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#reminisce about it n shit
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"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:
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And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.
Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.
Much love. xxx
please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]
ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—
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sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.
(i am feeling unhinged about it)
SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:
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The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore
^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this
that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.
it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.
maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.
sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3
#liv in the replies#every time you send me a message i do the thing where i’ve got heart emojis for thumbs & cease any coherency#FIRSTLY chris driedger who i loved as seattle’s goalie without even knowing the story:#dreidger fourth layer of a dream is making me tear up AGAIN hours later as i try to write this the echl the coast easy come hard to leave &#when he talks about being somebody’s guy laying my head down in the bog & dragging my hands over my face chris who let you say that. who let#u break my HEART i truly don’t think i will ever recover from the inception reference bc that’s what they all talk abt u know? the nhl dream#the players’ tribune articles are often some of the most poetic & touching sports writing & every time i am reminded i lose my shit about it#SECONDLY:#the ever present spectre of dylan’s first boyfriend zach werenski#i have so so so many quotes? drafts? posts? about the thing with saying someone’s name to call them closer to you i say your name to speak#more of you into the world so i will possibly look for some of those to say what i mean but also: this poem was originally reminiscent of#willingly by tess gallagher which is my ajax jack / superbuddies poem & this specifically did go with the a drop of paint / the light has#fallen through you part of it but there’s a part of THIS poem which i did not include that talks about the late light / has already happened#will go on happening forever & that whole poem with this now to say i know it’s embarrassing i’m asking for it :: easy to write about light#like falling asleep on the couch & having to carry yourself up to bed is the dylan/zach heartbreak of this. waiting & waiting for the things#you used to do & the love you used to / were promised to have with the hope that if you keep the coffee ready he’ll come drink it & instead#you have too many cups of tea one yours & one cold then half-warmed over & too sweet for your tastes but you’ve learned to drink it anyway#okAY now third:#this w/the UMICH BOYS? N O I DIDN’T EVEN!!! NOT A THOUGHT IN MY BRAIN!!! & now i can’t stop thinking!!! & i had an entire PLAYLIST already#a ??? while ago before i even truly knew the umich boys Narratives™️ i heard maude latour’s song ‘one more weekend’ & went hahaha isn’t that#a great song for when you have that One Summer of college before everyone splits off into their own lives? isn’t that a fun little umich boy#going into the nhl narrative?? to which i said NO but then it spiraled into a playlist &now there is delightful heartbreak to go with vibes#umich scholars please feel free to correct me if i’m wrong on any points i can’t remember anything presently about anything#also the f a c t that that vegas picture is real and i know exactly what you’re talking about is making me %^•*]+£’ bc how!! is that real!!!#okay ALSO just throwing in brinksy like a casual AHAHA have brainworm for a year (my autocorrect tried to go bringst like angst which. lmao)#connor and dylan… all of my journeymen… we did not touch that because i WILL start yelling about sam gagner and marc staal and#the chrysalis and the caterpillar
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hemipteran · 1 year
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pop a caffeine pill im sweatin’
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cl6teen · 3 months
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affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know
masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii
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summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.
note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)
❀ silverstone ❀
The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance. 
Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.  
His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”
“Over here.”
You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip. 
“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest. 
“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”
Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.
“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando. 
“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”
Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?
But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—
Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?” 
“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”
“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.
Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car. 
“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that. 
The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.
In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.
Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket. 
He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.  
“Tonight was…”
Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.
However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.  
“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”
“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”
It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room. 
The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come. 
The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.
“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”
“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”
His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down. 
“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages. 
He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word. 
You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to. 
He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would. 
“—did you hear me? Are you done?”
He should leave.
“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”
“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.
Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.
“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”
You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?” 
“Here you are, missy.”
You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.
The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?
“So what happened with the girl?”
“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”
You and me. 
Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”
He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”
“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.” 
“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”
“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”
“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out. 
“And then your personality came to light.”
The witted banter between you always comes  naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando. 
“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”
“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.”
He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true. 
The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.
But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”
“About what?”
“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question. 
“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.
“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.
“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”
Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive. 
“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes. 
You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”
“So it never crossed your mind?”
Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.
At least, that’s what he hopes. 
“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?” 
“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder. 
“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”
What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less. 
And Lando…
He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—
“It’s not going to happen.” 
—do for you.
You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself. 
Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.” 
While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.
But boy does he want it.
Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air. 
“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.
“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.” 
“Just this once…”
Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.
It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.
Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.
It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated. 
Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much. 
“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”
He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.
“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised. 
And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight. 
“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else. 
“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”
It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly. 
If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible. 
“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”
To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.
“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.
You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal. 
“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”
You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible. 
When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it. 
“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs. 
His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.
He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.
“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.
“Hi.”
“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.
“Yeah.”
❀❀
tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday
(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)
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sssilverstoned · 3 months
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reminiscing ꩜ ln4
type: instagram/twitter au
Fans suffer days leading to love's holiday without their favorite couple.
lily said: hi! my first fic here, my first social media au ever, hope u enjoy :) will be a part 2 and 3..maybe more as well. whatever my heart desires and such
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call her daddy podcast, 2/6/23
alex cooper and special guest: y/n l/n
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y/n l/n: my friends keep trying to get me on dates, but i don't know, i'm just too much of a homebody right now. trying my best, but i'm rusty.
alex cooper: right, and i totally don't want to bring it up, if you don't want it out, but...
y/n l/n: no, it's totally fine. and yes, i'm single. it's one of those things i figured people will start to pick up on, it's kinda how life like this goes.
alex cooper: like a microscope on your relationship?
y/n l/n: exactly. made stuff super stressful, especially since we started dating when we were 19.
alex cooper: shit, 5 years is longer than i thought!
y/n l/n: we grew up together, had so many highlights and growing pains, and i don't want to get on your show and wallow or pout, that's really not what i feel. and i hope no one thinks anyone did anything wrong, it's just a growth thing. some people, as they grow, grow differently. and apart, i guess.
alex cooper: but you still have love for each other, i know that for sure.
y/n l/n: i'll never ever lose that love, i don't think.
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Liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, and 1,264,997 others
landonorris Quite a birthday today! Another year around the sun, another year of me kissing your face. Love you the most.
user1 yassss OUR girlfriend!
yourusername To the moon and back baby!!!!
yourusername Not pictured: his slobber on my cheek
landonorris You quite like my slobber, no? oscarpiastri I surely don't
user2: you two really are growing up together :')
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yourusername Sweet boy took me for a picnic, had too much wine hahaha. Thank you all for the birthday wishes, my heart is singing!!!! 23, woah am I close to getting old?
user1 SWEET BOY oh you people are sick
landonorris The most stunning girl, even napping
landonorris and yes you're old now user2 CORNYYYY (i'm ready to end it all) user3 "you're old now" and what are you??
emrata Wine's always a good idea
bellahadid happy birthday baby! come visit soon
user4 does that say lando on her necklace . i'm gonna snap soon
sza Loveeeee. U my favorite, Happy Solar Return!
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f1gossipcentral submission from a fan today in monaco:
i met lando today with a few others, he was so nice! we didn't want to ask flat out about y/n, he actually brought her up in passing when someone mentioned being from the same hometown as her, and he pointed it out himself. he didn't have the same energy we're used to when speaking about her, but it's obvious there was love in his voice, a lot of it. he's still got her friendship bracelet she made him last year on, but i think it's the type you'd have to cut to get off. regardless, i hope the best for him, and her too.
user1 you're telling me just the name of her hometown and he BLURTS about her?? AFTER being broken up??? yeah we're never seeing pearly gates atp
user2 is this what a broken home feels like?
user3 SHATTERED home. and yes. user4 y/n lando please. come home the kids miss you
user5: single y/n...don't hate me but i would love a baddie era
user6: oh this is not a safe space for you.
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emperorundying · 4 months
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The Locked Tomb Dashboard Simulator
💎 saintofawe ☑️ Follow
It always astounds me how dreadfully boring pre-resurrection media sounds.
💎 saintofawe ☑️ Follow
"And then he loved him but only in the Spanish dub" why is the dub only kind of span.
#our dear necrolord is reminiscing about his 'Favorite Johnlocks' again #duplicitous sluts please interact #i need a fucking break
( 17,928 notes )
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🦷 gleam_of_a_jewel Follow
"Don't transvestigate religious figures" Cyrus the First had a pussy and I will die on this hill.
#gem.txt #before tower dickrider anons infiltrate my asks #my great great aunt was a distant relative of his cavalier #also i'm right
( 2,897 notes )
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💉 se7en Follow
for important necromantic research 😇
🧠 scapulascissors Follow
half these people have not been heard from in thousands of years i don't know whether those dicks are really at their peaks anymore
👾 nyecromansea Follow
Where's my "Anyone-But-Two-Pump-Chump-Gaius" option?
🧟 graveyardshift Follow
LET ME PICK JOY'S FLESHMAGIC FOOTLONG YOU ABSOLUTE COWARD.
#they HATE to see a girlboss win #miss second saint to serve the emperor undying please girl just one chance #yes she's missing yes it's because she's in my bed every night #what about it
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💀 towerofficial ☑️
In response to any concerns about a contagious black goop spreading to The Houses, The Tower would like to emphasize that this is not currently something anyone in The Houses should worry about. It is under control, and remember that tomorrow is Resurrection Day!
👤 necrodykez-deactivated-1678946
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👤 resurrectionbeastmode-deactivated-1678579
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👤 mogaius-deactivated-1678948
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👤 cavgenderrr-deactivated-1675827
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👤 kinkayquinque-deactivated-1683648
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👤 r1bc4g3-deactivated-1683645
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👤 cavcocks420-deactivated-1689265
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👤 blasphemiec-deactivated-1691082
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💀 towerofficial ☑️
S. Time is a flat fucking circle.
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🫀 chussy Follow
anyone else feel like the anti-nine-houses rhetoric on this site has skyrocketed since the princes were crowned? i don't want to say it's lesbophobia but.....
