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#I found you~ sign a mysterious face
sturnioz · 8 days
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‘THIS IS (NOT) EASY’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
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pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, fluff, angst
word count. 13.7k
❝being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as i thought it would be...❞
content warnings. friends with benefits au, crack humour, explicit content, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, squirting, p in v, unprotected sex (creampies), big dick matt, doggy position, alcohol consumption and mentions of weed, flirty!chris,
—authors note. i've actually written this before but for a different person on another blog. so if you happen to stumble across that somehow and notice the similarities, its me lol. i just liked the plot so much and i wanted to use it for matt.
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“Wait, you what?!”
You gasp out loud, not caring about the loudness of your tone, voice piercing throughout the library alongside the squeaking legs of your chair across the wooden flooring as you abruptly straight up in your seat. 
Other students with their heads shoved in books and laptop screens peek over in curiosity while one irritated classmate leans over the table to shush you angrily, warning you about the volume of your voice but you pay them no mind, gaze fixed on Matt who sits across from you sheepishly.
Matthew Sturniolo—one of the heartthrobs on campus, the quiet and mysterious type that turns curious heads, and undoubtedly the kindest guy in class has been your best friend for the past few years. You met during a practice hockey game where fourteen-year-old Matt had tried to score a goal to impress his brothers and newfound friends, only for the hockey puck to come flying over the glass barrier, hurling straight towards your face and leaving you with a swollen eyeball and a busted up nose.
Matt was unbelievably apologetic, going to extreme lengths by buying candies and ripping up flowers from potted plants to give to you whenever you both crossed paths, begging for your forgiveness over and over again desperately until you socked him in the face, giving him a hefty nosebleed and a bruised cheek in return. 
A toothy grin spread across your cheeks and you finally had accepted the gifts out of his hands, a happy ‘now we’re even!’ leaving your lips as you had ripped open the candies, offering him a treat, offering him your friendship.
The two of you became inseparable and if someone saw one of you, they knew that the other would be trailing along behind them. You were two peas in a pod—the dynamic duo. You were so joined at the hip that when you both enrolled for college, you tried signing up for a dorm on campus, wanting and hoping to be roommates. 
It didn’t happen.
Matt ended up rooming with one of his friends, Tyler, while you got stuck with some girl you didn’t even know but had become acquainted with over a short period of time. 
Still, you and Matt never strayed far from each other even with your roommates in the picture. He sleeps over at your place every now and then, and vice versa. You’re certain that he’s even claimed a whole drawer in your dresser, filled with his spare shirts, sweatpants and underwear.
A lot of your mutual friends, including his brothers, found it suspicious how you two could be so close without anything going on between you both, complaining how the two of you can’t be just friends. It was partially the truth.
You are not just friends, you’re best friends.
“I’m just saying, that you’re complaining about not hooking up with someone for a few days while I haven’t slept with someone for, like, a month,” Matt repeats to you with flushed cheeks, adjusting the black cap on his head with one hand while the other skilfully twirls a pen around his fingers, “Times are hard, kid. I got assignments up to my ass—”
“There’s no way you haven’t hooked up with someone lately,” You hiss through gritted teeth, refusing to believe a word that comes out of his mouth when he’s talking about such nonsense. 
A nearby student from the table next to yours shifts around in their seat in annoyance to look at you, pressing their finger aggressively against their lips to tell you to quiet down and you scoff in response, throwing them the middle finger with your own irritancy and annoyance.
“Can you not?” Matt scolds as his hand firmly wraps around your own, squeezing in warning as he guides it back down to the table. He offers an apologetic smile to the student, and as always, it works like a charm as they shyly smile back and resume their work. Another scoff leaves your lips and Matt turns his attention back to you. “I’m telling you the truth, you know.”
“Bullshit,” You murmur, sending him a glare. “That girl from my study group was over at your dorm last weekend—I saw her Snapchat stories.”
“Dude, we’re both in the same study group. She came over for some of my notes and ended up staying longer because Tyler offered her an ounce of his ‘premium weed’,” Matt explains, adding a sarcastic emphasis around the word ‘premium weed’ which has you snorting, knowing that there was nothing premium about Tyler’s stash. “She eventually ended up staying over and hooking up with Chris anyways.”
Your face contorts into a look of confusion at that, “What? Chris? He isn’t even your roommate.”
“I know. Tyler’s sheets are still in the dryer,” Matt grimaces. “But Nick has had this ‘sex-free’ policy on his and Chris’ dorm ever since that guy screwed him over last weekend.” 
“Oh…” You pause, amused at Nick’s new policy, but then the realisation finally hits you. “So that’s why Tyler didn’t have any sheets on his bed when I came over on Monday.”
“Y—wait, you came over Monday?” Matt snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as he jabs his pen in your direction. “Did you fuck in my bed?!”
“No. Of course not,” You gasp, deeply offended by his accusation and Matt lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing his shoulders as he leans back into his chair. “We actually fucked on the couch—”
“Are you fucking kidding me—”
“That’s besides the point!” You cut him off before he can grill you, silencing him by raising your hand in front of his face when he tries to retaliate again. “The fact remains, Matt, is that you haven’t fucked anyone in a whole month. And that’s like… I don’t know, it’s like blasphemy!”
Matt deadpans, his expression devoid of amusement. “I’m pretty sure that’s not blasphemy.”
“Whatever. You know what I mean,” You dismiss, shoving your books and pens as far away from you as you possibly could, no longer interested in studying the endless amount of words on that page now that you’ve discovered your best friend hasn't hooked up with anyone in so long. You sit comfortably in your chair as you fully give him your attention, tucking your legs beneath you. “I can’t believe it…”
“You’re telling me,” Matt huffs, deciding to set aside his own studies too. He rubs his face in frustration, groaning beneath his palms. You console him with a frown, reaching out to rub his shoulder in sympathy. Matt’s hands drop to his lap, and he shoots you a glare, “I can’t believe you didn’t believe me. Why would I lie about something like that?!”
You’re quick to defend yourself, “You fuck more than I do. Of course I'm not gonna believe a word you say when you tell me something like that!” 
And it’s true, Matt does have a higher number of sexual encounters compared to you. His boyish charm and adorable face doesn’t hide the fact that his body count is probably in the twenties, and that his online bank statements are likely to reveal the frequent purchases of packs of condoms (and maybe a few Plan B pills for extra precaution). Matt has always been cautious and responsible, which doesn’t surprise you. He’s not one to take unnecessary risks or potentially impregnate someone, especially a stranger.
“You didn’t have to say it out loud like that…” Matt mutters under his breath, cheeks dusting a slight shade of pink as another student turns around in their seat to glare at the pair of you, but her eyes widen comically as she sees Matt. Shyly, she tucks her hair behind her ears with a kind smile that Matt reciprocates. You lean back in your seat with a roll of your eyes just as Matt brings his attention back to you, “Are we done with this conversation? I’d rather talk about something more interesting than my nonexistent sex life.”
“Fine,” You relent. “Are you going to Nate’s later?”
“No, kid’s got some important hockey meeting or something, so we’re hanging another time,” Matt sighs softly, removing his cap to run his fingers through his hair before readjusting it. “Would you be cool if I came over yours?”
“Sure,” You grin, already shoving your belongings into your bag, eager to leave the library as soon as possible. Matt’s lip curls up in amusement as he follows in suit, packing his own things into his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 
As you glance over, you notice the girl still staring at Matt and a mischievous smirk forms on your face as you slam your hand on the desk in front of her, capturing her attention.
You jab your thumb in Matt’s direction and you teasingly offer, “If you want his number. I can give it to you. He’s been stuck in a dry spell recently, so—”
Before you can finish your sentence, Matt’s fingers curl around your elbow, yanking you away from the bewildered girl with a huff, “Move.”
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“I’ve been thinking about something…” You break the comfortable silence between you both after a few hours of binge-watching a series and indulging in takeout, dropping your pizza crust into the cardboard box and pushing it aside. Matt sits beside you on the couch, his own pizza in hand, gaze fixed on the TV screen, listening to what the characters are saying.
Matt glances at you with a quick, pointed look as he chews, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Wow. Funny.” You deadpan with a roll of your eyes and he chuckles under his breath, turning his attention back to the TV screen. “Anyway, and hear me out before you say some dumb shit. I’ve been thinking about something that relates to that little problem we both have, and I may have come up with a way to fix it.”
“Why are you still hung up on this?” Matt complains between mouthfuls. “I don’t want to be constantly reminded that I’m not having sex—”
You quickly raise your hand to hush him and he goes cross eyed to stare at your palm in confusion. “I said hear me out.”
“Fine.”
“Great!“ You exclaim with a grin, “Okay, so, you and I are the best of friends, right? We always help each other out and—”
“Where is this going?”
“Hear. Me. Out.” You warn once more, emphasising each word. Matt sighs, nodding his head for you to continue. “We always help each other out, correct? And there’s no awkwardness between us, which is what also makes us so close. Remember that time we had to make out in front of Jeremy so he would stop hitting on me? And that time I pretended to be your girlfriend so Gracie would get the hint that you didn’t want to sleep with her anymore?”
“Well, yeah, but that didn’t exactly work out because we ended up hooking up with them a few days after it happened—”
“That’s not the point,” You say as you frustratingly rub at your temples. “The point is that we always help each other, no matter what the situation is, because we’re best friends. So, as best friends, I think we should help each other out with our little situation.”
“And how can we help each other out?”
“By fucking each other.”
The second those words leave your mouth, Matt chokes on his food, banging his fist against his chest as he coughs, his eyes watering and face turning red. The sight of his reaction has you cackling, wishing you had your phone nearby to take a picture.
After a few moments, Matt manages to regain his breath, reaching down to grab his bottle of water from the side of the couch and gulping it down almost immediately.
You click your tongue against your teeth, a playful smirk on your face. “That was a little dramatic.”
“And you’re crazy,” Matt shoots back, water droplets trickling down his chin as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Do you realise what you just said?”
You nod your head, “Perfectly.”
“We are not fucking. It’ll be weird,” Matt says, you instantly find offence to that, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Matt rolls his eyes at your reaction. “We’re best friends. Best friends don’t do that type of shit—Stop looking at me like that!”
You huff, turning your head away from him childishly. “I’m just trying to help us out. I don’t think it’ll be weird… people have done weirder.”
“Are you aware of how many friendships have been ruined because they fucked?” Matt questions you and you take a moment to ponder, wincing as you can easily name a few from the top of your head. “Exactly. As much as I find you attractive, I’m not going to ruin our friendship. We’ve been best friends for too long.”
Your head slowly turns back to Matt, who’s already looking at you. A grin spreads across your face as you flirtatiously bat your eyelashes at him, “You think I’m attractive?”
“My god, you’ve un-fucking-believable, I swear…” Matt trails off, muttering under his breath as he rubs at his forehead in frustration. You beam at the thought of getting under his skin, but eventually you roll your eyes and reach over to press your foot into his side, playfully nudging him to bring his attention back to you. 
Matt looks over at you with a deadpan expression and you continue to grin at him, tilting your head to the side as you admire the view.
Truthfully, you’ve always found Matt attractive even if it was in a friendly way and you’d be lying if you said that hooking up with him has never crossed your mind, but that’s mainly because you’re nosy and want to see what all the fuss is about when you constantly hear the girls fawn about what he’s like in bed.
Some say he’s extremely giving, tending to their needs in all ways possible. Some also say he’s demanding and rough, one hand curled into their hair as he’s fucking them from behind, spitting out degrading words into their ears. But you’ve also heard that he sometimes comes across as needy and desperate, begging for his cock to be sucked and to be made a mess out of.
It piques your interest a lot… maybe it’s wrong of you to think that way about someone you know so well, but you’re human after all, sometimes you can’t help the way you think about certain people.
“Look,” You speak up first, letting out a sigh. “What I said was just a suggestion, okay? If you don’t want to do it, then that’s fine—”
“How do you know that it won’t ruin our friendship?” Matt cuts you off and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the question. “We’ve been best friends for, like, six years or something right? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to throw that all away because we messed up and decided to fuck each other just because we’re ‘sex deprived’.”
“We’re not going to get into anything super serious,” You reassure him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Sure, we’re probably going to end up in some type of friends with benefits situation, but we’re not going to include any of that official or exclusive title bullshit. We just hook up for a release when we can’t find it anywhere else, it’s as simple as that. No complications.”
“So…” Matt purses his lips in deep thought. “We can still fuck other people?”
You scoff, “Of course. You think I’d drop Tyler for you that easily?”
“Fuck you.”
Your lips curl into a smirk, “I’m hoping you would.”
Matt stares at you for a brief moment before chuckling, shaking his head as his tongue prods at his cheek. The little action spurs something within you but you remain seated, wanting Matt to be the one to make the first move if he was game in fucking you to help relieve the stress you’re both feeling… maybe Matt a little more considering that you fucked Tyler a few days prior, but you were desperate to be filled again. 
You watch Matt sit in silence for a moment, seemingly deep in his thoughts as his eyebrows knit together, thinking about the pros and cons. His hands come up to pull the cap off of his head completely, his hair messily falling in front of his eyes and your thighs press together as the thought of seeing it between your legs with your fingers threading through the locks. 
You internally laugh at how deluded you sound.
“What time does your roommate get back tonight?” Matt questions you, his low tone bringing you out of your own thoughts and your body buzzes with excitement, fumbling as you reach over to snag your phone off the coffee table to check the time, informing him that she won’t be home for another three hours. “Alright. Good to know.”
“So?” You press, dropping your phone back down as you look at him expectedly. “What’s it going to be?”
Matt takes a deep breath, “No titles.”
“None at all.”
“We can still fuck whoever we want.”
“Whoever, whenever.”
“And most importantly…” Matt pauses with a deep sigh, leaning over the couch closer to you and he holds up his hand, his pinkie outstretched. “We’re still best friends.”
“It’ll be like nothing ever changed.” You promise softly with a smile, curling your pinky finger around his own, squeezing it tightly to keep your promise.
It’s silent between you both for a while, and you can clearly see the cogs turning inside Matt’s head as he thinks about his next move, yet you’re the one that decides to take that initiative.
You rip your hand away from his to throw your arms around his shoulders, fingers buried into his locks as you drag him towards you to eagerly plant your lips on his. You’re surprised at how fast Matt responds to the kiss as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
The plenty drunken kisses you’ve shared with Matt to help each other out of sticky situations is nothing like the kiss you’re experiencing right now, and it catches you extremely off guard. You were expecting him to allow you to take control of what was happening and lead him through it considering you were the one to bring it up, but with the way Matt’s pushing you backwards to lay you down on the couch and crawling between your open legs with his lips still attached to yours, you’re stumped. 
“Wait,” You stop him, pressing your palm against his chest to push him back and Matt moves away with raw, wet lips, his fingers hovering above the waistband of your shorts. “Why are we doing this on the couch? I have a bed we can use.”
Matt glares down at you, “That didn’t stop you and Tyler from fucking on my couch.”
“Actually, there were no sheets on Tyler’s bed, so—”
“Think of this as payback,” Matt smiles at you sweetly and you snarl, knocking your leg against his side with force and he laughs through clenched teeth, “Besides, you’ve probably fucked a lot of people on this couch… Do you really care?”
You blink up at him. “Are you implying that I’m a slut?”
Matt shrugs, “Maybe, yeah.”
“That’s so hot of you.”
Matt chuckles and leans down to reconnect your lips, fingers unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your underwear, carelessly throwing them somewhere to the side and you hiss at the cold air that hits, yearning for warmth.
Matt’s lips trail down your throat and to the collar of your shirt, nipping and sucking at your skin, heading south to where your thighs shake in anticipation. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you watch him shuffling down to lay between your legs, hands pushing against your knees to spread you further apart, the coldness of his rings prickling at your skin.
Your own hand reaches down to thread your fingers through his hair, trying to tug him closer but he barely budges, gazing up at you with his brows knit together.
You whine, “Hurry.”
“Are you always this impatient?”
“Of course,” You look at him like he’s stupid. “We’re both doing this for a reason and it’s to cum, not to take our sweet little time and—Oh shit…”
“Fucking yapping. You talk too much.” Matt drags his tongue through your folds, the pink muscle swirling over your clit and your body jerks in shock at the sensation, a gasp fleeting past your lips as your grip on his hair tightens, feeling his tongue wiggle between your folds and licking upwards to flick over your clit before his fingers tease at your entrance.
Your body goes slack against the couch cushions, mouth stuck open as he eases two digits inside the warmth of your pussy, curling his fingers upwards as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit and you whine, tugging at his hair a little harder which causes him to groan, the vibrations causing goosebumps to shoot up your spine.
You’re in shock at how well Matt actually uses his tongue and fingers. Of course you’ve heard stories from your girl friends and even Matt himself, but you didn’t expect him to be this good and it completely catches you off track, unable to control the noises that rip from the back of your throat when he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt while using his tongue to work wonders on your clit.
“Matt,” You whisper his name with a moan, thighs twitching and closing in around his head. You feel him smirk against your pussy and you squeeze your thighs in warning. “Stop it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?” He asks, his tone a little condescending as he raises his head, mouth glistening with your arousal. His fingers continue hitting that spot that has your toes curling and back arching against the cushions. “You can cum, if you want.”
“You’re so fucking cocky,” You tut, fighting the urge to smile but you amusement ends up slipping away and is overcome b y pleasure as he pumps his fingers a few more times, the tightening band in your stomach snapping as you cum all over his fingers, gasping through high pitched whines and trying to control the convulsing movement of your body.
“That’s it,” Matt hums, pressing a quick kiss to your pussy. “Good job.”
You choke out your words, unable to come up with a full sentence as your hand falls limp onto his shoulder, fingers twitching over the material as you breathe heavily. “What the fuck was that?!”
“Me eating you out,” He answers matter-of-factly, a hint of smugness in his tone as he pops his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean. Your mouth drops in shock at the action and he meets your gaze, “You good?”
“Yeah… good.” You nod dumbly, completely astonished at how nonchalant Matt is acting as you watch him tug his sweatpants and boxers down his legs awkwardly when he sits up, eyes automatically zoning in on his cock that slaps against his stomach once freed from its confinements. 
Honestly, you have seen Matt naked. He’s comfortable with stripping in front of you and changing without any thought. But… you’ve never seen Matt hard, and the sight alone is enough to have your mouth watering.
Your best friend is huge.
“Okay,” Matt mumbles to himself, crawling forward and hooking his hands under the back of your knees to pull you closer to him, his thumbs caressing your skin. “Are you sure you’re ready? You know there’s no turning back from this, right?”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” You grin as you wiggle against him excitedly. “Give me what you got, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” Matt clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head as he slowly eases his cock into you. Slowly, your eyes start to widen at the stretch, the burn obvious in your core and thighs, and your hand flies down to his in hopes to slow down his movements despite him going as slow as he possibly can.
You try to breathe steadily through your nose, lips pressed together tightly as your wince at the uncomfortable ache that spreads, your pussy clamping down on him as if you were trying to prevent him from pushing any further.
“Ow.” You whisper, twisting your hips to try and get comfortable and relax but you wince at each movement you make, causing Matt to raise his gaze from where you’re connected to look into your eyes, his own pooling with concern.
“Are you okay?”
You hum with a curt nod of your head, “Nothing of that significant size has been up there before, you know? I’m just… feeling uncomfortable, that’s all.”
Matt’s lips curl into a grin, “You calling my dick big?”
You send him a hardened glare, “Not as big as your fucking head.”
Matt laughs loudly and he lays his hand flat across your lower stomach as he adjusts himself between your legs, head ducking down slightly to watch himself slowly push into you once more, but the second your legs tense up, he sighs apologetically and strokes your stomach, sliding his cock out of you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, looking at him with a pout.
“Give me a second, okay?” Matt orders you, gently grabbing your waist to help turn you around on all fours. The brows pinch together at the new position, but your body seems to relax when you feel his hands slide around your back and press down tightly, arching it to hold you in place as you feel his cock at your entrance once more. “This should feel better. But tell me if it hurts? I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“Just—” You grit your teeth together. “Just fuck me, Matt.”
“You got it.” Matt whispers as he pushes himself back into you again at a slower pace and you gasp, your fingers gripping the arm of the couch, head dropping low to rest on the cushions as you try to control your breathing. The new position was definitely better than the last, but you can still feel him stretch you out to fit you around his cock. “Is my dick really that big?”
“Are you asking because you’re concerned or because you want me to boost your ego?”
Matt smiles, “Maybe both.”
You don’t even get the chance to retaliate with your own snarky comment as Matt fills you up completely, hips pressing to your ass and cry out at how full you’re feeling, unable to think properly as he pulls back, leaving the tip nestled in your cunt before thrusting back in.
Matt curses loudly behind you, fingers digging into your ski as he rocks his hips into you, his thrusts sending your body jerking forwards. You squeeze around his cock and he grunts, changing his pace and you can’t help but fuck youtself back onto him, whining and panting at the pleasure that swirls in the pit of your tummy. 
The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin is enough to have your eyes rolling back in pleasure, driving you even closer to the edge along with his rapid thrusts and continuous cursing. You’re positive you can even hear him praise you a little bit, muttering about how tight your pussy is. 
You would’ve never guessed he was into such dirty talk. Matt continues to amaze you.
Your pussy clamps around his cock when you feel his hand sneak beneath your body to reach between your thighs, the pads of his fingers rubbing diligent circles on your clit and you mewl, your own hand coming down to latch around his wrist.
“Shit,” You slur your words, drool seeping past the corner of your lips. “So good—fuck, Matt, don’t stop—s’good.”
“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna stop.” Matt chuckles behind you and you can feel the tears build up in your waterline as Matt leans over your body, holding himself up with one hand on the arm of the couch, his other still rubbing circles on your clit. You gasp as how deep he’s nestled within you and it has you seeing stars, your toes curling and your body tensing up as his cock fucks into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot over and over before your second orgasm of the night hits you violently. 
Your screams are muffled by the cushions, walls pulsating around his cock as you cum, struggling to hold up your own weight as your body falls limp on the couch. Pleasure buzzes through your veins and it sends you mind whirling as Matt fucks you through it to reach his own high, moving his hand from your clit to rest on your lower back, arching your ass up to fuck you deeper.
“Where do you want me to cum?” He pants heavily, thumb stroking the bottom of your spine. “Fuck—tell me where I can cum.”
“Anywhere you want.” You slur your words, craning your head to the side to look at him, capturing how his eyes widen slightly.
“Anywhere?” Matt repeats as he slows down his movements and you nod your head, only to yelp in shock when he pulls out of you completely and flips your body around once more. You stare at him in surprise as he crawls up your body, resting a hand on your cheek and pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. “Here?”
You don’t give him a verbal answer, instead you open wide, welcoming him and Matt grins, pushing the head of his cock into your mouth and sighing as your lips close around him, suckling on his tip as he cums in long spurts down your throat, brows knitting together in pleasure and moaning softly as your tongue presses against his slit, swallowing everything he gives you. 
There’s a comfortable silence as Matt removes himself from above you, choosing to drop down in the limited space between your body and the couch, running his fingers through his sweaty hair as he tries to catch his breath.
It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened, staring between Matt’s naked lower half and yours before you abruptly sit up, rolling onto your knees that pop as you stare down at him incredulously. 
“Matt!” You screech, punching his shoulder with such force that has him wincing. 
“Ow!” He hisses, rubbing the area. “Why—”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were that good?” You immediately cut him off, not allowing him to finish as you shake your head quickly. “We should’ve done this ages ago!”
Matt rolls his eyes in annoyance despite the grin that spreads across his cheeks as he throws his arm over his face, “Shut up.”
