#good god George. are there enough songs on this??
Note
all things must pass 🎶
(also sending love and hugs 💕)
thank you sweetheart hugging you back ❤️
1// I'd Have You Anytime
Let it say it, let me play it /
Let me lay it on you
2// My Sweet Lord
I really wanna see you Lord, but it takes so long
3// Wah-Wah
And I know how sweet life can be /
If I keep myself free
4// Isn't It A Pity
And because of all the tears /
Their eyes can't hope to see /
The beauty that surrounds them
5// What is Life
What I know, I can do /
If I give my love out to everyone like you
6// If Not For You
The winter would hold no spring /
Couldn't hear a robin song
7// Behind That Locked Door
It's time we start smiling /
What else should we do?
With only this short time /
I'm gonna be here with you
8// Let It Down
I see your eyes are busy kissing mine /
and I do, I do /
Wondering what it is they're expecting to see /
Should someone be looking at me
9// Run of the Mill
As the days stand up on end /
You've got me wondering how I lost your friendship /
But I see it in your eyes
10// Beware of Darkness
Watch out now, take care beware of greedy leaders /
They take you where you should not go /
While weeping Atlas Cedars /
They just want to grow, grow, and grow
11// Apple Scruffs
In the fog and in the rain /
Through the pleasures and the pain/
On the step outside you stand /
With your flowers in your hand, my Apple Scruffs
12// Ballad of Sir Frankie Crisp (Let it Roll)
See the Lord and all the mouths he feeds /
Let it roll among the weeds
13// Awaiting on You All
If you open up your heart /
You'll see he's right there /
He always was and will be /
To relieve you of all your cares
14// I Dig Love
Left love, right love, anywhere love /
There's a rare love /
Come on and get it, it's free
15// Art of Dying
There'll come a time when most of us return here /
Brought back by our desire to be the perfect entity
16// Isn't it a Pity (v2)
[same as above]
17// Hear Me Lord
Help me Lord please to rise a little higher /
Help me Lord please to burn out this desire
[Apple Jams not included 🍏]
#the intention of this is not lost on me so thank you 💕#this gave me such a flashback to 2017#good god George. are there enough songs on this??#album asks
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Queen Bee-atch III (Regina George x reader)
These chapters have been up on ao3 and wattpad but I figured i'd put them here as well.
Warnings: Cursing, use of F-slur but its kind of stupid so dont worry
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“You look like hell.” It was Thursday and Janis had invited you over. “Thanks,” you mumble out while pushing past her into her house. You could navigate her house blind, it's basically your second home now. You go into her room and flop straight into her bed. “You still having trouble sleeping?” Janis asks while plopping down onto the floor. She was surrounded by music sheets and crumpled up paper, her guitar on the ground next to her. You sluggishly sit up and look at her, “Yeah, I just can’t stop thinking.” “About what?” “Nothing, I don’t know,” You push the palms of your hands against your eyes.
You and Janis have weekly jam sessions. Chilling with your best friend and learning new songs to play together was your favorite pastime. Damien joins occasionally and sings along since you and Janis can’t sing for shit. At least you think so.
“Let’s just find a song then you can nap on my bed or something.” Janis proposes. Getting up, you pick up the acoustic guitar at the corner of the room and make your way to where she was seated. This week was your turn to pick a song.
“You’ll love this song. I discovered it recently and-”
“It’s Alex G again, isn't it? The chords he uses are so weird!”
“Yeah but-”
“Please tell me you have another song.”
You sigh, “I really thought you’d agree to that one. Let’s just play ‘Where is Your Mind’ or something.”
Janis is tuning her guitar when you get a text from your mother.
-We’re going shopping. I expect you to be at the mall in 20 minutes.-
You groan and lay your whole body onto the ground. “I know I’m already here but can I get a raincheck on the session? My mom is dragging me to go shopping” You sigh while getting up. “Yeah, no worries.” Janis replies, unbothered. God you really needed to sleep.
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“Seriously, mother?” Your mom was holding up a pink shirt with ‘baby gurlz’ plastered on the front. She had dragged you to the mall to upgrade your wardrobe. You needed new clothes because, according to your mother, you looked like an ‘emo beggar’. Your mother rolls her eyes “You dress like a hobo that lives at Hot Topic, baby. No offense.” It’s been 3 hours since you came in and you hadn’t found anything you liked. You take the shirt out of her hands and place it back on the rack.
“Can we just go home? I have an English test tomorrow and I haven’t started studying.” The lie comes out easily. In reality, you just wanted to nap. It’s been 3 days and you’ve gotten a total of 2 hours of sleep. A sigh comes out of your mothers mouth, “You know what, go sit in the car, you’re wearing whatever I buy you. Your outfit is going to be on your desk tomorrow morning.” She could buy you a dinosaur onesie and you wouldn’t care, you just wanted to nap.
✮✮✮
Unsurprisingly, the nap plan didn’t work out. You passed out eventually though, an hour before school, but at least it was something. You were now at your locker, clad in a white crop-top and baby blue skirt that was way too short. You hadn’t actually realized what your mother had picked out until a wide-eyed Damien grabbed your shoulder and dragged you to the bathroom. “Girl, what are you wearing? Also, did you lose weight?” You look at Damien confused, until you turn to the mirror. “Oh what the f-”
“Damien? What poor girl did you drag- the fuck?” Janis looks at you in shock, Cady standing behind her, while you stare back equally mortified. “You look like a pastel emo, dude.” Janis says while walking up to you and spinning you around. You stomp your foot. “Stop! I already feel bad enough.” You whine while pushing Janis off you and turning back to the mirror. Damien walks up behind you and stops your hands that were pulling at your shirt. “Girl you got bod, and those clothes lowkey look good on you.” Your eye roll is interrupted by the bell ringing. Shit.
Your thoughts start going crazy as you’re walking to English class. God they can see my legs! They probably know you don’t usually wear skirts. They’re probably all like: ‘look at her. You know she usually doesn’t wear skirts?’
Before you know it, you're sitting at your desk in English class, looking at your notebook. When did you get here? Huh, time flies when you’re having fun. You’re giggling at your own joke when you hear someone clearing their throat next to you. Regina?
“Did you hear anything I just said? Are you even actually physically present? It’s like I’m talking to a wall.” Regina raises an eyebrow waiting for a response. “Oh uh, hi.” You mumble out pathetically. She lets out a mocking ‘hi’ before continuing, “Anyways, I’ll pick you up after school for our project.” Project? What? You look up at the board and finally notice the list of instructions written down for a book report you had to do, with details of the partners the teacher had assigned. How much of the class had passed? Your question is answered when the bell signaling the end of the period rings.
You stand up too fast and start swaying before Regina gets up and holds you by your waist to steady you. “Woah there, slow down babe,” She pauses and looks you up and down. She bends down slightly to stare directly into your eyes and taps your cheek, “Cute outfit. See you after school.”
She packs her things and walks past you into the hallway.
You really need to sleep.
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It's like the bottom of your skirt was a mountain climber the way it kept hiking up with every step you took. At least it's almost the end of the day. One more period and you'd be on your way home. You were dragging your feet across the hall when you felt a slap on your ass. You turn around to see one of the jocks ,that you couldn't for the life of you remember the name of, smirking down at you.
Curse him out! Why are you just standing there? Your mouth flops open and closed like a fish, trying to come up with a devastating insult.
"F-Faggot."
...What the fuck? Your eyes widened. Before you could properly process what you said, you were pushed up against a locker with the jock impossibly close to you. "Say that again, slut." He grits his teeth, pushing you further into the locker. You're suddenly released and a very angry Regina was holding him by his shirt collar. "Apologize to her." You'd hate to be on the receiving end of the glare she's giving him. He scoffs, "You've gotten soft, Regina. Anyways, I was just giving her a compliment!" Regina's eyes somehow harden even more. "If the next words that come out of your mouth aren't an apology, Shane. I swear to god." His confidence falters and he eventually mumbles out an apology. "Walk away, and take your micro-penis with you."
Regina hears a giggle from below her and her eyes soften as she sees you on the floor. She helps you up and adjusts your clothes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, it's whatever."
She stares at you for a second.
"Take out your phone."
"What? Why-"
She pulls your phone out of your hand.
"I'm putting in my number, idiot."
What?
"For the project? I'm picking you up after school, remember?"
"Oh yeah. Pfft. Totally."
Giving your phone back and rolling her eyes, she turns away and leaves. From the corner of your eye you catch Janis and Damien stomping over. "Dude, why were you talking to Regina? Also our plan is working, Caddy's growing on them." You look at Janis, confused before she continues, "You need to sleep dude. Whatever we have health together let's find Caddy and get to class." Damien puts his arm around you and you all start walking. "What were you talking about with Regina, by the way?" He questions while adjusting his arm around you, "We got paired up for a project. A book report or something." You avoid bringing up the fact that you got harassed.
You love Janis and Damien, truly, but they tend to be a little overprotective. "Hah! What a nightmare!" Janis laughs. You look down at the floor, your face turning slightly red, mumbling, "She isn't that bad." The conversation dies out as you approach the classroom, Cady greeting you at the door. "Hey! So, Aaron invited me to this Halloween party..." Cady's voice fades as you sit down and put your head down onto your desk.
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"Nice room, Blondie." You say, going further into Regina's room. She had been waiting for you outside the school in her convertible, making it impossible for you to get out of spending time with her. Despite her recent tolerability, you couldn't forget how she used to treat you.
Regina smiles, "Thanks, Y/N. It was my mom's but I made her trade it."
"Woah. 'Y/N'? Are you going soft on me, Blondie?"
"Shut up."
You walk around her room and spot a couple of vinyls. Green day? My Chemical Romance? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? The Strokes! What!
"Blondie, you have taste?"
Regina flips around and stomps towards you, taking the 'Stereophonics' vinyl out of your hands. "Stop going through my shit, Gerard." Back to square one.
She watches you adjust your skirt and pull at your shirt uncomfortably. Walking into her closet, she finds a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt she hadn't worn in years. You were awkwardly standing in the middle of her room before you felt a bunch of clothes hit your face.
The shock passes and you smile at her gratefully while she rolls her eyes and takes a seat at her desk. Should you go to her bathroom? Whatever, she's already seen you shirtless. Her face turns red while she pretends not to notice you changing in front of her. You finish up and take out your laptop, taking a seat on the floor. She swivels her chair to face you, "So, what book were you thinking?" You look up at her, slightly shocked. You didn't think she'd give you a choice.
"Oh. Uh. The Bell Jar?"
"Too bleak."
"It ends nicely though!"
"No! Pick something else."
"Okay, uh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation?" You propose with an eyebrow raised.
She glares at you.
"Are all the books you read just about mentally ill women?"
You sigh, "Pretty much. Oh! What about Matilda!"
She opens her mouth to argue, then pauses for a moment.
"Actually that doesn't sound too bad. Matilda it is."
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An hour passed before Regina looked up from her report and found you curled up on her floor, your laptop discarded to the side. After putting away your laptop, she approaches you and stares down at you. Hands on her hips, she looks around before letting out a breath and picking you up. "Gina?" You mumble out.
She shushes you and places you on her bed. "No. No, it's fine. I have to finish the report." Attempting to sit up, you whine when she pushes you back onto her bed. "We have a week till it's due. Rest." She leaves no room to argue as she tucks you in. "No! Oh wow. Your bed is so comfortable." Your eyes start drifting close and the last thing you see is Regina placing a kiss on your head.
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"I mean I've been dressing up as a mouse since freshman year, why would I change now?" Karen's voice takes you out of your blissful slumber. How long have you been asleep? "You're barely even a mouse, Karen." You could hear Gretchen reply. The sun had started setting, from what you could tell. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and looking around the room. Gretchen and Karen were sitting on the floor while Cady was laying above the sheets next to you. "Hey sleepyhead!" Cady pinches your cheek and tackles you when you try to push her away. She straddles your waist and starts tickling you. "Dude!...Stop!" You say in between giggles.
"What's going on here?" Regina must've been in the bathroom, "Finally up? I was getting ready to call the funeral house, Gerard." She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top. You accidentally glance down at her chest and turn away quickly, blushing, unaware of Regina's knowing smirk. She must've changed when you wear asleep.
Cady finally stops her assault on you. "Ha. Ha" You roll your eyes, moving to get up when Cady grabs your arm and pulls you back down, "Did you wrestle a bear or something?" Looking down to see what she was talking about, you notice a huge hand shaped bruise on your shoulder. You can feel everybody's eyes on you. "Oh, I fell during PE. It's nothing" You shrug her hand away and rub your shoulder, walking towards the walk-in closet, ignoring Regina's eyes burning a hole in your back. Bending down to pick up your clothes, a bright pink book catches your attention.
"Hey. Why didn't you tell Cady about Shane- No!" Regina's eyes widen as rushes towards you and pulls the book out of your hand. It's too late, your page had been the first one you found when you opened the book. Standing up, your voice wavers, "Thank you for being so accommodating, I'll get out of your hair now." You bump your shoulder into her getting out of the closet, hurting yourself more than her.
The silence that followed after you slammed the door on your way out was loud. Regina plops down next to Karen and Gretchen, Cady following after her. Running her hands through her hair, Regina sighs and stares at her bedroom door.
"Fuck."
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#regina george x reader#regina george imagine#mean girls imagines#mean girls 2024#fanfic#wlw#regina george#mean girls#renee rapp#renee rapp x reader#regina george x you#mean girls the musical#regina george is a lesbian#wlw fiction#regina george icons
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don’t fuck the line cooks. part two – matty healy
ever since that night in the walk-in, you can only think about the next time. hopefully if you push and prod him enough, you’ll get your way…
warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation, public sex, drug use, sex under the influence, degradation, choking, overstimulation, dom/sub dynamics, authority kink, problematic age gap problematic age gaping, sleazy man is even sleazier in this somehow
part two of two
18,294 words
You lick the salt off the back of your hand, shooting the cheap tequila, immediately wincing from the taste and worsening it with a bite of tart lime. You shake your head, hoping to flick acid off your tongue.
“God,” you say for good measure. “I can’t seem to get used to this.”
Beside you, Veronica laughs, eating the lime off the rind. She gives you a green smile, features uncrinkled. She is used to this. “It’ll come with age.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re only four years older than me.”
“Yeah, but you were severely stunted for the twenty-one first years of your life, so the difference is staggering.”
“Ar-ar. You’re hilarious.”
“I know.” She flicks the lime rind on the counter, a disheveled green skin rid of meat. She licks the leftover salt off her lips— with some of her bright red lipstick, too. She grabs your wrist next, shimmying her shoulders as she reels you from the bar. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”
“My feet hurt,” you pout in mock-protest, but your limbs are loose from the booze and you’re easily whisked away to the dancefloor.
The Darling is the nearest bar from the restaurant with the cheapest alcohol. It’s a dirty thing, drenched in obscurity and the occasional neon sign, smelling like sweat and cigarettes, and sticky to walk on. It plays the same songs over and over again— every night for the past decade, the same playlist booms from the speakers. You know the tunes by heart now, screaming the lyrics without a single title coming to mind.
The Darling is where everyone crashes after shift drinks, itching for a bigger buzz and a dance. Your coworkers crowd the place, talking to the bartenders like old friends, familiarly finding the labyrinthine way to the toilets. (Find the bar, take a turn to your right, follow a dark corridor, beside the kitchen to the left.)
You’re sore and tired from a double, a neck vein nearly popped when a customer dared ask for—no, insist on a steak half rare-half medium on each side uncut. Dread filled you when you approached the kitchen, putting on a dazzling smile to transmit the ridiculous request. Sighs, and swears, and that shake of head that makes his curls bounce filled the room as he got to work, frustrated and pissed, but obedient still.
Him. You spin on your feet, finding Matty still at the bar, sipping on a dark drink with George. You smile, eyes twinkling, detaching yourself from your friend as you sway towards him. You practically fall on his side— his hand catches you at your waist, near your hip, decidedly inappropriate, but instinctive.
“Hullo,” you say in a poor imitation of their accents. George snorts. “Watcha drinking?” You ask Matty, scrunching your nose.
He arches an eyebrow, sliding the glass towards you. “Have a taste.” You grab it without hesitating, knocking a mouthful and immediately regretting it. You cough, shaking your head. That’s straight liquor. Matty laughs, soothingly rubbing a hand on your back. “You okay?”
“What is wrong with you?”
“Aw, princess,” he coos, taking a sip of his whiskey and not even twitching as the bitter taste washes his mouth. “You’ll like it when you’re older.”
Again, you roll your eyes. Taking an easy dig at your age when he’s been between your thighs some nothing-days ago is hypocritical. The retort burns your tongue, but you bite it back for present company. Matty looks at you a little gleefully, like he knows, like it amuses him.
You turn to George with a smile. “What about you? Are you drinking something sane?”
He snorts. “Just a rum and coke, sweets. I’m afraid it’s not very special.”
You reach for his drink anyway and he offers it gladly, metal rings around the cool glass. You tip it, smiling at the sweetness, licking it off your lips. “George, you have much better taste.”
“Hey!”
“I know.”
“Order me a drink, will you?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. As though you would even need the extra persuasion; he’s already shouting a drink at a bartender, putting it on Matty’s tab with a point of a thumb.
Matty rolls his eyes beside you, his fingers digging into your waist in warning. Something low simmers between your legs. You smirk to yourself. You like the feel of that.
“There you go,” George says, passing you the orange drink that’s been slapped on the counter. “A sweet drink for a sweet girl.”
You smile gratefully at him, tasting it. It’s fruity and light; your lips stretch up. “Thanks, George.”
“‘Course.”
Ross crashes in your group, swinging an arm over George’s shoulder, clearly smashed. “Mate, they fixed the PacMan machine.”
“No way. Is my score still on it?”
“DICKH3AD bright and red!” With a laugh, the two of them whisk away to the arcade game, off somewhere to the left, tucked between two tables.
You’re alone with Matty now. A thrill resonates within you— it’s silly. It’s not like he’s gonna bend you over this bar and take you right this moment, in front of anyone. It’s not like he’s done anything of the sort since the walk-in fridge. Still, you spin to face him, arching an eyebrow, practically inviting him to.
He sees the meaning tacked onto your eyelashes, clear as day, yet he does nothing but grin to himself, taking a sip of his awful whiskey on rocks.
You huff, opting for another strategy. “Are you upset I asked George to order me a drink?” You try instead, hoping to prod and poke until he snaps again— finally.
Matty smirks. “I’d have picked something lighter. Little girl like you can’t handle her liquor yet.” He pouts, “She’s just started drinking.” Your fingers grip around the glass, something hot and shameful dripping inside of you.
“Why? Have plans for me I can’t be drunk for?”
Matty leans back on his stool, properly looking at you. His gaze licks up your naked legs, your short skirt, your white top. Your heart beats twice as fast. Subconsciously, you straighten, needing to be taller, older, more mature. To satisfy, to excel.
“If I said yes, would you not drink it?” His eyes flick to the orange glass between your clenched hands. It’s barely sipped, condensation running on your fingers. He meets your gaze next. There’s a game of chess, and you can’t seem to figure out what he wants. How to win.
You want to win. You need to win. You feel it throbbing between your legs, that desperate urge.
You drop the glass on the counter. It clinks on the wood, then settles, pretty and discarded. His turn.
Matty smiles, satisfied. He stands from his stool, and a surge of excitement shoots up your spine. You don’t need the alcohol when you have him anyway.
Matty leans in, then pats your shoulder. “The boys are waiting for me.” He sidesteps you, then gets lost into the crowd. You watch him go, mouth parted in offense and disbelief.
What a fucking dickhead. You make a low noise of annoyance, taking your glass and slurping half of it down in rebellion. You march to one of the empty booths, rage twisting your guts.
You just want him to fuck you. It’s been five days. What is he waiting for?
You slide into the sticky bench, ruminating in your anger as you chew on the plastic blue straw of your cocktail.
“Hey,” Landon, a server, nods at you as he pulls into the opposite side of the booth. You nod back. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’m growing tired of The Darling’s playlist.”
“Take two shots. It’ll be back.”
“Sage advice.” He tips his chin towards your drink. “Are you taking revenge for turtles or has this straw personally wronged you?”
You sigh, letting go of the plastic, pushing the glass away from you. “It’s killed my family. Arson, you see? It was brutal.”
“I would offer my condolences, but that would mean my boss is dead, and I’m not the biggest fan of his. Would a muted hooray be acceptable?”
You huff, smirking at him. “Bold of you to tell the boss’ daughter.”
“Well, I’m quite drunk.”
You smile. “I’ll cheer to that.” You knock your empty glass to his beer mug.
Landon gasps. “In the eyes,” he chastises. “Or it’s seven years of bad sex.” You laugh, opening your eyes comically wide to cheer him next. You’ve just broken the curse. You’re not about to be pulled back into mediocre hookups now. “Better,” he nods, finally taking a sip of his beer.
You haven’t talked to Landon much before, nothing other than pleasantries and the quick quips exchanged between two tables. You quickly find that he’s funny, pulling snorting laughs out of your tipsy mouth as he recounts some of his worst customer stories like grand, epic tales. He offers sips of his beer graciously, then buys you your own when the supply is diminishing. You don’t even like beer, but you accept the gift nonetheless, letting the awful taste fizz in your mouth and slacken your head.
A hand over your mouth, you half-hide your laugh as it bursts out of you. “I can’t believe you would say that!”
“And I got fired for it,” Landon argues, screaming a defense.
“Well, obviously—”
“What’s the funny story?” Both of you jump in surprise at the intruder. Turning towards the voice, you find Matty sliding in the booth next to you.
Already, he takes his place like he owns it, spreading through the leather seats. His legs part comfortably, his thigh sticks to yours, his arm hangs over the back of the booth, tickling your nape. He wraps a hand around your beer, pulling it towards him, taking a sip shamelessly. He sits like he owns you.
You roll your eyes, taking back your mug, though you hold it between your hands and don’t drink it. Silence reigns around the table. Neither you or Landon feel particularly inclined to talk.
“C’mon,” Matty pokes, looking back and forth between the two of you. “I want to know the funny story.”
“It’s just about this customer at my old job who was an asshole,” Landon laughs easily to his credit. “Bet you heard a thousand like it before.”
“Yeah,” Matty nods, “I bet I did.” There’s something dark in his eyes, in the intensity of his gaze on Landon, like there is some hidden insult he’s supposed to catch.
Matty’s eyes fall on you next, flicking to the beer and then back to your daggering glare, cocking his head condescendingly. “I didn’t know you liked beer.” He says it like some genuine question, but you know he knows the answer.
“It’s okay,” you say tightly.
“Mmh, yeah,” Matty smirks. “I’m sure Landon could give you a lot of okay things.” Your smile crisps on your face. The fucking asshole.
“Landon,” you practically shout, turning towards him in a desperate attempt to ignore Matty. “I heard you were applying for the position of lead server?”
Matty snorts. “Did your daddy tell you that?”
You grit your teeth, “As a matter of fact, yes.” You smile at Landon. “He wanted my opinion. I’ll tell him I think you’d be great.”
“Thanks,” he smiles at you genuinely. “I promise I won’t call anyone a raging hormonal grade A wanker.”
You laugh. “Oh, please do if I ever need it.” You shake your head, twisting the beer in your hands, but still avoiding the aftertaste that would linger in your mouth. “Yesterday, I had a woman who—”
Matty’s hand rests on your naked thigh, cold from the glass and a smoke outside, rough in sinfully familiar ways, spreading over your leg like this, too, he owns. You stifle a gasp. The words die in your mouth.
“Who what?” Matty encourages you, frowning at you like he’s not perfectly aware of what he’s doing under the table.
As though he’s trying to entirely rob the words out of your mouth, he trails his fingertips up and down your thigh, raising goosebumps on the skin. You throw him a glance with some furious demand to quit it, but there’s a deeper need for him to do just the opposite.
You rake your throat, flipping back to Landon. “She came in already pissed and prissy, telling me she’s never gotten a good experience here. Why she bothers to come back is completely beyond me. I mean, you would think she would give up then, because—”
Matty’s hand dips to your inner thighs and your lips hang open, mind shortcircuiting. Without even thinking, you spread them for him, giving him further space. He smirks at that, at the resounding blush on your cheeks as you realize what you’ve done.
He presses into the meat of your leg, one finger at a time, so you’re so aware of him you might get dizzy. His pinky slips under the hem of your skirt, inching close to inappropriate.
“Um, anyway,” you laugh awkwardly, desperate to get through this story. Your face heats up, the knowledge of Matty’s teasing under the table — in front of Landon — burning at your mind. Matty chuckles beside you. You rake your throat. “I try to do my best, you know— smile so fucking wide I could rip my cheeks— but she’s just asking me stupid question after stupid question like this is an interrogatory or something.”
Your eyes flicker between Landon and Matty, moving from amused eyes to a condescending nod, urging you on as a warm hand slips further and further up your thigh. Pleasure wakes up in your belly— just a little, just the idea of what it could be. God, you need him, and the worst is that he knows, staring at you so fucking cocky and proud.
You stutter, “And— And she speaks to me like I’m the dumb one in this interaction! I mean, she’s asking me the size of our salad leaves because if they’re too big then I’ll have to cut them and yet—”
Matty’s finger meets the apex of your thighs. You jump, hips rolling into his hand, hand flying to your mouth to cover a moan you just barely avoid letting out. You need this story over.
Matty seems to predict your plan to wrap it up, wasting no time to linger and tease and brush, instead rubbing his fingers up and down, pressing into your soaked underwear. You clamp around his hand, biting your lip.
“So she pulled me every which way during my whole shift and—” He finds your clit easily, pressing on it through the cloth, making lazy circles that have your legs shaking under the table nonetheless. Pleasure rushes up them, burning with memory and apprehension.
Your voice trembles as you continue, “—and I had to scream in the fridge so I wouldn’t lunge at her from the table—” You make the mistake of looking Matty’s way and he grins at you knowingly, the crow’s feet by his eyes denting as he licks mischief off his lips. His fingers push your underwear aside.
You grip his wrist under the table, but he gathers a pool of your arousal still, as though to point out how much this little game is actually affecting you, no matter your useless protests. Your breath hitches. He pinches your bud meanly. Your head spins and spins deliriously.
You focus on Landon, rushing out. “And then she tipped me 2%.” You grin at him cartoonishly big and fake, practically screaming, “Your turn!”
“I think I remember that,” Matty cuts in before Landon can say anything. He teases your entrance and a jolt of ecstasy zaps through you. He smirks, “You screaming in the walk-in.” You glare at him, remembering being so wet and tired in the fridge you thought you might liquify and melt on the floor, holding onto his back for dear life as he thrusted inside of you, over and over, finding that perfect spot that had you screaming.
You’re red and hot and fuck it. You stand up, his hand falling out of your skirt. “Actually, I need a smoke.”
Matty stands up beside you. “I have a pack.” You’re off before Landon can add anything, lost to the swallowing crowd of drunk service workers.
You make a beeline for the bar. Matty catches up to you easily, knocking against your side, clearly so fucking pleased with himself. If you weren’t so turned on you think you could actually catch fire, you might tell him to fuck off.
You turn to the right into a dark corridor. “He wasn’t flirting with me,” you say through gritted teeth because you would like to at least establish that.
Matty snorts. “Don’t be naive. He fucking wanted you.”
“It’s not because I have a conversation with a guy that we’re automatically about to get it on.”
He scoffs. “I know guys, and I know that guy would have gotten it on with you right there on the fucking table if you had asked.” You roll your eyes, which only seems to piss him off. “And what were you doing giggling at him?”
“Am I not allowed to laugh?”
“Landon isn’t that fucking funny. The guy barely has enough wit to sustain a conversation.”
“You don’t even know him,” you protest with a disbelieved laugh. Kitchen. To the left.
“I’ve worked with the bloke for three years. If he’s told a joke in that time, I’ve yet to be around to hear it.”
You push the bathroom door, giving him a prissy look behind your shoulder. “Well, you’re missing out. Maybe you should talk to people other than waitresses half your age—” The bathroom door slams behind the both of you. Matty grabs both your cheeks and crashes his mouth against your lips. He shuts you up with a heated tongue and sure, callused fingers on your skin, and it works.
You part your mouth instinctively, kissing him back with fervor and unbridled need. Adrenaline shoots up your spine, alongside childish glee, the thrilled knowledge that this is finally happening. The argument is a faraway concept you don’t care about.