👤 antizombieactivism-deactivated-1947582
Are you fucking serious???? Not everything is about sexuality holy shit can you think critically for two seconds, The N*crolord literally has been fucking over planets for millennia.
🫀 chussy Follow
that legit does not account for the rise.... idk im just saying
#tell me you hate butches without telling me you hate butches #embarrassing!!!
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☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-dead-yet Follow
still no
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hoshigray · 7 months
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random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.
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a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol
cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.
wc: 1k
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"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"
"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"
"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."
It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.
But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.
Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.
Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.
That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.
Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.
"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.
"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.
"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.
"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.
"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."
God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.
...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...
"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"
Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."
The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"
Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.
"Hmm? What happened?"
"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."
Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."
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phas3d · 3 months
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Comforting You | Slytherin Boys
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masterlist!
type :: angst, comfort
tw/cw :: death (draco), eating + passing out (mattheo), depression + eating (theodore), bullying + panic attack (lorenzo)
members :: draco, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo
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Draco (acts of service / gift giving)
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Teasing you was Draco's full time job, no matter the time, day, or place. You knew this very well and got used to it over time
But during flying class, you lost your special necklace. Many people didn't understand your frantic state and ignored you as you flew to the ground to search for it
It was the necklace your best friend gave you in elementary school. It was the only remaining item you had of them after they died.
As you searched the ground, Draco made fun of you and called you dramatic, materialistic, and more insults. But your already overwhelmed mind from losing your necklace and the degrading comments led you to cry as you continued to search.
"You flew around the entire area and river, only to notice NOW that your necklace is missing? You idiot, it's probably in the river or some animal stole it." Draco said as he scoffed at you as you continued to crawl on the floor and search every crevice for the necklace.
There is no voice of reason in Draco's head, so he instinctively kicked you, making you fall onto your side. He was about to laugh and call you pathetic, but he saw the tears stream down your face. Everything was too overwhelming as you reminisced about your past best friend and the negative comments Draco kept stating.
He panicked at the sight of your tears, instantly shutting his mouth. He pulled you up so that you would stand, making strong eye contact with you which you avoided like the plague.
"(Y/N)? What's wrong??? I'll buy you a new necklace!" He says in a desperate attempt to comfort you. "It's okay! You'll get a new one-"
"I don't want a new one!" You said firmly, as you got out of his grip and searched once again. Draco wasn't dumb, he knew the necklace must have had some significance to you.
He sighed, hating how you made him do thing he never thought he'd do. With a wave of his wand and a few words, every piece of metal within the area came flying towards him.
You stood up, searching through the floating pieces of random metal until you found your necklace and smiled widely. The second you saw it, you instantly put it back on as Draco put all of the random metals back to their original spot.
He walked up to you and pinched his robe, grabbing a clean spot as he gently wiped your tears. Your smile instantly made him smile, but he was glad you couldn't see it since you were still staring at your necklace.
Mattheo (words of affirmation + praise)
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You stayed up all night for almost a week straight just to study for the finals coming up
It was genuinely one of the worse weeks of your life. You skipped hanging out with friends, kept forgetting to eat, and even passed out while studying multiple times
It got to the point that even teachers reached out to you to remind you to take care of yourself first, but you didn’t listen
The exam came and you thought you did well, until you saw the C- on your exams over and over and over again
You didn’t want to be a brat, technically you passed, but you wasted a whole week just to barely pass. You felt so stupid and felt like all your efforts was wasted
All you did for a whole day was cry in your bed, skipping all of your classes. You thought no one would notice, but of course Mattheo did
“(Y/N)?!” Matt shouted through the door, “Why are you skipping class? What happened to the A+ student?”
Although he said it jokingly, that hurt you deeply. He’s right, what did happen to the straight A+ student you were? Before you could think deeper, Matt slams the door open to see you crying in your bed. He sees you try to hide under your blankets but he could hear the sobs you were trying to muffle.
“Oh shit, my bad” Matt mumbles as he gets closer to you. He plops himself onto your bed. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
You shake your head and avoid eye contact. If you told him you were crying over a C, he would definitely call you a nerd. But, he could already tell due to the open texts books that scattered your floors and hidden but bright red mark.
He held up the test that you despised and gave a puzzled look at the test. "God, I don't know how you do it. This is amazing!" He says with a small smile.
"You took all advance classes this year and passed every single one! That's fucking awesome!" He says as you frown, "Well, I know YOU don't think it's awesome, but I do."
He could tell his words weren't getting to you, "Listen," he says as he grabs your face to look at him in the eyes.
"These stupid test grades?" He says holding up some papers, "They won't matter in 5 years, fuck it even 3 years! This tiny stupid letter that Snape wrote with a shit pen won't matter. You're SO smart! Think about it! There's like 1,000 kids here and I bet 50%, no 75%, wouldn't know anything on this paper!"
You turned your head smiled weakly at his comforting words, but you still felt guilty for working so hard and getting such a low score. But from the two seconds you looked away, Matt was already burning the papers with his wand, filling the room with a scent of smoke.
He smiled at you while you were in shock. "It's just a letter! Don't let the lamest letter in the alphabet ruin your weak." He says as he set the rest of your tests aflame.
Theodore (acts of services omg)
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You were having a really rough few weeks, almost a month
Although Hogwarts was amazing and you made friends that are 10 times better than your family, you couldn’t help but reflect on your past
Everything you’ve regretted, every single mean comment you’ve been told, every mistake you’ve made, all of it was rushing back in your head for an unknown reason
Normally, when this happens you journal, go on a walk, or vent to someone but for some reason your brain just didn’t want to do any of those beside mellow in your awful thoughts
You skipped 80% of your classes for this week, so far no one has noticed or checked up on you which made you feel worse. Everyone except Theo
There was a light knock at your door while you stare at your ceiling. You knew that you should probably get the door, but you felt so numb throughout your whole body that you couldn’t get up, as if you were paralyzed.
“(Y/N)? I’m coming in okay?” You hear Theo’s voice and instantly recognize it. He waits about 5 seconds, to make sure you approve of this and give you time to fix anything you need. But your body was limp, as if it wasn’t in your control.
Your vision was so messed up that when Theo hovered above you, you didn’t notice him at first. Without looking at yourself, you could tell you popped a vein in your eye.
Theo was a quiet guy, he liked his actions to speak louder than his words. You heard the ruffle of a chip bag, a glass of liquid, and a bowl be set down on your bedside table. You wish you could look at the flavors of the chips, what drink he got you, and what’s in the bowl, but even moving your head felt tiring.
From your dissociated stare and limp body, he knew he needed to help you in some way. He gently slid his hands under your back and propped you up on the bed to be sitting. He opened the chip bag and scooped up some soup from the bowl.
“Ahh,” he said while opening his mouth. Automatically, you copied him and he fed you slowly, scoop by scoop.
The rest of the day was spent with Theo caring for you in some way possible to help make your situation better. He fed you dinner and medicine, picked out shows to watch, and even used magic to help you change out of your old clothes.
Although he didn’t speak much to you beside small actions and quiet reassurances, such as “it’s okay” or “take your time”, you still so comforted and loved. He knew what you needed exactly, which was slightly scary but it worked for your benefit.
He didn’t expect you to feel better instantly, and if he had to do this for multiple days or weeks, he wouldn’t mind at all. He was patient and gentle, despite his scary demeanor. But of course, he doesn’t want people to know this in order to keep up the stoic bad-boy look he had. Only you get to know.
Lorenzo (im delusional so i he gets all of them)
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You always felt anxious when it came to school due to your past history of getting bullied. But you overcame it slowly, until you saw your old bully being introduced to the whole class.
Instantly, you could feel the blood leave your brain as your legs began to shake on their own. Your bully was just here for a day in order to advertise something that their school was doing, but you didn't listen.
Luckily, you got the teacher's attention and they saw the tears in your eyes, instantly dismissing you to the bathroom.
While in the bathroom, you broke down and could feel every negative memory you've had rush back to your head. Your vision blurred and you could feel your lungs breathe at a rapid rate.
You were glad to be alone during this, so that no one would question you about it. But Lorenzo saw and instantly asked the teacher to go check up on you.
You left the bathroom after the bell rung, meaning you wouldn't have to see your bully once again. You finally felt ready to face the world once again after a pretty heavy breakdown. But, you instantly felt tears rise up once you made eye contact with Lorenzo. He was waiting patiently outside of the bathroom for however long he’s been there.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, causing the tears to instantly come back.
Although you always did your best to act tough, Lorenzo was the one thing that made you break. Everything about him was so comforting; his scent, voice, touch, all of it.
Once he sees your eyes water and the tears roll down your cheek, he instantly hugs you, gently rubbing his hand on your back to comfort. You could feel your tears get sucked into his robe, but he didn’t care at all. He didn’t move until you were ready to, he’s always been your number one comfort.
The second you move and feel your tears stop, he pats your back and stays silent for a moment to think of what to say. Despite being sarcastic and witty, he knew exactly what to say during hard times which was surprising to you.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I don't know what happened but I'm going to assume you don't like that person, and if you don't like them then I don't like them either! Fuck them!" He said, instantly showing how much support you had.
"But, if you ever want to rant or vent, I’m always here.” He says with a soft smile, “I'll do whatever you need to feel comfortable. Walk you to class, cuss them out, fuck it I'll even hide in the girls bathroom with you!”
You smile lightly at his offers but shake your head. Seeing your smile makes him happy instantly as well. He stays with you in the halls to skip class, you’re 100 times more important than any class he’s ever been in.