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“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Nick pauses to chew and swallow his sandwich, pointing between you and Matt on the opposite side of the table. “You two decided to hook up last night because neither of you have hooked up with anyone in a long time, and now you’ve made some sort of deal that when you can’t find release somewhere else, you’ll go to each other?”
“Yeah.”
“What the actual fuck?!” Nick exclaims, looking at you both as if you’ve grown an extra head before abruptly turning to Chris and Tyler who are sitting beside each other silently, watching everything unfold. “Why are you guys saying anything?!”
“I don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Chris shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before he turns his attention to you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Although, I am kind of offended you didn’t ask me to fuck you.”
You grimace, “It makes me queasy thinking about where your dick has been, if I’m honest.”
“When was the last time you got tested?” Matt teases his younger triplet, a slight smirk curling at the ends of his lips as he leans back into his chair, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he manspreads. Chris rolls his eyes and retaliates by throwing him the middle finger.
“And you’re okay with this?” Nick questions Tyler who slowly nods his head as he rolls a blunt beneath the table, lips pursed in concentration. 
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tyler questions back, lifting his gaze to Nick and raising a brow before looking back down to his lap. “We just fuck, that’s it. And besides, sometimes I get so faded that I can’t even get my dick up. She needs good dick and I can’t give it to her when I’m that out of it.”
You gasp in awe, reaching across the table to grip his arm. “You are so thoughtful!”
“So I’m the only sane fucking person that thinks this is a stupid idea?” Nick shakes his head in disbelief, biting into his sandwich with a deep sigh. His eyes suddenly widen, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth as he erratically pats his pockets. “Where’s Nate? Somebody text Nate right now.”
“Please, you know damn well Nate isn’t going to give a shit,” Chris cackles with a grin, adjusting the beanie on his head. “Pretty sure he fucked his girl best friend last year.”
“Yeah? And where is she now?” Nick looks at all of you expectedly for an answer and you frown, sinking into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest. “Exactly.”
“Come on, kid, it’s not like that…” Matt tries to explain. “We talked about it. We’re not doing any of that exclusive or official title stuff. We’re not making it weird.”
“Meaning we can still hook up with whoever we want.” You add on, eyes flickering over to Tyler and you give him a pretty smile, only for him to look back at you with a smirk and give you a flirtatious wink.
“So, what I’m hearing is,” Chris pauses, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he bats his eyelashes at you. “There’s still a chance for me?”
Nick immediately plugs his ears as he repeatedly mumbles, “I don’t not want to hear this. Stop it immediately. I hate it.”
“Hate what?” Nate’s voice interrupts from behind and you whiz around in your seat, grinning widely as you see Nate approaching your table with his hockey jersey in one hand and his books in the other. 
He greets you all with a smile, placing his belongings down on the table before grabbing an empty chair from another, the metal legs scraping across the floor as he drags it to place beside Matt, slapping his hand down on Matt’s shoulder in greeting as he sits down. 
“What are you talking about anyway?”
“They hooked up,” Nick immediately jumps straight into it as he points at the two of you and you sigh, throwing your head back in frustration. Matt laughs beside you. “And they’re going to continue to hook up whenever they don’t have anyone else to go to, so—”
“Oh, nice man.”
Nick stares at Nate, “No. Not nice. Not nice at all,” Nick shakes his head. “You’re all helpless. Dumb and helpless, every single one of you.”
Nate pulls a face, “I mean, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be—”
“That’s what I said~” Chris sings.
“And besides, they’re grown adults. They can do whatever they want.” Nate’s words make your brows raise with little surprise, watching as he flips open his book and grabs the pen that rests behind his ear, biting the cap off with his teeth before looking at you. “I’m surprised it took you both this look to actually hook-up… I thought it would’ve happened months ago.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just means I thought you two would’ve fucked months ago.” Nate smiles and shrugs his shoulders innocently, blowing the cap out of his mouth and watching it with his hand before he begins to scribble on the pages. You roll your eyes, glancing over at Matt who shrugs his own shoulders, not fully understanding the meaning of Nate’s words but chooses not to dwell on it any longer as he reaches for his drink, sipping through the straw as he gives his attention to Chris who angles his phone in his direction to show him something you could barely see. 
Nick shakes his head, still in disbelief as he shoves the last remaining bite of his sandwich into his mouth before grabbing his book out of his backpack to take notes alongside Nate. He then comically raises his head up to point his pen at you and Matt.
“Also, just to let you know, I don’t want to hear any complaining from either of you when this whole situationship bullshit ends up going to literal shit,” Nick warns before he slowly turns to the pen to point to himself, “Because I will laugh in your face and simply say, ‘I told you so’.”
A scoff leaves your lips as Matt speaks, “Relax, kid. Everything is going to be fine. Plus, this whole thing could just be a one time thing… It might not even happen again,” Matt turns to look at you. “Right?”
A smile finds its way onto your face as you lean your elbows on the table, chin resting on the palm of your hand as you give him an affirmative nod. “Right.”
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“Fuck, Matt.” You moan out his name repeatedly, back arching off your bed, gripping the pillows resting behind your head with your mouth wide open. Matt’s fingers pump in and out of your pussy, squirting over his hand and splashing onto the bed sheets below you. 
He laughs as you shove your face into the crook of your arm, body trembling and breathing whines slipping past your lips from the overwhelming sensation of him fucking you with his fingers.
Your legs clamp shut around his hand but he’s already prying you back open with the other, holding them down to the bed as his fingers curl upwards, almost bringing you to tears at the pleasure in the pit of your tummy. 
“There we go…” Matt hums softly, milking you for every drop you can give. You quiver and gasp when Matt comes to a stop, the grin on his face evident as he pulls his fingers from your cunt and you whine, struggling to raise your foot and kick him in his side. He captures your ankle in his grasp, drawing circles with his fingertips. “You good?”
“You good?” You mock him, tone nasally. Your arms flop to your side as you take a deep breath, ignoring the way Matt’s laughing at you. “That was intense… I felt like I was going crazy.”
“Thank you,” Matt grins, eyes twinkling as he slips off your bed. “Your need to change your sheets though.”
“Wow. So gentlemanly of you to offer to help.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath, clicking your tongue against your teeth. You stand up from the bed and your knees buckle beneath you, causing you to panic and immediately reach out and grab onto a surface to steady yourself, throwing the middle finger up in Matt’s direction when he chuckles. 
He tells you to go shower while he takes care of the sheets and you immediately oblige, patting his arm in a quick thanks as you wobble out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, eager to clear yourself up after previous activities. 
You take longer than usual to shower, taking your time to scrub your body clean and even wash your hair, not even caring about what Matt could be doing inside your home as he waits for you, but you pause your routine when you actually begin to think about your relationship with Matt. 
It’s been almost three weeks since you started hooking up with Matt, showing up at each other's places whenever you’re in need of sex, getting it over and done with before hanging out properly, before even getting a bite to eat or binge watching a series. 
You still sleep with Tyler. You’ve even fucked Tyler and Matt on the same day. Matt doesn’t care, of course he doesn’t, and personally neither do you. But there have been a few moments where you start to recall the amount of times you had chosen Matt over Tyler… and it was a lot. 
You and Matt are supposed to fuck whenever you have no one else to go to. And yet, give the choice… you still chose Matt. 
A loud call of your name and a fist banging against the bathroom door startles you out of your thoughts, “I need to piss. Hurry up!”
“Just come in!” You yell back at him, frowning as you face the stream of water to let the soap run off your body as you mumble, “It’s not like you haven’t barged in before.”
You hear the door creak open behind the shower curtain and you poke your head around just in time for Matt to unzip his pants to relieve himself, his head tilting back with a sigh of relief. 
His eyes meet yours when he turns his head and his brows knit together, giving you an odd look. “What?”
“Can I ask you a question?” He blinks before giving you a quick nod. “Are you still fucking other people?”
“Yeah,” That answer relieves you a bit. “I was with Sadie last weekend.”
“I have another question.”
“Why are you—”
“I’m asking the questions,” You cut him off and Matt laughs, nodding for you to continue as he zips up his pants and washes his hands. “Has Sadie, or any other girl, been available on the same day that I’ve been available? Or asked you to come over?”
“Uh…” Matt ponders for a moment, bottom lip poking out his deep thought as he dries his hands on a towel. “Yeah, I think so.”
“And who did you end up choosing?”
“You.”
It shocks you at how fast he answers your question and you grip the shower curtain for support, the slippery floor of the shower almost making you tumblr. He chose you too… is that wrong? You’re uncertain and it makes you feel a little uneasy. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation to why you choose each other instead of fucking other available people.
“Why are you asking me that anyway?”
“Curious,” You answer quickly as you close the curtain to block him out and continue showering, ignoring the way he’s mumbling under his breath how strange you are. “Wait. I have another question.”
“Ask me when you’re down showering.”
“Why?” The tone of your voice turns sultry as you smirk, “Is knowing I’m naked behind this shower curtain turning you on?”
Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, his arm shoots out from behind the curtain, hand curling around the faucet tap to turn the temperature of the water, laughing like a maniac as he hears you scream from the cold water that splashes your skin.
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You hated birthdays.
Actually, you hated your birthday. 
You hated knowing you’re getting older each year, desperately wanting to go back to the ages where all you worried about was not making a fool of yourself in front of someone you had a crush on, or not knowing the biggest high school gossip about who was seeing who behind whoever’s back.
Now, at your growing age, all you worry about is failing college and not being able to get a good enough job to provide a future for yourself.
You wish nobody knew it was your birthday, but having such a close group of groups who knew you better than you knew yourself, it wasn’t going to be easy, and you almost spun around and darted out of campus when you saw Chris twirling a gift bag in hand with helium balloons that spelt out ‘birthday girl!’ in big, bold letters tied to his wrist. 
“There she is!”
You wanted the ground to swallow you up.
“Happy birthday!” Chris yells loudly when you reach their circle, letting your backpack drop to the grass beside Tyler who looks up at you with a dopey smile. Chris shoves the gift bag into your hands when you finally sit down, huffing at the weight of the bag. “I bought you something.”
“I told him not to, I promise,” Nick tells you as he applies chapstick before he leans in close, “But as always, Chris doesn’t fucking listen.”
“And I never will,” Chris grins, untying the strip of balloons from around his wrist to tie them around your own, ignoring the dark glare you give him as he smiles at you cheekily. “Look inside. It’s all the essentials you need.”
“I swear to god, if you—”
“Shh,” He pressed his finger against your lips. “Less talking, more looking.”
You roll your eyes, swatting his finger away from your face before peering into the bag. A soft, genuine laugh leaves your lips when you first see two bottles of your favourite alcoholic beverage and a few chocolates, but you immediately cease all laughter and amusement when you see a pack of condoms and a Plan B box sandwiched between the pair. 
Tyler peeks over your shoulder to drop a pre-rolled joint and a few gummies into the bag for later, but makes a funny noise when he sees the condom pack. He dips his hand inside the bag to pull it out, throwing it back at Chris who fumbles to catch it.
“Hey—”
“She doesn’t use condoms.”
Chris gapes, slowly turning his head towards you with widened eyes. He leans forward, nose brushing against yours as he speaks, “Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”
Nick yells and covers his ears, threatening to punch his youngest sibling in the throat as Nate and Tyler snort.
“Positive,” You giggle and pat his cheek, causing him to whine and slump back into his own space in defeat. “I’m thankful for the gifts, but please… you know I hate celebrating my birthday. And were the balloons really necessary too? Did you have to make it more obvious?”
Chris frowns, tugging at the string. “But the balloons are pretty.”
“She doesn’t like balloons, kid.”
Your head whizzes around so quickly you’re positive you could hear it crack at the speed, a grin spreading across your cheeks when you see Matt standing behind you looking at your balloons in disgust. But your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see Sadie standing beside him.
You greet her with a wave and she reciprocates, wishing you a quiet happy birthday which you thank her for and motioning for them both to join you in your circle, but Sadie shakes her head with an apology, announcing that she has to be somewhere else.
You watch as she places her hand on Matt’s bicep, asking if they can meet up later but Matt shakes his head, telling her that he already has plans and her face deflates for a moment before nodding, bidding him and the rest of you a goodbye before leaving. 
Matt lets out a huff as he drops down to the grass, stretching out his legs and knocking his foot against yours, mouthing you a quick happy birthday and you smile in gratitude. 
“Sadie seems to be hanging out with you a lot recently,” Nate points out and Nick nods his head in agreement. “You like her?”
Matt shakes his head, “No. She was just asking me if I wanted to do something this weekend.”
“Are you?”
“No,” Matt mindlessly starts plucking the glass, avoiding everyone's eyes as they zone in on him. “I don’t have the time. Got some assignments to finish for my classes.”
Hearing him say that he hasn’t got the time sparks interest in you, and you begin to wonder if Matt would end up asking you for some well needed release. It excites you, especially when you realise you haven’t been under him or on top of him in a few days and you press your thighs together at the thought of possibly getting dicked down sooner rather than later. 
It’s a birthday gift, you say to yourself when you try to give an excuse to why you’re so needy to be fucked by Matt. It’s just a birthday gift… yet, you have Tyler right beside you, someone who’s easily available and someone who used to be frequent in giving you the best birthday sex of your life.
You could ask Tyler to come over tonight, but why wasn’t the question being asked? Why does it feel like you’re stopping yourself from asking something so simple and easy?
Perhaps you’re so used to sleeping around with Matt that it doesn’t even occur to you to ask someone else anymore. Tyler doesn’t seem bothered, maybe because he’s been getting his fix elsewhere too, so why does it bother you?
A quiet call of your name brings you out of your thoughts and you turn your head towards the source, gazing landing on Matt who is looking back at you with a kind smile. 
He shuffles further into the circle to get closer to you, voice dipping low. “Come home with me later? I have something for you.”
“What is it?” You instantly ask back, excitement evident in your tone. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of celebrating your birthday and receiving gifts, there was no doubt in your mind that Matt was probably one of the best people to receive gifts from, knowing he usually goes above and beyond to give you the most memorable birthday. 
You smile when you remember the three-day spa voucher he gave you last year when he and his brothers had taken you away for the weekend, it was the most breathtaking cabin you had ever been to. The sunset above the lake was still photographed in your memory, so was the midnight drive he took you on when Chris and Nick were sleeping.
The sights were beautiful, and you were grateful to have seen it with your best friend.
“You’ll find out.” Matt tells you with a smile, refusing to give you a hint of any sort as he turns his attention to Nick to engage in a conversation. You pout, shoulders slumping in defeat and Chris knocks his arm against yours, voice teasing as he whispers in your ear;
“Looks like my gifts will come in handy after all—OW!”
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“This is actually fucking ridiculous.” You giggle as you’re blindingly walking into Matt’s dorm, his hands covering your eyes to prevent you from seeing even though you’ve tried countless times to peek through the gaps between his fingers.
Matt’s chest rumbles against your back as he laughs, waiting for you to toe off your shoes at the entrance before leading you further into the room.
You have the layout completely mapped out in your head from the amount of times you’ve been at his place, already knowing that he’s leading you into the kitchen just by the cold marbling that you feel beneath your feet. 
You almost trip as Matt shoves you down onto a chair and whispers a countdown in your ears before he removes his hands from your face. Your vision is blurry for a moment and you try to adjust to your surroundings with a few blinks, jaw dropping in complete awe as the splotches begin to disperse and you see what’s presented in front of you.
“Are you kidding me?” You whisper softly in astonishment at the gifts that are laid out across the table. You spot a few of your favourite scented candles stacked on top of each other, a bottle of perfume that you were one hundred percent certain that was sitting in your wishlist on an online store you were browsing a few days prior, and a miniature bag with the logo of your favourite jewellery store. 
You feel extremely overwhelmed, the urge to cry becoming harder to keep at bay as your eyes water and string, throat tightening over how thoughtful Matt had been. 
You turn your head towards him with your bottom lip quivering and Matt snickers, pulling a party hat from god knows where and advancing closer to you.
“You asshole…” You insult jokingly, using the sleeves of your shirt to wipe at your eyes, hoping that the tears wouldn’t dare fall as Matt secures the hat on top of your head. You point to it, “Isn’t this a little cheesy?”
Matt rolls his eyes, snapping the elastic band against your chin for extra measure and you hiss at the slight sting it causes, punching his arm in retaliation but he pays no mind, smiling to himself as he turns his back to you for a moment to open the refrigerator door, pulling out a white squared box.
He balances it on the palm of his hand with ease, using his foot to kick the door shut as he makes his way back to you. 
You’re grinning widely at the thought of what could be inside the box, even though you’ve already guessed it’s a cake. Your hands rub together excitingly as Matt places it on the counter and gently slides it over to you, the box still in his grasp as it stops in front of you, drumming his fingers on the cardboard. 
Sensing your eagerness, Matt lifts the lid off of the box and the excitement on your face drops almost instantly, expressionless as you peek inside to see the miniature spongebob themed cake staring back at you.
You raise your head to see Matt already grinning at you, tongue poking at his cheek as he opens up a drawer to retrieve two plastic forks, twiddling them between his fingers.
You deadpan, “Are you sure we’re not celebrating your birthday right now?”
“Be quiet, you like spongebob just as much as I do,” Matt scoffs as he hands over one of the plastic forks and you take it with a smile. You go to cut out a piece for yourself but freeze when Matt makes a weird noise, gazing up at him in alarm. “Wait. Hold on—my god—let me take a photo first.”
You roll your eyes but happily oblige as Matt fishes his phone out of his pocket and angles it towards you. You pose, pointing to the cake with a wide smile, almost blinded by the flash when Matt takes the picture and you immediately rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of the blotches while spitting a few creative curse words that make him giggle.
He quickly takes the opportunity of you being blinded to slide beside you, holding his phone high to take a selfie and you poke out your tongue, using your free hand to cup Matt’s cheeks while he rests his on top of your head. 
Before you have the chance to complain about how hungry you are, you gasp in shock when you feel the coldness of the cake’s frosting rubbed on your cheek and the shutter of the camera goes off when Matt takes another photo, capturing you mid chaos as you dig your fingers into the side of the cake to smush a piece against his own cheek, grinning evilly as the yellow frosting covers his skin. 
“Alright, alright. I deserved that,” Matt sighs with a lighthearted laugh, making sure his phone is tucked away and out of the icing zone. “Makes a good blackmail photo though, don’t you think?”
“If that goes anywhere, I will kill you.”
“You already know that’s going on my Instagram, sweetheart.” Matt teases you and you scoff jokingly, shaking your head as you reach for the napkins that are laying conveniently at the side, trying your best to wipe away the frosting before it drops and stains your clothing. 
Matt manages to clean himself up pretty easily and decides to help you out when he notices you struggling, plucking a spare napkin from the pile and he takes a hold of your jaw, facing your towards him as he gently wipes at your cheek, careful not to rub too hard at your skin. 
You’re suddenly awkward of the close proximity and you grow silent, watching as you cleans you up diligently. The concentrated look on his face is what causes your stomach to whirl and heart bloom with warmth, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze zoned in on the area he needs to clean, tongue licking over his bottom lip.
“Matt…” You call out his name quietly to grab his attention and he pauses, staring right at you. He seems to slowly take notice of how close you both are, taking in the limited space between you both and he goes to remove his hand away from your face but stops himself short with a noise, bringing his hand back to finish the job.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Matt whispers to you once he finally wipes away the frosting from your cheeks, smiling down at you with adoration swirling in his eyes and your breathing gets caught at the back of your throat for a moment at the sudden affectionate gaze, unsure of what to say or even what to do with him looking at you the way he is.
Your hands move up to take the birthday hat off of your head, dropping it to the side carelessly as your arms curl around his shoulders, pulling him into your embrace. Matt’s arms slide around your waist, holding you close to his chest as he hugs you back, burying his face in the crevice of your neck and exhaling deeply.
“I’m so thankful,” You admit, squeezing him tight as the emotions within you struggle to be contained. “For real, Matt. I’m really grateful too… thank you for making this birthday special again.”
“It’s not over yet, you know…” Your hear him mutter in your ear and you go to pull back, to question him on what more he could possibly give to top everything else he’s down for today but he’s already bending his knees, arms falling low to lock around your thighs and throwing you over his shoulder with a huff, smacking his hand roughly against your ass as he carries your giggly self to the bedroom. 
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Friday nights will always be your favourite nights to let loose and party.
Dressing up in your prettiest outfit that makes you feel confident and sexy, decorating your body with the shiniest of jewellery you own and drinking the most intoxicated drink you could find while mingling with your friends.
Talking with your girls face to face after a week of classes had unfailingly lifted your mood, catching up with all the gossip you missed or only briefly discussed over the phone, finally adding your own two cents into situations which they eagerly agree with a nod of their heads, tapping their cups to yours before taking a sip. 
“Speaking of unusual relationships,” Sarah, one of your dearest friends, turns to look at you with a grin, “How's it going with you and Matt? Have things turned awkward yet?”
“Nope,” You shake your head, buzzing happily. “We’re fine. The whole ‘hooking up with your best friend’ culture isn’t as complicated as everyone makes it out to be. Everyone gets dramatic about it for no reason.”
Kendall lets out a heavy sigh, nursing her drink in her hand, “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t even imagine hooking up with Isaac. I mean, he’s attractive, but we’ve seen and know too much about each other to get physical on an intimate level… props to you.”
Anna shifts her gaze to you next, “Do you still fuck Tyler?”
“On occasion,” You admit. “But honestly, I’ve been so wrapped up in assignments—”
“And Matt.”
You give Sarah a smirk, “I haven’t really had the time to call up Tyler and ask him to fuck. He doesn’t mind anyways. He’s been busy smoking and selling weed for some extra cash.”
“What about Matt? Is he still fucking around?”
You pause at that, lips pursing in deep thought before you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. I haven’t asked recently if I’m honest.”
Kendall gestures over your shoulder, “Looks like you’re about to find out the answer.”
You crane your neck to follow the direction she’s pointing in, noticing Matt standing near a back wall with a drink in hand, deep in conversation with Sadie who’s smiling, locked on each word he’s speaking to her.
Feeling your eyes on him, Matt looks up to meet your gaze, raising his drink in greeting and you grin, lifting your own cup before he resumes back in conversation.
You take in his appearance with interest; a black fitted tank top paired with some loose fitted jeans and shoes you’re certain he definitely stole from Nick’s closet. The silver chain deer hangs from his neck and silver rings adorn his fingers. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he looks good.
“Take it easy with the lovey dovey eyes,” Sarah teases, nudging your shoulder to bring your attention back to her and you laugh, tipping your head back to finish the contents of your drink. “He does look good though, so I don’t blame you.”
“When was the last time you fucked Matt?” You direct your question towards Anna who shrugs her shoulders in response. 
“I don’t remember,” She smacks her lips together. “Definitely more than two months ago, that’s for sure… No disrespect to you but god, I miss his cock. How he walks around with that thing completely baffles me.”
Kendall’s eyes widened slightly, “Is Matt’s cock big?”
“Yes.”
You and Anna share a knowing smile and high give each other. You drone out the complaints Kendall makes about wanting to fuck someone with a big cock and how Isaac always sets her up with people who are both shitty in bed and lack personality, you being too focused on looking around the room to find a clear path to get more drinks and you dismiss yourself from your girls for a moment as you spot Nick and Tyler pouring vodka into each others cups.
You bound over to your favourite boys, throwing your arms around their shoulders and startling them with your presence, but Tyler hazily smiles you when he sees it’s you and presses a chaste kiss to your temple as Nick hugs you tight in greeting, offering to fill up your cup which you happily give him.
“Where have you been?” Nick asks you as Tyler takes your hand in his to twirl your around, whistling as he eyes your dress. “You look pretty.”
“Catching up with my girls because I spend way too much time with you guys,” You explain, but cheesily grin at the compliment you received on your outfit. Nick hands you your filled drink and you thank him, taking a quick sip as your eyes glance around the room, “Where’s the rest of the guys?”