Your hands dig into his back, clutching on the flimsy material of his washed-out white shirt, wishing to rip it off of him. He groans into your mouth, tilting his head and kissing you harder.
Matty pushes you against the door, fixing you in place with a hand on your hip and another palming roughly at your breast. You moan in his mouth, lick into his with devotion. Your fingers hide in the mess of his curls, tugging. Hoping it makes him a little crazy— the instinct to poke and prod and tug for something still boiling inside of you.
And it works. His fingertips dig into your hip, pressing meanly into the bone, and he shivers. He kisses you with abandon, stealing each breath from your mouth until you’re drunk on the lack of oxygen and him. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you kiss and kiss and kiss until your mind swirls lazily in your skull.
He bites your lip, tugging it and releasing it with a smirk. You whine, so fucking wet it drips down your thighs, titling your hips in hope of finding some friction. You tremble between his arms and you know, desperately, deliciously, annoyingly, that he has you right where he wants.
“Please,” you whisper in the dark of the bathroom, already pleading your case like you know you’ll have to. Matty licks his lips, digging under the risen hem of your skirt. “Please, please, please, Matty,” you rush immediately again, rolling your hips against nothing.
“What do you want?”
“You.” You take his wrist, puppeteering his hand up and up until it finds the wet patch of your underwear. You bite your lip, a gasp seconds away from spilling. “Your fingers.”
“Mine, huh?” He says, and indulgently slips your underwear aside. This time, nothing stops the resulting breathy moan. “Those fingers?” He brushes up your entrance, finding your clit and rubbing gently at it.
You roll your eyes, letting your last hand fall to his shoulder and clutching it for support. “Yes.” As though satisfied with your answer, he rewards you with speed, circling and swiping at you until your face breaks open with a silent moan. Pleasure blooms in your belly. Finally. Every aching muscle in you sings in unabashed thrill. “Fuck, Matty.”
He dips into your neck, kissing and licking at the delicate curve, climbing up your jaw. He’s unrelenting between your thighs and you simply grip his wrist, letting yourself be washed with euphoria. Those calluses might kill you one day.
“You’re so fucking desperate for me,” he says, and though the words are harsh, the tone is reverent. He looks down at you, at your body bending and parting just for him, at your pleading stare, at your red, panting mouth. Devours the sight. “Got you so fucking ready just from touching you under the table. Did you like it, princess? Liked being bad? Liked getting fingered in front of your little buddy?”
You nod furiously. Pleasure loosens your head enough to lose the inherent need to be a rule-abiding, prim, moral girl. Yes to taboo, yes to indency, yes to anything if it’s him.
“Bet he’d be so upset if he saw you now. Should we go get him? Give him a show?” Faintly, you shake your head, embarrassment and ecstasy spinning your mind. You moan into his neck, desperate. Your hips grind against his hand for more.
He presses into your clit, making your eyes roll with a gasp. “He’d love to see you like this. Fucked out when I’ve barely even touched you. Making the prettiest sounds ever. God, I could fucking hear them all day. All desperate and whiney, like you can’t get enough of me.” He rubs at you twice as fast just to hear you whimper, muffled by a bite of his shoulder. His name drowns in the fibers, shirt wet by a slack mouth.
“I can’t,” you admit, shaking in his arms.
“Fucked the old, dirty man at work and now you can’t fucking live without his cock, right? What would they all think if they saw you, cockdrunk and fucking begging for it?”
“Yes! Just— Fuck, just do something, sir.”
“So fucking wet for me,” he coos, all proud and pleased. You grin, letting go of his shoulder to press kisses up his neck. He shudders. “We should show them, right? At least let them hear it.” Two of his fingers dip to your entrance and enter, slowly, letting the pornographic, squelching sound resonate through the quiet room. “There you go.”
You’re too blissed out to care how it sounds, too busy getting used to the delicious stretch of his digits to fully notice how each thrust makes sopping, wet noises. You shiver, gripping his shoulder, biting wherever you can get your teeth into. Matty groans in your ear and you grin, happy.
“No one can fuck you like this,” Matty whispers, and indulgently speeds up his movement, curling into you as a reminder.
Euphoria coils in your belly, familiarly burning and tightening the strings of your body. You shake your head. “No one,” you agree, religious.
“No one can get you off.”
Again, you grip his shoulders, promising, “No one.” And it’s true. Even your own hand has been a poor replacement to the art he can draw on your skin, making your body sing like his favorite instrument. His thumb rolls at you in tandem, a fast, harsh tempo. “Fucking hell,” you cry and scrunch your face.
He smirks, whispering, “No one can see you like this.”
“No one, Matty. Only you.”
Matty kisses your cheek, a serpent smile on his lips. He coos in the shell of your ear, “Then why were you flirting with him?” He doesn’t want you to mistake his sweet tone: he pulls out of you.
Your eyes flash open, fear gripping your guts. Your cunt already misses him, throbbing around nothing. The taste of pleasure lingers on your teeth, just out of reach.
“I wasn’t,” you try to plead, but Matty’s already stepping away from you. Your arms fall to your side. Matty nods, but it doesn’t reassure anything in you, now hyperaware of the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “I swear, Matty. I didn’t— He just made me laugh.” You shake your head, chuckling, “Who fucking cares about Landon Williams?”
Your hand reaches out, grabbing his and drawing it back under your raised skirt. You brush it against your soaked underwear, biting your lip as it makes contact. You whisper, “He doesn’t do this to me.��
Matty is unimpressed. “Of fucking course not.” He bites, pulling away. You pout, displeased, too empty to think. He crosses his arms before you get any other ideas. “Did you finish that drink, princess?” Your cheeks heat up and you look down, caught. He snorts meanly. “Say it.”
“Yes, but—”
He cuts you off, furrowing his eyebrows in a comical pout, as though speaking to a little child. “Where did my good little girl go? So fucking eager to please. Brought up with manners and all, right?”
He takes a step, tilting your chin up with a strong thumb. You part your lips, readied and offered, pleading. “You taste like beer,” he whispers, and then offers a solution: two wet fingers, just out of reach. The message clicks. You don’t hesitate.
You get on your tiptoes, sticking your neck out to catch the digits and suck them between your lips. You roll your tongue around them, moaning with a full mouth, letting the tangy taste of you linger. You release him with a pop, grinning up at him proudly.
You keep it wide open, waiting, and he smirks at you. Knowing exactly what you’re asking for, he bends and spits in your mouth. Sick pleasure fills your mind and you moan, swallowing it, barely catching your breath that he’s muttering, “You’re so fucking dirty,” and falling on your lips.
You kiss him back eagerly, trying to keep up with his angry, furious pace. You’re wound up so tight you might burst from any touch: just a brush, just a flick, just a thrust and you’d be screaming his name, falling apart on his callused hand.
“Matty,” you beg between two kisses. You throb around nothing.
“Taste much better, sweetheart,” he breathes.
He presses a kiss on your lips, then pulls away from you again. You’re whining before he’s even had time to unwrap you from his arms, release your tits from his palms. You frown at him. You’ve done everything he asked.
“Let this be a lesson, princess.”
“Are you fucking serious?” You cross your arms, fuming. He’s really gonna leave now? Matty seems a bit too happy at your reaction, watching you like his favorite entertainment.
He smiles, stroking your hair. “How else are you supposed to learn?” He pouts. “If I can’t have my good girl, I’ll make her.” He brushes the saliva and gloss off your lower lip, then opens the bathroom door.
It falls close with a slam. You stare at the graffitied, dirty mirror and think you might murder someone.
—
Matty is sizzling some meat, twisting salt and pepper above it. The kitchen staff runs around him— they’re late, falling behind because of a missing aioli sauce.
You wait for your plate and dagger him with a glare. You’re still sticky and unsatisfied from yesterday; you spent until the early hours of the day rubbing between your thighs, desperately trying to satisfy some itch.
Matty’s eyes rise up as though feeling the handmark of your stare on him. They lock with yours, take in your displeased, furious look, and he smirks. Winks at you. You grab the hot plate sliding across from you with a huff.
Walking away with a balancing tray, you secretly wish for him to tug you into the nearest bathroom until the whole restaurant knows his name. He doesn’t, of course, and you find your hungry guests with the fakest, biggest smile of all.
—
The restaurant is eerily calm before the dinner rush, a few seated tables scattered across sections: rushed parents and elderly folks slurping soup. You have just enough of a break to chug the bottle of water you keep at the host stand, pestering Adam as you finally have a minute to quench your thirst.
Veronica finds you at the stand, leaning both elbows on the wood as she smiles sickly sweet at you. Your eyes narrow in apprehension. “I just got asked something interesting.” You arch an eyebrow. “Landon wants to know if you and Matty are a thing. Said Matty practically pissed all over you two days ago.”
Your lips don’t even twitch. “Okay.”
Veronica gives you an expectant look. “Well?”
Beside you, Adam turns to his computer and decidedly chooses to ignore this. “I am not part of this conversation,” he declares.
You roll your eyes. “We’re not a thing.”
Veronica laughs. “Oh, come on. No one here is blind. You guys eyefuck so much sometimes we feel like we’re intruding just by picking up a plate.” Admittedly, your cheeks heat up slightly at that. You didn’t think you were that obvious.
She sighs, giving you a serious look. “Just be careful. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. He’s not like the little goody-goody boyfriends you’ve had. He’ll eat you alive.”
You flutter your eyelashes, faux doe-eyed. “Promise?”
“Reservations, tables, tables. Mmh, chairs.”
You give her a look, entirely ignoring Adam’s interjection. “I’m young, Vee, but I’m not stupid. I’m telling you there’s nothing going on. We’re just having sex.” You click your tongue. “And even then, we’ve only done it, like, once. Once and a half at most.”
“And a half?” Adam pipes up, then seems to remember who you’re talking about. He raises one hand, shaking his head, defeated. “I don’t even want to know.” He practically bends over the stand to see the computer, as though if he just got close enough to the screen, he could be sucked into its world.
“I’m leaving for college in less than two months,” you continue. “I’m not trying to date him, or whatever other tragic ways you think he’s gonna break my heart.” You smirk, shrugging, “I just find the gray hair hot.” Veronica snorts at that.
Still, there’s something relieved in her eyes. Maybe even proud. She smiles at you, then turns to Adam. “And what does Matty have to say about it?”
“No comments.”
She gasps, facing you with an excited grin. “That means he’s talked about you!” You bite your lip. Could he have? What did he say?
Veronica is already on it. She pokes Adam’s arm, forcing him to look up at her. “What has he said? C’mon.” She gives him a solemn look, holding her heart. “This is a safe space.”
“That it’s none of my business,” Adam deadpans. “And neither is it yours, brat.”
Before Veronica can add anything, a family of four enter the door, wiping off their sweaty, red foreheads. They laugh as they approach the stand, mentioning the weather. Adam practically jumps to greet them, begging them to follow him.
“I’m sitting them in your section. That’ll give you something useful to do,” Adam hisses at Veronica, and she pokes her tongue out at him.
She waits until he’s just out of earshot to trail, “Now that he’s gone…” She faces you with a smirk, rounding the stand and joining you. She gives you a teasing look, biting back a grin. “How was the sex?” You can’t stop the smile shining on your face. It breaks your cheeks. She gasps. “Oh, I knew it. Julia said he was the best sex of her life, too.”
“She didn’t lie,” you admit, flushed. You cock your head. “You haven’t slept with him?” You’re almost surprised. For all her don’t fuck the line cooks warnings, you had assumed she must have been burned before.
“Nah,” she shakes her head. She trails, teasing, “I was too busy with Ross.”
“Hypocrite!”
“I never said anything about bartenders!” But before you can tease her more, Adam calls her name and Veronica’s off with a spin and four menus, blowing you a kiss.
—
It’s dark outside. The street lamps slope over cars, bathing the street in semi-obscurity. You cross your arms, some pretend at a shield. The crew has long left for The Darling while you finished up your closing duties. You wiped your forehead and found yourself too tired to handle another boozy, dancy night, to wake up the next day still a little drunk and off-kilter for a grueling Saturday shift.
Something catches the corner of your eye. Your head turns, squinting to be sure you’re not mistaken. No, it really is Matty’s car parked in the alleyway. You’d recognize the dirty, beat-up thing anywhere for all the rides it has given you—not in the sense you would like. At least you can ask for one now, avoid the stressful walk home, clenched and quick, holding keys between your fingers.
You dip into the dark alleyway, walking the cigarette butts-lined path. The car is smoky, a gray curtain to the outside world. You frown, knocking on the window of his backseat. Matty opens the door, bloodshot eyes staring at you, eyebrow arching. He holds a joint in one hand and the door’s handle in the other. The earthy smell attacks your nostrils; you scrunch your nose.
“Don’t let the smoke out,” Matty chastises, sliding away to leave a spot beside him.
Your brain throbs in your head. Flashes of grand preachy speeches given to friends as they passed bongs at parties come back to you. Embarrassingly, you flush and step into the car, closing the door behind you.
Matty grins at you, pleased, taking a hit of his joint and blowing the smoke into the car. The air is heavy and thick, pressing against your skin. This is such a bad idea.
“What are you still doing here?” You ask. He pointedly looks at the joint as though obvious. You roll your eyes. “You could do that at home.”
He shrugs, “Didn’t want to.”
“Are you gonna drive?”
“Was planning to, yeah.” Your lips part for a scathing, moralizing reply, but he cuts you off, repeating in that same tone of yours, “Are you gonna give me a sermon?”
You scowl. “Was planning to, yeah.” Matty chuckles. He knows you far too well already.
“I’d leave if I were you, princess. This car’s becoming a hotbox.”
You should, of course. Weed has carcinogens, and causes lung damages, and slows development, and wrecks the body’s natural nutrient reserve, and all the other priggish arguments you’ve known and repeated by heart.
But Matty has a loose grin you find a little adorable. Gray-streaked hair flops as he leans his head on the backseat, lips drooping with the weight of the joint. The shape of them is addictive, a perfect O as he blows smoke out, just like he would on the inside of your thighs to get you to jump and squirm for him.
Your breath is heavy. You feel stuck to the leather seats, skin gluing you in place to watch and rewatch the show he gives you.
And, really, you’re a little curious about what weed is. Your friends have all indulged at some time or the other; your dormmate used to crack a window, light a candle, and infest the room with the earthy smell as if it would cover any of it up; even your mom would laugh and wave smoke away when you caught her off the clock with her coworkers back in LA.
Matty laughs, languid and slack and, fuck, it’s such a pretty sound. “You don’t want to, do you?” He teases. Your cheeks heat up. “It’s okay, princess. Don’t even need to smoke it. Just breathe the air and save your pretty pink lungs. You can even do your little speech to me if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Don’t condescend me,” you say, as though there’s not something sick in you that enjoys when he does it. Matty raises two arms in a show of innocence, cheeky as they fall down. He knows you like it, too.
“My apologies, darling.” In complete contradiction, he spreads his knees and looks down at his lap, telling you, “Come sit on my knee.” And in complete contradiction to your warning, you do just what he asks.
You don’t even think about it; you’re scooping yourself up and dropping on his knee, biting your lip as you settle over his tough jeans. His hand loosely holds your hip, looking at you pleased.
Now that you’re on his lap, close enough to count his eyelashes, to lick the smoke off his lips, you feel yourself growing needy. The memory of a stolen orgasm in a dark bathroom comes back to you in hot flashes. You have to think about stilling your hips to stop you from grinding on his knee.
“Are you serious about this?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but the answer’s the same anyway;
“Yes.”
He taps your hip. “Open your mouth, princess.” You’re flushing as you do so, imagining him spitting in it, slipping two fingers and making you slobber your sermon around them. Instead, he takes a hit of his joint and blows it into your mouth. You inhale as he’s taught you. “Good,” he grins. “You remember how.”
“It’s not rocket science,” you bite, deadpan.
“You’re right. Smart girl like you. This is nothing at all.” It hits true, strumming the right chords inside of you. You shift on his knee, holding back the shameful groan that threatens to spill out at the friction. It’s really not fair that he makes you sit here, close enough to kiss and rub and grind until you’re dripping on his lap, and not do it.
Maybe you’re starting to feel something. Your body is light and slack, a pleasant buzz resonating through you. You feel relaxed, more than you have in years, always strung high, clenched and straight-backed. A giggle threatens out of you.
Maybe it’s why you say, “I think you should fuck me.” Though, really, it’s all just an excuse for the fact that it’s all you’ve thought about for the past week, ever since that night in the walk-in fridge. You should do it again. Right now. Please. Over and over, like the beating drums of an earworm song.
Matty smiles, indulgent. “Is that so?” You nod frantically. His fingers dig into your hip. He takes another hit, ever casual. “D’you think you deserve to?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“I—” You huff. Well, yes, maybe you haven’t really been anything but a brat recently, wearing low-cut tops and winking at other line cooks in hopes of riling him up. But it’s really his fault for getting you so fucking ready you’re begging for him, then walking off. You pout at him. “Please.”
“Ah-ah,” he says, tugging on your lip with his thumb, smearing your lipgloss. “None of that.” Being cute won’t seem to work this time.
“I’ll earn it,” you say desperately.
“How?”
Your mind scrambles. An idea sparks in your mind. You rise from his knee, then you get on yours in the cramped spot of the backseat.
You look up at him, blinking innocently, hand traveling up his thigh. Matty takes the joint to his lips, but you can see from the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession that he’s worked up. Good. You fucking have him.
You might be inexperienced, an unknower of pleasure, but if there’s one thing you can do, it’s a fucking blowjob.
“Go on, then,” Matty says, choked. “Earn it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Your greedy hands finally find his waistband. You undo the button, fingers frantic as they work his jeans down enough to reveal his half-hard cock. You lick your lips, staring up at him while you wrap around his length.
He hisses, bucking into your fist. His dark eyes are locked in yours, barely willing to move away from your face to take a good look at the little show your hand is giving him. It’s like he wants to see you, pupils wide and lips swollen, so fucking turned on and ready just to suck his cock.
You slide up, swiping your hand up to his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it down. It’s a slow pace, meant to tease, to beguile him. Get him so ready for you he’s begging for once.
You repeat the motion over and over, never in any kind of repeated rhythm for him to really get used to anything. His cock hardens in your hand until it’s standing proud and ready. Matty breathes heavily, letting a low sound out every time you brush his tip. You smirk every time, teasing your nails on his sensitive skin.
“Stop teasing,” Matty warns. His hips fuck into your fist every time you slide down, silently begging for more.
You cock your head, blinking up at him innocently. “Where are your manners?”
“Careful,” he says with a dangerous tone. His eyes gleam. “You don’t want me to teach you another lesson.”
You giggle. You dip your head down, kissing his tip. A moan spills out of him and you flash your teeth at him. You lower a little, pressing another kiss, then again, and again, until his whole cock is covered in tacky lipgloss.
Your tongue sticks out to lick a stripe up his length, rounding his tip. Just when he’s ready to feel your warm mouth embrace him, you give him another sweet kiss. He curses under his breath. “You think you’re funny.”
You lick mischief off your lips, staring up at him with a cheeky grin. “Say please.”
His hand free of the joint rakes through your hair, grabbing a handful of it and tugging until you look up at him. Pleasure sparks from your head to your toes, reveling in the sensation. He sees right through you.
He lets go of your hair, soothing the sting as he travels down your temple, your cheek, your chin, pushing a thumb between your lips and parting them. Thrill gathers in your belly. Your mouth hangs wide open, breathing harshly. “Do it or I will.”
It’s his turn to be cocky, spotting how you shift on your knees at the graphic images he puts in your head. His hands in your hair, sure and strong as he fucks up into your— No. You want to show him what you can do, prove you’re not just some lost little girl.
You laugh, sucking around his thumb then releasing it. Saliva coats it, and it dries on your cheek as he caresses it. “You’re no fun,” you tease, pouting.
“Shouldn’t fuck a crass man if you wanted pleases and thank yous,” he retorts. “But then, you wouldn’t enjoy it, would you? Need to be railed dirty to get off, right?”
Instead of answering— too proud to give him the yes he’s right to expect, you suck his tip into your mouth. He makes a low whine, patting your hair, swearing under his breath as you roll your tongue around him. “That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Take me in now.”
There’s the instinct in you to do just the opposite, the born and bred need to be difficult, but you give in anyway, a bigger want to be extra good for him. You push him past your lips, lowering until he hits your throat. “Fuck,” he chokes. You smile around him, then bob your head.
You set a steady pace, stroking what you can’t fit with your fist. The car fills with wet, gagging noise and those puffy breaths he takes. Your tongue sticks out, licking his length as it passes him, making him shiver under you.
“Give me your hand,” he demands. You offer it without thinking, reaching up towards him palm-out.
He takes your wrist and spits on your hand. Saliva drips on your palm as he lowers it back to his cock. He wraps your fingers around him, pumping himself once, then twice, then releasing you. You keep going to the same pace he set, cursing around his length, somehow more turned on now.
Your hand works in tandem with your mouth. You leave his cock just long enough to spit on it yourself, spreading the saliva until he’s wet and messy, then bringing him back between your swollen lips. Precum and drool sticks to your chin, but you bob with a mission, uncaring of the sopping sounds that come out of your mouth.
“Ah,” he groans. His head falls back on the seat, spreading his thighs as if to give you more space. You quicken your moves in response, trying to coax more pretty sounds of him. “Shit. Fucking hell,” he laughs.
His eyes roll back, and he takes a hit of his dwindling joint. You stare at his lips as he does so, still as sickly fascinated by him smoking as you’ve always been. The car drenches in smoke, an added mix to the condensation dripping on the windows.
Matty’s face pulls down to look at you, right as you swallow him up with an especially deep trust. He makes a whine, caresses your hair. Sees the way your eyes are dark and aroused for him, obsessed. “D’you want another hit?” He asks, cheeky.
You release his cock, out of breath. “Yes.” Your hand continues to jerk him as you smile at him.
“Magic word?”
You scoff. “Coming from you?”
He laughs. “C’mon. How many tutors taught you all those good girl manners? Can’t destroy all that hard work. I don’t want to corrupt you too much.” Your eyes narrow at him. Your thumb swipes on his tip, stroking him quickly. He jumps at that, moaning. Matty shakes his head, hair flopping with it. “Minx.”
“Please,” you say, because you know it’s a lost battle to do anything but. You brush his tip on your lips, kitten-licking him, like some added argument. He smiles proudly.
“Of course, princess.” The joint comes to you, end faced towards you, just enough out of reach that you have to kneel up to wrap your lips around it. You take a drag, tipping your head back as you blow it out.
Your body feels hazy, tingling pleasantly throughout. There’s a loose smile on your lips as you bend down to swallow him back in your mouth. Euphoria twists in your mind, pulling at the strings of you, and you double in efforts eagerly, happily.
You bob quicker, deeper, moaning around his length. You breathe through your nose, trying not to gag every time he hits the back of your throat. It’s all worth it for the swears he mutters under his breath, low groans filling the car. Every fucked-out praise shoots you straight to the core. You’re dripping on the floor, wet and empty and begging for him.
“My perfect girl,” he praises, a whiny, worshiping sound. “So pretty on her knees for me. Fucking drooling everywhere.” You laugh at that, feeling saliva drip down your cheeks. “You were made for my cock, weren’t you? Made for me.”
You try to agree, but it’s a slobbering mess around his dick. The vibrations are enough; his eyes roll back into his skull, his hips jump. You choke on his length, releasing him with a cough, then diving back to work.
“Can’t fucking get enough of me,” he says. His hand caresses your hair, a soothing motion. “D’you want more?”
You nod around him. He smiles, gripping a hand in your hair. The sting gives you the same reaction as before; you moan around him, toes tingling. He pushes your mouth deeper around him. This time, you expect it; breathing through your nose, you welcome him in your throat.
“There you go,” he whines. He can’t stop looking at you, at the mess of your mouth. “So fucking filthy.” Again, he presses you down. A moan spills out of him. You grip his knee with your free hand.
Matty controls your head, pushing it deeper and deeper around his cock, making the most fucked-out noises from the feel of it. You pump him with your hand every time he pulls you up to his tip, stroking back to the base as he lowers you down. He does it quicker and quicker, setting a fast pace. Again, you shift on your knees, trying to soothe away that burning need between your thighs.
Matty spots it immediately. “Are you wet?” He taunts, though it’s a little ridiculous when he’s out of breath and on the edge of a moan. You nod around him, a little whine coming out, and he smirks. “Soaked ‘cause you’re sucking my dick, huh? If I knew it got you going like this, I would have had your mouth around me every single fucking day, darling.” And it’s not like you would have objected, considering you’re the one who’s been practically chasing him for the past week.
“Dirty girl. They all think you’re so innocent, but I know.” He smirks. “Bet your father would love to know what I’m doing to his precious girl.” Need and shame burn inside of you, and you can’t figure out which one makes you flush and your mind spin. Cockiness drips from his tongue as he trails, “‘S not my fault his daughter loves my cock, right?” You don’t know whether to nod or shake your head, instead moaning around him.
Matty reaches the joint out, telling you, “Hold that.” You frown. It’s unlit by now, useless, and he could certainly throw it anywhere in the backseat to fish it out later. It’s not like his car is clean; trash litters it, cigarette burns scar the leather, and the smell of weed is permanent. Still, you don’t question it, unwrapping your hand from his cock to take the joint.
It becomes apparent, then, why he asked you. Raking two hands through your hair, he keeps your head in place as his hips fuck up into you. With your hand gone and occupied, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, and he releases you just enough to catch your breath, before pumping past your lips again.
He groans at every stroke, burying your nose in the faint hair scattering up his belly. Pleasure blooms on his face. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable and fucked out, face wrinkling and lips panting.
His head falls down to look at you again. He makes a whine from the back of his throat. “Fuck, you’ve got spit everywhere.” It’s true, chin wet as slurping sounds resonate on the steamy windows.
If your ex-boyfriend had even tried to lose a hand in your hair and push your head down, you’d have bit him with a vengeance. But kneeling like this with Matty using you only brings a sick pleasure out of you. You feel your core throb, thighs sticky with need. You don’t know what he’s doing to you, don’t understand how he manages to ruin you so thoroughly.
Your nails dig into his knee, the other hand pinching the joint. Your eyes water at every thrust until tears roll down your eyes, mixing with the wet of your cheeks and chin.
Matty awes, sickly amused as he sings, “Are you crying?” You feel suddenly embarrassed, attempting to shake your head, deny the proofs streaming down your cheeks. “Is Daddy’s dick too big for you?” The nickname strikes through the daze, shock and arousal coursing through your veins.
Matty doesn’t even realize what he’s said, too gone to mind any words. A string of curses comes next as he bobs your head. Still, it’s all you can think about, playing back the word in that filthy head of yours.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” he promises. “Just a little bit more.” His hand strokes your cheek, wiping at the runaway tears. “Gonna make me come so hard. D’you want my cum?” You nod vaguely. He grins at that. “Yeah? Wanna fucking swallow it?” You hum around him, excited. He moans, “Fuck. You’re such a slut.”
Again, there should be outrage, should be a dramatic tear off his dick as you tell him off, but he says it in such a reverent way, like a compliment, a praise, and you find yourself whining around him instead. Your cunt throbs, empty and lonely, and maybe you are a slut after all. You’ve been nothing but a needy, begging mess for him anyway. If it gives you this much pleasure in exchange, is there really something wrong with it?
Matty senses the way you preen under the name. He smirks, fucking up faster, chasing an end. “My little slut. So perfect, made for me. Would spend her days on her knees, wouldn’t she? Till she’s all bruised and fucked out.” His thrusts grow erratic. “I’d take care of you, princess. I’d put you in the best bed and I’d pump you full of my cum until you’re dripping with it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like being my little fucktoy?” A yes comes out garbled out of your mouth. “All those smarts, gone for a dirty man like me. Fucking ironic, isn’t it?”
You hollow your cheeks, run your tongue, hope to finish him. Hear his pretty cries, see his scrunched, coming face, taste his cum. Let it be your turn.
You take back charge as Matty gets too hazy to make sense of anything, much less the furious tempo he’s set. You bob up and down with abandon, slobbering everywhere. His hips stutter, meeting you halfway. His cock twitches in your mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matty cries. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling vengefully. “Shit, princess, I’m—” With a scream, he comes on your tongue.
His body shivers as the tangy taste of white ropes spill down your throat. You swallow everything, watching his face as it grows peaceful. A slack, happy smile shines on his lips. He strokes your hair, as if an apology.
