mind rest, never seems to trust anyone totally, never seems to be able to just be human. with you it’s different though, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, the opposite actually. why wouldn’t he trust you? you stay with him through everything he puts you through. he trusts you the most in the world, actually. you could ruin him, ruin his life at any moment. what would the public think of his less than savoury relationship with you? what would everyone say when they found out how he treats you? about you at all, even? he knows you won’t do anything bad to him. that’s how much he trusts you. maybe it’s not even trust. just confidence. just unbridled pure knowing. you could call it love, but with kaiser, it’s hard to be sure.

you’re special, is what he’s trying to say, what he’d be trying to say if any of this was going on out loud. but no. you’re brushing his hair so delicately, like if you’re too rough he’ll disintegrate, and he could almost fall asleep. it’s the opposite though, the most breakable one is you, and in more ways than not you’re already broken beyond repair, thanks to kaiser’s words, kaiser’s fists, kaiser kaiser kaiser. it’s a shame he doesn’t really grant such treatment to you. but he likes broken toys anyway, they feel better, more familiar; like home. but you were broken from the beginning anyway, in ways only he could understand.

he pulls away eventually from your hands. you flinch instinctively as he stands up from the chair in front of his vanity and turns around to face you. it’s scary, naturally, he’s a vigorous man. he’s so merciless to you sometimes that you struggle to even comprehend why he’s with you and why you’re so lucky to have someone like him. you flinched over an impact that was never going to come, no fist to the face, no slap, no shouting, no choking. just a slightly bent over michael kaiser. your 186cm lover face level with you, giving you a genuine smile. none of the cruel smiles he gives to you usually. just a soft smile on his face. he looks so pretty like this. he’s so cute. you really can see the kid in him. he’s so innocent looking when he wants to be. or does he want to be innocent looking? either way, he’s so cute to you.

it’s strange seeing such a thing etched onto his features, his perfect model-like features. fuck, you’re so lucky aren’t you? you’re so fucking lucky to have him, even if he treats you so bad. why the fuck hasn’t he left you yet? he’s so beautiful. seriously, he doesn’t even look human. he’s like a fucking angel. staring into your dull eyes with his deep blue ones. they’re piercing you. even his eyes upstage yours. it’s hard to not be insecure over michael kaiser, because he truly is a spectacle. it’s okay though, he doesn’t think you’re human either. you’re a sweet angel princess. you’re as pure as a little bunny enjoying its first snow. and you’re also as cute as a button. he doesn’t verbalise those things too often though; he has a lot of untended to rage inside.

his tattooed hand is holding your considerably smaller one as he looks into your eyes so deeply, so lovingly. it’s really like something from a movie, a romance novel written by a teenage girl back in the day, a girl who just finished twilight, or the titanic. some cliché love story. so savour the moment while it lasts, because you and him are both not lacking the self awareness it takes to realise it won’t last for long. you smile back ever so sweetly. god you’re sweet. like sugar, or something of that sort. so fucking endearing. too cute, kaiser thinks. “little angel” he praises, and you giggle. your giggle is the most beautiful of melodies to him. it’s also rare, because he sure as hell doesn’t make you giggle often. more like cry. and sob. and everything of that sort, he won’t let his brain dwell on the synonyms for too long, then he might just have to think about the weight of his actions (and nobody wants to do that.) but hey, he’s just as fond of those sounds too, maybe in a different way.

he leans in and kisses your cheek in a way only a prince could kiss the princess he just saved from turmoil. it’s like you’re just kids again, fooling around and seeing what it’s like to have some loving contact from another person. like you’re both still too shy to go that extra mile. it’s so pure. so white. yeah, if you were a colour, you’d be white. milk white. it’s ironic because kaiser actually hates milk, you love it though. there’s something so deeply poetic about that, kaiser thinks. but he chooses, again, to not dwell on it; he hates thinking about these things too much. sometimes he does though, sometimes he’s so angry at himself for treating you the way he does. he fucking hates himself sometimes. he punishes himself as harshly as he does you sometimes. because he doesn’t really want to be this way, but then again, he likes it.

he’s leans in again and pecks your lips, and you giggle again. you’re like a giddy little girl. he picks you up like you weigh nothing, maybe you don’t, maybe you’re light because you’re not even human, just a cute pile of sugary sweetness, or a cupcake. he slams you onto your shared bed, the first rough act of the night. ouch. it kind of hurt, your back definitely felt that impact. usually you would be scared, heck, 5 minutes ago you were scared, flinching at him merely standing up. but right now is different. you don’t care at all. you’re so excited, so drunk on your’s and kaiser’s love. don’t focus on the bad, just focus on the good.

man, it’s so difficult for kaiser to not just ravage you here. you look so fucking cute. so untainted, somehow, even though you very much are. maybe that candy sugaryness of yours is keeping you untainted after everything. you’re so sweet you could seriously turn someone diabetic, he thinks. he almost laughs at that thought. his smile is still genuine as he nips at your neck, the skin marked by his hands last night. he remembers it too well, but shakes off the thought. he’s licking and biting so lightly, gently claiming you as his for the 1000th time. there’s really no need anymore, but you both enjoy it anyway. “so cute” he mumbles into your neck. “wie eine kleine prinzessin” you giggle some more. “really? you mean it?” you wonder. does he? ‘cause sometimes he’s seriously treating you in the complete opposite way. “of course, my princess. my dolly to do what i want to” he smirks back into your neck. that makes sense, of course, you’re his. you’re still his princess, he’s just a little different to those fairytale princes you (secretly and ashamedly) sometimes wish you had instead of him.

kisses in bed with kaiser always escalate into something more, even if he’s in a good mood, you guess. but you want it so bad this time. he’s so gentle right now. lightly fucking you. can you even call it fucking? it’s like, seriously, making love. kissing you, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he thrusts himself inside of you, albeit so slowly. he’s usually rough, extremely rough, the bruises alongside your thighs and hips are proof of it. you’re marked all over by kaiser’s barbarity, but now he’s being so nice. it feels so good too, getting fucked in such a way. it’s like you’re a virgin again, having your very first time. this is how your first with kaiser should have gone. but we all know it didn’t go that way, because why would it? it’s michael fucking kaiser. “l-love you- s’ much- mi-“ he shushes you with a kiss before you can even finish your declaration of love. “sh, don’t say stupid things like that. i love you so fucking much my sweet fucking babygirl” is he insecure? why is your love stupid? he’s still fucking you, it’s difficult to articulate yourself clearly; “b-but- hnghh- i do love yo-u- and it’s- it’s- is not stupid-“ you manage to sputter out between his thrusts. he laughs and kisses you sweetly “you shouldn’t love me, but you do, you’re crazy, schatz” he laughs again and mumbles “so fucking crazy, mine” he thrusts one more time “all for me”

feeling kaiser finish inside of you after he just fucked you like you’re the most special princess in town is liberating, so good. to say the very least. he’s still ontop of you looking at you like you’re the most valuable gem in the museum; he’s smiling too, still with that genuine smile. making love feels so good, it really does. being pampered in such a way is so good. he’s so good at it. it’s a shame he’s so brutal most of the days. he thinks the same. he’s eyeing you up and down, pinned underneath him on his white lacy bedsheets, the ones you picked that day at the store. he feels crazy powerful, examining every mark he gave you that’s still present. he sees a particularly nasty bruise on your stomach, one from a few days ago, and runs his hand over it so gently. he pinches it, squeezes it tightly, and laughs a bit. “fuck, you’re so helpless, aren’t you?” he chastises you as he prods and pinches your injury.

his change in behaviour was sudden, yet not dramatic. he’s still being relatively nice, actually. you bite your lip to keep those pretty diamond tears from spilling over your rosy cheeks and nod obediently. “yes, yes ‘m h-helpless” fuck it hurts. he’s still laughing at you, his blonde locks, the ones you brushed so gently earlier falling on your face, dampened by the tears that you just couldn’t stop from falling. those aren’t just from pain, you’re mourning the sweet kaiser you just lost. it’s almost taunting, his blonde hair somewhat drying your tears. the hair you treat with such care, the man you treat with such care, and still will. he’s still laughing “i like that, and you do too, don’t you little thing?” he’s not expecting an answer, and you’re not going to give one, it’s pointless to; you already know the answer and he does too. you both like it. you both love it, even, because even though he’s more evil than you by a long-shot, you’re still both as sick as each other.

the german said : what a little princess or something like that, idrk how to directly translate it into english but yeah it’s something along those lines, enjoy <3

[insufferablemod]

Hmmm..

[creations-by-chaosfay]

If you're interested in textile art, please understand it will not end at one of the arts. Interested in weaving? There are many different types, so now you're learning about the culture these styles come from, and with that comes learning about their clothing. Now you're interested in learning how to sew clothing, and much of it has some kind of embroidery. So you do research and see how beautiful it is, and different types of embroidery exist. You decide to learn embroidery and get curious about lace because often they're seen together.

Prepare for a journey and get real good at organizing. You'll soon lose space because of supplies and tools.

[stevethehairington]

okay but i need ALL of the fics that take place during crozier getting sober. like i feel like there is SO much potential here bc it is THEE biggest turning point for him! esp with regards to fitzjames and their relationship. like fitzjames seeing crozier's choice to sober up as this huge defining moment, one that ultimately and unequivocally earns his respect (back, really, because he DID have respect for crozier at first, before he met him. and now he sees that that respect wasnt misgiven, not really). and like the way this choice is what causes the first crack in james' mask around crozier! ugh it's just DELICIOUS.

[kenzan-kiwami]

everybody claims to be a kashiwagi enjoyer but the only time anyone ever talks about him is to say he's the hottest piece of meat in the series

[comicaurora]

I've been reading some stuff on punitive justice, and it made something click for me that I've observed a lot online but haven't been able to put into words before.

When someone does something wrong, that's bad, and the damage it does needs to be repaired while the person needs to try to do better in future to minimize repeating harm. We learn it in preschool - say sorry, don't do it again. If they keep at it, remove them from the situation where they can do the harm until they prove they're responsible enough to go back in.

So if it turns out someone DIDN'T do anything wrong, that should be a relief! There's no damage to fix, no internal errors to correct. Less work for everybody, literally no harm done. False alarm, all good.

The thing I've observed is, lots of people want them to have done something wrong. There's almost disappointment when it turns out there's no harm done. And I think that's because of this general undercurrent of punitive justice as morally righteous and desirable: someone does something wrong, you get to punish them. Turns out they're innocent? That's disappointing. Find another reason you get to punish them, or find another bad person you get to punish. But at the core of it is that desire to punish someone. Someone you can hurt in a way that makes you a better person for hurting them.

This particular brand of almost cannibalistic pseudo-justice is super common in tumblr, one of the most ostensibly liberal spaces on the internet; I see more borderline savagery in online discourse here than in the actually toxic parts of the internet that are just openly cruel for cruelty's sake. It's always thrown me for a loop, and has frankly also hurt me, because on the rare occasions I get personally dogpiled, it only actually stings when it makes me worry that I've legitimately hurt someone. If I did something wrong, or more realistically when I inevitably do something wrong, that would make it good and right for people to give me shit about it every day until I'm dead.

The thing that clicked for me most recently was this bit in Ijeoma Oluo's Be A Revolution:

Punitive justice is specifically, uniquely appealing to people who have suffered injustices. Of course it's the Tumblr zeitgeist. Everyone here is a marginalized person failed by at least one system. Punishing someone for perceived injustice is how someone the system has deemed worthless proves their value in blood, even if the person being punished hasn't harmed you directly - even if they haven't harmed anyone. "Righteous" anger isn't about the target in these cases, it's about the inflicter. This is how much my pain is worth.

And that kind of violent validation is so alluring and so very dangerous. It seeks an outlet, wearing the justification of justice. Who's in reach? Who's an acceptable target this week? What's a good reason to use?

Is there anything they could do that would make me stop?

[confused-alpaca]

whose idea was it to make a watercolour sketchbook where none of the pages will lay flat bc. i have some Words for them.

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[maxtermind]

Can I request some more angst 🫠🫠 I’m a sucker for your sad fics

tell me, why'd you have to hit-and-run me?

★ : summary :: finding out your boyfriend was dared to date you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: ANGST; no hea ★ : word count :: 4k+ ★ : a/n :: how are we feeling with the daily posts ending tom and shifting to alternate day posting🤭 babe you asked for angst and i delivered, lmk how you like it <3 bet y'all thought you needed tissues for something else😏

Max Verstappen

“Mate, you still haven’t told her?” you heard Lando whisper, making your eyebrows shoot up. What were they talking about? As you finally decided to approach your boyfriend and his friend, you heard Max whisper.

It was low, so low that you almost didn’t catch it, but the way your hand froze on the knob and the utter stillness of your heartbeat indicated that you heard him loud and clear when he slowly said, “I don’t know how to.”

That. That was the reason you froze. You were processing what you heard. Your heart pulled from its rightful place—no, it was ripped out.

God, you thought, anything but that. Anything but cheating because how could you even confront him if he confessed to cheating on you right there on the spot in front of one of his friends?

“It has been going on for too long, Max.” Lando took a deep breath. “You should tell her you love her; she’ll understand.”

Ah. Okay, he loves you; this was okay. But then why was your heart still beating so loudly that you could hear it in your ears?

“How do you think I should go about it?” Max asked, and that was when you finally had enough. You turned the knob, but Lando was already speaking, and his words had you freeze again.