“Chris is around here somewhere trying to get laid and Nate is talking to this girl he likes from his classes,” Nick informs you before he laughs. “Matt’s been talking with Sadie for the past hour—-sweet girl is trying to make her move.”
“And why aren’t you showing off your charms tonight?”
Nick’s face immediately drops, “Please. I’m done with boys. All they make me feel is absolute regret and disappointment.”
You smile in sympathy, “You’re looking at the wrong guys.”
“No,” Nick shakes his head. “They’re all the same. Everyone of them. Disgusting.”
You loop your arm around his, tugging him into your side, “What if I introduce you to this guy in my class? He’s tall… handsome… sweet…”
Nick eyes you, clearly interested in what you’re telling him and he holds his head high, “Maybe.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chris!” You greet him happily as he appears beside Tyler, staring at you all with a confused look but grins when you throw yourself into his arms to hug him tightly, swaying you both back and forth. “I thought you were trying to get laid?”
“I was,” Chris sighs as he pulls away from the hug, but keeps an arm wrapped around your middle. “But she has a boyfriend and he’s, like, scary looking and I didn’t feel like getting nightmares for life.”
You frown, patting his shoulder. “What a shame. The dry spell continues for you.”
Chris leans into your touch, batting his eyelashes prettily at you with a smirk, “You can change that for me if you want.”
Nick fake gags behind you as you smile, “In your dreams.”
Chris sighs jokingly, dropping his head low. “Guess I’ll keep on dreaming then.”
“Dreaming about what?”
The sound of Matt’s voice has you spinning around, beaming happily as your eyes meet his but it falters slightly when you notice the fake smile he’s sporting, wanting to question him and ask him what’s wrong but you bite your tongue, not wanting to bring attention to the subject, knowing it’ll make Matt uncomfortable putting him on the spot. 
You reach out and touch his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze which makes him seem to relax, using your grip on him to tug your into his side and for Chris’ arm to slip from your waist.
“Chris is saying weird ass shit about her again,” Nick fills Matt in, wafting the smoke that Tyler blows in his face teasingly when he takes a hit of his joint. “How’s Sadie?”
“Fine,” Matt replies simply, licking at his lips as he turns to you. “Do you want to get out of here? Just me and you?”
Chris immediately takes offence to that, “What about us? What are you going to do without us?!”
Matt goes to answer but Nick immediately raises his hand, silencing him. “Don’t answer that. Just don’t.”
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You’re in complete bliss with Matt holding himself above you, your back is arched, bare chest pressed to his as he nips and licks at your neck, his hips lazily grinding into yours, cock hitting deeper than he’s ever been.
The pace is slow, something that you’re not used to when it comes to Matt, but you don’t find the voice within you to complain, enjoying it a lot more than you’d admit with your fingers tangled in his hair, cries spilling from your lips with your legs hooked over his waist.
He’s grunting in the crevice of your neck with each deep thrust, one hand caressing the side of your face while the other finds a place beside your head, holding up his weight.
You’re whining from the loss of contact when he moves his head away, missing the feeling of his teeth against your skin, the slight stubble scratching your face and you look up at him pleadingly, but he’s frozen as he stares down at you, despite his hips thrusting automatically into you. 
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so pretty…” You barely hear him mumble and your heart pounds against your ribcage at the complement, body feeling more heated and warm.
“Matt—”
He cuts off your words by planting his lips on yours with the most sweetest and softest kiss he’s ever given you, and you melt into the touch, fingers untangling from his hair to cup his cheeks in your palms, gasping through the kiss as Matt's cock cock slowly pulls out of your pussy before pushing back in, sending a shrill up your spine. 
The band in your tummy tightens with each slow but powerful thrust he gives you, thighs shaking around his frame, unable to keep up with his kisses as your mouth falls open with short gasps and whines, white specks flickering in your vision as your feel yourself inching closer and closer over the edge.
“Cum,” Matt whispers, breath fanning over your face as he pants, “Do it. Cum on my cock.”
You wail as the band snaps, orgasm crashing down on you violently. Your body convulses, pussy squeezing around his cock, keeping him buried deep which has him moaning, his own hips stuttering as he cums. You feel him pulse inside you, filling you up with everything he gives.
Matt’s head slumps down on your shoulder as you try to steady your breathing, wincing as you feel him slowly move his hips back to pull his cock out of your sensitive cunt, your hand falling from his face to drop down at your pussy, gathering his cum that pools out onto your fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Matt apologises against your skin, “I’m sorry, I—shit. I should’ve asked if I could—fuck. I got too overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”
“It’s kind of cute that you’re apologising,” You admit, gently pushing him off of your body to sit upright. “But you don’t need to apologise… this isn’t the first time you came inside me, Matt.”
“I know,” Matt runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. “I usually ask...”
“Matt. It’s fine,” You reassured him, placing your palm on his bicep. “I’ll forgive you a thousand times more if you help clean me up though.”
Matt smiles and nods his head as he slips off the bed, disappearing out of the room for a moment and returning with a wet towel. He sits between your parted legs, gently cleaning up the mess, whispering apologies and apologies every time you wince when he presses down on sensitive areas, thighs closing around his hand which he carefully pries open to resume his job. 
You sit in silence, watching him, frowning at the troubled look you see on his face, not used to seeing Matt being so closed off with his feelings and emotions, especially towards you. He hasn’t been open and honest with you in the past few weeks, he hasn’t come to you and asked for your reassurance or help. 
It makes you feel a little bit defeated. 
Something is different, and you struggle to pinpoint what it is.
The questions lay on the tip of your tongue, desperate to be brought to light and asked, and even more desperate to get the answers you’ve been craving. Your relationship with Matt has changed since the proposition you’ve made about sleeping together, but he’s still your best friend.
“What’s going on?” You finally ask and Matt freezes, fingers clutching the wet towel in his grasp tightly. “And please don’t lie to me… I can tell when you’re being truthful or not—”
“What am I to you?” Matt suddenly asks and you’re a little thrown off at your question being answered with his own question. He takes his hand away completely as you blink at him, feeling confused. “Even with all this going on… what am I to you?”
“You’re my best friend?”
Matt seems to frown deeply at that, “So nothing has changed? At all? Even with us sleeping together? I’m still your best friend?”
“Wh—of course!” You’re baffled, assuming that with the way Matt is speaking about your situationship, that he is worried that you have gained some negative feelings towards him. It hurts you, and you’re eager to reassure him, to let him know that everything is okay. “Matt, you’ll always be my best friend. We promised nothing would change, right? I’m keeping that promise.”
Matt closes his eyes as his shoulders sink in defeat, “I…” He drops his head with a sigh. “I can’t do this anymore.”
You bring your knees up to your chest, “Do what?”
“This,” He gestures between the two of you. “I just… I can’t. Not anymore. I can’t continue sleeping with you.”
“Oh.” You swallow thickly, feeling something heavy weighing in your throat. “Why?”
“Things have changed,” His voice is quieter now and it makes your heart shatter at the tone. Does he hate you? “I can’t continue whatever this is and be your best friend at the same time, it has to stop. It—” Matt sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” You mutter as your chin rests on your knees, hugging your legs closer to your chest to cover your modesty. You refuse to even look at him now, finding interest in the sheets below you as your throat tightens up more, feeling sick at the thought of him hating you so much that he can’t even continue sleeping with you. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I—”
“Wait what?”
“—I’m just so sorry. Especially if I came across too forward and for putting you in such a position, I know you were so hesitant about this in the direct place.” You’re babbling now, unable to take control of yourself due to the overwhelming feeling that washed over you. “I’m so fucking sorry, Matt.”
“Wait… I don’t—”
“Can we not tell the others right now?” You raise your head to meet his eyes this time. He’s looking straight at you, confusion and disbelief swimming in his irises but you ignore it, chewing the inner skin of your cheek. “Mostly Nick. I don’t really want to hear him laugh in our faces and give us the whole ‘I told you so’ speech he threatened us with at the start.”
Matt calls out your name and extends his hand to touch you, but you’re already climbing off of the bed, searching around for your underwear and dress that was thrown across the room earlier.
You’re too embarrassed to continue on with the conversation, to ask him what exactly you did to make him grow to hate you so suddenly. Truthfully, you didn’t really want to dwell on it too much, the pain of losing someone like Matt already making your heart ache. 
You just wanted to go home—to be in the comfort of your own bed and curse yourself out, and probably cry to the point you might just forget everything that just happened. You are feeling a little teary, but you wouldn’t dare cry in front of Matt right now. 
“I’ll, uh, see you around or something,” You sniffle, shoving the heels onto your feet and casting one final look his way. “I’m sorry.”
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It’s been almost two weeks since your last encounter with Matt.
You shouldn’t be avoiding him like you are. It’s childish, you know that. But you can’t force yourself to face someone who used to be your best friend and now seemingly hates your guts.
Maybe you should’ve waited a few more minutes, to give him enough time to explain the entire situation and how he was feeling but you were selfish, you didn’t want to hear him explain in full detail what you had done to make him change his feelings towards you so negatively. 
You miss him. Of course you miss him. For years he’s been your best friend—your other half, more like. There was no you without Matt and vice versa. You weren’t exactly sure on how you could continue moving on without Matt by your side, as dramatic as it sounds… but you’ve always been a little dramatic. 
His brothers, Nate and Tyler have been blowing up your phone—-courtesy of you ignoring them too, not wanting to hear Nick rub it in your face on how the ‘friends with benefits bullshit’ you had with Matt actually did go to shit. You also didn’t want to hear the others continuously ask questions about what happened and what had changed. 
Even your roommate, someone who keeps herself out of your business and hardly ever bothers you, had cornered you one morning at breakfast, asking why you looked so glum and why the ‘shirtless and tattooed Boston fuckboy’ wasn’t joining you both anymore.
You’re not the type to let anyone know your worries, so you’re surprised when you find yourself explaining to your roommate about what happened in full detail.
She gave you an unimpressed look, calling you a little stupid for not staying behind and listening despite you letting it be known that you couldn’t bear to listen to why his feelings turned negative towards you. Your face twisted and turned, offended by her harsh words but you allowed yourself to let her talk and not interrupt even though you desperately wanted to.
“You jumped to your own conclusion,” She told you when she was collecting the dishes. “You know, for two close best friends who talk to each other every second of the day, you have some major miscommunication issues.”
So, that’s what leads you to now; you sitting alone in the living room with your phone in hand, staring down at yours and Matt’s chat with your thumb between your teeth, biting down on the skin anxiously as you try to figure out how to start a conversation, to let him know you’re ready to listen.
from you: i think we should talk….
from matt: good because im almost at your house anyway. I had to go get something.
from you: ???? u coming over
from matt: yes from matt: i was going to make you listen to me from matt: its kinda important kid. 
You snort at his message, sending a quick thumbs up emoji before throwing your phone to the side, awaiting his arrival. Your leg nervously shakes in the corner of your vision and your eyebrows knit together, placing your hand down on your knee and squeezing tight.
As if that will stop you from being nervous. 
You’re about to hear the reasoning behind why Matt's feelings had changed for you so negatively, nothing can prepare you for it. 
Just bite the bullet. Take it like a champ.
The rapid knocking on the door rips you out of your thoughts and your head slowly turns with a confused look sketched upon your features. Was that Matt? Matt never knocks—he freely walks in like it’s his own place usually, always making himself at home.
You push yourself up from the couch and make your way towards the front door, taking a peek through the peephole to see Matt’s form, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip with his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth nervously. You grow even more confused and concerned, pulling open your door to face him fully.
“Why did you knock—”
“Hate you?!” Matt suddenly cuts you off with a shout, startling you with the loudness of his tone. His eyes are wide as he stares at you, full of disbelief. “Hate you, I—fuck—how could I hate you?! I’d never hate you… god, you’re so frustrating sometimes.”
Your lips quirk upwards, “Nice to see you too?”
“I don’t hate you. At all. When I told you that things have changed, I didn’t mean anything bad by it… I pretty much meant the opposite…” Matt’s words trail off and before you can even get the chance to ask him to explain exactly what he means, air gets caught at the back of your throat and you struggle to speak as he pulls his hands from behind his back; a bag of candy in one and a handful of ripped up flowers in the other. Your heart thumps rapidly. “I’m going to tell you something and I just… I need you to listen to me.”
You barely whisper, “Okay.”
“Being in this friends with benefits relationship with you was not as easy as I thought it would be,” Matt tells you, his honesty making you pull your attention away from the gifts in his hands to meet his gaze. “We promised each other that we’re not going to involve any titles to make it complicated for us… yet here I am, standing in front of you with the same candy and flowers in my hand from when we first met, about to confess my fucking feelings to you, I’m so—”
“You’re rambling.” You cut him off, a smile creeping onto your lips.
“Yeah, of course I am,” Matt laughs at himself, shaking his head as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck before he straightens out, keeping his eyes on yours. “I fell for you. Hard. I think I sort of realised it on your birthday but I didn’t want to say anything just in case whatever I was feeling wasn’t what I thought it was… but when we were at that party and I saw you from across the room, talking with your friends, I realised how much I actually do fucking like you and that it wasn’t just my dick talking.”
You snort as you repeat, “Dick talking.”
“Shut up,” Matt smiles at you, his own laugh fleeting past his lips before he sighs, “I like you. I’m falling in love with you, and I get it if you want to reject me because of how fucking weird this whole thing turned out… but I would actually like to continue being with you, not just as a best friend but as your boyfriend.”
You’re too busy repeating his confession in your head to notice that Matt is waiting for an answer, bottom lips tucked between his teeth as he bites down nervously, visibly shaking out of excitement or fear due to the fact he just confessed his entire feelings—you weren’t sure which one was right.
The silence from you kills Matt and his face drops when you step forward to quietly take the flowers and candies out of his hands, taking a step back inside your house. His shoulders slump in defeat, taking your nonverbal response as a rejection to his proposal of him being your boyfriend.
He goes to turn around, to get the fuck off your doorstep and drive home, hoping that the intense embarrassment he feels coursing through his veins is enough to make him disappear.
But he freezes mid escape when he hears the rustling of you ripping open the pack of candies, spinning around to see you looking at him with the prettiest smile.
He watches, heart thumping wildly, stomach fluttering with nervousness and excitement as you extend your arm out, angling the bag in his direction and a grin spreads across his face, unable to control the happiness that bursts from within.
You’re giving him a treat, you’ve giving him a relationship.
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©sturnioz
964 notes · View notes
rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months
Text
kinktober: ghostface
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words: 6.3k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, f masturbation, death/killing, blood, knives, f receiving oral, attempted rape (from not rafe), noncon/dubcon, p in v sex
taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv
"why do you keep looking at your phone, y/n?" your best friend, jennifer, asks, leaning over to look at the screen but you quickly click it off, setting it face down on the table.
"it's nothing." you shake your head. "ive just been getting some texts from an unknown number."
"what do they say?" your friend asks, and then presses further when you keep your mouth tightly closed, "are they creepy?"
"a bit…" you shrug.
"do you know who it is?" 
"clearly not!" you snap, the text messages have put you on such an edge. you don't mean to lash out on your friend, but you just can't help it. "sorry." you sigh, letting your head drop into your hands, rubbing your eyes with the pads of your fingers.
"y/n…" she sighs "i can tell how worked up you are, maybe just block the number?"
"yeah, maybe." you mumble, but you know that you're lying to her. it's too intoxicating, the obsessive attention that the anonymous texter gives you.
your phone dings and you jump, quickly picking it back up. you see something unexpected: a photo of yourself, sitting across the table from your friend, clearly taken just moments before it was sent, of course by the same unknown number. your head snaps up, scanning the tables on the other side of the restaurant, but there's so many faces you recognize along with this being the most popular lunch spot for college students attending your university.
"what is it?" jennifer asks. you almost forgot she was sitting across from you, attention solely on the mysterious texter. "y/n, is it the same number?"
"no." you shake your head, giving another glance around the restaurant. "just my ex boyfriend."
--
you look beautiful tonight. you read the text, speeding up your walk. you still aren’t replying, thinking it was best to let whoever was on the other end talk themselves bored, but they’ve continued with no response over the past week, showing no sign of letting up now.
are you scared? you pause briefly and look around. there’s no one that you can see. you turn up your pace into a light jog, regretting being out at night but needing to get from your evening class back to your apartment just off campus.
it would be a shame if someone took you right now. your heart is beating faster than ever as you break out into a full sprint, eyes blurring slightly with tears until you get to your apartment door, unlocking it quickly with shaking hands. you’re not sure you could hear someone walking up behind you with how loud your breathing is.
you rush in as soon as the door is unlocked, latching it behind you and then proceeding to draw all the curtains in the house. you run upstairs to your bed, needing the comfort of being under the sheets and locked behind several doors.
sleep tight, princess.
--
“did you hear?” jennifer asks, bursting through your door the second it’s unlocked.
“hear what?” you ask, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, knowing you need to head out soon to get to class on time.
“oh my god, it’s a tragic. a girl got murdered last night on campus.” “what?” your movements halt, turning to look at the wide eyed expression on jennifers face. “who?” “i don’t know, they’re not saying yet. they found her hanging in a tree! i guess she was really bloody because whoever saw her said they couldn’t make out her face.” “ugh, that’s horrible!” you say, feeling a shiver run through your body. you were just walking alone at campus late at night.
“but there’s good news! classes are canceled for today and all evening classes are moved to online until future notice, probably until they find the killer.” you don’t know how to respond to that, but at knowing you don’t need to head to class you do feel a bit of relief, even if the emotion is quickly followed by guilt. you close and relock the door, even more cautious knowing that there is a murderer on the loose along with your mysterious texter.
you sit down on your couch, curling your knees up into your chest. “do you think it’s related to that kasia girl who got killed last year?” “i mean it has to be, right?” jennifer plops down next to you. “what are the odds of two girls being violently killed and-” “okay, stop.” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your legs to quell the chills.
--
did you hear?
you gulp receiving the text. there’s no way anyone on campus could have missed the news, it’s all that’s been circling over the past three days, and you have no doubt thats what your mysterious texter is referring to.
yes. you type back, hitting send before even realizing that you were supposed to not be communicating back.
so lucky it wasn’t you. after all, i saw you walking that night. but i didn’t choose you.
your eyes widen. what does he mean choose? did you kill that girl? you text back quickly, hesitating only a moment before sending it. 
yes. because i can’t kill you.
--
“and you say you have no idea who has been sending you these text messages, ma’am?” the man asks.
“no, they started out of nowhere, and i thought they were creepy but i didn’t think it was… if i thought it was the killer i would have brought it to you earlier.” the police detective nods, jotting down some notes. “and you give us permission to keep the phone as evidence?” “yes, god, i don’t want it.” you already jotted down your important contacts, and have plans to head right to the store after and buy a new phone, with a whole new number.
“okay miss… you do understand that if we find this to be just an elaborate prank that there will be serious punishment for wasting our time.” you sit back in your chair, shocked that the detective would even suggest that. “it’s not a prank. they’ve been texting me before the girl was even murdered, i don’t know how you expect me to have planned all that.” “hm.” the detective just hums in dismissal, setting the phone to the side of his desk. you assume he’s not even going to look into it further, but you’re glad to be rid of it.
--
“i can’t believe classes are still going on today. another body was just found last night!” jennifer says, smearing her fry in ketchup before sticking it in her mouth.
“he was found just off campus, i think that’s their reasoning.” you say, looking nervously around the university cafeteria. “not that i agree.”
“oh my god!” your other friend, stephanie, gasps, looking up from her phone. “it was scott moss!”
“the football player?” you ask, also pulling out your phone. you unlock it, still getting used to the slight differences from your old phone. you search his name, and true enough, the first article that pops up is that the second (or third? as the article questions) body to be found has been identified as scott moss. the first body got identified a few days ago, but you didn’t know the girl.
“this is fucking crazy.” jennifer says, reaching for another fry.
“this article says the police are saying that the knife used to kill the girl last year is the same one used on the two new victims!” stephanie reads out.
“holy fuck, do you think they’re gonna investigate rafe again?” jennifer asks, turning to look at you.
“rafe got cleared, right? i think it’s unfair to hold it over his head just because he got questioned by the police.” you say.
“please, we all know he only got released because of his rich daddy.” your phone buzzes, and you flick your eyes down to the screen, blood turning cold.
you didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?
--
“hey, rafe.” you mumble, sliding into the seat next to him, able to feel the nervous energy in the room.
“hey.” he says in return, eyes on the desk in front of you. it’s clear from the moment you walked in that people were purposefully sitting further away from him than normal in the large lecture hall. over the past year, the fact that rafe was ever questioned about the first murder was forgotten, pushed to the back burner by whatever new gossip was sweeping campus, but with the new killing spree, he was back on their radar.
“surprised you’re sitting next to me.” rafe says, hands gripping his pencil tightly.
you know people are bound to whisper about you next, but you want to show that you don’t believe rafe could do it. you’re not that close to him, but he was your lab partner last semester and you believe yourself to be able to tell when someone is a crazy serial killer or not.
“why wouldn’t i?” you question, giving rafe a small smile. “besides, who else am i gonna get notes off of for when the professor changes the slides too fast again?” --
 you lay in your bed, wishing you could just go to sleep, but you’re too alert, waiting for something to happen, a noise or movement, but it doesn’t come. you pick up your phone, scrolling through instagram until you get bored of your repetitive feed.
your finger hovers over an app. you shouldn’t, but you do. you click open the text message thread, with only a single, taunting message sent so far.
hello.
you watch the screen for a response, surprised when they immediately begin typing back. miss me?
you catch yourself before you laugh. why did you kill scott?
why do you care?
you sit and think for a moment. i guess i don’t. you feel ashamed, but there is no judgment coming from the person on the other end.
i saw you on campus today. i like your hair in braids. wear it like that tomorrow.
you set your phone down on the nightstand, turning the screen face down. your sleep is constantly interrupted, waking up at every sound you hear, so by the time you drag yourself out of bed in the morning, it feels like you’ve gotten barely an hour all together, but still, when you head into the bathroom to get ready, you brush your teeth and then part your hair directly down the middle, braiding each side neatly.
your phone pings from the bedroom and you rush back in to look at it.
ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS: all classes and campus activity has been suspended effective immediately. common areas will remain open during the day, and we strongly advise all students to travel in pairs. a lockdown will be put into effect starting at 9pm every night, where all students must remain in their dormitories. 
you head into the living room, clicking on the tv while typing out a text to jennifer. 
“yet another murder has shocked the university.” you look up from your phone to watch the news report. “after linking the recent two killings of college students with the murder of kasia walters just over a year ago, a third murder has occured just last night, and we have exclusive details, including, an eye witness.”
you sit down on the couch, forgetting about your half drafted text as the news coverage reveals another classmate killed, again out in the open, but this time someone from inside one of the dorms happened to be looking out there window and witnessed someone dressed in all black except for a white ghost mask stab the girl multiple times. 
they show the ghost mask, apparently a popular one that can be bought at tons of stores, already starting to brandish the serial killer with the nickname ‘ghostface.’
your phone buzzes in your hand. she had her hair in braids like yours.
is that why you killed her?
i killed her because i can’t kill you.
part of you wants to ask why, but a bigger part of you doesn’t want to know.