The next day, your bully was gone and was back in their school. Even though you were completely over the situation , he still wanted to make you happy in some way. He believes that for every sad moment you've had, you just need at least two happy moments to overtake that sad moment. So, the next day he brought you some cookies along with a small deer keychain that he got at the store.
This man will do everything in his power to make you twice as happy, no matter what it takes.
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lokis-army-77 · 7 months
Text
Live from Hawkins
Older!Eddie Munson x female reader
Word Count: 4.1k
Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.
Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.
A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.
Masterlist  Part 2
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The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 
Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 
Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 
Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.
When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.
“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 
You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 
“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”
You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 
“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.
The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?
“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 
You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”
He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 
Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 
“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”
“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 
“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 
You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 
He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 
“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 
“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 
“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 
When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 
Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 
The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 
Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 
“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 
“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”
You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 
“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 
“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 
You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 
He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 
Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 
You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 
Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 
Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 
“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 
You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 
“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 
“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 
“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 
He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.
The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.
A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 
“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 
You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 
“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 
“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 
His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 
He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 
“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 
“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 
“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 
“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 
You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 
He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”
The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 
“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 
Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 
He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 
It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 
In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.
With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 
“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 
“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 
His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 
He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 
Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 
Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 
His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 
Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 
“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 
You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 
Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 
The fire burns brighter with this fuel.
“I’m sorry, Eddie.”
He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”
Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”
He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 
Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 
“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”
“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 
He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 
"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 
You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 
The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 
"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 
“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 
“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 
He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 
Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.
You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 
Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 
“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 
He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 
When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 
“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 
It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 
Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 
Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 
“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 
You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 
You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.
“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 
You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”
He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 
“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 
“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 
“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 
You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 
You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 
‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 
“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 
Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 
“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 
“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”
“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 
“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 
“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”
2K notes · View notes
btsgotjams27 · 12 days
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things you didn't say | jjk
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summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.
✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.
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✨ read part one | read part two ✨
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The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.
All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.
And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.
You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.
Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.
He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.
Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.
Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”
You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”
“The planters or the plants?”
He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”
“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them. 
“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.
“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”
“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”
You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.
“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”
“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”
You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”
He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”
“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”
“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.
The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.
You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.” 
Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”
He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.
You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”
“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”
A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.
“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.
“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.
Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”
Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”
You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.
“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.
Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.
“Let me take you home, at least.”
You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.
“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”
Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”
“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”
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The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.
As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”
“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”
Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.
You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.
Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”
You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”
“Can I call or text you sometime?”
“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.
He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.
A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”
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Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.
But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?
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If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.
Cucumbers.
Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.
As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.
With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.
“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”
Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”
“Deserve what?”
You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.
“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.
As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.
“Well, don’t.”
Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”
Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.
Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.
He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”
“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.
A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.
Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.
You 1:35 PM Define small.
Incoming Call Jungkook
“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”
“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”
It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.
“No, yeah, that’s fine.”
“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”
The big question is: will Josie be there?
A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.
Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”
You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”
“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.
You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”
“Cool! See you on Friday.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”
“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.
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As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.
You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.
Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”
Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”
“Clearly.”
As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.
“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”
“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”
Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”
“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”
She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”
“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.
“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”
You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”
“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.
“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”
Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”
“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”
The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.
You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?
And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.
“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?
You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.
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Things happen in life that don’t make sense.
Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.
“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.
“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”
The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.
You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.
Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.
The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.
Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.
You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.
“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.
“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?
“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”
You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!
You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”
Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.
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Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.
The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.
Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.
You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.
Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.
“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.
“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.
“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”
The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.
“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”
Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”
You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”
“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.
“You should become a private chef or something.”
He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”
“I hate you.”
His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”
“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”
Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.
Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.
“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.
He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”
“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.
“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.
With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.
Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.
Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”
Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”
“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.
“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.
Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.
You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”
He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”
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You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.
“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.
“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”
Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.
Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”
There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.
Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.
“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”
“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”
Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.
Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”
Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.
“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.
You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.
Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”
“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.
“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”
“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.
You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.
“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.
Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”
Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.
“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”
He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.
Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”
Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”
“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.
“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.
Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.
Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.
“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.
Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”
Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.
“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.
He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.
The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”
“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”
“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”
You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.
“Got a whole box ready for you.”
Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”
Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.
“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”
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The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.
“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”
He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.
“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”
The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”
Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”
Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.
You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?
“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.
Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.
“I meant what I said earlier.”
You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.
“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.
Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”
Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?
He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”
There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”
“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
If it was only that easy.
You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”
“I hate what I did to you—”
“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can. 
“Then explain.”
Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”
Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.
“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”
The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.
Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”
Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”
“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”
A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.
Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.
“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.
“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.
He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”
You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”
“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.
“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”
He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”
“Until…?”
“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”
You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?
“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”
There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.
“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”
Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.
“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”
Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”
Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.
As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe.
Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”
His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”
Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”
Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”
“What’s that?”
His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.
A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.
“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.
“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”
You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”
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While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.
And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.
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privitivium · 7 days
Note
holy shit what about a yandere sub gojo who’s popular and a playboy. like everyone wants him and he’s just being worshipped by them. But, he’s such a creepy fuck to reader, always looking and stalking them. just make him creepy asf
real tho. not even into jjk like that but... gotta share this with your fellow jjk fans. please heed my pinned post, this might be a one time thing, i am already as slow getting these out as it is lolz.,,,
ㅡyan creep "playboy" gojo satoru........
both amab,, cw;; manipulation, nc touching, stalkin, jerkin it, overall a fucking creep
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ㅡi feel so embarrassed writing for this guy,,, his blue eyes startle me immensely. intimidating !!
sub creep gojo, a playboy... observing, rather than making the moves like one would think. watching, studying you... stealing all your fucking miscellaneous shit... every so often stealing something of value - mere clothes is all. just to hold n cuddle into ... nothing too perverted. friends, obviously noticing where his stare would flit to, giving him the confidence he needed ! ooc, a little... but imagining this guy as shy to befriend you but still perving on you is a lovely thought imo
sub creep gojo who,,, touches on you once he gets the confidence. accidentally, of course. hes so clumsy, right??? hey, dont glare at him... really, it was an accident. you just got too close to him-!! "ouh, whoops." snickering, playing it cool as he holds his hands up in defense as he brushed his groin against your ass - merely walking too close n getting a whiff of your natural aroma...,,, totally not weird. you dont hold it against him as he wanted - wanting you to make a fucking mess of him and humilate him,,, but it seems ur just a little too... stoic about it. hmph. popping up literally everywhere you are out in publicㅡhey, hes not following you, just happen to be in the same area, silly.. dont get so big headed that the playboy is getting so close to you !
sub creep gojo... in his own time, all alone in his room. pervs on you to the max. simply. riding a fat fucking dildo that he knows cant compare to the real thing, having to jerk off while huffing one of ur shirts held to his nose - reminiscing about catching a glimpse of ur soft cock through of course, grey sweatpants... hes embarrassed how fast he cums - of course, no one to witness... but imagining himself in a daydream accidentally cumming too quickly,,, how embarrassing would that be ! the renowned playboy ! gojo satoru ! cumming so fast !! he has to embrace this...
gojo, again, would still gather all your unused things - taking it upon himself to get close to you, as friends !! who wouldnt wanna be friends with him?!?!!! he's the coolest, kindest guy around - sure, a reputation, but... you just have to be charmed !!! but... he sees that you find him kinda weird n creepy, all standoffish when he tries to talk to you... all sad as he whines n nearly cries as he jerks off into a pair of stolen boxers from ur gym locker - its ur own fault, who leaves their underwear in their gym locker... hey, you mustve wanted him to find them right? ur just as a pervert as he is - ! probably even more, huh?!?!! delusional, as you don't quite pay attention to him - yet still seeing his white hair literally everywhere in the corner of your eye, you start to associate the color white with him, obviously. thinking of him rather oddly... mhm mhm mhmm!!!
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ode2rin · 9 months
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MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ
pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader
genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff
content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread
in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.
💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!
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best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 
fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.
“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 
that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.
you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.
if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.
but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.
in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.
right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.
“you’re being mean, rin.”
“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”
“you won’t get it.”
“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”
that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 
“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”
rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 
but now, he realized he wasn't.
realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.
“rin, i... i didn't mean—”
“save it.”
you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.
because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.
how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.
rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.
“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.
“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”
of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?
yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.
“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.
“he's just a little late —”
“or ditching you again?” 
“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.
“fine.”
every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 
he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.
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it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.
you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.
rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?
still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?
but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.
every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.
and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.
today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.
grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.
“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”
rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.
that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.
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rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.
as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.
i’m such a fucking idiot.
you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.
it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.
it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?
great. just great.
the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 
even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.
if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 
maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.
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exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.
something was wrong.
without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.
“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.
but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.
“where are you?” 
“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”
“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.
“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”
"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 
it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.
he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.
the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.
as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.
he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.
ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 
but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 
and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.
this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.
maybe you were right all along.
“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.
rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.
how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.
“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.
locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.
“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.
it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 
it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.
there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 
so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.
“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”
if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 
rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.
it’s happening.
rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.
you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.
“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.
you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 
and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 
“i don’t want to.”
undeterred, you persisted, “why?”
because i’m about to lose you.
“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”
“say it again.”
your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.
“no.”
“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”
“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”
silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.
this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.
the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.
rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.
but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.
and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.
“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”
rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.
but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.
“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”
the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.
it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 
but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 
“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 
but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?
“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.
if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.
rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”
the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.
as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.
“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”
sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.
if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.
for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.
“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
“only if you’ll walk with me.”
rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”
and he’ll continue to do it. 
few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.
because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.
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note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!
💭 back to: milestone event
1K notes · View notes
kelstey · 2 months
Text
get him back!
mattheo riddle x reader
warnings : none
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❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
i met a guy last summer and i left him in the spring
"hey," you shielded your eyes with your hand from the sun, squinting at the figure in front of you.
"hey," you replied. you allowed your eyes to adjust, realising that a literal god of a man was standing in front of you.