The boys' heads snapped up, eyes wide when they saw you walk in. You felt your eyes burn as Lando’s last words finally processed.

“You should’ve thought about it before you decided to make a stupid bet with those dumb men.”

“Bet?” you wondered aloud as you saw Max stumble over to you. What bet?

“No bet!” you heard your panicked boyfriend almost scream. You were so confused you didn’t even know what you were saying out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lando said as he stood from the couch, glaring at Max. “Y/N deserves to know.” You kept your eyes on Max, trying to gauge an explanation from his clearly messed-up state.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” you finally looked at your boyfriend’s best friend. “I clearly shouldn’t have trusted Max to—”

“I think you should leave,” Max groaned out as if it pained him to hear Lando talk, almost hissing out the last word. They started bickering back and forth, and through your hazy mind, you could only make out a few words.

But they were enough. You took a deep breath as you stepped away from Max towards the door. He was too busy focusing on Lando anyway.

“Y.. you’re saying I was a bet?” Your voice cut through the chaos, and it was Max’s turn to go dead silent and freeze on the spot.

“You asked me ou—” Oh god, you didn’t want to cry, “—because of a dare?”

Max’s eyes were wide with horror, his face pale as he took a step toward you, his hands reaching out in desperation. “No, Y/N, it’s not like that, please, let me explain.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably. “Explain what, Max?” Your voice cracked on the last word, the pain too raw to hold back when you saw Max was also crying. “How a…all i have be— this relationship has been is a fucking lie?” The moment you said it out loud, you heard Lando take in a sharp breath. Max looked disheveled, he could just tell that this was the only time he could repair this. You looked a minute away from walking out and the thought of that had him talking even through his closed up throat.

His voice broke, choked with emotion. “No, Y/N, I swear, it wasn’t like that. It started as a stupid dare, yes, but then... then I fell in love with you. I fell so hard, it—” His words stumbled over each other, barely coherent through his tears. “I called the whole thing off.”

You cut him off, your voice trembling and thick with hurt. “You should have told me right then. As soon as you called it off, you sho—” Your body shook, barely able to stand under the weight of your heartbreak. “How could you do this to m.. me?”

Max rushed forward to hold your hands, breathing heavily to get himself under control so he could talk as he sobbed. “I was so fucking scared, Y/N. I didn’t want to lose you. You mean everything to me.”

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling your heart shatter all over again. It was one thing to know someone’s apology was sincere and another to know that they had faked being sincere from the very beginning. So how could you even tell the difference now? Your voice came out in a broken whisper. “How can I trust you now? How can I believe anything you say?” You were almost gasping for breath, each word an effort as you tried to hold back the sobs wracking your body.

Lando’s voice was soft but firm from behind you, though his own eyes were hard. “He’s telling the truth, Y/N. He was an idiot, but he’s been head over heels for you for a long time.”

Max’s tear-streaked face looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything. Just... don’t leave me.” His voice broke, the last word coming out as a wail of despair.

You turned away, unable to bear the sight of him, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with raw agony. “I can’t be here.” You could barely see through your tears, your entire body trembling.

Max’s anguished sobs followed you as you walked away, your heart feeling like it was being torn from your chest with every step. The pain was unbearable, and you stumbled, nearly collapsing under the weight of your sorrow but Lando caught you as he held you by your shoulders.

You needed to be alone, to process everything, and to decide if love could truly overcome betrayal. But right now, it felt like your world was ending.

Lewis Hamilton

“Y/N, baby please—”

Lewis’s voice pleaded as you shut the door behind, your heart splintering into a thousand pieces. Tears blurred your vision as you staggered away from your apartment, the weight of betrayal crushing your chest.

To think that you used to gush about him, about this, the vague lie you had to others. Not even a few steps away from your apartment, you were bent over, retching into a nearby dustbin.

How could luck be so cruel? How could you have been so blind?

You wandered the streets, tears falling down your cheeks as your brain replayed the moments when Lewis first approached you at a random club party, despite your friends warning you that someone like him must have nefarious reasons. But you were smitten.

“I’m sorry, but I don't know what you’re doing here,” you had said to him, feeling your heart beat faster when a smirk adorned his face in return. He looked majestic under the club lights. “Where else would I be?” he muttered, mesmerized as he looked at you, “If not with the most beautiful girl in this club?”

He made you feel special, validated in a way you had never felt before. Now, the memory turned sour in your mind, leaving you feeling sick and disgusted. You dry heaved again.

At least he had the decency to confess. Standing here in the cold, his words from when he sat you down with him echoed in your ears— his pleading, his apologies, his desperate attempts to explain. But what did it matter now?

“How could you?” you whispered, thump! thump! thump! your heart pumped as you heard it in your ears, your voice barely audible through the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Was I just a game to you?” That was the first thing you said after his almost ten-minute rant.

You had stopped listening though, right when he had told you what exactly made him approach you. Your first meeting was so magical, so precious to you, but it was all ruined now.

His friend had dared him because Lewis’ morale was down. He was having the worst day of his life after losing an almost sure race win, and his friends knew the only way to cheer him up was through a challenge.

Lewis reached out when he saw that you were lost in your thoughts, his voice desperate and shaky. “No, Y/N, please listen to me—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t. Just don’t…”

“Please,” he pleaded, looking nothing like the man you loved, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I messed up, but I love you more than anything.”

You felt your heart breaking all over again because you genuinely couldn’t recognize the man standing in front of you— the man who had played you, was probably still playing you. “You should have thought about that before…”

Unable to bear another moment, you left, leaving his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You were nothing more than a pawn in his game of masculine pride and insecurity. The realization hit you like a freight train, leaving you gasping for air as you collapsed against a nearby wall, sobs wracking your body.

How could someone who once made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so broken?

Carlos Sainz

The evening was warm, and the restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversation. You sat with your boyfriend, Carlos, his friends, and a few of your own. It was a casual dinner, the kind you rarely held since Carlos was so busy.

“I can't believe we wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t dared Carlos to ask you out,” Javier chuckled as he saw you lean forward to kiss your boyfriend.

Laughter erupted around the table but quickly died down when they realized the utter horror on your face. An uncomfortable silence settled in, and you noticed the tension.

Your wide eyes moved from one face to another, finally landing on Carlos, whose expression had turned serious. He glared at Javier, and you sensed something was wrong. You felt uncomfortable, and the need to flee clutched you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice small yet cutting through the awkwardness as you held Carlos’ hand under the table. He squeezed it in return.

“Uh, nothing,” Javier stammered, realizing his mistake. His discomfort was evident, triggering your fight-or-flight response.

You turned to Carlos. “What’s going on?” Your voice held a very tiny hope, hoping this was all a prank that would be over soon.

He sighed as he squeezed your hand again, his frustration evident. “We should talk about this at home.”

You pulled your hand away from his, your confusion and hurt growing. The others at the table exchanged looks of pity, further igniting your anger.

“No, we’re talking about it here. What’s going on?” you demanded as a shaky breath left your lips.

Carlos looked around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” He stopped himself again.

“Tell me what?” Your voice grew louder, drawing the attention of nearby diners.

Before he could respond, one of your friends, Beatrice, chimed in, “Just tell her, for God’s sake!” You looked at her in solitude, glad that you had some kind of support here.

“I dared Carlos to ask you out as a joke!” Javier blurted out just as you were managing to form a small smile to pass to your friend.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What?” The chair creaked under you as you pushed it away from the table, and your boyfriend held your hand again.

“Please, it wasn’t like that,” Carlos tried to calm you down, but he was panicking himself. He was still whispering that you could not feel anything else in the world anymore. That was enough evidence.

You stood up, knocking your chair over as you once again snatched your hand away from his. “Wasn’t like what? You made me believe this was fucking real!”

Other diners began to whisper and pull out their phones, recording the scene as he stood up as well. With a desperate look, Carlos reached out to you, but you stepped back.

“This whole time, I was just a fucking… dare to you?” you shouted.

People around the restaurant started filming, their phones pointed at the escalating scene. Carlos's anger boiled over. He grabbed a nearby phone and smashed it against the table. The room fell silent, shocked gasps filling the air.

“Carlos, stop!” One of his friends tried to pull him back.

“You all think this is funny?” Carlos yelled at the onlookers, distracted now, and you knew what you were going to do as he turned around to yell again. “Get your own fucking life!”

You stood up, tears streaming down your face. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice breaking. You were already walking away when you felt your friend follow you.

As you left the restaurant, you could hear the whispers and see the flashes of cameras. You knew this would go viral, but at that moment, you didn’t care. Your heart ached with betrayal and anger.

Carlos realized a bit too late that you were gone. Frustrated, he ran out to catch up with you and tried to call you again and again.He didn't know at the time that he would never catch a hold of you after this.

Charles Leclerc

You were scrolling through social media when a notification from an unknown sender caught your attention. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t, curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on the thumbnail showing your boyfriend at a party.

The video started playing. It was from months ago, showing Charles in an outfit that you recognized but couldn’t remember from where. Ethan's voice could be heard clearly over the music. “I dare you to ask that girl out,” Ethan said, laughing, but you still couldn’t tell who he was pointing at. “Bet you can't do it.”

Charles grinned, looking a little tipsy. “You're on,” he replied, to the cheers and jeers of his friends. The grainy video ended with Charles approaching you. A deafening silence enveloped you when you realized this was from the day you first met him.

Charles had a determined look on his face, but the video faded into the background. Your thoughts echoed painfully in the emptiness, the truth of your lover's betrayal reverberating within you.

Your heart sank further as you sat in silence to process. You felt a rush of emotions— betrayal, hurt, and anger. Tears welled up in your eyes as you replayed the video, hoping it was some sort of sick joke. But the evidence was right there, undeniable.

At that moment, the door to the apartment opened, and Charles walked in, a smile on his face. “Hey, love. What are you up to?” he asked, not noticing your distress at first.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with tears. “What is this?” you demanded, holding up your phone with the video paused at the damning moment.

Charles's smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of horror. “Baby, how did you—” he started, stepping towards you as he felt the room spin a bit, all the blood rushing to his head.

“Does it matter?” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger as tears gathered under your eyes. “When you only even looked at me because of a stupid bet?”

“It started as a bet, yes,” Charles admitted, his voice pained. “But it's not like that now. I fell in love with you, Y/N. Everything we've had since then has been real.” He was quickly getting closer to you, but you flinched away and that stopped him dead in his tracks.

You shook your head, unable to believe what you were hearing. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You were so angry, your ears so warm that it wouldn’t be impossible if smoke started coming out of them.

Charles reached out, but you stepped back once again. “Please, Y/N. I was an idiot. I shouldn't have agreed to that dare, but I did. And yes, that's how it started. But the moment I got to know you, everything changed. I love you more than anything.”

“Do you have any idea just how humiliating this is?” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I thought what we had was special. I thought it was real. And now I find out it was all… a gamble to you.” You hated that you were showing him so many emotions but fuck, it hurt so much and you wish you could hurt him back.

“It is not a gamble,” Charles pleaded, tears forming in his eyes. “Not after I got to know you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Please, don't let this ruin us.” He could actually feel you slipping through his fingers.

“Fuck you, you’re the one who ruined this!” you said, turning away, trying to gather your thoughts, willing yourself to leave and hating yourself when you couldn’t. “Seriously,” you said quietly, not looking at him. “Fuck you.” You laid emphasis to show that you actually meant the words. “You’ve ruined me”

“Baby,” Charles's voice broke when he heard you say that he ruined you, but the way you glared at him because of the nickname had him backtracking. “Y/N, please just let me show you how that was all a lie. I love you. I can't fucking lose you over this.”

You walked to the door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere. “It is still all a lie,” you declared in a voice that showed you were shutting down, barely above a whisper.

As you stepped out of the apartment, you heard Charles crying behind you, but you didn’t stop to mend his heart because you couldn't even feel yours in your chest.

Lando Norris

Lando’s phone buzzed with notifications as he stepped out of the room and you glanced at it absentmindedly, not intending to invade his privacy. But the screen lit up with messages from his friends’ group chat, and the first few lines caught your eye, seeing your name in them.

“Can’t believe Lando actually went through with it.” “I know, right? It’s hilarious that she still doesn’t know!”

Your heart sank as you read further, each message a dagger to your trust. They were discussing you— about Lando making a bet involving you. Your hands trembled, and you scrolled through the conversation, your worst fears unfolding before your eyes.

“Thought he’d be gloating but he hasn’t contacted at all.” “Shit, man, he’s been with her for a year. I'm not paying him that much!”

You felt sick to your stomach. The room spun around you as you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the betrayal. All those times you believed in Lando, trusted him with your heart— were they all just part of a cruel scheme? A fucking game?

You heard Lando approaching, unaware that you had seen everything. His smile faded as he saw the look on your face, the phone still clutched tightly in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously, sensing the tension in the air as he approached you with wide eyes.

This has happened before. Lando was always scared of coming home and finding it empty because you had found out about something he was afraid to tell you but in the past he was always wrong. It was a show, a friend, a book making you cry but today was different.

You held up the phone, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Care to explain this?”

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to dread as he realized what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Fuck, you really had me convinced!” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You made a bet? How much have you made so far, Mr. Norris?”