Only when he softens do you pull out of him, saliva stringing from his tip to your lip. You lick it off, chuckling. Show off your empty mouth. His cum is all gone.
“Good girl,” Matty praises, out of breath. He tucks his cock back in his jeans. “What do we say now?”
“Thank you.”
He hums. “I think you deserve a reward for doing so well for me.” You grin at him, childishly excited. He laughs, taking both your hands and raising you off your knees. “You want that, don’t you?” You bite your lip.
As soon as you’re up, he digs under your skirt, pulling off your underwear. You gasp as the air hits your bare skin. He rubs a thumb on the wet patch of the pink fabric, arching an eyebrow for you. “So fucking ready for me just from sucking my cock.”
“Not just from sucking your cock,” you say. “I’ve been ready for you all week.”
“Is that so?” Matty flips you around, sitting you square on his lap, your back against his chest. This close, you can smell the sweat and weed on him. Each leg hangs from the sides of his knees. He parts them, spreading you wide, putting you on display.
There’s the knowledge that anyone could see you tugging at the back of your mind. No matter the smoke, and the fogged up windows, and the dark of the night, it’s still a public alleyway. They could walk in on you, cunt out, wet and throbbing. It’s nasty, and it’s hot, and now you’re grinding against nothing, hoping for friction.
Thankfully, Matty indulges you, wrapping his arm around your waist and teasing two fingers over your swollen clit. You jump, already oversensitive, moaning at the little contact. He rubs in slow circles.
“I could have had you any time, then?” He whispers in your ear. “Could have pulled you in the dry storage and had my dirty way with you?”
“Yes.”
His touch becomes faster, pressing harder, zeroing in on your bud with a middle finger. You scrunch your face, already so close. A little pout comes on your face. You don’t want to finish without his fingers inside of you, not when you’ve been this eager for them. Your pussy clenches around nothing, unsatisfied.
“Any day, any time, anywhere?” His hand ghosts at your entrance, gathering a pool of your dripping juices.
“Yes,” you repeat, almost frustrated he doesn’t get it. You need him all the time. He seems satisfied by your answer, dipping two fingers inside your cunt.
You gasp, wrinkling your face with the overwhelming euphoria that spreads through you. The stretch is delicious. You’re already rolling your hips into his fingers, begging for more.
He bites at your earlobe, licking down your neck. Husky and gravely, he teases, “You would scream my name so the whole restaurant knows whose cock is fucking you this good? So they know that little princess likes to get railed filthy by an old, sleazy man?” As though to demonstrate, he pumps his fingers quicker into you. Sopping sounds resonate with your answering whines.
It’s a silly question. As if you haven’t had that exact fantasy before, playing over and over as guests criticize your every move. You insist, “Yes, Daddy.”
Matty’s fingers freeze inside of you. His heart races, the rhythm drumming on your back. Your eyes snap open, scared you’ve done something wrong. He’s the one who— A flush spreads up your cheeks. You’re so disgusting, using that nickname while he—
“Say it again.” He’s choked and out of breath. Turned on. You smirk, victorious.
You grip his wrist and make him pump inside of you again. You let your head fall on his shoulder, moaning, “Daddy, please, make me come.”
“Fuck.” It’s all the incentive he needs, apparently, because now he’s thrusting and curling inside of you, finding that magical spot each time. The heel of his hand rubs at your clit, making jolts of pleasure spark through you. His other hand snakes around your chest and paws at your breast, digging under your shirt to rub the nipple.
Every sensation works perfectly together to get you buzzing with ecstasy. You feel drunk— or high— mind swirling inside your head until all you know is his name. Your core tightens, toes curling and uncurling.
“Come on my fingers,” he demands, voice low and hoarse. “Fucking drench Daddy’s hand. I wanna taste you.”
There’s something so desperate in his voice that makes you even needier. You throb around his digits, eyebrows furrowing, strings thinning. He pinches your nipple. You open your mouth with a silent cry, shaking all over.
“That’s it,” he coos. “I got you, baby. You’re right there.” You nod frantically. “Just come for me. Come. Come—” Just like he demands, your body breaks and you shatter on his fingers.
Euphoria spreads through you, that overwhelming sense of relief. His name burns your tongue, over and over, a plea and a reverence and a worship. He continues to slide in and out of you, slowly, tenderly, until you’re done shaking and throbbing.
Your body hums pleasantly, bone-deep happy. You practically melt on his body, each limb letting go and settling into him. You sigh, satisfied. Finally haunts your head. Yet, you’re already looking out for next time.
Matty pulls out of you. He brings his wet fingers to his mouth; you hear the pornographic moan he makes as he cleans them. You flush, too tired to make a chastising comment.
“Best meal in town,” he says, cheeky. You half-slap him, half-giggle.
His hand falls from your breasts, but wraps around your waist instead, pulling you even closer, trapping you in the heat of his arms. He kisses your cheek. “We can stay like this for a little while. I’ll drive you home after.”
You crack an eye open. “Are you high?”
He scoffs. “No.” He grins against your cheek, teasing, “You’ve sobered me up.”
Being cute does not distract you. You hum, unconvinced. “What’s the alphabet backwards?”
“Are you fucking kidding—” He blows air from his nose. Resigned, he recites, “Z, Y, X—”
—
It’s fifteen past ten and the house is empty. Groceries linger on the kitchen island and you could, theoretically, put them all together yourself. Though it’s just not quite the same when you have to do the work under the orange light of the kitchen hood, alone except for some sad blues and a bottle of white and the sizzling sound of the pan.
In your hand, an apologetic text flashes at you. You bite on a humus dipped carrot, bitter. You understand, you say, and pretend you believe him when he swears he’ll make it up to you. You take a long sip of your wine glass.
You stare at the lonely apartment. An idea tickles the back of your mind. It would be a waste of wine, and space, and freedom if you dutifully went to bed now. Your hand lingers on his contact, then press on the picture of Matty’s frown, cigarette hanging between his lips.
I have my place all to myself. Do you wanna come? You hit send before you overthink it. A rush of anxiety swipes through you.
He’s quick to answer. depends. do i get to cum anywhere? You roll your eyes. He’s truly insufferable sometimes.
Invitation retracted.
i’m on my way
You can’t control the pleased grin on your face, but there’s no one to see it anyway. You can indulge a little in the childish thrill that blooms inside your stomach. You feel sunshine from the inside-out.
He’s ringing your doorbell the next time you hear of him. By then you’re already a little flushed with wine, practically running to the door to buzz him in.
A knock resonates just a few minutes later. You swing the door wide open. “Hi.” Again, you can’t seem to control your giddy smile.
“You shouldn’t open the door just like that. I could’ve been a bad man.”
“You are.” Matty snorts. You move out of the doorframe, gesturing for him to step inside.
He walks your flat with confidence, though he hasn't been here since that fatal night and, even then, it had been a quick in and out thing. He lingers a little to take in the set-up. The open floor plan, the L leather couch, the massive dining table and the kitchen island that hasn’t seen any action in months. It’s a shame for a family of chefs how little you use it.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of a work setting, either a grueling shift or the drunk aftermath. He’s cleaner; white shirt rid of stains, jeans unburdened by an apron. He still sports a stumble, ever lazy to shave it off, but his hair sprouts in soft curls from his head. There’s a lack of gloomy energy, like what you thought was a permanent tired look was, in fact, reserved for the restaurant. He looks good is what you mean.
Matty stares you up and down shamelessly, taking in your off-duty outfit as well. A collared shirt buttoned conservatively, tucked into a black skirt, leather heeled loafers and white socks at your feet. Your hands shine with silver rings. You are, admittedly, much cleaner than him. Matty seems to dig your preppy look anyway, licking a gaze up and down your legs, rubbing his smirk away with two of his fingers.
You side-step him, making your way to the kitchen. Matty follows behind you, taking the time to gaze at the paintings dotting your walls. Pretentious things your father bought because he was told by other people they were masterpieces, they were technical, they were touching. You get to the cabinets, searching for a matching wine glass.
“Why’d you invite me?” Matty asks, seemingly an afterthought. He peers at your half-empty glass, raising it to examine the wine.
“I was supposed to have dinner with my dad, but he’s too busy today after all.” You turn to Matty with a glass in hand. “There’s some sort of important event with investors that just came up. He couldn’t untangle himself,” you press. You don’t know why you feel the need to rehash your father’s excuses, as though you had to defend him to Matty. It’s silly; he doesn’t even care, instead bringing your wine glass to his nose and giving it a swirl.
“It’s a Chenin Blanc.” You say as you uncork the bottle, pouring him his own glass. You slide it his way, tsking regretfully, “It was gonna pair beautifully with the seared scallops.” There’s a tinge of bitterness in your voice, and you try your best to smooth it. You can’t sound annoyed.
“Served with what?”
“Baby spinach and spiced pomegranate glaze.”
“Damn,” Matty shakes his head. “That does sound good.” He takes a seat at the dining table, shamelessly making himself at home. He cocks his head, bringing the glass to his lips. “So, what? You invited me to cook it for you instead?”
Your lips twitch. “I’ve already eaten actually.” A mismatch of carrots, humus, swiss cheese and chocolate-covered blueberries eaten standing up at the kitchen island, but a meal nonetheless.
Matty hums. He leans back on his chair, smirking to himself. “You know, I feel a bit peckish myself.”
Your arch an eyebrow, playful as you drawl, “Is that so?” The cheeky, knowing look on his face wakes the heat in your belly. You clench your thigh; he spots it, amused. “There’s food in the fridge.”
“A miracle! She has more than kraft dinner.”
“I didn’t specify which food. Maybe mac’n’cheese is all that’s waiting for you.”
Matty smiles. “I think I’m craving something else.” His hand reaches out, grabbing yours until you stumble into him.
You grip his shoulders to balance yourself, both legs siding one of his knees. He looks at you with those dark, dangerous eyes that announce nothing but trouble. You tower over him, see him blinking his spiderleg eyelashes up at you. His lips part, pretty and red. A rush of excitement shoots through you. Your breath hitches.
“Wow,” you say, mocking. “You just got here and you’re already trying to bend me over the table. Didn’t even ask me about my day.”
“Oh, sorry,” he says, faux-apologetic. His hands dig into your thighs, picking you up and hoisting you on the table. You sit before him, blush as he spreads your legs out for him. With a cheeky, shit-eating grin, he looks up at you and says, “How was your day, princess?”
You up your nose, ignoring his bait. “It was good. I—” His hands rise up your thighs, brushing against your silky smooth skin. You can’t stop the shivers. “Fuck, I went to the library and—”
He bends down, peppering sweet kisses where his fingertips had been. Your breath hitches at the ghosting touch, teasing and tickling and lighting you up. He looks up at you, face nearing where you need him most. “Mmh, and what?”
“Just— shit.” He spreads your legs further apart, giving him ample access to bite and suck at your thigh, which he does with worshiping abandon. He soothes away the hurt with a tongue. You pant, moaning lowly, “I started early on my first week readings for—”
Matty snorts. “Nerd.”
“It’s actually really essential to—” He slips your underwear aside, finding your clit and thumbing a lazy circle on it. “Ah, fucking hell, Matty!”
He smiles, so fucking proud. His finger speeds up. “What book did you read?”
“Well, the textbook. It was— It’s about—” Words escape your mouth when his tongue is burning your skin, getting closer and closer to where his thumb is hard at work. Euphoria shakes in your stomach. You bite your lip, gripping the edge of the table.
“Yes?” He blinks up at you, condescendingly begging, “Please, educate a poor, simple plebeian.”
You bite your cheek, teasing, “I don’t know if I can. He’s really only good at fucking.”
Matty rolls his eyes. “You’re missing the other reason I’m good with my hands.”
And he makes it easy to forget all about his cooking skills when he dips two fingers inside your wet entrance, pumping you slowly on the dinner table. God-given hands, made to bring you to the very edge and back. You curse, gripping the wood under your palms even harder.
“I’m waiting.”
You huff. “It’s microeconomics. It’s comparing comparative averages and absolute advantages of high.”
He grins. “Well, which one wins?”
“Comparative. It’s always better as you lose because the opportunity cost is smaller and— Oh, fuck—” Your legs tremble, your face scrunching as he hits the sinful spot inside of you that has you singing. You pant to catch your breath, groaning, “It’s better when you— Matty—”
“My smart girl,” Matty praises, curling his fingers inside of you just so. “You learned all of this already. Don’t even need to study that you’re fucking moaning it for me.” He plants a kiss on the top of your thigh. “It’s better when…”
Your mind is languid, euphoria pumping inside of you with the rhythm of his hand. You try to blink to conscience, peering down at him. “It’s better when the opportunity cost—” He makes rapid swipes at your clit and pleasure jolts through you. You shake your head. “You know what? You don’t need to know all this. You can just be dumb and pretty and warm my bed all day. Be my trophy husband.”
He snickers. “Yeah? Gonna make me your little housewife?”
You grin, volleying back, “Keep you cooking and fucking all day while I earn the big bucks, babe.” One hand rises up to his hair, digging into the mess of it. You smirk. “But you’d have to be very good for me. Keep me satisfied at all times.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” His fingers quicken, thrusting in and out of you until you’re whining for him. “I’d fill you up every night and leave you sticky and happy.” The wet sounds of your cunt fill the kitchen. You don’t doubt him for one second.
Your breath leaves in puffs out of your mouth. You tilt your head back, moaning for the ceiling, eyes wrinkled shut. Your hand tugs at his hair, rejoicing in his pathetic little groans. You fall back, smiling mischievously at him. “I thought you were hungry.”
His eyes flash. “Fucking famished.” He bends down and licks your cunt.
You jump, rolling your hips into his face, chasing those delicious reverbs. He licks at your clit with a pointed tongue, pressing into the sensitive bundle of nerves until honey ecstasy is spreading through your veins.
One hand fucks into you with calculated efficiency; hard and fast, just like you like it. The other holds your red underwear aside, fingers pressing into the meat of your thigh, leaving fingertip prints to remember him by.
“Matty!” Pleasure boils inside of you. You’ve missed his tongue, missed the way he tastes at you: starved, diligent, fucking slurping the last drop. You cry his name over and over, a sweet chant that encourages him on.
Thank fuck for his hands. They slide wetly inside of you, searching for hot ecstasy and pulling it out of you in drowning moans. You tug at his hair, grip the table, try to attach yourself to something as you;
“Matty, I’m—” He knows, of course, because you’re throbbing around his fingers. He circles your clit with his tongue, swiping at it, adding enough sinful pleasure that you feel your orgasm grow and grow. It expands in your belly, threatens your limbs; “I’m gonna—”
You come with a scream, falling apart on his tongue. He doesn’t slow yet. His mouth is hard at work, his fingers pumping into you still. He chases your orgasm until the end, until you’re shaking and whimpering from the intensity. You push his head, and only then does he release you, smiling up at you with sticky cheeks.
“Good?”
You brush his curls back, smiling happily. “You might earn yourself a weekly allocation if you keep it up, babe.”
“I’m the luckiest trophy husband in the world.”
You twist one of his curls around his finger, so light and elated that you feel no shyness or shame to say, “D’you want to see my room?”
He half-grins. “Yeah.”
You jump from the table, grabbing his hand. He lingers by the table just long enough to shoot back half of his wine glass in one gulp, slamming it down on the table with a satisfied sigh. It stands there with a stain of your slick in the shape of his lips.
You deadpan him. “Good wine shouldn’t be wasted,” he defends.
“I don’t even think you let it stay on your tongue long enough to taste it.”
You regret your choice of words as soon as you say them. Cursing, you already expect the joke when he quips, “Didn’t want to disrupt the other taste that’s in my mouth right now, you see?”
You roll your eyes. “It’s down the hallway,” you say, and tug at his hand until he follows.
You push the door into your childhood bedroom. It’s a clean, organized place, but it maintains its youthful element, like a time capsule. Matty steps in, intrigued. It’s the first time he’s ever been and he paces it with curiosity.
The shelves are decorated with childhood trophies; debate, math, punctuality. Even a participation medal from fifth grade soccer hangs on the corner. Thick, leather books mix with colorful cracked spines of YA literature on the bookshelf, along with fake plants and gaudy trinkets. The walls host picture frames of dental braced friends smiling wide. You have awful bangs in some of them and you stick your tongue out at the flash. On the bed, Mr Snuffles — a leopard plushie — lays like a king.
You flush. You hadn’t realized how childish your bedroom at home still was. You’ve got an uncomfortable need to tear it all down and build it back as a refined, clean look..
“Cute,” he says, and you want to bury straight into the ground. He taps a picture of prom where you hold the arm of a visibly nervous teenage boy. “Was that your little boyfriend who couldn’t make you come?”
“No, that was my friend. I wasn’t interested in dating back then. I was a very serious girl.”
He chuckles, turning back to you. He jokes, “Hard to believe now.” You shake your head, pretending to be bothered. He eyes the photograph once more. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” It comes squeaked out of your lips. You really didn’t expect the compliment.
He continues to inspect until you grow tired of it. You huff, deciding to go on the offensive until he takes a hint. “You know, I’ve actually never had any guy here before.”
Matty flips to you, grinning. “No?”
“No.” Your fingers fly to your collar and slowly start unbuttoning the top one, a silent invitation.
“Very, very serious girl.” Matty watches your fingers, devouring the skin you unveil for him. The cups of your red bra peek in view. His eyes grow dark, though he still doesn’t move to do it himself.
“I was very studious.”
You get to your very last button. The shirt parts, a cracked door vision into your needy body. Matty drawls, slow and nonchalant, unrushed, “Must’ve spent a lot of time with your hand between your legs, then, if no one’s been here before.”
You try not to grow embarrassed. You have spent a lot of time doing so, mostly in recent weeks. You push the shirt past your shoulders and it drops at your feet. Matty’s eyes immediately fall to your breasts, rising with panting breaths for him.
“Maybe,” you whisper shyly. You bend down to slip off your shoes, sliding your socks off your feet.
“Thought about me a lot during it?” He asks, cocky.
You straighten up again. You dig in your cheek, feeling both of them heat. “Maybe.” You find the zipper at your side and draw it down slowly, teasingly. Your skirt falls limply around your hips and you shimmy it down your legs.
It seems you’ve found yourself half-naked to a very much dressed Matty again. His gaze devours every inch of your skin, licking up your legs, biting your hips, teasing your navel. You grow wet between your thighs just from the promise in his eyes.
Your hand reaches behind yourself to your bra, but Matty tuts. “That’s mine,” he says, and there’s an air of danger in his voice. Your arms fall back to your sides, burned. You stand a bit straighter for him, aching deep inside yourself.
Matty takes long, slow steps towards you, letting the need boil and bubble inside of you. He stands before you, looking down into your eyes. Your lips part, your heart screams his name. He grazes two fingers along your waist, snaking to your back, and kisses you.
You respond with an eager tongue, opening your lips up to him and kissing him back. He still tastes like you, like your slick that dried on his cheeks. You shiver at the thought.
His hands find the small of your back, heavy and pressing into you, so fucking present you feel your mind twists on itself. You travel yours up his arms, finding his shoulders and sneaking into the hair at his nape.
He tilts his head to change the angle and your legs clench. He draws out all your wanton needs with his skilled tongue, makes you putty and malleable. You’re ready for him, for anything.
His fingers dance on your spine, climbing up each vertebrae until they catch on your bra band. Your breath hitches. He unhooks it. Matty stops kissing you to pull the bra off your arms.
Your breasts lay in view, pebbled and peaked. He takes a good look at them, then bends down to catch a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck, Matty!” Your hands twist at his curls, tugging and patting as he sucks and nips your tits.
He leaves bites on the underside, your sternum, kissing and licking down your stomach until he knees before you. You moan, still unused to the sight of him. Each hand hooks to a side of your underwear and he pulls it down and off your legs. You keep a stabilizing grip on his hair as you step out of it.
Matty comes back up to you, breathing harshly. He kisses your lips one last time, then draws you on the bed. You’re laying on the purple sheets for him, naked and wet and flushed. Every body part is aware of him and looks it.
Still, Matty takes a step back. “Show me what you do when you think of me.” You stare at him in shock. You’re naked for him, laying on your bed in godly offerance like a fucking daydream, and he wants you to finger yourself?
Matty laughs. “Come on, princess,” he teases. “Show Daddy.” The nickname jolts you. Tiny, electrical shivers run down your spine and you bite your lip, brushing a hand down your stomach.
You waste no time, too drunk on pleasure and want to bother teasing yourself. You part your legs and rub two fingers on your swollen clit, jumping at the sudden feeling. You bite your lip, cracking your eyes open to find Matty’s
His eyes watch you with obsession. You make a low whimper for him, circling your bundle of nerves, arching your back. A tantalizing show, hopefully enough to get him to touch you. You want him so deeply you’re shivering for him, hot and dripping all over.
You’re efficient and quick; you know all the spots of yourself and press them just so. Pleasure is not something you draw out, pumping and rubbing until you develop carpal tunnel. You’re in and out, wiping your fingers clean on your thigh.
It’s why you’re already dipping your digits inside yourself. You cry at the stretch, though never as delicious and fulfilling as his. Still, ecstasy runs through your body.
“Matty,” you moan, and once again hope the breathy, needy shape of his name in your mouth is enough to get him to replace your hardworking fingers.
“I’m right here, baby,” he says, transfixed by your hands, your mouth, your panting tits. You see his gaze and smirk, grabbing your breast and twisting the nipple. A low whine leaves you. “Fuck. Does that feel good?”
You nod furiously. Your fingers slide quickly in and out of you. “Not as good as you, though,” you pout.
Matty grins, cocky and a dick about it. “‘Course not.”
Your eyes flutter shut. You let yourself be taken over by the euphoria swimming through you. Your mouth calls his name like it was him making you feel this way and not the three fingers fucking into you. In a way, it’s the fact that he’s here that draws this overwhelming pleasure out of you. It’s never been this intense with yourself.
“What do you think of when you’re in your head?” He whispers, sounding affected by the spectacle you give him.
You bite your lip, trembling. “You. You on your knees for me behind the bar. You bending me over the sink of the bathroom in the middle of two guests. You letting me suck your dick on the staircase of the alleyway. You fingering me at The Darling in front of Landon until I fucking come all over the booth.”
“All these nasty thoughts while you’re tucked tight in your little bed?”
You nod. “I replay that night in the kitchen over, and over, and over. I know every little detail, everything you've done to me—” Behind your eyelids, graphic images of you pressed into the ground, giggling and coming, flash to you. It’s too much; you snap. Your eyes flash open. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”
“You need it?”
“I need it so, so bad.” Your wrist is tired between your legs. Still, you work, feeling the intensity build to an impossible degree. “Need you. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
“Shit,” he groans. You see the tent in his jeans and know he’s just as ready as you. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll give it to you.” A grin shines on your face. You clench around your fingers in excitement. “Just as soon as you come for me.”
You pout. A whiny cry comes out of you. “It’s not the same without you.”
“I know, baby,” he pouts, faux-broken over it as if he wasn’t the one putting you through this torture. “You’re doing so well for me. I wanna see you come now, though. Can you do that for me?”
Your stomach tightens and you know that you can, that you will. You’re still a little bitter, holding back as though in just a few seconds Matty was gonna get to his knees and finish you off yourself.
“Your clit’s feeling a little neglected, isn’t it?” You moan, pressing into your bud like he silently demanded. Your legs kick at the sensation. You arch your back, crying to the ceiling. “That’s it. You’re so close.” You rub and fuck until you can taste the ecstasy. Goddammit.
“You’re right there,” he says, and makes it true. You feel your orgasm threaten the edges of you. “Just a bit more. Come on, fuck yourself. Think of me, of my cock. That’s right, princess.” You scream, staring into his eyes. He devours each inch of you, so fucking eager. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right now. Come for Daddy.” With a mewl, your climax crashes through you.
Your body slackens, pleasure swooping through you in one grandiose wave. Relief washes you, and then the slight bitterness that it was all your own doing. Barely reeling from the orgasm and you’re already needing more.
You don’t ride out the climax; Matty rips your fingers out of you and sucks them into his mouth. You sigh at the sight as he rolls his tongue around your digits. It’s sinful the way he moans, like the best fucking meal of his life.
He releases them with a pop, then kisses your palm. “So good, babe. You did amazing.” He kisses your wrist. “You’re my little princess, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” you pout. His lips trail up your arm, tickling your sensitive skin. You shiver, moaning as he brushes your shoulder and licks up your collarbone.
“How do you want me? Since you’ve been thinking about it all the fucking time.” He kisses your neck. You moan, fluttering your eyelashes.
“I wanna ride you,” you breathe out.
Matty smirks against your skin. “Yeah? Gonna get yourself off on Daddy’s dick?”
You grin, nodding eagerly. “Gonna make you feel so good, too.”
He smiles. “Alright then, baby.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You sit on his lap like a throne. “Make me feel good.”
You shake your head, pulling his shirt up his chest. “Get naked first. I wanna see you.”
“She’s demanding.”
“It’s my fantasy.” Matty chuckles. Still, he tugs his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it beyond your bed.
You had been so drunk on his cock the first time it happened, you hadn’t been able to really get a good look at him. This time, your eyes lap up every inch of his skin, especially the tattooed ones. You draw the outlines of them with the tip of your fingers. He shivers at the feeling as you dance on his hip, his happy trail, his chest. You press a hand there, holding yourself up.
“Pants,” you order. You have a finely tuned demanding voice; you’ve led many school projects with an iron fist and an unarguable tone. Still, you know Matty only humors you when he obeys, kicking off his shoes, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them off.
His cock slaps his stomach. It’s hard and leaking, and your mouth waters at the sight. You feel your sticky thighs beg for him. Cunt fluttering, you take him in your fist, jerking him slowly. Matty moans as his head falls back on the pillows. Oh, you will like that. Already, the power rushes to your head, loosening it drunkenly.
You hoist yourself on your knees, then hesitate. Quickly, you grab your leopard plushie and turn him around until he faces the other way.
Matty stares at you in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
“Mr. Snuffles doesn’t need to see that!” You cry out, defensive.
“I can’t believe I’m about to shag in a bed with a stuffed toy right there.”
You raise your eyebrows, cocky. “Don’t get it wrong. I’m shagging you.”
Matty’s hands travel up to your hips, spreading over the bones possessively. He smiles up at you. “Do it, then. Fuck me.” You smile, taking his cock and leading it to your dripping cunt.
You line it up, then slowly slide down on his length. Loud, relieved moans leave your and Matty’s mouth. A shared song drumming up both your spines in harmony. You bottom out and think fucking finally.
“Oh, God,” you breathe, eyes rolling back. You take a second there, immobile, reveling in the heavenly moment. The way he fills you up so perfectly, stretches you in the most delicious ways. Your cunt throbs around him, eager.
He makes a low curse, digging his nails into your hips. You sense his becoming restless, the insistent way he presses into your skin, as though physically stopping himself from holding you in place and fucking up into him. Indulgently, you begin moving.
You haven’t been on top very often. You always used to find yourself sore and tired and bored after a few minutes, begging to either roll onto your back or end it right there. This time, however, there’s a practically all-consuming need to succeed. You want to fuck him, to permanently engrave his brain with the memory of you.
You come at it like schoolwork; focused, diligent, persistent. You attempt experimental thrusts at first, getting yourself used to how deep he hits you. It’s slow, tentative things; you try different angles, sliding in and out, frowning as you analyze the different ways pleasure blooms under your skin.
Under you, Matty groans, puffing out breaths. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”
You arch an eyebrow. “It was ‘what a smart girl’ thirty minutes ago, but now it’s ‘turn off your brain’?”
“Exactly. Want you to be fucked stupid now.”
You snort. “That’s not gonna happen.”
He hums, smirking. “Don’t give me a challenge.” You roll your eyes.
You settled on a rocking rhythm, something that hits all the perfect places inside of you. Your hair sticks to your nape, effort trembling your thighs already. You moan, roll your head back. “Like that?” You breathe out. Euphoria begins to prickle at your skin and your smile slackens your mouth.
“Yeah, baby,” Matty nods. “Just—” His hold on your hips is strangling. His hands clench, begging you to give something mindnumbing. “Go faster.”
You ignore his request, continuing that slow, teasing pace. You love feeling every inch of his cock as you buck on it, love to hear him grow desperate for you for a change. Every pathetic, quiet groan he makes resonates straight to your core. Head still rolled back to the ceiling, you rock stubbornly, smiling to yourself.