--
you find yourself with nothing to do all day except scroll through social media. you don’t even have assignments to work on with classes being canceled instead of just moved online.
you open all the curtains in your apartment to get some natural light in, but keep every door and window firmly latched. you know you should start some routine to keep you from going crazy and thinking about the murderer.
you move from the couch to your bed, because why sit when you can lay down. you sigh and open up tumblr, scrolling through your feed until you get to a smut of your favorite character. you bite your lip and open it.
as you read, your hand drifts lower, rubbing your pussy from over your clothes as the words on your screen turn you on. you let out a soft moan, thankful for the soundproof walls of your apartment, and the fact that the unit next to yours is currently empty.
no better way to let out some stress with a good masturbation session. you push your hand down under your pants and underwear, sighing when you get a touch at your bare skin, fingers finding your clit and stroking over it as your eyes continue to follow the fanfiction.
dirty girl.
you jump at the text, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the open window. you can’t see anyone through it, but apparently they can see you.
don’t stop on my account.
you feel more turned on than you should, continuing to slowly move your fingers underneath you sweatpants. 
take them off for me. let me see your pretty pussy.
your cunt clenches around nothing at the words. you’ve never dirty talked with a man before, and really you’re not, responding with your body instead of replying to the texts. you stand up off the bed, knowing you shouldn’t, but you push your pants down, quickly followed by your underwear. you lay back on the bed, angling yourself slightly towards your window.
there you go. touch yourself again for me.
you begin to stroke over your pussy again, circling your clit as you wait for another text.
i would bury my head between your legs. i bet you taste delicious.
you let out a moan, moving faster.
i would have you cumming around my cock.
have you ever had that before baby? or are you a virgin?
you would never admit it to any of your friends, but you find yourself using one hand to type out the singular word: virgin.
the reply takes too long to come, you’re growing frustrated as your clit pulses.
i’ll be your first. cum for me, princess.
you toss your head back on the bed, flicking over your clit until you can’t hold it back any longer, cumming with a series of loud moans, spreading your legs wide to give whoever is watching you a good view as you cum, pussy clenching around nothing, practically inviting him in to fuck you.
you feel the shame the second your orgasm subsides, snapping your legs closed, standing up and shutting the shade, blocking out any view of your bedroom from the outside.
--
“no seriously, don’t you think a party is like the worst idea right now?” “no!” jennifer laughs. “it’s perfect. a bunch of people, all together. so literally nothing bad can happen!” 
you’re reluctant to agree, but it’s too hard to say no to your best friend, so you cave and get ready with her in your bedroom, applying some light makeup before spending half an hour choosing the right outfit. as much as you don’t want to go, if you are gonna, you are at least gonna look good.
you arrive at the party just before sunset, of course taking place at a frat house. thankfully it’s only about a three minute walk from your apartment, so both you and jennifer could drink as much as you pleased without being worried about finding a ride back, you could practically see your front door.
“gonna get us some drinks!” jennifer yells over the pumping music, and you nod, trying to find a place to stand that doesn’t have someone bumping into you every second. there’s nothing like a murder spree to bring a college campus together as you see some very unlikely people to be at a frat party.
“here you go!” jennifer hands you a cup of clear liquid. you know better than to smell it before you shoot it down your throat, cringing at the burn when you pull the plastic cup away from your lips.
“that’s fucking disgusting!” 
“i know isn’t it great!” jennifer yells in laughter, and you can’t help but join in the infectious sound.
“lets dance!” you say, feeling the alcohol moving through your system. the whole house is practically a dance floor, but it’s centralized in the living room, so you push through the outliers until you’re in the center of the crowd, laughing and jumping with jennifer as you move to the beat.
“i’m gonna get another cup, do you want more?” jennifer asks, having to yell practically in your ear for you to hear her over the music.
you shake your head, happy to keep dancing with just the lightest buzz. while jennifer is away, no doubt struggling to push her petite frame through the crowd, you feel a pair of hands on your hips. you turn to see who is trying to dance with you, frowning when its brandon richmond. he tried to hit on you so many times last year you lost count, but you turned him down every time.
you pull out of his grasp and put a couple of bodies between yours between dancing again, but when you see brandon following you throughout the crowd, you duck away, heading down the back hallway and out the door to the patio. you breathe in the fresh air, surprised to see no one else back here taking advantage of the quiet, even though the thump of base is still loud. 
you lean against the fence of the balcony, looking out past the backyard, realizing you can see the back of your apartment buildings from here, including right into your bedroom window. a shutter runs down your back thinking about someone watching you through it, even though you tend to keep the curtains drawn shut.
“what’re you doing?” you hear a voice slur, causing you to jump, turning around quickly to see brandon standing in the doorway.
“just needed some fresh air.” you say, trying to pull the hem of your skirt down farther, regretting the outfit choice.
“i hope you weren’t trying to get away from me.” brandon says, and his words have you pausing to consider that he may be the mysterious texter, the killer. after all, he raged after you finally firmly told him no. he didn’t hurt you, but you were afraid he might.
“n-no.” you back away, but there’s nowhere to go except down the steps and into the grass, into the darkness of the tree lined fence, but you’re willing to risk whatever is in the shadows before you stay this close to brandon.
you turn and retreat down the steps, hoping he will give up and go back inside, but when you feel his hands on your waist you know he’s not giving up any time soon.
“stop!” you shout, feeling one hand move up and grip your breast tightly, squeezing so hard it hurts.
brandon turns you around in his grasp, leaning forward in a clear attempt to kiss you, when suddenly he stops, face going slack as he pitches forward, making you step out of his way so he falls on the grass instead of on you.
your eyes travel from his body, not moving, to where he previously stood. you take a step back before releasing a scream. it’s him, it’s ghostface, standing there with a bloodied knife in his hand.
he takes no interest in you as he bends over brandon, stabbing him again in the back, and that’s when you realize theres blood spurting out of him. on the third swing of the blade you finally realize you need to move, turning away and heading towards home. you run as fast as you can between the houses, keeping your eyes on your apartment, not wanting to know how closely he was following you.
you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you wonder briefly if it’s ghostface or if it’s jennifer asking where you disappeared to.
you reach your door, thankful for briefly being in track in middle school for your ability to run fast. your hands fumble with your key, letting out a curse when you drop it from your hands shaking too hard, feeling like you’re in a horror movie as you finally get it unlocked.
you go to swing the door shut behind you, but it doesn’t latch. you fearfully turn around, realizing that his hand stopped the door from closing.
“p-please, i-” you back away as he steps into your space, your home, what was supposed to be the one place you were safe. he closes the door behind him, and you shudder hearing the click of the lock.
you turn and run towards the kitchen, hearing his footfalls close behind as you round the island counter in any attempt to get away, taking a cookie tray from off the counter and tossing it behind you as you run. it gives you enough time to head into your room, locking the door behind you. 
you head immediately to the window, knowing your apartment is no longer safe. you open it up, thankful for once to live on the first floor. you try to pull yourself up and over, but it’s too high off the ground and you’re wasting precious time struggling. 
you grab your chair from your desk, pushing it under the window and climbing onto it. you get one leg over the ledge, when a hand grabs your thigh, pushing you back into the room and onto the floor.
you scream as ghostface catapults through your window, smashing the pane shut behind him. locked in. you turn onto your back, trying to inch away as he begins to rant.
“i told you i would not kill you!” he screams. “i told you yet you still run from me!” your brow furrows as you try to place the voice. it’s so familiar. 
“i killed that boy for trying to rape you, and your thanks is to scream and run?”
“rafe.” you let out a sigh in realization. 
ghostface takes the mask and pulls it off his head, revealing a face that has your heart breaking. no. there’s no way he could be the murderer. the stalker.
“please don’t hurt me.” you whimper, using your bedpost to help pull yourself up off the floor.
“i could never hurt you.” rafe steps closer, reaching out to you, his glove leaving a smear of cold wetness on your cheek as he gently rubs it, and it takes you a second to realize it’s blood. “even though i want to.” “wh-why do you want to hurt me?” you ask.
“i love you too much. it’s the same reason i can’t.” rafe sighs. 
“thank you.” you whisper, unsure if this is the right course of action, but not wanting to anger him. “thank you for saving me.” rafe gives you a smile, one that dazzles you even after knowing the truth. “i knew you would understand me. you were the only person who knew i didn’t kill kasia.”
your eyes widen, “you didn’t.” it’s not a question, it’s a realization. 
“no. and no one believed me. i was in jail for a week, questioned for hours on end. nobody even cared to look at her boyfriend.” “i didn’t know she had a boyfriend…” you try to rack your brain to remember who she was often seen with, “scott moss.” “i knew nobody would believe me that scott murdered her. i had to get rid of him myself.” “and the other girls you killed?” you question, trying to back away from rafe but he just follows, not letting you get more than a foot apart.
“they reminded me of you.” 
“no.” you let out a sob, unable to hold it back anymore. “no, it can’t be my fault.” “shh.” rafe tugs his gloves off his hands, dropping them onto your floor. he cups your face in his hand, making you look up at him. “don’t cry. i hate seeing you cry. it makes me want to kill.” that sobers you up quickly, sniffling as you try to stop the tears. “i’m sorry.” you whisper.
“it’s okay… can i cheer you up baby? can i make you feel better?” “how would you do that?” you ask, and rafe leans forward to show you, pressing his lips against yours gently. you hesitate, realizing how absolutely wrong this is. you just saw rafe kill someone, but the feel of his lips against yours has you feeling dizzy, starting to slowly kiss back.
as soon as you show some initiative, rafe becomes feral, mouth dominating yours in harsh kisses as he moves his hands to your waist, fingers slipping into the space between your skirt and crop top. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him pulled tight to you. 
“get undressed.” rafe says, pulling away harshly. he pulls the costume off over his head, revealing plain clothes underneath it. you stand transfixed as he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing golden skin. rafe looks up, realizing that you’re not moving.
he reaches around his back to pull something out of your waistband. your eyes widen when the silver glint of the knife shines in the low light, “i said, get undressed!” rafe yells, pointing the knife at you.
you’re quick to move, toeing off your heels, pulling your skirt down and tugging your shirt off. you look up to see rafe removing his underwear. your eyes widen at his hard cock. you unclip your bra, tugging it off and then followed by your underwear, leaving you completely nude.
rafe looks at you, eyes moving all the way from your toes to your head, examining every inch of your body.
“you’re so beautiful.” he steps closer, hand cupping your breast, thumb gently rubbing over the side of it. “i would have been soft with you tonight, knowing you’re a virgin. but that was before you ran from me, and disobeyed me. get on the bed.”
you don’t hesitate this time, laying on the bed, with your head against the pillows. rafe sets the hunting knife on the nightstand, draping his body over yours, and you can’t help the rush of wetness that floods your pussy when you feel his cock rest against your thigh.
“i’m going to make you feel so good. so much better than brandon or any other guy ever could.” rafe smashes his lips against yours, battling with your tongue. his hands grip your jaw, squeezing your face as he moans into your mouth, rutting his cock against your skin.
rafe pulls his mouth away, moving it to your neck, sucking harshly. you can feel the blood rushing to the spot, forming deep bruises as he moves lower to your chest, marking your decolletage.
“i’ve wanted this for so long. now i finally get to taste your skin.” he wraps his mouth around your nipple, forcing a moan out of you. you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his mouth. rafe sucks harshly, like he’s trying to leave a hicky there too, before he pulls away, moving to your other breast.
instead of sucking this time, he sticks his tongue out, flicking over your nipple until it’s completely hard before taking it in between his teeth, making you shout as he tugs on the hard bud.
“rafe! oh my god!” 
rafe moans against your chest, moving slightly off your nipple before biting your breast, leaving a bite mark on your skin as he continues down, kissing and licking your stomach as he moves himself down the bed, settling between your legs.
“rafe, i-” you gasp out as he kisses your thighs. you try to pull them closed, not wanting his eyes on the most intimate part of you, especially knowing how wet you are. “i’ve never-”
“never had anyone eat your pussy before?” he questions, hands shoving your legs open. 
“no, i haven’t, i-” rafe cuts you off by shoving his face into your cunt. his tongue laps over your entrance, his own moans from tasting you matching your own from the unfamiliar sensation.
rafe is quick to shove his tongue into your pussy, thrusting it in and out as you bring your hands down to grip his hair, eyes briefly flashing to the knife sitting on the nightstand, knowing rafe isn’t paying any attention to it.
“more, more, more.” you beg, eyes moving back to look at rafe. the need is too great to consider doing anything to stop it. 
“gonna stretch you out with my fingers, baby.” rafe says, moving his mouth up to your clit. you let out a scream at the feeling, reaching down to grip his hair in your hands. you can feel rafe smile against you, sinking his teeth into your clit as he bites it. 
you squirm under the harsh feeling, it’s just too much, but he won’t let up as he pushes the tip of his finger against your puckering entrance, briefly circling it before shoving the digit inside in one firm push. your back arches off the bed as he lets go of your clit with his teeth, stroking over it with his soft tongue.
his finger pumps in and out of you, and you spread your legs wider, giving him more space to abuse your cunt as a second finger pushes in along with his first. rafe looks up at you, wicked smile on his face, “for a virgin you’re certainly acting like a slut.” you whine, feeling tears come to your eyes. “it feels too good.” “i know baby, i promised i’d make you feel better and i’m doing it, right? do you feel better?” “yeah.” you breathe out, his head dropping again to suck harshly at your clit, “yes! oh my god, rafe!”
“call me by my other name.” rafe says, only briefly pulling away from your pussy to speak before continuing to attack your clit.
you shake your head no, but rafe just gets a determined look in his eye, somehow managing to fit a third finger inside of you, stuffing your cunt full as it squeezes tightly around them, his fingers angling upward to hit the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.
rafe pulls his mouth away, thumb quickly taking its place over your clit, the rough pad rubbing harshly, tucking underneath to rub your most sensitive spot, and you can’t hold back any longer, as much as you try, “ghostface!” you shout, wetness flooding from your pussy and soaking his hands and the bed as you cum, entire body shaking as the sensation overwhelms your body, vision going black as you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing rafes laugh echoing throughout the room as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.
he pulls out suddenly and you can’t help but whine at the loss, your hole clenching around nothing. you blink your eyes open to see rafe kneeling between your legs, using the wetness from his hands to stroke his cock, coating himself in your slick.
“are you going to fuck me?” you ask, suddenly afraid of his size hurting.
“i’m sorry, princess.” rafe says, draping his body over yours, rubbing his dick against your messy cunt. “i would have been so gentle with you if you’d just behaved for me tonight.” “i’m sorry, rafe, i promise i’ll be good from now on, please go slow.” rafe frowns, like he’s seriously considering your pleas for a moment before he shakes his head, placing an elbow on one side of your head, reaching down with his other hand and lining himself up with your entrance. you breathe deeply, trying to keep your body from tensing, knowing that being relaxed will make it easier.
you cry out as rafe pushes his cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust as he immediately begins thrusting in and out. you watch as the eyes roll back in his head from finally being inside you.
“you’re so fucking tight, my little virgin.” rafe laughs, but it turns into a moan as he looks down at where his body is connecting with yours. “not a little virgin any longer though, huh?” rafe is bringing his entire body weight down with every thrust, and even though the stretch was painful at first, it just feels good now, the way his skin rubs against your clit every time he presses deep inside of you.
you can’t help it, when he pushes in and grinds his hips against you, your cunt flutters around his cock, squeezing it tightly, completely involuntarily from how good it feels.
“god, fuck!” rafe shouts out, making you flinch in fear.
“i’m sorry.” you whimper, eyes wide as he looks down at you, unable to read his emotions.
“you’re too fucking good.” rafe groans, hand coming up and gripping your throat, squeezing it tightly as he looks down on you. “i wish i could just fucking kill you.” your breathing is restricted, black flaring into your vision as rafe holds you by your throat, using it for leverage as he takes you repeatedly.
you try to form words, try to call out for him, and just as you start to slip into unconsciousness, rafe lowers his hand to your breast, gripping the skin there instead as you take in large gulps of air.
“i told you i wouldn’t kill you.” rafe says with a grunt, smashing your lips together in a kiss that steals your air just as much as his hand around your neck. 
“it feels so good.” you cry, pleasure sparking as he pulls at your nipple before switching to the other one, his cock pushing against your sweet spot with every thrust.
“yeah?” rafe laughs harshly. “gonna cum on my cock? i told you that you would baby.”
“i can’t, i can’t-” you sob, tears flowing down your face, unable to hold back your orgasm even though you’d like to. your entire body shakes as rafe is unforgiving with his thrusts, bending and licking at your face, collecting the salty tears from your cheeks with his rough tongue. 
“cum for me.” rafe grunts, pulling away to kneel between your legs, pulling your hips up off the bed to keep a deep angle as he smashes into you. “i said, cum for me!” the anger in rafes voice pushes you over the edge, scared of what he will do if you don’t follow his directions, your high washing over you, and for a second you feel like you’re floating over your body as pleasure takes over, until the sharp pain of overstimulation greets you as rafe continues to fuck you.
“please.” you try to shove him away, but he just smacks your hands away like they’re nothing more than an annoying little bug. you try next to squeeze your thighs together, but it clenches your sore cunt at the same time, making rafe moan.
“gonna cum in you.” rafe says, moving a hand to your clit, rubbing over it harshly with his palm.
“stop, stop!” you shout, your back arching and heels pushing against the bed as you try to get away from it, the overwhelmingly good feeling turning quickly to displeasure.
“never gonna stop, baby.” rafe grinds his dick inside of you, not caring for your pleasure. “now that you know who i am, i’m going to have to keep coming back here every night and fucking you silly so you can’t tell anyone.” “i won’t tell, i promise.” you try to look at rafe, but your tears cloud your vision. “i promise, rafe, please, just stop.”
you know your words aren’t what convinces him, but rather your pussy squeezing his cock, causing him to shoot his load deep inside of you as he moans, keeping your hips pushed firmly against his body. you whine as you feel him flood your insides, of course he didn’t use any protection, and you’re not on birth control, but you can’t even begin to think of the implications as long as rafe kneels over you.
“good girl.” rafe hums, patting your lower tummy as he slowly pulls out, cum falling in dollops onto your comforter.
“r-rafe.” you whimper as he lays down next to you. 
“shh, baby.” he pushes your hair out of your face, leaning over your body and giving you a light kiss on the lips. your eyes fluttering closed in pure exhaustion. “i told you i won’t kill you. go to sleep. i’ll be here in the morning. i’ll always be here.” 
you don’t protest as rafe pulls you into him, your body is too tired to move away from the murderer. you rest your head against his chest, still slick with sweat from fucking you. 
“are you going to keep killing?” you ask quietly. you’re unsure if he hears you, as the minutes tick by, the silence of the room now deafening. “i either keep killing them or i kill you.” rafe finally says, making you shudder. “which would you rather it be?”
guilt pangs in your chest as you whisper your response, “keep killing them.”
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bedoballoons · 5 months
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Fontaine, Sumeru , Inazuma boys + Zhongli and Xiao with a GN! Darling that has Newts Briefcase from fantastic beasts
Your blog looks beautiful btw
Awwe thank you so much!! <3 I hope you enjoy!
─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃
{༻~Reader with a briefcase like Newts~༺}
CW: Fluffy and magical! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour)
(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Tighnari, Heizou, and Xiao!)
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
𑁍༄Lyney:
Lyney obviously didn't know every magic trick in Teyvat, that would be almost impossible, but he did know quite a few of them and he could usually figure out how others were done fairly quickly, but how your suitcase managed to hold a whole boar, crystalflies of every element, and tens more animals, some of which he'd never seen before, was beyond anything even he could imagine.
You'd left him speechless, mouth agape as he stared at you in awe, "Mon amour, how is this possible? How are you doing that?" You blushed slightly, seeing the way his eyes shun like that of child's when they see something magic for the first time, "I can't tell, it's a secret, but you're welcome to use it for one of your shows, just make sure to feed the scorpions, they get angry otherwise and they aren't very nice when they're angry."
𑁍༄Zhongli:
Zhongli stared at your happy face, your arms extended outwards, being used as a perch for at least 10 exotic birds...all of which had appeared from your suitcase. Originally he had assumed this was only possible because the work of an adepti, but upon closer inspection he saw no signs of adeptal power, infact it seemed completely foreign to him...which only made him more curious.
"You say it can hold as many animals as the forests of Liyue? That's certainly a incredible feat...may I asked how you've acquired such a unique and interesting treasure?" He smiled slightly at you, hoping you'd clear up the mysterious nature behind the briefcase, but you simply chuckled, "One day I'll tell you, but for now it would be far more fun to keep it a secret~"
𑁍༄Tighnari:
Tighnari was sitting in front of your suitcase with his eyes glued to it like at any moment it could actually explode, not because it was somehow holding more animals than he even knew of, but from the sheer amount power such a item would have to have. In all of his days of studying at the akademiya and traveling to other lands in search of new plant varieties, he'd never seen anything like it. "Does it contains exotic plants as well? Do each of the animals have their own ecosystems? If you shut the suitcase for to long does the oxygen run out or does the suit case somehow supply oxygen? Have you ever tried to go in the suit case?"
Your eyes widened at his many questions, more and more spilling from his lips before he could stop himself...frazzling you slightly. You hadn't expected him to get so excited about it, but even with his never ending questions, it was absolutely adorable to see him this way. It was like he'd found a miracle and he wanted to learn everything about it with you.
𑁍༄Heizou:
Heizou stuck his head into your suitcase, trying to find clues as to how it worked, but the detective was more than just stumped, he was simply baffled as to how something like it could even exist. "You weren't joking when you said you wanted to show me something beyond my imagination. I've seen Onis with horns fight beetles and gods who can make the air actually buzz with emotion, but I don't think I've ever seen anything that has come close to the mystery behind this. Do you think you could live in it?"
"I suppose you could, but I'm not exactly sure. You could be the test subject if you'd like." You winked at him teasingly and he smiled up at you, almost like he was actually considering it for moment, "I think I prefer the scenery in the outside world, but we could always take a romantic vacation together inside the suitcase~" Your cheeks turned a scarlett red as he giggled at you quietly, if you teased him, it was only fair he teased back.
𑁍༄Xiao:
Xiao kneeled down, softly scratching the underside of a mora weasels chin, unbothered by the fact the animal had just run out of your suitcase along side a fairly massive boar. You actually seemed more surprised by his reaction than he did of your suitcase, "So what do you think hmm?"
"I think,...it reminds of the teapots us adepti sometimes use. They appear normal on the outside, but on the inside it's a island specifically designed with our comfort in mind, I've never seen a suitcase version before though.." His eyes met yours and your heart skipped a beat, you responded without even thinking and it flustered you to no end, "Do you have a teapot? May I see it if you do?"
"...I...don't have one, maybe, one day...we can make one together?"
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
◥(•̀₩•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧
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rileyslibrary · 11 months
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may i request ghost seeing reader making something (maybe a get well soon card or a papercrane or sth idk) and then someone accidentally ruining it? like how would he react? what would he do next etc
doesnt have to be a fic if you decide to write it, could be bulletpoints or something ez🥰🥰
thankyouu🥺✨
I love getting requests like this one; thank you @lululandd! Also, there’s a very important A/N at the end, so meet me there. Buh-bye for now, enjoy! 🍫
———————————————————————
Price got hurt. It was a terrible hit, and everything happened so fast. You were there, at the crime scene, as everything unfolded right before your very eyes.
His injury, however, wasn’t the result of a mission gone wrong; no. Some idiot forgot to put the warning sign on the wet floor, which caused the poor man to fly into the air and crash to the floor.
The good news is that he's recovering quickly and is now being held at the medical centre until he's ready to be released.
The bad news? Without a captain to guide the team, there was no mission to undergo. And, without a mission, none of you had a clear direction or purpose, leaving you all floating in a sea of mundane tasks and boredom. So, for the past few days, you and the rest of the team have been doing mind-numbing chores ranging from scrubbing the kitchen’s greasy ovens to meticulously organising the cluttered armoury.
While Soap and Gaz are on patrol, you and Ghost are taking a break in the mess hall. He’s cleaning his gun by disassembling it and wiping all its metal components with an alcohol solution. You sit across from him, working on a different kind of project: making a get-well-soon card for Price.