“Don't say that,” Lando looked like you had slapped him across his face. He reached out to you, his face pleading for forgiveness. “Y/N, I swear it wasn’t like that—”

“How much was it?” you demanded, the words laced with bitterness. “Bet you made a lot the day you finally got laid, huh?” “No!” Your boyfrie— ex-boyfriend screamed. His eyes were carrying moisture and you couldn’t help but scoff but he carried on. “I never took a single penny, Y/N. I.. I promise, I hadn’t even talked to them since the day i realized what assholes they were and—”

Lando’s face fell, his words faltering as he rushed forward to catch you in his arms, his tears finally falling once he saw your wet face. But the truth hung heavy in the silence between you, suffocating any hope of reconciliation.

Tears fell down your cheeks onto his arm as he kissed your head and whispered sweet nothings and sorry, I’m so sorry so so sorry sorry sorry, again and again against your head, blurring your vision. “I trusted you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I loved you.”

The weight of it all settled on you, and you sank deeper into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. The anger that fueled you moments ago now gave way to a deep, searing pain. How could he have done this to you?

Lando kneeled down before you, his own tears betraying the magnitude of his mistake. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, reaching for you. “I never meant for you to find out.”

He carried on but your ears started ringing when the words registered. Wouldn’t a person with nothing to be guilty about, accept the truth and make up? Why was he so hell bent on keeping it under a hush?

His words felt hollow, empty promises in the wake of his betrayal and you cut him off as you pushed him away from you . “Get out,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

Lando hesitated, torn between wanting to explain and knowing that no explanation would mend what was broken. “Please,” you whispered and it was so small, so scared that he got up immediately and nodded.

He kissed your head again and you let him linger as you closed your eyes,“I.. I’ll be back, baby.” With a final, agonized look at you, he turned and left, leaving you alone in the wreckage of your shattered trust.

The silence enveloped you, broken only by your ragged breaths and the echoes of his footsteps fading away. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to hold together the pieces of your heart that he had callously shattered.

As the tears continued to fall, you felt a different kind of ache—the ache of knowing that the love you had believed in was now a painful memory because yes, he was coming back but you wouldn’t be here.

Later, Lando would enter the house in hopes of finding you but just like his worst nightmare, you wouldn’t be there. You wouldn’t be there to hold him as he’ll slowly lose it running across the house while he’ll look for you. None of your things would be there.

Yes, he destroyed you but also himself.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[tojisun]

(word vomit; just thinking about simon having a cute crush 🥹)

simon’s known for being over-prepared.

boy scout riley, price endearingly calls him. it’s not even that far from the truth—he’s always got an extra shirt or shorts or boxers packed in his car, with a standard medicine kit and trauma blankets. he’s even got a tire repair kit tucked in his trunk and, hell, an extra tire packed in one of his bigger trucks. he’s even developed the habit of always having his tank close to full because they can never know when a drive-out turns into a four-day trip.

point is that simon ensures that he is always prepared for anything.

so imagine their surprise when they catch simon frequenting a far-away petrol station; always at eleven in the evening, and always during the weekdays.

once in a week was a standard trip, twice was lips-pursing, but five times? that one is a notable pattern.

so they shadow him; price picking up the lads in his truck to stalk simon. they follow at a decent distance, opting about three cars between simon’s rover and price’s truck to avoid suspicion and hopefully throw simon off the idea that they’re on his tail.

what? price is not at fault for wanting to uncover what the hell was simon really after from that esso.

well, it wasn’t a what, per se, but a who—and it was a sleep-deprived clerk who looks about two caffeine cups away from a meltdown.

they watch the way simon prepays his petrol so that he can talk to you. hs hits you up with a careful greeting, one that unfurls your grumpy face into a genuine smile. and this, price realizes it for what it is—you and simon are familiar with each other.

so this means that whatever this thing you and simon have was happening for a while now.

interesting. price thinks as he hauls johnny and kyle back to his truck to give simon and his cute little crush their privacy.

very, very interesting.

[hxney-lemcn]

SOS — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: The one time you try to be proactive its like the world has it out for you; or, you get hurt while cleaning Ramshackle dorm and the overblot boys are the one who helps you.

tw: mentions of blood, injury, Malleus is a bit overdramatic...so is Grim.

wc: 1.8k (~230 each character)

Master List

No phone, no tv, not even a book. Not wanting to leave the comfort of your dorm, you decide to start something you’ve been putting off for quite some time now. Cleaning. You started with the living quarters, then the kitchen, then the closet. When you finished with the first floor you decided you’d clean your room and be done. Fate seemed to not be on your side, as when you climbed up the creaky steps, one step was a bit too creaky. When you put your full weight on it, you let out a gasp as the wood gave out from under you. Yes, that's right, your dorm was so run down that the stairs gave out on you. And there you lay in pain, no way to contact anyone. Thankfully, Grim came back from whatever he was doing to avoid helping you clean, you had never seen him look so horrified when he found you among the rubble of wood, splinters galore with bruises and scratches covering your skin. You also never saw Grim run so fast for something that wasn’t his premium cans of tuna. You could only hope he could find help quickly, it felt like something was wrong with your ankle and you wanted to get help asap.

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle watched the panicked Grim wearily. He was always with the Aduece duo so he thought Grim was panicked from their troubling shenanigans. Instead, he felt his heart drop when Grim sputtered your name among the words fallen and hurt. Riddle rushed to the Ramshackle dorm with Cater and Trey in tow. When he found you, battered and bruised he felt his blood boil. He knew your dorm was run down, that it needed repair, but he didn’t think that Crowley would be so neglectful to the point of it harming someone. He would have to have a stern talking to the headmaster after he knew you were treated properly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to carry you as he…was small for the average man…but he made sure Trey held you gently, constantly asking how you feel and if there’s anything he can get you to help. As soon as you were in the infirmary being treated, he marched his way straight to the headmasters office. No way was he going to allow this to continue, Crowley must renovate your dorm this instant and he won’t settle for less. In the meantime, he’ll take care of you in his dorm, you were basically a Heartslabyul student already, so it made sense. Don’t worry, prefect, he’ll help you while you're injured, although the extra attention you get from everyone makes him a little jealous.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

He was trying to get some rest when your little pest of a rat came bothering him. He opened one eye to glare, confused as to why Grim would be crying. Leona could barely make out what the creature was blubbering about, snapping at him to speak clearly. So when Grim finally managed to shout that you're critically injured and you're going to die and you need help, Leona didn’t hesitate, grabbing the rat by his scruff and stalking towards your dorm. He’ll be damned if you're hurt, what did you even do to get into that state? He swears you are such a headache. His green eyes scanned your dorm, finally falling upon your form in a heap of wood, your weak cry of his name making his ear twitch. So many emotions pooled into him as he noted every little scratch. Although he grumbled, ears twitching and tail swaying angrily, he held you softly, making sure not to hurt you anymore than you already were. And no, clearly your dorm was falling apart, no way in hell was he letting you go back. You were treated much better that time you both shared his room, so what’s the problem? You’re stuck with him now, herbivore. Don’t worry that silly little head of yours, he’ll make sure he clears things up with Crowley.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Poor, poor Grim. As he ran out, tears blurring his vision, he cried out for help to the first shadowy figure he could. Unfortunately that was Floyd and Jade. The two eels grinned toothily, Grim once again being perfect prey…though they paused as Grim mentioned your name. Floyd asked what was wrong with shrimpy, and that’s when Grim cried out about how you're a bloody heap of a mess, dying alone as they speak. Jade quickly pulls his phone out, alerting Azul of the current circumstance as his brother is already making his way towards your dorm. Although the Leech twins can be cruel, you were not only their friend, but their boss’s love, and so when they found you, not in as dire of a situation as Grim made it be (you were clearly hurt, but not dying), they gently pried the wood off of you and carried you to the infirmary. Azul was already there, waiting anxiously, his heart dropping when he saw your state. You gave him a strained smile, and his heart broke, even with your terrible injuries, you’re still trying to comfort him. Don’t worry prefect, he and the twins will watch over you until the last scratch seals and the last bruise fades. Oh, and your dorm? Don’t worry about that, Azul will make sure Crowley pays the price for his negligence towards you. He has his ways, after all.

❥ Jamil Viper

When Jamil spots Grim running towards him, he feels his headache growing worse. Kalim had been worse than usual with his spending, and now he’ll have to deal with another problem. That headache grows ten times worse when Grim manages to sputter about how you’re hurt and need help. Without a second thought, Jamil drops his current task, rushing to your dorm. His heart was pounding, scared of just how hurt you could be, why that was, and if he was too late. You’ve been the only thing keeping him sane lately, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without you. When he found you dazed with wood surrounding you he dropped to your side, assessing the damage done before doing his best to pick you up. Once you were safe and sound in the infirmary, he tried to stay by your side for as long as he could. He didn’t mind the idea of tending to you, especially not with you in this state. But his duty lied elsewhere, and eventually he had to wrench himself away, but only when you fell asleep peacefully and that it was confirmed that you’d recover well. What surprised him was when Kalim told him to take care of you, that he could take care of himself for the time being (he couldn’t and Jamil knew that)...and now you were a Scarabia student, both Kalim and Jamil refused to allow you back into that decrepit dorm and hurt yourself any further.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Rook and Vil were actually on their way to see you when they stumbled upon a sniveling, sobbing, Grim. They watched him as he mumbled and muttered, spewing incoherent sentences. Vil stared at him with a sharp look, telling him to get to the point. He felt his heart drop when your name was spouted along with hurt and dying. Without a second thought, Rook took off towards your dorm, Vil not far behind. He cared for you far too much to just sit around when you needed his help. He hadn’t even managed to enter your dorm, Rook already carrying you out. Vil rushed to your side, moving your hair out of your face and inspecting you for anything that was death threatening. His heart continued to break as you complained about the pain on the way to the infirmary. He did his best to comfort you, promising to treat you to whatever you wish once you were fully healed. By the end of the day, he’s already finished giving an ultimatum to Crowley. If he doesn’t repair Ramshackle, then not only will he expose him, but he’ll make sure you're taken into Pomefiore and treated properly. He won’t let such an offense be taken lightly. 

❥ Idia Shroud

Grim was lucky he ran into Ortho. The humanoid android may look small, but he’s got strength. Grim was sobbing to the point of hysteria, unable to properly communicate the dire situation. Thankfully, Ortho doesn’t need any convincing, only following the poor creature scrambling back to Ramshackle dorm. When Ortho saw you collapsed in a heap of rubble his inner alarms blared. An emergency signal was sent to Idia, and when Ortho sent the message of bringing you to the infirmary he felt a rush of panic hit him. Scrambling, he turned on the security camera footage, watching with wide eyes at you in Ortho’s arms. You had blood and bruising, dear seven what happened? His fear of your well being overpowered his fear of everything else, and he quickly ran…walked to the infirmary. He awkwardly stayed by your side as Ortho fetched whatever you needed, his eyes tracing over every scratch and cut. He felt like it was his fault somehow. You looked better with the blood wiped off though, and you weren’t in critical condition. When you jokingly mentioned that even stairs were your enemy here Idia frowned. He anonymously messages Crowley while you sleep, sending clips that could ruin his career. He won’t release them, as long as Crowley rebuilds Ramshackle to be as spick and span as any other dormitory. 

❥ Malleus Draconia

The second Grim stumbles upon Malleus and snaps out of his hysteria. The fear of the powerful being overwhelms him for a second before he pitifully mutters that you need help. Malleus only tilts his head at the tiny creature before nodding, silently asking him to lead the way. At first Malleus didn’t think much of it, only happy that you needed his help. That was until he heard your weak whimper, then saw your frail body mutilated by debris…yeah he’s the most dramatic one. Although you were hurt you definitely weren’t mutilated. He’s also the most gentle, carefully cupping your face as the wood that surrounded you was instantly incinerated. Every wince or whimper as he lifted you up was met with profound apologies, like he was the one who hurt you instead of rotting infrastructure. Instead of taking you to the infirmary, he takes you to his room where he brings only the best healers. Please don’t try to stop him, this is for your well being, and he won’t settle for mediocre. Lilia only encourages him, and his retainers are no help. So you're stuck in the biggest bed with the silkiest sheets…actually it's dangerous that you were brought here because you're not sure you could go back to the itchy thin cotton sheets you’ve been stuck using as blankets. Though, you won’t really have to worry about that because Malleus has already made the decision to keep you with him in his room…well if you’re not comfortable with that then he’ll give you your own room and he’ll make sure it has the best amenities. Just don’t mind that it's right next to his room.

[solarsturniolo]

𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖞 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You never got along with him. Even after years of being friends with his brothers, he never gave you a second glance. He’s hated you for almost six years, what could one weekend at their family’s lake house do to change that?

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: None of my stories are real, they are all fictional. You are responsible for what you read. Please read with caution. Practice safe sex. A tritoon is a type of boat. This is a two part story, there will ONLY be two parts and they will be long. THERE WILL NOT BE A THIRD PART TO THIS STORY.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: This basically turned into a novel. lots of plot (you’ve been warned) / Toxic!Matt (if you squint) / tension building / enemies trope / cursing / SMUT / dumbification kink / p in v / unprotected sex / Dom!Matt / spanking / pet names / lots of dirty talk / a true breeding kink / creampie /

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 15,140

©Solarsturniolo 2024

You were never friends.

How could you be?

His brothers were easy to get along with. Nick cherished you. He had a hard time maintaining friendships, people came and went like the seasons or the wind. It took a while for him to open up fully, afraid that it would be the same with you. But you were different. You stayed during the hard times, loving him when he felt like he couldn’t love himself. It made a change in how he perceived friendships. He rarely went anywhere without offering you an invite. All of his social media pages; an intricate collage of pictures and videos together, capturing your happiest moments with each other. His camera roll practically bursting with memories. Years worth of polaroid pictures remained tacked onto his wall, even as time passed he never took them down. He made his appreciation of your friendship known, never shying away from his platonic love for his best friend. 