A particularly artful stroke has your nails digging into his chest. He shivers under you. “Fuck, faster,” Matty pants.
You smirk down at him, cheeky. “What’s the magic word, princess?”
Matty rolls his eyes. “Don’t get bratty,” he says, then gives your ass a warning spank. You jump at the sting, bucking on his cock. Low heat simmers through you. You bite your lip, quickening your thrusts dutifully. Matty smirks at you, all-knowing.
You speed up, falling back on his length again and again until the slapping sounds of your skins fill the room. You sense the resonating ecstasy pull at your stomach. You’re aware, unfortunately, that he’s right. It’s better, stronger.
“That’s right,” he says, and you want to slap that shit-eating grin off his lips. “Fucking faster.” You obey like some deep-seated instinct, bouncing above him.
A part of you wants to slow to a snail pace and teach him a lesson — get him reciting all those patience proverbs he’s so keen on — but a bigger part of you melts and drips at the ecstasy pulsing through you. Speedy, deep rolls have you shaking, moaning his name like a worship. You’re irrationally convinced you might die if you even try to slow down, like losing the pleasure he’s coaxing out of you right now would be a fatal crash.
Again, he gives you that teasing, devilish stares that tells you he’s well aware of the burning heat he causes you. His lips stretch up into a smirk, and he parts them to talk some more. You slap a hand over his mouth instead. “Shut it,” you warn. He laughs under your palm, too happy at your reaction.
His tongue sticks out, licking your hand childishly, and you release him. “You only like my mouth for one thing,” he says, pouting at you.
“Don’t give me ideas.”
“Want to sit on it again, huh?” He teases, cocking his head. “Maybe when you’re done fucking me.” He licks his teeth. “Though I doubt you’ll have the energy to sit up then. I’ll have to lay you down and clean you all up. Would you like that, baby?”
“Anything that doesn’t involve you talking.”
Matty hums, and you sense the danger in his tone. You’ve pushed him just a bit too far, and the low thrum of thrill resonates in your stomach. You hold your breath, sick apprehension bringing you sinful pleasure.
“You’ve got a mouth on you today,” he says. “Should’ve filled it up before I gave you what you wanted. Wouldn’t have so much to say if you were drooling and crying for my cock.” You wonder if that’s exactly what he’ll do; pull you off by your hips and onto your knees for a lesson.
Instead, his hand pinches your nipple, then snakes up your chest, your collarbone, spreading over your throat. You clench around him, lust flashing in your eyes, and he smiles at you. “My little slut,” he coos. “You’d let me do anything.”
You rock on him furiously, humping his lap to get rid of that building pressure in your core. Your mouth hangs open, pathetic whimpers spilling out every time your clit rubs on his pelvis. “Yes, Daddy,” you say in that sweet tone he knows is nothing but trouble.
“Touch your clit,” he orders, and you’ve got a hand flying between your thighs, swiping on the bundle of nerves with abandon. You mewl in his lap, fucking and rubbing until you’re dripping on him. When you’re halfway through a moan, pussy clenching around his cock, Matty presses into your neck.
The moan dies in your throat, mouth hanging open as a rush of adrenaline spreads through you. Your head swarms with silence, a sort of calmness buzzing and tingling under your face, and you feel every thrust of his cock he pumps up into you like a true hit of ecstasy. You whine, suspended in the moment.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers. You roll your eyes. “My girl.”
His fingers release your throat and the sudden breath of air buzzes through you. The world sharpens; you sense his cock, his skin under your palms, his hand still around your neck— like he owns you. Your cunt tightens at the idea, something pretty stringing up your spine. Pleasure intensifies, practically breathing with you, until your brain rushes with endorphins.
“There she is. So good for me now,” he says and your lips stretch up with a proud grin. You’re lazy on your bones, letting him rock you on his cock without a care. “You wouldn’t do this for anyone, would you?”
You shake your head fervently. “Only you.”
“That’s right,” he nods. “Only me.” He sneaks a thumb to your clit, pushing away your slack hand and working at it himself. “No fucking guy can make you feel like this.”
“I know,” you whine, and there’s the faint heartbreak of it tugging at the back of your mind. Nothing tangible, just the knowledge of what you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning and missing once he’s gone. Once you’re gone.
He lets go of your neck, dropping it to your waist, and you whine at the loss. It quickly turns into a moan as he uses both hands to guide you on his length properly. A quick, hard tempo sets, shaking your legs with growing pleasure. You feel him in the deepest part of you, hitting again and again that sweet spot as he puppeteers your freely given hips.
“God, Matty.”
He smirks. “That was redundant.” You roll your eyes, half from pleasure and half from annoyance. He chuckles at that, happily giving a deep stroke that has you purring for him, as though to prove his point.
You hold your weight up with a hand beside his head, drooping into the mattress. You tilt your hips, angling yourself perfectly for his drilling cock. Your face breaks open with a moan, but you shake your head. You force your eyes open to take in his face; sweaty and flushed and overwhelmed with pleasure and work. You lick your lips. Pleasure swirls in your belly, tightening and tightening until you have to believe you’ve driven yourself mad.
“Daddy,” you whine for him. Your free hand flies back to your thighs, rubbing at your clit until your lungs catch on fire. “Make me come,” you plea. “I need you. I need—” You press into your bud, groaning at the rush of ecstasy.
Matty laughs and the mean sound only drives you further into lust. You grip the sheets, trying to catch on fire. “Thought you were gonna shag me,” he mocks. “Thought you were gonna get off all on your own.” He tsks, bucking into you wildly, sounding out of breath as he adds, “But you need Daddy to make you come, don’t you?”
You shake your head, as if the evidence wasn’t dripping all over his cock, spilling from your lips in incoherent slurs. “No?” He says, again just as merciless in his taunting. He halts inside of you and you cry, shaking your head. “Do it, then,” he laughs.
He raises his hands up your waist, dancing on the ribs. He gropes your tits, circling the nipples. It becomes apparent to you that he’s not joking. You pout, finding your balance again and rising to your knees, falling back with thunderous force. Your legs shake; you’re exhausted and sore, whiny as you obey him.
“That’s it, princess,” he praises. It’s enough to spark some motivation. You furrow your eyebrows, bouncing on his cock, puffing breaths falling from your lips. Sweat pearls on your forehead, but you continue, undeterred. “God, you’re so fucking filthy.”
You mewl, redoubling efforts. You find something close to those quick, harsh thrusts Matty was giving, just slightly poorer. You fuck mindlessly, not bothering to rub your clit on his pelvis or find that delicious spot inside of you. Pleasure fills your mind anyway.
“Doing so well,” he moans. His fingers play with your nipples; your head pulls back, crying out. “Use my cock. Ride it ‘till you come all over it.” You whine, nodding fervently. “Need to feel you again,” he pants. “Need to feel that cunt as it fucking squeezes me.”
Ecstasy swarms through you. You moan, digging your claws into your sheets. You squeeze around him, over and over, a clear-tell warning. His name and a string of curses come out of your lips broken. He pinches your nipple.
“I’m gonna—”
“Ask,” he groans, a choking sound that rips out of him.
“Can I—” Your body trembles, the taste of climax spreading under your skin. You scrunch your face. “Daddy, please, can I—” You finish it with a moan, losing your train of thought.
“Use your big girl words,” he taunts, climbing one hand up. Your breath catches as he nears your neck; a swirling hit of excitement so true it makes you lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t linger, instead cupping your jaw and sticking his thumb in your mouth.
Your hips are artless and loose, sliding and rolling and thrusting without any reason. It’s wild, brutal strokes that have you drooling around his finger.
“C’mon, princess. I wanna hear you.”
He doesn’t slip his thumb out. You speak around his digit, drooling and slurring, incoherent. “Pleashe, pleashe, pleashe, Daddy, let me come. I want to come. I’ve been so good, I’ve— fuck, I’ve needed it for so long. Just—” You cry, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking deep in me.”
You take his hand away from your jaw, feeling spit drip down your chin as you spread it over your belly instead. “Fucking love you inside of me. Where you belong,” you moan.
“Fuck, yeah.” He pushes on your stomach, making you feel his cock sliding into you. Your mind rolls inside your skull, drunk. “Made for this cunt.”
“Made to make me come.” He nods again eagerly. Your hips stutter, exhausted. “Please, then,” you say, hopeful. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplea—”
“Come for me, princess.”
“Ah—” You convulse, dropping on his chest, a scream drowning in his shoulder as your climax hits you in one drowning wave. Ecstasy sparks under your skill, overwhelming.
Matty holds you in place with one soothing hand on your spine. Ruthlessly, he continues to fuck up into you, riding the end of your mindnumbing orgasm. “Fuck, I got you. Ride it out, princess. Ride it out on my cock. That’s it— Shit, I can fucking feel you.”
Your fingertips buzz pleasantly, and there’s the distant shape of his words in your ear. You grin, loose and happy, heart filling up with his name. “D’you feel good?” He asks, kissing your cheek. You nod, humming. “Yeah? Came so hard for me?”
“Yeah.” You moan, his cock still thrusting inside of you slowly, waking you up again. Your legs shake. You tilt your hips slowly, ever so slightly rolling them. Matty grins against your cheek, kissing it again and again.
He caresses your back, soothing away all those leftover shivers. “So fucking pretty when you come,” he promises. “The best girl. My best girl.” He grips your back, choking out, “Can you turn around for me?”
You whine, tired, but still straighten up on his lap. You hoist up with great efforts, turning around with shaky knees. He coos some congratulations, hooking an arm around your belly and laying you back up on his chest. You practically melt on it, back against his stomach, head tucked in the crook of his neck. Each thigh hangs from his knees and he spreads you wide open for him again.
“Don’t have to do anything, baby,” he breathes out, snaking a hand down your body to grab his still hard cock. “Let Daddy take care of you.” You groan, nodding in agreement. He likes himself up with your dripping entrance, then slides into you.
He allows you a single slow thrust to get used to the stretch again, then wastes no time mercilessly ramming inside of you. You grip the arm around your waist, digging your nails into his tattoos, barely holding on from the brutal pace between your thighs. You mumble a strange mix of his name and the word Daddy, blurring out of you with all those pathetic sounds you shamelessly let out.
You can tell he’s close too, chasing his pleasure with abandon, practically using you to get off. The knowledge makes burning heat spread through your lower belly. You throb around him, wanting him to come, to fill you up. Wanting him to feel as good as he makes you.
Matty smirks against your cheek. “Oh, are you gonna come again?” His hips snap quickly, taunting. You stutter a response, biting down a scream. “What’s that? Can’t hear you when you mumble.”
“Shit,” is all you manage to say, already feeling pleasure grow inside of you again. He’s delighted to find this, grabbing a pebbled breast and playing with it. “I— Fucking, I’m—”
He hums, licking your neck. “Does Daddy’s cock make you forget how to speak?” You tremble in his arms, hot shame filling up your mind, a strange, sinful heat that has you yelling out absurdities. Matty’s relentless between your thighs, knowing exactly how to prove his point.
His knees fall further on the bed, spreading your thighs wide open for him. He snakes a hand to your clit, rubbing at it with his palm. You jump in his arms, shaking your head. “Can’t—” It’s too much, too soon. You feel the edges of you unspool, unwind.
“Can’t what?” He teases, merciless. “Can’t think? It’s okay, baby. Just lay there and take it. I’ll do the rest.”
You practically buzz, incapable of taking in the pleasure that he’s already fucking and rubbing some more out of you. You choke, giving him some empty pleas, unsure of what exactly you’re even asking for.
“My dumb little slut,” he coos, kissing your cheek. “Fucked all stupid, as she should be.”
He dips his head in your neck, nipping and licking at the skin, peppering it with sweet love. It drowns your mind, makes it sticky and happy. You claw at his arm, desperate.
Matty’s legs shake under you. You know he’s growing tired too, ready to burst anytime. The knowledge pokes at your mind, hot and eager. You grind on his palm.
“Come in me,” you beg. You’ve completely relinquished the control of your tongue. “I’m on the pill now. Please.” Matty twitches inside of you.
“Fuck,” he groans in your neck, choked. “That right? Got on the pill specifically for me?”
You did, searching up doctors and prescriptions, belly humming with the idea of him not pulling out this time. “Yes.”
His hand leaves your breast, climbing up to your neck. You throb around him, reveling in his presence around your throat, the silent mark that he owns you. “Needed me to fill you up that fucking bad? To have my cum dripping out of you.”
“Yes,” you scream, wrinkling your face.
“Gonna come for me first, though, right? Be my good little girl and come.” Though the words trigger something in you, you shake your head stubbornly. You’re almost afraid of letting go, as though the building euphoria inside of you could crush you to death, could blow your skin off your bones. It’s safer here, just on the edge of the fatal.
His cock slams into you and his hand presses into your clit, driving you wilder and wilder. You choke a scream, feeling your limbs tighten in apprehension. You’re there, just there, and still you refuse.
All the sensations are too much. You call his name, the only word you seem to know. Pressure presses against your skin, threatening to burst. You feel yourself begin to cry.
Matty shushes you soothingly. “Oh, princess,” he says, kissing away your tears. “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m right there. I’ll catch you.”
You pout, shaking your head, sobbing from pleasure. It’s a useless fight; Matty presses into the sides of your throat and suddenly the world catches on fire. You’re flying into orbit, imploding with ecstasy, screaming his name and all the curse words you know in worship.
“Did so well,” Matty screams. “Fuck. Look at you coming all over my cock. What a good girl.” He releases your neck just when you come down from your high, shooting you up in another rush of pleasure. You moan, melting on him. “Gonna fill you up, now,” he warns. His words sound desperate, stretched thin. “Gonna come so deep inside of you, you’ll feel me for days. D’you want that?”
“Yes!”
His hips stutter. He twitches inside of you. “Say it— Shit.”
“Fill me up, Daddy!”
“Ah, fucking hell—” He comes inside of you with a cry of your name, shaking under you. He groans, shaking, washed with pleasure. He continues fucking into you mindlessly, slower and slower, until he’s stopped, panting. His hold on you is murderous; it’s like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him in his most vulnerable state.
You watch him, observe his solemn face as he lingers in ecstasy, eyes shut and smile wide. Your chest warms, a grin teasing your own lips. Sweat and tears and drool dries on your face.
Matty softens inside of you. His cock slips out, cum spilling out of you. You moan at the feeling, getting on your elbows to watch the spectacle. Still laying down and catching his breath, Matty plunges two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in your cunt just so you can watch it fall again. You shiver, falling back on him with a sigh.
“God,” he says. “I’m too old to fuck in twin beds.” You laugh in surprise and he snickers with you, his chest drumming against you. “You’re rich. Why don’t you have a king sized bed and feather pillows or some shit?”
“I’m sensible,” you say, sticking your tongue out. You roll to your belly beside him, finally letting him take a full breath. He stretches on your mattress, taking up almost all the space. It’s a little ridiculous, this man in your childhood bed.
You smirk, traveling down his chest and stopping near his soft cock. You lick the length, sucking him into your mouth to clean the mix of your wetness and his cum. He jumps, sitting up to push you anyway. “Fucking— Do you want to kill me?”
You laugh, falling back on the pillows, cheeky. “See? Not so easy.”
“Well, you’re young and healthy. I expect more of you.” Matty opens his arm, inviting you to tuck your head in his shoulder. Your arm drapes over his chest, halfway across his tattoo. “When’s your dad gonna be back?” He yawns.
“I don’t know,” you admit. It’s always up in the air; often, you don’t know he even came back until you wake up to the strong smell of Ethiopian coffee and the ghost of him in the flat. You shrug, “You could always sneak out if he’s there in the morning.”
Matty rubs his face. “Ugh, I feel like a teenager.”
You rest your chin on his shoulder, teasing, “Shouldn’t fuck such a young, innocent girl, then.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Innocent? You’ve seen the things you’ve done on my dick?”
“Shut up.” Quieter, you mumble, “I don’t think Mr. Snuffles’s ever gonna be able to unhear tonight.” His laughs rocks you, resonating against you. You grin on his skin.
You nuzzle further into his warmth, exhaustion settling in your bones. His arm warms your waist, pulling you further into him. You know you need to clean yourself up soon, but you allow yourself a short moment to relish the shape of him.
He tugs you out of sleep by piping up, voice sticky-tired, “If you want, I know the best fucking scallop place in town. We could go tomorrow.”
Halfway asleep, you say, “I’d like that.”
#this is. the Nastiest filthiest thing i’ve written#i may have gone overboard#but hey happy linecook resurrection!#linecook!au#matty healy fanfic#matty healy fic#matty healy x reader#matty healy smut#smut#writing#matty healy imagine#the 1975 smut#the 1975 fic
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Spontaneous G.W. x Reader
Warnings: one swear word
Word Count: 3k
Pairing: George Weasley x Reader
Summary: You were rich, pretty, smart, and everything George wasn't. According to George, you were untouchable. He admires you from afar until he learns that you are human, just like him
Masterlist
“I think you’ve got enough strawberries George.” Fred laughed, waving his hand in front of George’s face. George blinked, coming out of a trance to finally tear his eyes away from the girl that had him captivated and look at his plate. He had about 15 strawberries dangerously stacked next to his toast and waffles. Ten minutes ago he had been starving, ready to eat Fred if he had to until you walked in, laughing with your friends. He didn’t even see you at first since he was so preoccupied picking out his breakfast but he heard you. Someone must have said something hilarious because your laugh seemed to echo around the Great Hall, bombarding George from all angles. He loved it. Your laugh sounded like the crescendo in a song, taking his breath away. He had been red in the face and sweaty before he even saw you. When he finally did look at you, it was all over. You moved so gracefully, you could have been floating. George watched you talk with your friends and when he saw your smile, he forgot all about his grumbling stomach.
Fred turned to look over his shoulder and when he caught sight of you, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. “Here’s an idea Georgie,” Fred grumbled, “stop staring at her and go talk to her.”
“Yeah mate, it’s weird. I’m uncomfortable for her.” Lee Jordan chimed in, reaching across the table to grab some toast.
“I will have you know I have talked to her.” George huffed, carefully dismantling Strawberry Tower, moving the discarded ones onto Lee’s plate.
“Talking about the weather doesn’t count.” Lee snorted, happily eating the food now added to his plate. George opened his mouth to retort but Lee continued. “Neither does telling her good morning or asking her about the homework.”
“Or apologizing when you ‘accidentally’ bump into her in the halls.”
George glared and threw a strawberry, aiming for Fred’s nose. Much to his disappointment, Fred ducked and the strawberry rolled away. “I have talked to her. Small talk counts as talking if you didn’t know.”
Lee rolled his eyes. “Sure but you’ve been in love with her since third year. Small talk isn’t going to make her fall for you. Just go up to her and tell her you’re in love with her and hope she feels the same. If she doesn’t,” Lee shrugged, “at least you know.”
“That is the stupidest thing you have ever said Lee. And you once asked McGonagall if she licks herself clean when she’s a cat.” The three boys shuddered at the memory. “I’ll talk to her about something normal. Something that will make her want to keep talking to me.”
---
“Do you ever wonder if McGonagall licks herself clean when she’s a cat?” George stood in front of you, hands sweating and his eyes going wide as he realized what just came out of his mouth. Something normal indeed.
“Pardon?” You cocked your head to the side, watching George with those beautiful eyes he could spend forever staring into.
“I just mean that maybe she acts like a cat does and that’s how they bathe. So maybe she…” He trailed off, hearing the giggles coming from your friends behind you. “Sorry, that was… weird.”
You smiled and George could feel his heart stop. He was going into cardiac arrest, he just knew it. “A little but a very good question all the same.”
He died. There was no way he was alive. The real you would have never even entertained his question, let alone call it a good one. He stared at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He should say something, something smooth. If he could just lay on the charm like Fred does so well, you’d be putty in his hands. “Do you think that means she goes to the bathroom in a box?” Oh. My. God.
George spun on his heel and took off sprinting down the hall. He was the biggest idiot on the planet.
George lay in his bed, hands covering his face as Fred and Lee practically rolled on the floor with laughter. “So you– I mean you really asked her if McGonagall uses… a box?” Lee burst into another fit of giggles as Fred gasped for air. “George, I think you did it mate. I think she’s in love with you now.”
A scarf came flying from the bed, landing harmlessly on Lee. “I hate both of you!” George grabbed his pillow, burying his face in it. The laughter died down and once the other two felt they could talk without falling into another laughing fit, they climbed onto his bed.
“George, you’ve never had this much trouble talking to a girl before. You’ve always been pretty smooth. Not like me but you have never struggled to talk to anyone. Why is she so different?” Fred grabbed the pillow, making sure his twin was still breathing.
“Why is she different? Have you not seen her, Fred?” George sat up, looking at his hands. “First of all she’s gorgeous. Ethereal. Stunning. All that and more. She’s funny. I’ve heard her make a few jokes and they’re great; some of them are almost as good as ours. She’s smart and talented and nice and just perfect. That’s the problem.” He sighed and glanced at his brother and friend, glad to see they were now taking him seriously. “She’s from this really well off family. Her parents are both ministry workers but not like dad, they have important jobs. Her family has been full of powerful witches and wizards for centuries but they have never acted like others are less than. I heard she’s been ballroom dancing since she was seven. Her family is rich. She's a lady and I’m just…George Weasley. She would never want to talk to me. Or date me for that matter.”
This had not been the first time George or any of the other Weasley boys had felt less than because of what they didn’t have. George had never seen your house but he assumed it was big enough to fit the Burrow inside it at least three times. He knew your family had money. Meanwhile the Weasleys were just scraping by. You were the kind of girl that should have been a princess while George was nothing more than a stable boy. Not even the court jester because a jester would have to be able to speak to you.
“George, you aren’t giving her a chance to give you a chance. You’re making her seem untouchable. She’s human too.” Fred patted him on the back and smiled. “I say, tomorrow you talk to her, like a person. Talk to her like you talk to me.”
“So I should call her a stupid git?” George smirked before getting a pillow to the face.
---
Today was Saturday and just as he had promised, George was going to talk to Y/N. He just had to find her. He checked out the Great Hall and there was no sign of you. Then he checked out any open classrooms he could find and you weren’t there either. He went to the library and had no luck. In fact, he was kicked out for yelling your name while looking for you. By this time, George was exhausted and sure his legs would fall off any minute if he didn’t sit down soon. The lake was close enough that he could kill two birds with one stone; he could look for you and take a break before his lack of legs would make it very easy to tell the difference between him and Fred. As luck would have it, he spotted you sitting under a tree not too far from the edge of the lake. His heart willed him to move toward you but his brain kept his feet firmly planted. This was stupid. He should leave you alone and move on to find some girl that would make more sense. Someone that was not out of his league. At some point, his heart convinced his brain to start walking toward you. The first thing he noticed was the letter in your hand and the next thing he saw were the tears on your cheeks. Yikes. Just back away slowly Georgie, he thought to himself. Take small, quiet steps and you can sneak away before—
“George?”
Shit. He plastered on his best smile and tried to pretend like you weren’t crying right in front of him. “Hey there Y/N. How are you? Probably not great considering the… crying.” George closed his eyes, mentally slamming his head on the nearest tree. It was honestly amazing how great he was at screwing up. He should be given some kind of award. “I’m so sorry. I just walked over and saw you crying and I don’t know what to do with crying people and I’m really nervous to screw up here.” Neither spoke for a minute as you looked up at him. Seeing your usually sparking eyes filled with tears broke his heart, shattered it actually. All he wanted to do was take you in his arms and make it all better. Just talk to her like a person.
Slowly, George approached you, afraid you would take off running or yell at him. When you made no move to sprint away, he sat next to you. “I’m sorry. You make me really nervous but I’m a good listener. Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”
You were silent for a long time but he didn’t dare move or talk. Honestly, he didn’t think you would tell him what was wrong because why would you? Fred and Lee were right. He had only ever had small talk with you.
“It’s my parents.” Your voice was so soft George almost didn’t hear you. Oh. George nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. “You know they’re in the ministry right?” Boy did he know. George had heard from his father about your parents. Your father was part of the Wizengamot, the part of the ministry that makes laws and holds trials. He was a big name in the ministry. Your mother was part of the Department of International Magic Co-Operation. Her whole job involved getting wizards and witches in other countries to work together. She played a big part in getting Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to come to Hogwarts this year for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. George’s father was also in the ministry but his job was practically the least important position there was. He spent his days finding Muggle items that had been tampered with and reporting them, even if he committed the same crime in his free time. He didn’t make much money at all and it left the family of nine struggling.
“Yeah, my dad has mentioned them a few times.” He tried not to sound bitter as he answered you but it was hard not to.
“They want me to join the ministry when I graduate. They made sure my grades were perfect and after taking my O.W.L.s, they hand picked my classes and set me on the path to join the ministry. My mother even signed me up for a summer program at the ministry just so I have a better chance at joining.” You took a deep breath and looked over at George. You had fresh tears in your eyes as you continued. “I don’t want to join the ministry. They have such high expectations of me and I don’t want to let them down but I don’t want to be in the ministry.”
“What do you want to do?” George understood where you were coming from. Him and Fred had plans and dreams to open a joke shop, something their mother did not support. She wanted them to finish school and get some boring job like the rest of the wizarding world. They didn’t want to disappoint her either but their happiness had to come first at least sometimes. George and Fred would never be happy sitting behind a desk all day or chasing down bewitched muggle items. They wanted to bring joy and raise up a new generation of delinquents. That was the dream.
“Well,” you started as you turned to look at the lake, “I think I want to be a healer. I’ve always been good at potions and herbology and basic spells used for healing.”
“And your parents don’t want you to do that?” As you shook your head, George scoffed. “Why? I think being a healer is a perfectly respectable job. You aren’t trying to run off and live in a cave for the rest of your life.”
You let out a small laugh and George felt like he was floating. He made you laugh after you had been crying. He could die happy. “I agree with you but they think that working for the ministry is the only job worth having. They just want me to be successful. They’ve spent my whole life preparing me for the future they want me to have. Dance lessons and internships and anything else that makes me into whatever it is they want me to be.”
“Happiness is more important than success. Who says that being happy doesn’t mean you’re successful?” George ran his fingers through the grass. “My mother sounds a lot like your parents. Fred and I want to open up a joke shop. She thinks that we’ll be throwing away our potential if we go ahead with it.”
You looked back at George and watched him closely as he kept his eyes on the ground. He was pretty. He had the warmest brown eyes you had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “I think a joke shop sounds like a wonderful idea. Personally I can’t imagine you or Fred working at the ministry or any normal job for that matter.” George laughed and nodded. “What will you do?”
He thought for a moment, continuing to look at the ground because he knew as soon as he looked at you, he would forget everything. “Fred and I are opening the joke shop when we have the money. I think our mother will be disappointed for a while but we aren’t made to work in an office. Besides, she’s our mother so our happiness should take priority over anything else.”
“I wish I could be like you George. You sound like you have everything.”
He turned his head to look at you so quickly he thought he snapped his neck at first. You thought he had everything? You were jealous of him? “I thought you had everything. A big house, rich parents, grades, popularity. You have everything.”
You shook your head and smiled at him. “Really? I always wanted a big family that would spend time together. You have always seemed so sure of yourself and confident. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do or who to be. George, you’re spontaneous and perfectly you. I wish I could be like that.”
George smiled as your eyes found his and then time stopped. He was distantly aware of the wind rustling the trees and the sounds of other students talking but all he could see was you. Your eyes, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. “Then let’s do something spontaneous.” With great effort, George tore his gaze away from you and looked around. The lake caught his eye. “Come swimming with me.”
He grabbed your hand and stood, pulling you to the lake until you stood at the edge. Without waiting for you, George ran into the water, dressed in jeans and his t-shirt. Behind him, you stood at the bank. Should you be doing this? Probably not but it would make you happy. George made you happy. It was time to put your happiness first. You took off after him, squealing at the cold water. “You didn’t say it was this cold!”
“I didn’t want it to scare you away.” George laughed, cupping his hand to launch water at you. The water slammed into you and with a harmless glare, you retaliated, sending your own wave of water at him. The two of you continued to splash each other until George held up his hands in defeat.
As you both caught your breath, George moved to sit on the bank, the water lapping at his feet. You took a seat next to him and bumped your shoulder against his. “What do you plan to do now?” He asked, bumping you back.
“I’m going to tell my parents I don’t want to be in the ministry. I’ll talk to my head of house about switching some courses around to get on the right path to becoming a healer.”
George smiled. “I’m proud of you.”