"i'm mattheo," he brung his hand out in front of him for a hand shake.
"i'm y/n."
he argued with me about everything he had an ego and a tempter and a wandering eye
"you're such a dick! you were fully undressing her with your eyes!" you shouted at him, heated, absolutely enraged he was gaslighting you.
"staring at who?! you're making things up," mattheo ran his hand through his stupidly soft, brown hair.
"oh making things up?" you laughed at the stupidity that was coming out of his mouth, "i have eyes! i could see you checking her out as if i weren't right next to you!"
"yeah, whatever," he scoffed and walked away
he said he's six foot two
"and i'm like dude nice try," you giggled to pansy, gossiping about all the juicy drama to her.
"you love tall guys, he seems perfect," you blushed at her words, knowing she was right.
but he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends
"why do you have a ferret?" you questioned mattheo.
"it's just draco, i'm taking him back to snape to see if he can fix him," he chuckled and handed the white animal over to you.
"and how exactly did he get in this predicament?" you giggled as the little thing tried to bite
and he would take us out to parties and the night would ever end
another song, another club, another bar, another dance
you were pressed up against mattheo, grinding on him as the music deafened you. his hands were glued to your hips, gluing you to him.
"another drink?" he shouted in your ear.
"fuck yeah!" you shouted back, heading over to the bar to order another 10 shots.
and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france
"c'mon darlin, drivers here and he's taking us to my family's villa," you stepped off of the plane in paris, feeling like some sort of royalty.
"i can hardly speak french," you giggled, heading over to the personal driver who was parked, awaiting your arrival.
"i'll speak it for you, sweetheart," he winked, opening the car door for you.
so i miss him some nights when i'm feeling depressed
you laid on your side, mascara smudged all under your eyes as you continued to stare off into space; your mind on one person, and one person only.
you rolled onto your back, staring at the still ceiling as you reminisced the times he held you in his arms, the way his soft lips felt against your lips - and everywhere else on your body.
til i remember every time he made a pass on my friend
your eyebrows furrowed, frustrating growing through your body when you remember the one time mattheo hit on astoria right in front of you.
"hey," you watched as his hand was placed on the arch of her back.
"hey mattheo," she smiled and you frowned.
"you look gorgeous tonight, mind if i get you a drink?" be was now dangerously close to her and you felt as if steam was coming out of your ears.
do i love him? do i hate him? i guess it's up and down
if i had to choose, i would say it right now i wanna get him back i wanna make him really jealous wanna make him feel bad oh, i wanna get him back
cause then again i really miss him and it makes me real sad
oh, i want sweet revenge and i want him again i want to get him back, back, back
so irerite bim all these letters and i throw
them in the trash
"dear mattheo,
i hate you, but i love you. and i hate you again. you're a piece of shit. i never want you to speak to me again but i don't want you to ever stop trying to reach out. you confuse me so much. i know we're bad for each other but you're the only one i want. cause i miss the the way you kiss, and the way you make me laugh."
yeah, i pour my little heart out but as i'm hittin' send
i picture all the faces on my disappointed friends
"you did what?!" pansy screeched in the middle of the hall.
"girl shut up! pineapple might hear! plus, i only wrote it in my notes. merlin, do you really think i'm stupid enough to hit send?" you scolded her.
"i wouldn't put it past you," she began walking again and you rolled your eyes, knowing she was right.
because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do
"he's not the type of guy you should be with, y/n,"
theo spoke to you, his thumb rubbing circles over your hands as you told him the things he did.
"he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," you felt your eyes water, theo giving you a pitiful look.
and when i told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me i was trippin'
"you keep giving me mixed signals, mattheo," you were now beyond exhausted of the arguing.
"you're trippin'," he couldn't even look you in the eyes as he knew what you were saying was factual.
you titled your head, "you're a fucking cunt." you poked your index finger into his chest, pushing past him as you headed to class.
but i am my fathers daughter, so maybe i could fix him?
your fingers were tangled in his hair, calming him down as he had yet another argument with his father.
mattheo was laid on your stomach, his body between your legs, hands wrapped around your back.
"i just hate him so much," warm, salty tears fell from his face to your stomach.
"i know baby, i know. i'll do my best to help you."
i wanna get him back
i wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad
oh, i wanna get him back
'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad
oh, i want sweet revenge, and i want him again
i want to get him back
i want to get him back, back, back
i wanna key his car
"c'mon, hurry," you waved pansy over, the two of you disguised with all black, baggy outfits, and balaclavas as you hopped over the riddle's manor.
"which one is it?" pansy pulled out her endless assortment of keys.
"that one," you pointed over at the black mercedes.
"posh twat," pansy muttered and tossed you some keys.
"i wanna get him back," you smirked. you carefully went over to the parked car, trying to make as little noise as possible.
quickly you began to run the keys across any surface area of the sleek black car, ruining it as much as possible.
"this is for making me listen to y/n rant about you 24 fucking 7," pansy mumbled to herself.
i wanna make him lunch
"hey love," you gave mattheo a sweet kiss on the cheek as you handed over the bowl of pasta, his absolute favourite of yours.
"you truly have my heart," you fake smiled at his
comment.
i wanna break his beart
you straddled theo's lap, his large hands going under your skirt as he massaged away at your ass. his lips were hungry for yours, the kiss was rough but it was everything you wanted and needed.
you had thought because of the dark lighting, and crowds of people, that mattheo wouldn't see. but oh he did.
his heart shattered, dropping at the sight of you with his best friend. he downed the rest of his drink (aka straight whiskey) before heading over to the two of you, ready to fuck some shit up.
you moved your hips against theo's, grinding on his boner, his lips still eager for more of you. he knew it was bad - betraying his friend. but you wanted to get mattheo back, and theo was only there for some very 'moral', moral support.
you were ripped away from theo, landing on the foor with a thud, you looked up to see mattheo going ham at theo, punching him over and over as the fight broke out.
you stared in horror - enzo pulling you away from the horrific sight.
then be the one to stitch it up
"hey matty," you walked into mattheo's room. he was sat at his window ledge, head in his book which he was reading intently.
"what do you want?" he didn't even glance up at you.
"i'm sorry about last night," you made your way to him.
finally, mattheo looked up at you. his heart nearly bursted out of his chest seeing you in his hoodie - the one you always wore when you stayed over.
"baby," his voice was now softer, his eyes staring at you in adoration as the memories of the nights you spent together came back to him.
"i'm really sorry," you pouted your lips, knowing it was all so fake.
wanna kiss his face
you held mattheo close, his face rested on your chest. you leaned down, peppering kisses onto his face 'lovingly'.
you smiled down at him, "i love you."
"i love you too," you said, he put his face back in your chest. you looked up, the smile wiped immediately off of your face.
with an uppercut
wanna meet his mum
just to tell her her son sucks
"hi mrs riddle," you smiled at the older lady as she opened the door.
"hi, and who might you be?" you tried your hardest not to let the disappointment take over as you realised mattheo clearly had never talked about you at home.
"i'm y/n, and i'd love to tell you all about mattheo. i suppose he's clearly not mentioned me then?"
oh i wanna key his car
"what the fuck?!" mattheo yelled, his arms flailed up as he stared at his car, freshly bought and freshly keyed.
"what are you - oh," his father stepped out of the house, face dropping at the scene in front of them.
wanna make him lunch
mattheo was crouched over the toilet seat, uncontrollably puking over and over as draco rubbed his back.
"mate what the fuck is wrong with you?" draco was both disgusted yet trying not to laugh.
"y/n made me lunch. think she's poison-" he threw up, yet again into the toilet.
"suppose she's got to get you back somehow." mattheo shot draco a glare. "apologies," draco held up his hands in defence.
i wanna break his heart
"hey tom," you wandered into mattheo's older brothers room.
"what?" he turned around from his desk.
"oh nothing," you held your hands behind your back, innocently walking over to tom. "just wanted to see you, is all."
you sat on his lap, fixing his loose tie. tom's hand supported you on his lap, a slight firm grasp on your thigh too. you finished sorting his tie, your eyes flickering up to his eyes.
"have i ever told you how much hotter than mattheo you are?" tom smirked at your comment.
"my very own brother, hm?" his face was close to yours, millimetres away from each other.
you nodded, looking from his eyes down to his lips. "i do prefer older guys," you closed the space between you and tom.
as if on cue, mattheo walked in.
stitch it right back up
"mattheo, i don't know what got into him! he just pulled me onto his lap and you just walked in," you explained to mattheo.
"do you promise me?" he looked up at you, sadness in his eyes. you felt bad, but he felt nothing when you were depressed over him for months.
"promise, sweetie, you know i'd never," oh yes you absolutely would.
wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut
"oops!" you covered your mouth with your hand as you accidentally 'nudged' mattheo's arm as he was mid falling asleep in class, his face hitting off of the table.
"want me to kiss it better?" you asked him.
"please."
i wanna meet his mum, and tell her her son sucks
"oh he did not," his mum was appalled, hand covering her mouth as you told her about the year long situationship with her son.
"oh he did, and then, he had the audacity to be like "you're trippin',", ugh the cheek!" you took another sip of your tea.
"oh and don't get me started on the time he was flirting with my friend in front of me! but then he got upset cause i kissed one of his friends as payback."
i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him back
get him back
i'm gonna get him so good, he's not even gonna know what hit him
he's gonna love me and hate me at the same time
he didn't know wether to hate you or love you. but what he did know, was that he was undoubtedly obsessed with you.
"please, y/n, i'll do anything," he was on his knees in front of you, begging for your forgiveness.
you really wondered how he even had feelings towards you - you keyed his car, made him lunch that was poisoned, broke his heart by kissing his best friend and brother, told his mum all the shit he did and how he sucked.
but here he was, willing to give up anything and everything for you.
you had finally got him back.
❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃
511 notes · View notes
pixiemunsons · 2 years
Text
for your viewing pleasure (em)
the girl in eddie's favourite porno mag looks real familiar...
over 4k words (i couldn't help it i'm sorry), best friends to lovers, dirty talk, joking about non consensual touching (it's a single line and absolutely a joke), lots of pet names, weed use obvi, eddie's been jerking it to a pic of someone who looks like reader so if that's an issue don't read, no use of y/n. reader’s hair reaches her shoulders. also unprotected sex (even these two idiots know that’s a bad idea)
no vol two spoilers here!
a/n: i'm so horny for eddie munson i just needed to write this. i'm still working on multiple bridgerton one shots so don't worry, i've not neglected them, eddie is just my fave rn
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you quite literally could not believe your eyes.
you had really seen some shit these last few years. visiting your friend robin at work one afternoon had pulled you into an absolute mess of russians and alternate dimensions and kids with psychic powers and numbers for names. if anyone had told you two years ago that steve ‘the hair’ harrington would be dropping you at school most mornings, that your closest friends would be a group of fifteen year olds, that you would be best pals with eddie fucking munson? you’d never believe them. but this was truly the most unbelievable thing you’d ever seen.
you don’t know why. it was unmistakable. uncanny, really. laid out, literally bare in front of you.
the girl in the centrefold of eddie munson’s most dog-eared, crinkle-paged, unnervingly sticky porno mag looked just like you.
you knew snooping in his room was wrong, but you had no idea there were still secrets between the two of you anymore. you’d been joined at the hip since steve had introduced you the year before, and you weren’t really looking through his stuff, you just wanted to find his stash so you could roll you guys something for when he got back from his shower. but then your fingers had closed around something glossy under his bed and you just had to know what was in it. you weren’t expecting anything like this, maybe just some softcore shit you could tease him about for a couple weeks, but the magazine had opened on its own to its apparently most viewed page, and your jaw had dropped with it.
you couldn’t see all of her, just from the lips down to the knees. she was led down, mouth spread in a wide grin, lacy white underwear adorning her hips. her breasts were exposed, nipples pebbled to the seemingly cold air, and she was trailing her hands up her stomach teasingly. her knees were bent to the side in a look-but-can’t-touch sort of gesture. it was almost tasteful compared to the open mouths and hairy bushes of the other photos. and she literally looked just like you. the hair falling over her shoulder was the exact shade as yours, and even her breasts seemed to be the same size. her skin could’ve been matched to yours at a make up counter, and the shape of her hips and thighs was so reminiscent you would’ve believed they were yours had you not known otherwise.
so why the fuck was eddie looking at this photo? there were a couple of possibilities to be pondered. first, it was a second hand magazine. as gross as that thought was, the person who handed it to him might not have even known you. it was also possible that eddie had never thought of what you might look like under your clothes, which whilst a little deflating (god knows you’d thought about what he looked like under his) was a definite possibility. and then there was the alternative, which was that eddie had realised she looked like you and jacked off anyway, which meant…
you didn’t have time to think about it, though, because eddie was making his way noisily back to his room. quickly, you threw the magazine under his pillow and led back on it, rearranging your skirt and pretending to pick at your nails just as he threw the door open. he was still wet and, you were glad to see, completely shirtless. he leant an arm against his doorframe, the very top of his boxers peaking out from under his tight jeans in a way that had your mouth watering just a little bit. you couldn’t deny that eddie was attractive, and more than once you’d woken up in a cold sweat after having certain dreams about him. but he’d never given any indication that your feelings were reciprocated. sure, he flirted with you, and he loved being close to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in queues and having a hand on your thigh when he drove. but that was just how he was. with everyone.
‘wanna smoke something, babe?’ he winked, and with a roll of your eyes he came and sat next to you, dragging his lunchbox out. of course. he kept it in his underwear drawer.
───
‘baby, i’m tellin’ you, the lord of the rings is a fucking epic!’ eddie cried out, joint in one hand and the other waving wildly through the air as he tried to prove his point. you plucked it from his fingers, allowing yourself to indulge in the way they brushed yours for a second.
‘dude, i don’t disagree, but i’m saying it’s not long enough for all the lore! like, come the fuck on, it’s two hours long for like, seven books! that’s at least four movies,’ you argued your own back, laughing at how eddie rolled his eyes. ‘some of us can read, munson, and those books are fuckin’ long.’ you smiled at him sarcastically, squealing as his hands reached out to tickle your waist. his body rolled halfway onto yours, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking one final hit before stubbing it out on his bedside table. long fingers clasped around yours, dragging both hands above your head to tickle your arms and you were laughing and from under your head… an unmistakable sound of paper rustling.
you froze instantly, and you knew eddie had heard it. your eyes shot open, and you could feel blood spreading up your chest and neck and across your face.
‘sweetheart…’ eddie looked into your eyes, and in that awful second, you knew exactly what was about to happen. slowly, carefully, with both of your hands still trapped in one of his above your head and his pelvis pressed into your left hip, he reached under his pillow and came out with the magazine. folded open on the centrefold. you were frozen under him, horrified and in shock and vaguely aware of the fact that your skirt had been rucked up to your mid-thigh by eddie’s leg and your underwear was dangerously close to being exposed. no time for that now, though. not when eddie had caught you going through his stuff and he was going to kick you out or call you a weirdo or, oh god-
‘i see you found my dirty little secret, babe. what’d’ya think?’
your head shot up. he asked you like he was asking about the weather, so casual and restrained. not the voice of a man who’d just caught his best friend rifling through his porn collection. your words came out trembling, made worse by the fact that he still had a hold of your wrists.
‘i didn’t mean to, i was looking for your weed.’ 
eddie scoffed, looking down into your face once again. his pupils had blown out, a mix of the high and something else, and his eyes looked black.
‘you sure baby? because you seem nervous. i think you saw something you like.’ his voice was still teasing, but there was something darker lurking there. you swallowed harshly, and he abruptly let go of your wrists, sitting up.
‘was it this one? perv.’ he joked, unfolding the picture to show her in her entirety. even from this angle, she was just like you, and you gulped again.
‘it was open on that one when i found it,’ you murmured, and for a split second eddie looked… embarrassed? the tips of his ears were flushing a bright red under his hair. you took this as an opportunity to sit up under him, and now he was half straddling your left thigh as he sat on his knees. you fiddled with the edge of your skirt, thinking about how he’d called you a perv. perv! after you’d found outthat he had been staring at a picture of you - well, not you, but, you know - naked! and before you knew it, the words were tumbling from your lips and you tried to stop them, you really did but-
‘she looks an awful lot like me, eddie.’
his face, which had been hidden behind his curtain of long hair as he played with the ragged corners of the magazine, shot up, and his eyes met yours once more. this time he seemed even more embarrassed, if possible. his cheeks were bright red, eyes open in shock, and he was gnawing painfully on his lower lip, a habit you’d noticed he kept when he was nervous. he opened his mouth to respond but you had already started now, and the words were falling from your lips like vomit.
‘i mean, you can’t see her face, but that’s what i look like when i’m- well, not exactly like that but her boobs are just like mine and… not that you think about my boobs or anything or you’ve even seen them to know what they look like but it’s actually a bit creepy how alike we look.’ your hands flew to cover your mouth, and you were wide-eyed. ‘not that you’re creepy! god no, i mean, i’m flattered, really, but…’ you shut up then, not because you had realised that you were rambling like robin but because there was a hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist and eddie’s lips were on yours.
they were chapped and slightly raw from him chewing on them, but so soft and his tongue was minty as he eased it into you. he was breathing heavily, and a subdued moan worked it’s way into your mouth when you gripped his bare shoulders and tugged him into you. you had no idea what this meant, mind reeling as he pulled you closer so you were now straddling his thigh, both of you sat up on your knees. the hand that spread over your waist splayed across the expanse of your back, travelling lower until it met the crease between your ass and thigh. his long fingers pinched at the skin there, pulling a whimper from you as you rolled your hips against his leg in response. his own bucked up against you, the denim seam of his jeans rubbing against your soft inner thigh and making you gasp. you pulled away ever so slightly to meet eddie’s eyes, and he tried to chase your lips, letting out a whine.
then he was dragging his lips down your neck to where it met your shoulder, working at the skin with his teeth and chuckling as you whimpered.
‘eds!’
‘yes, babe?’ 
his voice came from under your line of sight, muffled against your reddening neck, and you craned it to try and get a glimpse of his face. instead, you saw him pull away, smiling proudly at the mark that he had most definitely left with his mouth. cockily, he dragged his eyes up to yours.
‘the girl in the magazine-‘
‘would you believe me if i told you i bought it because she looks like you?’ he looked almost bashful asking you, a total contrast to a moment ago, and you couldn’t help the way your jaw dropped. 
‘i know i’ve never seen you naked, but some of these skirts you wear leave very little to the imagination, and you were wearing a white shirt when we jumped into lover’s lake that time. worst place to pop a boner.’ he chuckled as you hit his arm lightly. he was right though; you’d dived in after steve without hesitation, and eddie had had to lend you his jean jacket for your ‘modesty’.
‘i’m sorry, baby, i thought i’d been makin’ it clear how i felt about you.’ his voice had dropped to a murmur as his eyes explored your face, lingering on the way your lips had swollen with his kiss. without thinking, he reached up to cup your cheek, and he wanted the way your eyelashes fluttered closed imprinted on the inside of his brain forever.
‘thought you were just playin’ with me, eds.’ you gulped as he ran his thumb over your lower lip, tugging on it gently. his forehead creased, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.
‘never playing with you, baby. i wouldn’t fuck with your feelings like that,’ his nose nudged against yours as he pulled you into another searing but short kiss, ringed fingers clutching your chin so that he could commandeer the exchange. he angled your face delightfully, leaning you back so you had to arch your chest against his to follow him.