Chris adored you. In his words, you were like the sister he never had. You immediately clicked the first time you had met, something he wasn’t used to. He was fairly reserved around new people, but you brought his personality out so naturally and easily. People made their assumptions about your relationship with him, it was difficult for them not to when you were both practically joined at the hip; doing everything together even if it was insignificant as going to the garage for a soda or making a trip to the nearby convenience store. He knew everything about you, and you, him. Though his love was platonic, he made it known to everyone: he loved you. Things weren’t perfect, you had arguments and disputes, but at the end of the day he would do anything to repair the cracks and wears in the foundation of your friendship. 

Matt despised you. Or, at least, that was how it felt. He never went out of his way to initiate conversation with you, and it was rare for him to acknowledge you in social settings. Sometimes you could feel him looking at you. It was a feeling that made your blood run cold, your skin crawling with goosebumps. It was worse when you caught him; the way his eyes scanned over you, a shit eating smirk plastered on his face as he looked away, paying no mind to you for the rest of the time you were there. It was a weird feeling, one that would keep you up at night. Part of you wanted to smack that grin off of his face, to pluck his wandering eyes right out of his head. You hated the way his gaze objectified you, making you feel weak and helpless while everyone around you remained ignorant to his behavior. You hated the way he’d cut you off when you’d speak, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his face when you’d shut down and shy away from the conversation, only speaking again if prompted by another person. 

You knew that he did it for some weird power trip. To control you, at least to a certain extent. Years went by, but his behavior remained a constant variable. How he could go years of giving you the cold shoulder, you had no idea, but he managed to do it with ease. But as the years went by you cared less and less. As long as his sour mood and crude behavior didn’t intervene with the friendships you had built with his brothers, you couldn’t care less…

Or that's what you told yourself. 

It ate away at you, no matter how much you told yourself that you didn’t care. Why doesn’t he like me? What did I ever do to him? What do I do to fix it? Why don’t his brothers see it? The way that he looks at me and treats me…Why does it all get swept under the rug? It swirled around your mind, haunting you with hypothetical ideas of how you could have changed everything. Anything you could have done differently just to be on okay terms with him. You weren’t asking for much; you didn’t expect him to be best friends with you, and you certainly had no expectation of him to fall to his knees and declare his undying love for you. But a smile every now and again, a kind word here and there…it would be enough.

It certainly would have made this trip more enjoyable.

“MATT! Quit skipping my music!”

“Or what, Chris? You’ll just queue more-”

Chris leaned over the center console, getting into his brother’s personal space. Matt kept his eyes glued to the wide stretch of road in front of them. “I built that queue from the ground up, I very meticulously chose each song-”

“Chris, what’s the definition of meticulous,” Nick spoke up, his head still resting on your shoulder, eyes glued to his phone. He really wasn’t paying much attention to his brothers squabbling, but his bullshit radar could pick up their nonsense from miles away. The way he interjected himself into the conversation made you smile, he always found a way to be included in their arguments, even if it was just to feed the flame. 

Chris turned his head to look at Nick, furrowing his brow at him. “Why do you need the definition if I know how to use the word right?” 

“Did you use the word right?” Nick rebutted. 

Their argument continued for another ten minutes, even after Chris had Googled the word and passed his phone around as if he were in a blunt rotation, the definition displayed on his screen for everyone to see. His smug demeanor was short lived, though. Matt and Nick very rarely lost an argument with their brother, but when they did, they would share a mutual look and move into Phase Two: gaslight the motherfucker until his brain fried. 

Sometimes it was entertaining to watch, but after being trapped in a car with them for, going on, four hours, you were ready for some peace and quiet. The sound of their quarreling became muffled as you put your airpods in, the noise canceling feature kicking into high gear once both pods were snug in place. You flicked through different playlists on your phone before selecting one that was a little less…intense than the music Chris had been playing previously. Pressing the shuffle button, you let your phone fall into your lap, resting your head against the window and watching the endless line of trees pass by. Nothing but brush and trees for miles ahead. You were excited to be going on this trip with some of your best friends, but you couldn’t help the sense of dread that lingered like a shadow in a dark alleyway. Something terrifying looming in the air, a figure of black lurking just out of sight. A bottomless pit of existential worry formed in your stomach just thinking about anything and everything that could go wrong.

This was going to be a long weekend.

X O X O X O

Gravel crunched beneath the tires, loose pebbles flying up as the beast of a vehicle slowly came to a stop in the unpaved driveway. 

It was late. 

There was still some light outside, enough to see the cluster of dark clouds beginning to close in. The faint warm glow seeping through the windows of houses just across the stream contributed some light, but not much. The dark shadows from the trees absorbed most of it before it could get very far. As the van shifted into park, you lifted your head from where it had been resting, somewhat uncomfortably, against the window. The roar of the engine, that you had all unknowingly grown accustomed to, died down to a soft purr before stopping entirely. The overhead lights flickered to life, illuminating the interior of the car with a hazy yellow glow. For a brief moment, everything came to a complete stop. 

Within the next five seconds, three truths became very evident: One; Chris was asleep. Two; Nick was asleep. And three; you were not. 

Someone else realized this as well, and his sharp icy glare penetrated your skull like an ice pick through the reflection of his rearview mirror. This didn’t go unnoticed by you, it never did, but it was easier to pretend like it did. As you took out your airpods and tentatively placed them back into their case, you shifted in your seat, the squeaking of the leather just barely being drowned out by the music still playing in the car. The song that softly drifted through the speakers was different from what had been playing earlier; smoother, languid, sultry. The lyrics were alluring and sensual, covered by an addictive instrumental that complimented the underlying provocative tone perfectly. It was sexy, it was passionate…

And it made no appearance on any of Chris’s playlists. 

You shifted in your seat again, a sharp inhale coming from the front of the car as the leather squeaked again. “I’ll start unloading the back,” you spoke up, your voice faltering towards the end. He responded with silence, his gaze shifting away from the mirror to stare out of the windshield instead. 

Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your shoes as you stepped out of the van. You took a deep breath as you escaped the tense atmosphere in the car, not realizing you had been holding your breath until now. The air was crisp, underlying earthy and musty tones accompanying the clean, fresh breeze that swept over your shoulder. The faint smell of rain began to grow heavy in the air, the dark clouds overhead drawing in. Treading to the back of the car, you opened the trunk and began unloading the bags that were messily stacked on top of each other. 

Chris and Nick emerged from the passenger side of the car, both of them trudging over to collect their things. It was clear they hadn’t woken up willingly. Nick’s cowlick stuck out like a sore thumb, his eyelids heavy with sleep. Chris yawned obnoxiously, earning himself an irritated glare from his brother. You laughed softly at the sight, handing them their respective bags. Like a bat out of hell, Matt came around to the back of the car and tugged his luggage out from the trunk, his elbow knocking into your arm in the process. He didn’t pay you a second glance as he slammed the trunk shut, his footsteps heavy and dragging as he walked down the gravel driveway. 

Nick rolled his eyes. “Great. We just love grumpy Matt,” he huffed, his tone laced with sarcasm. You offer an apologetic smile, feeling somewhat responsible for Matt’s attitude. It was nothing new, this was his behavior any time you happened to be around, but you knew his brothers must have been getting tired of the same old practices coming from him. 

As you followed the other two, Chris slowed his strides to walk with you. Carrying his luggage in his right hand, he hooked his left arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Hey, you know I can see what you’re thinkin’, right?” He starts, his hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I feel like I did…” you sighed, not looking up at him. Nick was oblivious to the interaction, his spatial awareness being almost entirely eradicated when he was half asleep. It didn’t take long for him to disappear from view into the house. 

Chris shrugged. “Well, what did you do then?” he questioned. This time you did look up at him, brow furrowed and a glint of confusion in your eyes. 

“I-I don’t know what I did…”

“Then it’s not you,” Chris smiled. “All him. Don’t pay him any attention. I don’t know what’s got his fucking nuts in a knot, but he’s gonna have to get over it,” he continued. Chris took your bag from your hands as you approached the front porch steps, carrying it up to the door for you. “We’re gonna have fun this weekend, even with Miserable Matt here. Don’t let him get to you.” 

Chris handed your bag back to you, his all too familiar boyish grin making an appearance on his face. It was hard not to return the favor, smiling back at him as you slung the strap of the bag over your shoulder. Chris reached out, his fingers brushing the underside of your chin. “Head up, kid,” he tells you. The loud rumble overhead makes both of you flinch, mirroring each other as you and him look up to the sky. Charcoal clouds flood the open sky, blocking out the vivid shades of orange and pink that would have painted the heavens in their beautiful hues. Chris blindly reached out, opening the door to his family’s vacation home. “C’mon,” he mumbled, beckoning you inside. 

You didn’t move for a second. Getting struck by lightning was almost more appealing than being trapped in a house with Matt for an entire weekend. 

Almost.

You step through the doorway and let the strap of your bag slip off of your shoulder, the bag landing on the floor with a soft thud. The door shut behind you as Chris came inside as well, the deadbolt lock clicking into place. Muffled arguing could be heard from upstairs, followed by the loud slam of a door. ‘We’re gonna have fun this weekend.’ His words taunted you. 

“Not likely,” you huffed.

X O X O X O 

What started as a movie night (an attempt to relax and unwind after your long, tiring road trip), quickly began to progress into a memorable night, just not for the better. You should have known to dismiss yourself when Nick suggested watching a romantic comedy, earning an annoyed grunt from his brother who was sulking at the far end of the sectional. His feet kicked up onto the coffee table as he reclined deep into the cushions on the couch. His blatant disregard and disrespect for his parents’ beautiful (and expensive) furniture made you scoff. 

He shot you a hostile glare, testing you to say what you had been thinking; His electric blue irises, like icicles piercing your skin. Thoughts swirled around in your head as you avoided his gaze, looking straight ahead at the television as Nick flicked through page after page of options, stopping occasionally to read the summary of something that caught his eye. The silence was deafening, you were sure they could all hear you swallowing the lump that had been lodged in your throat. You felt a chill run through you; Even with Chris sitting so close you couldn’t help but feel cold. Frozen. 

“Or we could watch something that won’t bore us all to tears,” Chris suggested, his arm hooking over the back of the sofa. In a spur of passive aggressive frustration, Nick hurled the remote at his brother. The impact was intense enough to draw a groan out of him, and he scowled at Nick as he picked the remote controller up. “I hope the bed bugs DO bite, tonight,” he grunted. 

Nobody even cared about what was put on anymore, just as long as it would break the uncomfortable tension that surrounded them. Finally deciding on a horror movie, Matt switched off the lamp that was next to the couch, the only light in the room coming from the television. Muffled thunder could be heard from outside, and occasionally a white flash of lightning would light up the sky with deep purple shadows. The rain had started a while ago, though it was much more noticeable now as it created a steady rhythm on the roof. The aged wooden boards of the house moaned and creaked with the howling of the wind. Chris turned the volume up on the television to drown out the outside noises. 

Nick was the first to leave. Halfway through the movie, he got up from his spot and shuffled out of the room without a word. Nick wasn’t very chatty when he was tired, usually just communicating through soft grunts and hums, but he was too exhausted to even do that. The floorboards on the stairs groaned with each step he took, though it was only really noticeable if you had been paying attention. 

And you had been paying attention. 

Chris looked down, seeing that your focus wasn’t on the movie playing in front of you, but instead you were staring off towards the staircase that was hidden in the dark shadows of the entryway. He nudged you softly with his arm to break your focus. “He’s just tired. ‘S okay,” he assures you. 

“He seems mad,” you pointed out. 

“He’s not mad. He’s been up since seven this morning, and we all know he’s not a morning person.”

Matt shifted in his spot, inhaling sharply and exhaling just as obnoxiously. Your gaze shifted from Chris to his irritated brother. He didn’t even have to look at you, you could tell exactly how he felt. His posture was as terrible as always, but he was tense, the outline of his shoulder blades evident through his t-shirt. His jaw clenched, emotionless eyes glaring at the television. Arms crossed over his chest, the veins in his arms standing out as his biceps flexed. It didn’t take a body language expert to tell that he was angry, or at the very least annoyed. 

You went quiet as you turned your attention back to the television. You hoped that Chris hadn’t noticed your change in demeanor. The last thing you wanted was to ruin this weekend just by being present; by doing something to make it all about you. Arguing and fighting with Matt would make it about you. Talking to Chris or Nick about it would make it about you. Showing any emotional response to it would make it about you. The easiest thing to do in this situation was stay reserved. 

But Chris was much too conscious of you and your feelings, he always had been. That was one thing you loved so much about him; he was just as in tune with your emotions as he was with his own. However, when he turned his head to glare in his brother’s direction, you wished, for once, that he hadn’t been. “What, Matt.” His voice was gruff and demanding, not even a hint of questioning in his voice. He had gotten sick of Matt’s nasty attitude approximately four and a half years ago, and he officially had enough. “What’s pissing you off this time.”

Matt spared his brother a glance, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “You know how you’re not supposed to talk in the movie theater?” Matt started, pursing his lips as he waited for his brother to reply. Chris rolled his eyes in response. “Same rule typically applies at home.” His tone was passive aggressive, and that was when he finally made eye contact with you. “It’s quite rude.”

“You’re one to talk,” Chris scoffed. 