He looked at you and you looked at him. George saw you like no one else. He heard you complain about your parents and instead of siding with them, as most people did, he agreed with you. He thought your happiness mattered more than what your parents wanted. “Thank you George.”
“For what?”
“For listening, making me laugh, making me feel… human.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing. “I should go write that letter to my parents. I wouldn’t want to lose all the nerve you gave me.”
George watched you go, his hand coming up to the spot where your lips had touched his cheek. His face turned red as he replayed the kiss over and over again. Fred and Lee were not going to believe this. They were going to kill him if he just let you walk away after that. He clambered to his feet and sprinted after him. “Y/N! Wait!” He waved his arms, trying to get your attention. You stopped in your tracks and looked back at him, watching him chase after you.
“Yes George?”
“I was… Well I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” He held his breath, waiting for the rejection to come.
“I would love to. I’ll see you later Georgie.” With another kiss to his cheek, you walked off. Next Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.
#george weasley#george weasley imagine#george weasley x reader#george weasley x y/n#george weasley fanfiction#george weasley fluff#fred weasley#harry potter fanfiction#hp fanfic
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♡Daydreaming of you
Summary: It was the celebrety awarding show , The band Tokio Hotel got invited but so does a certain girl that Bill catches his eye on .
Bill kaulitz x reader
( Sorry if this is bad and not like them at all i just felt the need to write about them I've been obsessed with the Kaulitz twins since i saw them on my for you page on tiktok😭)
(I also posted this on wattpad my user is :
@bill-simp-mihooo on wattpad )
(I am also accepting request , just give me a dm on either wattpad or here just give me a situation and a band member)
Word count : 3k
(Side note:The reader is a female and a celebrety here)
*This is also inspired by that one Ariana Grande song : Daydreaming*
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(h/l) = hair length
(h/c) = hair color
(s/g) = song genre
(Y/s)= Your song
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As all the people started to walk in , only one person was on his mind , he kept on thinking of her , day and night his own head seemingly stuck of the lone thought of her , the way she smiles ,the way she walks, the way she talks , the way she makes him feel inside , every move she does - it felt like a lightning shock everytime , just one look from her always takes his breath away in an instant.
As she walked in smiling like an angel towards everyone , waving her hands in an angelic manner , his eyes still lingered on her form , a small but noticable smile crept up on his face .
As his eyes fixated on her for a little more, Tom suddenly tapped on his brothers shoulder .
"What are you looking at?" Tom asked confused , his brows raising slightly .
"No one" Bill said defensively as he stopped looking at the girl his heart and mind longed for .
"You don't usually act this way, you good?" Tom asked as he looked more confused, a hint of worry evident in his voice.
"I'm fine don't worry" said Bill calmly as he stopped looking at Tom as he slowly put his attention to the stage pushing his thoughts of the girl just a few rows infront of him.
The award show starts, the announcer introduced himself loudly and proudly to the watchers.
"Hello! Hello! Everyone and Good evening to everyone who attended ! Welcome to the biggest awarding show of the year!" The announcer said loudly yelling onto the mic , after he said his introduction, the crowd clapped and some yelled .
"Damn this guys loud"Tom complained as he mockingly put his fingers in his ears as he laughed.
Georg and Gustav saw what Tom did as they laughed with him , But Bill's mind was still thinking of the girl sitting right infront of him.
The others were confused at Bill and stared at what Bill was staring at .
As they saw a young girl probably their age , (h/l) and her (h/c) locks styled perfectly , her face like they were sculpted by the gods carefully with love,she was like venus - beautiful and everlasting,it was like the whole world was around as she sat there quitely.
"So that's what you were looking at huh , " Tom said as he slightly leaned closer to Bill's ear making sure he heard what he said .
"That's why you weren't paying attention earlier " Georg teased aswell , as they smirked to each other .
Gustav seemingly just minding his own buisness ,still kept his attention to the loud announcer.
"W-what no" Bill defending himself , but an evident red hue on his cheek and his ears red was enough for them to know
"Uhuh really?" Tom teased Bill more not believing on what his brother was saying.
Bill's cheeks were growing more red and reder by the second as his brother and Georg's constant teasing continued.
Bill huffed, annoyed at his brother and friend's teasing as he looked at the other direction , turning away from both of them.
"Now that we have introduced ourselves !! I would like to thank the band Tokio Hotel for attending!" the announcer loudly exclaimed as he pointed into the four boys.
Bill smiled as he waved to the camera that was now pointed at them , Tom did the same but with a smirk on his face ,as he looked seductively into the camera , Gustav awkwardly ,waving with a shy smile on his face , Georg also waved to the camera with a proud smile plastered on his face.
"And i would also love to say thank you for Miss y/n for attending this evening!" the announced yelled once more towards the mic as he pointed towards the singer
The sudden call of the name made everyone turn to the direction of the girl , she was widely smiling to the camera as she waved her slender hands .
Bill turned , a small smile on his face , his cheeks pink slightly as the camera pan into them again
His stare still on her even when her introduction was over , in his mind and eyes it has been all about her .
Ever since their first meeting in another celebrety show , their small interaction held closely to his heart.
---()---()---()---()---()--()
The weather was seemingly worsening by the second , the clouds were becoming darker and dim .
The famous event was being held outside , so the thought of the event being ruined by the weather was making the host nervous by every second
The guess started to arrive , cars were starting to pack the driveway by the minute.
The bus where the four boys was held arrived , the crowd of Paparazzis turning their attention and cameras to the four boys as they slowly got off the vehicle
The group exiting the vehicle , while their Bodyguards was protecting them from the manic and persistent crowd .
The teen boys went to where the event was being held , the crowd were loudly screaming , but they pay no mind as they continued
Bill and Tom waved at the camera's pointed at both of them , So does Gustav and Georg , they all looked at cameras pointed at them with smiles on their faces .
The Abnoxious cameras flickering at their every move , but then another bus pulls up , the sudden apperance of the vehicle were taking some of the attention off of them .
The bus door opened , and a young woman stepped out of the vehicle .
While she stepped out she had a proud smile plastered on her face as she look around the place and the crowd.
The crowd chanting 'Y/n!' as she walked out , Some of the Paparazzi ran off to where the girl is .
The boys looking confused to who that person may be , they looked at the person the Paparazzi were going insane and crazy for , untill they looked and scanned the girl fully .
She was absolutely breathtaking , a beauty ,like a flower in a grassfield, Bill was more fixated at the beautiful young woman , his eyes scanning her face for a few more minutes , as his heart started to beat rapidly ,she was as beautiful as he first saw her,she was a never ending beauty and he knew it. His eyes never left her figure as his lips parted with admiration and surprise.
Bill felt confused by the new feeling he felt , his eyes still focused on the girl .
Tom started to shake his twins shoulder from behind as he said .
"What are you waiting for come on" Tom said clearly annoyed at his brother for not paying attention while they continued walked into the event .
"Right" Bill countered his voice also filled with annoyance clearly in his tone.
They walked in the reception , Bill was still confused at the feeling he felt earlier , zoning out while people started to interview them .
"So did any of you get a new tattoo?" the interviewer asked while pointing the mic at the four boys .
Tom was growing more and more annoyed at his twin for not paying attention and zoning out again ,he wrapped an arm about Bill as he shaked him slowly .
Bill coming to his senses asked "What was the question again?" Bill asked confused and embarrassed but still managed to smile to cover up his embarrassment, since a huge amount of people was watching them .
"Oh the question was , Did any of you get a new tattoo?"the interviewer repeated his last question .
"I actually did , i got a new tattoo on my stomach" Bill said excitedly as he suddenly lifted his shirt slightly proudly showing his star tattoo off to the camera , trying to remove the image of the girl in his head .
"I actually also got a tattoo near down there , it's really painful" Tom jokingly said while nodding his head as he pointed at his crotch .
The crowd of people laughed at Tom's joke while some of them clapped.
"So what about their love life? Does any of you got a girlfriend?" the interviewer asked .
"Actually none of us has a girlfriend right now , i don't know about Tom tho" Bill said jokingly as the crowed roared with laughter.
The interviewer asked them more questions but their interviewing time was coming to an end.
"I would love to thank the four of you for coming again" The interviewer exclaimed thanking the boys .
"It's not a problem it's an honor to be here" Bill told , after he said that he clapped his hands excitedly .
The guards escorted them out the room to head back to their bus , but the bus was too far away and some crazy fans started to chase them .
The guards were trying their best to push the manic fans out of the four boys paths but their efforts was in vain since some fans managed to get close to the boys .
Bill and Tom looked at the crowd awkwardly , but more and more fans started to get pass them as their bodyguards try to push them back.
Bill was staring at the crazy fans for a few more seconds but then Tom grabbed Bill's arm as he started to drag bill to the opposite direction , trying to avoid being crushed by manic fans .
Tom still holding onto Bill's arm manages to loose his grip on his twin .
Before Tom realised it the two of them was separated .
Bill no longer feeling his brothers tight grip felt panicked since fans are managing to get pass security , When Tom dragged them out of the crowd he ran away from the bus making it harder for Bill to get back.
Bill still running and hiding in an alley , managing to loose the crazy fans trail .
His breathing was irregular , he lost his breath like he ran a marathon .
But then a noise catching his attention to his left while hiding.
A figure ran to the alley he was hiding at , Bill stuck out his head from his hiding spot , suddenly feeling shocked.
It was the young woman from before he thought .
Fans footsteps was getting closer as Bill yanked the girls arm to where he was hiding to not reveal them .
He realised too late on how close they are , red staining his cheek but still trying to keep a straight and concentrated face , the girl peeking her head slightly to see if the fans were gone .
Time flies their bodies still pressed against each other Bill's arms pinning the girl and the other one making sure that no one sees them by holding her closer to his body .
When Bill saw that no one was there anymore , He let's go of the girl pinned against the wall.
Realising how awkward their position must have been he was profusely apologizing to the girl .
"I'm sorry, i just didn't want us to get found" He apologizes more cheeks glowing red , recalling how close they were .
"It's fine don't even worry about it , if you weren't there to help me i would have been stomped by the Paparazzi" The girl sheepishly admitted to the raven haired boy.
"It's no problem don't even worry about it" he said a small smile creeping up on his lip.
The girl stuck out her hand for a handshake .
"My names Y/n" The girl introduced to the boy.
"I'm Bill kaulitz" He told back to the beautiful woman shaking her hand back .
Awkward silence started to swallow them both .
Bill not liking the silence spoke up , while he sat down on the ground.
"So Y/n are you a singer or an actor?" Bill asked while sitting down on the ground, looking up at the girl.
"I'm a singer actually"Y/n said while she also sat down close to Bill , leaning to the dirty wall.
"What kind of music do you make? Pop , Rap , Rock?" Bill getting more excited after knowing that the girl is a singer like him .
"s/g actually , You're the vocalist in tokio hotel right?" The girl getting more comfortable talking to the young man asked .
"Hm i think I've heard one of your songs before actually" Bill admitted with a small smile on his face .
"Really what is it?"The girl smiling at Bill looking him in his hypnotizing dark raven eyes.
"Y/s" Bill said .
"Oh that one ! That was one of my most popular song actually" Y/n said excitedly .
"I like it , i have heard it on the radio" Bill said towards the girl .
The girl smiling in response .
"I've heard some of your songs before actually , Moonsoon is it?" the girl excitedly asked the boy.
"Oh that one , the german version or english?" the boy asked .
"English , Also i can't stop noticing how beautiful you are , you're prettier than me!" the girl fondly said the boy , making his cheek turn slightly pink.
"No I'm not , You're prettier !" he said pointing at the girl .
"No you are!" the girl countered with a huge smile on his face also pointing at him .
"No you!!"
"No you!!!!"
"No you!!!!!"
"No you are!!!!!"
They both fought with their words , both growing annoyed .
But then stopped , seconds of silence passed as they both bursted out laughing at each other loudly .
Before they both realised it , they were staring at each others eyes , the silence becoming more comfortable and not awkward anymore .
The girl smiled warmly at the boy , so did he ,but then .
The sudden appearance of the Bodyguard of the girl he was staring at surprised them both .
Bill's Bodyguard showed up too , almost missing him since he was still hiding in the shadowy dark alley.
"Over here" Bill said in a soft hushed voice , only enough for his bodyguard to hear him .
Once his Bodyguard saw him , he suddenly dragged Bill away not leaving any time to at least say goodbye to the young woman he was happily talking too .
While being guarded away from the alley , Bill peeking his head to see if the girl is still there .
But to only see her being escorted too by her own guards , shielding her away from crazy fans .
Bill still looking at the back of the girls head, almost tripped because he wasn't looking to where he was going.
Saw the girl he was just talking too staring at him too with an awkward smile on her face , motioning her hands in a waving manner .
Bill doing the same waved his hands saying goodbye to the girl he hopped to see again .
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Bill stopped daydreaming coming to his senses , started to pay attention to the announcer talking.
But then on the corner of his eye , the woman he was just daydreaming about was staring at him , excitedly waving at the dark haired boy.
Bill doing the same waved awkwardly not knowing what to do .
Tom and Georg seeing their interaction smirked at each other , grinning mischievously.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
The event coming to an end since the wimner was already announced .
The cameras suddenly pointing at all the celebrety who has attended .
Once the camera was pointed at them the four of them smiled again while waving goodbye to the audience .
Once the event has ended , the four teen boys was getting escorted again outside to where their bus was.
But then a sudden call to the vocalist caught his attention.
It was the girl he was staring at running towards him calling out.
" Bill wait" the girl exclaimed while running.
Tom looking at his brother with a teasing smirk , while he started to shake his brothers shoulder saying "My man" jokingly to him now patting his back as he walked away giving the two privacy to talk.
Bill turning his attention towards the girl looked at her smiling brightly .
"Nice to see you again Y/n" Bill said getting closer the girl almost hugging her in excitement but stopped as soon as he realised what he was doing, his cheeks slightly red.
"Bill it's so nice to see you again" the girl said looking at the tall emo boy.
"Right , same with me , I'm sorry i couldn't say bye last time" Bill said sheepishly while rubbing his neck awkwardly .
"It's not problem no need to be sorry , I'm sorry i couldn't do the same" the girl said understanding the boys situation .
"I didn't know how to contact you last time so here" The girl said taking the boys hand placing a piece of paper carefully on the boys palm.
"Call me ok?" the girl confidently said like no one was listening and looking at them .
"R-right I-" Bill said stuttering not knowing what to do and say.
"Also , You're prettier !!" the girl childishly yelled.
But before he could disagree the girl ran off to the opposite direction , peeking again and smiling as she ran to where her bus is.
Bill shocked at just what happened , but a smile crept up on his face , as he looked at his palm with the piece of paper , opening it slowly .
'Call me xxxxxxxxx' the paper said .
Bill holding the piece of paper on his hand as he looked at the girls bus window .
The girl already looking at him through the window waving goodbye motioning a 'call me' hand symbol .
Bill not knowing what do to frozen again , while staring at girls bus .
But then Tom aggresively patted his twins back saying , "My man you just got a pretty girls phone number"Tom said proudly while dragging Bill to their bus with an arm around him.
Bill not paying attention looked at the piece of paper again , making sure he wasn't looking at it wrong.
After checking a few more times and making sure that 'Call me' was actually written and he wasn't just hallucinating .
He felt excited while entering the bus holding onto the paper carefully while smiling to himself getting excited to talk to the pretty girl again.
▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一-- ---- ----- ------- ----- -------
(Sorry if the ending is rushed do you guys want a part two?)
Ill try to fix this more and don't mind the typos please😭😭
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mastermind, part one - theodore nott
hi omg im back😍🙌
ok so this is part one of a series called "mastermind" (inspired by the song “mastermind” by taylor swift). its a theodore nott fic and starts from the beginning of sixth year until the end of seventh, im literally making it up as i go😍🙏.
academic rivals, enemies to lovers, one bed trope, heavy angst at times and all that so enjoy😋😋
this ones a short one for now but part two is halfway done and should be out sometime this weekend🤞🤞
please lmk what you think: what were your fav parts? anything i should change?
and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))
warnings: none for now<33
mastermind, masterlist
✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚
“Hey, wait on!”
I turn around to see Hermione running to catch up with me, her suitcases on her trolley and her cat happily meowing in its cage.
“Hermione!” I exclaim as I give one of the trolley boys my trolley and go to hug her.
“Oh my gosh I haven’t seen you in ages!” she sighs as she hugs back tightly.
“I know, you promised to write, why didn’t you?” I say.
“Oh shush, it’s not like you sent me any care packages anyways.” she replies as she links our arms and starts leading us to one of the carriages once we’ve taken our pets off.
Hermione and I have been friends since the beginning of our first year, before we were friends with Ron and Harry actually.
To say that my mother was happy with our friendship is a huge lie.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Even her name disgusts me, much less the things she’s done.
She was mortified. I still remember the look on her face when I brought Hermione over one time.
“A mudblood?” she had exclaimed.
“Why on earth would you want to be friends with the likes of them? You’re surely not my daughter, that’s for one thing.”
Hermione and I both knew what rejection felt like. Her, with most of the pureblood Slytherins, and me, with my pureblood Slytherin family.
My aunts and uncles are probably the worst of the bunch surprisingly.
Lucius and Nesta Malfoy.
Even their names are filled with poison.
Not to mention my cousin. Draco.
What a horrible waste of a family.
My uncle, Sirius, is the only one in the family who understands me. Coming from a highly Slytherin pureblood family, we were the only Gryffindors. God knows why.
I think the neglect from my mother and most family is what made me and Hermione such good friends. We both knew how the other felt.
“Have you seen Ron or Harry around yet?” I asked, settling down in the train cabin in the train with my cat, Alfie, in my lap.
“No, not yet. They should be coming up soon though.” Hermione replied and surely enough the door to the cabin opened and in came a mess of ginger hair, already complaining about God knows what;
closely followed by Harry who tried to say hello before he was cut off.
“Guys you’ll never guess what. Mum made me wear Fred and George’s old jumpers again. As if I’ll ever fit into these, they’re huge! And another thing, she said I’m not allowed to get a new pet so I’m stuck with this old bird.” he finishes his rant as he points to the old caged owl in his hands.
“Hello to you too Ron.” I say after a pause.
“Oh yeah, hi guys!” he says smiling.
Hermione rolls her eyes at him with a smile and pats on the space next to her, motioning him to sit down and Harry sits next to me after hugging me and Hermione.
“So what’s all this about Draco and a weird-looking cabinet? And who are all these people you’re talking about?” Ron asks Harry settling down and rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
“Don’t you see? It was a ceremony, an initiation.” Harry says, looking over at me.
“Stop that rubbish Harry. I know where you’re going.” Hermione says, trying to ignore whatever Harry and Ron were talking about and looking out the window.
“No guys listen to me, it’s happened. He’s one of them.” Harry says the last part quietly.
“One of what?” Ron asks, confused as I take a sigh and say,
“Harry’s under the impression that Draco Malfoy is a death eater.”
“You're barking.” Ron says as he sits up, ‘What would You-Know-Who want with Malfoy, he hasn’t got any hair to want Malfoy’s bleach bottle.”
“Well then what’s he doing in Borgin and Burkes? Browsing for furniture?” Harry quips.
“It’s a creepy shop. He’s a creepy bloke. Put two and two together and there you go.” Ron responds.
“Look, his dad’s a Death Eater, his aunt’s a Death Eater, most of his family is, whos to say he isn’t following in their footsteps.” Harry says as I look away in shame.
Harry realises his poor choice in words and says, “I need some air.” and walks out the cabin.
“He’s going mad I’m telling you.” Ron says to Hermione and I.
Hermione and I don’t say anything in response but busy ourselves with our reading books while Ron raids the sweet trolley.
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It only took us around half an hour to get settled in our dorms again, this being our seventh year we had a lot more practice and we were all now making our way to the great dining hall.
“Welcome all students…” McGongall’s voice boomed as we took our seats, Hermione and Dean Thomas on either side of me with Ron and Ginny in front. Our table was on the other side of the hall to the Slytherin table but I could still see my cousin's crispy fried blonde hair as he took his seat next to one of his friends.
What was his name again?
Thomas?
Timothy?
“Why are you staring at Theodore Nott? I thought you hated him.” Ron interrupts my thoughts as he shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth.
Theodore. Right.
“And now with the sorting ceremony finished for another year, let us feast!” McGonagall’s voice, thankfully for once, gave me a chance to change the subject before things got weird.
“What? No I’m not, pass the mashed potatoes.” I say shrugging it off as I draw my attention to Hermione.
“Where’s Harry, he’s already missed the welcoming.” Hermione says, looking around in anticipation, clearly worried.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be here in a moment.” Ron responds shoving a spoon of jelley in his mouth.
Jelly with chicken? Ew.
Hermione stares at him for a moment before hitting him with her book repeatedly, making me laugh, “Will you stop eating? Your best friend is missing.”
“Oi! Turn around you lunatic.”
We turn to where Ron is looking and see Harry walking towards us with a white cloth at his nose, stained in blood.
“Why do you always have to be covered in blood?” I say, taking the cloth from his hands as he sits next to me. I try to clean up his face the best I can.
“Where have you been? And whats happened to your face?” Hermione hisses at him.
“Later, what’ve I missed?”
“Sorting hat urged us to be brave and strong on these troubled times.” Ron replies.
“Easy for it to say, its just a bloody hat innit?’ I say.
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“Y/N! GET UP!”
I open my eyes and see Hermione pacing around our room trying to get ready.
“What?” I say groggily, putting my head back on my pillow.
“I said get up, you’re going to be late and we have potions first thing.” she said as she pulled the pillow from under my head and tore the duvet off my body, forcing me to get ready.
“Eugh no I can’t deal with Snape this early.” I say as I make my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
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“Attention to detail in the preparation is the prerequisite of all planning. Ah! Hello ladies. Please, please take a seat.” The professor says to us.
Wow. This is a change.
Hermione rushed to take the nearest seat available next to Lavender Brown which left me next to,
“Well hello to you too.” Theodore Nott says smirking up at me from his chair as I drop all my books down.
I took a seat before my knees had the chance to give out.
Woah, what?
“Hey.” I say curtly, drawing my attention to the assignment, trying to ignore Theodore’s piercing gaze and strong cologne.
“Late on the first day I see, not a good impression. If Snape were here, he’d have your heads.” Theodore says as he scribbles down the assignment on the board into his scrolls.
I roll my eyes and ask, ”Who’s this anyway?” as I copy the ingredients for the potion in my scrolls.
“Professor Slughorn. He’s taking our class for this year.” Theodore says as he waits for me to finish writing so we can get the ingredients for our potion from the back of the room.
“The whole year?” I say standing up and making my way to the back with Theo, “What’s happened to Snape?”
“No idea love.” Theo says, making butterflies erupt in my tummy but I shove them down before they can travel up to my throat and make me say something flirty back.
Theodore and I never had a reason to dislike each other. Well, not officially. We never had a big fight or any interactions of any sort honestly. I didn’t even take any notice of him until he had beaten me to a question in first year in dark arts and gotten 10 house points because of it. Since then we’ve had something going on between us. The need to one-up one another, to be smarter in lessons and faster in quidditch.
I’m not going to deny that he was attractive, because God he was beautiful.
Beautiful and conceited.
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part one, done!
lmk what your fav parts were!!
and maybe repost if you feel extra generous :))
taglist: @timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere
#theodore nott x y/n slow burn#theodore nott x reader angst#theodore nott x reader fluff#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#harry potter#hermione granger#ron weasley#fanfic#fic#fics#@
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« Chuuya-sama and Dazai-san stood side by side. Surprisingly enough, there was something similar to perfection about the two. »
« As if they are one soul in two different bodies. »
soukoku webweaves: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
rule of wolves - Leigh Bardugo// harrow the ninth - Tamsyn Muir// the sorrow festival - Erin Slaughter// the prisoner - Octavio Paz// the final empire - Brandon Sanderson// wuthering heights - Emily Brontë// 21 - Gracie Abrams// slow like honey - Fiona Apple// Sue Zhao// art by @/57and13 on twitter// the dead man - Georges Bataille// Art by @creantzy// Frankfurt song - Marina Tsevetaeva// Lazarus, L. Munir// call me what you like - lovejoy// Crush - Richard Siken// art by @/ossukii// confessions - Elle Emerson// I wish you would - Taylor Swift// motion sickness - Phoebe Bridgers// art by @/ossukii on instagram// bittersweet - Rumi// Stigmata; love of the wolf - Marina Tsevetaeva// art by @/Zrainmtast on twitter// west wind - Mary Oliver// step on me - the cardigans// good looking - Suki Waterhouse// Letters from Medea - Salma Deera// valentine - Laufey// art by @/1110yu_ku_si on twitter// Amirae Garcia// the grudge - Olivia Rodrigo// The epic of Gilgamesh - Danny P. Jackson// art by @/Yuyii_Ju on twitter// he shifts from east to west - Margaret Atwood// happiness - Taylor Swift// afterglow - Taylor Swift// These hands, if not gods - Natalie Diaz// manga panel by Sango Harukawa// 100 love sonnets - Pablo Neruda// tis the damn season - Taylor Swift// it’s all futile! It’s all pointless! - lovejoy// All about love - bell hooks// art by @/FloreSuika// Germaine de Staël//
tagging moots and users who seemed to lose their minds at the other web weaves, since this is probably the last part, thank you so much for all the love :)))
@philzokman @amagami-hime @nnavia @dinosaur-mayonnaise @zamxii @the-gayest-sky-kid @vinylbiohazard @bunglegaydogs @lotus-reblogs @ricelover888 @pendragonstar @slug-behaviour @ghostsinacoat @miltseyx @homuncvlus
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#skk#soukoku#izzie posts#skk angst#dazai osamu#nakahara chuuya#bsd dazai#bsd s5#bsd season five#bsd analysis#bsd double black#bsd meta#bsd soukoku#dazai chuuya age fifteen#bsd fifteen#bsd stormbringer#stormbringer#bsd angst#bsd season 5#bsd chuuya#bungo stray dogs#teen skk#chuuya nakahara#osamu dazai#dazai chuuya 15#bungou stray dogs dazai
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Paris in John and Paul’s life
30th September 1961:
“John and I went on a trip for his twenty-first birthday. John was from a very middle-class family, which really impressed me because everyone else was from working-class families. To us John was upper class. His relatives were teachers, dentists, even someone up in Edinburgh in the BBC. It’s ironic, he was always very ‘fuck you!’ and he wrote the song ‘Working Class Hero’ – in fact, he wasn’t at all working class. Anyway, one of John’s relatives gave him £100 for his birthday. A hundred smackers in your hand! That was a real windfall. None of us could believe it. To this day if you gave me £100 I would be impressed. And I was his mate, enough said? ‘Let’s go on holiday.’ – ‘You mean me too? With the hundred quid? Great! I’m part of this windfall.’”
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“We planned to hitchhike to Spain. I had done a spot of hitchhiking with George and we knew you had to have a gimmick; we had been turned down so often and we’d seen that guys that had a gimmick (like a Union Jack round them) had always got the lifts. So I said to John, ‘Let’s get a couple of bowler hats.’ It was showbiz creeping in. We still had our leather jackets and drainpipes – we were too proud of them not to wear them, in case we met a girl; and if we did meet a girl, off would come the bowlers. But for lifts we would put the bowlers on. Two guys in bowler hats – a lorry would stop! Sense of Humour. This, and the train, is how we got to Paris.
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“And Paul and I also did the same thing, once. We just cancelled. We’d made it, in Liverpool. We were making good money, for those days. I can’t remember what it was – maybe a couple of hundred dollars a week – but enough that you’d have a little extra. You’d have it in your back pocket. And Paul and I just— A relative of mine gave me a hundred pounds, for my birthday, which I’d never seen that much money in me life. Paul and I just canceled all the engagements, and left for Paris… And George was furious, because he needed the money – to work, you know. But that was another time when the group was in debate as whether it would exist or not.”
- John Lennon, 1976, an interview with Elliot Mintz
“Last night I heard that John and Paul have gone to Paris to play together – in other words, the band has broken up! It sounds mad to me, I don’t believe it…”
- Stuart Sutcliffe, Anthology
“We’d never been there before. We were a bit tired so we checked into a little hotel for the night, intending to go off hitchhiking the next morning. Of course, it was too nice a bed after having hitched so we said, ‘We’ll stay a little longer,’ then we thought, ‘God, Spain is a long way, and we’d have to work to get down there.’ We ended up staying the week in Paris – John was funding it all with his hundred quid.