‘wish you’d made it clearer,’ you gasped when his left hand clutched your ass, pulling your crotch towards his own, ‘could’ve been doing this since that night at the lake.’
a laugh rumbled in his chest, fingers stretching back to grasp the back of your head.
‘wanted you a lot longer than that night, babe. i’ve had that mag since i was sixteen.’ you giggled at this, pulling back to stare at him in disbelief.
‘is that right, munson?’ you arched an eyebrow at him. he held a hand up as if in defense, leaving the other firmly attached to your ass.
‘you said it was flattering! would it make you feel better if i said it’s not just because i think you’re hot?’ he asked, sounding sincere. ‘i’ve wanted you a long time, gorgeous, not just to fuck you. i wanna make you mine, y’know? that’s why i’m always callin’ you baby, and touchin’ you up a little-‘
‘i fucking knew it wasn’t an accident when you grabbed my tit last week!’
‘i didn’t grab it, i brushed it. and anyway, i meant how i’m always draggin’ you closer, tryna keep you under my arm, especially when you wear sexy shit like this.’ he reached down to rub the hem of your short black skirt between a thumb and finger. you had noticed the effect that you had on him when you wore certain items of clothing; long socks, denim shorts, band shirts. you always thought it was because he was just a man - god knows you’d caught harrington staring a couple times. but with eddie, you now knew it was different for you both. if you were honest with yourself, it had been building up to this moment for months. and you knew what you had to do.
‘look, eds, i’m gonna be honest with you. i really want that shit too. i want to get milkshakes in town, i wanna drive in the van with you, i wanna go see shitty bands in shitty bars outta town. but…’ you grabbed his hand and pushed it up your thigh, revelling in the way he groaned when his fingertips made contact with the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs. ‘right now, i really need you to do somethin’ about this.’
suddenly, you were on your back again. the movement made your tummy flip, butterflies erupting when eddie kissed you again. before, he’d been gentle; probing and exploring. this time, the kiss was tongues and teeth, and his hips were rutting against your thigh, pushing your skirt up to expose your underwear.
‘you’re fuckin’ kidding,’ eddie moaned out when he saw that you were wearing white. it wasn’t on purpose, but it was almost identical to the photo, and for a moment eddie munson thought he had died and gone to heaven. you made a move to pull your panties down your legs, but you swore you heard him growl before his hand flew out to stop them.
‘baby, i’m gonna need you to keep these on. turn over for me.’
you did as he said, flipping over so you were face down in his pillow, propped up on your elbows. behind you, you could feel eddie’s eyes burning into you. you could imagine how 
you probably looked right now; skirt flipped up, legs spread for eddie to kneel between them, wet spot between your legs as ringed fingers rubbed over your cheeks. two of them plunged between your legs suddenly, rubbing quickly over where you wanted him most, and you mewled and bucked your hips back towards him. a big hand pushed against your lower back, forcing you back down.
’shh, baby, i’m gettin’ there. just busy looking, you’ll have to wait a minute.’
his voice was hard but you knew he wanted it as much as you did, and you were proven right when, not a minute later, two long fingers pushed under the fabric and straight into your heat.
you couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips, hips keening back against his hand again as he searched for the spot that would make you scream. fingers crooked, eddie started stroking up against you, wrapping the other hand around your waist. he yanked you up so your back was pressed against his chest, and the change in angle led him right to what he was looking for.
‘fuck, eddie!’ you cried out, and you could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass through his jeans.
‘is that it baby? right there?’ he asked through gritted teeth, and the hand wrapped around your waist pushed its way down your skirt and into your underwear to rub at your clit. both hands were almost too much, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he had you working for release did it not feel so good. eddie was so caught up in making you cum that he didn’t even realise you had let go of his arm until your hand was wrapped around his dick, and he choked on a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
‘sweetheart, fuck, i can’t concentrate if you do that,’ he moaned out, clutching onto you even tighter than he had been before. you laughed breathily around a moan, hips grinding down on eddie’s fingers to speed up your impending orgasm.
‘sorta the idea, babe.’ eddie was nosing at your neck, pressing kisses to the back of your ear, and your words just made him work that little bit harder to get you there.
‘god, i really wanna fuck you right now.’
‘so do it.’
he stopped still and you turned around to look at him for the first time since he’d started touching you. he looked fucked out already; his lips were spit soaked and swollen, his chest was heaving and his eyes were wide open, drinking the image of you down.
‘fuck, babe, d’you really mean it? you don’t have to, i’m probably gonna have to beat off after this anyway.’ 
instead of answering, you reached down, stripping off your shirt and shimmying your skirt down your legs, leaving you sat in just your white underwear, pulled to one side. eddie’s knees almost buckled under him, and he grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. the angle was awkward, you turning over your left shoulder, but it meant you could just about reach his bare cock and rub it through your wet folds. he jumped away like he’d been shocked, eyes pulled like a magnet down to where your bodies threatened to connect.
‘you’re not wearing a fucking bra either. you’re going to be the death of me one of these days,’ he moaned, and you had to stifle a laugh.
‘would it help if i said i never wear a bra around you?’
‘i oughtta put you over my knee and spank you, you dirty girl.’
‘promises, promises, munson. you gonna fuck me now or not?’
he chuckled darkly, swatting your ass cheek with a wink before leaning into his bedside drawer, sighing heavily when he opened it.
‘baby, i’m really sorry, but i’ve got no johnnies.’ eddie rested his chin on your shoulder, nipping at the skin there with his teeth. you leant back into his touch, swallowing heavily.
‘i never did this before,’ you said, and you could almost feel his ears perk up. ‘but i’m on the pill, so as long as you pull out…’
if he died now, he’d be dying a happy man, he was sure of it.
‘fuckin’ hell, babe, you sure?’ he grunted, teeth grazing your ear. ‘i needa hear you say it, sweetheart. tell eddie you want him to fuck you bareback.’ you supposed he was trying to be funny, but it sent a shiver down your spine that he didn’t miss.
‘does it turn you on when i talk to you like that, baby?’ he crooned, and you could just about babble out a ‘shit, yes!’ 
‘then tell me you want me to put it in,’ he teased, rubbing his cock through your folds and bumping your clit in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head.
‘eddie, i swear to fuckin’ god, put it in or i’ll just get myself off.’
‘as tempting as that is to watch, sweetheart,’ he muttered, squeezing your hip, ‘i think i’ll stick to this.’ and with that, he pushed himself in. 
he wasn’t going to put it all in at once; he was gonna spread you nice and slow, fuck it in and out slowly. he knew he was bigger than most girls were used to, and he was gonna use all his self control to make this as easy as possible for you. but as soon as he put the first inch in you were squirming, begging for more and sucking him in like a fucking vacuum and trying to sit down on it. not to mention how wet you were; he’d never known anything like it. so when you leant back and grabbed his arm and looked at him with those beautiful puppy dog eyes and pouty lips and begged ‘baby, please, just fuck me?’ 
well, he was a goner.
you were so turned on you barely even registered the pain of the stretch, but you knew from the way eddie was repeatedly bumping your g spot that he was bigger than anyone you’d ever had before. and he knew how to use it. he was holding it deep, fucking you in slow, grinding thrusts. every part of your body was touching a part of his, as if you were one person, moving together in perfect synchronicity to get you both there. eddie had never been in anyone bare before, and he was starting to feel like he’d never want to use a condom again; he could feel every part of you, and it was bringing him closer and closer to his release with every passing second.
‘eddie, i think i’m gonna cum already,’ you half slurred, half moaned, and he kissed your shoulder, increasing the tempo of his hips. suddenly, you felt the knot break and your orgasm washed over you in a crescendo, and you cried out eddie’s name as he fucked you through it. he was using his hands to guide your hips against his, all while whispering in your ear; ‘so good for me, babe, so fuckin’ good, gonna make me cum aren’t you sweetheart? such a beautiful girl, so naughty just for me, ’s that right?’ you were nodding along with his words, fingers clutching onto him tightly and so wrapped up in the moment that when he stilled his hips and gasped ‘oh fuck, babe, ‘m gonna cum, you need to get off,’ you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop rocking against him. your head was leant back against his shoulder, and you could hear him muttering frantically as he tried to hold onto his orgasm and push you off.
‘eddie, babe?’
‘sweetheart, please, i’m gonna cum, you need to-‘
‘calm down,’ you turned your head, kissing down his neck and stroking his hair gently, ‘just cum in me.’ you felt his thighs still under yours, then tremble as a rush of warmth filled you up. you wished you could bottle up the way eddie moaned into your ear, the way he pushed right up into you and filled you up to the brim, the way he sighed as you kissed his cheek when he finished.
‘babe, that was really hot, but fuck, we really shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured, pulling out and feeling terrible at the way you whined.
‘’m on the pill, we’re good,’ you whispered, eyelids drooping as you climbed into eddie’s bed, completely naked.
‘shouldn’t you go, like, pee or?’ eddie asked, combing long fingers through your knotty hair, and you noticed he had, at least, pulled his boxers back on.
‘shhh, sleep time. i’ll do that later. we can get a plan b too, if you’re worried.’ you yawned, and eddie’s heart soared when you made grabby hands up at him. ‘now come get in bed, i need a cuddle.’
‘yes, ma’am.’
‘don’t make it fuckin’ weird, munson.’
13K notes · View notes
crispy-armpit · 10 months
Text
✧ 𝖎'𝖒 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ✧
ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
☆⋆。🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩
⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: reminisce about your forgotten first meeting with Deimos 3 years ago. meanwhile, you've been invited to watch his concert after the previous events. (pt.2)
⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, reader gets called a bitch, (slight) sadism, kinda tame
⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,495
⭒ a/n: dear lord i am simping for my own art... hope u all enjoy reading this! i'll be opening asks & make a short introduction in the next post ^^ ( yan jock makes an appearance here too!)