“The fuck does that mean?” 

You tugged softly at the sleeve of Chris’s t-shirt, attempting to pull his attention away. “It’s fine-“

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” Chris interrupted. He paused the movie, tossing the remote controller in his brother’s direction. “I don’t know what weird ass Netflix Original Series you think you’re in, but this fucking attitude is insufferable,” Chris snapped. He stood up, grabbing his phone off of the coffee table, stuffing it into his pocket. “You give me a fucking headache.” 

“What are you fucking talking about? Netflix Original Series? What kind of comparison is that?” Matt scoffed. 

“A pretty fucking good one. You’ve got this weird ass angsty attitude and nobody can fucking stand it.”

Matt shifted in his spot, his confidence faltering. “Wh- I don’t-“

Chris shot his brother another glare. “Oh, but you actually do. And you act all big and tough until someone finally calls you out on your bullshit. You’ve been on this shit for six fucking years and I’ve fucking had it,” Chris grumbled. His demeanor changes quickly, the flame inside of him burning out. He rubbed his tired eyes as he walked away from the sofa, blindly making his way to the staircase. He grunted out a soft ‘m goin’ to bed’ before disappearing up the stairs, just as Nick had done earlier. 

The floorboards from upstairs could be heard with each step Chris took, muffled creaks and squeaks barely filling the uncomfortable silence in the room until they stopped all together. The dull drumming of the raindrops on the roof filled the uncomfortable silence that engulfed you and Matt as you sat there, refusing to look at each other. There was a soft crackle of television static, and the faint roar of the thunder outside, but nothing else. 

After a few minutes had passed (which had felt more like an hour) you finally decided to steal a glance. Between the light illuminating from the TV and the flash of lightning from outside, all of his features seemed to stand out more so than ever before. The deep shadows beneath his jaw, the light reflecting off of his perfect skin. He pursed his plump lips, almost as if he was about to say something. His earrings glimmered in the dark room, swinging as he turned his head. You felt your heart drop as his eyes locked with yours for the third time that evening. But for once, his gaze held nothing hostile or hateful. His gaze faltered, looking at the couch cushion beside you. He didn’t say anything. He seemed apologetic. Regretful. Remorseful; Something you weren’t sure he was capable of feeling. His fingers picked at the loose threads on the armrest of the sofa, his eyes darting back and forth between the cushions and you. 

You could have drowned in the tension; it flooded the room out of nowhere. It had never been like this before, but then again you had never been left alone with Matt before either. As the tension grew, so did the pit in your stomach. Is he going to snap? What is he thinking? Why hasn’t he said anything? Does he want me to apologize? Why is he acting like this? Why won’t he just get it over with and yell at me? As the thoughts began to consume your entire being, you found your chest constricting, the air catching in your throat with each breath you tried to take. 

“Are you-”

You stood up from the couch the second he spoke. “Yeah, I’m going,” you replied, gracelessly stepping around the coffee table. His brow furrowed as he followed you with his gaze. You paid little attention to it. You were much more focused on getting the fuck out of there. Before he could get another word out, you had already left the room. Making a beeline for your designated room down the hall, you closed the door behind you, finally taking a second to catch your breath. 

This was going to be a very long weekend. 

 X O X O X O

“Why can’t I drive the boat?”

“You can’t even drive a car, why the fuck would we let you drive the boat?” Nick scoffed, looking at his phone attentively. He had gotten comfortable in his seat, taking one of the captain's seats under the shade of the tritoon. His feet were kicked up, heels resting on the leather lounge seats along the inside of the boat. “You need a boating license.”

You had decided to sit on the lounge seats opposite to the ones Nick was using as a personal footrest, soaking up the rays of the sun as they beamed down from the heavens, spears of light penetrating the clouds above. 

Chris stepped onto the boat swiftly, putting down the cooler that he had carried all the way from the house. You weren’t sure why he didn’t wait to fill the cooler once you all had gotten onto the boat, but Chris insisted that he could carry it by himself. You also weren’t quite sure why he had decided to wear a hoodie in 95-degree weather, which surely wasn’t making the job any easier on him. He let out a soft breath as he placed the cooler by the driver’s console, popping it open and pulling an orange Fanta from where it had been buried in the ice. “...Like from SpongeBob?” Chris questioned in response to Nick’s previous comment. He cracked the soda open and brought it to his lips. 

“Or like legally?! You fucking moron?!” Nick retorted, a dumbfounded look finding a way onto his face, his gaze tearing away from his phone to look at you as if to say, ‘are you hearing this shit too?’. You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. 

Chris narrowed his eyes, scowling at his brother. After he had finished taking a much-needed drink, Chris put the can in a random nearby cup holder. “No need to be rude.”

Nick shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unreal,” he muttered, looking at his phone once again. “If you get pulled over without one-”

“You can’t get pulled over on the water.”

Slowly, Nick turned his head toward you, the same dumbfounded look on his face. You couldn’t hold back your laughter, his reaction was unexpected, but hilarious at the same time. “Am I- Are you-” Nick started, gesturing toward you with his phone. Finally, he looked over at Chris again. “Are you a real fucking person? There is no fucking way you just said that with a straight face. Like, I’m genuinely shocked…No, you know what-” he cut himself off, opening his safari app. He made a quick google search before continuing his harangue. “I am stunned. I am astonished. I am dumbfounded, oh that’s a good one… I am aghast. I am appalled. I am flabbergasted-”

“Alright, man,” Matt interrupted him, stepping onto the boat with a few bags in his hands, all of them filled with snacks that the boys had stocked up on earlier that morning when they went on their grocery store run. “I think we got it.” 

He looked sickeningly good this morning. Nothing about what he was wearing was very out of the ordinary, for him at least. A simple white tank top, his renowned blue flannel pyjama pants, and his signature horse pendant: it was simple, it was effortless, it made you want to rip your hair out. You truly envied Matt’s ability to always look good, no matter the time of day or what he was wearing. It wasn’t fair how he could just roll out of bed and look like he had just walked out of a Calvin Klein photoshoot. Then again, nothing about how he looked was fair. His high cheekbones, his sharp jawline, perfectly clear skin; It was a shame he was such a dick.

Chris pouted, crossing his arms over his chest before slumping down into the seat next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from Matt, looking back in Chris’s direction, giggling softly upon seeing the look on his face: defeated and sulking. Nick rolled his eyes at his brother’s childish behavior. He leaned over, pulling an ice-cold Dr.Pepper out of the cooler, cracking it open to take a sip. Chris uncrossed his arms so that he could mock his brother before slinging his arm behind your back, resting it on the railing of the boat. Chris used his free hand to lift his sunglasses, eyeing Matt who stepped off of the boat and back onto the dock. “You sure you don’t wanna come? The Rogers’ are blowing the tube up,” Chris commented, an attempt to persuade his brother into joining them. 

Matt scratched the back of his neck, meeting Chris’s gaze while completely avoiding yours. “In a bit. I haven’t been able to focus a lot back home and I wanted to try to work on Yesterday’s Problem stuff while we’re out here,” he explained, his arm dropping back to his side. “I’ll call you in a bit when I’m done, I just…” Matt trailed off, looking back toward the cabin. “I dunno, I feel inspired, I guess. Motivated.”

“Good,” Nick said simply, placing his beverage in the cupholder in his seat. “It only took you ten months.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware how long it’s been taking,” he grunted. For a moment, his eyes flickered toward you, though you had stopped looking at him a while ago. He shoved his hands into his pockets, jaw clenching as he forced himself to look away.

“Alright. Just call me when you’re ready, we’ll come back around and get you,” Chris shrugged, not caring either way. Matt mumbled something under his breath before turning and heading back towards the house. Chris rolled his eyes as he picked his drink up, taking another sip from it. “Fucker. Probably still mad about last night,” he huffed, pulling you in closer to his side. “Whatever, we’re still gonna have fun, right?” 

For some reason, you felt a weird tightening in your stomach as you watched Matt trudge back towards the house, the sounds of his footsteps growing fainter as he stepped off of the dock. You weren’t sure why you felt this way, almost disappointed that he wasn’t coming too. It was a strange feeling, because you knew deep down that even if he had come, he wouldn’t spare a glance or even a breath in your direction. There was no logical explanation for it, there was no reason why you should want him there, but you did. 

Maybe a part of you hoped that you could sort out your differences. That maybe one conversation alone was all you would need to build a healthy foundation for your friendship. But you didn’t need a time machine to know that would never happen. Having a one-on-one heart to heart with the man that refused to speak to you or look at you…Disney couldn’t find a way to romanticize that one even if they tried. 

“Hey.”

You looked up, his voice dragging you from your thoughts. Chris smiled as your gaze met his, holding out his fist. “Forget him. We’ll have fun without him.” You offered Chris a sheepish smile, gently bumping your fist against his. 

“Whatever you say, Chris.”

X O X O X O

“You sure you wanna be in a house alone with Miserable Matt?”

The time had flown since that morning, hours passing in what felt like minutes. The boys’ neighbors were an absolute delight. You were afraid that they wouldn’t like you, or that they’d be standoffish towards you, but you were pleasantly surprised at how welcoming they had been. Nothing but kindness was directed your way, making it far easier to relax and enjoy your excursion out on the boat with everyone. But by the time you had gone on your third tube ride with Chris, you finally started to feel the fatigue kicking in. 

“I don’t plan on interacting with him,” you laughed lightheartedly, looking over at Chris as you stepped off of the boat and onto the dock. “But I am in desperate need of a shower and a nap.”

Chris pouted, resting his chin on his arms that were folded over the edge of the lounge seats. “You sure you don’t wanna hang out just a little longer?”

“You’ll see me in a little bit. Spend some time with Nick,” you suggested, watching as the two boys turned their heads to make eye contact. Nick grimaced, shaking his head at the thought. You let out another quiet laugh at their typical brotherly behavior. “I’ll see you guys when you get back,” you stated, waving your hand dismissively as you started the walk down the dock. They called out their farewells as their neighbor expertly maneuvered the boat back out onto the lake. 

Getting into the house was easy; Matt didn’t bother to lock the door behind him when he stayed back. As you quietly slipped into the kitchen, you heard the faint music that was playing just down the hallway. ‘As long as I stay quiet, he won’t even know I’m here.’ With that thought fresh in mind, you paid extra mind to close the door behind you with attentiveness, a dull click floating in the air for a moment as the latch slipped into place. Once a few seconds had passed, you made your way through the kitchen, shifting your weight with each step you took to keep your footsteps silent. 

Making your way upstairs was tricky, but once you had made it to your room without drawing his attention, a wave of relief washed over you. You closed the door gently before letting out a deep exhale, taking a few steps into the room before collapsing back onto the bed. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid of your presence disrupting whatever it was that he was doing. Sure, he was an asshole, but he had never done anything to strike that much fear into your heart. Still, the adrenaline rush of not getting caught was like a drug, your heart pounded, you could feel it in your ears as the blood rushed to your head. Nothing you had done was wrong, but it almost felt like it as Matt unknowingly sat in his room just below. 

It only took a few minutes for you to undress, your body wrapped in a bathroom towel as you went around your room to collect the things you would need for your shower. Your heart dropped into your stomach as your toiletries bag slipped out of your hand, landing on the floor with a loud thud. The products that had been securely tucked inside, now scattered around the room. “Motherfucker- Shit!” you hissed under your breath as you got down to clean them up, stuffing them back into the toiletry bag in your hand. A gleam caught your eye, your head turning to see that some of the products had rolled underneath the bed as well. 

‘Now this is just the opening scene of a poorly directed porno,’ you thought to yourself, huffing in annoyance as you bent down, slipping your head and neck under the bed. You used your hands to push yourself forward, your shoulders and back now able to slip under as well. Upon moving further under the bed, it became increasingly obvious that the bottle was too far out of reach, but still you made an attempt. The floorboards creaked and groaned as you shifted your weight, trying your hardest to reach out and grab the mini shampoo bottle. You closed your eyes tightly, the noises almost sounding louder than they normally would. 

You prayed that the music had drowned the sound out, that Matt hadn’t heard the numerous bottles rolling around or the sound of the old wooden floors that gave away any movement that was made in their presence. You especially hoped he hadn’t heard the sound of your head bumping against the wooden bedframe as you tried to slip back out, abruptly stopping when the towel caught onto a nail in the wood, preventing you from moving. 

But of course, your luck had seemed to run out. You felt your heart racing in your chest, your voice getting lodged in your throat at the sound of his footsteps slowly coming up the stairs. You tried again to free yourself, but to no avail. You were screwed, he had caught you. You knew you’d be getting an earful from him once that door opened, but he took his time, his footsteps remaining slow and heavy as he made his way down the hallway. Your eyes screwed shut as the door to the bedroom creaked open slowly. It was quickly followed by silence, but not a regular silence. A thick silence. A silence that made your heart ram against your ribcage. A silence that made you feel like you were about to be torn apart, limb by limb.

“There’s no fucking way-” his voice was hoarse, like he had just seen a ghost. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

X O X O X O

Matt stared at the screen, a yawn slipping past his lips, eyelids heavy with boredom. He had made very little progress on his personal project, though that was no surprise to him. How was he supposed to focus on anything after this morning? Seeing you prancing around in that tiny bikini, leaving so little to the imagination. He tried to push the thoughts out of his head, he always tried but very rarely did he succeed. The image burned into his brain, your skin glowing from the sunscreen you had put on just a few moments prior, your head tilted back as you basked in the warmth of the sunshine. 