We would walk miles from our hotel; you do in Paris. We’d go to a place near the Avenue des Anglais and we’d sit in the bars, looking good. I still have some classic photos from there. Linda loves one where I am sitting in a gendarme’s mac as a cape and John has got his glasses on askew and his trousers down revealing a bit of Y-front. The photographs are so beautiful, we’re really hamming it up. We’re looking at the camera like, ‘Hey, we are artsy guys, in a café: this is us in Paris,’ and we felt like that.
We went up to Montmartre because of all the artists, and the Folies Bergères, and we saw guys walking around in short leather jackets and very wide pantaloons. Talk about fashion! This was going to kill them when we got back. This was totally happening. They were tight to the knee and then they flared out; they must have been about fifty inches around the bottom and our drainpipe trousers were something like fifteen or sixteen inches. We saw these trousers and said, ‘Excusez-moi, Monsieur, où did you get them?’ It was a cheap little rack down the street so we bought a pair each, went back to the hotel, put them on, went out on the street – and we couldn’t handle it: ‘Do your feet feel like they are flapping? Feel more comfortable in me drainies, don’t you?’ So it was back to the hotel at a run, needle and cotton out and we took them in to a nice sixteen with which we were quite happy. And then we met Jürgen Vollmer on the street. He was still taking pictures."
- Paul McCartney, Anthology
“Jürgen had a flattened-down hairstyle with a fringe in the front, which we rather took to. We went over to his place and there and then he cut – hacked would be a better word – our hair into the same style.”
- John Lennon, 1963
Interviewer: I heard you took a trip to Spain before once, didn’t you? On Holiday?
Paul: I didn’t go to Spain, no. I tried once to make Spain but… and John and I were gonna hitchhike. We hitchhiked down from Liverpool… We didn’t hitchhike. No, we got the train down from Liverpool ‘cause we thought we won’t hitchhike down the first bit. And we got the boat over to Paris. Then we got the train into Paris ‘cause we thought: “Well, it’ll be too hard to get a hitch here”. And we just stayed in Paris all week. And eventually… I mean, all the time trying to get out of Paris and make Spain! We never made it, we just flew home at the end. What a lazy hitchhiking Holiday!
“The thing was all the kissing and holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic just to be there and see them even though I was 21 and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing. And they weren’t not mauling at each other, they were just kissing.”
- John Lennon
"John’s 21st birthday was a month away, and he knew he was getting money — 100 pounds cash, more than he or Paul had ever seen in their lives. (…) Bob Wooler was party to their planning, and fought with them:
They were bored, and decided they would go away for a month. I thought this was disastrous because they would be away from the scene too long and lose their fans, Fans were very capricious: they moved from one group to another. And anyway, what about the other two members, George Harrison and Pete Best?. What about them, what do they do? We argued a lot about this — we argued in the back room of the grapes pub to a large extent —- and they said ‘Well, we’ll go away for a fortnight only’
(…) Equally, the promoters who paid the Beatles over-the-odds to present them every week had to “lump it” (….). To a man, and woman, they were incensed by it - but John and Paul hadn’t a care. They didn’t mean to be rude about it but basically it was tough shit.
it was tough too on Dot and Cyn, Dot simply had to accept the situation, but Cyn had a greater case of grievance. John was heading off without her when he could so easily gave waited for the art school holidays. (…).
That John was taking Paul, no one else, accentuates the renewed closeness since Stu quit The Beatles. They were the Beatles force, an unstoppable and authentically powerful pair. “Lennon had the attitude”, Wooler said, “and taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were superior human beings”
"You’d always see them together, in the pub or walking along the street", says Johnny Gustafson of the Big Tree. "They were a duo, and seemed each other’s equal". Bernie Boyle, the young lad hanging around with them at every opportunity, says, "They were like brothers, with John as the elder and Paul’s mentor. They were so tight it was like there was a telepathy between them: on stage, they’d look at each other and know instinctively what the other was thinking"
They were brothers. They were the Nerk Twins, and now they were taking a break from The Beatles and gofin off to Spain.
Gustafson happened to bump into them the day they left, Saturday, September 30. “They both had bowler hats on, with the usual leather jackets and jeans. They said they were off to Paris, so I walked down to Lime Street station and watched them go. They were an incredible pair: always great fun, irreverent and so close.
- Mark Lewinsohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (2013)
As was written in this post: That last picture is one Paul took of John sleeping in Paris. From what I remember of a performance he did of ‘Here Today’, and earlier comments, this picture hangs framed on a wall in Paul’s house.
Unconfirmed quote (may or may not be true):
"He must have been fond of me to spend that money. He let me have all the banana milkshakes I wanted.”
- Paul McCartney
In January 1964, only a few scant weeks before the Beatles took America by storm, the band mates settled in for an extended stay in Paris. For the group, the Parisian visit proved to be a magical experience, with the Beatles playing 18 shows at the Olympia Theatre between Jan. 16 and Feb. 4 (source).
The photo Paul took of John (in the "Eyes Of The Storm" book):
1969:
Hoping to get married in France, John Lennon and Yoko Ono flew to Paris on this day [16th March].
The couple had decided to marry on 14 March 1969, two days after the wedding of Paul McCartney to Linda Eastman; whether it was in response to this event on some level is open to conjecture.
On McCartney’s wedding day Lennon and Ono were travelling to Poole in Dorset, where he introduced her to his Aunt Mimi. During the journey he asked his chauffeur Les Anthony to go to Southampton to enquire about the possibility of the wedding being held at sea, on the cross-channel ferry to France.
(source)
“On March 12, Paul married Linda Eastman at Marylebone Register Office in London, amid scenes of hysterical grief from his female fans. None of the other Beatles was present. The news reached John as he and Yoko were driving down to visit Aunt Mimi in Poole. Yoko’s divorce decree had become final a few weeks earlier, and, in a resurgence of Beatle copycat, John told her they, too, must get married as soon as possible”
- Philip Norman, John Lennon: The Life (2008)
"We chose Gibraltar because it is quiet, British and friendly. We tried everywhere else first. I set out to get married on the car ferry and we would have arrived in France married, but they wouldn’t do it. We were no more successful with cruise ships. We tried embassies, but three weeks’ residence in Germany or two weeks’ in France were required."
- John Lennon
1974:
“After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”
“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.””
— May Pang, Loving John (1983)
1978:
Wings album "London Town" is released. It includes the song "Cafe on the Left Bank", the lyrics of which clearly refer to John and Paul's trip to Paris.
Late 1970s (maybe 1978?):
John is singing to Paul about Paris in a home recording.
Longer version
1994 - Paul inducting John to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame:
“And then on your 21st birthday you got £100 off one of your rich relatives up in Edinburgh, so we decided we’d go to Spain. So we hitch-hiked out of Liverpool. And we got as far as Paris, and decided to stop there for a week. And eventually got our haircut, by a fellow named Jürgen, and that ended up being the ‘Beatle haircut’.”
I also remember watching an interview with Paul about his album "Memory Almost Full" (2007). Thank you for adding, @ringompreg!
youtube
(it's like 7 minutes in)
Interviewer: There is a very beautiful song called "The End Of The End", the way you talk about your whole ending, and the lyric goes: "It's a start of a journey to a much better place." You mean, better than England?
Paul: It's basically a start of a journey to France. Or Spain through France. Yeah, that's what it is. It's a much better place, Paris.
Also worth mentoning:
"All You Need Is Love" begins with La Marseillaise.
"Picasso's Last Words (Drink To Me)" contains French-language speech by BBC broadcaster Pierre Le Sève.
#mclennon#mclennon is real#mclennon anthology#paris#frankly i miss paris#may pang#yoko ono#linda eastman#the beatles#gay#bisexual#france#insane#compilation#master post#Youtube
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jealousy, jealousy - chapter 4: those eyes
f1 fanfic: lestappen (max x charles)
previous chapter | next chapter
summary: the grid arrives in melbourne, and max and charles are going through it. they each decide, independently, that they want to get in on some exercise-induced endorphins. and immediately run into each other at the gym.
chapter 4: those eyes
This was the least relaxing off-week Max had ever experienced. Most of the grid had arrived in Melbourne a week in advance to adjust to the time zone and weather, and were making the most of the last vestiges of Australian summer. But Max could not for the life of him shake what had happened last week in Saudi.
“Let me go,” Charles’ angry voice rang in his head. And then his own, “I don’t know why I grabbed you like that."
He didn’t, really. All he knew was that as the paramedics lifted Carlos into the ambulance, he was seized with this feeling, that Charles would run after him.
And why would you care? He didn’t. Shouldn’t. God, Carlos was Charles’ teammate. Wouldn’t Max feel concerned if Checo suddenly passed out during grid breakfast?
Not to the point that I’d forfeit the race. That was it. Max wasn’t afraid of losing Charles, watching him slip through his fingers. He was disturbed by the fact that Charles would give up the race to wait uselessly in a hospital. But that realization didn’t make him feel any better.
Normally, Max would default to his sim racing rig. But even that didn’t seem like it would be enough to quell his anxiety.
His eyes fell onto his ill-used black duffel.
Max had never been all that passionate about working out. He wasn’t particularly athletic like some of the other guys on the grid—visions of Charles viciously returning Nando’s serve on the padel court and Carlos jogging easily with Danny down the track while Max could barely breathe came to mind—and personally believed an hour on iRacing would probably get him closer to a WDC than an hour pumping iron.
So he figured if he felt the urge to exercise voluntarily, he should probably capitalize on it. Who knew, maybe all those workout junkies would be onto something when they harped about endorphins or whatever.
Even though it was past 9, Charles was itching to get in a quick lift, maybe a spin as well. He quickly changed into a pair of lightweight shorts. He debated wearing a shirt but doubted anyone would be in the gym at this hour anyway.
George Russell style, he thought, laughing to himself.
The gym as vacant, just as he’d hoped. He started on the bike, wedging his buds into his ears and queueing up some Hans Zimmer. It felt so good to just dissociate, vaguely aware only of the sweat starting to trickle down his back. The dramatic climax of a song hit and Charles stood up out of the saddle to ride it out—
—and almost fell off his bike when he saw that he was not in fact alone at all.
Max ambled through the doors of the gym, and judging by the looks of the bag slung over his shoulder, he’d only just gotten there.
Charles pulled an earbud out and continued cycling, sneaking peeks at Max but having trouble thinking of what to say to him. If anything. Maybe Max was in another touchy mood and would ignore Charles or see him and leave. The thought made Charles feel…strangely empty. Not as relieved as he would have thought.
He needn’t have worried. Max, spying Charles on the bike, made a beeline towards him first.
“Charles,” he nodded.
“Hey, Max.” Charles wiped his brow with the towel he’d slung over the handlebars. “Here for a lift?”
“Ah, yeah, I was thinking so.”
“Want to spot each other?” Charles dared.
“Sure.”
Charles climbed off the bike and waved Max over to the bench. “I was going for a push day, you good with that?”
Max nodded and loaded the barbell. Charles placed his hands under the bar as Max pressed. His hands brushed Max’s forearms by accident, and Max’s eyes flashed up at him. Charles’ stomach lurched. Calm down right now, he told himself sternly.
Did Charles suddenly think he was George Russell or something? Max rolled his eyes when he saw him pedaling shirtless, bobbing his head to whatever sadboy soundtrack was blasting through his earbuds. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck and collected in the crevice formed by his traps and collarbone. To be fair, his pecs put Max’s to shame…and so did the rest of his chiseled torso. He should’ve been better about going to the gym.
And he just might. He didn’t remember lifting ever being so enjoyable. When his triceps trembled on the last rep, Charles’ tanned forearms rescued him from the bar. And after a set that left him totally gassed, he relished seeing Charles smile brightly, and the feeling of his warm hand clapping him on the back.
His arms felt like jelly, but he wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.
“Mate,” he groaned. “I’m gonna hit the sauna.” He wondered if Charles would join him. Was it weird that he was hoping he would?
“I’m so finished,” Charles agreed. He slung his towel over his shoulder. “Can I come with?”
Max held open the door for him in response.
The gym sauna was actually quite nice. Dark panels of cedar lined the walls and floor, and nozzles mounted to the ceiling intermittently subjected them to blasts of eucalyptus-scented steam.
Charles stretched luxuriously out on a bench, extending his muscular legs and leaning back onto his hands behind his head. “Ahhh,” he sighed. “I feel like I never see you here.”
Max swallowed. “Dunno, I guess the gym’s not really my scene.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen the light yet, mate. I wasn’t really into it either, but Carlos”—Max stiffened at the name—“is a total gym rat. He converted me.”
“What?” Max asked. “Aren’t you a sports guy?”
Charles giggled. Like, actually giggled. “No way mate, that’s a new side of me. When I wasn’t karting as a kid, the other sports I played were piano and chess.”
This was news to Max. He always felt like a nerd compared to a lot of the other guys. You would never know that about Charles, with his tanned abs and sculpted shoulders and his sun-bleached curls. Max had felt self-conscious the second he’d taken off his shirt as they’d entered the sauna. He was pretty certain that he was so pale it was blinding. Not that he could tan even if he wanted—as soon as his epidermis so much as glimpsed the sun, it decided to go bright red. Bonus points for blisters.
Max stole a glance at Charles. His eyes were closed. There was a freckle right below his right eye that Max had never noticed before. His gaze roamed over Charles’ thick eyebrows, finely shaped nose, neat stubble, down to his lips, the upper one starting in two perfect peaks and curving up into an impish smile. He thought about how the guys regularly gave him shit for being a pretty boy, the legions of girls who fangirled over Charles’ looks.
Girls, Max had seen plenty of pretty girls before. But the Monégasque dozing in the sauna next to him…pretty simply couldn’t do it justice.
Charles’ eyes fluttered open, and Max suddenly remembered that, as a child, he’d bike along the Meuse river in Maaseik. Ninety-nine days out of a hundred, the river was so dark gray it was almost black, but every so often the sun would make its presence known on a spring day, and the river would turn a brilliant azure, fading to green at the banks where the water reflected the trees. He might as well have been right back in Maaseik, gazing at that river. He was happy then. He felt like he couldn’t ask for anything else right now.
Charles must have seen something in Max’s face, because the tops of his ears turned pink. Max felt his own cheeks flush in response. Without so much as a warning, Charles sat up and leaned forward until his face was barely three inches from Max’s. Max felt his stomach somersault, the way it always did before rounding a steep turn. His eyes searched Charles’ desperately, looking for any sign of what he was thinking, what he was going to do.
Then, light as a feather, Charles gently touched a spot on Max’s chin. It tingled; he barely registered that it stung ever so slightly.
“You cut yourself,” Charles said quietly.
Max’s heart hammered so hard, he was convinced Charles could feel the blood rushing through his jaw. Or just see his entire body quaking in time to the beat.
“I…yeah, I must’ve. Shaving,” Max managed, hoarsely.
Charles withdrew his hand. Max fought the overwhelming urge to grab it before it was gone forever. He felt utterly lost in his eyes.
“When I was a kid,” he heard himself say, “Jos took me cycling by this river. In Belgium. I was too young to go karting.”
Charles said nothing, but held his gaze.
“Most days, the river was grey,” Max rambled on, feeling faint. “But every so often, it would be sunny outside, and the water…the water was so blue. And green and brown and all the colors. Like—like your eyes.”
Max saw that Cupid’s bow lift in a tiny, devastating smile. But then it spoke.
“You live in Monaco now. Next time we’re back home, I want to take you to La Mala on my boat. I don’t know why we haven’t been yet.”
Max’s heart threatened to take a flying leap right out of his chest.
Charles continued slowly, “When we get to the horizon, you look in the mirror. Maybe my eyes look like your river, in Belgium. But yours…” His voice dropped a full octave lower. “Yours are where the sky meets the sea.”
He pulled away abruptly, stood up, and left only a trail of wet footprints as he exited the sauna. Max stared dumbly at what was left of Charles, not at all sure if what just happened was real.
It was all Charles could do to not break out into a sprint as soon as he closed the sauna door behind him. His body felt like it had been braised; every inch of his skin felt like it could erupt into flames at any moment. Maybe the sauna had quite literally scrambled his brains. He could not believe he had just told Max Verstappen that his eyes reminded him of the fucking ocean. And he found it even harder to believe that his own had inspired such a comparison on Max’s end.
George’s voice echoed in his head. “He was giving me these eyes…”
No. No no no. This could not be happening. He could absolutely not be thinking about leaving his hand on Max’s jaw, leaning in, letting their lips brush. Except he knew, sitting in that sauna, that was all he wanted to do.
Charles turned the corner to the lockers and promptly slammed into Max, who had replaced his shirt and had his shoes dangling by the laces in one hand.
“Oh my god,” he gasped. “I am so sorry.”
Max, at least, looked equally perturbed. “No, that was my bad, I didn’t see you—”
Charles was sure his face was positively maroon. Maybe even his neck. “Uh, well, nice working out with you,” he fumbled lamely.
“Yeah. Yeah, uh, thanks for spotting me. I think I might come to the gym more.”
“You should,” Charles said emphatically.
Max smiled at him, genuinely smiled, and Charles felt like someone had pumped his head full of helium. “Well, see you around.”
“Yeah, see you.” Charles pulled on his own shirt and slipped into his slides. He turned to leave.
“Wait, Charles.” Max called.
Charles stopped short.
“I don’t know if you really meant it, about boating in Monaco,” Max said from behind, his voice betraying the slightest crack. “But if you did, I think it would be nice to see La Mala together.”
notes: i'm not gonna lie guys i screamed a little writing that last line i am unwell
the boys are back is officially chapter 3 and has been labelled as such. this is a continuation of that chapter.
tensions will be boiling next chapter. you have been warned. >:)
also, i have been made aware of something called a taglist (tumblr newbie, sorry), so please feel free to reply on any of the chapters if you want to be included on it!! i never thought anyone would read any of this tbh so...v grateful for those of you who've enjoyed the ride so far :')
taglist @fangirl-dot-com
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 fluff#f1 fandom#f1blr#scuderia ferrari#lestappen#max verstappen#charles leclerc#george russell#lando norris#alex albon#red bull racing#red bull f1#red bull formula 1#twitch quartet#iracing#max x charles#charles and max#mvwc#mv1#mv33#cl16#ferrari#oracle red bull racing#formula 1#formula one
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George drunk calling Alex on NYE after singing ABBA with the lads gives him a semi…compelling
Alex can hear the beat of the music when he answers the phone, but it’s muffled, like George has found somewhere quiet to tuck himself away. It’s muted enough that Alex can only just hear it over the sound of — the panting sound of George’s breath, the hitch in his throat when he realises that Alex has picked up.
“You okay, George?” he asks carefully. “It’s not even midnight, you can't be knackered yet.”
“No, Alex,” George says immediately, words spilling down the phone. “No, it’s. I’m.”
He’s had a bit to drink, Alex can tell. He’s stumbling over his words, but without any hesitation, like his brain just can’t keep up with whatever it is he wants. Alex isn’t surprised — he’s probably been pissed since his New Year’s brunch with Cara, the pleasant kind of buzz that can stretch out for long, languid hours. Alex bites his cheek to stop from smiling at the thought, even though he’s alone in his hotel room in Grove. He shouldn’t feel so embarrassed about it. It isn’t like Rick fucking Astley, on mute on the oversized television, is suddenly going to stop talking rubbish about the fireworks display, look out from the screen and start taking the mick out of him instead.
“You a bit bladdered?” he asks. “You didn’t go and leave the lads alone on the dance floor, did you? Tsk tsk, Georgie.”
George breathes in sharply again, like Alex has caught him in something. “No,” George says immediately, guilty. “I mean, yes. I’m in the loos. It’s — Alex.”
“Spit it out,” Alex says, but he knows that tone of voice. He thinks about George calling him from some dark stall, hair damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead, his shirt open around his clavicle. He would’ve lost his jacket ages ago, Alex knows. He can never keep a hold of it.
George doesn’t say anything — he just groans, the noise coming from low in his throat, like he. Like he’s. Christ.
“Oh,” Alex says. It’s not like they’ve never got off in club loos before, but it’s always been when they were together — out after a race to either celebrate a good result or to commiserate after a bad one. The fact that George is surrounded by his friends and a mass of interesting strangers and is calling Alex for this anyway sends a shimmer of satisfaction curling low in his stomach.
“Is it like that, then?” he asks. He wants to laugh. He should laugh, do anything to brush this off until George gets back to his flat, but he’s never been very good at being the sensible one. Instead, he licks his lips, and says quietly, “You need it that bad? Can’t even wait until you get home?”
“Yes,” George says, breath coming heavier. “Yeah, Alex.”
Alex doesn’t think he’s touching himself yet. There isn’t any of his tells — he’s still too wound up with need, the twitchy, overwhelmed way he always gets when he’s wanting so much and getting nothing at all. Besides, if that’s what he was going to do, he wouldn’t have called Alex. He could’ve taken care of it himself — quick and unsatisfying. But Alex knows how it is with George — he wants to work for it.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Alex says. “It wasn’t some other guy, was it? I hope you’re still saving that New Year's kiss for me. I was counting on it, Georgie. It’s the only thing getting me through these meetings with James.”
“No,” George says, choked. “God, no. It’s. It was just — there was a song. Please, Alex. Can you — tell me.”
“What song?” Alex presses.
“ABBA,” George says weakly.
“That’s not a song,” Alex says, trying to sound stern, but there’s already a grin creeping across his face.
“It was — please, Alex.”
“Tell me,” he says again, and he can tell from the hitch in George’s voice that he isn’t going to be able to hold out.
“Gimme, Gimme,” George admits at last, and Alex can’t keep in a laugh.
“God, you’re predictable, aren’t you?” Alex says when he’s straightened himself out. He wants to keep teasing George, but the image of it is starting to crystallise in his mind, and once it has, there’s nothing funny about it at all. “Are you going to keep me on the phone until midnight, then? Is that what you want? Expect I think you’re already all wound up now, aren’t you? I think you’re hard, and your dick is ruining the line of your nice posh-boy slacks.”
George lets out a high whine, loud and shocked, and Alex has to screw his eyes shut. When he opens them, he looks right up at the ceiling, like the smooth white of it might help settle him.
“You are, I can tell,” Alex says, and once he has, once he’s said it out loud, he can’t stop himself from cupping his dick through his joggers. It had started chubbing up as soon as he saw George’s picture on the caller ID, if he’s being honest, and hearing George’s panting breath down the phone hadn’t done anything to dispel the interest. “Did you get hard out on the dance floor, singing along with your friends, thinking about me? Do you think they noticed? Do you think any of them guessed what you were going off to do when you slipped away? What do you tell them?”
George just stutters for a minute, and then admits, “I didn’t say anything. I didn’t think — if they saw me. I thought they’d know.”
Alex has to work to keep his breath steady. It’s too much, the idea of George getting so desperate for it that he had to slip away, his polished exterior all chipped away to reveal the soft, needy thing underneath. It’s not fair that Alex isn’t there, can’t catch a thumb on his lower lip, can’t push his fingers into George’s hot, wet mouth. Can’t get his own hand around George’s dripping dick.
“Well go on then,” Alex says, throat tight. “You want to, don’t you? Isn’t that why you called? So I could tell you it was alright?”
“Yes,” George says, and Alex can hear the naked relief in his voice already. There’s a silent second where Alex thinks he must be fumbling for his fly, trying to get the button undone with his phone tucked up against his ear, and then there’s a sharp intake of breath, and Alex knows.
“Not too fast,” Alex says. “Get your hand wet. Don’t finish off the year with a shitty wank, George, it’s bad luck.”
He’s talking rubbish like usual, obviously, but George laughs anyway and then says, sounding wrecked already, “I am, I did.”
“I wish I could see you,” Alex says. “I bet you look incredible, dick out and desperate for it, huh? Do you think anyone else can hear? Or just me?”
George lets out a wild noise, too loud, a shocked hitch in his breath, and Alex has to get a hand under his waistband.
“I know, Georgie,” he says, and he tries to keep his voice steady even as he’s stroking himself, thumbing over the head of his dick. “I know, fuck. I know you need it. Come on, I want you to. I want to hear what you sound like. Come on.”
It doesn’t take long after that. Alex can tell by the noise George makes, open and unchecked, and the idea of it is obliterating — George’s sweat-sticky button down rucked up, his trousers pushed down around his hips, his hand dripping with his come, messy. George is breathing heavily into the speaker, so close that the sound has gotten warped at the edges, and Alex can only listen to it for a second before he’s coming too, spilling hot and messy and probably staining his joggers.
“Blime—,” George starts to say, but Alex cuts him off before he can get the word out. He can just imagine George’s wide, wet eyes looking all guileless and overwhelmed.
“Don’t blimey me, you sex demon,” Alex says. “This one was entirely your fault. I’m not accepting any blame.”
It makes George laugh, slow and sleepy and satisfied, like he does when he’s tucked up against Alex in bed. “Fair,” he says, and then, after a pause, he adds, “Happy New Year, Alex.”
#this prompt turned my brain upside down thank you gabby#as did all the pictures of george out with the lads on new years eve#what is so compelling about him in his little button downs in the club singing ABBA#the ever lethal combo of cringe and hot#have thought about little else for the past week#galex#f1 rpf#tumblr fic#gr63#aa23
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Taylor Swift l The Collection
this is the masterlist for a series of one shots, scenarios that have come up while listening to different Taylor Swifts albums, with different drivers from the grid <3
Back to December l Charles Leclerc
and I think about summer, all the beautiful times, I watched you laughing from the passenger side.
summary: she cursed herself every day for being scared of falling for him, because he wasn't afraid of loving her.
You Belong With Me l George Russell
if you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me.
summary: she had the worst luck because her best friend was a serial dater, but she knows him better than any of his girlfriends, and she needs him to know.
august l Lando Norris
wanting was enough, for me it was enough.
summary: every single one of her friends warned her that he was fresh out of a relationship. his friends whispered that he had been so in love just a couple of weeks ago and now he was holding hands with someone else. but she didn't care.
Enchanted l Lance Stroll
this night is sparkling, don't you let it go. I'm wonderstruck blushing all the way home
summary: forced small talk, tiny pieces of fancy finger food, and long flutes of champagne, but after they saw each other... small talk became a little bigger, laughter falling a bit more freely.
Ours l Max Verstappen
so don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.
summary: he was always in the eye of the hurricane; some days because of his talents, others because of his character, but it didn't matter when he got home and walked holding her hand.
Girl At Home l Daniel Ricciardo
don't look at me, you got a girl at home and everybody knows that.
summary: she knew he had someone back in Australia waiting for him. but she was so far away, and he needed to be comforted, now.
Begin Again l Pierre Gasly
he didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do.
summary: she was used to the bare minimum, maybe even a little less than that. and then he came in, waiting for her to order first during their first date.
Long Live l Esteban Ocon
of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines, wishing for right now.
summary: Esteban Ocon (aka the biggest Spiderman fan, according to himself) tried to bribe his girlfriend, gave her the silent treatment, he called her out during race weekends, but Marvel was just too good keeping their secrets. (actress!reader)
False God l Carlos Sainz Jr.
but we might just get away with it.
summary: it was just the third race of the calendar when he walked inside her hotel room, telling her that they could try it... and HR would never know.
Speak Now l Max Verstappen
fond gestures are exchanged, and the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march.
summary: His mind was spinning. Get up, sit down! Speak up, shut up! You already lost her, you broke up with her! Nobody would've guessed everything that was going on inside Max's head as he watched her put on her white dress.
Sparks Fly l Charles Leclerc
give me something that will haunt me when you're not around
summary: she liked telling people that she was done with love, but shit... his green eyes made her want to jump into his arms and love him to the best of her ability.
Happiness l Charles Leclerc
there'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you.
summary: they were going to be fine, relationships come to an end eventually... but he was focused on his job, and she was watching him through the screen.
illicit affairs l Carlos Sainz Jr.
and you know damn well, for you I'd ruin myself.
summary: it wasn't fair that he made her fall in love with him, not when he took her heart for granted and his heart started beating for some other girl.
#charles leclerc x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader#max verstappen x reader#esteban ocon x reader#carlos sainz x reader#lance stroll x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc imagine#daniel ricciardo imagine#max verstappen imagine#esteban ocon imagine#carlos sainz imagine#lance stroll imagine#george russell x reader#george russell imagine#lando norris imagine#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly imagine
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Song Lyrics That Remind Me of Arthur Morgan
Nobody asked for this, but I listen to A LOT of music, and this boah is constantly on my mind 24/7. So I thought I'd share some lyrics that remind me of him and his relationships <3
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Hard Believer - First Aid Kit
"So you ask for my opinion. Well, what is there to say?