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will you venture down this path?
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where is he?
did I walk in the wrong direction?
am I lost?
... nope, this is the right place.
you are standing alone in a dark alleyway, looking around the location you agreed to meet your friend in. checking the virtual clock on your phone, you count the time you have left before you go on stage. 32 minutes.
time was ticking and he was still nowhere in sight. there's no way you could perform the duet alone. anxiously, you try texting your friend again.
You 》 17:28
bro where are u
i'm alr here
are u lost again
LIAM
liam
liam
liam
liam
liaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam
fuck it, i'm leaving him. alleys are never good news. ever since you entered the place, your stomach has been in knots and the back of your head was tingling. it's almost as if... someone's been watching you.
typing on the small screen, you tell him you're going to meet him behind the stage instead. you speed walk towards the end of the tunnel, relieved you were leaving this place. you almost reach the exit until a rough hand pulls on your wrist.
a gruff voice speaks, "hey, you dropped this."
SHIT, I'M GOING TO DIE—
without thinking, you instinctively clench your fists into a ball and punch the unknown 'assailant' on the nose— effectively causing him to bleed. the stranger gasps out various curse words as you turn to scream and run away.
"I'M SORRYYyyyy—"
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knuckles still bruised from the impact, you try to hide them as best as you can from the crowd's attention. Liam had managed to arrive on time, seconds before the performance. he claimed to have come across an old friend on the way who was difficult to shake off. but that was all in the past, and he has yet to notice your injured knuckles.
currently, you are performing on the stage in front of a sea of people. with your friend on the acoustic guitar, you both sang a duet that sang of two lovers, a confession of how one felt incomplete without the other.
it was a popular song, so Liam insisted on it. you were glad he did because in the end, the happy crowd's applause rang loud across your ears. a sound you'll always love.
now off the stage, you and Liam decide to explore the festival's offerings. the spring festival at night is beautiful— lanterns clipped across the starry sky and flowers and people littering the area. you approach one of the food stalls that lined the streets, purchasing a sundae of your favourite flavour.
as you are about to pay, you rummage through your pockets and realise... your wallet is gone. did i leave it at home?! Liam seems to pick up on your situation as he pulls out his own wallet, "i'll pay for them." you thank him and promise to pay him back. "it's alright, you don't have to." he smiles.
suddenly, a loud voice approaches the both of you, "Oi, Lili! ya did great up there, man." you turn to see a group of four people heading your way who were all dressed head-to-toe in punk clothing and carrying band equipment. they must be a band. a slim man holding wooden drumsticks pats Liam on the back, and he shortly notices you.
"oh? hello there, mx. the name's Vern." he grins and offers you a handshake, to which you politely return.
"y/n. nice to meet you, Vern. I'm a friend of Liam's."
"a friend of Liam is a friend of mine, y/n!" Vern heartily laughs, "let me introduce you to the gang, y/n— of course, you've met me, the drummer. that lady with red hair is Kyra, the lead guitarist. the young-looking fellow with shit for brains is Astrid, our second guitarist. and finally, our beloved lead singer and bassist, D—"
you don't have time to react before your face is roughly grabbed by a hand larger than your head, cheeks squished. you try to pry your face away from the thick fingers of the unknown man, as you shakily look up at his furrowed eyes. he's seething, and you don't know why.
"it's you. fucking bitch."
you don't know what you've done to this man to warrant such a reaction, you've never even met him before!... right? you think back to earlier in the day when you punched the stranger from the alley. shit, it's him.
though muffled by his palms, you still manage to voice out an apology. for the first time in your life, you feel a sensation rushing through your blood. dread and terror. in the corner of your eyes, you spot Liam being held back by a concerned Vern and Astrid.
you desperately try to pull his hand off your face while repeating apologies, but it's useless. he's too strong. the tall stranger continues to stare at you and you swear he was enjoying this. if not for the sick glint in his eyes or the soft panting from his pierced lips, then maybe for the light blush dusting his cheeks.
after what felt like hours, he finally lets go. you immediately massage your aching jaw and cheeks at his release. the stranger scoffs and hands you a familiar item... it's your wallet! "...found this in the alley. you throw a good punch." you gently take the small pouch off his hands and thank him.
a ghost of a smirk morphs on his face before he grunts and walks past you. the others instantly follow behind him like baby ducks trailing their mother, but not without giving you a sympathetic look. Vern checks up on you before joining his group, "woah, he's never spared anyone before. sorry about him, but i hope you'll still come to watch us?"
Liam, who is no longer held back, runs to your side and inspects your face. "are you alright?? fuck, I should teach him not to mess with you!" he angrily shouts. you're still recovering from shock. but that doesn't stop you from thinking how nice the stranger's smile looked. "do you want to go home? i'll drive you bac—"
with newfound motivation, you're able to speak again, "no, i'm fine. let's go watch the next show!"
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you and Liam stand in front of the stage, somehow having managed to get past the current of people. there are way more people than before, and you notice some of them are holding signs. confused, you turn to the person next to you and ask her, "hey, what's with all the people? is a celebrity coming?"
she looks at you astounded, "you seriously don't know? Ares is performing next! they're like, all over social media right now." Ares? you don't think you've heard any singer with that name before. before you can ask who they are, waves of screams fill your ears as 4 pairs of feet walk on stage. you look back at Liam to see him clapping for the band, following his gaze, you accidentally lock eyes with a pair of heterochromatic eyes.
he acknowledges your presence with a lazy lift of his brow and faces the crowd again. this time, the audience shouts in union.
ARES!
ARES!!
ARES!!!
the electrifying sound of a guitar and drums booms through the speakers. the ground vibrates along with the rhythm, as your heartbeat follows along. the song begins, but it's not until you hear the deep bass of the leader's voice do you feel the aching throb of your core.
(R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys)
I'm a puppet on a string
holy shit.
She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space...
his voice is intoxicating.
In my mind, when she's not right there beside me
I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be
your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest.
And satisfaction feels like a distant memory
And I can't help myself
All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"
yes.
Well, are you mine?
Are you mine?
Are you mine? Oh, ah
i'm yours.
his deep voice that was once laced with anger and malice— now brings your own heart to tears. you could only think about what was going through his mind to sing a beautiful song in such a wrenching manner. and on that day, you swore to one day bring someone to tears with your voice, just like he had with you.
but what you did not know was that you'd already done the exact same thing to Deimos earlier that day. and for that, he'd follow you down every road until there comes a time when your paths meet again.
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back in the present, you've been forced invited to watch Deimos' latest concert. like before, you sat at the very front row, right in front of his assigned position. the only difference from then was his lovestruck eyes that would never leave your figure.
in the end, he was yours.
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jazzsonly · 4 months
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𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀
pairing(s): tara carpenter x fem!reader
warning(s): tara has a hugeeeee crush, reader is a soccer player, set in scream 5 but in college and includes anika (deal with it,) not too good of writing(lowkey still have writers block,) reminds me of an alt version of goodnight n go.
summary: ❝ Give me a call if you ever get lonely, I'll be like one of your girls or your homies ❞
inspired by.
materslists.
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it was hard to not notice you, to not know who you were on campus would be a crime considering; you were the girl’s soccer team star, always people cheering your name on game day, always interviewed for the school’s news channel. and not to mention you were really fucking smart, according to even wes himself you’d beat him on trivia night many of times.
you tutored chad for multiple of his courses, and you were also top of your english courses. to add to the fact you were stunningly gorgeous, there was just something of the glisten of your y/c/e eyes that caught so many people’s attention, not to mention your perfect shaped lips, and god, the body on you—how you managed to keep such good shape was a question that plagued many minds.
one of those minds being tara’s who had been undying, undeniably crushing you for months now. she never really payed much attention to you, nor did she pay attention to your sport until she spotted you while accompanying mindy at practice.
that’s when she really got a good look at you, immediately plaguing mindy with questions of what you liked, were you single, what other hobbies you had, and so on and so on.
though, according to mindy, even if you had the smarts to back you up and were totally kind, you were some cliché player girl who brought all you pawns to watch you practice in attempts to impress and to her dismay it actually worked. besides your looks, something about doing a few tricks with your foot and a ball claimed to be very impressive to girls.
it’s not like this fazed the younger carpenter, she merely just wanted to get to know or so she claimed.
so after countless times of begging, pleading, and telling mindy how great she was—tara finally got the girl to agree to get you over for a movie night.
you were a little taken back as mindy wasn’t one of the teammate you were super close with but nonetheless you agreed, seeing it rude to decline such invitation.
“how do i look?” tara asked for the millionth time while flattening her long sleeve blue cropped top.
“you look fine!” mindy, chad, and amber all said in unison, clearly annoyed with the girl.
“why are you so stressed out anyways? you’ve had plenty of flings over before.”
“because, amber,” tara takes a seat next to her best friend.
“this girl is hot—like, ugh, and not to mention she’s really fucking smart.”
“not THAT smart” wes grumbled in jealously, trying to downplay you.
“smarter than you.” amber uttered, the boy shooting her a glare.
“she’s also super athletic, one more thing you’re not, wes.” chad teases the boy, earning a (weak) punch in the arm.
tara clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, you were super athletic. she thought, reminiscing on your speed on the field. you could out run anyone on you team, you could do a lot of tricks—some karate shit where you jump and spin to kick the ball, such a show off…a hot show off.