He huffed, closing his eyes as he tried to avoid the thought all together. He groaned, his dick stiffening in his pants. His hand slipped over the bulge in his pants, his jaw going slack as he palmed himself slowly. His brow furrowed, eyes staying closed as he thought about how pretty you had looked laid out on those leather seats; Your collarbones taunting him, the valley between your breasts practically yearning for his dick to slide between them. Matt’s fingers wrapped around the outline of his cock, stroking himself through the thin fabric of his pyjama pants. Another soft groan fell from his lips as his imagination plagued him with filthy thoughts. 

‘It’s fine, nobody’s home. Nobody will know.’

Matt shoved his laptop to the empty side of the bed. He situated himself, slightly lifting his hips to pull his pyjama pants down just enough for his cock to slip out. His eyes fluttered open for a moment as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, using his thumb to tease himself, gently rubbing at his tip. 

‘Nobody has to know.’

He let his eyes fall shut again, his head falling back against the headboard. Oh how he wished he could have made his brothers disappear. To suddenly snap his fingers and have you all to himself. To be the only two people on that boat, out in the middle of the lake, bending you over the console with his hand covering your mouth. Matt whimpered at the thought of you on display just for him. Your top discarded on the floor, ample breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips as he held the fabric of your bathing suit bottom aside, having no patience to remove it. His forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths fanning across his knuckles as he muffled your moans with his palm. “Other people are trying to relax on their vacation too, baby,” he would whisper to you, his cock driving into you deeper and deeper. “Can’t ruin that for them, now, can we? That’s not very fair, is it?” 

Matt inhaled sharply, his hand finding a steady pace. He pumped his cock, a ring of precum forming at the base of his fist as it slipped up and down his shaft with ease. It was no use, this was how it always ended: Matt would try with every ounce of self control to focus, to work, to do anything of substance, and each time he would be distracted by you. Even now, with you on a boat in the middle of the lake, he could only focus on you. Your presence taunted him, consistently reminding him that he had to behave himself. That his brothers were there, and that he couldn’t just lay you down on the couch, sprawled out and writhing beneath him while he buried himself between your thighs. 

His heart skipped a beat, his hand slowing to a stop at the base of his cock. Panting softly, Matt paused and looked towards the ceiling, the faint sound of plastic and glass rolling around suddenly grasping his attention. He waited, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, almost as if he was waiting for something else; Another noise to confirm his suspicions. 

When he heard the loud thud, he quickly tugged at his waistband, securing himself behind the confines of his pyjama bottoms. He scrambled out of bed, grabbing the nearest inanimate object on his way out of the room, which just so happened to be a random antique candle holder that his mother had bought specifically for their vacation home. She had a habit of decorating the cabin with numerous knick knacks and novelties, who knew they could potentially come in handy? 

Matt circled the corner, beginning his ascent up the staircase. He cursed under his breath as the floorboards squeaked, surely giving himself away to any potential intruder that had snuck into the house. His grip tightened around the antique, his knuckles turning white. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Matt chewed on his lip as he braced himself for the worst. He stepped forward, making his way down the hallway in slow strides. ‘Somebody snuck in, they’re in your room going through your things. Thank God you went out with Chris and Nick today, who knows what could have happened to you if you hadn’t.’ He stopped just outside of the bedroom door, his chest tightening with fearful anticipation. Matt took a sharp inhale before he grasped the doorknob, turning it and pushing the door open slowly. 

His brain short circuited as he stood in the doorway. “There’s no fucking way-” he croaked out, licking his lips like a man starved, his pupils dilating at the sight in front of him. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

There you were, in all your glory. His dick ached at the sight of you stuck halfway under your bed, your hips up and the hem of your towel just barely protecting your modesty. A soft whine from beneath the bedframe caught his attention. “I-I didn’t mean t-to get stuck,” you timidly spoke. Matt couldn’t do anything but watch, his jaw slack, the candle holder slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. “I just came back to shower, I wasn’t trying to bother you.”

There was just no way that this was an accident. Something had heard his prayers and delivered in the most pleasantly delectable way possible. He blinked a few times as he stood there, unsure if what he was seeing was just a figment of his incredibly active imagination. His jaw clenched as he stepped into the room, adjusting to the reality of the situation. “I can’t have a single fucking day,” Matt muttered, towering over you as he approached the bed, his cock throbbing as you pressed your thighs together tightly. “Not one single goddamn day without you being there.”

You whimpered softly at the sound of his footsteps drawing in closer, the heat rising to your cheeks as you became painfully aware of how exposed you were in this moment. The only thing shielding his wandering gaze was the thin fabric tightly wrapped around you. His voice was thick with something, of what you weren’t sure. He had never spoken to you like this before, and something about it made your head spin. “I’m sorry, I-I-I don’t know-”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he interrupted, swiftly dropping to his knees. Your heart jumped up into your throat as you felt him move down between your legs, his hands gentle as they caressed your calves. The unexpected touch sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped as he moved himself closer, his hips pressing against yours. Matt nearly came in his pants as he watched your own hips press back against his instinctively, a sight he thought he would never see. He watched with a lazy gaze, his jaw slack as your hips molded against his perfectly, like you were made just for him. One of his hands reached up, grasping at the comforter on the bed in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. “You want me to help you get out, princess?” he taunted, his other hand moving to gently grasp your waist. 

You squirmed beneath his touch, unfamiliar with this side of him, though you weren’t complaining. His words made your head feel fuzzy, like tv static. Swallowing your nerves, you let another soft whine escape your throat. You knew it was wrong, allowing this to happen instead of fighting it after the way he had treated you for years. Still, you couldn’t ignore the ache between your legs as he touched you like you were made of glass, as if the slightest bit of force would shatter you. After years of getting the cold shoulder and nothing but passive aggressive comments, you had never expected that he would be so gentle. You whimpered at the sound of him chuckling, his fingers toying with the towel wrapped around you. “Oh no…you don’t want help getting out, do you?” he sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips as he moved his hips back, amused at the sight of your hips following, desperate to stay connected. “You like it, huh? Being at my mercy, stuck right here just for me,” he continued. “Like the universe wanted this. Wanted me to find you and ruin you,” he growled. His humiliating words made your face flush with a deep blush. “Come on, doll. You know I need to hear you,” he mumbled.

An embarrassed whine spilled from your lips. “Y-Yes, I-I like it.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear him inhale deeply at your confession. His hands slid gently over your lower back, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck, ‘s like you knew I was beatin’ my dick, thinkin’ ‘bout you in that tiny fuckin’ swimsuit,” Matt grunted softly. His words hit you like a semi-truck, completely blindsided by his suppressed feelings, but you had little time to process before he started again. “Fuck, you looked so fuckin’ pretty in that swimsuit, darlin’. Got my dick so fuckin’ hard just seeing your tits stuffed into that itty bitty top. Such a naughty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ me all riled up in front of my brothers.” 

His words were filthy, his tone dark and hungry with lust. His eyes flickered down, the blood rushing right to his cock as he watched your thighs press together tightly. His firm hands slid over the curve of your ass, the towel still hiding your body from him. A voice in the back of his head screamed for him to tear it away from you, to leave you completely bare and at his mercy. Despite the burning desire inside of him, craving to feel you and see you at your most vulnerable, he knew he was already riding a very fair line. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to overstep the boundaries he was already inching closer and closer to. “What‘re you tryin’ to hide there?” he cooed devilishly, testing the waters as he slowly slipped his hand beneath your towel, his fingers softly grazing your inner thigh. “You don’t gotta hide from me, little one.”

He didn’t move further than that, his thumb rubbing circles into your inner thigh. Your knees wobbled, the tightness in your clenched thighs growing weaker and weaker. He could feel the trembling in your legs, and yet he didn’t react. It made you feel dizzy how your desperate state seemed to have no effect on him. You whined, your eyes glossing over with frustrated tears as you ached for him, your arousal slipping down your thighs. 

He watched intently, a primal desire burning deep within him. He knew what he wanted, and he was more than ready to take it, but he needed to know that you wanted it too. He needed to know that it was mutual, that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that you could crave him in the same way he had craved you all of these years. He had to know that you desired him, that you wanted him, that you needed him. You had to need him. You had to crave him. 

His mouth went dry as you arched your back ever so slightly, your hips pressing back against nothing as you made a blind attempt to feel him. A defeated mewl from you made his heart swell, his cock straining against the fabric of his pyjama pants, begging to be set free from its cotton confinements. His lips parted, letting out a shaky exhale. He was ready to stop, afraid that he was pushing you too far, though that line had been crossed the moment he knelt down between your thighs. ‘She’s helpless, I’m taking advantage of her, what was I fucking thinking?’ Just as he started to retract his hand, he heard the soft, pleading whine that was trapped from beneath the bed frame. It was unintelligible what you had said, and yet it still managed to make his body flood with warmth. He stilled his movements entirely, unsure if he had heard you correctly. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He couldn’t have made that up…

“Say that again for me, baby. I didn’t quite catch that,” he instructed. 

You couldn’t deny it any longer. The desire was too overwhelming to push aside. “M-More, f-fuck please…m-more.” 

Silence followed, making you uneasy with anticipation. His hand remained between your thighs, but you ached to feel more of him. “You know, I was supposed to be working.” Your body trembled as his fingers inched further up your thigh. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you around, hm? How am I supposed to focus? You weren’t even in the house and I still couldn’t think about anything but you,” he growled lowly. His fingers grasped the hem of the towel and he pushed it up past your thighs, his eyes darkening as he finally caught a glimpse of what he had longed to see for so long. Matt leaned down; he needed to get a better look. He needed the image to be burned into his brain. He needed to see it when he closed his eyes. His hands grasped the back of your thighs, spreading them with a gentle firmness; he didn’t want to hurt you or push you further than you wanted, but like an animal stalking its prey, he wanted to take his time. Matt didn’t want to scare you off, he didn’t want you to run away. He wanted to feel you surrender to him, letting him tear you apart, letting him devour you until you were nothing. “You’re a sight, darlin’. Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desire as he watched your desire drool from your folds. “Beg me.”

Your body tensed at his demand, your stomach twisting into knots. He was teasing you and it was making your brain melt. “M-Matt, p-please,” you mewled weakly. 

“Please what?”

“M-More-” you choked out.

“Come on now, you can do better than that, little bunny.” The nickname was unexpected, but the whine that it drew from you was enough encouragement for him to continue. He chuckled as your thighs filled his palms, your hips desperately pressing back once again, eager to feel anything more from him. Matt licked his lips, the creamy desire between your legs begging for him to have a taste, your pussy tempting him like a ripened peach on a warm summer afternoon, teeth penetrating the ample fruit, sweet juices slipping down his chin carelessly.   “Go on, baby, try again,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning over your heat. 

It was like he had flipped a switch in your brain, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. Your body reacted to every touch, his cold fingertips contrasting with the heat that surfaced your skin. Your lips parted to speak, desperate to tell him exactly how you needed him, everything that you craved from him; But nothing came out. You squirmed around in a pathetic attempt to free yourself just enough to close the space between you. “Oh, my dumb little bunny. Trying to run away already?” He teased, moving one of his hands up your thigh, thumbing slowly at your folds. “Before I’ve even gotten to taste you?”

Your knees felt weak as his thumb circled your clit, his strokes gut-wrenchingly slow. “Nowhere for you to run, bunny. You’re all mine.” It amused him, the way you attempted to grind your hips to feel just a little more friction from him. “You’re not goin’ anywhere until I’m done with this pretty little pussy.” 

“Y-Yours,” you squeaked out. You wanted to say so much more, but that was enough for him. A satisfied smirk curled at his lips. He had you exactly where he wanted you. Years of him dreaming and fantasizing of having you all to himself, thinking that would be the furthest he would ever get with you…years spent daydreaming and envisioning every possible scenario with you...it had all paid off. This wasn’t a dream; this wasn’t his imagination. You were here with him. You were exposed for him, begging for him, giving yourself to him. 

“You learn fast, don’t you? That’s my girl. Maybe you’re not so dumb after all,” Matt mumbled, burying himself between your plush thighs. His thumb slipped away from your clit and down between your slick folds, a chuckle eliciting from the back of his throat. He loved the sounds you made in response to his touch, and he never wanted it to end. If he could tie you down and lay with you, toying with you all day long just to hear your beautiful cries and prayers, he would do it in a heartbeat. He groaned softly, your arousal coating his fingers as he slipped them between your folds, spreading them apart. “God I can’t wait to watch you fall apart on my cock.” 

In an instant, he closed the space between you, his tongue tentatively swiping over your dripping folds. You let out a soft cry at the contact, resting your cheek against the cool wooden floor. Pride rushed through him at the rewarding sound. He hummed at the taste of you on his tongue, a sweetness had never indulged in before now drowning his taste buds. A growl grew at the back of his throat as your hips pressed back pathetically and he tightened his grasp on the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dug your nails into the crevices in the wood floor, biting down on your bottom lip to contain your desperate pleas for more. You had never felt more sexually frustrated in your life. Sure you had sex in the past, but it had always been lousy and sloppy. 

It had also always been planned. Expected. Predictable. And this was anything but. 