To be honest and just foolish, won't make you wanna stay.
You've got to go on and get moving. And I can't do that for you.
Got so many plans and so much you wanna do.
Love is tough, time is rough on me."
To a Poet - First Aid Kit (Mary & Arthur)
"You said, 'Don't give me nothing you don't wanna lose.'
I said, 'Darlin' I'll give you everything I got,
if you want them to choose.'
Though unwillingly I left and it was so, so hard to do.
Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break.
And every morning that I wake, God, it is the same."
Afraid of Heights - Boygenius (Dutch & Arthur)
"I know I fucked up when I told you I'm afraid of heights.
It made you wanna test my courage.
You made me climb a cliff at night.
You wanted me to jump and I declined.
You called me a coward, I replied,
I don't wanna live forever, but I don't wanna die tonight."
My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit
"I don't know if I'm scared of dyin',
but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow.
Regret, remorse, hold on. Oh no I've gotta go.
There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on.
You've just gotta keep on keeping on."
Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain
"If they strike once, then you hit 'em twice as hard.
But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me,
Then this heart would break and fall twice as far.
We all know how it goes, the more it hurts, the less it shows.
But I still feel like they all know, and that's why I could never go back home."
Saviour - George Ezra (Mary & Arthur)
"Time was young and you were mine.
Take me back to that midnight moon.
Cradle me, at that midnight moon.
All of me is all for you, and what I got to give is not enough.
It's a dark night.
Being your own savior, is it saving you?"
Cowboy, Gangster, Politician - Goldie Boutilier (Mary & Arthur)
"We said goodbye, but it never ends.
'Cause you can't get away from a woman who loves you.
'Cause you can't run away from feelings that haunt you.
No, you can't separate a fire from a flame that already burns.
Every saints a sinner, we all have our past.
Forever is a fiction, nothing lasts."
Let Him Fly - Patty Griffin (Mary Gillis-Linton)
"Ain't no talking to this man, ain't no pretty other side.
Ain't no way to understand, the stupid words of pride.
It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so,
I'm gonna let him fly.
You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just where or why.
So there was really nothing to it, I said I'm gonna let him fly."
The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (Dutch & Arthur)
"And if you don't love me now,
You will never love me again.
I can still hear you saying, we would never break the chain.
Run in the shadows.
Damn your love, damn your lies."
Devil's Resting Place - Laura Marling
"I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place.
Water won't clean you, you only hold yourself to the things you do.
Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine.
Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine.
You sold your life away to be with me tonight.
Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine."
Through the Valley - Shawn James
"I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all,
and my mind and my gun they comfort me.
Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come.
Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.
And I will dwell on this earth forevermore.
Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill.
Called himself the savior of the human race.
Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain,
but I said, how can you save the world from itself?"
Youngest Daughter - Superheaven
"It's useless, I tried, but to no avail.
To tell you how much I know, how much I care.
Breathe until your lungs fail, you can sing 'til you go deaf.
I am sick, I am horrified at everything I hear.
Everyday repeats itself again, the cycle of our misery,
It drives us all insane."
The Fall - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)
"You heard blood was thick, brothers and sisters.
But ya don't know where anybody's at.
Time was a bust, you thought you'd better be tough.
Nobody gets past the trembling wire.
All eyes on you now, on you.
We're all holding our breath."
Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)
"I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind.
Oh my heart was all black but I saw something shine.
Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine.
I could share it with you, if you gave me the time.
I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home.
If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone."
My Mind - Paris Paloma (Dutch & Arthur)
"What did I do wrong?
Will you tell me what I did wrong, what did I?
Was it a first offense?
How long had you been harboring that vemon?
You could have used your words then, you wanted them to hurt and so I let them.
Never would I beseech you, to endure what you put me through."
#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#dutch van der linde#mary gillis#red dead redemption community#red dead fandom#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 fanart#john marston
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an old friend, a new start part ii {remus lupin}
plot: Fourteen years after graduating Hogwarts, you're offered a job to be the new Muggle Music Professor. Funnily enough, your old friend, Remus Lupin, is also offered a new job at Hogwarts that year.
in this chapter: you and remus rekindle your friendship.
character: remus lupin x female reader
note: 6k words
PART ONE
It was surprising how easy it was, how normal it was to be here again and be with him. Remus had always made things easy, he made people feel comfortable it's why you already knew he was a good professor. He was exactly the right kind of soft that students would respond well to.
The first thing you did was give Remus a tour of your classroom, "It's not set up yet but can you imagine the vision?" You said after giving him an in depth explanation of everything you wanted to do with it. Remus smiled at your passion. You had always had this passion for music ever since you were a teenager, always singing and playing music for the group, introducing them to your favourite bands and songs. Remus missed that; he missed your music.
"First lesson, we're delving into the different periods of music and I'm going to introduce them to the Beatles."
Remus laughed, "Remember when you first brought the Beatles into Sirius's life?" You grinned at the memory.
"What's that?" Sirius frowned, hearing the music you were playing from the turntable, "Is that music? Is this some Muggle invention?"
"It's called a record player," Remus told him, "It's (y/n)'s. Plays music."
"Is that circle thing music?"
You laughed, "Yeah, that's a record. It has music in the grooves." You stopped the music to take the disk off to show him. Sirius pawed it carefully not wanting to break it.
"Muggles are pretty magic too, you know," he said, "Play it, will you?"
You set it back up, turning the volume up for Sirius to hear it. He was silent for three songs. You and Remus made eye contact, stifling your laughter, "What's this band called?" Sirius asked eventually.
"The Beatles. Band with 4 men in it; Paul, John, George and Ringo... What do you think?"
"I think... I love it..."
And from there developed Sirius's new personality. It wasn't long before he was screaming out the lyrics to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds as he danced around the common room.
"It became his personality for a few weeks, didn't it?" You and Remus shared a laugh, "Remember McGonagall put a silence charm on him so she could get through half a lesson without him singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand."
Remus's smile was wide, reaching his eyes making them light up, aglow with delight. You could tell that rarely happened anymore. You loved to see it. He looked five years younger when he smiled, not that he was particularly old as you were both in your early thirties but... he was tired.
It was then a clock chimed on the wall of your classroom. The two of you looked to it, "Oh, shall we head to the Great Hall?" You asked him, "Dinner will be served shortly." So the two of you walked to the Great Hall together, pointing at things on your way.
"Remember when we hid in that cupboard to watch Lily and James have their first kiss."
"That's the classroom used for the first time we all had detention together."
"Oh god, they've still never gotten rid of that god awful painting-" "Hey!" The painting yelled at you which made you give a sheepish, "Sorry" as Rem laughed behind you.
You found the Great Hall, it was indeed like riding a bike, you never really forgot how to get places and the more you explored, the more you remembered. Minerva smiled widely upon seeing you both laughing as you walked into the hall. She gestured to two seats beside Snape as the children began to funnel into the hall. It was then you noticed someone.
"Hagrid?" You beamed, "It is you!"
The giant, who had been attempting to sit on the far too small seat, straightened and looked at you, "(y/n)!" Hagrid grinned, clapping you on the shoulder, "Bloody hell, been a while, hasn' it? And Remus!"
Hagrid's giant hand took Remus's and shook it gladly as Remus smiled and said, "Hello, old friend."
"Look at you both. Are you Professors now?" You both nodded, "If only they could see the pair o' you now, eh?" He sniffed and you realised his eyes were watery and glassy looking. Hagrid was always one to get a little emotional.
You smiled sadly, patting his forearm, "Harry's just like James, isn't he?"
Hagrid nodded, looking out to find Harry in the crowd, "Love 'im," Hagrid sniffed again, pulling a large handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his eyes, "love 'im as though he was my own." It would be later from Harry you'd find out that Hagrid helped to look after him, always offering a friendly face and advice, always looking out for him. Hagrid had done the same for you, Remus, James, Sirius and Peter (and then Lily). Always welcomed you into his cottage for tea and to look at his newest creature. Hagrid was always there for you and you appreciated that he was always there for Harry too.
Remus patted his arm this time and the two of you moved around him to go sit down beside Snape as Dumbledore had stepped up to address the school. He gave you both a smile and a small nod of his head in greeting. Snape's frown deepened when you and Remus sat beside him which made you stifle a laugh, "Hey, Sev."
Severus scoffed.
After the sorting, Albus introduced you and Remus as the new Professors making you both stand up and give a little wave. You could see Harry, Ron and Hermione smiling as they clapped. You were excited to get to know all about James's boy. You just knew that if James were here, god he would be so proud of his son. He would be bragging to everyone he met and Lily would watch him amused. If Lily could see him, if Lily could hold him, your heart panged and you felt tears burn at your eyes. It broke your heart knowing that Harry would never know how much they both adored him. You remembered the day you first met Harry Potter.
James had answered the door, bags under his eyes but grinning widely, "He's upstairs with Lils," he told you and Remus, "Padfoot's already there." As you walked up the stairs to see the baby, you could hear Padfoot's coos and babbles to the day old baby, "He's taken to him like a mermaid to water."
You rounded the corner, turning into the nursery, and there they were. Lily's hair was tied up, she too looked exhausted but couldn't stop smiling and Sirius, bless him, Sirius was there with the biggest smile which only got wider when he saw the three of you.
"Look, Moony," Sirius beamed, "Ghost, look!" He used your Animagus name. You took form of a white wolf who was rather good at hiding and staying quiet, hence adopting the name Ghost from your peers, "He's real!"
"(y/n)," Lily said with a proud smile, "Remus, meet Harry. Harry James Potter."
"Can I?" You asked softly, reaching your arms out. Lily nodded and she helped you bundle the warm, tiny baby boy into your arms, "Oh my god," you whispered, laughing incredulously as Harry blinked up at you with big eyes. You could've stayed there all day with him in your arms, "Oh, guys," you said, eyes flooding with tears as you looked between James and Lily, "he's perfect."
You found yourself walking over to Remus, "Look at him, Rem." Remus's face softened, instantly under the young Harry's spell and you carefully handed him over to Remus. Your smile only widened as you watched Remus cradle him. Remus smiled up at you for a few seconds, a dazed silly smile on his face, before your attentions turned back to Harry.
Remus nudged you, noticing your watery eyes, "Are you alright?" He asked softly.
You nodded quickly, "Just thinking," you told him before you both dug into the feast that appeared before you.
Over the next few weeks, you settled quickly into your new role as a Professor. You, with the help of Remus after hours, had done up your classroom. Remus had painted the walls as you made a better display area for your Muggle instruments and you set up your record player and all of the records in a nice cabinet. Classes were going well, you were slowly beginning to get your class more and more interested in Muggle Music even Ron Weasley seemed to be more interested once he'd heard some of the music that Muggles made.
It was on the second week of term that Harry Potter asked you and Lupin if he could chat to the two of you about his parents. You'd both agreed and set a time and place. At three o'clock that following Tuesday, Harry knocked on your office door. Remus was already there with you.
"Come in, Harry," Remus smiled warmly. God, his voice was like honey, sweet and warm.
You poured some tea for the three of you and laid out some biscuits. Harry chewed on a biscuit with a slight frown, "Where do you want to start?" You asked him, "Do you have any questions-"
"How did you meet my parents? Sorry, I- I have a lot of questions." His cheeks tinged pink and you shook your head with a smile.
"We have all the time in the world, Harry, don't worry. Any questions you have, we'll answer." You glanced over at Remus who nodded and you began to tell the story of how you first met his parents.
The train was already packed full of Hogwarts students. You nervously checked in each train compartment and got a lot of blank looks from students who looked much older than you. You searched for what felt like forever until you came across a carriage with a nervous looking young boy in it.
"Hi," you said with a nervous smile as you opened the door, "Are you a first year too?" He nodded, "Can I sit with you? All the other carriages are full and I-" his nod cut your babble off."
"As you can tell by Professor (y/l/n)'s first impression of me, I was a rather shy, isolated young boy," Remus said, cutting into your conversation, "it was your dad who brought me out of my shell."
Harry smiled.
You were sitting in silence, the boy didn't want to talk at all so you stayed quiet. After a few minutes, the door slid open and a boy with long dark hair strode in with a boy with circle glasses, "I'm Sirius," he said with a curt nod, "you first years too yeah?"
You nodded as you introduced yourself. Sirius glanced at the quiet boy who sat in the corner, "What's your name?" He asked. The boy ducked his head, "What? Cat got your tongue?"
"Sirius," the boy with circle glasses scolded. They'd only just met and yet they acted like they'd been friends for years, "Sorry about him. I'm James. James Potter." James stuck his hand out to the quiet boy who eyed him for a minute before straightening and accepting his handshake.
"Remus," he said, "Remus Lupin."
James grinned and Sirius quickly moved on, "What house are you all hoping to be in?"
You shrugged, "I'm Muggleborn so I don't really know anything about Hogwarts or magic or anything like that."
Sirius ran through the four houses giving a quick breakdown of them all, "Slytherin's got the reputation for being full of evil witches and wizards... Speaking of, my whole family have been in Slytherin."
"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed all right!" You and Remus laughed at what James had said.
Sirius grinned, "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"
James lifted an invisible sword, "Gryffindor," he said loudly, "where dwell the brave at heart! Like my dad."
Harry's face stretched into an amazed grin, "So my grandfather was a Gryffindor too?"
Remus smiled, "From then, we were inseparable. I met another boy in a class of mine, Peter, and he joined us."
You told Harry of meeting his mother after you were sorted into Gryffindor, "She was always so kind," you told him, "to everyone... except your father at first." Remus laughed, "James immediately fancied Lily and we had to put with him trying to get her attention for years."
"Did she not like him at first then?" The thought made Harry laugh, "What did she do?"
Remus spoke up, "He would always try and impress her, shout to her in public or in class. He was always very brave, your father. Lily would usually roll her eyes and shoot back from sarcastic comment to him."
"He always made us sit close to her and her group of friends at dinner and breakfast," you told him, "and she always liked us, she liked me and Rem, Peter, she even liked Sirius and sometimes Sirius could be hard to swallow but it took a long time for her to warm up to James."
"When was it they got together?" Harry asked curiously.
"Seventh year," Remus said, "your dad had quite a big ego, I'm sorry to say, but in his seventh year he really sorted himself out."
"Became Head Boy," you smiled, "I still think he was doing it to prove his worth to Lily-"
"And it worked?" Harry grinned.
Remus laughed, "Oh it worked. When Lily saw that he had matured, even just slightly, she fell for him. She was Head Girl too so had to spend quite a bit of time with him and it wasn't long before we watched them share their first kiss."
Harry laughed, "What were they like together?"
Your smile was wide as you remembered, "It was like they'd been together forever. They laughed a lot and always had so much fun. Lily was always keeping him in line. And god, once the two of them started dating, they were always kissing much to Sev's displeasure."
Harry frowned and you realised you might have said too much, "Sev? As in Severus? Severus Snape?"
"Unfortunately," Remus nodded, "your father and him didn't get on well at all."
"No wonder," Harry scoffed, "but what did you mean 'much to Sev's displeasure'?"
"Your mother had been friends with Severus, even before Hogwarts, they lived close by and they were friendly." You laughed at Harry yelling 'what?!', "Yes. There was a sort of rivalry with your dad and Snape. He liked your mum-"
"Tell me she didn't go out with him."
Remus chuckled, "No, no, she was his friend until he said some rather unpleasant things to her about her blood type." Harry knew the slur, Malfoy had called Hermione it before, "She wasn't friends with him after that. He never apologised and she turned her back on him but he always had a soft spot for her."
"Maybe that's why Snape hates me," Harry said with a frown, "he's always acted as though I'm the worst student in the world... He hated my dad and was jealous of him."
You shrugged, "Maybe yeah but Sev just hates everyone, Harry... Oh, I have a photo album!" You remembered and you hurried to your office and your adjoined room to dig through your books to find the brown leather book.
When you brought it back through, Harry was excited. He looked through the pictures, soaking each one in. You pointed out you, Remus, Peter and Sirius. He didn't need help pointing out his dad and mum.
"I really do look like him, don't I?" He laughed, "People tell me but he's around my age and... wow. And my mum! Her eyes!"
Tears filled your eyes and Remus's hand stretched across the table to take yours. You looked at Rem with a watery eyed smile which he returned, "Oh, I'm being silly," you said as Harry asked if you were okay, "I haven't seen these photos in years."
Harry looked at a picture of you and Remus where you were laughing together and then he looked at your joined hands, "Professors, this might be too invasive but... are you two together?"
Your eyes widened and heart skipped a beat and Remus's hand suddenly left yours. Remus answered with a laugh and a shake of his head, "Just friends, Harry, just friends." His answer left you feeling a little crestfallen. Were your old feelings for Remus beginning to stir again?
Harry shrugged before returning to the pictures. Your mind whirred. You'd seen the picture of you and Remus as you laughed, not knowing that Sirius had taken the picture until afterwards. You were both so happy, you'd always been so happy with Remus. James had tried to make you tell him but you were so scared that you'd ruin the friendship so it was your second best kept secret, first being Remus's furry friend.
"What were their laughs like?" Harry's question snapped you out of your trance.
You heart panged at his question, "Lily's was very musical," you said with a smile, "happy. But when she was with your dad, he made her belly laugh like no other. Her laughter was loud with him, she'd even snort during it sometimes."
Remus's eyes were glazed over as he remembered James's, "James laughed and you knew you were in for something, usually trouble but he had a laugh that would make you laugh as well no matter the trouble that he was about to get you in."
You looked outside realising that darkness had fallen, "Merlin's beard, look at the time! Dinner will be starting in fifteen minutes, we better go."
Harry looked disappointed, "Fret not, Harry," Remus said clapping his shoulder gently, "we'll happily answer any more questions you have or tell you stories or whatever later, okay?" Harry nodded, thanking you both before Remus sent him on his way.
You exhaled a long breath, "He's so like them both isn't he? Sweet like Lily with a hint of James's confidence."
Remus smiled warmly and agreed before telling you that he was going for dinner, "You coming?"
You nodded, "Yeah, I'll put this away then I'll come." Remus told you that he'd wait. You took your photo album and moved to your office. With a breath, you opened the book to look at the photo of you and Remus again. You looked at the way Remus smiled at you, eyes happy. Did you love him?
Remus called on you, "Are you alright?"
Clearing your throat, you closed the photo album, put it down before going back out to meet him forcing a smile.
The following week was Remus's time of the month. Severus begrudgingly was in charge of making the Wolfsbane for him to drink each day of the week before the full moon. He had asked you to cover a couple of his classes. The week leading up to his transformation was always taxing on poor Remus. He grew sick and lethargic. He managed to do his Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday classes but for the rest of the week, he couldn't manage to get out of his bed. Severus had taken his Thursday classes and you were covering Friday classes. You would bring Remus breakfast and dinner each day, he would hardly eat it but you brought it regardless.
The week passed slowly, you were finding that you missed his presence more and more, craving his conversations and his smiles. Once Friday was gone, he would be fine again. You just had to make it Friday.
On Monday, Harry, Hermione and Ron stayed back after Muggle Music to ask what was wrong with Professor Lupin, "Just a bug," you said with a dismissive shake of your head, "Harry, I'm afraid we'll have to wait until he's back on his feet before we have another little chat, alright?" Harry nodded, fine with that.
On Tuesday, you introduced your class to The Beatles. The different reactions were pretty funny. A few, like Hermione, were already aware but for those like Ron, his jaw dropped and he made you turn it up, "And they're Muggles?!" He said incredulously, "Bloody hell, they're alright aren't they?"
On Wednesday, you met with Minerva in her office for some tea, "How is Remus, dear?" She asked.
"Suffering," you said with a grimace, "not eating much but that's not unusual for the week before. It's usually the week afterwards that he really gorges on food. The potion that Severus is making is good, it means he'll keep his mind for his transformation."
Minerva pursed her lips, "Will you go and visit him when he's transformed?" She eyed you curiously, "As your wolf self?"
Your jaw dropped, "You know?!"
She sipped at her tea with a twinkle in her eyes, "Oh my dear, an Animagus always knows another. Just like I knew Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew were all the same."
Your hand covered your mouth as your cheeks burned, "Oh my god, I can't believe you knew all this time! We thought we were so sly and- you knew the whole time?"
Minerva gave a comical roll of the eyes, "It really wasn't so hard to notice especially when James had the Mandrake leaf in his mouth for a month. The boy's face was permanently disgusted and I knew that feeling all too well."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
Minerva nodded.
"Why did you never stop us? Send us to Azkaban?"
The much older Professor sighed, "Because once I realised what you were all doing, I went to Dumbledore immediately. Of course I knew about Remus and his condition but it was Dumbledore who realised what you were all up to. You were transforming to make his transformation easier for him, keeping him in line and making sure he knew he had friends there looking out for him." She smiled, "Dumbledore would never send any of you to Azkaban for merely looking out for your friend. He was rather proud of you all though he would never dare tell Mr Potter, the size of his ego back then was already huge, could you imagine?"
You laughed loudly, "Oh yeah, James would've never shut up about that if he knew... I can't believe you both knew this whole time. Well, thank you... I probably will go and see him during his transformation, it always helped and even though he keeps his mind I think he might quite like a reminder of a friend. He's a lonely man."
McGonagall eyed you before speaking, "I don't know if you'll remember but I do. In your third year, I was teaching you all about Animagus's after Sirius had queried it. I told you that your Animagus form takes a lot of inspiration from who you are as a person and those you love dearly. Remus is a werewolf, you are a wolf, are you not?" You nodded, "What do you think that means?"
You swallowed feeling rather small in the red armchair that you were sat in, "I... I don't know what you mean." You couldn't hold her gaze. She pursed her lips and stayed silent waiting for you to come to the conclusion yourself. You already knew the answer. You loved him, "I think we both know, Minerva."
She smiled knowingly, "Yes, I suppose we do, don't we? Forgive me for prying, why did the two of you lose contact?"
"It was all too painful," you said with a frown, "After losing James and Lily, losing Peter and having Sirius to blame, it felt awful seeing Remus with that constant reminder hanging over us. We went from seeing each other every day to every other day to once a week... once a month... once every six months to nothing... It's been good getting back here and seeing him again. It's like things never changed between us. A coincidence but a great one."
Minerva placed her teacup down, "My dear, I believe in no such thing as coincidence. I think it was fate."
On Friday, you were taking Remus's morning and afternoon class. He had written down his plans for the week so you were merely following that though when you started, Hermione's hand shot straight up into the air.
"Professor (y/l/n)?" She asked with a curious expression, "With Professor Snape yesterday we were covering werewolves instead of this."
Your heart skipped a beat as you tried your hardest to keep your face neutral, "Oh really?" You shrugged, "He must've read Professor Lupin's plans for the week wrong." You could tell that Hermione wasn't buying it but you carried on, trying not to let it show that what she'd said had rattled you. Was Severus trying to expose Remus's condition to the class? You managed to get through the rest of the afternoon lesson and as soon as you had dismissed the class, you were storming your way to the Potions classroom.
Professor Snape was teaching his first years but you didn't care. You had to speak to him then and there. You knocked loudly on the door and gave a sickly sweet smile, "Professor Snape, can I speak to you privately outside? Won't be a minute."
Snape frowned and told his class to continue reading. He followed you outside, closing the door behind him. You strode across the hall, throwing his office door open and storming inside, "Oh please do come into my office," Snape muttered sarcastically.
Once he'd shut the door you'd rounded on him, "What the bloody hell are you playing at?!"
He raised his eyebrows, "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, bored.
"Teaching them about werewolves? Remus had left his lesson plan for the week on the table and-" you pointed to Snape's desk, "he left you one here. No mention of werewolves, eh, Sev?"
Severus rolled his eyes, "Must have been my mistake," he drawled.
"Bullshit!" You hissed, "You're trying to get him exposed, aren't you? You want him out."
"And what if I do?!" Snape snapped suddenly, "A school is no place for a monster."
"And yet they let you come back?!" You fake gasped, "You've never changed, Snape. Still a rotten, twisted bully."
This angered him, "Me?!" He spluttered, "A bully?! Your beloved friends James and Sirius were the bullies-"
"James never called her a Mudblood though, did he?" Your final blow rendered Severus speechless, "Never treated her like shit, did he? You did and you have to live with the reality that she never loved you - she loved him." You were breathing hard, knowing that you'd overstepped many lines here but you were past caring. Severus's lips were pressed tightly together in a straight line.
With one last glare, you began to leave his office when Severus said quietly, "He won't dare be with you, you know... He's a coward, he'll push you away. Doesn't matter if he does love you or not. He'll never admit to it. He'd rather be alone than be with you." You ignored him and slammed the door behind you but as you hurriedly rushed back to your office, you found tears burning at your eyes... He knew that Severus Snape was telling the truth.
When night fell, you went to Remus's classroom. He had made his way out of his room and was currently taking his last of the Wolfsbane Potion, "What you doing here?" He asked wincing at the foul taste.
"When was the last time your transformed with another furry friend?"
He blinked, surprised at your response, "You're going to stay with me?"
"Yeah. I'll transform once yours starts and I'll stay with you. You always did say it helped you."
"I have the potions now, they let me keep my mind so I'll be myself in my mind. You don't have to-"
"I know," your voice was soft like silk, "but I want to." Remus breathed in deeply, finding that his heart felt rather full.
You helped him lock the door with various protection spells. Neither of you spoke much, you knew how drained he was so instead you just kept him company until the moon began to shine through the windows. You could remember the first time you saw Remus transform and unlike James, who'd been rather disturbed by the cracking bones and elongated limbs, you were fascinated. You watched as he transformed, claws growing, fangs protruding, tufts of hair sprouting all over his face and body as his clothes tore and ripped off.
You closed your eyes, focusing, and then you yourself transformed into your Animagus form. You took the form of your white wolf and waited for Remus to fully transform. When he did, he looked around, golden eyes meeting yours and he gave a low growl. You stayed, unmoving, as you waited for Remus to take over control. He crouched low, growl growing louder. He blinked, gave a shake of his head and his body relaxed. You padded over to him as he lay down, pulling a blanket from his desk and covering him. When in his normal mind, he would sleep and wait for the night to be over. You curled next to him, fluffy head resting on his werewolf's arm, tickling at his neck. There you both remained until day broke.
You woke up early, feeling him transform back to human under your head. You transformed back, pulling the blanket over him. He stirred at the touch. Neither of you spoke but once Remus was fully awake, he realised that he was naked beneath the blanket, "Shut your eyes, will you?" He asked groggily.
You complied and you could hear him get up and go into his office. He called that you could open them so you did, stretching out your muscles. He appeared a few minutes later dressed in brown slacks and a grey button down shirt, the top two buttons left undone. He sat down beside you again, "Thank you for staying with me last night."
You gave him a small, sad smile as you scooted closer, wiping his hair from his face. He was so exhausted, so worn-out... Your heart panged for him, "You look so tired, Rem," your voice was but a whisper, "so tired."
Remus breathed in deeply, overcome with emotion. He loved you. He knew that, he always had and with you being back in Hogwarts and back in his life well that just proved it, didn't it? Where you had touched left his face feeling hot. He swallowed. This was it. This was the moment. The moment to push you away or let you in. God, Remus wanted to let you in, he wanted to kiss you, wanted to hold you, wanted to finally feel you. After all this time and he was still like putty in his hands, ready to do anything you asked of him... But there was something inside him, a dark mass that stretched out poisoning his mind with the darkness. You were his friend, that was all. There was no way that you could love him back. You were out of his league, you pitied him. And then all of a sudden his face changed, contorting to one of anger and he pulled back sharply.
"What are you doing?" He snapped, voice cold and angry, "We're not children anymore."
You were confused. You'd been hoping that he would've kissed you, would've told you how he felt but you never expected this, "Remus, what are you doing?"
He stood with a scoff. You didn't know why he was so angry, what had you done? "I let myself get carried away with you like I'm sixteen again running around with you but I'm not, you're not. We're adults. We're hardly friends now, we've not been in each other's lives for a decade! We're practically strangers." The way he yelled it, voice full of venom and disgust... It was like he was cutting the tie of his one last true relationship and for what reason?
"We are friends, Rem," you said, standing to meet him dominant stance, "You don't have to push me away. You promised I'd be the one you never pushed away!"