Last night, you snuck into HR’s office and “borrowed” some supplies to help you with your craft: a piece of white paper from the printer, some markers, and a pot of blue-coloured glitter dust you found in one of the drawers. It was a mystery as to why the military’s Human Resources department possessed glitter. Still, it will undoubtedly prove helpful with your "crafty" mission.
You also went to the doctor and requested some “normal-sized” bandages to help with your secret project. The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising one eyebrow. He asked why you wanted the bandages, but you were so vague with your answer that he became suspicious of you. So he pulled his desk’s drawer and gave you one fucking bandage—just one. So you had to make it count.
You folded the white paper in half and carefully attached the bandage horizontally to create the outline of Price’s body. The only thing left is to paint his face on the bandage and draw a hospital bed underneath it. That, and getting the team together to write some kind messages on the card.
Ghost looks at you every now and then, mildly intrigued by your artistic creation. You catch his eye, and he quickly turns away.
“Do you like it?” you ask.
“It’s a bandage on a piece of paper,” he says, shrugging. “What is there to like?”
“It’s not just a bandage on a piece of paper,” you explain and gesture to the figure on the paper; “it’s supposed to be Price lying in his hospital bed, recovering.”
His response comes in the form of a lengthy, dismissive snort. He points to the glitter pot in front of you.
“Why the glitter?” he asks.
“It’s for the bedsheets,” you murmur.
“I didn’t know they transferred Price to a love hotel,” he mocks, turning away from you to resume his task. You roll your eyes in response and shift your focus to your craft. This is the same guy you’ll later ask to write a few pleasant words on that card. Fun stuff.
You can still feel his gaze on you as you work on the captain’s card. Despite his best efforts to appear apathetic, you notice him leaning in slightly, pretending to stretch or yawn while sneaking peeks at your project. His body language betrays him; even though he tries to be tough and keep up the act, you know that deep down, he’s a huge softie who can’t resist a heartfelt gesture. He coughs, pretending to clear his throat, and you stifle a laugh at his failed attempt to seem disinterested. You roll your eyes and slam your hand on the table.
“What’s your problem, Lieutenant?” you ask with an amused smirk on your lips.
“I just don’t understand,” he says as he wipes the gun barrel. “Why bother making a card from scratch when you can buy one?”
“Because it’s more meaningful,” you explain. “When you take the time to create something yourself, it shows that you care. It’s not a generic card; it’s a heartfelt statement.”
He lets out a sarcastic scoff.
“I’d do the same thing for you, you know.” You whisper.
He puts down his rifle and looks at you. “You would?” He asks, surprised.
You nod. “Of course, I would,” you reply, “but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that; I’d rather you stay injury-free.”
He chuckles and turns to look at the mess hall doors as they open, with Soap and Gaz carrying a large box and approaching you both.
They slam the box on the table without assessing its weight, causing the entire surface to shake. The impact knocks Ghost’s alcohol solution over, spilling it all over the table and, even worse, all over your hand-made card.
Your heart sinks to your stomach as you helplessly watch the liquid soak into the card, smudging the ink and warping the paper. Ghost throws the gun on the table and grabs your card as quickly as he can. Soap curses under his breath, and Gaz grabs some paper towels from another table, attempting to rescue anything he can. But it’s too late; the damage is done.
You look up to see Ghost standing there, pinching your card between his fingers.
He is livid.
“What the fucking fucking shit, sergeants?” He murmurs.
“Apologies,” Soap replies, utterly unaware of what he’s done, “Hope we didn’t ruin anything important.”
“This,” Ghost says quietly as he raises the destroyed card, “was a get-well-soon card for Price.”
“Sorry guys,” Gaz apologises as he wipes the table off. “Soap and I will go buy another o-”
“SHE MADE THIS!” Ghost yells at him, “SHE MADE THIS WITH HER OWN HANDS!”
Soap furrows his brow. “Why would you make a card when you can buy one?” he wonders.
Ghost slaps his thigh, muttering profanities under his breath. You try to convince him that it’s alright and that a store-bought card will do just fine, but he cuts you off and looks at the sergeants.
“Why make a card instead of just buying one?” He asks and brings the tips of his fingers together, waving his hand back and forth in front of the two sergeants. “Because a hand-made card is more meaningful and personal than buying a generic one, you dimwits,” he lectures them and turns to you.
“Can you make another one, Y/N?” He asks softly.
You lower your head to the ground. “I’m afraid I’ve run out of banda-”
“SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANY MORE BANDAGES, YA PRICKS!”
“And I had only one sheet of paper.”
“AND SHE HAD ONL-” he pauses. “How come you only got one sheet?” He asks, and you explain that you weren’t supposed to be on the HR premises, so you had to act quickly. Ghost lets out a deep sigh as he looks at the ruined card.
“Sergeant Mactavish, go get a few sheets of paper from my office,” he instructs before turning to Gaz. “Sergeant Garrick,” he orders, “go to the medic; tell him that your new boots have caused blisters on your feet, and you need a few bandages to patch them up.”
They both nod and leave to go fetch your supplies. Ghost turns to you and crumbles your—already—destroyed card.
“Don’t be sad, kid,” he comforts you, “I’ll help you make another one.”
“Really, Lt.?” You ask, grinning.
“Damn right I will,” he says as he takes off his gloves, “and it’ll have bandages and bedsheets full of fucking glitter and everything nice on it.”
———————————————————————
A/N: The card was inspired by this tutorial from Jennie Moraitis; all credit goes to her. Here’s a picture of the card from her website!
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iicarused · 2 months
Text
##let us adore you
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jeff the killer x reader / eyeless jack x reader / ticci toby x reader / UNEDITED
synopsis: general headcanons in which how you met them
beware: DARK THEMES / yandere traits, stalking, implied manipulation, mentions of murder &&* gore //: if there is any that i missed, please let me know !
envelope from the author: masky, hoodie, and kate chaser will be pt 2 of this:)
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JEFF THE KILLER
he met you at a convenience store, how funny. this man planned on killing the cashier, take the cash and leave a meal for his cannibal friend out back, then hop to the next town over. yet, you walked through the aisles of the store at the dark of the night. do you know what kind of creeps are out here at this hour?
he waited for you to leave before he got the job done. you should feel relieved, you should feel like the most luckiest person in the world and it’s because he spared you.
“no, i’m staying back.” he would tell his eyeless friend. “it’s my business to know and for you to fuck off,” he’d argue. “i have a… dilemma.” jeff confessed. for someone he only caught a glimpse of, for a voice he only heard a faint whisper from, he didn’t know whether to stay just for you or to leave while he can.
you were a plague in his mind, because he searched for you. it took three days at most to finally find the dorms you stayed in, and another three to know your roommates schedule. everyone in the area was shaken from the murder, everything including you. but why?
he could not understand why you would lock your windows and double check if the door was locked. both of you lived in a secured building where security littered the grounds and constantly checked ID. jeff would know, he stole a carbon copy of himself (in terms of dressing style) just to make sure of your safety on campus.
“hey, watch it!” jeff barked at the random who sped by you. he fixed his mask and came to your aid, a gloved hand coming over yours to help you up from the grass.
“oh, they’re probably just late to class,” you breathed. “it’s fine, but thank you.”
through the thin lens of his sunglasses, jeff drank in your appearance. “they could’ve bumped you on to the curb side — it really ain’t, sweetheart.” you smell great by the way.
“but they didn’t.” you finally looked at him and smiled. “are you a med student?”
you’re so sweet. so pure, and he wanted to corrupt that. he wanted to see those pretty doe eyes flutter up at him like that again, for the sweetness behind your gaze was enough for him to melt. he wants you, no, he needs you.
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EYELESS JACK
you were a curious one, a little too curious in this scenario. a detective in a case of which you were to figure out why bodies were missing organs — or why people were waking up with soreness to their abdomen to only find a stitched up wound.
you took this case as an eager detective who wanted to solve the biggest mystery of north america — but you felt as if you just signed your life away. in the next eight victims that fell to their demise, you made notes of when and where it occurred. it would not be until a night after talking with the sheriff and little too much rum, you found something.
to your horror, the first letter of every street spelled something. two words that nearly sent you running if it weren’t for something stopping you from leaving
“found you.” his voice was a gentle whisper, and almost incoherent if it weren’t for the dead silence in the room. you dared not turn but you felt if you didn’t, it would come closer.
the pistol is on your desk and you’re ready to make a ruckus for anyone on the street to hear. “what? was this just some silly little game for you to show me you could spell?” there were only two regrets you had in your entire life.
the first regret was that you wished you never lied to your mother of who broke the plate that was on the floor. the second regret was turning around and facing a being that was too intricate for you to understand.
“i like playing with my food.” he replied before lunging at you.
you made it out alive — but at the cost of remembering how those sockets were nothing but a void. the liquid that cried on to your face when he was on top of you, and that second, you took your pen and stabbed his side. — but that encounter made you more determined than before
this case turned into a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you know who is cat or who is the mouse. chasing each other became a source of entertainment, and conversations ensued between physical fights
he never intended on killing you, oh no. you were too… fun. the chatting, the hunting each other, the thrill of it all made him go crazy. with time, maybe he can finally sink his teeth into your skin without the murder aspect. he just wants to taste you.
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TICCI TOBY
your name appeared on the file of people to “take care of.” why? he doesn’t know and quite frankly, he cannot care. you were just another name on the list that needed to be gone.
he would not lie that it took him ages to find you. the town you were supposedly at was a total flunk, and when he told the boss, he was told to figure it out. at this rate, he wanted you gone for the sake of his own sanity. yet, after a month and hopping two towns, he finally found you.
everything he had on file sprouted nothing but lies because you were a doll, quiet literally if he fixated on your skin. he watched the way you moved and the way you made it seem effortless to walk on two feet. he often tripped over his when gawking over you. your scent is just how he imagined it when he peered over your sleeping form.
you made him forget why he was in search of you in the first place. toby fantasized a lot about you: your curves, your voice, your walk, your life. he often daydreamed of it when watching from afar, especially when you went through mundane tasks such as grocery shopping. the only time he remembered why he was told to end you was when he questioned why you were such a threat.
turns out you were friends of a friend who was a foe to his boss — the eyeless man. he made it no secret when in turn he went to find jack, but he didn’t expect to meet you so soon! oh, this is way too soon, how does he look? is it okay, this setting isn’t the right place, i mean, you were supposed to be
“toby? just toby? that isn’t quiet threatening for a man like that, isn’t it?” you werent speaking towards him, but instead asking jack who snorted in return.
you were a prize on the shelf, and toby wanted to keep you behind glass doors. “listen — pal, friend — how about we make a deal.”
while jack couldn’t see it, your gaze was locked with toby’s the entire time. there was something behind them, something that you couldn’t quite place. you weren’t sure whether if it was a good or bad thing considering the work you found yourself in.
“i give you a useful warning from a boss, and i... tag a long sometimes.”
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lialacleaf · 7 months
Text
A Touch Too Personal
Chapter 1
Simon Riley x Reader
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Summary: You had a crush on Ghost since you started working for Price in communications, but the gruff, reserved Lieutenant only acknowledged your existence on the job. That starts to change with a simple, thoughtful gift.
Warnings: Fluff, Simon is bad at processing emotions, past trauma
Chapter 2
You cared deeply about every single one of your teammates. It didn’t matter that you were sitting in an office talking to them over the radio, you were still providing them with intel and directions that kept them alive.
They were like a second family, and so Task Force 141 slowly began to feel like having a lot of older brothers.
Johnny was your go to partner in crime when it came to making mischief, and you knew he was always down for a good prank.
Kyle on the other hand was good for having deep conversations and was the one you always went to for advice.
Ghost…well ghost was a bit different. Your feelings towards him weren’t exactly that of a sibling. Maybe it was because he was more reserved than the others, a mystery or puzzle that you couldn’t quite figure out, but you couldn’t help but feel warm inside on the rare occasion that his intense gaze did linger on you.
Which lead to your current dilemma.
Every time you went home, you made sure to bring one of the boys a gift when you returned to base.
Being that Price was like a father figure, you brought him a handcrafted mug from your hometown’s local pottery festival. Soap had gotten a pocket knife with his call sign engraved on it, and Gaz had received a baseball cap with a hand stitched 141 on the side in his favorite color.
However, now it was Ghost’s turn, and you were at a loss. What would he even like to have? You knew he had an array of tactical gear, you’d seen him knit pick through it on occasion, but you didn’t know enough about working in the field to know kind of tools he’d like. He had so many knives already, that it felt redundant to get him another.
What on earth were you supposed to give this man?
“Maybe you could make this Ghost fella something yourself?” Your mother suggested as you sat in your parents living room to ponder the issue.
Your mother liked Ghost’s nickname, and laughed whenever you brought it up. You could only assume she was picturing a little boy in a Scream costume, and you had to admit that was a little funny. Ghost was the only one to not have shared his real name with you, and thus always ended up being teased by your family, not that he was aware of that.
“Like what?” You asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m stopping by the craft store, how about you come with me instead of sulking in the living room?”
~
You watched your mother peruse through the holiday decorations and shook your head. That woman was amassing quite the Christmas village collection.
You wandered through the store with dwindling hope until you saw it. It was in the fabric section that you found the most perfect pattern for your Lieutenant.
The fabric had a black background, with white Ghosts all over it. You picked up the roll with a brilliant smile on your face, and ran over to one of the fabric department employees.
“I need some of this,” you said, giddy and bouncing on the balls of your feet.
“How much do you want?” The woman asked, preparing her scissors.
Ghost was a pretty large man, and you took a moment to think about just how much fabric you were going to need.
“Uhhh, a lot.”
~
“Lass! How was the family?” Johnny asked, pulling you in for a tight hug as you pulled your luggage into your room on base.
“It was good, ate a lot, took my cousins shooting, family stuff,” you said with a grin. “I gotta show you something,” you insisted, pulling him inside your room.
“Oh? What’s that?” He asked curiously.
“You know how I always bring back a surprise?” You began, a grin on your face.
“Who’s the lucky winner?” He chucked.
“You tell me.” You beamed at him as you pulled out the larger than life knot-tie blanket you’d made, and Johnny’s jaw dropped.
“You did not!” He gasped, chuckling at he inspected it. One side was the Ghost fabric you’d found, and the other was made from the softest army green material you could find. In the top corner. You’d stitched in a small British Flag patch, and each corner has a sandbag sewn in.“You made him a bloody weighted blanket? What gave you that idea?” He asked.
“We’ll I couldn’t find anything I thought he’d like at first, but then I saw the fabric and it just fell together so perfectly!”
“Oh man, I would kill to see his reaction to this,” Johnny said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.
“You say that like we ever get to see his reaction to anything,” you stated. You’d never actually seen him without some sort of face covering.
Johnny tisked softly and shrugged. “Alright, you got me there,” he admitted. “He’s in his room now, probably as good a time as any.”
You couldn’t help but grin broadly. “Perfect.”
~
You felt a lump form in your throat as you approached Ghost’s door. You knew it was just the nerves that came along with your little crush on the Lieutenant, but it still made the task at hand a little daunting.
You took a deep breath, knocking softly on the door. Maybe you should have wrapped it for him. What if he didn’t like it? How were you supposed to react if he just brushed you off.
The door opened before you could rethink your decision. It always came as a shock how large Ghost was, no matter how many times you stood mask to face.
“You’re back.”
You felt your heart rate spike. He had noticed you were gone? Had noticed you? Of course he had noticed, it was his job to notice, it didn’t mean anything.
“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to ask how your trip was, or if you were glad to be back. He didn’t.
“I got you something!” You said suddenly, holding the folded blanket out to him, and his entire body seemed to freeze. He stared at it for a moment or two, as if he were slowly processing the object.
“What is it?”
Your smile faltered. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he inspected it as if it were some kind of trick. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he took it carefully from your hands.
“Where’d you get it?”
Shit, he hates it.
“I- Uhm. I made it,” you admitted, your cheeks blazing. This was stupid. You were stupid.
He looked between you and the blanket in his hands, and nodded. “Thanks,” he said before stepping back into his room and closing the door.
You pressed your lips together firmly in an attempt to not start bawling. You walked off on shaky legs, taking deep breaths. At least he hadn’t told you he didn’t want it.
~
Simon sat on his bed, his thumb brushed over the small flag patched into the corner of the blanket. The fact that you had made him a gift by hand had his stomach in knots. He knew about your little gift tradition with the rest of 141, but he hadn’t expected to be included, nor did he expected you’d go to such trouble. The two of you weren’t even very close.
He swallowed thickly as tears pricked his eyes. This was the nicest thing any teammate had ever given him.
He brought the fabric to his face and gave it a deep whiff. It smelled fresh, like laundry detergent. You must have washed it before you gave it to him.
Simon spread the blanket carefully over his cot, admiring how the fabric felt against his hands. It didn’t catch on his calloused fingers, and wasn’t too fluffy.
It was large too, as if you’d taken his massive size into account. He was certain he could easily caving himself in it. His bottom lip wobbled slightly, and it was an effort to hold his tears at bay.
That night, Simon slept soundly, wrapped in your carefully crafted gift, and you were the only thing on his mind.
AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!
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pucksandpower · 7 months
Text
Ties That Bind
Charles Leclerc x royal!Reader + Max Verstappen x sister!Reader
Summary: life as Princess of the Netherlands is pretty perfect but when health issues become a (literal) royal pain, you discover a familial connection that will change your life forever
Warnings: struggles with infertility, child abandonment, serious health issues, medical procedures and treatments
This is what happens when I’m insane enough to try juggling writing an 8k+ word fic with studying in medical school
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The night was a cascade of ethereal snowflakes, each one glistening under the pale moonlight, landing gracefully upon the earth. The silver car glided along the road, its headlights illuminating the path through the thick curtain of snow, like two piercing eyes navigating through sorrow.
Inside, Prince Frederik of the Netherlands drove in silent contemplation, the weight of the day’s news pressing heavily on his heart. Beside him, Princess Marianne stared out of the frosted window, her reflection capturing swollen eyes that glistened with fresh tears. Her fingers trembled slightly, crumpling yet another now irrelevant medical report indicating one more failed IVF attempt.
“I thought this time would be different,” Marianne whispered, her voice quivering. “I truly believed it.”
Frederik’s grip on the wheel tightened. He turned to his wife, pain evident in his eyes. “I know, my love. I know.”
As they drove, Frederik’s eyes caught a glimpse of something unusual by the side of the road. “What’s that?” He murmured, slowing the car.
Marianne followed his gaze. “It looks like a bundle ... stop the car!”
Frederik brought the vehicle to a halt. They both jumped out and hurried over to the mysterious object. As they approached, Marianne gasped. “Oh my God, Frederik ... it’s a baby!”
She quickly bent down to scoop the tiny, shivering form into her arms. The baby’s skin was cold, blue lips barely parting for shallow breaths as the thin pink blanket wrapped around it did little to fight the chill. “Who could do such a thing?” Marianne cried, holding the child close for warmth.
Frederik’s face hardened. “We need to get her to a hospital. Now.”
Back in the car, Marianne cradled the baby, trying to transfer her warmth. “Stay with us,” she murmured, tears spilling. “Please, stay with us.”
As they sped towards the hospital, Frederik reached over and held Marianne’s free hand. “It'’s a sign,” he whispered. “After everything we’ve been through today ... finding her like this ... it’s fate.”
Marianne looked down at the baby, her fingers gently brushing the soft wisps of hair on the child’s head. “Our little miracle in the snow,” she whispered back.
Frederik smiled faintly, squeezing Marianne's hand. “Yes, our snow angel. We’ll take care of her and she’ll take care of us.”
***
“You know, every time it snows, it feels like the world is celebrating the day we found you,” your father, now King Frederik, remarks, gazing out of the vast palace windows at the flurries descending from the sky.
You smile, reaching for a delicate pastry from the breakfast spread laid out before you. “And every snowflake reminds me of the warmth of this family that saved me from the cold.”
Your mother, Queen Marianne, hair now threaded with silver, gives you a loving glance. “Our snow angel, right when we needed you most.”
“Speaking of snow,” you muse, “I’m thinking of wearing the ice-blue gown for tonight’s gala. Thoughts?”
Your father raises an eyebrow, “For the Children’s Foundation event? Perfect choice. It complements the theme and matches the tiara your mother has picked for you to wear.”
You grin, “Who knew you had such a fashion sense?”
Your mother chuckles, “It’s a king thing. But he’s right. And with your sapphire necklace, you will be the talk of the gala.”
You take a sip of your tea, thinking of the evening ahead. “I want to ensure my speech captures the essence of our foundation’s work. It’s more than just another royal event, this is about making a real difference.”
Your father nods, “It always is for you. That genuine desire to impact lives, it’s how I know you will be a great Queen one day.”
You blush slightly, “I learned from the best.”
Your mother, with a hint of mischief, remarks, “And speaking of learning, have you decided on a dance partner for the first waltz? There’s quite a line-up available.”
You laugh, “Oh, Mom! Let’s not start matchmaking before breakfast is over.”
Your father joins in the mirth, “Give her a break, Marianne. Our snow angel must not melt.”
***
The regal hallways echo with the gentle patter of your heeled footsteps. Lately, the palace, your lifelong sanctuary, feels more like a maze. A sudden wave of dizziness makes you pause, leaning against a gilded wall for support.
“You okay there?” a soft voice calls. It’s your mother, her face etched with worry.
“Just a bit dizzy,” you mumble, attempting a reassuring smile.
She hurries over, her gown flowing. “You’ve been looking pale these past few days.”
Before you can reply, a sharp sensation pricks your nose. Touching it, you’re shocked to see blood on your fingertips. “Oh no,” you whisper, panic creeping into your voice.
Your mother’s eyes widen. “We need to see a doctor.”
“But the gala—”
“Forget the gala!” She interrupts. “Your health comes first.”
***
Inside the royal clinic, the room is a tense silence. Your father paces while your mother sits beside you, holding your hand tightly.
The family physician finally arrives, his expression somber. “Your Highness, Your Majesties,” he begins, “we’ve run several tests.”
“And?” Your father demands, halting his restless walk.
You take a deep, shaky breath, bracing yourself.
The doctor hesitates for a split second. “You have aplastic anemia.”
The room seems to close in. The words hang heavily, turning the opulent clinic cold.
Your mother’s voice trembles, “What does that mean?”
“It’s a condition where the bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells. This leads to fatigue, higher risk of infections, and uncontrolled bleeding,” the doctor explains.
Your mind races. The symptoms make sense now — the fatigue, dizziness, the nosebleed.
Your father’s face hardens, searching for hope. “What’s the treatment?”
The doctor looks grim, “The most effective treatment at this severity is a bone marrow transplant. We will need to find a matching donor.”
Your mother’s grip tightens on your hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll find one. We have to.”
Your father nods. “We will move mountains if we have to.”
You muster a small smile, drawing strength from your parents. “One snowstorm at a time.”
***
“How long does it usually take to find a match?” Youu inquire, voice trembling ever so slightly.
Dr. Van der Meer, the lead hematologist on your case, sighs, “It varies, Your Highness. Some find a match within their family, others from the global database. It can take days or even months.”
Your mother breaks in desperately, “But surely, with our resources, we can expedite the process?”
Your father adds, “Every avenue, every connection we have at our disposal is yours to use, Doctor.”
Dr. Van der Meer nods, “I understand the urgency, Your Majesties. We’ve already started to search within the national database. Meanwhile, we advise immediate family to get tested first.”
You interject, a sense of realization dawning, “But I’m adopted. Our genetic makeup differs.”
Your father and mother exchange a heavy look, the weight of your situation pressing down on them.