“I can play nice with you, little bunny,” he taunted, his tongue tracing your creamy folds with patience. He planted a gentle kiss to your clit, his pride only increasing at the sound of your breath catching in your throat. “And I want to play nice with you. Make you feel good,” he continued, his breath hot against your heat. “But if you’re not gonna behave, I’m gonna have to play dirty,” he smirked, flicking his tongue over your clit, just barely enough to stimulate you. You choked out a whine and clawed at the floor as you tried your hardest to contain your desires. Using every last ounce of your self control to not grind your hips back, to not fuck yourself on his tongue. “You don’t want me to play dirty, baby. I’ll keep you here all night, just like this. For hours and hours and hours,” he continued to taunt, his tone raspy but controlled as he continued to speak slowly. He let his fingers replace his tongue for a moment, spreading your folds to admire the way your arousal drooled from your entrance. “I’ll keep you here and use this pretty pussy until I can’t fill it any more. Even when you’re so full, and my cum is oozing outta you-“ he paused, painting the visual out in his head. He didn’t think it was possible for his dick to get harder than it already was, but the image of you, defeated and squirming, knees wobbling, barely able to hold yourself up as his cum spilled out of you; It was all more than enough to make his cock stiffen even more. “I’ll keep you here just to watch you. There’s no escaping from me, little one. Now, are you going to behave?” 

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his finger slipping through your drenched folds, circling your entrance slowly. “Y-Yes,” you breathed out. “I’ll be good, I’ll behave-“

That was all it took for him to plunge his finger into your dripping heat. Surprisingly, he was the one to let out a groan. “So fuckin’ tight. Fuck, I knew you’d be tight-“ he grunted. In a slow motion, he retracted his digit from your entrance, watching with a predatory glare in his eyes as the light reflected from the arousal that coated his finger. A string of your wetness was all that connected his finger with your pussy, even as he brought his finger to his lips, licking it clean. “You ever been touched like this before?”

“Y-Yes,” you choked out. It wasn’t a lie, you had been touched like this before, but never in the same way he was doing it. The men you had been with were careless, rough, impatient, needy. Matt was the opposite. Despite knowing his brothers could come back from their relaxing day out on the lake at any moment, he was patient. He was slow, attentive to every sound and movement you made. He was gentle, his focus solely on making sure you were enjoying it, especially under the circumstances you were in. 

Well, at least until he heard you say that. 

“Really?” He tested. “Enlighten me, baby. Who else made you feel this good?” 

You swallowed. Suddenly you felt nervous...shy...embarrassed. Nobody had ever made you feel this good before, not even close. But the last thing you wanted to do was feed his ego even more than it already was. He spent the last six years making you feel like shit, and now here he was between your legs, his fingers tracing softly over your clit again in gut-wrenchingly slow circles. You didn’t even need to see him to know he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now, knowing that you were trapped, helpless, and enjoying it. “F-Fuck you,” you growled under your breath, biting at your lip as his fingers slipped between your slick folds again. 

“Yeah? You might if you watch that pretty mouth of yours.” He watched intently as his fingers disappeared inside of you. “I asked you a question. Who else made you feel this good?” He asked again, his voice deep and demanding, a hint of a threat in his tone. You squirmed around, jaw going slack as his fingers sunk deeper into you. His free hand came down harshly onto your ass, eliciting a soft squeak from you in surprise. “One more chance, baby.”

“N-No one,” you huffed in defeat, though your tone changed almost instantly as he started pumping his fingers at a steady pace. “Just you.”

“So smart,” Matt praised. “Say my name this time, sweet girl. Who makes you feel this good?” Sweat glistened on his brow. His lips pursed, a breath of cold air over your sensitive bud making your thighs clench together. The sight pulled an amused sound from deep in his chest. “Try again.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue over your clit in slow, controlled strokes. 

“F-Fuck, please Matt! Y-You, Matt! Only you! Please just-” you blabbered, frustrated tears glistening in your eyes. “Do something! P-Please! Do anything!” You pleaded.

“...Anything?” He smirked, kissing your soaked heat. “Any ideas in mind, little one?” 

Matt pulled down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, allowing his painfully erect cock to spring free. His free hand quickly wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking his shaft a few times as he watched his fingers plunge deep inside of your pussy. He licked his lips, still tasting you on this tongue. “Words, little bunny. Use your words,” he rasped. Matt almost wanted you to kick him, to knock him out of this fantasy, because there was no possible way that this was real life. He had spent years dreaming of you beneath him, years full of yearning desires, years of hormonal frustration. And now here you are. All for him. 

Still kneeled between your legs, Matt straightened himself up, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty and desperate. He brought his hand down roughly onto your ass, a sharp smack ringing in the air from the contact. “Naughty little thing. Oh you’re gonna fit around my dick so nice, baby.” Matt held his cock sturdy in his grasp, rubbing his tip over your slick folds. “This what you wanted, baby?” he cooed, his free hand resting on your waist. 

The only thing you could get out was a pathetic whine. You wanted him, that was no secret, especially now. You had no way of hiding your arousal towards him, the excitement you felt as he slapped the tip of his cock against your sticky entrance. What you would’ve given to free yourself from under the bed so that you could roll over and watch him; Watching his dick glide between your dripping heat with ease, watching his face scrunch up as he thrusts into you for the first time. You lifted your head off of the cool wooden floor, wincing as you accidentally bump it against one of the planks above you. 

Matt chuckled softly. “Easy, little one. Y’know ‘m not gonna hurt you,” he hummed. He slapped his tip against your entrance again, groaning under his breath. “Come on now, princess. Need you to tell me what you want.” 

He patiently waited for a response from you. He honestly didn’t mind, he quite enjoyed teasing you for as long as he could. Matt caught his bottom lip between his teeth as the tip of his cock leaked with precum. He thrusted his hips slowly, his shaft gliding against your heat, your arousal combining with his. “M-Matt,” You whimpered, nails clawing at the floorboards once again. Your voice cracked, catching his attention almost immediately. “Please just…f-fuck me.” 

With those words, you opened the gates of heaven for him. Allowing him to have access to you, giving him the greenlight to take you right then and there. He surely didn’t need you to tell him again, though he loved the way it sounded rolling off of your tongue. Matt gave his cock a few quick strokes before positioning his tip at your gleaming entrance. His other hand remained glued to your waist, keeping you both steady as he eased himself inside of you. 

Your lips parted at the delicious feeling of his cock stretching you out. You could hear him hiss in response to your walls clenching around his shaft, but you had very little time to feel smug. Matt lost every single care in the world that he had, moaning loudly as he bottomed out. He didn’t move for a couple moments. You could feel his hands roaming over the plush of your ass and thighs, but his cock stilled inside of you. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered closed. He didn’t dare move a muscle. He had never been so intoxicated by a girl’s pussy in his life. The way you squeezed around him…Hell, if he sat here long enough he could cum just from that alone. It was an addictive feeling, he wanted more even if it killed him. He never wanted it to be over. “Atta girl, look at you taking my dick so well,” Matt grunted, letting his hips finally move, his dick slowly retracting from inside of you. 

You couldn’t bear it any longer, you needed him. He couldn’t leave you hanging again. Your hips followed his, sinking back down onto his cock. Matt watched in awe, his jaw going slack as you did just that. His mind went fuzzy as he watched your hips rock back and forth, working yourself on his cock desperately, coating his shaft in your creamy arousal. “That’s it, baby. Been such a good little thing for me, haven’t you?” His voice was thick with lust. He snapped out of his trance and used his hands to help guide your hips, another whorish groan escaping him. 

You whined in response; It was all you could manage to get out. Your mind was cloudy as his dick filled you more than you had ever felt before. His strong hands groped at your ample ass, pushing you back down onto his cock, his balls snug against your heat. He groaned again, though it was followed by a deep chuckle. “My sweet little bunny. I told you there was nowhere to run,” he smirked, holding your hips in place as his hips rocked backwards, his cock sliding out of you until only his tip remained buried in your heat. “I knew I could break that pretty little brain, princess. It’s not easy, huh? It’s so hard to think isn’t it?” Matt mumbled, his hips snapping forward to drive his dick back inside of you. It resulted in a cry falling from your lips, your pussy squeezing around him once more. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna do all that hard thinking for you. You just turn that pretty little head off, okay?” 

His hips snapped forward again, resulting in another moan slipping from your lips. The sound was like a drug to him, he wanted it injected into his veins. “Feels so good, baby. ‘S like your pussy was made just for me,'' Matt grunted, his hips moving back again. He listened to your pathetic sounds as he pulled out, his hand stroking his cock slowly. He rubbed his tip against your folds, watching as you sunk back down onto him, his tip easing back inside of you, followed by the rest of him. His eyebrows knitted together, a low groan escaping him. He brought his hand down, striking your ass again, leaving a sharp smacking sound ringing in the air. “Impatient little brat,” he hummed, giving the other cheek the same attention. Your fingernails tore at the wooden floor, your body flinching at the impact from his hand. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop moving your hips, loving the way he stretched you full with each stroke. 

Matt loved it, watching the way you fucked yourself on his dick; He didn’t even have to move. Amused by your desperation, he cocked his head a little and continued to watch your little performance. Your milky arousal now coating his shaft, his abdomen slick with your juices as you wiggle your hips each time you sink back onto him, desperate to feel more. He groaned as your walls clenched, his dick twitching at the delicious feeling. “Pretty little thing, fuckin’ yourself on my cock…God, I jus’ wanna ruin you…Wanna fuck you so hard, you can’t walk…” His filthy thoughts, now verbally spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. “Wanna make you cum all over my cock, baby. Fuck, jus’ wanna make your pretty little pussy feel good. Only me, nobody else. Wanna put my babies right in your tummy,” he growled, his hand slipping down the side of your waist, his palm pressing against your abdomen. “Gonna put my babies right here. Fuck, I jus’ know you’d make the prettiest little angels. Nobody else's, just mine. All mine.”

He wasn’t sure what had come over him. He had never felt this burning urge in him the previous times he had sex. Something in him awakened, it made his stomach knot up. He panted softly, finally giving into his temptations as he started to thrust in time with your hips, hissing as his dick buried itself impossibly deeper inside of you. “You’d make such a good little mommy, wouldn’t you? So pretty, and soft, and nice…” Matt groaned, letting his hips find a steady pace. A ring of creamy white encircled the base of his shaft, trickling down to his balls with each thrust. The room echoed with the sticky sound of his cock slipping in and out of your tight walls. 

You could hardly process the things he was saying. Every word, dirtier than the last. It became increasingly harder to think, or to respond…all you could focus on was the euphoric feeling coursing through your veins. You gasped softly as his hand slipped down from your abdomen, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bud in quick circles. You squirmed at the feeling, knees beginning to wobble once again. “It’s what you were made for, right? My little bunny…you were made to have my babies,” he growled. He picked up his pace, his thrusts remaining relentless. A string of unintelligible vowels fell from your lips as he pounded into you. The contrast between his rough thrusts and his gentle fingers circling your clit was blissful. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

Your lips parted to speak, but you couldn’t find the words. All you could think about was how he felt inside of you, how he made you feel with his gentle touches and his filthy words. He chuckled, the sound making your thighs tremble. “Dumb little thing. Come on now, you know I can’t read your mind, baby…Not that there’s much goin’ on in there right now anyways.” 

A loud moan slips from you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the sounds you were making. Matt’s eyes darkened, leaning over until his body was pressed to yours as close as he could possibly get. He reached his free hand under the bed, grasping at your arm. It didn’t take much effort for him to pin your arm behind your back. He kept his thrusts steady, burying his cock in you with each thrust. “Uh uh, I wanna hear every little sound you make. Every whimper and squeak that I fuck outta you,” he huffed. “Naughty fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to hide how bad you want your pussy to be used. I see right through you, little one.” His fingers rubbed at your clit faster, a smirk plastered on his face as you began to fall apart beneath him. 

“P-Please…c-c-cum-” you managed to sputter out. He licked his lips, his throat going dry. “C-Cumming-” you gasped, your hips spasming as he refused to slow his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Warmth pooled in your tummy, your heart pounded against your chest, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. 

“Did I say you could?” Matt teased, stopping his fingers abruptly. With a gentle firmness, Matt slapped your clit a few times, rewarding him with the sound of your desperate cries and the feeling of you squeezing around him again. “You’ve been so fuckin’ naughty, I have half a mind to leave you like this,” he growled. “Gettin’ me bricked up every fuckin’ day, bending over in those little tennis skirts, your nipples pokin’ through your shirt, biting your lip- Fuck... every time you bite your lip I wanna grab you by your fuckin’ hair an’ bite it myself.” Matt could feel his own orgasm building up. Any girl he had been with could tell you that he would start to ramble the closer he got to his release, but never like this. “Had to throw out all the fuckin’ popsicles b’cause of you, suckin' on 'em right in front of me. D’you know how many times I had to go jerk off in my room b’cause of you? How many fuckin’ times you joined our party on the game, and I’d die just so I could mute myself and beat my dick to your pretty little fuckin’ sounds. Oh god, baby… Jesus fuck, you’re a fuckin’ minx. You don’t fuckin’ deserve to cum after the fuckin’ hell you put me through,” he growled. “But fuck…I wanna feel your little pussy tighten around my cock while you cum. F-Fuck, I want you to cum, baby.” His fingers collected the juices puddling at the base of his shaft before he reached his arm back around your torso, rubbing at your clit once again. 

“Mmmph, M-Matt,” you mewled out, your head resting against the wooden floor. “P-Please, s-so close-”

“Don’t think, baby. I know it feels good, I know you wanna cum,” Matt panted, picking up his pace as he began to thrust faster, grunting softly as his hips collided with yours. “You're gonna be a good girl and let me put a baby in your tummy, isn’t that right?” Matt whispered, his tone hoarse and gruff. He continued to circle his fingers at your sensitive clit. He knew you wouldn’t last much longer, what between your desperate pleas and your trembling thighs, it was obvious that you were close to your release. “That’s what little bunnies do best, hmm? Making pretty little babies?” He gave your ass a firm squeeze, thrusting his hips even faster. 