“your girlfriend’s here.” tara perks up at amber’s teasing words.
she makes sure to sit up right with straight posture, wanting you to think of her as respectable. she also made sure to wear blue because she had read humans can easily trust a person in blue.
the girl watched as you flashed that bright white smile to her best friend, greeting her with a humble hug. a six pack in one of your hands, while a bottle of wine occupied the other.
god, look at you. how could someone look so good in slight baggy pants, how jeans look at good on waist. and how could a band tee fit someone so perfect, i mean just look at the way the rolled up sleeves showcased your arms—not to mention the way it came up on your belly showing just how toned you were.
as hard as tara tried to find a contrast to your perfectness, there was no use—even your fucking eyebrows looked great.
chad greeted you with an obnoxious ‘bro hug’ as he was already familiar with you, obviously from tutoring but also playing beer pong together a few times. while wes gave you a shy handshake, still bitter for his loss in trivia night. and obviously you easily greeted mindy seeing as she was your teammate and the one who invited you.
“you’re tara, right? you come to practice with mindy sometimes. i’m y/n.” finally you greeted her, holding your hand out to which she immediately took to shake.
“ye—yeah. nice to meet you.”
“nice to meet you too! i like your top.”
tara couldn’t help but smile to ear to ear, placing her hand against the blue fabric.
“i’m not sure what everyone liked so i got some buzz and wine.” you hold the items in your hand up.
“i’ll take that,” chad swipes the six pack from your hand.
“next time vodka will do.” amber took the bottle of grape wine.
“noted.” you chuckle, ironically taking the open seat next to tara.
you smelled so good. though, she could smell a light hint of weed off of you she could also smell sweetness.
“so, what are we watching tonight? i hear you’re really into horror movies, i’m a fan myself. i like the classics though, you know like uh, texas chainsaw and hellraiser.”
“i like elevated horror, like the babadook. that’s one of my favorites.”
“the babadook? never heard of it, you’ll have to show me it sometime.”
“never heard of it? we might just have to watch it tonight.”
“maybe so.” you flash your smile to the girl.
tara had no idea how she was being so calm right now, not with you so close—your arm right behind her, stretched out on the shoulder rest of the couch. or even just the simple fact you were talking horror to her, it was pillow-talk to the girl.
“hey minds, where’s anika tonight? i thought i’d finally get to meet the special lady.” you turn your attention to the girl occupied with her pouring herself a drink.
“she’s working a double tonight. next time though!”
now that you were really here, really in front of her and talking to her, she could intel that it was more than your looks that enflamed her. she noted that you were kind like mindy had ensured, by the way you made sure to include everyone let her know of this. you asked questions and found something in common with everyone to connect on a surface level.
she also grappled that you were actually smart, as you pulled random facts of knowledge out as you watched the movie. you went into detail on how the camera actually worked on the set of movies. even how the first camera was made in 1816 by some frenchmen.
and maybe you were a bit of a flirt, or player but that didn’t matter because at the end of the night when you asked tara for her number she had never done anything so fast with zero hesitation in her life.
“maybe you can show me some more horror movies…judging by your choice tonight i’d say you have good taste.”
“thank you…yeah, i’d love to show some others i enjoy.”
“mhm. when the others wake tell them i said goodnight and thank you for having me. also, please tell wes, again i’m sorry for beating him in trivia night.”
the girl snorts, nodding her head. “will do.”
“goodnight, tara.” once again you flash her a smile, a soft one.
━━━👩🏽‍💻part two seems far fetched but what do you guys think?
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blingblong55 · 3 months
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Happiness -Simon 'Ghost' Riley
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Photo Credits: @ave661
---- F!Reader, angst, divorce, ex-husband!Simon, dad!Simon ----
A/N: Blaming the talented writers on here that wrote on ex-husband!Simon a while back for this
Ten years, eight of them lived as his wife and four of them as the mother to his child. Now, you and he sit on the stools of the kitchen island, tears in both your eyes as you two come to terms that your marriage is over. No one cheated, no one was toxic but the one thing that they couldn't see coming was that sometimes, love runs out. He and you stopped doing all the cute stuff together, it became stale and dead. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, holding your hand as you look down crying. "I guess it happens," you whisper back. But it shouldn't have. Not to you and not to him. 
You were supposed to grow old together, watch your child grow old, measure his height by the door frame, and watch Simon give his advice for when your son gets his first girlfriend. It was a plan, to sit by the fireplace when you'd both enter your fifties, reminisce on the past and laugh at the cringe things you both did when young. "I'll make sure the divorce goes smooth, I'll...find a place and visit every day. I swear to be the best at...co-parenting," he says with care. "I know, Simon," you grip his hand. 
It's a bittersweet moment, nearly five years ago, you sat him down in this exact place and held his hand with teary eyes as you told him you were pregnant. "Oh...oh my love, I'm going to be a dad!" The kiss he gave you knowing romance films would never compare to that kiss. Now, as you sit in silence, you can't help but cry a different kind of tears. Ten years of your life spent with him spent loving and getting to know him. They say, that to love is to know someone and you know and love him very well so, that is how you find yourself hugging him. Simon's hold on you is so hard yet filled with sadness and care. 
"I love you!" you laugh as you run around the sofa. Simon chasing you and laughing. He had started it, the 'I love you more' competition and when you whispered, 'I love you best' he began to tickle you. "If you say I win, I'll stop tickling you," he laughs. "Never!" your laughter loud as you try and push him off. "Very well then, lovely," he chuckles. After one push, that is where you find yourself running around the home you built with him. 
As you walk past the now cold sofa, you picture that night. Picture the mornings, days, afternoons and midnights where he and you kissed, cuddled, shared secrets, tears and laughs. What a sour taste did it bring to you. "I'll always love you," you whisper to the memory. Simon is out the door and on the road, finding someplace to stay for the night. In moments like these, he would seek for you but now, he must learn to be strong without you, something rather hard. 
[6 Months later]
A knock on your door as Simon comes to pick up your son. "It's opened!" you call out from the kitchen. His little boy, running to the door and smiling. "Daddy!" the young boy smiles and reaches for him, the image in front of you, melting your heart as you watch father and son share a moment. Your heart aches. Why didn't you fight? Cry and beg for him to think it through? No, but you want him to be happy and if he was unhappy in your marriage then you can't for him to stay or love you. 
It's been nine days since the divorce was finalised, you nor he told any of your friends. Kept it all to yourselves and went through grief alone. You drink wine alone in the afternoons now, he watches shit comedy specials alone. And when either of you turns to the side he or you occupied, the feeling comes back. No more shit-talking about the comedian, no more asking for another glass of wine. What if he is someone you'll never move on from? What if you're someone he never mentions? 
What if you two were blind and it wasn't that love ran out?
Fuck...why must this hurt.
"R/N, y'alright?" his voice interrupts you. 
No, I'm not and I miss you like never before. I miss your kisses, your whispers and your dirty jokes. I miss your mornings, I miss our mornings. Love me, please...please love me. 
"Yeah, sorry, I was just trying to remember my schedule today," your voice soft. He nods, "Yeah, well, me and the lad will be out. Call you if needed and call me if you need me." He says before leaving through the door. "Mm-hmm," you play bravely and watch him leave. As you sit on the sofa, you cry. You can't let him leave, not when you have poems, love letters and sweet nothings to tell him. Not when you still want to share your life with him. You walk to the door and go for the handle but hesitate. 
What if he moved on? What if he loves another?
[Simon's POV]
I step out, buckle my kid in and as I hear him laugh, I remember his second favourite toy is still in her home. Will she let me back in? Can she?... Now I'm wondering if she ever cared. Why did I fight for her? Why must I let her leave so easily? What if my love finds some man who tries to play house with my son and my girl? No, fuck that it won't happen. As I reach for her front door, I stop. My R/N, why must you feel so far and yet feel so close to me? 
Don't be stupid, she probably moved on. It's been six months, surely she is fine. But if she isn't? Then, I can still be the shoulder she leans on, I can be the chest she cries in, "Daddy, let's go!" Fuck, that's right. 
On the drive to the park, my mind wanders to her. Her smile, the way she was insecure of the stretch marks but she would fluster when I kissed them. Ten years ago, I met her in this park, kissed her here, walked with her here when she was pregnant and watched our son take his first steps here. Now, I walk with my son but not with her by my side. A woman approaches, me, we talk and soon after I leave. R/N must be home or out. I wonder if she still sings her makeup steps when getting ready. 
Does she still remember how I kissed her? How did my body feel against hers? I wonder if she misses me like how I miss her. Does she want to kiss me? Get back together? I hope no other guy wins her heart like I did. I hope no guy knows she loves to be kissed when her favourite song comes up and how she loves it when dirty jokes are told to her in whispers. I hope no guy watches her dance in a dress and adores her, those curves she got when she became a mother, the smile and the laugh when she gets nervous. 
I wonder if she knows I know her better than anyone. That my love beats any movie on the screen. I read all her favourite books so she'd think I was cool or that I read them to do the things the characters did and watch her fall for me more. Why didn't I tell her that day that I wasn't falling out of love but rather I was scared she would leave me? Fuck..
"Simon?" her delicate voice. If the heavens could speak, she would be the voice of them. "Sorry, I..." tell her you fool! Tell her you love her, that you miss her lips, her wit, her clumsiness and how she gives you a puppy stare when she can't reach the top shelf. "Yeah...uh, I forgot his...uh...his other toy and he has been asking about it." FUCKING COWARD!
[Your POV]
It was earlier than expected but he brought your son home earlier than usual. "I'll go get it for you," you say and walk upstairs. Meanwhile, he looks at the photos at the entrance. What were once photos of you three are now you and your son. "Here it is," you say as you hand him the toy. "Thanks, love," he mumbles as he leaves once more. Before you can close the door, "Simon?" your voice with hope. "Yes?" he turns around, a faint smile on him. Oh those eyes, his beautiful eyes. "...drive safe..." you want to mentally slap yourself. "Yes, love," he nods and walks back to his car. 
To build a home, to walk away and to miss it. Simon Joseph Riley and R/N...formally R/N Riley, now miss home. A home that was found in each other's arms. 
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