“We still have a vast network, a whole nation even,” your father muses. “Surely someone out there is a match.”
Dr. Van der Meer hesitates then says, “Actually, there has already been a hit from the database. A potential match.”
Your heart skips a beat. “Who?”
“We maintain confidentiality, Your Highness,” he replies. “But once we confirm the match and receive their consent, you will be informed.”
Your mother’s voice is tinged with hope. “So there’s a chance? A real chance?”
You lean forward eagerly. “When will we know more?”
Dr. Van der Meer offers a comforting smile. “Soon, Your Highness. For now, patience is our ally.”
***
“It’s been weeks, Doctor. Why haven’t we heard from the potential donor?” The frustration is clear in your mother’s voice.
Dr. Van der Meer looks up, choosing his words carefully. “The potential donor ... has some reservations.”
Your father’s brow furrows. “Reservations? Isn’t saving a life more important?”
The doctor clears his throat, “It’s a bit more complicated than that, Your Majesty. The potential donor is someone you’re familiar with.”
You lean forward, your curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”
There’s a momentary pause, the silence thickening. “Max Verstappen.”
Shock ripples through the room. The name isn’t just any name. It’s a name known to every Dutch citizen, celebrated in every corner of the nation.
Your mother blinks in disbelief. “The Formula 1 racer? We’ve met him multiple times at the Grand Prix. But why would he have reservations?”
Dr. Van der Meer hesitates, “There’s more to it. We ran some further genetic tests, customary for close matches. The results were ... unexpected.”
Your father leans forward in anticipation. “Go on.”
The doctor takes a deep breath, “Max Verstappen is not just a match. He’s ... he’s your half-brother.”
The room goes still. The revelation hangs in the air, too staggering to fully comprehend.
You feel your world tilt. “That’s impossible.”
Your mother’s voice is a whisper, “How can that be?”
Dr. Van der Meer clears his throat. “The genetic markers were unmistakable. Given the rare degree of compatibility and the markers we found, there is no doubt.”
Your father runs a hand through his hair, trying to process the news. “So all these years, at every Grand Prix, we’ve been cheering for ... family?”
You chime in, a flurry of emotions whirling inside, “And he doesn’t know, does he?”
The doctor shakes his head, “No, not yet. That’s the reservation. Revealing this ... it changes everything for him too.”
Your mother is contemplative. “We’ve celebrated his victories, felt the pride of having him represent our country. And now, knowing he’s family ...”
You interject, “And now, we need him more than ever. Not as a driver, not as a national icon, but as family.”
Your father’s resolve strengthens. “We need to tell him. He deserves to know.”
***
“How do you even begin a conversation like this?” You wonder aloud, staring at the blank screen of your laptop.
Your father, deep in thought, answers, “Honestly, directly, and with sensitivity. It’s uncharted territory for all of us.”
Your mothers adds, “Perhaps start by expressing your genuine feelings, without the weight of our titles or his fame."
You nod slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Dear Max,” you repeat out loud as you begin typing, then pause. “Too formal?”
Your father shrugs, “It’s sincere. And that’s what matters.”
Taking a deep breath, you continue:
Dear Max,
This isn’t a typical letter and I struggle to find the right words. By now, you might have been informed by the medical team about our unexpected connection. I wanted to reach out personally, not as the Princess of Orange, but simply as ... family.
Your mother reads over your shoulder, “That’s a good start.”
I cannot imagine how jarring this news must be. It was for me too. All these years, our paths crossed, shared smiles exchanged, never knowing the deeper bond we shared.
“Maybe mention the Grand Prix, how it has been a tradition for us,” your father suggests.
Every year at the Dutch Grand Prix, my parents and I cheered for you, felt immense pride in your victories. The realization that those cheers were for family adds a layer of emotion I can’t quite put into words.
I understand if you need time to process this. But I want you to know that this revelation changes nothing about the respect and admiration I hold for you. However, it does add a depth of connection, a newfound kinship.
Your mother, her voice choked with emotion, suggests, “Maybe let him know why it’s important now, about your condition.”
The reason I am reaching out now is not just about our newfound connection but also because of a pressing health concern I am facing. I need a bone marrow transplant, and as it turns out, you are my best match.
“Reassure him,” your father adds. “It’s a big ask.”
I understand the weight of this request. There is no obligation, only hope. No matter your decision, I want you to know that discovering this bond, this link between us, is a gift in itself.
Please take all the time you need. Whatever you decide, I respect and cherish the connection we have discovered. Wishing you all the best on and off the track.
Sincerely,
Y/N
Your father, visibly moved, murmurs, “It’s perfect.”
Your mother nods in agreement, tears shimmering. “It’s from the heart. Now, we wait.”
***
The roaring engines on the racetrack outside fade as the door to the private lounge close behind you. Max Verstappen stands there, his usual confident demeanor replaced with apprehension. The weight of the recent revelations is thick in the air.
“You look different without the crown,” Max remarks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
You chuckle softly, “And you without the helmet.”
The initial ice broken, the two of you sit. A beat of silence passes. Then Max, eyes searching yours, asks, “Why now?”
You take a deep breath. “I’ve always known I was adopted. Every snowy day, my parents would recount the tale of how they found their snow angel. I grew up surrounded by love and privilege, never lacking anything.” Your voice trembles slightly, “But there were nights ... nights I’d wonder about the person who left me there, in the snow. Why didn’t they want me? Why did they abandon me to the whims of a storm?”
Max’s expression softens, his own memories surfacing. “I grew up with my father’s strict guidance. Racing wasn’t just a passion, it was life. There was little room for anything else. I always thought I understood my family but this ...” He sighs, looking away. “It makes me question everything.”
You nod, shared uncertainty bringing you closer. “But through all this confusion, one thing is clear: we’re family. Blood, it seems, has a way of revealing itself.”
Max smiles ruefully, “You know, I have a sister, a full sister. Growing up, we were close but our paths divided. Racing consumed me. Now, discovering I have another sister, you, it’s ... overwhelming.”
You chuckle, “Two sisters. Lucky you.”
He grins, “Twice the protective instincts.”
The humor fades, replaced by raw emotion. “You know,” you whisper, tears brimming, “Despite everything, I’m grateful for our paths crossing like this. Even if it took a lifetime.”
Max reaches out, taking your hand. “Me too.”
The weight of the moment presses on both of you. You look at each other, eyes brimming with tears, souls bared.
In a sudden rush of emotion, you step forward, collapsing into Max’s embrace. He holds you tightly, as if trying to shield you from all the past hurts, regrets, and questions. The warmth of the hug contrasts sharply with the cold memory of that snowy night. In his embrace, the years of wondering, the pain of abandonment, seem to melt away.
Pulling back slightly, you look up into Max’s eyes. With a tearful smile, you whisper, “Brother.”
He grins back, “Sister. How would you feel about attending the next race, not as royalty but as my guest?”
You hesitate, the memories of previous races filled with formalities and protocols. “It will be different.”
Max wraps an arm around you shoulders, “Very. But I promise, you will see the world of racing like never before.”
***
The roar of the engines, the excitement of the crowd — it was all distantly familiar. Yet, standing beside Max, everything feels different.
As you walk through the paddock, Max’s pride is evident. “Guys,” he calls out to his mechanics, “Meet my sister.”
They look up, surprised, then smiles break out across their faces. “It’s an honor, Your Highness,” one of them greets.
Max nudges him, “Just call her by her name.”
You laugh in agreement, “It’s nice to meet you all without the formalities.”
Max continues his introductions, his enthusiasm infectious. When you reach Christian Horner, he looks pleasantly surprised. “It’s been a while,” he remarks, “Though our meetings were always, well, more formal.”
You nod, “It’s a different world from this side of the track.”
Max beams, “And she’s getting the full experience today.”
When the race starts, every moment feels magnified, more personal.
And then, the checkered flag waves for Max.
The Red Bull garage erupts in jubilation. During the celebration, Max, still in his car, locks eyes with you from across parc fermé. You can see the moisture, the emotion in his eyes. The moment he is out of his car, he races over, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“This win,” he whispers hoarsely, “it’s not just for me this time. It’s for us. For family.”
As the Dutch anthem plays during the podium ceremony, tears fill your eyes. The anthem, a proud symbol of your country and kingdom, now also symbolizes the new, ever-growing bond with your brother.
Max, standing tall on the podium, catches your eye and winks. And as the ceremony concludes, he suddenly turns, aiming his bottle of champagne right at you. The spray catches you off guard, laughter bubbling up as the cold liquid soaks you.
“You had to, didn’t you?” You laugh, wiping away the liquid before it can sting your eyes.
Max ruffles your hair, “It’s my new duty as your older brother!”
***
“Hey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Max says, pulling you towards the thrumming heart of the afterparty.
The vibrant lights and chatter fill the room but everything seems to slow as you’re introduced to a lean figure with tousled hair and hypnotizing eyes. “This is Charles Leclerc,” Max grins, “One of the toughest guys I’ve raced against.”
Charles offers a charming smile, “Pleasure to meet you. Max speaks highly of you.”
You raise your glass in a mock toast to your brother. “Glad to hear that my bribe has been paying off.”
Charles laughs, “Well, considering today’s win, you might just be his favorite person.”
The two of you share a laugh, an effortless ease settling between you as you barely notice Max walking off with a wink shot your way.
“You’ve been to several races, haven’t you?” Charles asks, sipping his drink.
“In a more official capacity, yes. But today was ... different.”
He nods, his gaze intense, “Being family changes the perspective.”
Charles leans in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now that you’ve seen me on the track maybe I should show you some of my other talents?”
You raise an eyebrow, the thrill of the night’s excitement mixing with his words. “Oh? What other hidden skills do you possess?”
His voice drops to a sultry murmur. “Well, I make a mean pasta carbonara. Maybe I’ll whip it up for you someday.”
You laugh, the warmth of the moment spreading through you. “I’ll definitely hold you to that.”
Max, watching from a distance, nudges Carlos, “Look at them. Told you they’d hit it off.”
“You know, I’ve always been curious about the life of a princess,” Charles muses, a playful glint in his eye. “Is it all tiaras and tea parties?”
You smirk. “It’s more boring than you would think. But for a driver like you, every day’s a thrill, right? Speeding cars, roaring crowds, adoring fans?”
He grins, leaning closer, the proximity making your heart race. “Most days. But some nights, the thrill is ... elsewhere,” his gaze deepening, locked onto yours.
The two of you are drawn into a world of your own, the party’s noise fading into the background.
He brushes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer. “Have you ever considered doing a hot lap? It’s quite the rush.”
You laugh, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I don’t know about getting in a race car but I can think of something else I’d love to ride right now.”
As the club’s pulsating music envelops you, Charles leans in, his voice husky over the beat, “Care for a dance?”
You accept, and as you both move to the rhythm, the world around seems to disappear. The close proximity, the electric energy on the dance floor, and the feeling of his body moving against yours is intoxicating.
“Right now,” Charles murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard above the music, “I feel like the winner tonight.”
You smile, your gaze locked onto his, “The night is still young. Let’s see where it takes us.”
***
“I’ve noticed you’re attending more races lately,” Max comments, a teasing glint in his eyes as you both walk through the paddock.
You shrug, feigning innocence. “Well, I’ve developed quite an appreciation for the sport.”
Max chuckles, “Or for a certain Ferrari driver?”
Blushing, you retort, “Can’t it be both?”
Before Max can respond, Charles approaches, his smile brightening as he spots you. “Good to see you again,” he greets, though his eyes convey a warmth that words can’t.
“You too,” you reply in a voice softer than intended.
The three of you share some casual banter before Max excuses himself, leaving you alone with Charles.
“You know,” Charles starts, “it’s become the highlight of my race weekends, seeing you here.”
You smile, “I’ve come to realize that there’s more to F1 than just the thrill of the race. There are ... other attractions.”
Charles grins, “Is that so? Any attraction in particular?”
You playfully nudge him, “Don’t get too confident, Leclerc.”
Weekends spent at circuits become a regular fixture in your life. While you’re initially there for Max, the increasing time spent with Charles deepens your bond. The stolen glances during press conferences, the private moments away from the limelight, and the late-night conversations make the connection undeniable.
One evening, after a particularly intense race, Charles pulls you aside, his face flushed from the adrenaline. “Every time I cross the finish line and look towards the other garages, I hope to catch a glimpse of you.”
Your heart skips a beat. “And if you do?”
He smiles, “It either makes victory all the more sweet or the sting of defeat not quite as painful.”
***
“You’ve made the front page again,” Max remarks dryly, handing you a tabloid during breakfast.
You glance at the headline, The Princess and the Racer: F1’s Fairytale Romance accompanied by a candid shot of you and Charles out to dinner.
Charles groans, “They make it sound like a soap opera.”
You sigh, “It’s the price we pay, I guess.”
As weeks go by, the media scrutiny intensifies. Every public appearance and every minuscule gesture, is analyzed, often blown out of proportion. The weight of the world’s eyes strains the joy of your newfound relationship.
One evening, after a particularly invasive article speculating about a rushed engagement, Charles pulls you aside, his face drawn with concern. “I noticed you’ve been pale lately, more tired. Is it the stress from all this media attention?”
You hesitate, biting your lip. The truth is, it’s more than just the media. Your health has been deteriorating and you’ve been trying to hide it.
“It’s not just the media,” you admit.
His eyes are filled with worry. “What is it?”
Max, overhearing the conversation, interjects, “It’s her health. She didn't want to worry you.”
Charles looks at you in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
You take a deep breath, “I didn’t want to add to the pressures of the season, to be another burden.”
He reaches out, holding you close, “You’re never a burden. We’re in this together.”
You take a shaky breath, drawing strength from his words. “I’ve been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. It’s a condition where my bone marrow doesn’t produce enough new blood cells.”
Charles pales, “That’s ... serious.”
You nod, “After this race, I’m starting chemotherapy to destroy the dysfunctional bone marrow in preparation for a transplant.”
Silence envelops the room. Charles processes the weight of the revelation, the enormity of the situation sinking in. “Why now?” He finally asks.
“Timing is crucial,” Max chimes in, “She’s been putting it off, not wanting to disrupt the season. But we can’t wait much longer.”
Charles runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just wish you had told me sooner.”
You reach out, touching his arm, “I didn’t know how. Everything was happening so fast — our relationship, the media attention. I didn’t want to add more stress.”
Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his voice choked with emotion. “Promise me, no more secrets.”
You nod, tears streaming down your face, “I promise.”
***
“Are you sure you want to be here for this?” You ask Charles as you both sit in the sterile hospital room, awaiting the doctor who would be overseeing your chemotherapy treatments.
Charles takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Every step of the way.”
The door opens and the doctor walks in, a gentle but serious look on her face. “Before we begin, there’s something important we need to discuss. The chemotherapy might affect your fertility. It’s not certain but there is a significant risk.”
You freeze. You had expected side effects, the potential hair loss, the fatigue. But this? This was unanticipated. This ripped your heart out of your chest.
Charles tightens his grip on your hand, his face pale. “Is there ... any way to mitigate that risk?”
The doctor nods, “We can retrieve and store your eggs. It’s a procedure done before chemotherapy in some cases. You will need hormone injections for about 10 to 12 days to stimulate the ovaries.”
You look at Charles, your eyes filled with tears, “It’s another delay.”
Charles brushes a tear from your cheek, “We face this together. I am here for you no matter what you decide.”
The days that follow are a whirlwind. Charles is by your side every step of the way, providing both emotional support and administering the daily injections.
Each evening, he carefully prepares the hormone shot. “Ready?” He asks, looking into your eyes.
You nod, trying to put on a brave face. But the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the emotional toll. Still, with Charles by your side, each day becomes bearable.
One evening, as he administers the injection, he whispers, “I’m so proud of you. Your strength amazes me every day.”
Tears spring to your eyes. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth enveloping you. “You’ll never have to.”
***
“Are you sure about this?” Charles asks, his fingers brushing yours as you lay on the hospital bed.
You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I am. It’s a step towards preserving a potential future, one I hope to share with you.”
His eyes soften. “Every step, I’m here.”
The medical staff move around in the background, preparing for the procedure. The hum of machines and the sterile environment contrast starkly with the intimate bubble you and Charles share.
As the procedure begins, Charles holds your hand, his thumb drawing comforting circles on your skin. “Remember our trip to Monaco?” He murmurs, attempting to distract you. “The sea, the laughter, the little café by the pier?”
A smile tugs at your lips, even as you nod for the OBGYN to proceed. “The one with the overly sweet pastries?”
Charles chuckles, “That’s the one. Imagine us there, a decade from now, two kids in tow, arguing over whether chocolate or vanilla is better.”
The image he paints eases your tension, providing a temporary escape from the clinical room. The retrieval is swift but the emotional weight lingers.
“You did great,” Charles murmurs, brushing a stray hair away from your face.
You smile weakly, “One hurdle crossed.”
The next phase comes swiftly the following day: chemotherapy. The treatment center is full of artificial warmth — the walls painted a deep yellow and the heater working overtime to keep patients as comfortable as possible — but it does nothing to counteract the chill of fear that has taken over your body.
When the nurse enters with the IV bag for your chemotherapy, Charles stands up, his stance protective. “How does this work?”
She explains the process, her voice soft, “The medication will enter her bloodstream and target the rapidly growing cells. There might be some side effects but we will monitor her closely.”
You feel a pinch as the needle is inserted and soon the clear liquid starts making its way into your veins. You blink rapidly, willing the tears away before Charles can see them.
Attempting to lighten the mood, he starts recounting some of his funniest moments from racing. You chuckle at his anecdotes, grateful for the distraction.
Hours pass. The room is filled with a mix of medical beeps and Charles’ voice, offering a counterbalance of cold reality and warm comfort.
As the IV bag nears empty, you feel a wave of fatigue. Charles notices. “Rest,” he urges softly, his thumb caressing your hand.
You nod, closing your eyes, “Thank you for being my anchor.”
He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Always, for every challenge, every step. Always.”
***
“I still can’t believe you made him go,” your mother murmurs from the chair next to you. The hum of machines and the sterile scent of the hospital room are in stark contrast to the roaring engines and burning rubber of the track that you can almost sense through the television screen.
You manage a weak smile. “He belongs on the track, Mom. This race is crucial for the championship.”
“He wanted to stay,” your father adds. “He’s racing with a heavy heart.”
“I know,” you whisper, a tear trickling down. “But he’s strong. And I want him to win, for both of us.”
The room falls silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. You can feel the potent cocktail of drugs coursing through your veins, sapping your strength but a necessary step to fight the disease within.
The TV in the corner broadcasts the race. You hear the commentator’s voice, “... Charles Leclerc, giving it his all today. You have to wonder where he’s drawing this intensity from.”
You know the answer.
The laps go by. With each turn, each overtake Charles makes, you can sense his determination, his desire to win not just for the title but for something else … someone else.
“You should rest,” your father advises, noticing your drooping eyelids.
But you resist, wanting to witness Charles cross the finish line.
The final laps are intense. Charles battles fiercely, and as he takes the checkered flag, the room bursts into subdued cheers.
“He did it!” Your mother exclaims.
You feel a swell of pride. “For us,” you whisper, before fatigue takes over and you drift into a deep sleep.
As consciousness slowly returns not too long after, the first thing you notice is the gentle vibration of your phone on the bedside table. Groggily reaching for it, you see a new message notification from a group chat with Charles and Max.
It’s a photo of Charles and Max, still in their race suits, grinning ear to ear. Charles holds up his first-place trophy while Max proudly displays his second. They’re both covered in champagne, evidence of the post-race celebrations.
These are for you. For our champion.
With shaky fingers, you type back:
My heroes. Thank you for being my strength. So proud of you both. Can’t wait to see you again.
Your mother, noticing your reaction, peers over your shoulder. “Those boys,” she says with a fond smile, “they really adore you.”
You nod, wiping away a tear. “I’m so lucky.”
***
“Hey, sis,” Max’s voice is soft, tinged with a mix of worry and hope as he sits beside you in the pre-op room, “Ready to share a bit more than just DNA?”
You manage a small smile, despite the anxiety. “As long as you don’t start claiming we share driving skills.”
He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Promise.”
The doctor enters, clipboard in hand. “Both of you understand the procedure, correct? Max, we will be extracting bone marrow from your pelvic bone. It’s a relatively straightforward process but you might feel some discomfort.”
Max nods resolutely. “Anything for her.”
You swallow hard, emotions swirling. “Thank you, Max. This ... it means everything.”
He looks at you, eyes filled with a brotherly love that’s grown exponentially over the past few months. “We’re family. We look out for each other.”
As Max is wheeled away for his extraction, he offers a brave smile. “See you on the other side.”
Hours later, as you sit by his bedside, watching him slowly come around post-procedure, you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”
He groans, “Feels like I’ve done a doubleheader race without any breaks. But it’s worth it.”
Then comes your turn. Max, despite his exhaustion, insists on being present. The stem cells he donated are infused into you through a central line. It’s a simple procedure but one filled with so much hope and emotion.
Max watches closely, gripping your hand. “You got this,” he murmurs as the life-saving cells flow into your body.
You try to show a convincing smile before closing your eyes and praying to whoever’s listening that this works.
***
The pale blue walls of the hospital room have become all too familiar, the rhythmic beep of machines a constant in the background. You’re reclined on the bed, an IV line dripping nutrients and much-needed blood transfusions into your system. As your body adjusts to the new bone marrow, these are crucial.
Max is seated beside you, a crossword puzzle in hand. The chairs aren’t particularly comfortable but he’s still rarely left your side.
Max taps his pen against the paper thoughtfully. “Alright, here’s one for you. Seven letters: someone who is always there, no matter what.”
You raise an eyebrow, pondering. “Is it brother?”
He grins, “You’re getting good at this.”
You chuckle, “Well, I can’t help it when the answer is so obvious …”
He leans in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I snuck in some of those chocolates you like from that little shop in town.”
Your eyes widen in mock horror. “You rebel. We’ll be banished from the kingdom.”
He winks, producing a small box from his bag. “Worth it.”
As you both indulge in the illicit treat, you realize just how much these little moments, these shared smiles and inside jokes, make the ordeal bearable.
Max notices your contemplative expression. “Hey, what’s on your mind?”
“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have a brother who sneaks chocolates into a hospital for me.”
He extends his pinky towards you, “Always. Until the end of the race.”
You intertwine your own pinky with his to immortalize the promise, “And beyond.”
Just as the two of you are finishing the last of the chocolates, the door swings open quietly. Charles steps in, his eyes immediately seeking you out. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hand, their vibrant colors standing out against the sterile environment.
“You two conspiring without me?” Charles teases, setting the flowers on the bedside table.
Max smirks, “Just ensuring she gets her daily dose of chocolate, doctor’s orders.”
Charles moves to your side and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better now that my two favorite racers are here,” you reply with a smile.
Charles laughs, “I see. Well, the doctor outside told me your blood counts are improving. Seems the new bone marrow is getting to work.”
You nod hopefully. “One day at a time.”
Charles moves closer, taking your free hand. “Every day is a step closer to getting you out of here.”
Max, sensing the intimate moment, stands up, stretching. “I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Need to grab a coffee and give that crossword another go.”
Charles smiles gratefully at him, and as Max exits the room, you’re left in a bubble of comfort and warmth with your boyfriend.
***
“Grant our daughter strength and good news,” your mother’s prayer weaves through the tense atmosphere of the room.
Charles’ grip on your hand tightens and he whispers, “Whatever the news, we face it together.”
“Guide the hands of the doctors, let their knowledge lead to healing.”
Max, on your other side, offers a comforting squeeze, his face betraying his own anxiety. “You’ve come so far already.”
“And bless our family with your grace and protection.”
The prayer lingers in the air just as the door opens.
“Grant her the strength, the health, the life she deserves ...”