"You're not a teenager anymore, (y/n), it's time to stop acting like it." He had turned away from you, uncaring, "So I made a promise I didn't intend to keep, I'm sure you've done the same at one point or another."
"Why are you doing this?" You asked, eyes flooding with tears, "Why are you pushing me away?" You didn't know how to make him stay, you didn't know how to bring him back to you. Could you bring him back? "Remus, please don't do this. I-I care about you, a lot. I..." You took a deep breath, "I- I love you." Your heart hammered as you watched him still. He was still facing away from you and Remus thanked the gods for you couldn't see his teary eyes and pained expression, "I know that you love me... I know you do! Just- Just say it and it'll all be okay, Rem. Just... Just tell me that you love me." There was a pregnant pause. Remus's jaw clenched. He had to push you away, he couldn't risk letting you get hurt, "I'm not scared of you, Remus- I know that you won't hurt me. I-I trust you."
He shook his head as he swallowed hard, "I think you should leave, (y/n). We both have work to do."
You wanted to fight, you wanted to whirl him round, slap him across the face and kiss him to get the message across but your shoulders sagged as all fight drained from your body. He stayed unmoving and facing the opposite way, "I- I've always loved you. Remember when it was my fifteenth birthday and you gave me a first edition copy of my favourite Muggle book? That's when I knew. I knew how much it would've cost you and I- I knew I loved you then."
He stayed still.
"I knew you loved me when we were seventeen. It was after Sirius convinced us all to have one too many shots of Firewhisky and we went out to the Quidditch Pitch and were stupidly riding on brooms. I rode mine straight into one of the goalposts, lost my balance and fell right off of it to the ground. You were so worried about me, you ran to me with the most concerned look on your face, you wouldn't settle until you knew I was okay even though it was just a broken wrist. You were so worried. You stayed with me that night when I was in the hospital. I knew you loved me that night."
Remus took a breath, "I asked you to leave, (y/n)." His voice was tense, "We are colleagues. Nothing more."
You were crying, tears making their way down your cheeks, "You really are a coward," you murmured quietly but you knew he heard you. You left his classroom, slamming the door behind him. Goddamn Snape was right.
Remus managed to get back to his desk chair and sank into it, head in his hands, "What did I do?" Remus's mind wandered to when the two of you first met Harry for the first time, thinking about one of the many moments he was filled with some sort of hope that you could love him back.
Remus couldn't stop smiling as he watched you cradle the tiny baby, baby Harry James Potter, speaking in hushed songs and excited whispers. You looked delighted and seemed like a natural at this. James nudged Remus, breaking him out of his thoughts, "You could have that with her, you know," he murmured softly.
Remus was affronted. Eyebrows raised and arms crossed, he glowered at James, "I- I-" he was like a fish out of water, "Don't be so stupid, Prongs."
James rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Moony," he scoffed, "you love her and she loves you. She always has."
"She does not," Remus hissed. He had often stayed up late, hoping and dreaming that would be true but he knew that it couldn't. He was a monster, how could you ever love that?
"You need proof?" James asked, raising his eyebrows, "You're a werewolf... Her patronus and her Animagus is a wolf. McGonagall told us in third year that your patronus and Animagus take form from who you are and can be persuaded by those you love most. You're a werewolf, she's a wolf. She loves you, you big oaf."
That couldn't be true, could it? Remus watched you with a curious expression. You couldn't love him, could you? How on earth could you love a monster?
And now, over a decade later, you'd finally admitted it to him and Remus had done what he does best; pushed you away because he was scared. He was a coward, "God help me, Prongs," he muttered, head in his hands. He knew that if James were here he would've given him a good rollicking for his reaction to that. He was a coward and that's all he'd ever be. As Remus tossed and turned that night, one sentence that James had said echoed around his head.
"You need to tell her that you love her before it's too late."
tag list: @foodpills @fairyy27 @queen-of-disaster-222 @moon-witchs-world @poppysavage11 @wildtigerlili @lupinandtonks @eury-dice3 @qweengigi @magical-spit @jennifer0305
#one shot#old friend#os#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin imagine#imagine#remus lupin#marauders#harry potter#prisoner of azkaban#reader insert#remus x you#remus x reader#remus lupin x you
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On live
you and tom, its like set in 2023, no hate to heidi but you and tom are married you are back up singer for bill in the band
Tags:@violentnewmarley @oppopotamus
You place your phone down on the coffee table a vase holding it up write as you sip on your tea you just made you glace and some of the questions beings shown on the screen and most of them talking about where tom was you intentionally ignored it until bill asked where he was and when is “lazy bone ass” would get up little did bill know you and tom where getting into a bit of a heated make out sesh before bill started spamming you say shit like how you two need to come on and how the people need to see ALL of tokio hotel even tho gustav is never on/online.
“I am here ladys and gentlemen” tom says in a sing-song tone a complete difrent contrast from before when he was groaning about having to do another live. He slides beside you and moves his arm to be around you neck resting his hand on your opposite shoulder he answers a couple questions and gentely sqeezes your shoulder you look at him and his eyes greet your then look down you follow his eyes and see hes looking and his harden crotch (idk what else word to use ) his eyes flick back up to the camera as not to draw attention to the problem he has, you look back at the camera aswell but slowly move you hand closest to him to slowly palm him through his sweats. After as few miniutes you inch your fingers closer to his waist band grabing both his sweats and boxers and try to pull them down tom fakes and streach and lifts his hips a little bit just enough to get his pants down but not enough for the camera to see his goods.
You look at him as a silent way to ask if he was okay with you doing this and he look as ready as anyone could be for this activity his eyes swimming full of lust you grab him and slowly pump him uo and down tom still talking to the other members and gustav and georg kindly joing the live so tom being more quiet is not as noticed. You spread around his pre-cum around his cock and stroke him faster and see toms breathing speeds up and his hand shake a little bit his hand go to the simble for the filters and he swipes giving him new fliters every second you giggle at some of the funny ones so you didnt look too distracted by what you were doing with your hands.
You had been doing this for a while now you two had almost been caught when bill had to repeat to tom a question, when tom did answer the first noise he had made was a groan before quickly saying what bill wanted to hear “what was that groan from tom aye” georg raising and eyebrow with a questioning look in his eyes “oh just feeing a bit ill georg no need to get worryed over little ole me” tom says ending the sentence with a chuckle hiding his groan as his cock throbs more frequently sending a message that he was close to cumming . He leans forward and places his hand over his mouth to muffle the groans that are getting louder you stroke harder and tighter going faster you hear a loud groan come from tom and you down to see cum leaking out and lading on the sides of the table and on his sweats you look at toms face and see his eyebrows knitted together and jaw clenched tightly. You look at the screen sending a look off pity to them for tom “___ is tom algs” bill asked “yeah, i think he really not feeling well so sorry that we have to end the live on our part, i feel like tom wouldnt be to happy to see edits of his vomiting over the camera” you chuckle before exiting the live
“Jesus christ, how did we pull that off” tom says panting between breaths trying ti even out his breathing “yeah ik i think georg might of caught on thank god he didnt say anything else tho” you giggle at toms exspression “we should do that again” you say thinking bout it in your “yeah, sure your the one that gonna cum tho i dont think i can do that again” tom sighs with a smile on his lips.
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Perv!Eddie humping bestfriend! reader or using their hand to jerk off while they're sleeping at a sleepover
(Cw: perv!eddie, somno, 18+)
Ohhh absolutely. Eddie’s just so enamoured with you. Absolutely in love with you. Severely aching to be with you, to have you all the time. So he comes up with these little schemes.
Even though Eddie’s a nasty perv, and he knows it, he’s also not brave enough to tell you how he feels. Not yet. He’s sure if you ‘caught him’ then he could smirk and find that confidence while he makes you feel good, then that would be a great time for him to do what he needs. Eddie knows just how to work his magic on you, maybe you’re harbouring a little crush for the town metal head too.
So he invites you over for a sleepover! Or more so, you were already coming over to smoke pot, and Eddie was just being his entertaining self long enough for the time to simply slip you by. And when you finally noticed how dark it was outside, Eddie circled his arms around your waist and spun you closer, away from his door. Still dancing with you in the kitchen, to the George Michael song he swore he’d only listen to if he was playfully ‘jamming out’ to it, with you. A fact that always made you shyly smile. He convinces you to stay, still swaying with you to the music. Spinning you around and around with his hand until you got dizzy, and he caught you again, his hands sneaking under your shirt, on your lower back.
You were pretty tired anyway, Eddie always had a way of tuckering you out, whether it was from his own energy, or getting you to do things. And Eddie says Wayne’s already gone, it’s perfect!
Eddie even gets you in his clothes for pyjamas and God, he could actually drool. But sorry, his ac is busted, and most of his comfortable pants are dirty or in the wash. Eddie even lightly kicks away a pair of grey sweats, that clearly have white patches on them. Him kicking them under the bed had been the reason you’d seen those stains, looking away to spare his modesty. Even though Eddie had kicked them on purpose, to really set in that his comfy pants were dirty. And to maybe put a thing or two in your mind. You didn’t want them!
You can put on one of his shirts and keep your underwear on, you can even run straight under the covers, he promises he won’t peek - he covers his eyes with his hands as he says that, pushing two of his fingers apart, and coyly smiling at you, before pressing them in harder. Keeping them over his face, even as he heard you giggle at his antics.
When you suggest taking up the sofa, Eddie profoundly swears against it. He’s your best friend! He doesn’t have cooties, does he? You two are just friends! You do way more intimate things all the time. A fact that gets you to bend your head even at the suggestion, making Eddie’s heart beat faster, wondering if you remember those ‘practice’ kissing sessions, or the spin the bottle games, or the way he holds you just like a boyfriend does, touches you in those ways, how he carries you places, plays with you, all the sweet pet names you constantly call each other. Don’t you trust him? Come on sweetheart... It’s just sleeping! You’ll both be out before you even know it. And hey, he’s not uncomfortable with it! So don’t worry.
You jump into the covers while Eddie still has his back turned, which helps because he doesn’t have to cover up his smirk, not that he would of anyway. And he can feel your eyes on him. Which is when he drops his jeans, leaving him in his black boxers, as Eddie takes off his shirt for the day.
When Eddie turns around you’re still looking at him, like you can’t turn away, and Eddie’s so pleased with himself, as he goes to find a pyjama shirt, a shorter one. “Oh, by the way, do you like my new piece? I thought it’d also be your kind of thing.” Eddie comes forward, showing you his bare, tattooed, chest, and he swears he sees your hands itch towards him.
Instead you just nod, humming and Eddie smiles. Putting on his shirt (in a bit of a show), just to ease you in a bit. And since he knows you definitely like his bare chest, maybe it’s something he can give you as a treat later. As well as being something to keep you wanting, something you’re going to be thinking about until you dream, so close yet unattainable, just like you were for him. Until tonight.
You rest your head on Eddie’s chest, once he’d reached over your body to turn off the lamp, and he even gave you a kiss to the corner of your lips, a simple kiss goodnight, one you returned to his cheek. Cute. You snuggled into his chest, resting your arms on his torso, and Eddie gets to hold you. Something he really enjoys, holding you in his arms. And soon, you’re drifting off to sleep, but not before slipping your leg between his, and your palm spreads over his chest, over where his new tattoo is, lips pressed into his shirt. Then, after about an hour of just holding you, Eddie gets to have a different kind of fun.
Something he’d been thinking about since the moment he met you. And something he just can’t help, he just needs you so badly.
You’ve turned around a little at this point, in sleep. Your back to him, but still clinging onto his arm that had been around your front (over your tits), drooling slightly on his hand. Eddie didn’t mind, drool away baby, so said Eddie, lightly brushing your ever soft cheek. Eddie’s other hand was laying on the curve of your waist.
He lifts the covers up now, to get a peek at your ass, your thighs, your hips, covered by only your panties. Goddamn, you’re as pretty as he imagined. Eddie lightly rests his hand on your outer thigh, no rings at this time of night, his guitar player fingers stroking up and down your smooth skin. Did you moisturise your thighs as well? Or did you just always feel this good?
Lifting the covers a little more, not wanting to expose you to the air too much, Eddie gets a proper look at what you’re wearing. Comfortable black panties, high on your hips, shielding them, but lacy at the sides. The material only just covering your ass. Something that would be found indecent to the civilians of Hawkins Indiana, but something so so sexy to Eddie. “Wear this just for me baby? So pretty on you.” Eddie mumbled, your body only rising and falling softly with breath in response. He loved that you wore black panties to come and see him, you knew that that was his favourite colour. And holy shit did they look good on you.
Eddie slid his hands down your panties, not anywhere private just yet though. Only down your hips. Eddie shuddered a breath as he got his hand down there, his calloused fingertips reaching the end hem of your panties at the side, and then going further. Eddie just held your hip for a while. Before rubbing his hands smoothly, up and down your hip. Massaging his thumb over the bone, bringing his palm back up to lay on your waist, rubbing you lovingly there.
With a sigh, Eddie decided to lay his thumb on the luxurious curve of your waist, his fingertips venturing down again, and sliding beneath your pretty panties. Having to bite his lip, with an annoyed face, to stop himself from circling your hip. He didnt want to fuck things up and wake you. Not yet.
Eddie slowly lowered your panties, only a little. Not enough to indecently expose you, not yet. Just so he could see those hips, so your waist could be free, so he could be teased just that bit more.
Fuck Eddie hates teasing himself. He can’t even edge himself with your stolen vibrator, he couldn’t do this. The vibrator you cried to him about, terrified your parents had found it and were waiting to tell you off for. Admitting you even had one to him a moment of vulnerability after Eddie calmly coaxed you into telling him what’s wrong when faced with you crying.
Eddie wasn’t really planning on returning it, but fuck, he couldn’t watch you cry. Especially not when you were crying to him, shaking into his chest. And anyway, once Eddie returned it behind a ‘jammed’ desk drawer it must’ve fallen into, he was returning it very well loved and used, so watching you use it again from your window was actually way more fun, after he’d already used it himself enough times.
Eddie pulls your panties up, wedging them in between your ass cheeks, and tight on your mound, wondering if that feels good for you too, even in sleep. And finally being able to have more of your ass on display, your shapely pussy tight against the clothing. God... what Eddie wouldn’t give to be able to lick your pussy. Even once, even through your clothes!
...Fuck it, he’d give risking his plan. Eddie wasn’t a strong man. Eddie leaned down, his hands fisting his sheets so he didn’t squeeze you instead, as he peered his big brown eyes down at you. Before his nose pressed into the curve of your ass, and he let his long tongue flatten against your pussy. Licking up in a long stripe against your cunt, before shifting his head up, only to see you wriggling in sleep, still comfortably on his pillow he’d humped last night picturing you. Fuck... even through your panties you tasted good. Eddie licked his lips again, patting away some drool from the corner of them with the back of his hand.
He really wanted to go back in, but that would wake you too quickly. And he wanted to stick to his plan. Cupping himself through his own underwear, he could tell he’d need to soon, before he exploded. But Eddie releases his grip, he doesn’t need to touch himself anymore. He has you.
Eddie gets back to the position he was in before, taking one more look at you, so perfect like this in front of him, and places his hand on your warm, bare back. Before thrusting himself gently into the curve of your ass.
Again, Eddie does this, his hand now on your waist, steadying you, so he’s not jiggling you about too much, he wouldn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep.
He humps slowly against your ass, more so pressing the outline of his hard cock in his boxers against you, sliding it over your backside, before wiggling down, and humping up into your warm cunt. Sighing shakily as he forces himself to gulp down a breath, keeping his hands gentle on your waist, as he humps his clothed cock over your heated cunt, and into the bottom of your ass, doing this over, and over, until his thrusts were at a slow, but steady and rhythmic pace.
Eddie wraps his arm around your stomach, then quickly changes as he realises his opportunity, holding his bat tatted arm over the length of your torso, his hand talking a greedy, but still gentle, grab of your tit. Holding your breast in his hand, and pressing his nose into your back as he shoots out a needy sigh, at being able to feel your nipple through his shirt. It wasn’t even cold in here.
He keeps dryhumping you, desperately trying not to squeeze, but just fondling your breast instead. Were you feeling this? Were you dreaming about him? God he hoped you were. Eddie moans into your shoulder blade, his face smushed there to avoid any loud sounds, as his cock ruts hard against you, feeeling your pussy lips starting to open up around him, his other hand bringing your panties up tighter, allowing his cock to slip through them just a bit, even with both your pants on.
Eddie couldn’t stand if you were dreaming about someone else. He ruts more, sloppy. Eddie needs you, needs you like air, for him to keep going through his day. He pants heavily onto your back, and he’s sure you’d be able to feel the wet heat, sticking your shirt to you. Eddie would do anything for you, and he can’t believe he’s finally here, so close to getting what he wants. He presses a small kiss to the back of your neck, rutting up further into you, even through your panties, like he was trying to rip a goddamn hole through them and...
God. Were you wet?
Eddie forced himself to lean back just a little, his tongue between his lips as he trembled a whine. And while there was definitely a spot of pre in his underwear, the white glob being obvious in your black pants too, Eddie looked down as saw a wet patch in your underwear. Dark, and right where your pussy lay, sticky, and wet.
Oh my god.
Eddie dove in again, his hand reaching under your shirt to grab your tit properly as he moaned quietly into your ear, his face on yours, hair all over you, as he repeated his humping. His pace picking up as he slammed into your backside, needing your cunt so so so badly.
When you start to wake up, Eddie’s already drooling down your neck, it slipping down his shirt and past your tits. You’d think he was just drooling in his sleep, if it wasn’t for the voice that so obviously belonged to Eddie, moaning, in your ears. And more so, the fact you woke up with pleasant spikes shooting through your cunt. And you could feel Eddie rutting against you.
A gasp left you before you could even stop it, although it was more of a moan. Eddie squeezed your tit now, finally able to, and you just held onto his hand through the shirt, brain still waking up.
“Here. Lemme help you.” Eddie whispers right under your ear, into your cheek, his drooling lips moving against you. And before you know it your top is thrown off, and you’re backing into Eddie even more at the sudden exposure.
Something Eddie throughly enjoys, holding you closer, his other hand meshed with your hair on your shoulder, as he humps up further into you.
You’re starting to wake up more now, sure you just fell asleep at your best friends house. “E-Eddie?-“
You’re cut off with a squeak, as Eddie’s hand that was on your tit, is suddenly over your mouth.
“Please.” Eddie groans, humping up into you and you can hear the slap of both your thighs. Not sure if it was you who was so wet, creating that sticky sound, or Eddie. “Just let me have this. Be such a good girl for me. Even lick my cum out of your perfect little cunt once I’m done. Lick you clean, promise. Know you just want me so bad.” Eddie whines into your face this time, gutturally, and unashamedly needily so. Turning his head it seems on purpose, so his hot breath hits your cheek even more, as he whines into you.
You take Eddie’s hand, firmly in yours, but when you bring it away from your mouth, and further down than where you tit is, Eddie momentarily pauses.
But it’s not enough for you to even notice, because you’re already putting Eddie’s very skilled fingers you’ve always taken notice of, down your pants, and against your soaked thumping clit. “Please Eddie. Was close before you woke me up.”
You didn’t even know where this was coming from. You just woke up in a haze of lust, and didn’t care about your best friend dry humping you with all his love when you’d never done anything like this before. You just knew Eddie was making you feel good, and you wanted him to finish what he started. No thoughts. Just what Eddie had made you feel.
Eddie of course snatches his opportunity, moaning grossly indecently in your ears, which only made you moan back, holding his toned arm as Eddie rubbed your clit furiously, worshipping it with his fingers, and knuckles, and thumb, his heel, and his entire hand for all it was worth, moaning lewd words into your ears, as he drooled against your cheek, which were only making you wetter. His bouncing curls you loved so much sticking to your dampened face, as Eddie kept grinding on you.
Bringing his hand up to stick his fingers in his mouth, something that made you rock back into his rock solid bulge as you watched in pure lust, Eddie looking like he was about to cum just from tasting you, before sticking his wet fingers right back against your clit. “Fuck yeah. Shit baby, been wanting you for so long. Glad you finally got your fuckin eyes open. God, I’m gonna cum in you till I actually pass out in this bed. You’re mine now. Want to be mine? Want you so bad. Kept fucking my fist to you every night. Used your vibrator so much it almost broke. Want to be mine? Know you do. Bout to cum all over me. I can fuckin feel it. So dirty for me. Knew you wanted me.” Eddie bites your ear, tugging on it as he pants moans of swears and praise and filth into your ear.
Eddie’s quickly cumming in his pants, crying out your name in his loud voice as he keeps humping you, his hand crushed under your body but still rubbing your clit with speed as he humps you into the bed, spreading his cum all over your painted pussy until you’re spraying in his hand. Screaming out Eddie’s name, which only gets him to cum more, spreading it over you as much as he can as he thrusts his dick against the wet warmth of your cum ridden pants, fucking himself against it, and holding you so closely, all the while you ride his hand, gripping onto your best friend just as tight. Both of you adding new stains to Eddie’s bed.
#if u ever wonder why sometimes I take longer to respond to asks half the time it’s bc I can NOT stop talking lmfao#I swear I thought this would be like 1/5 the length when I started#Eddie Munson/reader#citrussy#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson#stranger things#anon#ask#Eddie Munson drabble#Eddie Munson blurb#Eddie Munson thoughts
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Why me?
A/n: TW: eating disorder. I don't have much experience writing about these types of things, but I do want you to know you aren't alone. I'm sorry in advance if this is in any way offensive.
You're in your hotel room, getting changed for an interview including Tokio Hotel. They've been your best friends since forever, and you loved supporting them.
You always had a positive attitude, well at least in front of the boys. Truth was, you liked Tom, maybe even more than liked. But it brought you down to see him flirting with other women, more perfect than yourself. Perfect hair, skin, body, voice, everything looking impossible for you to compete with.
You sighed, pinching at your skin, almost in tears. "Why am I not perfect?" you questioned, poking at your stomach. It wasn't flat like the girls Tom seemed to enjoy his nights with.
"Y/n!" A voice yelled. It must've been Georg. "You coming?" He called. "Yeah!" you wiped the small tears off your face, plastering on a smile. "I'm so excited" You grinned, putting what just happened in your room in the back of your mind.
You both rushed into the tour bus, panting. "Hi" you said, gasping for air, looking at Tom, Bill, and Gustav. They waved, and Tom motioned for you to sit next to him. "I'm exhausted" you complained, leaning on Tom's shoulder. He laughed, chest shaking. His laugh made you so happy, it brightened up your day almost every time.
They arrived at the interview and sat down on the couch. You watched from backstage, seeing a woman with impossible features, she looked so put together. Tom warmed right up to her, and your heart slowly broke. Sure, you knew he flirts with every woman on the planet, but it still hurt.
She kept adjusting her shirt, throwing her hair over her shoulder so Tom would look down. Each time he did, a lump appeared in your throat. You decided you had enough and walked back to the bus.
Every night, he had some girl in his room. Whether it be from the club, an interview, or a concert, he would just pick them up and give them a semi-good time. You craved that, wanting to be that close to him, but you knew deep down it'd never happen.
Thirty minutes went by, and they came back in the bus, Tom was bragging about giving the woman his number. He sat by you again, noticing something was slightly wrong. "Y/n? Is everything okay?" He whispered so the others wouldn't hear. They were too busy discussing songs for a new album anyway. "Mhm," You beamed, trying to reassure him. "Alright," He said in a wary voice, turning away to talk to the rest of the band. You mentally sighed with relief.
Back at the hotel, it was late, and you had locked yourself in your room, telling everyone you just weren't hungry. You slowly sobbed, clenching the sheets, turning up the TV a little loud so no one would try to check on you. You hated yourself for being like this, so desperate, so ugly, knowing you'd never, ever get Tom's full attention. It made you cry harder. You couldn't quite sleep, as the woman from the interview was in Tom's room, yelling, moaning, and gasping.
You heard her shrill voice from the tiny walls separating the rooms. "Tom! Oh God! I need you!" she screeched. You buried your head in your pillows, trying to drown out the noise. Did she have to be so loud, especially at this time of night? You thought to yourself.
The next week you cast yourself away from them, growing more and more tired, having almost little to no energy. Your problem only got worse. You knew doing this wasn't healthy, but you couldn't stand to see Tom.
Every day, they tried to get you to come out. You had never acted like this before, and they knew something was up, despite your "I'm just tired" and "I ate something already, don't worry".
A few more days went by, and you heard a knock at your door. "Y/n, it's Georg, can I come in?" He sighed. You opened the door, just a shrivel. "Can I help you?" He saw your eyes, how dark they were, the circles so prominent you could spot them in pitch darkness.
He forcefully pushed the door open, looking at your pale, small frame. "Y/n.. why?" He looked up at you, tears forming in his eyes.
"Why do you care?" You snapped, angered. "It's not a big deal" You crossed your arms over your chest. "It is a big deal." He says, eyes blazing. "You haven't gone anywhere for nearly two weeks and I check up on you to see you like this" He gestures to your body. "Please, we all miss you, tom's been miserable"
"Why should he care, he's the one who started all this" You mumble under your breath, but Georg hears you. "What do you mean?" He asks, confused. "He brought home the girl from the interview, the one with the perfect body, perfect features, and I couldn't sleep all night. I'm sick of it, Georg" You sighed, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying.
"Please, just hang out with us again." He pleads. "You don't have to talk to Tom, I'll make sure of it" His eyes begged you to agree. "Fine" You scoff, pushing him out. "I'm going to bed."
You slowly began to hang out with the band more and in your room less, avoiding Tom at all costs.
One day, Tom knocked on your door. "Who is it?" You questioned. "Can I come in?" You recognized the voice, it was him. You opened the door, and he hugged you immediately. "I've missed you so much," He said, voice wavering. You shoved him off of you. "Bull, you haven't said anything to me, Georg was the only one man enough to care"
His eyes began to water, and he apologized. "You're right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brushed you off, how about I make it up to you by hanging out with you tonight, just us" He asked softly, rubbing my arm. I nodded my head in agreement, and he smiled. "Great, I'll get snacks, we'll relax, it'll be perfect" You froze at that word, but quickly brushed it off.
I walked to the living room to see a bountiful amount of snacks, drinks, and candy. It made my heart slowly race, as I sat down next to Tom. He put on some movie, it looked like it was made in the nineties. "this is my favorite movie, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do" He beamed at me. He pulled me onto him so my back was lying on his chest. I felt his heartbeat, pacing slowly. It felt...strangely nice. He popped some Skittles into his mouth, offering me some. I shook my head in refusal, pushing it back. His eyebrows furrowed but shrugged and ate the rest.
The movie finished and he asked me why I hadn't eaten a single thing. I could sense his concern, and I tried to deflect as much as I could. "Oh I uhm, I'm just not in the mood for sweets" I smiled sheepishly. He shook his head and said "You never eat anything, I see you, everyone else always eats but you. Why?" His eyes gazed into mine as I slowly began to cry. He hugged me tightly and whispered sweet things in my ear, but he didn't stop pressing on why I didn't eat. "y/n, do you have something you need to talk about?" He gently questioned, arms holding me in place.
"You're always hanging out with the most beautiful women ever, they're so perfect, so extraordinary, and I'm just...me" I laughed softly before continuing. "They never look bad, never have a bad day, always perfection. They made me feel awful Tom, and seeing them with you broke my heart. I slowly began eating less and less, thinking I could match them, be a clone, so you'd like me. But it didn't work obviously, because I'm still ugly, and paler than ever" I said laughing before breaking into sobs. He watched me, before going to squeeze the living daylights out of me. I felt a soft liquid drip onto my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his back.
"I didn't know I made you feel like that my dear" My heart nearly skipped a beat when he called me that. I felt like somebody, for the first time in a while. "I'm sorry Tom" I whispered through heavy cries. His eyes widened, looking deep into mine. Those deep, gorgeous brown eyes were going to be my Roman empire. "Do not apologize, it's my fault" He said, wiping his tears. We stayed like that for the rest of the night. Bill, Gustav, and Georg walk in, taking pictures of us sleeping.
Bill's POV:
"They look so peaceful together, I knew they were meant for each other" I whispered to Gustav, who nodded, smiling at the two
The End
A/n: Please talk to someone if you're experiencing this, not a single soul, no matter who, should EVER have to go through this.
#tokio hotel#tokio hotel x reader#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz imagines#tom kaulitz angst#tom kaulitz
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