You squirmed again beneath him, moans spilling out of your mouth. His thrusts were rough, his hands groping and touching you possessively. You couldn’t help it anymore. Your head felt like it was spinning, your entire body flooding with warmth. “F-Fuck, I-I-I-” you stammered. He moved his hand back to your waist, holding you in place firmly. His fingers rubbed at your clit faster to bring you to your release. “C-Cumming, f-fuck Matt!” 

His fingers dug into your waist, your words only encouraging him to keep going, despite the ache he was feeling in his knees from them boring into the wooden floorboards. Matt rested his head against the edge of the mattress, the sweat forming on his brow seeping into the silk sheets on the bed. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Did so fuckin’ good for me,” Matt groaned, his hips bucking forward with the desperate need to bring them both to their release. “F-Fuck, please cum on my cock. Please, please, please…Need to feel you, n-need it so bad, baby.”

In an instant, your muscles began to tense, a hoarse cry erupting from you. Your legs wobbled and shook as your orgasm washed over you, finishing with him buried deep inside of you. Matt panted, rubbing your sensitive cunt with slow gentle strokes to ride you through your high. “Atta girl, that’s it. Oh fuck-” he groaned, pumping his cock in and out of you with quick, sloppy thrusts. “God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect. Cummin’ all over my dick, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess. F-Fuck...you’re drippin’ everywhere, baby. S-So fuckin’ messy-” he rambled, grunting with every rut of his hips. His fingers slipped away from your pussy, and he brought them to his lips, sucking your release off of his fingers. He moaned at the taste, bringing his other hand to your waist as well. “Just another minute, baby- f-fuck, ‘m so close. Doing so fuckin’ good. Squeezin’ my cock nice and tight- God you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” 

With your sweaty forehead pressed against the cold floor, you forced your hips to stay up, not letting your knees give out just yet. You weren’t about to look weak in front of him. You just hoped his thrusts wouldn’t get any rougher, because you were only one wrong thrust away from collapsing completely. 

It didn’t take long for Matt to reach his orgasm, his sloppy thrusts slowing almost to a complete stop. His stomach tightened as he bucked his hips forward roughly, groaning loudly and repeating the action. It only took a few rough quick thrusts before he pulled your hips back, forcing your bodies together as close as physically possible. Heavy breaths passed his lips, along with numerous deep moans. His cock throbbed, waves of pleasure hitting him like a tsunami as his cum pumped deep inside of you. The warmth of your pussy still snug around his shaft, along with his hot cum that was beginning to ooze from your entrance where he was still buried inside of you, it made him weak in the knees. An aftershock hit him like a jolt of electricity, his hips rutting forward. “S-So fuckin’ good,” he whimpered. 

He could’ve stayed like that forever; Buried inside of you, watching a mix of his seed and your own release leaking down his shaft. He could’ve gone again, there was no doubt in his mind. He slowly and reluctantly pulled out, his hand grasping the base of his cock. He stroked his shaft, watching with a possessive, predatory gaze as his sticky white cum oozed from your entrance, slipping through your folds and over your clit before dripping onto the floor, pooling between your knees. He wanted nothing more than to bury his dick back inside of you and fuck you until he drained every last drop of cum inside of you, until he was shooting blanks and had nothing left to give. But he knew that if his knees were killing him right now, you were probably in a much more uncomfortable state. He cursed softly under his breath, tucking his cock back into his pants. Matt looked over at the nightstand, grabbing a box of tissues and pulling a few of them from the box, gently wiping the mess from between your legs. He wasn’t worried about the mess on the floor, he would clean it up after. Right now, he had bigger priorities. 

He frowned a little as he saw your legs wobbling again. He took another handful of tissues, gently cleaning you up before tending to the puddle between your knees. Once all of his mess was taken care of, Matt tossed the box of tissues to the side, throwing the wad of used ones into the nearby trash bin. You squirmed, attempting to push yourself out from under the bed. You winced as you heard the sound of the towel ripping.

“Careful- hold on, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Matt mumbled softly as he reached under the bed frame, unhooking your towel from the nail it had gotten caught on. He pulled the hem of the towel back down to cover your upper thighs, his touch lingering slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Lowering your body to the ground, you did your best to keep your breathing controlled and steady. Although you wanted to just lay there for a few moments, Matt had other plans. He used all of his strength to carefully lift the bed frame, just barely off of the ground. “Come on, let’s get you out of there,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He shifted the weight of the bed frame into one hand, using his other to gently guide you out from where you had been stuck previously. 

You didn’t want to look at him. Your stomach twisted into knots as you re-lived what just happened. Matt could tell that something was wrong, that you were avoiding his gaze for a reason, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. His brow furrowed. “Is your head okay?”

You finally looked into his eyes, reading the sincerity in them. “What?” you scoffed. 

Matt frowned a little at your tone, but he recovered quickly. “Your head…you bumped it kinda hard when you were under there. I just wanted to know if it still hurt-“

“My head is fine.” 

“Oh…okay.”

Why is he still here? Does he need an invitation to leave? You looked at him once again, and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over you. What you had done with him was wrong. He was nothing but rude to you for years, and you willingly gave him access to you and your body. You could have cursed him out, you could have fought back or screamed at him to leave the room, you could’ve asked him to help you get out, but you didn’t. “Why, Matt?” you breathed out in a defeated tone. “Why?”

He looked at you with a confused look across his face. With a furrowed brow, Matt shook his head slightly. “Wh-What are you talking about? Why what?” He moved a little closer to you, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face.

You dodge his hand, scooting back. “You know what, Matt,” you bark back. “You’ve hated me since I first came around, you glare at me and say hurtful things. You ignore me when I’m around unless you can find a way to let everyone know just how much you hate me. You refuse to do things with your brothers if I’m involved at all-“ you stopped, feeling your voice getting caught in your throat. 

Matt’s eyes widened. “Woah, woah, woah! Hate? This is news to me,” he interrupted, shaking his head again in disbelief. “I’ve never hated you, where the hell did you pull that one from?”

“Are you serious?! You interrupt me, you’re passive aggressive, you refuse to look at me or interact with me in any other circumstances, you avoid me like I’m the fucking plague, you blame me for not being able to get work done-“

Matt stayed quiet. He reached out to lift your chin. When you tried to look away again, he gently cupped your face in his hands. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked with a heavy heart. As soon as you opened your eyes to look at him, he felt like he had just been shot in the chest. “I never hated you, pretty girl. Never ever,” he whispered soothingly, the pad of his thumb gently wiping away a tear as it rolled down the curve of your cheek. 

You blinked back your tears, disgusted with the idea of looking weak in front of him. “Then why were you like that? Why did you avoid me? Why would you act like that?” You demanded an answer, one that made sense, one that didn’t make you feel sick to your stomach anymore. 

“I-I…” he started, afraid to tell you the truth after keeping it buried for so long. But as he saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your lip quivered and your body trembled, he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection. “I know how I acted was childish-“

“You think?!”

Matt sighed, though the tight feeling in his chest didn’t go away. “Just listen-“

“No, you listen. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, Matt. I’ve never made a nasty remark, I’ve never glared or scowled at you, I’ve never said anything bad about you. I’ve always greeted you, I’ve always been friendly-“

“And I can’t stand it-“ Matt interrupted you, moving his face closer to yours. He looked deep into your eyes, holding your face delicately in his palms. “I can’t stand how fucking nice you are and how perfect you are. I can’t stand how beautiful you look every goddamn day. I can’t stand it because I want it all for myself,” he admits, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m so fucking selfish, I want you all to myself. I don’t wanna fucking share with my brothers or our friends-“

“That’s such bullshit, Matt,” you scoffed. 

“I’m being for real,” he insisted, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out. “I thought if I…if I didn’t interact with you that maybe…it would all just go away. I thought…” he paused, instantly re-living every moment he had been a dick to you. The way your light would dim, the way your smile would fall and your eyes would lose their natural sparkle. The way you would go quiet and shrink back until you were overlooked, ignored, invisible. “I thought…how could a girl like you ever like someone like me…”

You stayed quiet. You weren’t really sure what to say in response to that. A moment of silence passed, and when you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to say anything else, you took it as an opening to speak. “You expect me to believe that bullshit sob story?” You growl at him. 

Matt didn’t know how to convince you. He had spent the last six years making you feel like shit, all in an unsuccessful attempt to shield his heart. “I wish I could take it back,” he spoke softly, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek in slow smooth strokes. “I wish I could do it all over again. I-I just…I would see the way you were with Chris-” he stopped for a moment as images of you and his brother rushed through his mind like an avalanche. He looked down, avoiding your gaze all together. “I wanted it to be me…but it wasn’t. And I hated that it wasn’t.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Chris was right, you really do think you’re starring in some crazy ass Netflix Original.”

Your words stung, his eyes were full of desperation and pain, something you had never seen from him before. “You’re not listening to me,” he stated, his eyes glossing over with tears. “I’ve wanted to do that for years-”

“You’ve wanted to fuck me for years?” You scoff. “How endearing.”

“What- No! I-I mean yes, but-” He stammered, running his fingers through his messy hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I’ve wanted to be with you for years…It wasn’t just about sex, I’ve wanted you since the minute I saw you,” he continued, moving closer to you again. 

“You never said anything,” you whispered, positive that if you spoke any louder your voice would waiver. “How was I supposed to know any of this? How do I even know it’s true, Matt? How do I know you’re not just fucking with my head to get whatever the fuck you want?”

Matt leaned against the side of the bed, his eyes still refusing to meet yours. He was quiet for a long moment. He swallowed anxiously. “Brown corduroy pants and a green knit sweater.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“That’s what you were wearing the first time I saw you,” he said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “I remember thinking…’God, that sweater is so fucking ugly’,” Matt relayed, a soft chuckle following close after. “It was like you heard me say that in my head, because you looked over at me and I thought my heart stopped beating…” 

Your facial expression softened upon hearing the moment from his perspective. It was all so different from how you remembered it. 

“Chris! Get back here and help!”

You and Matt shared a panicked look at the muffled shouting coming from outside. You winced as you stood up, legs aching as you walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard. Your eyes landed on Chris, and your movement must have caught his eye as he looked up to your window, a smile growing on his face. “Hey! We’re gonna have a cookout tonight! Come outside!”

“Chris, quit yelling! We have neighbors!” Nick shouted. 

You turned around, your heart racing as your eyes locked with Matt’s again. He looked up at you, his lips parted slightly. “I’ll leave-” Matt whispered, grabbing the bedpost as he hoisted himself up, being sure not to be in view of the window. “You uh…” he trailed off, running his fingers through his messy hair. 

Your brow furrowed, looking at him in confusion. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Matt bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head in response. “You just…You look pretty,” Matt said, his eyes avoiding yours as he left the room in a hurry. The sound of his footsteps began to fade as he made his way down the hallway, the stairs creaking under his feet. You stared at the door, almost expecting him to come back, to say more, but he didn’t. 

You rushed to change into something comfortable. You decided on a pair of sweatpants and a simple tube top before you quickly made your way out to the backyard. As you stood at the back door, you saw Matt and Nick setting up some lawn chairs around the stone firepit, already bickering about something stupid, you were sure. Chris chucked a couple of logs into the firepit, spraying some lighter fluid into the pit before lighting a match and tossing it in. The contents in the pit lit up with flames almost instantly, a cheeky smile forming on Chris’s face as he opened the bottle of lighter fluid again. Nick shouted, snatching the bottle away from his brother immediately. You laughed softly, reading his lips as he shouted ‘are you fucking stupid?!’ at Chris. 

Matt laughed under his breath, looking over his shoulder for a moment. As his eyes locked with yours, you tensed up, your breath catching in your throat. You were pleasantly surprised when he smiled, a bashful redness burning in his cheeks. He looked away from you quickly, but you could still see the smile on his face. 

You stepped out onto the back porch, greeting the boys’ neighbors as they started the grill up. You shared a few moments of small talk with them before heading down the porch steps, shuffling over to the boys by the firepit. Chris smiled at you, pulling you into a bear hug. You laughed, hugging him back. Matt watched, his smile faltering a little as he looked down, focusing instead on tossing handfuls of pine needles into the fire, fueling the large flames as they engulfed the debris in the confines of the stone pit. 

Nick had noticed the strange behavior on Matt’s part, and he had been suspicious from the moment Matt happily emerged from the house, smiling and offering to help his brothers. But Nick’s suspicions only grew upon seeing you. He stood up, wiping the dirt from his hands onto his swim trunks. “Hey, feeling a little better?” Nick asked you. 

You smiled, nodding your head. “Yeah.”

“Shower pressure’s pretty nice for an older house,” Chris chuckled. 

“Yeah…It was nice, for sure,” you laughed as well, going along with Chris’s statement. 

Nick raised an eyebrow at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded again. 

Nick started to walk towards the house, stopping as he stood beside you, leaning down so that his lips were only inches away from your ear. “Your hair is dry,” he stated before walking towards the porch steps.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: Oh my, what is going to happen in part 2?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: @flowerxbunnie @megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @sturniolofan4lifee @oversturn @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @sturnsforlife @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovelybrokenheal @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