The doctor steps in, a manila envelope in hand. Everyone’s gaze immediately fixes on him, the room heavy with bated breath.
He looks around the room, making eye contact with each one of you, then finally says, “The results are in.”
You feel Charles’ hand tremble slightly … Max’s grip tighten … your father barely breathing behind you … a silent prayer still on your mother’s lips.
“The bone marrow has taken exceptionally well. All indicators and markers are positive.” The doctor smiles. “You’re officially in remission. You’re cured.”
A tidal wave of emotion crashes over the room. Tears immediately spring to your eyes, happiness and relief mingling in each drop.
Your mother’s whispered prayer crescendos into a heartfelt “thank you,” choked with emotion.
Your father, the ever-composed king, has moisture in his eyes as he holds you close, “Our snow angel, our miracle.”
Charles pulls you into a tight embrace next, his voice a shaky whisper, “You did it.”
Max is grinning from ear to ear. “Told you, sis. Until the end of the race and beyond.”
***
“Look at them,” Max says, nudging you as the camera pans over the pit crews, each member prominently sporting a bright red ribbon. “All in solidarity.”
Charles beams, joining the conversation. “It was Max’s idea. The ribbons. Both teams were eager to join in.”
You’re touched, tears threatening to spill. “It’s incredible. Both of you, your teams ... I’m speechless.”
The commentator on the screen picks up on the theme. “For those just tuning in, both the Ferrari and Red Bull teams are wearing red ribbons today in support of aplastic anemia awareness, a personal cause for them given the recent battle of the Princess of Orange with the condition.”
Mid-race, Max’s voice crackles over the team radio, “This one’s for you, sis.”
Charles, not to be outdone, pushes his car to the limit, the red ribbon painted on his helmet clearly visible every time the camera focuses on him.
Later, as you walk back out through the paddock, fans approach, many sporting red ribbons of their own. One young girl looks at you with stars in her eyes, “I wear this for my mom. She’s fighting too, just like you did.”
You pull her into a gentle hug. “She’s got this. I know she does.”
***
As soon as the statement goes live on the official website of the Netherlands Royal Family, the internet erupts.
The Royal House of the Netherlands is pleased to announce that Her Royal Highness, Y/N the Princess of Orange, and Mr. Charles Leclerc are officially courting.
Your phone buzzes incessantly with notifications. Charles, seated beside you, chuckles, “Well, there’s no going back now.”
Your father enters the room, a smile playing on his lips. “The people seem to be taking the news ... enthusiastically.”
Your mother, scrolling through her own device, adds, “And overwhelmingly positively. Listen to this: We’ve seen them together. Their chemistry is undeniable. Wishing them all the best!”
You exhale, a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I was so nervous about the reaction.”
Charles brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, “We’re in this together, remember?”
Max bursts into the room with his usual energy, “You two are trending. The fans are loving it!”
Screens across the nation flash images of you and Charles — at the racetrack, during hospital visits, candid moments captured by keen-eyed photographers. Talk shows and news channels dive deep into analyzing your relationship, piecing together any crumbs of insight they might have.
A popular racing pundit remarks on a live broadcast, “Their bond is evident, both on and off the track. Charles’ performance has been exceptional since they've been together. It’s clear that they draw strength from each other.”
The public’s fascination is insatiable. Magazines are splashed with titles like Love in the Fast Lane. But despite the media frenzy, what touches you most are the personal messages. Fans share artwork, write songs, and pen heartfelt letters, celebrating love and the winding path that brought you both to this moment.
One evening, as you and Charles sit on the palace balcony overlooking the city, he turns to you, “They’re acting like we’re some sort of fairytale.”
You lean into him, “Maybe we are. It’s our story and I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
***
“You know,” your father begins, a playful glint in his eye as he slices into his steak, “I had an amusing conversation with Prince Albert the other day.”
Charles, taking a sip of his wine, raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Your father chuckles, “He said Monaco might need to extend an invitation for our next state visit given that we seem to have shared interests now.”
The table erupts in laughter. Your mother adds, teasingly, “And here I thought we were simply bonding over diplomatic ties.”
“So,” Max leans forward eagerly. “Any embarrassing stories about Y/N? I have to make up for all of the childhood adventures I’ve missed.”
“Oh, there are plenty! Remember the time she tried to drive a lawnmower and ended up in the rose bushes?” Your father says, trying to look serious.
Marianne chuckles, “Don’t remind me! Those were my favorite roses.”
You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I was eight! And I thought it was a car!”
Charles grins, squeezing your hand under the table. “I can only imagine a mini version of you so determined behind the wheel.”
“And at her sixth birthday party,” your father recounts with a smirk, “she declared that she’d be ruling the kingdom by sundown and tried to hold a mock council meeting with her stuffed toys.”
Charles nudges you playfully, “Planning coups at six? Should I be worried?”
You swat him lightly, “It was a phase.”
As dessert is served, your mother turns contemplative. “You know, I’ve always believed in destiny. And seeing all of you here, witnessing the bonds and the love, it reaffirms that belief.”
Charles nods his agreement, “Life has a way of bringing the right people together.”
Your father raises his glass, “To family, in all its forms. To the journeys we embark on and the memories we create.”
The clinking of glasses has never sounded sweeter.
***
Charles, his face flushed with the victory of the 2025 World Championship, stands on the podium, trophy in hand. The cheering of the crowd is deafening but as he signals for a microphone, a hush descends.
“I’ve never done this before,” he starts emotionally, “naming my car, I mean. I watched Seb do it year after year and I always wondered what that felt like, to have such a connection.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze scanning the audience until it lands on you. “This season, I finally understood. My car, the one that just secured this championship, I named it after the most important person in my life.”
The crowd waits with bated breath.
“I named it,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, “after you. After the woman who has been my anchor, my strength.”
You feel tears prickling your eyes as the sheer intensity of his words hits you.
Charles signals and you’re gently nudged forward, guided up to the podium. The world seems to blur, the noise, the people, everything fading until it’s just you and him.
“Every race, every lap, I had two goals: to win for the team and to make you proud,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours. “You are my world. And today, in front of everyone here, in front of the world, I want to ask you one thing.”
He gets down on one knee and your hands move of their own volition to cover your mouth. Producing a gorgeous ring, Charles looks up at you, his eyes shimmering. “Will you marry me?”
The world stops.
The deafening cheers of the crowd seem quiet compared to the beating of your heart.
Tears stream down your face as you nod. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”
No sooner have the words left your mouth than Max and Lando, the other two podium finishers, gleefully seize the moment. With mischievous grins, they uncork their champagne bottles, dousing both you and Charles in a bubbly shower. The liquid gold sparkles in the sunlight, adding to the magic of the moment.
Charles pulls you close, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as you both get soaked.
***
The grand cathedral, bathed in the soft glow of a thousand candles, echoes with the hushed whispers of eagerly waiting guests. Roses, lilies, and orchids cascade down the pillars, their fragrance mingling with the scent of incense.
Behind the doors of the bridal suite, Max stands beside you, dressed impeccably in a classic tux. There’s a brotherly tenderness in his eyes as he reaches out, smoothing the delicate lace of your dress to ensure that every detail is perfect.
“You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, the emotion of the day making his voice waver.
“You clean up pretty well yourself, Man of Honor,” you reply, squeezing his hand.
As the first strains of the bridal march begin, the doors open, revealing the grand aisle, lined with well-wishers from all corners of the globe. Your father steps up and offers you his arm, his eyes glassy with pride and a hint of melancholy. “Ready, my snow angel?”
You nod, tears of happiness already blurring your vision. The world narrows down to the altar, where Charles stands, back straight in his crisp full dress uniform. As you make your way down the aisle, your eyes lock with his and the universe contracts to that singular point of connection.
Charles’ normally composed features give way as he takes in the sight of you. His eyes, also glistening with tears, convey a depth of feeling that words could never capture. Love, gratitude, wonder — all interwoven in that magnetic gaze.
His voice breaks as he whispers just for you, “You are my dream, my reality, my forever.”
Your own voice is thick with emotion, “And you are my heart, my soul, my love.”
As vows are exchanged and promises made, the world bears witness to a love that defied odds, overcame challenges, and brought together not just two souls but two worlds.
And as you both seal your commitment with a kiss, there is not a single dry eye in the cathedral. Because love, true love, is a force to be reckoned with, and today, it reigns supreme.
***
The soft whimpers of a newborn fill the air of the private birthing suite. Nestled in your arms, wrapped in a royal blue blanket, the baby prince stirs, his tiny fingers curling around one of yours.
Charles, sitting beside you, gazes down at your son with sheer wonder. “He’s perfect,” he says in a teary whisper.
You nod, tears streaming down your face. “Our little miracle.” The journey, the IVF treatments with your frozen eggs , the hope, the fear — everything culminated in this singular, beautiful moment.
The door opens gently, revealing Max, his eyes wide as they take in the sight before him, and your parents, their faces a canvas of joy and pride.
Max approaches tentatively, his usual confidence replaced by an awe-inspired reverence. “May I?” He asks softly.
You nod, handing over the precious bundle. As Max holds the baby, a bond forms instantly. “Hey there, little one,” he coos, “Your godfather is here.”
Your mother, tears in her eyes, leans in, planting a gentle kiss on your son’s forehead. “Welcome to the world, our precious grandchild.”
Your father, hoarse with emotion, simply murmurs, “An angel for our snow angel.”
And you know what? You decide that the fans were right. Your life really is a fairytale.
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jkloserdazai · 10 months
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★miguel o'hara x male reader(sfw)
★genre: fluff/crack
★warning(s): none
★a/n: i thought this would be a lil cute thing to just leave on my acc, soooooo here take it bro
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miguel was quite a complicated guy, many knew that much he's been through a shit load and he just always has a look on his face, a look like he really didn't have an interest in what anyone was saying.
to add it all up, he's a grumpy guy. a very grumpy guy it's a miracle if you ever make him smile. a few, especially peter b. and his baby daughter have tried countless times but he barely ever cracked a smile or a smirk even.
now for you, you could say you were somewhat closer to him than others. you were aloud to be around him more outside of working or any dimension crap that needed to be dealt with.
and even around you he'd barely crack a smile yet you found yourself to be quite a funny person, hilarious even. and put of all the attempts others have tried to make him even laugh have all failed. miserably.
though today was a boring day, there wasn't really much work to be done. some people were back home, and others just hung out like you, miguel, and jess had been doing.
but you were just staring into soace as miguel and jess had been doing there own thing until something you thought was a little funny popped into your mind.
"hey hey, miguel." he didn't turn around, but you knew he was still paying attention. "hm." "why do cannibals never eat clowns?" jess started to listen in a little as well wanting to see what you had to say.
miguel huffed a little continuing what he was doing, "why?" you started to laugh a little jus thinking about it, "because they taste funny." it was a small moment of silence before you heard a small chuckle, well thats what it sounded like to you.
"jess, was that you?" jess shakes her head, "my laugh ain't that deep." she answered already knowing who it was, and she slightly gestured her head to miguel.
"it was you!" miguel shook his head denying it, "no it wasn't, you're crazy." you scoffed hearing this, "i am not crazy, i heard you!" you start to scooch closer to him examining his face for a while,
there was no sign of any type of laughter really just his same straight face. "miguel i know it was you who laughed im not crazy," "nope." rolling your eyes you look back at jess than him, "deny it all you'd like! you know it was funny."
'course he did, if he wasn't all mysterious and scary looking he would have burst out laughing. "the joke was dumb, no one would have laughed at that." "but you did." he shook his head, "i did not."
he did. and he knew that. the joke was just really stupid. but like hell he'd ever admit that he laughed at it, even a little bit.
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don't worry your a very funny person he laughed and he knows itttt @esthxio @gaybitchfx @secretivemessenger @reallyromealone / @rome-alone @vyloy @bloodyfennec @lostsomewhereinthegarden
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folkvangr-seidr · 2 months
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You're a bad idea.
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Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader
Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.
Words: 1.3k
Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?
a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times. hope you enjoy!
You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.
You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.
Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.
More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.
Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.
She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.
The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?
So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.
Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?
God, she needed some sleep.
_________
You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.
You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.
"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.
You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.
You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.
Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.
You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.
You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.
"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.
You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.
"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.
You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.
Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.
You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.
_________
Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.
You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.
"What do you want from me?" you asked.
She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.
"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"
Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.
"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.
She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.
Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.
You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.
_________
You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.
"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.
You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.
You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.
Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.
You liked the solitude of it.
So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.
"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.
"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.
You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.
"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.
Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.
"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.
And she sounded so sure of it.
Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.
"So pretty…" she said.
Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.
"Fuck" she whimpered.
You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.
"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.
"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.
You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.
You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.
She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.
The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.
"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.
And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.
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Hi hii-! If it isn't a bother can i request either the dorm leaders + Jamil or the first years with an Mc who is basically like Mei from turning red with the whole turning into a Giant red panda and all? You can decide if they're gonna be yandere or nah i just wanna see how they would react to mc suddenly turning into a red panda whenever they get overwhelmed by their emotions ehe
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Turning Red Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
When you came to their world to be the magicless prefect they know and love Grim is expected to be the only furry member of Ramshackle. They are soon proven wrong when you finally lose it. All the overblots, the stress, the mysteriously creepy gifts addressed to you. You’re hairs bright red color was nothing more than a random trait until you turned into a giant red panda:
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Vil Schoenheit
“Well darling, this is unexpected…”
He’s genuinely surprised
But he can make this work 
Being a connoisseur of working under pressure 
He knows exactly how to calm you 
Even when you're a giant panda
Some things may have to change like the amount of the sleeping potion he will give you
But know worries he can adapt
And with your newfound fame who better to preen you for your upcoming career
“Trust me, dear, this is my territory. So leave your cute paws in my hands.”
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Kalim Al Asim
“Sooooo Fluffffy!!!!” 
He’s so obsessed with shoving his face in your fur
And if you let him ride you, he’s on cloud 9
Your even cuter than you were before
But this is because your stressed!?!
Well as your future husband bestest friend he’s going to change that
So stay in Scarabia don’t even worry about going back to Ramshackle
He wants you to get used to living in luxury anyway
He’s more than happy to have you and Grim stay
Especially when you’re transforming into a panda
“Come on (Y/n)! You shouldn’t have to be stressed to bring out the panda!”
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Azul Ashengrotto 
“Well, we all have our…vices.”
This complicates things
How’s he supposed to turn you into a mermaid now?!
But it's fine 
Hey, if you’ve made money on this before 
He’s more than happy to get a piece of the pie
Granted he’s not exactly pleased that this is a stress response
Whoever’s the cause of that stress he’ll politely intercede
With a contract that will have their lively hood on the line
“Just know that once you sign my contract all your cares and worries and you+ will be mine to take care of.”
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Riddle Rosehearts
“I see, we both seem to have our own reactions to stress.” 
He’s oddly elated 
He loves you deeply obsessively
So he will not tolerate anyone speaking negatively 
Anyone
He’s offing everyone’s heads that he sees talking badly about your latest change
He relates and he wants to help 
Funnily enough his fiery reaction to things you consider stressful has you relaxing if only to calm him down
And he’ll never admit it but he’s found you 10x more attractive when you angrily panda out
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Leona Kingscholar
“See? I warned you not to bother them us. It’s not my fault your body will be in shreds.”
All the more reason to stay napping with him
But when you panda out he prefers to sit back and enjoy
He doesn’t really bother doing anything unless it's calming you down 
And hiring a crew to clean up after you
He only is bothered by it when you don’t immediately yield to his control
Well other than your turning into a panda you’re still just a magicless prefect
That’s why it should be easier to keep you under his control
That or you’re going to be stressed with how many of your friends start avoiding you
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Malleus Draconia
“What a marvelous trait!” 
His heart is already set on you
But what is this?
This insatiable desire to rub his face into your fur and carry you around in your giant form?
“Is this…the fabled…cuteness?”
If anyone’s going to forget that they very well bring armageddon from cuteness aggression it's him
And because you being you have already fueled his emotions the electrical tempest that plagues NRC
He just reacts even worse when others have the same appreciation for your panda perfection
But only he is going ableto monopolize it
After all you don’t want the entire island falling into a sleep-like death right?
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Jamil Viper
“So your emotions are tied to your panda and when it comes out?”
“Yeah…”
“That’s really cute That’s inconvenient.”
He’s pleased you most likely rely on him to assuage yourself from freaking out
And boy does he have so much more power
While your under his spell he might as well advise you to ask him on a date
Or forget about that missing student
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Idia Shroud
“Whoa (Y/n)’s cuteness stats just upped themselves 40%!”
He’ll make even more merch 
But he’s not selling it 
There for him to squeeze and cuddle and pretend to make out with
Even better if you panda out in his room 
so he can have your scent everywhere
He might even instigate it
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roosterforme · 10 months
Text
So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader
Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.
Warnings: Fluff and swearing
Length: 2000 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!
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"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.
"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."
"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window. 
"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."
Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."
Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.
"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.
"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"
"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat. 
"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.
"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"
"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."
Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."
"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."
"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."
"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."
"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.
"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."
Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.
He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.  
"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.
He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable. 
"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back. 
"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you. 
"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water. 
"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."
"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.
"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"
Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."
"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here. 
"I used to play third base."
And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players. 
"I'm their coach."
Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"
"Yeah. They're not my teammates."
Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."
He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"
"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile. 
"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"
"University of Oregon."
"Shit. You must be good."
"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter. 
"I'll bet you are."
"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now. 
"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."
"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand. 
"Okay. Go ahead and guess."
"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.
Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."
With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."
"Damn. You are good."
"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."
Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."
You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."
"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"
You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."
He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"
"Home. At USD."
"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now. 
"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"
He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."
"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"
"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"
"Mmhmm." 
He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."
"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."
You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."
Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention. 
Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends. 
"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."
"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted. 
"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."
Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."
"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text. 
Can't wait for tomorrow.
And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.
XOXO
And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached. 
"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"
Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"
"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."
"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.
"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."
Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.
-----------------------------
The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@swthxrry
@chassy21
@yaboid19
@solacestyles
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@hecate-steps-on-me
@xoxabs88xox
2K notes · View notes
pirateprincessblog · 2 months
Text
2 batteries away
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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG
Also I miss Rick very much 🥺
*
"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.
you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.
"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.
"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."
"viagra? for who?"
you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.
"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.
you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.
"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.
"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.
"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.
"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"
"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"
rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.
"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."
one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.
"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."
"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."
"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"
"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."
"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.
rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.
"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."
he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.
you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.
"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.
you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."
"mmh."
he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.
"shoes." he says after some time.
"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.
"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."
you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.
"you?" he asks.
"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."
"shit, girl, oversharing much?"
"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.
"not female underwear. your underwear."
you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.
"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."
and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.
"oh, i also wish to find-"
"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."
ew.
ew.
ew.
he did not.
"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"
how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.
"well the age fits the description."
"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.
arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.
"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.
you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.
"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."
"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.
"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."
if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.
you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.
"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.
you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.
daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.
"dammit."
you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.
"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."
"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."
he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.
"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.
"wha'?"
you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.
"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"
your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.
"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"
"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."
you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.
"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.
"you gonna go get 'em?"
"why would i go? you go."
"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."
you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.
"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.
you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.
"it's a wand."
"wand?"
"yes."
"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.
"masturbating."
thud.
you look down, mortified. he better not break it.
"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"
"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."
you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.
feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.
"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.
he spares you a glare, and continues walking.
"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"
"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."
"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."
"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.
you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.
"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."
he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.
you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.
not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.
after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.
you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.
you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.
fuck it.
you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.
taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.
you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.
you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.
something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.
"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.
your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.
"the hell?"
your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.
"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.
"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"
"I-"
"is that my vest?"
he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.
"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.
"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."
"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.
your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.
"it's not like that-"
"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've  put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"
he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.
"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."
what?
"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."
silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.
tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.
"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.
"since rick chose to trust me."
you hum, understanding.
"listen-"
"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.
his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.
"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."
"i'm older than you. way older than you."
"so?"
"i could be your father."
"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."
"why do you get so triggered by it?"
you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.
"because."
"why?"
"doesn't matter."
"tell me," he presses further.
you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."
you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.
tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.
"wha- what are you-"
"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.
you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.
"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.
you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.
"don't be. or else i might regret this."
you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.
"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.
"just hush."
and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.
you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.
"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"
"nah."
before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.
it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.
"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.
he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.
"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."
for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.
"needed someone older to take care of ya."
you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.
daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.
"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.
"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"
you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.
"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."
"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.
"i'd split you in half, little one."
every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?
"then, what are we doing?"
he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.
"you share toys?"
"sometimes."
"good."
he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.
"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.
"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."
nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.
he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.
"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.
"give me a second."
you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.
"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.
he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.
you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.
"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.
"i wanted to. before, today, too."
"you sure?"
"yes."
you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.
"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."
"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."
he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.
"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."
you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.
"oh, you- you- you asshole!"
"right back at ya."
***
yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷
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unreliablesnake · 4 months
Text
Big reputation (Simon Riley x reader)
Summary: You got injured on the field and now Ghost feels bad. Well, maybe it's not just guilt...
Note: The people have spoken. Soft!Ghost. Fluff. Short story.
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In your previous team you managed to enrage a general that you shouldn’t have, and apparently kicking you out of your comfortable position was his way of punishing you. So now you came to meet your new team at the base, already having ideas of who’s who based on rumors circulating in the military. 
There was Price who was fair and relatively calm, Gaz who was loyal to the fault and was a surprisingly nice guy in general once he warmed up to you, and you couldn’t forget about Soap–whose call sign you found utterly ridiculous–who was a big mouthed but reportedly funny Scotsman. 
And then there was Ghost, the man who was a mystery to most. No one has seen his face from the people you talked to about the team, and you had a feeling you wouldn’t get to see it either. But that was okay. Him being a big and scary guy wearing a skull mask that every single person was terrified of was more than enough to make you cautious around him.
Fast forward to four months later, when Ghost became your shadow after a fucked up mission where you got hurt. It happened under his watch so he was probably blaming himself, but he never really gave you a reason why he was always near you. Soap was the one who mentioned him possibly feeling guilty, and since you had no better idea, you believed it to be true.
The big scary guy didn’t seem so scary anymore. He was more like a loyal guard dog that followed you everywhere and scared off people you didn't want to be around.
“You should go to bed, it’s late,” he said one evening after a briefing.
It was only the two of you in the room, everyone had left already, but he was going through some reports before taking them to Price. You let out a sigh and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your thighs as you observed him. He had left the room before, but after it emptied and it was only you in there, he came back with the files. Out of nowhere. Without a warning. He mumbled something about needing a quiet place, but that was a terrible excuse considering he had his room to go to.
For some reason he glanced over at you every once in a while, watching you as if there was something he wanted to say to you. But every time your eyes met, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him. He didn’t speak up and you weren’t about to bother him with questions. Ghost was usually pissed if someone asked too many questions, this is how Soap got burned a few times in the past. 
Then something changed. He closed the folder and turned his attention to you again, this time not shying away from making it obvious he was staring. You raised an eyebrow in question, hoping he would say something, but he remained silent. With a groan you stood up and walked over to him, gently pushing the folder away so you could sit on the edge of the desk next to the lieutenant. 
His hand inched closer, just enough to let his little finger brush your thigh. “It’s late,” he repeated his previous statement. 
“I’m not sleepy,” you replied with a shrug. “Why have you been watching me like this? Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then?”
Ghost sighed under the mask and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He was toying with it for a few moments, his eyes focused on the item instead of you. “You’re causing me quite a few sleepless nights, Rabid,” he muttered as he pulled out a cigarette from the box. He called you by the nickname that awful general had given you a few months back, and you knew he never did that without a good reason. 
What were you supposed to say to that? I’m sorry? No, that wouldn’t be right. So you chose to be careful with your next words. “You can’t sleep?” you asked him, genuinely interested. 
“Not when all I can think about is you and what I’ve done to you,” he replied quietly. 
“Why, what have you done to me?”
He shook his head, mumbled something like ‘fuck it’, then pulled his mask to his nose and lit the cigarette. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him getting in trouble for this. Price would be angry, because he believed if he could refrain from lighting a cigar indoors, so could others. So now that Ghost was inhaling the smoke with closed eyes, you didn’t know what to do or say. He would eventually speak up, right? 
Just when you were beginning to think he wouldn’t talk to you, his amber eyes landed on you and he said, “I sent you in there. You got hurt because of me.”
Soap had been right, he really did blame himself. Interesting. “Ghost, that wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. “Shit happens, it comes with the job. Don’t blame yourself.”
His free hand moved to take yours in his, and his long, thick, and gloved fingers wrapped around it gently. “I’m not blaming myself for you getting hurt, I know it comes with the job. I just can’t stop thinking about the what ifs. What if you died? What if you got so injured you would be discharged from the force? What if you were mad at me? What if you left me behind?” This last one made you raise an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered this after what happened,” he told you. 
“Never thought about leaving you behind,” you admitted. “You would mind? If I left and we never met again, I mean.”
Instead of answering, he raised your hand to his lips. “You and me… That would be quite a conversation, wouldn’t it? With your reputation and mine… Well,” he said, and you could see the shining in his eyes that gave away he was smiling. 
It took you a minute to realize he was talking about the two of you being in a romantic relationship. He was right, this would be huge. You were also a lieutenant, he wasn’t your superior, but people feared you both for different reasons. Ghost was… Ghost. All he had to do was stare at someone for five seconds and they would run away screaming. You, on the other hand, were feared because you were unpredictable. One wrong word and you would be at the poor bastard’s throat. 
So yeah. If there was anything to know, people wouldn’t shut up about it. You wondered if he was aware of the bets recruits were making about you. If there was anyone from base you slept with, it would be Ghost according to most of them. Maybe they were right. Maybe that was bound to happen. But maybe Ghost was taking part in the bet for fun. 
“I don’t care about that bet,” he suddenly spoke up. You were terrified for a moment since you had no idea how he figured out what you were just talking about. “I care about you. Would you mind if I kissed you?” 
You were too stunned to respond, all you could think about was the fact he dared to ask you this. You weren’t that close, not with him keeping a comfortable distance all the time. “Right now? Yeah, I would mind. Let’s just get to know each other first, yeah? Maybe over a drink.”
Ghost placed a soft kiss on your hand. “Anything you want,” he told you with a smile before pulling down the mask and getting rid of the remains of his cigarette. 
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Text
Billy and his songbird || Billy the kid x singer!reader
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Summary: Billy is captivated to say the least when he watches you perform on stage.
Warnings: none that I can think of
Wc: 983
A/n: crap summary but I've always wanted to do a crossover between tbosas and btk lol. this was so fun to make, ALSO nothing you can take from me has to be one of the top three songs on the soundtrack along with pure as the driven snow and the ballad of lucy gray baird. I SAID WHAT I SAID.
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Divider by @pommecita
The sun hung low on the western horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty streets of the small frontier town. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked as a lone figure stepped inside, his silhouette framed by the fading light.
The murmurs and laughter of the patrons hushed for a moment as they turned their attention to the newcomer. The dimly lit room flickered with the warm glow of oil lamps, and the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke.
The stranger, a tall and lean figure wearing a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes, scanned the room before his gaze settled on you. A slow grin crept across his face as recognition sparked in his eyes.
You were unaware of Billy’s gaze with your back turned to the crowd as you tuned your guitar ready for your performance for the night.
Billy looked around, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto a familiar face: Jesse Evans. The two had esse crossed paths many times before, sometimes as allies and sometimes as adversaries, but tonight, it seemed like old times.
“Billy!” Jesse called out, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Thought you were avoiding us. Billy smirked and tipped his hat as he approached Jesse and the others at a table near the corner that had a good view of the stage. “Just needed a bit of a break, Jesse. Couldn’t resist the allure of Sante Fe and the atmosphere ‘round here.”
Jesse slaps Billy’s back, “Well, you came on a good day, kid. Y/n’s singing tonight.“ He cocks his head to you on the stage as Billy’s eyes roam your figure. “Jesse leaned in toward Billy. “You know, we used to get mighty excited whenever we heard she was performing. She’s got a voice that can make even the toughest outlaw shed a tear.”
Billy raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Is that right? Well, I reckon I’ll have to hear it for myself.”
Jesse smirks at his friend as Billy catches on to his smirk with a roll of his eyes. “How’s everyone’s night goin’?” You speak in the mic as the saloon erupts in loudness, a few cheers, whistles and the sound of hands hitting tables, showcasing their feelings.
You chuckle, “Good, good, that’s what I like to hear,” a mischievous glint flashed across Billy’s eyes as he hears Jesse chuckles beside him, a playful nudge to his stomach.
“Oh! Is that bottle there for me?” Your eyes widen the slightest as you see one of the locals walk over to you with a flask in hand. “Of course, doll,” Cal grins up at you as the crowd loudens. “Oh, come on, ya’ll. You know I gave up drinking when I was 12,” You playfully wink.
The crowd erupted in laughter and amusement at your customary banter. Billy found himself captivated by your charm. “It’s to clear my piles, ya’ll. To clear my pipes” You assure them jokingly, throwing the flask back to the crowd with a grin.
You turn your head to give a sign to your band to start the song you prepared. The crowd hushed, waiting for the music to start, “You can’t take my past,” your bandmates start off, “you can’t take my history,” the crowd was silent in awe as they listen to the melodic voices that filled the space.
“You could take my pa,” “but his name’s a mystery.” You take a step forward to the mic, “Nothin’ you can take from me was ever worth keeping” your eyes flutter shut as you hear a few whoops from the crowd.
“Oh, nothing you can take,” your eyes open and Billy swore he saw them sparkle, “was ever worth keeping,” the corner of your mouth tips up to form a small smirk as the upbeat song comes to life causing an eruption of cheers from the patrons.
You wore a huge smile on your face as your fingers skilfully strum your guitar. “C’mon!” You encourage the already hyped up crowd full of cowboys and cowgirls; your boot tapping on the wooden stage as they clap along, already boosting your adrenaline.
“Can’t take my charm. Can’t take my humour. Can’t take my wealth, cause it’s just a rumour.” The way you effortlessly and gracefully twirled around the stage, your voice and stage presence mesmerising and commanding everyone’s attention—Billy was truly and utterly enchanted—you, the enchanter.
“Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,” Billy couldn’t help but feel his head lightly bopping to the beat, his eyes looking around to see everyone else just as captivated by your presence.
You were having the time of your life, like always whenever you sang, your heart pumping with adrenaline, “Thinkin’ your so fine. Thinkin’ you could have mine.”
Billy couldn’t help but be enchanted by your performance. He leaned against the wall, a half-smile playing on his lips as he watched you sing. Jesse and his gang, too, were caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. It seemed like everyone in the saloon, regardless of their affiliations, was having a great time.
“Thinkin’ you’re in control. Thinkin’ you’ll change me, maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal.” Your eyes roam around the practically full saloon before you lock eyes with none other than Billy the Kid in the corner.
You saw him a few hours prior from a distance, but that was it. Now, his blue irises were staring straight at you, his lips lightly upturned as his finger taps along to the beat of the music, your fingers still dancing over your guitar strings, not missing a beat.
You both stared at each for what seemed liked hours but was merely a few seconds; and, for those few seconds, something unspoken passed between you.
A playful smile made it to your lips before you tore your eyes away from Billy’s. “Can’t take my sass. Can’t take my talkin’,” Billy’s watches your figure as you move across the stage, leaning forward to the crowd, “you can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’,”
An amused expression flashed over Billy’s face, “She’s good isn’t she, Billy?” Jesse shouts over the loud music as Billy chuckles, nodding his head. “She’s somethin’ alright. A songbird.” Jesse snorts at him, “a songbird, huh?” he echoes as Billy’s eyes fall back onto the stage that you controlled.
“Nothin’ you can take from me is worth dirt.” Your eyes lock with one another, “take it ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.” Your eyebrow lightly cocks at his direction as Billy’s lips parted. It seemed as if it was only the two of you in the saloon, everyone fading in the background.
The crowd falls into a hush, sensing the end of the song, “Nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’. No, nothin’ you can take was ever worth keepin’.” The upbeat tempo once again affiliated the saloon as the pleasantly surprised patrons clapped, danced, and tapped along to the catchy beat of the song.
When the song reached its crescendo, you finished with a flourish, your fingers dancing over the guitar strings. Everyone in the saloon cheered and whistled, and you couldn’t help but bow, acknowledging the appreciation.
“Ya’ll have a good night, thank you!” You exclaim into the mic before turning around and packing up your equipment. “We’re havin’ a drink, join us?” Annie, your bandmate comes up to you, placing her hand on your shoulder.
You smile up at her, “Thanks, Annie. I’ll come join you guys later.” As you stand back up, you lock eyes with Jesse Evans. You were well acquainted with the man, the two of you hanging out whenever you were free. He was sat a table with Billy, his gang the next table over.
He beckoned you with a smile as you reciprocate it, signalling to him that you’d be there in a sec. “Hey, sweetheart,” Cal drawled, obviously drunk as he had a cigarette in between his lips.
“Hey there, Cal. Enjoying yourself?” You politely smile at him as her offers to hold your hand as you descend the stage stairs—although you were quite capable of walking down yourself.
“Wanna join me for a drink, eh?” “Uh-“ “-what do ya say?” Your eyes lock with Billy’s who was staring you down. “Thank you for the offer, Cal. But I’m gonna have to decline,” You quickly say as your feet quickly moved away, leaving him there.
“Popular, ain’t ya?” Jesse chuckles, moving the seat back beside him for you. “Mind sharin’ a drink with us?” He pats the seat as your eyes flicker between him and Billy. You returned the smile, taking a seat between Billy and Jesse “I’m a busy girl but I’ll make time for ya. Always a pleasure to share good company,” you playfully wink at Jesse as you hear Billy softly chuckle.
“Lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Bonney,” You extend your hand out gracefully as he looks down at it before looking back at you with a smile. “Please, the pleasure is all mine.”
The conversation flowed as freely as the whiskey, and soon, the saloon was filled with the sounds of camaraderie. You found yourself in the middle of it all, laughing at Jesse's stories, clinking glasses with the gang, and sharing glances with Billy that spoke volumes.
"It was Billy's first time here watching your perform y'know," Jesse pipes up, his glass of whisky close to his lips before he throws his head back as you look at Billy who was already looking at you. "What'd you think 'bout my performance Billy?"
Billy pretends to ponder, rubbing his jaw as you giggle. "What can I say, darlin'? You were great out there. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you," he admits as you grin at his bluntness.
As the evening drew to a close, Jesse stood and stretched. "Well, Billy, it's been a pleasure catchin' up with you. But we've got a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."
Billy nodded, his gaze lingering on you. "I reckon it's time for me to hit the trail as well. But before I go, there's somethin' I've been meanin' to ask." You looked at him, curiosity in your eyes. "Ask away."
Billy hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Would you mind if I walked you home? It's not every day a man gets to meet a singer as talented as you." You smiled, touched by the slightly expected request, you nodded with a gracious smile. "I'd be delighted, Billy."
As you and Billy stepped out into the cool night air, the distant sounds of the bustling saloon faded, leaving only the soft murmur of the wind and the occasional creak of a swinging sign. The moon cast a gentle glow on the empty streets as the two of you walked side by side.
"Quite a night, wouldn't you say?" Billy remarked, his tone a mix of charm and genuine admiration. You hummed. "Never thought I'd find myself walking home with an infamous outlaw." You smirked as Billy reciprocated it, "Life's full of surprises, darlin'," he tips his hat.
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bunnylovesani · 4 months
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Daddy Issues
(This is what I imagine him looking like in this fic)
Content warnings: MDNI, reader has daddy issues, 20 year age gap, Anakin is your best friend’s dad, drinking, fingering, dirty talk, general smut with a bit of fluff
WC: 2.6k
You and Leia met in your first year of college and your friendship quickly blossomed. Despite being from the same town, you’d never bumped into each other. If you had, you’re sure you would’ve remembered him. The first time you’d met him was Christmas, 4 years ago; it was your first time coming round to the Skywalker residence and all you knew was that Leia was raised by a single dad, who was now in his 40s. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were fascinated. He had dark blonde hair which curled into golden ringlets at the ends and a mysterious quality about him you were sure made the women weak at the knees- how he’d managed to stay single for most of his life was beyond you.
Despite your fervent initial attraction to him, you tried your best to put all of it aside. Besides the obvious reasons to restrain yourself, he was also the first positive male figure you’d had in your life. He was a damn good father; always present in Leia’s life and, since you two were joined at the hip, by extension yours too. You ignored every sign, every impulse, every sizzling moment of tension that came between you two- tension you naturally assumed was one sided- he’s a decent, respectable man after all.
You had it all under control- until you received a call confirming the graduate program you’d applied for months ago had been accepted. The subsequent week was spent getting daydrunk while hesitantly packing your entire life into a van full of brown boxes- or rather, directing Leia to do it for you since you were too inebriated. It all boiled down to your final night; one last night in the suburbs you’d felt suffocated by your entire life before you moved to the big city to start your shiny new life.
So why did you feel sad? You suspected you knew the reason but spent the better half of an evening denying it and battling the growing urge to pay him a visit. Eventually, when the reality that you were about to leave him forever sunk in, you found your feet taking you out the door of their own volition. Preparing to ambush him with the help of some liquid courage you’d choked down prior to leaving, you rung the doorbell of his house for what you thought may be the last time.
“Oh, hey honey. Leia just left to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house, you just missed her. I thought you’d already said your goodbyes?”. He innocently questions as he opens the door and lets you in.
“I know, it’s you I came to say goodbye to.” You say anxiously, staring at him intensely through your lashes.
“I see, I’m honoured.” He smiles and approaches you, pulling you into a hug. “Good luck with everything sweetheart, stay safe and above all- remember to have fun! Life passes you by in an instant and one day you’ll wake up as old as I am and kick yourself for not grabbing every opportunity you had.”
“Funny you say that, Sir. That’s the exact mantra I’ve adopted recently. Fuck it, right?” You help yourself to the glass of whiskey he was holding out of his hand and take a sip.
“Can I sit with you for a little while?” You plop onto his cushioned couch before he can reply.
“Erm, yeah of course, make yourself at home.” He says welcomingly, though with a perplexed expression on his slightly wrinkled face. “Are you okay?” He wonders if there’s a reason you’re acting so strange. You don’t usually drink.
“I’m great, thank you Sir.” You bat your lashes. “Just feeling sentimental with the circumstances and all.”
“How many times have I said, call me Anakin. I know I’m old but after so many years I’d say we’re on a first name basis.” He chuckles, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance. “I know I’m nothing much to you but I really do think of you and Leia as my girls. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” He says endearingly, smiling at you kindly.
That’s when you’re reminded of the reason you came here tonight. You had every intention of telling him how you truly felt, how you’d had a raging crush on him from the moment you met him- and now that you might never see him again, you saw no reason why you shouldn’t act on those feelings.
But hearing him compare you to his daughter filled a hole you felt inside you ever since your father abandoned you- while simultaneously making you feel sick to your stomach.
You stared into his warm eyes, encased with crows feet and accompanied by two prominent creases on his forehead. You shouldn’t find a man of his age so attractive but you do.
“You know, I don’t think you’re old.” You state simply.
“What?” He asks somewhat confused by your meaning.
“You said one day I’ll wake up as old as you. I don’t think you’re old at all. If anything, you’re in your prime.” You look away. “You’re not nothing to me either.”
He looks visibly stunned, though he tries to mask it by refilling a glass of whiskey, the brown liquid almost spilling everywhere.
“Right back at you, kid. Well I’m sure you’ve got a lot of packing to do so I won’t keep you. You need a ride?” He shuffles in his seat.
“No. Not the kind of ride you’re thinking of anyway.” A wave of boldness overcomes you and you feel the alcohol burning through your veins as you shuffle closer to him.
“Uh, I think that whiskey’s gone straight to your head. Why don’t I get you some water?” He’s about to get up but you grab him by the hand and force him to stay seated, holding onto it longer than necessary.
“You know how I feel about you Anakin. I know you know.” You stare deep into his mature blue eyes as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with an apprehensive gulp.
“Now that’s enough young lady. You absolutely should not be thinking about me in that way. I’m almost twice your age.” He sternly warns you and you can’t help but wince. The way he’s scolding you is triggering some deep rooted daddy issues. You knew you always had them to some extent but you never knew just how bad they were until you met Anakin.
“I dont mean to make you uncomfortable, I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’ll leave right now if you want me to, you’ll never see me again. Just tell me you don’t feel anything towards me and I’ll be on my way.” You’re huddled over him with your legs on the sofa, hand slowly inching its way towards his thigh.
A flash of conflicting emotions run through his eyes- he’s obviously embarrassed, perhaps shocked - though you find it hard to believe he had no clue at all- but there’s something else. He’s debating with himself, you can see the cogs whirring in his mind.
“I can’t say that.” He meets your gaze. “I care about you a lot, you know that. Which is why you need to leave. You’re not in the right state of mind.” He gets up again but you pull him down and climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I have been in love with you for 4 years, Anakin. You are my every waking thought. I know it’s wrong and you’d never be with me but I can’t control myself. If I can’t have you forever, let me have just this one night- please.” You wait for him to object to the way you’re sitting on him but to your surprise, he doesn’t.
“Alright, honey.” He grumbles softly after a little while, looking at you with a subdued expression that conveyed both concern and understanding. “Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll give you what you want. I’m yours for the night.”
You sit there, stunned. You were fully expecting him to kick you out of the house and tell Leia everything. You were expecting anything other than him giving in. Is he just taking pity on you and thinks this will help you get over your daddy issues? He knows you have them. Or is he as sick and twisted as you are?
“Can…can I…” You lean in, pressing your fingertips against his lips.
“Leave it all to me sweetheart. Daddy will make it all better.” He wastes no time taking your hands into his own and kissing your fingertips softly, before pressing his lips against yours.
You’re too stunned to react so you allow him to kiss your motionless lips, your eyes still wide open in disbelief. You’d never been so grateful to someone for taking the lead.
“Close those pretty eyes for me baby, you’re safe now.” He kisses your eyelids softly and his gentle caresses awaken a deep urge within you.
You grab at his collared shirt, loosening his tie and unbuttoning it. “Been working more late nights at the office?” You mumble into his lips as you push the crisp white shirt off his shoulders, leaving his muscles exposed.
“That’s because I have two women in my life who bleed me dry.” He chuckles and you smile at the memory; he’s shelled out for you on more than one occasion- from plane tickets and birthday gifts to a new MacBook for college because your one broke and you couldn’t afford another since you’d been fired from your waitressing job- he even agreed that that guy deserved to get a drink thrown in his face for grabbing you. He said that if he were there, he would’ve done worse.
Before you freefall into a psychoanalytical hole, Anakin rips your skirt off - it’s as if he can hear your mind working overtime. You gasp a little as he kneads the fat of your ass cheeks roughly, guiding you until you’re grinding against him. You can feel him getting hard, and oh did it feel big. You’d stolen subtle glances at his crotch on numerous occasions, contemplating what it might look like, what colour the tip might be, what it might taste like. You couldn’t bare to be left in the dark any longer so you reached for his belt and impatiently started undoing it- but you were stopped by his large hands cupping yours.
“Not just yet princess. I wanna take my time with you.” He whispered coarsely and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. Before you knew it, he had spun you around so that you were sitting on his lap with your back facing his front. He traced his tongue in big open kisses along your neck while his hands trailed up and down your thighs, before he hooked his fingers around your panties.
“Lets get these off shall we?” He purred and his words sent sparks straight down to your core. He lowered your underwear only down to your knees, before spreading your legs a little, his hand placed under one of your thighs to keep it up. You felt the cold air hit you and knew instantly that you were soaked.
You breathing was reduced to short little pants as his fingers reached the inner folds of your pussy, and it felt like every caress touched your soul. You started squirming about in his lap as two of his fingers slid into you.
“Goddamn… oh baby, I didnt even mean for that to happen but you’re just so wet they slipped right in.” You mewled at his lustful words as he curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your clit with the base of his thumb.
“Oh Ani…ah fuck!.” You cried. “Anakin!”
“Yes sweetheart, what is it?” Gaining speed, he grabbed your cheeks with his free hand and turned your head to force you to look at him but you were too stimulated to respond.
“Do you hear how wet you are? And here I thought you were a good girl.” He maintains eye contact and your cheeks flush at the lewd sounds coming from your core. You take a glance and see his hand is glistening with your arousal, wetness squelching as it pours down to the Rolex on his wrist.
“Aah…I, I’m sorry daddy! Mm can’t help it” You manage to squeal out, embarassed by how wet and helpless he made you.
“Don’t you dare apologise sweetheart. Daddy loves how wet this pussy gets. Is this all for me?”
“Yes, yes Sir it’s all for you- mm all yours!” You moan as you feel your climax fast approaching. “Please can I cum? Pleasee daddy!”
“Yes princess, cum for me.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you at such a tempo you have to hold onto his arms for stability.
As if someone opened a dam, your orgasm washes over you and you let out a stupified scream- you wanted to say his name but your brain is so scrambled all you can manage is a mumbled moan of incoherent syllables.
“Such a good girl baby, well done honey.” He plants kisses all over your cheek and neck as your heart rate climbs down.
As you come down from your high, the realisation of what you’re doing dawns on you. As if he could read your mind, he takes your face into his hands.
“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? If you think you’ll regret it, tell me now. I don’t think I could handle it if we made love and you woke up regretting it.” He speaks softly, as if being too harsh might scare you away.
“No, no it’s not you.” You quickly respond. “I just feel a little cheap. I don’t ever have one night stands so I’m kinda out of my depth here… and the guilty thoughts about Leia creeping up on me don’t help either.”
“Hey, you’re not cheap.” You scoff at his attempt to reassure you. “Stop that, I mean it. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you regardless of the outcome of this. But…I mean I’m out of my depth here too. If we’re being honest, I haven’t had sex in years.” Anakin admits and your jaw drops. How could a man this damn fine not get laid for that long?
“It’s a personal choice.” He corrects before you jump to any conclusions about what might be wrong with him. “I don’t like one night stands either and if I’m not in love, I have no real interest in sex.” Your heart leaps at the insinuation- if he’s willing to sleep with you, that must mean…right?
“So let’s not have a one night stand then.” He continues and your heart drops. I guess you thought wrong.
“Let’s keep seeing each other. I ache all over at the thought of this being the last time I see you. I need you in my life. I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care what people say. Leia will come round to the idea eventually, she has to.”
“I love you.” You reply a little too quickly, staring at him with so much admiration you think your heart might burst.
“I love you too, my sweet girl.”
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Part 2
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zapreportsblog · 6 months
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❝army of ivarrsons❞
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✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader
✭ fandom : vikings
✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”
✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again
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The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.
"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"
Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."
Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.
Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.
"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."
Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.
She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."
The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.
Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.
And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.
The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.
Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.
"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.
As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.
Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.
"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."
The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."
The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."
Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"
(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."
The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.
Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.
(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."
The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.
Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."
(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."
The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.
Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."
(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."
The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.
Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.
(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."
Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.
Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.
The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.
Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."
Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.
"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."
Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"
While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).
It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.
Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.
Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.
Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.
As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.
The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.
As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.
"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."
(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."
In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.
The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.
As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.
Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.
But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.
Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).
Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.
The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.
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